Children!

My husband enjoys watching Homestar Runner cartoons.  One of the various offerings is a series called 'Teen Girl Squad,' where Strongbad, another character, draws little boy-ish cartoons about, well, teenaged girls.  As a boy is drawing them, however, the girls often meet their demise in odd ways.  In one of Brandon's favorite cartoons, one character is suddenly run over by a child-filled car while Strongbad growls 'Children!!!'

This afternoon has been one of those days where the children have attempted to run me over.

This morning, Kathleen and I slogged through the snow, slush, and 12-degree weather to do some last-minute shopping.  When we got home, it was lunch time then nap time.  Then it was my lunch time.  While eating our lunch, Brandon and I were interrupted by hilarious laughter drifting from the girls' room.  He went in to investigate, and discovered Kathleen standing on the diaper pail to watch Sophia as she rolled back and forth in her crib.  Both clearly thought it absolutely hilarious.

So, back to bed for them.  15 minutes later, more of the same.  This time, the tucking-in was accompanied by dire threats of blanket confiscation.  All was quiet, until we had been asleep for 10 minutes of our naps, and then a thumping started up.  Brandon got up, briefly confiscated the blanket, and I continued with my nap.  15 minutes later the thumping continued, and this time, their little bums were mine.  

I roared into the room, smacked Kathleen on her little padded backside, swiped the blanket, and left uttering dire threats.  10 minutes later Kathleen was banging on the door sobbing for her blanket and Sophia was screaming in commiseration.  So, one last time, we went in and returned the blanket, tucked them in, and informed Kathleen that if she got out of bed one more time, she would spend the rest of the day in bed.  

So now, after 1 1/2 hours of attempted insurrection, the natives are conquered and quiet.

I still don't agree with Bing

Every year Brandon and I watch White Christmas, and every year at the end, Bing and his friends sing about having all of your Christmases white. Last year I had a white Christmas. The year before I had a white Christmas. This year I will have yet another white Christmas. And I still don't see the charm.

In the last 10 days we have had at least 7 days that have had snow, and perhaps only 2 of the last 10 days have reached above freezing. Today we received six inches and it's still snowing. If it weren't for the kindness of neighbors, I would be outside with Kathleen, shoveling our driveway so Brandon can get up it after work today.

Every day when we wake up, Kathleen asks if we can go to the park. No, I tell her, it's too snowy. Then she asks to take a walk. No, I tell hear, the roads aren't clear enough to go for a run. Then she occasionally asks if we can go to the pool. Pools are for the summer, I tell her. Then I ask her if she wants to go play in the snow. No, she replies. So instead we stay inside all day, trying to keep warm while watching the snow fall. And keep falling.

After three white Christmases, I can say that I still don't see the appeal. Hopefully I won't have to try and see it for the next few ones. Rabat, anyone?

There goes snack time

This morning while reading everyone's blog and enjoying a few minutes of alone time while eating a piece of cake (yes, I eat cake at 9:15 in the morning.  It has eggs and eggs are good for you), I heard Kathleen rattling my bedroom door.

Kathleen is shut up in my bedroom every morning while I shower, and has to wait until I come fetch her to get out.  Apparently not any more.

Before I could hide the cake, Kathleen had made her entrance with a very cheerful hello, and alone time was no longer alone.  I may go and look for some rope this afternoon.

Do you hear what I hear?

And that would be nothing.  Well, nothing other than dogs barking, a plane flying overhead, perhaps a car driving by.  But what I don't hear is the dulcet tones of Sophia's darling cry, fraying my nerves to the point where the sherry in our refrigerator begins to look tempting.

Recently, Sophia has been giving me some... trouble, so today I decided to give her some... trouble.  When she began whining about being put down for her afternoon nap, I brought out the big guns.  I shut her door, I shut my door, I put in earplugs, and turned on a fan in my room.  If she wanted to cry for half an hour before going to sleep, it wasn't going to interrupt my nap. 

And now, almost two hours later, silence.  Wonderful silence.  And what have I done with my silent peace?  Told  you about it, instead of doing something useful.  Oh well.

I didn't teach her that

Yesterday while exploring my room, Kathleen came upon two pins.  Pins are very fascinating because they can be stuck into things.  Realizing the value of such a device, Kathleen fetched her baby doll.

Then she plunged the pins into her baby's torso and then plaintively said, 'hurt.  Baby doll.  Hurt.'

We're going to start hiding Sophia's hair and fingernail clippings.

Kathleen-isms

After having taken her own sweet time to begin her verbal journeying, Kathleen is now making up for lost time.  And giving us a wonderful insight into the logic of two year-olds.  A few days ago while at dinner, the word 'trouble' came up in the conversation.  To show that she, too could participate, Kathleen pitched in her own two cents.

'Trouble!  Fifi-no!'

Because of course Sophia is the only one in the house who causes trouble.  And unwinds all of the floss.  And dumps Motrin down the heating vent.

Our First Thanksgiving

Ever since I left home for college, I have always mooched off others for Thanksgiving.  After all, who wants to cook all of that food themselves?  It's a holiday, and holidays don't involve large amounts of cooking.  Well, at least by me.  On Thanksgiving.

This year, however, our devious plans fell through when our regular Thanksgiving date fell through a few days before due to rampant bronchitis in their large household.  We did, however, receive a turkey, sweet potatoes, olives, cream, and two bottles of soda to ease the pain.

One problem with a 12-pound turkey, however, is that it has to be cooked.  You can't just decided to have pizza or go out to dinner when a 12-pound turkey is waiting in your refrigerator, reminding you that a turkey somewhere in Middle America lived and died to be sitting in your refrigerator waiting for its big day and not to be ignored and left to spoil.

So, we cooked the turkey.  And sweet potatoes, and mashed potatoes, and stuffing (from home-made bread, of course), giblet gravy, cranberry sauce, pecan pie and pumpkin pie.  Thankfully the olives simply had to be drained and eaten.

Lest I take too much credit, however, I must give thanks and much acknowledgement to my wonderful team of sous-chefs, my dear husband, kind sister-in-law Ashley, and Seth, who is amazing with a knife.  Everyone followed the recipes and schedule posted and dinner turned out fabulous.

Now we just need to find some more people to come help cook Christmas dinner.  Anyone planning on a Springville Christmas?