Great News!

“Great news! ” I hear the kids say and already I’m internally bracing myself to hear the rest of it- their definition of “Great news!” very, rarely aligns with mine.

Today I’m showering at a fast and frantic pace so that I can get out of the house in time to make yet another, spur of the moment, doctors appointment for my ear when Clara bursts into the bathroom and I hear it:

“Great News!” Clara says, “the door was locked but I knifed it.”

Me: “You what-ed it?”
Clara: “You know, where you can put your finger nail in the doorknob I put a knife in there and now the door is unlocked! Isn’t that great!!!”

Like I said, our versions “Great news!” rarely align!

The pants-less, princess proclaims, "Great news!"

The pants-less, princess proclaims, “Great news!”

Sabotage

My last post was about what a great dad John is and, while that is still true, the gushing over my husband is starting to make my eyes roll. So today my John story is less about greatness and more about sabotage.

Sorry Honey.

I had yet to fall asleep when Clara woke up crying and wanting someone to “nuggle” with her. I got up to find Clara trying to leave her room, scooped her up and tucked her back into her bed.

She was not satisfied.

Clara explained that she wanted to sleep in my bed. I, disliking the idea of stolen pillows and tickley hair up my nose for the rest of the night, asked why. Well…  She wanted to sleep in my bed because my blankets were better, and my pillows were nicer. Clara didn’t like her room that night and her bed was not “comfy!”  Starting to be sorry I asked, I laid down next to her to snuggle and I pointed out how nice and comfortable her bed was. I showed her how soft her blankets were, and admired her new pillow case on her pillow. Clara, completely unconvinced, just hauled herself out of bed, picked up her water bottle and waded through a sea of stuffed animals as she headed out her door. By the time I caught up to her there she was explaining to John that she was coming to sleep with him because his bed was nicer.  John responded, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it.” as he rolled over and fell back asleep.

Sabotage.

Having had all my arguments nullified by Johns one sleepy comment I looked down at Clara happily tucked under my down comforter with her head on my pillow and got a bit huffy. I decided that I would sleep in Clara’s bed, that way I wouldn’t have to fight for bed space or deal with anymore crying and I could just go to sleep.

So I did, and I discovered something.

Her blankets are not as nice as mine, her pillows are awful, and while I find her bed to be very comfy she has a ticking clock just above it that is truly terrible to sleep under.

Clara sleeping

Clara sleeping with different blankets in a rearranged room – still have to work on that pillow though!

Sorry Clara!

Being the Dad

I’ve always thought that being a dad seemed like a good gig. As in my original post on the matter (Mother’s Day) I could elaborate on that but, out of respect for those dad’s who read this, I won’t.

John has always been a great dad. And while his daughters all love him and love doing things with him, lately something very interesting has been happening between him and his youngest girl.John and Jane confused

When John leaves Jane cries or frantically waves goodbye over and over and over again.

When he returns Jane rushes to greet him as soon as she hears his voice.

If I’m carrying Jane through the house she will attempt to leap from my arms to his as we pass.

When John puts her to bed he sings her to sleep and she cuddles in and falls asleep in his arms in a way that she never does for me.

Recently Jane was having a bad night, a double ear infection kind of a bad night, and I had been up rocking her and singing to her and while she was settled down in my lap she wasn’t happy and she wasn’t sleeping. After awhile John came in the room to check on us, (added proof of great dad-idness). Jane crawled off my lap, crawled across the floor and pulled on his pants until he picked her up where she snuggled right into his shoulder.

Clearly I had been dismissed.

I crawled back into my own bed as I thought to myself “So, this is what it’s like to be the dad? Yup, I was right, it’s awesome!” and smiled as I fell back asleep.

I’ve Been Looking Like This…

For the last week I’ve mostly looked like this:DSCN0780-(2sm)

Well, less fur,shorter snout, but same general position.

Two varieties of antibiotics later and I am hoping that soon I’ll be back to my normal blogging self.

Until then I shall leave you with a bathroom conversation with Clara.

Clara:” MOOOM!!!!! MOOOMMMM!!! MOM!! MOM!! MOM!!”

Me (go into bathroom to find Clara on toilet): “Yes?”

Clara: “People don’t eat bugs – cause they yucky.”

Me: “Yes….”

Clara: “…..”

Me: “???”

Did I Just Say What I Though I Said? VIII

Once again I caught myself uttering one of those phrases that I never would have thought:

A) needed to be said in the first place,

B) that I would need to be the one to say them and

C) that I wouldn’t just be saying them, I’d be yelling them.

Last week my good friend lent me a punching bag.  We filled the base with water and then, because it was just a temporary loan and because full of water it was oh-so heavy, we left it in the kitchen.

The whole family was enjoying the novelty of it and it wasn’t very long before Ivy and Clara discovered they could climb up on top of it. girls sitting on punching bagOnce they were up there it wasn’t very long before I saw Ivy infiltrate the last kid proof place in the house and the words:

“STOP CRAWLING ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!!!”

came flying out of my mouth.

Jessie, thank you very much for the loan of the punching bag, I think we are ready to bring it back now!

Some Little Rotter

Clara tiptoed down the stairs one evening after bedtime and had this very serious conversation with John:

Clara: Dad?

John: Yes?

Clara: There’s somethin’ yellow in my bed – I think it’s pee.

John: Is it wet?

Clara: Yes.

John: Did you pee in your bed?

Clara: No. – I think some little rotter pee’d in my bed.

John sighed and herded Clara back up the stairs while I tried to stifle a serious giggling fit.

Much sooner than expected John returned with is report:

No pee.

Nothing wet.

And it was true, some of the polka-dots printed on her sheets were indeed yellow.

Three Little Rotters

Three Little Rotters

Apparently when the one more hug/glass of water/trip to the bathroom ploy failed to work Clara decided she needed to step up the creativity!