Even Mia Ham Had to Start Somewhere

Spring soccer started up a few weeks ago (I won't get into my opinion on calling it "spring" soccer when it was, in fact, still winter and freezing cold when it started). The point is, it's Spring now and there are still a few games left to be played.

The good news: Claire loves it and has a great time playing.

The bad news (of the "What?! You mean my child isn't exceptional at everything she does?" variety): She does not appear to have a natural gift for the sport. She has, however, developed a keen sense for trash talking. I think she gets that from her dad.

Seeing Stars

You know how sometimes when your kid bumps their head on something, and after you check them for blood or really weird knots, you tell them to "shake it off" because seriously, it couldn't have hurt that bad (oh, come on, you know you've said that before).
Well, I probably won't be using that line again anytime soon, because, actually it does hurt that bad.
I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that I'm thankful for the bangs that are covering the weird knot on my forehead. I think I might be the only person alive who can actually hurt herself while loading the washing machine.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Ashley!

A birthday message from your two favorite nieces...

By the way, Claire was very concerned that she wasn't invited to your birthday party. I tried explaining to her that you weren't having a birthday party, but that seemed out of the realm of possibility to her. I guess when you're four, you can't imagine not having cake and balloons and presents from twenty-five of your closest friends. Wait. Maybe she's onto something there.

Just Remember...

You saw them here first.


My apologies for the length of the video, the poor lighting, and Jason's feet, which appear repeatedly.

The Flu, Part Deux

So, apparently Influenza didn't get the memo that flu season should be over by now.

I just got back from taking Arden to the doctor for a fever and slightly runny nose. The doctor took one look at her and said he was going to test her for flu. I thought he must be mistaken.
"Don't you mean ear infection?" I said. "Or maybe strep throat? How about hand foot and mouth? Maybe she has that again! Yes, I definitely think that's it! We played at the play area at the Mall on Wednesday and you know that place is a breeding ground for--"

The doctor came back in the room. "Positive," he said. "It turned positive almost instantly."

I almost felt proud, because, you know that's pretty impressive. But then I remembered we were talking about the flu.

How much longer until Summer?

Not Just a Social Climber

When Jason and I moved to Dallas almost seven years ago, we didn't have much in the way of furniture. In fact, everything we had fit in the back of a very small U-haul. A bed, a couch, an entertainment center and a dresser were about all we had.

Shortly after moving, we bought our first house and began the task of furnishing it. Now, some people like to shop for furniture. Me? Not so much. I would rather shop for shoes, but since footwear doesn't make for very comfortable seating, we were forced to drag ourselves to every furniture store in the metroplex looking for the perfect coffee table, bookshelf or side chair.

One of the very first purchases that we made were barstools. I know. Hardly comfortable seating. But I had a kitchen that demanded barstools and it just wouldn't look right unless there were barstools and I found the perfect ones and I neeeeeeded them. I was very proud of my barstools.

We've used them in every house we've had and I still love them (realizing as I'm typing that it's a little weird to love barstools this much). But now, look at the state my barstools are in.

Stacked in a corner. Rendered useless. Unsure of when they will return to their rightful place at the counter.

The reason for their demise?

You saw that one coming, didn't you?

It seems my youngest has an affinity for climbing. First it was the coffee table and kitchen chairs. Harmless stuff. Then she moved on to the table in Claire's room and the day bead. OK, slightly more hazardous, but certainly not dangerous. Then the other day, I came into the kitchen to find her perched on the counter, helping herself to a banana from the fruit bowl.

Not being a big fan of emergency rooms, I decided to take the barstools away and thus lessen my chances of having to take my toddler in for stitches.

Now if I could just figure out a way to remove my bathroom vanity, we'd be all set.

I Needed That

It's been one of those weeks where the girls seem a little more difficult than usual, the days feel a little longer and I find myself daydreaming about the good ol' days when I had an office and could just go inside and shut the door on the craziness outside. Not that closing the door always worked--you can't keep out all the crazy. But still. I had a door. And I could close it. And drink coffee. And call my coworker who was also sitting in her office, door firmly shut, and talk about all the crazy around us.
These days there are no doors to close when things get wild. We just ride it out and hope for a better day tomorrow.
That's kind of where we were on Tuesday, after a particularly terrible Monday, waiting for things to even out. I was irritable, short-tempered and in desparate need of a coffee break when Claire brought me a book and asked who gave it to her (this is a common question with Claire--she wants to know the origin of each toy, book, dish towel and picture frame in the house).
I glanced at the book, "Pat the Bunny," and replied, "Bob."
"Who's Bob?" she asked. "Is he your friend?"
"Well, yeah, he was our neighbor."
The first house we bought in Dallas was in an older part of town called Lake Highlands. It was the kind of neighborhood that attracted lots of young families, but still had quite a few original homeowners, too. Bob, at 83, was an original homeowner.
The day after we moved in, Bob showed up at our house with a very lopsided layer cake and an invitation to come over for dinner. We didn't know it at the time, but his wife had passed away two weeks before we moved in. He told me later, on one of my many visits to clip roses from his beloved's gorgeous rose garden, that it was important to him to make that cake, because it's what his wife would've done.
When Claire was born, Bob brought over a present for her--several books, including "Pat the Bunny." For some reason, when Claire asked me about that book this week, it conjured up vivid memories of Bob and our time in Lake Highlands. And I was surprised to realize that all those memories were good ones.
There were tough times, to be sure, when Claire was a baby. Days that were probably very much like the ones we've been having this week. But now that we're a few years removed, all I can recall are happy times.
Boy, did I need that. The next time we have a week like this, remind me to reach for "Pat the Bunny" instead of the door.