Santa vs. Shakespeare

Recently, the following conversation / fierce argument was overheard at our house:

Henry to Bronwen: Santa's not real, you know.
Bronwen: He is too!
Henry: No, he isn't. He's just Mom & Dad.
Bronwen: Well, Shakespeare's not real!
Henry, indignantly: Oh, yes, he is.
Bronwen: No, he isn't! Shakespeare isn't real!
Henry, now hot (he ramps up quickly, in case you didn't know, particularly in such dire situations when heroes are threatened.): Bronwen, Shakespeare WAS TOO REAL! He wrote hundreds of plays! You don't know what you are talking about!

This conversation continued with much of the same back and forth while I laughed in the other room until I feared they might come to blows and had to break it up. Too funny! Ever since, when Bronwen wants to get his goat, (which basically means she's bored because her brothers are doing homework and she wants their attention,) she pipes up with "Shakespeare isn't real, you know!"

It gets them every time.

Funny, she just let the accusations about Santa roll right off her back and turned the tables lickety-split. Smart cookie, that one.

Everybody's Doing It

Bronwen has a habit that makes me (and you other mothers out there) cringe. It is not completely uncommon among preschoolers, but she really seems to revel in how much it revolts me. I have attempted to convince her to stop with protestations of how dirty and yucky it is, but to no avail. Yesterday, we had another conversation about it, and I tried a different approach (which you will find, FAILED)! If you were a fly on the wall, here is what you would have heard transpire:

Bronwen: Ooooooo, yummy boogers! (Yes, I know she was baiting me.)
Me: Bronwen, that is so gross. If your friends find out that you pick your nose and eat the boogers, they won't want to play with you anymore. No one likes to be friends with someone who is disgusting!
Bronwen: Oh, Mommy, all my friends eat their boogers!

So much for that strategy. I guess I'll have to try to have the self control to shrug it off  and hope that she doesn't grow up to be a nose-picking, booger eating monster.:)

Through the Eyes of a Child

Bronwen got a hold of my camera during preschool's playtime last week. I nearly deleted these photos, then thought it might be fun to share her perspective first! Besides, I need to blog again and this is an easy post to get me started:)

S'more, Please!

Have you seen these enormous marshmallows? Until our recent trip, I had heard tell of them, but believed them to be an urban legend spread by sugar fiends.

Well, they are not fictional. And they make amazing, HUGE, and might I say, sticky, s'mores!


Just another magical moment from our trip to Utah. (The little girl getting sticky with Bronwen is her second-cousin(ish), Macy. You can read her mom's blog here.)

Hot Tub

What happens when I forget that I left the water running in the bath:

Wordless Wednesday-- Tea with the (Birthday) Queen

Time Flies On Wings of Lightening

I heard a piece today on NPR about a scientific study, which found that time does actually seem to move faster as we age-- as our brains slow down, which sadly, they do with each passing year, time seems to speed up all around us. While this wasn't a very reassuring finding to someone creeping nearer to 40 every day, I had no problem believing it to be true. My slowing brain is finding it difficult to conceive that three years have passed since we went from being an all-boy family to one that included our sweet Bronwen.

Here's a brief glance at her birthdays so far. The next one is just around the corner at the rate we're going. But it will seem like an eternity to her.

Superhuman Smeller

Recently it has come to my attention that Bronwen has the nose of a blood-hound. She complains about smells before I even notice them (like the over-scented air freshener in a public bathroom or the needs-an-air-freshener scent of her brothers' bedroom.) If I approach her while eating something or immediately after, she always notices and usually is dead-on in her assumption of what I've been eating: "I smell peanut M&Ms!" Busted.

I've been researching (again) Sensory Processing Disorder lately in regards to a couple of my kids. (I'll write a post all about it soon, as so many people have sensory issues these days and don't even recognize it. But that's for another day.)

Last weekend we took a family road trip to Southern California and while Jared was driving, I was filling out a checklist on my kids, determining which areas of sensory input are issues for them. Perhaps this made me more aware of it, but Bronwen's superhuman smeller was cracking us up the entire way to Dana Point.

We were driving along, talking to each other, while the kids were watching Pinocchio, headphones glued to their ears, not making a peep. All of a sudden, Bronwen starts screaming as if she's in agony. After about a minute, her shrieks were finally intelligible. She was saying, "somebody goed stinky in the car!" (No, her grammar isn't perfect yet:) We realized that we were passing a huge cattle farm and indeed, there was a strong smell. But she noticed it before most of us and reacted strongly.

Later, we had to rearrange bodies in the car so that I could sit by Margaret and calm her down when she was THROUGH with being in the carseat. This put one of her brothers directly next to Bronwen, and her complaint? "He's smelling me with his breath!" This wasn't just the typical case of "he's breathing my air" or "she's looking out my window," Bronwen didn't want him near her because she could smell his breath from the next seat over (no one else noticed it at all.)

As the ride wore on and on, she began exhibiting signs that she would benefit from a nap. We pulled out her blanket and encouraged her to go to sleep. Bronwen insisted (by crying and whining) that she couldn't sleep with her shoes on, so I helped her get them off. Instead of this rectifying the situation, she now had something new to cry about: her feet were stinky and how could she sleep with such smelly feet? Sigh. She finally overcame her hardship and drifted off, much to the relief of everyone else in the car.

I foresee her father using this to his advantage when Bronwen is old enough to date. His meet-the-date "interview" with her beaus will involve feeding them raw onions or better yet, he may tell them that she loves cologne! They won't last the evening!

This ultra-sensitive smelling power could be crippling in some situations (like in the fragrances section of the department store,) but I intend to find a way for it to be an advantage to her. Perhaps she has a future as a truffle-hunter. Maybe she can check airplanes for otherwise undetectable peanut fragments before those with heinous allergies board. Or check for poison by smelling all the food and drink of the president or royalty or paranoid celebrity before they eat it. I'm sure that pays well.

Do your kids have any super-human abilities?

Overheard At Our House

Ah, the 2-year-old. Is there another creature on earth more a paradox than a 2-year-old? One moment hysterically funny, the next, hysterically crying. One moment you want to give her away to a passing stranger and the next you want to hug her tight and never let go. One moment she clings to your legs or asks to be picked up, the next she is pushing you away as she decides she is "a big kid". One moment she thinks something harmless is "too carey" (scarey), the next she is cheating death.

Here are a few recent quotes from our little paradox that had us cracking up.

The scene: Bronwen is dressed like a prim little girl, wearing a pink sweater with ballet shoes on the front, a hot pink skort, tights and t-strap shoes with a big bow in her hair. She runs into the house from the backyard, where she's been playing with "her kids" (the brothers).

Me: (observing that she is determined to do SOMETHING based on her demeanor,) What are you doing, Bronwen?

Bronwen: (seriously) I NEED to find a gun, Mama!

After a few moments of tearing apart the toy closet, she emerges with a clone trooper laser gun and a big grin on her face. She runs out to join the fray in the backyard and I am left shaking my head at my little girl.

Episode II

• 1:30 pm Daddy puts Bronwen down for a nap with hugs and kisses all around.
• 2:00 pm Mama enters Bronwen's room to check out the "carey bug" that Bronwen insists is lurking in the corners, preventing her sleep.
• 2:15 pm Pathetic sobbing begins from Bronwen's room--something about how she didn't kiss and hug every single member of the family befor her nap. (You know, just in case she didn't survive the experience and it was her last earthly chance to see them.)
• 2:30 pm Pathetic sobbing ends. Bronwen begins singing all her favorite songs at the top of her lungs: "Tomorrow", "The Family is of God", the theme song from Penguins of Madagascar (there are no words to this song, but that doesn't stop her), and "I Like to Move it, Move it" (also from PoM).
• 3:15 pm Singing ends. Bronwen begins kicking her door methodically while calling for "her boys" to get her up.
• 3:30 pm Her frustrated mother decides to let her up from her nap and opens the door.

Bronwen: (brightly) Good morning, Mama!
Me: (wryly) Good morning, sweetie!
Bronwen: (sweetly and animatedly) That was a great nap, Mama. Thank you for putting me to a nap. It was a great nap!

Just whom is she trying to kid? I know perfectly well that she didn't sleep a wink, nor did she like most of it.

What paradoxes have you seen in your toddler?

Calling All Princesses! (Giveaway)

EDITED: I need to close this giveaway earlier than planned, because the sponsor who is providing the tickets needs the winner's information earlier. I'm sorry if that messes you up, dear readers!

Bronwen and I have a girls' night out planned later this month with one of her bosom buddies. We are headed to Disney on Ice Princess Classics at Arco Arena.

I've got 4 tickets to give away to one lucky reader! The winner can choose the Thursday or Friday night show (October 29th or 30th) at 7:00 pm. The timing is perfect if your little girl is going to be a princess for Halloween--she can wear her costume to the show.

If you'd like to enter the giveaway, just leave me a comment telling me why you want to go. I'll enter you again if you tweet or blog about my giveaway (with a link to this post). My twitter handle is @relishingmother. Just be sure to include it in your tweet so that I can note it and give you another entry. You can get an additional entry if you follow me on this blog or on twitter. Leave a comment mentioning that you follow me.

This giveaway ends Wednesday, October 22nd, 2009 at 5:00 pm PDT. Winner will be announced by Thursday, October 23rd.

Those of you who aren't willing to take the risk that your little princess might miss the show, I can also offer you a discount code to get a pack of 4 tickets for $44. Just log onto TicketMaster.com and enter the code MOM at checkout. Additional tickets will be $11 each. The show runs Wednesday, October 28th- Sunday, November 1st with matinees Friday-Sunday in addition to the 7:00 pm show.

Wordless Wednesday

Lessons and Gratitude

We had an experience this weekend that reminded me to really savor this time I have with my children and to show them more love and tenderness. I was also reminded how constantly vigilant I need to be about their safety. Our sweet little Bronwen came very close to drowning and I can't stop thinking about how different everything might be if Henry hadn't seen her when he did. I am so indescribably grateful to Heavenly Father for sparing her life. I know that others have had to endure different outcomes and we don't always know why some are spared and some are taken, but I cannot deny that she was spared because of His tender mercies.

We have all been squeezing her a bit tighter in the past 24 hours, shuddering when we allow ourselves to contemplate what might have been or reliving those harrowing moments when we weren't sure what the outcome would be. I have never had a more awful feeling in my life, and I have had some terribly painful moments before this.

I wasn't sure if I was going to share this or not, partly because it is so horrible that I don't really want to talk about it, but I decided to because I wanted to share what I'm taking away from it with you. Please, please, please don't take your children for granted and this time you have with them. My kids have been pretty challenging in the past two weeks since I had Margaret-- and even though I knew it was because they lacked a routine or anything like normalcy, I have had a hard time being patient with them. I know that it's natural for kids to get under your skin, but I am just so grateful to have them that I found myself today having a greater capacity to be calm and to show tenderness inspite of my fatigue.

We have also been too casual about our kids in the pool. The boys are strong swimmers and Bronwen is a pro in her waterwings, paddling all over the pool. If we are near the pool and they are in, I don't have my eyes on them all the time. But this time, Bronwen got out, took off her waterwings, and then wandered back over and went into the pool because she saw a ladybug. No one noticed her take them off. No one saw her get back in. No one saw or heard her go under. You can bet that I will be sitting at the edge of the pool (if not in it) from now on with my eyes on any non-swimmers more vigilantly than I have in the past. The risks are too great. So please be very very very careful.

My little Meg is crying now for her late-night supper and I'm off to fatten her up. Go kiss your kids and say a prayer of gratitude for them. I know I will.

Escape Artist

Do you have one of these at your house?

My two-year old daughter has radar for an open (or even unlocked) front door. The second that the opportunity presents itself, she bolts out the door and over to the neighbor's lawn. Don't ask me why she heads there first. Perhaps she's learned that it gives her a good enough head start from there to run all over the cul-de-sac before I can catch her. When her brothers are out there riding their bikes and scooters, I can at least understand the allure, but when there isn't a soul outside, I just don't understand what she's getting from it. Other than the thrill of watching her great-with-child mother, who is most often barefoot, try to gain enough speed to catch her as she runs, shrieking and laughing, in the opposite direction.

When Ian (now 4) was at this stage, he once pushed out the screen in my living room windows, which sit low, and ran out to the middle of the street. Imagine my horror when I heard honking outside and decided to go check it out, only to find my 20 month old dancing in the intersection! With all the doors locked, I thought I was safe to spend a few minutes in the kitchen without having my eyes on him. I was obviously mistaken.

When Bronwen isn't trying to risk death and kidnapping in the neighborhood, she is busy trying to drag a barstool over to gain access to the butter, the cupboard where I keep vast amounts of chewing gum (which is great occupational therapy for our ASD son), the rising bread dough, or the cashews and raisins. She also adores chewing on other people's toothbrushes, face painting with my lipstick and eyeliner, and pulling out all the clothes in her closet organizer.

In short, this little one is exhausting. And it's not hard to imagine what kind of havoc she may wreck while I'm nursing her younger sister in a few weeks. I can only hope that she'll sit next to me and let me read books to her like her brothers have done.

It's a good thing she's cute.

Testing Her Limits

We are going through that wonderful stage when a toddler learns how to climb out of her bed. All that new-found freedom can really go to your head, I've learned. Children who were excellent sleepers when they were confined to a 3' x 5' space begin waking up early, staying up late, and resisting naps. And that is best-case scenario.

Bronwen has become quite proficient in the past week at escaping her crib. At first, she would just try to get up once, just to see if we'd let her up. Since she is our fourth, I was wise to this stunt and knew better than to let her stay up for even one minute. Generally, if I immediately put her back to bed, she'd settle down and go to sleep.

Last night after being put to bed, she got up at least five times. In the pitch dark of her room she had no problem scaling that crib and prying open the door. She cheerfully ran down the hall, informing us that she'd "waked up!"

While I was at spin class this morning, prior to 6:00 am, Jared heard her struggling, half-asleep, to get her bedroom door opened. He gently put her back to bed and assured her that it wasn't time to be awake quite yet.

Today at naptime, she really, really did not want to go to sleep.

1st time she popped up:
"Mommy, I play with bloon!" (balloon)

2nd time:
"Mommy, where is my bloon?"

3rd time:
"Mommy, I hungwy!" (plaintively, as if she had not just devoured a yogurt, a corn dog, half an apple, a warm peice of bread, and half of the mango that I had peeled for myself.)

4th time:
"Hi, Mommy!" (brightly, hoping to trick me into letting her stay up because she was so pleasant to be around.)

At this point, Jared, who was home for lunch, spent 15 minutes lowering her crib to the very lowest possible rung, hoping that she'd be stuck again.

5th time:
"Mommy, where is Daddy?" (groaning from Jared about the collosal waste of time it had been to lower her crib mattress.)

6th time: (after being put to bed with a firm but not-painful tap on her diapered bum,)
"Mommy, you panked me!"

7th time:
"I hurt my chin. My chin, chinny, chin! Kiss it, Mommy! Hug me, Mommy! Tuck me, Mommy!"

I explained to her that her chin chinny chin would be just fine if she would stop climbing out of her crib like a Chinese acrobat and that no matter how many times she got up, I'd put her back in until she took a nap. Thankfully, that was the last I've heard of her for 15 minutes.

Time to turn the doorknob around so the lock is on the outside. Sigh.

(Pictures are from a tantrum that she threw at Disneyland last month. I haven't taken many pictures lately.)

To Bronwen, on her 2nd birthday (a few days late)

I had no idea that having a daughter would bring so much sunshine and joy into our family. I never anticipated how big of an impact you would have on the spirit of our home--how much you would soften your brothers, your father, and even me. I couldn't believe that having a baby girl would feel any different from having a baby boy, beyond the obvious fun of different clothes.

And yet, you ARE different from your brothers, even at your tender age. You are so clued in to everyone around you. You know what they like and what they don't. You love to be my little shadow more than anything else; a phrase you utter a thousand times a day is "I helpa, too, momma?" And I find it astonishing that when I am doing laundry, you identify each piece of clothing with the correct person, even when I have a hard time telling which clothes go to which brother without checking the tags. You have always quickly identified objects with the people who use them (remind me to tell you the story one day of Nana and the MnMs.)

One of our daily rituals is that you must sit in the sink and play in my makeup bag when I'm getting ready. It's the only way I can get you to sit still for your pig tails, but you insist on playing with brushes and rubbing chapstick on your face. You are completely wounded if I put on my makeup without your help; it is a betrayal of our bond.

You have radar that goes off as soon as I start cooking or baking. You might be busy playing with your favorite doll or watching Max and Ruby, but as soon as you realize that I'm in the kitchen you come running to "helpa too." It sometimes makes me crazy, especially because you try to taste everything, even raw meat, but I try to remember that I want you to work side by side with me later and I have to cultivate that now, while you are interested. You love cookie dough, cake batter, plain butter, and even taste the dry ingredients against my recommendations.

You, like your brothers, love books. Your favorites have always been the books that illustrate songs, including The Wheels on the Bus, I'm Trying to Be Like Jesus, Skip to My Lou, and We're Going on a Bear Hunt. You also love Max and Ruby books, books about babies, and books that involve kissing.

You love your babies, especially one that is completely ratty now, whom you call "Pink Baby." You got a new doll from Grammy and Papa that takes a bath with you. Not only did you reject all the rest of the gifts that night (except for the Annie CD you had already opened,) but now you want to bathe 3 times a day. You sit in the bath, singing to your baby and washing her and take great care to dry her with her towel when bath time is over.

You love to sing, and belt songs from Annie at the top of your lungs. I love that the new CD you have is the same recording as the record I listened to as a little girl. Whenever we sing as a family, you begin shouting out the names of the songs you want us to switch to: Jingle Bells, "Rock" (The Wise Man Built His House), "Popcorn" (Popping), Tomorrow, "Teech Ee All Dat I Dutch Do" (I am a Child of God) until we give in and sing your list. And if we sing one of your book songs, you shout, "Oh, no!" and run to find the book.

And somehow, as I noticed when you were only a few months old, having a daughter makes me feel more tied to the generations. You cause me to contemplate your future children and grandchildren and all those women who have come before us, passing on a legacy of love. As I watch you tenderly rock your babies or scold your brothers in an oh-too-familiar voice, you inspire me to be a better mother; a more gentle, soft-spoken, fun-loving mother for you to emulate. I know that you want to be just like me, and it makes me want to be a better example so that I don't pass my bad habits on to you. Thank you for inspiring me to be better for our whole family and for the generations that will come after you.

We love you more than words can express. You light up our days, fill our home with laughter and kisses, and bring peace to the storm. Your energy and determination can be exhausting, but even that we welcome.

I pray that you have a wonderful year and rejoice with the rest of us when we welcome your new little sibling in a few months (the one who wouldn't uncross its legs in the ultrasound.) We love you, little girl!

Love,

Your Momma

(And Happy 29th Birthday today to your Grammy. Here's a tribute that I wrote to her and Papa last year. We love you, Grammy!)