Shake it

The last couple of nights Olivia has crawled up on my lap and wants to rock for the last few minutes before bedtime. The moment she gets settled her eyes start to droop.

I'm faced with the choice, keep her awake and cut snuggling short, or enjoy the moment and rock my sleepy girl until my arms fall asleep then try to hold her (still sleeping) on the toilet and get her to pee without letting her fall in.

I can't bring myself to kick her off my lap.

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I was listening to my ipod cleaning up after dinner. Olivia wanted to listen to music just like me. Turning on the radio wasn't good enough, she needed earphones too.

Of course she needed earphones... and like a good mom (sucker) I spent 20 minutes tracking down a pair that doesn't fall off her head.

I clipped my little ipod shuffle I use for running on her shirt, checked the volume and crammed most of the headset cord into her shirt so she wouldn't trip on it.

I ran through a mental list of songs I had on the ipod while she danced around the kitchen and I crossed my fingers that a couple of songs wouldn't come up in the play list.

Next thing I know she's shaking it pretty good and kind of humming.

I knew exactly what she was listening to before she sang a single word.

"Shake it like a Polaroid picture"

3.

Holy crap she's three.

Its going by way too fast.

The day she was born everyone was waiting for a tornado to drop right in the middle of Omaha.

Who would have guessed she was tornado.

thanks for translating

Olivia was totally zoned out at the table after dinner.

me: "Are you ready for a bath?"

Nothing. She didn't even blink.

me: "Olivia, are you ready for a bath?"

Still nothing.

Pull her chair out and set her down on her feet.

me: "Are you ready for a bath?"

BBBBBRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTT Huge massive fart.

Olivia: "my toot says yes"

one hell of a mess

I was having a good time poking fun at Dave for the mess he makes in the kitchen when he decides its time to have a house full of cookies and doesn't want to wait for me.

And then I pulled all of the pictures off the camera and found Dave had documented the kids after they "helped" make pasta.

I am officially shutting my pie hole.

a punching bag could come in handy

I had one of those mornings. You know the kind... if it wasn't for love your husband and kids would probably be buried in a field somewhere.

It was a normal Sunday morning getting ready for church. Dave was still sleeping and the kids and I were pretty laid back until the last 10 minutes then its balls to the wall trying to get everyone into their coats and strapped in the car and hope like hell we wont be late.

We walk in right as they start singing the entrance song and its a race for us to get into our pew and shake our coats off before the priest starts talking.

The kids pull the kneeler down and that's when the trouble started. Olivia absolutely HAD to touch Alex. It didnt matter how she touched him, she just had to keep some part of her touching anything on him.

I gave it 30 seconds before I put Olivia on the other side of me. I then spent the next hour dragging her ass back to her side of me. If I tried paying any attention to mass, she would shoot behind me to get to him. I would pull her back, she would jerk to get down and start crying.

I know they have a cry room in the back of the church for just this kind of situation but I've made it 4 years without the kids learning what that room really is for and I am sure as shit not going to teach them they get a free pass by turning into a banshee.

So there we sit, feeling like a spectacle. I can feel all of the old ladies sitting behind me trying to kill me with their eyes.

The process of getting up, gathering all of our crap and shoving the kids out the door would have outed myself as the source of the disturbances to the entire church.

When Olivia decided to scream/cry into my shoulder through the ENTIRE consecration I thought my head would pop off.

Church finally ends and I get the kids coats on as fast as I can trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone afraid I would get some sympathetic soul try to make me feel better and I would have to sit smile and nod when really I would rather just punch them in the face.

When Dave gets up 3 hours later he asks me how church went. I said it was bad. Really bad.

Dave: "Lots of wiggling?"
me: "yes"
Dave: "Lots of screwing around?"
me: "yes"
Dave: "wow, you're still pissed. What exactly did Alex do?"
me: "Alex was perfect, it was your darling daughter."

The look of disbelief I got from my husband was enough to want to punch him too.