Bath Time

A few years back, I remember seeing crayons which were marketed specifically for the bath tub. Apparently, they would mark when wet and come right off. I thought this was a great idea, but not having kids at the time, I didn't get any. When we made the mad-dash run-through of Target when we discovered a few extra nooks and crannies in the crates, I didn't remember then either. Then, I found a website that showed you how to make your own 'bath tub paint'. Intrigued, I looked further for some ingredient that I just can't find here, but low and behold, I had ALL the ingredients! (If you want the directions, you can find them here).

Tonight was a BBQ and hanging out in the garden type of night. That translates, as most mothers know, to one disgustingly dirty child! I figured it was the perfect opportunity to try out the paints so that Em could get a good soak. It was a lot of fun, and the bonus was that since the paint was made with dish soap, my tub got squeaky clean in the process!

Emme was channeling Jackson Pollack on this one. Lots of serious concentration to work this masterpiece!
I loved how many of the gross and fine motor skills this activity worked... yeah, that's the teacher in me coming out.

We worked on our "1, 2, 3" and every time we get three, Em has to clap for some reason. Maybe she's proud that she said the number three... it is a bit tricky!

Story Time

One of the things I've missed being here instead of back in the States is Story Time at the local book stores and library. You see, I had a rough go at learning to read and am still a rather poor oral reader (my former students will all attest to the truth in that stament!). I worried that Em would only learn all the 'informal' reading skills (like voice inflection and tone) from me. However, she came up with a brilliant way of taking care of that problem: Saturday Story Time with Daddy!

Someone subscribed Em to the National Wildlife Federation Wild Animal Baby Series (whoever you are, God bless you!!!). They are Em's favorite books, and as she gets a new one each month, they don't seem to ever get boring to her like some others do.

She's now at the age where Todd can read the two sentences on the page, and then ask a dozen questions about the pictures and Em knows the answers. "Where's the red circle Emme?" These questions are eternally followed by the universal I-don't-know shoulder shrug...

and then she points, so proud of herself. "There it is!!!" It's a pleasure to watch Em and her dad enjoy such tender moments... and a pleasure to enjoy more than a sip or two of a warm cup of coffee!

Longest Month Ever

Some people consider February to be a rather short month, and if you look at it mathematically, it is the shortest month in the entire year. However, after one year in Illinois, I realized that while the actual number of days may be the fewest of the whole, entire year, it is the last month of winter... the sunshine is minimal and darkness is plenty, let alone the coldest and desolation of winter in the midwest... When we moved to South Africa, I figured that would change since our February is equal to the North American August.

That assumption was made, however, before Todd got sick... or Em got sick... or Cooper got sick... or the dog started eating my garden. That said, this has been the longest February in the history of Brittany Februarys! Em is finally just suffering from a slight cough, after a week of battling and one full day of feverish misery. Cooper's fever is almost gone, but I'm not sure if it's hanging around now due to his illness or him teething. One way or the other, he battled for a week and a half before finally spiking his own fever, never to be outdone by his sister. His new friend (which I'm sure he would kick to the curb if he could kick... or knew what a curb was) has also given my cloth-diapered little cherub a nasty diaper rash.

So, to help him out with that, he got to spend some time tonight, "nappy free" on a towel while watching some Praise Baby DVDs. Todd was a bit leery of the toosh hanging out, but I still hold that he has zero toosh, so it's fine. Therefore, if you are offended by infantil semi-nudity, don't look any further!

Why is it that little boys just love being in the buff?!

Home Sick

A few weeks ago, I was up in a mood after the kids were in bed. I was just missing Jamba Juice and In-N-Out and lamenting over not being at Grammy's house for Christmas... like I said, I was in a funk. So, I decided to do something constructive and 15 minutes later, I had a verifiable reminder of home!

It has quickly become my favorite shirt to put Cooper in, but he is, unfortunately, almost out of it. Em was down for a nap this afternoon, and true to form, my kids decided to tag-team me with Em going to sleep just as Cooper was waking up. No better time than right after a nap and snack for pictures though!

Um, Mom, don't look now, but there's a dog... a HUGE dog just outside that window. Don't make ANY sudden movements!!

Sir

There is an evolution and purpose to nicknames. When Em was born, a friend started calling her "beba" which quickly became "Beeba" and there, stayed. Cooper was our "Bubba," which Todd vehemently protested because that was also the nickname of Gandalf the Grey, our cat in the States. "Bubba," therefore changed to "Bubby" which Em started pronouncing as "Bobby," and there, stayed.

So this just became a house of crazy names (remember how I told you about our first cultural mistake when we named the dog Jabulani and shortened it to Lani, and Lani here means "rich, white guy"???) which seemed to fit the crazy people living here.

Today, however, Cooper's nickname has changed. I now affectionally refer to him as Sir Chomps-A-Lot... which is shortened to just plain "Sir." I was looking for something that worked with snapping turtles, but couldn't think of any. Besides, Sir is still fairly decent as far as nicknames go! If you watch the video, you'll fully understand. Please also bear in mind that this is only his second real meal with a spoon... I was using my finger, but it started to hurt.

Laundry, Flowers and Cereal

There are days where I am totally inspired and motivated to do and be everything. Those days, I feel like SuperMom! Then, there are days like today, where my house looks like the washing machine got sick in the middle of the night!

Due to a severe shortage of clean clothes this morning, I was forced to be a bit creative with Em. She was given this 6-12 months dress from my mother and I just adore it, but she had about 8 million other dresses at that age, and never was able to wear it enough for my satisfaction. But she still fits into it as a top, and so, hello cutie-patootie!

I couldn't let such a cute girl, on such a good hair day (she finally has enough for a clip... barely... if there's no wind and she doesn't touch it, which is really pushing it, but I still try) go to waste. So, once Coop was down for a morning nap, we explored the great outdoors... otherwise known as the carport!

Got these flowers for my birthday from Auntie Linda and they are Em's absolute favorites! Maybe I should pick up flowers instead of just growing "useful" things like veggies and herbs... hum.

Another major event happened last night. Funny to think about it because I just got it into my head to do it because, well, it just popped into my head. Cooper has been watching us all eating intently for a few weeks now. By that I mean, if I'm holding him and anything is brought to my mouth, such as coffee, he will literally turn his entire body into a squirming, squiggling worm in order to crane his neck to watch the whole process. He then gives this very pitiful look of, "do I get any?" He officially turned 5 months last week and is able to sit up, just for a few seconds, but handles it like a champ with even the slightest help. So last night when he was just throwing a fit (Todd had coffee and I was noshing on piece of chocolate) I figured I couldn't put it off any longer.

With Em, it was a BIG production: video camera, special organic food that required a special trip to the store, etc. This time, I just started hunting in the cupboards to see what I could come up with. I found some cereal (which I truly despise all by itself) and threw it in with some liquid and there you have it: Coop's first meal!

Needless to say, he LOVED the stuff, and got very angry with me when I cut him off. I think, if I'd let him, he would have eaten the whole box!

"Hi, I'm Cousin Braedo's twin... don't mind me, I'm just hangin' out, eatin' some cereal!" (Seriously Hil, I need a picture of him to put next to Coop... totally uncanny how much they look alike!)

Claimed

I love the books and movies by the author L.M. Montgomery, known for Anne of Green Gables. Somewhere in there, the main character (whom I fancy myself to be much more like than is true) says something to the affect of "there's a book of revelations in everyone's life." Today was one of those days where you're tired by 7am and the day just seems to go downhill from there. It was hectic and hurried... and then I received an email from a friend. As clear as day, I was able to open my book of revelations. Some people might say it's like looking into a mirror, but it was so much more clear than that... almost like watching a movie of things that haven't happend yet, but none-the-less, there you are, as the starring role.

Maybe we all need to be reminded of what our book says. Sometimes, between the dishes and the laundry and the dog and the kids and the... whatever, I forget. I forget that my kids are watching. I forget that they grow so fast. I forget that while they may not remember me making the cupcakes for the pre-school party, they will remember me being there. I've always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but sometimes, reality looks a bit different than the dream. Never, when I was a girl dreaming of having kids of my own, was mopping up a muddy floor from my toddler who just so happened to learn how to (with help from her trusty dog) shimmy the gate open just enough to go and play in the good ol' South African clay, a picture in my fantasy. Nor was doing an entire load of laundry because my son has a personal distain for all things clean and non sour-milk-smelling, something I thought of. I always pictured those "Hallmark" moments with the pristine children in their sparkling white clothes running off the playground into open arms as we hustle home to go share some hot chocolate and graham crackers while talking over the day. (Like I said, I was a GIRL in those dreamy days of old!) But then, when this friend emailed, I was suddenly reminded of why I wanted to do this job of "mom" in the first place. This may seem odd to some, and others may say, "but there has to be more" and perhaps, some day, there will be, but for now, my priority is to my family. My friend wrote: "being a mom is my raison d'etre." My Spanish is rusty, but my French is nearly non-existant, so I wikipedia-ed it (yes, I made up that word, but maybe it'll make it into the dictionary some day... just like "googled" and "tweet" made it in) Raison d'être is a phrase borrowed from French where it means "reason for being"; in English use, it also comes to suggest a degree of rationalization, as "The claimed reason for the existence of something or someone." "The claimed"... I love that. Yes, I'm a mom, but it's up to me to claim my kids, both for myself and for Christ. So while I'm sure this was too heavy (with not enough pictures I'm sure) for some, maybe, just maybe someone else will remember that we are here to claim as loved and for Love... our family, our friends, our loved ones, because we first, were claimed.

Footsteps

There are many things that Em does, which are (unfortunately for her) in the footsteps of her mother. I wish I could say she was her father's daughter, and in some ways, she is. But, her personality is (poor kid) more along the Kanzler/Driffill side of the family than the Leslie side. She's stubborn, fiercely independent, incredibly social and totally cute! (That's not implying that Todd isn't cute, but with all the crumby traits she got from me, I've got to throw something good in there!) Anyways, I came out of the kitchen after cleaning the breakfast dishes to find her, of her own accord, wearing my shoes. She loved the flopping sound on the tile. Most of all, though, I think she loved that she was so cute and that I didn't even get mad at her for a) taking something that didn't belong to her and b) getting onto the stairs to get said contraband objects.

Not quite the old Hallmark commercials with the girl in her mom's pearls and prom dress and heels, but it made me say, "Awwwwe!"

I Hate Flip-Flops!

No, not me. I live for flip-flops (well, not really but it would be so much easier some days if that were true! No floors to clean or laundry to fold, just flip-flops to wear around- haha). Anyways, a friend at church, who has an adorable daughter, gave Em some of her shoes that she'd outgrown. One was the most adorable little pink sparkly-with-shinny-stones pair of summer sandals. I put Em in them, and this was the face I got. (Note the drool, snot AND tears... she's talented, what can I say?)

Not to be thwarted that quickly by a toddler who LOVES peas one day and won't even touch them the next, I thought maybe if she wore them around a while. After two minutes of this....I gave up. Maybe next summer she'll be able to handle things between her toes, but for now she's annoyed with me and screaming at the world... (someday, she'll look back at those shoes and wish they still made them in her size and she knows it, but that's just my opinion!)

The Day Is Still Young

Todd, who has been hulled up in our bedroom with no human contact and very little interaction since last Thursday was finally let out for a few hours yesterday. His fever seemed to have broken and he was feeling better, weak but still better. So, after the kids were in bed, I let him sit in an actual chair for the first time in over a week. He was so excited to watch TV and pet the dog. I was still wary, so there was still a general fog of disinfecting behind him, but it was a step in the right direction.

I, who have been sole care-giver for over a week, was more than ready to have (potentially) my husband back again. So, we tentatively went to bed with the hopes of possibly having a bright and 'together' Saturday. Well, Cooper woke up with gas at 11:00. Em started cutting a tooth and was up at 12:00, so by the time Todd showed up next to my bed (I moved in with Cooper into the spare room when Todd got sick) at 1:30, I was more than annoyed. The annoyance, however, only lasted for a short while until Todd explained that he had hives.

HIVES?! The poor guy has been sick and in bed for a week and a half, and now, just as he's starting to get better, he gets hives? Well, we don't have anti-histamines in the house because we aren't an allergy-sticken family. My first thought was to get clothes on to run to the grocery store... except they are closed from 7pm until 9am. Yes, nine in the morning. So, my poor husband had to suffer until the neighbors woke up this morning and were able to provide some meds. He only had a topical cream, herbal remedies and baking soda for hours. By 7 this morning, he was ready to jump out of his skin from wanting to itch. The funny part came when, after looking up some remedies online, he came across a prescription of chlorine. That led to the kids and I packing up the stoller and walking down to the freezing pool with Todd. He jumped in without hesitation and stayed in until the shivers were too much (but at least the frigid water numbed the need to itch!). Em, after being told she was not allowed to swim in her pajamas, decided to be the first runner in the inaugural around-the-pool-in-support-of-Daddy-not-itching marathon. Cooper, who could have cared less about running, was perfectly intent to help Daddy by being of as little nuisance as possible. I, of course, couldn't help but find the humor in the whole pitiful picture of my family, ran and got the camera!
Da-dunna-dahh-dahh...Da-dunna-da-dahh...
Daddy, me AND this foot are cheering you on, you can do it!
I don't know which is worse: the freezing cold or the itching, but both are driving me nuts! When I teased Todd that I should start calling him "Job," he reminded me that the knock hasn't come yet to say all the sheep are dead and there were no boils to be found... but the day was still young!!!

Cleaning the Curtains

Cleaning the curtains is, generally, a job reserved for VERY special occasions, but I came down the stairs, with a basket full of dirty laundry to find Cooper had rolled almost completely off his play mat and was having a grand ol' time squealing and screeching away to the curtains! Of all the toys hanging from and laying around his (very expensive I might add) play mat, he chooses the posh, sofisticated (okay, I want them to be that, but they're not) curtains. Glad we spent all that money... especially since he seems to be really using it! Oh the things that make this stir-crazy-because-Todd-is-still-up-in-bed-sick-after-eight-days-straight Mommy laugh!!!What's one more load of laundry for that sweet face anyways?!

Nursing Staff

There is a long, long list of things I should be doing:
-folding laundry
-putting away clean clothes
-sweeping and mopping my floors
-gardening (I’m sure there’s a rotting tomato out there somewhere)
-cleaning the kitchen
-disinfecting any surface in my home…

The list just keeps going. But, the truth is, I need some sanity. I need some adult conversation. I need… a brownie!

The reason for all this need is because of Todd. No, I’m not saying my husband is the cause of all my problems. On the contrary, he generally fixes most of the messes I get myself into. But, at the moment, he’s sick in bed. He’s been permanently fixed in that bed since early Thursday afternoon and, on doctor’s orders, won’t be seeing the light of day from anywhere but that bed before Saturday. Yes, Saturday. That’s right people, my always-has-to-be-doing husband is laid-up for at least another few days and I’m… well, I’m in mourning.

I don’t like being a single parent. It’s hard- stinkin’ hard! I also don’t like being away from my husband. I kinda miss him (insert reader’s “poor baby” here). I refuse to be near him, let alone touch him because, well, I don’t think we own enough bleach for a bathtub full. He’s sick, but so far, the rest of us have been plague-free. That’s thanks, in part, to him being willing to be shut up in the bedroom without visitors or the comfort of TV (or anything really) so that the family might all be spared. The other part is because of the tea-tree/grapefruit seed oil/bleach combination that has been over every inch of this house (except the bedroom that I refuse to go into unless absolutely necessary). He feels miserably and it’s got to be killing him to just lie in bed, although I’m pretty sure he couldn’t do anything even if he was allowed out. The kids miss him. The dog misses him. Even I miss him. Please pray that he gets over this, and in the meantime, pray that my cookie bars last long enough for him to get over it! (They say laughter is the best medicine, but does that count for the nursing staff as well?)