Popcorn Popping?

Today in Nursery at church (which was Sami's first day, by the way), Karen went in to lead the singing time for the day, as she usually does. The kids love "Popcorn Popping," a fun activity song (and Sami's favorite song) actually about the springtime blossoms on apricot trees, how they resemble popcorn popping-- something little Floridians can really relate to. To get their attention and to remind them of the words, Karen recited the first line.

"I looked out the window and what did I see?" The idea was to get them to say the next phrase.

"Popcorn popping!" the kids exclaimed... except for Allie.

Allie's response? "Lizards!" And the kids all ran to the windows.

I suppose that's true, though, being in Florida. You can always find a lizard running across any window screen. She's a thinker, that one!

Tagged

I was tagged:

4 Jobs I've had:
- Pancake woman at BYU's Morris Center cafeteria
- CUTCO sales rep
- Handheld periscope inspector/repair person
- Junior High English Teacher

Places I've lived:
-CA, UT, FL


Movies I could watch again and again:
- The Music Man
- Father of the Bride
- School of Rock
- Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure

Favorite Foods:
- Pizza
- Carne Asada
- Mongolian Beef from PF Chang's
- French fries

A couple weird things about me:
- I can make three folds in my tongue
- My mom is convinced that I could do the moonwalk in elementary school. Whatever. I could do the wave, though.

Favorite (most recently read) books (besides scripture):
- Twilight by Stephenie Meyer
- New Moon by Stephenie Meyer
- I started Charlotte's Web, and it seemed cute

Fav Tv Shows:
- Lost
- Numbers
- 20/20
- Reruns of the Cosby Show or Home Improvement

4 Websites that I enjoy (besides my blogging buddies):
- Travelocity (I can dream, can't I?)
- NHC (National Hurricane Center-- essential right now)
- LDS Music Source (I'm ward choir director)
- Townhall-- actually, Kev actually scans it and then send me links to good articles

Places I'd rather be:
- Right now, nowhere (I'm actually content at this point). But when having a bad day...
- Venice
- The temple (it's peaceful and my kids can't go in there)

I tag:
Marcie K.
Michelle C.
Melissa F.

A Mommy Tantrum

I am not looking forward to this week. In fact I'm dreading it. I realize that's a terrible attitude, but, like Allie, emotion is something I feel deeply. And the "drama queen" in me soaks up all I feel into a big sponge and then wrings it out, squeezing until my knuckles turn white. Any time I feel "in the depths of despair," to quote Anne Shirley, I interpret that either as my life is ending or that I just hate that life. Of course it's not I I really do think my life is ending, nor do I really hate my life (wow, I would be seriously ungrateful!), but I have the habit of creating a hyperbole out of every situation.

This evening after dinner I thought it might be nice to go for a Sunday stroll. It is beginning to get a wee bit cooler (all right, it's just not as hot) in the evenings and I was feeling trapped-- needed to get out and walk, blow off some of the steam that was building up from all the whining and neediness. "Mommy, Mommy (whine, whine, whine), " or "Mom, (whine, whine, whine) I want some fruuuuuit snaaaacks." Lovely. Allie then announced, "Mom, I have to go potty."

"Great, Allie, let's go." I grabbed her hand, and we walk to the bathroom. She stood there and danced around. I realized she needed help with her dress, so I got that off of her. She still stood there... doing nothing.

"Allie, what are you doing? Pull your underwear down."

"No, you do it, Mom." Are you kidding me? I walked out. A tantrum followed, and the little twerp went in "time-out." After she finished her sentence, I took her hand and we walked back to the bathroom. No problems this time. It did take twenty minutes to get her back in her clothes, though.

Finally, we were ready to go on a walk. The amount of time for that walk was continually getting shorter and shorter. I announced for Allie to get her shoes on, and Sami tried to help herself by slipping on one of my heels. She looked at me and declared, "Shoes!" Good job, Sam.

We all went in the kitchen, but then Allie saw what Sami was wearing. "Sam, you can't wear that shoe," and she began to reach for Sami's foot.

"Allie, no, don't take it off. I'll do it." She didn't listen. "Allie, stop! Don't!" She picked up Sami's foot from behind and began pulling her leg, and Sami fell. "Allie, I said no! What part of that don't you understand!" I lost it. "Allie, why can't you just leave her alone! And why can't you just listen to me?!"

"How would you like it, " and I walked behind her,"if I said, 'I don't want you to wear those shoes, Allie! Take them off!' and grabbed your foot like this..." I grabbed her foot, not anticipating that she would try to move forward at the same moment. The combination of the two movements, threw her off balance, and she went flying to the side, her head hitting the dishwasher. She burst out crying, and I knew she was hurt. I picked her up and carried her to the couch to examine her. She held her ear, and I pulled her hand away to find the top of her ear had been split open. I rushed her to the bathroom and put pressure on the wound with a damp washcloth. Unfortunately, I was in such a bad mood at this point that I couldn't even feel sorry, and I was getting irritated with Sami who had followed me into the little bathroom and was trying to play around me. Within five minutes the bleeding had stopped, but I kept pressure on it for about five minutes more, just to make sure. I applied the antibiotic ointment, and a bandage, and then I finally began feeling remorseful. I hugged her and apologized. She's always so quick to forgive. By then it was way too late for a walk, but we went on one anyway. I needed a distraction.

Of course, my "mommy tantrum" picked up right where it left off when we walked in the house as Allie whined and demanded that I put her shoes on the shoe rack, which was right next to her. The conversation distracted me, causing me to walk into and knock over Sami, who then whacked her head on the tile.

Ugh. Will I ever get this right?

In the Past Month

After Allie turned three in March I realized that she could start preschool in the fall. I had heard good things about a local Montessori school, and since I had gone to one when I was a week tike, I went to check it out. Back in April I made an appointment to tour the facility. Upon stepping onto the little campus, I was overwhelmed with the way the children seemed to be herded like cattle. The anxious mothers were all rushing their kids inside so they wouldn't be late for work, and the four-year class was rehearsing some complicated alphabet chant they were preparing for their graduation ceremonies. The woman at the front desk was quickly attentive to me, but didn't pay much mind to their possible future pupil. It oddly felt more like a daycare than a school. After talking with our guide on our tour I found out that all children came to school M-F. Five days... for a three-year-old. That would make a whole lot of sense for someone who worked, but not for me. You could pay for a few hours a day, or the cost increased significantly as the need for late care arose, even until six at night. And that's where that "daycare" feeling came from-- many people did use it that way, which obviously was the intent. Then I asked about tuition.

"It's $110."

"Oh, a month?"

"No, a week." Oh, how silly of me.

A week?! It didn't take me long to pack the girls up in the car giving the "I'll let you know..." excuse. In spite of all that, including a few months of contemplating Joy School, I found a great little school put on by a Baptist church. Three days a week for three hours a day at $125 a month. Much better. The classes each only have 6-8 kids and Allie's teacher is so patient and kind. Allie really needed to get away from me, and I needed to get away from her... if that doesn't sound terrible. In our case, it has been good for our relationship to have some time apart each day. Allie loves being there with her friends everyday, painting, playing with puzzles, and learning to interact and cooperate with people other than Mom, Dad, and Sami. Of course she got some of that in Nursery each Sunday, but only one day a week of that wouldn't make much of an impact with Allie. It sure has been nice, too, to have a few hours for a few days a week to spend time with Sami. I can go to Target with one, that's right, one child. After you have more than one, you cherish those opportunities.

The week before Allie started preschool, we actually took a short trip out west. We spent a couple days in the Phoenix area to be at the sealing of Bella to Kevin's brother Ryan and his wife Rachelle. His two sisters and his parents were there, too, along with some of the cousins for the girls to play with. We stayed with my Aunt Gina, and the girls had to get used to a couple playful doggies racing around like wild monkeys. Then Kev flew home, and I flew to San Diego with the girls to spend five days with my parents and grandparents. My Grandma Betty even made the long drive down from Oregon to spend some time with us, since we hadn't seen her in years and she had never met her great-grandbabies. The girls were in heaven in that big backyard, racing around barefoot in the soft grass (we miss that), riding around in the wagon, feeding the fish, going "strawberry picking" in Grampi's (my grandpa's) garden, and having "tea parties" in my old playhouse from childhood, or the "gingerbread house" as Allie calls it. The girls got to see Uncle Evan and his girlfriend Jillian, and Grandpa took us all to the beach, but since the water was so cold to us Floridians, we only last thirty minutes. What a fabulous trip!And the girls weren't even that difficult on the flight home, which was much appreciated since on the flight to Phoenix, Allie both pooped in her pants and puked, and Sami somehow peed all over my leg-- not that her diaper was full, but she somehow had situated herself in the right position to create an opening through which to pee. Kev was surprised that I laughed when it happened-- that I was in good spirits about getting peed on, but at that point I think I was just on verge of insanity.

Last weekend, on a whim, we took a day-trip out to the west side of the state. We stopped a the Florida Aquarium in Tampa, where Allie biffed it while trying to climb a ledge, and gave herself a nasty rug burn just under her right eye. We also got to go to the beach at Ft. Desoto (see previous post for more details on the beach), also stopping afterwards to spend a few minutes at the actual fort. Nothin' fancy, but they had some cannons and mortars that Allie and Sami thought were pretty neato.

I know this is all a bit late (not like any of you really care), but between trying to get back in the swing of life, as well as beginning another independent study class, along with Kevin's birthday, I've been pretty swamped. I actually should be doing school work right now, but I was beginning to feel a bit guilty about not having written an update... not so much for your sakes, but because I save this stuff for family history. And I don't want to get behind. I'd like to feel like I can stay on top of at least one aspect of my life.

Could There Be Anymore Poop Stories?

Saturday afternoon as we were driving from Tampa to a beach just outside of St. Petersburg, I got to thinking about a story my friend Bonnie had told me. I was venting to her one day a couple months ago about my woes regarding Allie and her refusal to, well, poop in the toilet, and how she pooped in our community pool, which left me mortified. Like in stores that post bounced checks, I swear I've seen our pictures posted in the clubhouse with the heading, "Do not let this rubbish in, no matter what!" Bonnie told me about how their oldest had pooped on the sand at the beach the previous year, when she was five. Not knowing what to do, they just buried it in the sand. I laughed. I pondered the story as we neared the coastline, wondering what I would do in that situation. I decided that since we usually bring toys with us, I would simply scoop it up in a bucket and toss it in the nearest bush... then I realized that this time we had no toys. Heck, we were 2 1/2 hours from home, and I wasn't about to pack up a bunch of toys to drag around an unfamiliar beach. I thought, Eh, she won't poop. Not here. I tried really hard to convince myself of this, but deep down I knew it was a bunch of hooey.

We trekked out to the beach, just to see there was sort of a narrow, shallow "intercoastal waterway." We walked a ways trying to find a way across when we realized everyone was just crossing through the knee-deep water at the narrowest part. Good thing I didn't bring that trunk-load of toys! After crossing and finding a spot, we dumped our bags and raced out to the water. Well, Dad and Allie "raced," but I stayed behind to help poor Sami, the wimp, gather enough courage to go out. The courage never came, so I picked her up, and took her in the water, with the turkey whining and clinging to me the whole time. Not ten minutes passed when Allie grabbed her behind. Kev pointed it out, and I scooped her up and headed back towards land. Why is that when you need to get somewhere quickly, it suddenly seems so painfully far away, and you can't move your legs fast enough? Twenty yards becomes twenty miles. I finally got to the sand, "three hours" later, and put Allie down, with her still holding her bum.

"Mom, I have to poop!"

"I know, honey, hold it in! Hold it in!"

The waterway we had to walk across to be able to get back to a bathroom was still at least 100 yards away. I trudged through the sand, and Allie fell behind. I stopped to wait, looking for her dance of discomfort when I realized she didn't look uncomfortable at all. Oh no! I walked back, peeked around at her back side, and saw a big brown spot on her shorts. Praying the "gift" wouldn't fall in the sand at that point, in front of a dozen people, I told her to walk slowly. Didn't work. She did walk very carefully, understanding exactly why I had instructed her to do so, but just that little amount of motion was enough to dislodge it. It landed in the sand directly in front of a couple sitting in their beach chairs. I looked up to see if they had seen, and it seemed they were distracted elsewhere, so, thinking fast, I was reminded of Bonnie's story, and I buried it. I used my foot to drag sand over it, making a thick pile, and I hoped with all my being that no one had seen. I made Allie go sit in the water for a while, washing out the remnants. Oh, come one, it's the ocean, for crying out loud! A little bit of Allie's feces is hardly going to hurt anyone! We then walked all the way to the restroom, because Allie was convinced she still needed to go. After walking back, Kev came back over with Sami, and I informed him of recent happenings. He quickly sympathized, and then asked if he could go out and body surf for a bit. Ugh, fine. Not two minutes after he left, with me walking back up the beach with the girls, Allie grabbed her crotch.

"Mom, I need to pee!"

"What are you talking about, Allie?! You just peed in the toilet a few minutes ago! I think you're fine. You can hold it." Bad choice, Mom.

Her hand then moved to her behind again.

"Mom, I need to poop again!"

Should have listened before. "Hold it in, Allie! Let's go! Hurry!"

She didn't get five feet before another blob fell out of her shorts. Again, I panicked and looked around. Phew, no one saw it! My foot was getting quite skilled at this whole burying-poop-thing (not a skill I had ever hoped to have to master), and I commanded Allie to sit herself down in the water again. Of course! All of this would happen when Kev's not around! It didn't take long for Kev to make his way back to us. His head drooped and shook from side-to-side when I told him of the ordeal. He said we should have just taken her to a dog beach.

Maybe I should just get myself a Pooper Scooper.