Put your New shoes on and suddenly everything's Right

Let's cut right to the chase: my kids made my feet big. People kept assuring me that my feet would magically shrink after a while. So, I waited. And waited. As a result, when Sam was 8 months old I had exactly two pairs of shoes that fit. So, I got really impatient and bought three new pairs in a week. Might not sound like a lot, but it was a new personal record. I put them on for the first time last week and came down the stairs. Paddy walked up to me and asked quite clearly, "Mommy, are those your new shoes?" "Yes," I replied, smiling. "They look nice!" said Paddy. My favorite compliment all month.

Baby Buffet: Under the Learning Tower

Sam finding some illicit food under the tower after the twins eat.

Back to the Plains Part I: St. Joseph is in the Yard

Well, I've put this off long enough. Maybe the journey here wore me out a little ;) But the time has come to let everyone know that yes, we made it to the plains. So here's our story!

. . .



It was on a warm Memorial Day weekend when Aunt Karen asked about the box on our table, "What's this?" "That," I replied, "is something I've been meaning to bury."

This was our second shot at trying to sell our house, the first being B.S. (before Sam). The practice of trying to "stage" our house with twin 2 year olds and me 8 months pregnant wasn't really working for us, so we decided to pull off the market until 'spring', which meant until we could deal with the whole mess again.

We had had one honest-to-goodness offer the first time around, but unfortunately the buyers had to sell their house first so it just didn't happen. The same buyers were back in the spring and actually approached us while we were off the market, but again they failed to sell their house.

So it was back to trying to keep the house "clean". Ha Ha Ha! And hope for the best. That's where St. Joseph comes in. Bury him in your yard, ask him to intercede for you, and voila! No more showings.

So Aunt Karen took the twins out to the front yard, dug a hole with the shovel, and dropped in St. Joseph. No, I'm not sure if he was upside down, facing the entry, etc. But I did say a quick prayer to myself when I found out what was going on. Might as well do this sincerely. Then, true to form, we went camping. And forgot all about such material things as houses and statues and 'for sale' signs.

Out in the Sun

Summer is in full swing here and I'm constantly applying sunscreen, "You need it so you don't get burnt," I tell them over and over again.

So this morning, we were eating peanut butter toast as a snack and I had given Isaac a couple of pieces made with *gasp* the crust. "Too hard!" He complained and refused to eat it. So, I had the great idea of microwaving his crust pieces slightly to soften them. However, as I only use one button on the microwave (just ask hubby) I cooked the toast a wee bit too long and it was hot as well as soft. Isaac declared it too hot to eat, but Patrick touched it first to check, "Finger burnt!" he called. I wasn't too worried as I knew it wasn't that hot. "Just wait until it cools off more," I replied. Patrick had a different idea, and held out his hand, "Sunscreen on it!"

Raising yuppie toddlers

I thought I was pretty down-to-earth. But often these little guys serve as a perfect, somewhat unnerving mirror to my own behavior. The other day Patrick was standing on the tower trying to reach something on the counter. He was jabbering about something but for the life of me I couldn't figure out what. So we played the game where I picked up everything on the counter one by one, "This?" I said, "This one?" Finally I had picked up all the two dozen or so items (yes, the counters were not that clean)...except for the cork from tonight's wine. I held it up. "Yes!" he exclaimed. Then I all of the sudden knew what he had been saying all along, "Mommy, smell cork!"

Toddler Hit-and-Run

A truck in the hand is worth two in the bush...

The other day I was at the park with a friend and her two-year-old son. The three two year-old boys were playing fairly nicely when her son decided he was done sharing. "Share one of your trucks with Isaac," my friend said. "No," he replied firmly. (Wow, don't they love that word when they finally learn to use it!) When my friend pressed the issue he ran away, and I looked up to see him 'hiding' in the middle of a large bush:



I burst out laughing. All the commotion must have made his two-year-old stubborness give out; he soon decided to come out of the bush and share again. ;)