"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare."
~Ed Asner

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Where the H did that come from?

I ask myself that question all the time. Whether I'm looking at myself, my children; or the mysteries that lurk under my couch and at the bottom of the toy box. When I clean out the bottom of the toy box I find objects of an unknown origin. I wonder if some of their toys meld together with the dog hair-food bits-juice-and whatever else ends up at the bottom to become something else entirely.

Yesterday, it was Izzie and the spoon VS. Momma and the mashed potatoes. These were no ordinary mashed potatoes. First of all, these were potatoes from my parents house. Izzie thought they were magic because they came out of the ground. I mixed and mashed until they were super creamy and super smooth. I added some milk and liquid gold, butter, and mixed and mashed some more. I made sure there were absolutely no lumps, bumps, or potato peel bits. It was a beautiful thing.

I have a strategy with Izzie. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. When she tries a new food, or something she doesn't want, we do four things. First she touches the food with her fingers. Then she smells it, followed by licking it. Finally she takes a small bite. This is where we usually run into trouble. The mashed potatoes were no exception. Her first bite was followed by gagging, trying to spit it out, and barely managing to swallow it. She took a drink of water and it was over. I spent the next twenty minutes trying to get her to try again. I held up my napkin and waived it in defeat as Izzie and the spoon came out victorious. The glorious potatoes were taken to a better place. Beast gobbled them right up and cried for more. My wrist, on the other hand, did not fare so well. I had to put ice on it from overuse with the hand held mixer. I didn't realize making dinner for Izzie would result in injury.

Izzie is already on a vitamin and her pediatrician suggested that if things don't improve I would need to take her to a dietitian. I think that's where were at. I'm not sure if she's dealing with texture issues, gag reflux, or both. It is definitely not just her being picky because she does try poor thing. She didn't eat much after the potato half-bite and I knew what was coming. She would wake up early the next morning famished or with a tummy ache or both.

Six 'o clock rolls around and guess who climbs up on my bed and declares that she is hungry? Neither her or Beast took a nap today. They spent two hours in their room plotting world domination. I don't think I have to tell you how crabby our evening went. I put them to bed early. I was tucking Izzie in when she heard a noise. I didn't hear anything. Oh, wait a minute. There it was again. Thunder. I told her it was thunder and that she would be fine. The thunder was way high up in the sky and couldn't get her. She said goodnight and I shut the door. I checked the weather because I didn't think we were supposed to get any rain or storms and guess what? There was a tornado warning for our area.

I went outside to let Dakota in and gather up some onions that were drying out on the table. You could see the storm rolling in pretty quickly. The thunder boomed and the lightening was insane. I was trying to decide if I wanted to haul the babies downstairs. Within a minute, the wind whipped up and knocked me off balance. As I was trying to gather up all the onions that flew out of my hands when I made a graceful fall to the ground, I heard the tornado sirens go off. Argh, I went inside to get the babies up. There are a couple of trees right outside their room that make me nervous when the wind picks up. Of course, the babies were excited. I also woke up Kris. I felt bad because he had only been in bed for a couple of hours and had to get up in another couple of hours. But I didn't think it would have been very wifey of me if a tornado came through and I left my husband upstairs asleep in bed.

We I took the babies down to the basement. Kris went outside to watch the storm. Thankfully, the storm blew by fast and we had no damage. Not too far away, some of our friends had some major damage. Noah and Izzie weren't too happy about going back to bed. Noah wanted to play outside and Izzie was worried because she couldn't sleep. They were both out within minutes.

I wish I could do that. I have to do this first.

Folding laundry during the day has become more of a game in which I chase after Beast, picking up the pieces of clothing he flings through the air as he runs from room to room. He laughs and screams and wraps Izzie's underwear around his head. They're clean people. Still in order to keep from emotionally scarring my husband forever, I will refrain from posting a picture...for now, hehe. What can I say, Noah just looks so darn cute no matter what he's doing. If I want to have anything folded and put away and not stuffed somewhere that will turn up months later, I have to fold laundry at night. Or in the morning...like 12:30 a.m.

Kris and I are taking the babies away for a couple of days. We're only staying away one night but I'll take it. We haven't been on vacation, even a weekend away, in over two years. Every couple of weeks, okay every day, I have this urge to throw everyone in the truck and run away for a month. Hmm, where would we go? What would we do? I just started reciting a Dr. Seuss book in my head. It is time for me to put the laundry and then myself to bed.


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