I'll be Home for Christmas

This year started the controversial and interesting Mouse Family Christmas Tradition. After the previous few years of disappointing one set of relatives by not being at their house on Christmas morning, we decided to disappoint all of our relatives by spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at our house.

This was the first year Santa Mouse was going to make a grand and big debut and while it's difficult to travel with one little mouse, it would be downright impossible to travel with both of them. (Ok, we could have done it, but we [read: I] chose not to this year. We see our families pretty frequently and we will see them much more when we move in a few months.) So we spent the afternoon before Christmas hanging out as a family. The Christmas tree had been decorated, the presents purchased and wrapped and there wasn't much to do other than just sit around and enjoy each other's company. I prepared a special meal (roast chicken, scalloped potatoes and green beans. Please don't ask me why this was special, it just was. I cook like this all the time, but I actually put it on the table to serve rather than us fixing our plates straight off the stove.) LM sat in her high chair for the first time! After we ate, we read Jesus' birth story from Luke and then some age appropriate bible stories about Christmas for BigM, who was practically bored senseless from the real Bible.

(You can't tell from this picture, it looks like LM is the one bored senseless.) I pray they will someday treasure those words, but at 2 1/2 and six months, I'm not concerned. Then we set out the cookies and milk for Santa (see?) and put the kiddos to bed.

On Christmas morning, the kids slept in! I guess BigM forgot Santa was coming, because we finally woke her up around 8. (Her Christmas gift to us was not waking up at her normal 6:30. So thoughtful!) After a gentle reminder that Santa may have left her some presents in the living room, she slowly meandered down the hall and found all kinds of gifts just for her! Her reaction? (Very bored voice), "Wook, Mama. Woller skates and a bouncy ball. Why isn't it a pink bouncy ball? I wanted a pink one." Sure, Santa got her EXACTLY what she asked for, but where's the enthusiasm, kiddo? After that thrilling escapade, we ate breakfast and LM got to try rice cereal for the very first time. She liked it. There's not much of a story there.

BigM and I baked cookies and we took her outside to try out her new roller skates. She looks really cute in them, but she definitely needs to practice a lot more before she can go out on the open road.

Merry Christmas, friends!

One Potato, Two Potato, Three Potato, Four...

You don't know a lot about me (or maybe you do, but humor me here.)

A few facts:
1. I consider myself green ("lime" if you're going to make me pick a shade) and taking care of our planet is very imporant to me.
1a. I cloth diaper, and I love it.
1b. I use only organic cleaners (except that stuff you squirt in the toilet bowl, we have well water and the only way to keep the potty white is to use the blue Lysol cleaner. The green one with bleach doesn't work, go figure.)
1c. I recycle everything my recycling center accepts.
1d. I am so adamantly pro-breastfeeding... but I will never judge or think badly of you if you choose not to or if you can't or if you just you don't want to. And it's a good thing I am such a wholehearted supporter, because I could nurse quadruplets without supplementing. Lucky me with my oversupply. (I am possibly fanatic and now I am interested in checking out being some type of educator like my friend, Jackie (ironic for those of you who "really" know me.) Although with my track record on a followthrough for most of my ideas, I'll probably just stick with being fanatic for now.)

Expanding on 1d: I am so excited that we made it almost the full 6 months without starting solids that I don't know what to do with myself. I don't feel like going into why it's "green" to breastfeed but the real reason and entire point I want to make is to mark a big occasion in LM's life:

LM had her first solids today: sweet potatoes. Yum.

I'm Watching You...

LM just adores her big sister. I actually think they adore each other, which surprises me. I have a younger mouse brother, and I can say without a doubt as a child, I did not adore him. I'm pretty familiar with sibling rivalry. My mom loves to tell me about the time someone asked me if I was excited to have a little brother and I said, "I'd rather have kittens." Given my history with cats, you know that's pretty big.

Anyway, LM has these huge blue eyes and no matter what BigM is doing, LM is always watching her with such admiration. And a lot of the times, BigM is not doing something worth admiring. Give her a break, she's only 2 and she's going through one of those independent streaks. So the majority of my day is spent saying, "BigM, why did I put you in time out?" Her rote answer is, "Betause I was a bad wistener." Even if she received said time out for hitting me or throwing her toys... she has learned that the reason for her punishment is "because she was a bad listener." Apparently that is an overused phrase in our household. But no one can make LM laugh like BigM can and she just looks at BigM like she's the most interesting creature on the face of the earth. (Actually, she probably is. The rest of us are giants.)

BigM could not be a sweeter big sister; even when LM scoots over and disturbs her toys or pulls her hair or does some equally annoying little sister thing, BigM rarely gets mad. And when LM cries, BigM is the first to run over and try and console her with a big kiss and a hug and if that fails, she'll yell, "Div her some Mommy Miwlk, she hungree," even if the reason she's upset is because I set her down right after nursing.

I really do hope they will become the best of friends. I'm charting new territory here- I adore my lil bro now, but we really didn't get along when we were kids- mostly because I was a snotty, mean older sister (I'll admit it. And I should probably call him and apologize now!)

Oh Christmas Tree

Anybody seen the Charlie Brown Christmas special yet? Well, regardless, I know you'll probably see it sometime this season. When you do, I want you to really think about what that "Charlie Brown Christmas Tree" looks like and then imagine it without the sparse ornaments and Linus' blanket and the soft glow. THAT was our first tree.

I am a Mommy Mouse with grand grand ideas. Unfortunately, I am first just a Mommy Mouse so the kids and the housework take precedence to my grand ideas, but I still have them nonetheless. I've always had grand ideas but just lack the followthrough and the gumption to get them done. Which is why we ended up with a 9 foot Christmas tree the first year we were married. Did I mention we only had about 14 ornaments?

I do not want this to happen to my little mice so DM and I have started a tradition where we buy our mice an ornament each year. (I won't lie, we didn't do it last year so we got BigM 2 this year. Please don't tell her. In my defense, I was so sick from being pregnant with LM that the holidays passed and I don't think I noticed. Even with pictures I'm not positive they even happened at all.) This year, we have invited our extended families to participate in the ornament bestowing, so hopefully when my little mice have left the mouse nest (gulp!) and start their own little mouse families, they will be able to decorate their trees with something other than curling ribbon and pinecones they found in the backyard.

The Secret is in the Sauce

BigM is funny. (I think I could start every entry that way!) No really, she is hilarious. Over our Thanksgiving break, she was looking at a wildlife calendar with my mom and my mom was telling her what the different animals were. BigM was a little stumped on one she had never seen before, so my mom gave her a little animal lesson. Or maybe BigM gave my mom one...

BigM: What are dose, Sassy?
Sassy: Those are bison.
BigM: I see dose bi-sauces.
Sassy: No, sweetie, those are bison.
BigM: Bi-sauces.
Sassy: No, they are bison.
BigM: NO, Sassy! Dere are TWO of dem! BI-SAUCES!

I can't stop laughing.

Seeing Red

My husband said it best, "If you had asked me 2 years ago if I would ever go to a Wiggles concert, I would have said no and heck no." (Well, that's not exactly what he said but this is a G-rated blog.) Yes, we did it. We took BigM (and LM) to see the Wiggles yesterday. All I have to say is, "Wow."

Some highlights from the show:
1. Anthony (the blue Wiggle) got stuck in an accidental split.
2. Jeff fell asleep (anyone surprised?)
3. LM fell asleep (again, anyone surprised?)
4. Captain Feathersword sang an impromptu song about "biscuits, gravy and grits" with Little Miss Muppet that made him laugh so hard he barely sang the song.
5. Greg (the yellow Wiggle) is now Sam (the new? yellow Wiggle)
6. "J.T.," who sat three rows behind us made a sign that Murray (the red Wiggle) could not read from the stage (and I'm not surprised, our seats were so high up that I was getting lightheaded) so he made his way up to our seats so he could read it. Women, men and children practically stampeded each other just to get near him, touch him or take a picture of him. I kept waiting for some mom to take off her bra and throw it to him. Our BigM was not exactly impressed by his close proximity. I was proud. He's just a guy, he puts on his red striped pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of us, and according to BigM, "He sweating a wot, Mama." (She considered Dorothy the Dinosaur and the "big red car" much more impressive.)

All in all, we had a great time and I can now say I've eaten "Fruit Salad" and "Hot Potatoed" with the Wiggles- and not just in my living room in my pjs.

Little Einstein

BigM is so funny. I've enjoyed sending her to school because she learns so many cool things that I wouldn't have thought to teach her. Like drinking from a cup, I have to admit I am SO glad she learned that on someone else's floor. And she surprises me with lots of new phrases- which is also fun and entertaining. Well today is DM's 30th birthday, so I picked her up from school early so we could go have lunch with him. As we were driving there, she said something clever, so I told her she was smart.

I get back, "No Mama, I smarty pants."
"Well, BigM, you're right, you are a smarty pants." (Actually she was wearing a cute striped dress and some fashionable red tights.)
She responds, "No Mama, today I not smarty pants, I smarty tights!"

Bug Off!

I'm not really an outside person. (Did my love for animals clue you in on that one?) Anyway, it's a wonder I agreed to honeymoon in St. Lucia at a place called Ladera Resort. It's located on a mountain and each "room" only has 3 walls. The fourth wall is open to the sky or the mountain or what have you, so needless to say, not only do you and your honey sleep in there, so does an assortment of wildlife. There was a lizard in our shower, a bird in our living room and bugs everywhere. We slept under a mosquito net every night.

So anyway, we met a few other couples staying there, and by the end of the week we had gotten to be "friends." Just to give you a little background, we had all been discussing the different wildlife we had found in our rooms. (One couple found a tarantula. No lie, and had it not been our last night, we would have high-tailed it to the Holiday Inn.) Imagine a tall skinny blonde girl with a squeaky voice, like a little mouse (I knew I could relate it somehow!) with a personality to match that voice. Really nice, very funny but not exactly all there. Don't forget to read the next part in the squeaky voice or it won't have the right effect. You may have to read it out loud. Just trust me.

"So my new husband and I really like to play cards in bed, and a couple of nights ago, we had just turned out the light and I felt his hand brush up against my leg, so I pushed it away and said, 'Oh honey, Stop it!' but he didn't stop and then I heard him snore so I turned the light back on real quick and threw off the covers and there was a centipede crawling up my leg!"

Ladera Resort offers its honeymooners a discount if you go back for your 10 year anniversary. I have to admit, should we take a trip to celebrate, I may just want to head to one where it's just the two of us, no bugs allowed.

I licked a ninja...

because I'm sexy and I do what I want.

I got this off one of my favorite websites. Leave yours as a comment. There is no prize, this is not a contest, there is no compensation... but you will laugh when you are done.

Pick the month you were born:
January-------I kicked
February------I loved
March--------I karate chopped
April----------I licked
May----------I jumped on
June----------I smelled
July-----------I did the Macarena with
August--------I had lunch with
September----I danced with
October-------I sang to
November-----I yelled at
December-----I ran over
Pick the day (number) you were born on:
1-------a birdbath
2-------a monster
3-------a phone
4-------a fork
5----- --a snowman
6-------a gangster
7-------my mobile phone
8-------my dog
9-------my best friends' boyfriend
10-------my neighbor
11-------my science teacher
12-------a banana
13-------a fireman
14-------a stuffed animal
15-------a goat
16-------a pickle
17-------your mom
18-------a spoon
19------ - a smurf
20-------a baseball bat
21-------a ninja
22-------Chuck Norris
23-------a noodle
24-------a squirrel
25-------a football player
26-------my sister
27-------my brother
28-------an ipod
29-------a surfer
30-------a llama
31-------A homeless guy
Pick the color of shirt you are wearing:
White---------because I'm cool like that
Black---------because that's how I roll.
Pink----------- because I'm crazy.
Red-----------because the voices told me to.
Blue-----------because I'm sexy and I do what I want
Green ---------because I think I need some serious help.
Purple---------because I'm AWESOME!
Gray ----------because Big Bird said to and he's my leader.
Yellow--------because someone offered me 1,000,000 dollars
Orange --------because my family thinks I'm stupid anyway.
Brown---------because I can.
Other----------because I'm a Ninja!
None----------because I can't control myself!

Roots

I just found out from my friend, Fish, that November is National Adoption Awareness Month. One would think being adopted myself, that I would know that... but in all honesty, I don't feel adopted so it's not something I really focus on too much. My birth mother was only 15 years old when she had me and that is the only thing I know about her. That, and she is one of the most selfless people in the world.

Big Mouse was due one day before my birthday. So my pregnancy with her was special in so many ways- not only was she was my first baby- she was my first known relative and I got to experience a pregnancy almost exactly like my birth mother did (I now know my birth mother probably experienced horrible morning sickness and did have stretch marks. I'll not tell you where.) Through both of my children, I've received insight into my ancestors, if through appearances only.

BigM looks exactly like DM. As if I weren't any part of the equation- and he can be certain without a doubt that the milkman didn't stop by... And LM has blue eyes. I have dark brown eyes. So it's safe to say someone (one of my birth parents, even) also had blue eyes. People keep asking me "who she looks like," and in all reality, I have to remind them there is an entire family out there who knows nothing about me or my mice and she probably looks just like them.

DM can trace his family tree back to the Mayflower. I can look in the mirror and see exactly where my family tree starts.

As I used to tell BigM at bedtime when she was a little mouse, "No one loves you more than your mommy." I know that in three ways - my birth mother who gave me up to give me a better life, my mother who provided me the best possible life and myself as a mother whose children make her life complete.

Trick or Treat...

Happy Halloween! Or as I will forever remember it as "the day I found out I was pregnant with LM."

It must have been a trick. I didn't mean to get pregnant with her, but here we are one year later and she's sitting in my lap dressed up in her hand-me-down bumblebee costume (thanks, BigM!) chewing on whatever she can reach- my thumb, her hand, her sleeve; it's all up for grabs. Until she was born, I wasn't positive I could welcome her into our family as happily as I would have if we planned for her. But finding out I was unexpectedly pregnant when 2 dear friends of mine had been trying for years made me remember that every single child is a precious gift from God. And if He thought I was ready, who am I to question the Creator of the universe?

Yet she's such a treat. I could not imagine my life without her in it. As I am finding out, I don't really remember what life was like without children and now without my LM. I am sure I used to have a lot more free time, but what did I do with all of it? Waste it, I'm sure.

Yes, Little Mouse is the sweetest and best surprise I've ever gotten.

M-I-C...K-E-Y...

It's official. Aside from finding the dead body (did I get your attention there?) the Mouse House has been returned to its "humans only" state. Mortimer (as he was dubbed by my friend, 'Tisha) has left the building.

After our early morning kitchen run-in, DM set up an enticing meal of peanut butter and cheese on a very very old snap trap. But Mortimer was a little too sneaky for that. He snapped that trap, stole my cheese and went back under the dishwasher. It was about that time that I noticed these little black specks in my bottom kitchen cabinets. A google investigation uncovered said black specks were, indeed, rat poop. (It's amazing what you find when you google "rat poop.") My pots and pans, tupperware and baking dishes were nothing but a playground for little Mortimer. So one by one, the pieces got run through the dishwasher and are still residing on my dining room table. I've got 2 mice of my own so I haven't had the time to get in there with the disenfecting cleaner. (note to self: stop blogging and do it now.)

My attitude towards Mortimer went back and forth, sometimes I felt sorry for the cute little guy and other times I was just hacked that the nasty rodent was invading my space. Late one night as I was sitting in the playroom, I saw him meander from the kitchen into the stairwell and presumably head down to the basement. With eyeballs as big as saucers, I ran back to tell sleeping DM and he just laughed. He also admitted he does not remember the exchange at all.

As Operation Put Cloth Diapers in Dryer had to be continued, battle tactics were launched:

1. Throw empty toilet paper roll (on it's way from the bathroom to the recycling bin) into the kitchen. Wait.

2. When nothing happens, set up child's chair, pick up e.t.p.r., stand on chair, flip on light and throw it into the stairwell.

3. When nothing happens, shake the door to see if enemy is hiding behind door or random box of junk that hasn't made its way downstairs.

4. When nothing happens, peer anxiously down stairwell.

5. When nothing happens, go back to kitchen to get load of laundry (find mouse droppings behind towel bin in pantry, BALLS!!!!!!), timidly walk down stairwell.

6. When nothing happens, flip on light and walk slowly down hall.

7. When nothing happens, flip on sitting room light.

8. When nothing happens, flip on kitchen light, peer anxiously around corner into kitchen.

9. When nothing happens, venture slowly into kitchen.

10. Almost wet pants as hear mouse scurry under unknown appliance.

11. With knowledge of enemy in hiding, continue OPCDID as normal.

12. Walk back upstairs and get mouse poison, take back to downstairs kitchen, place on floor and kick into corner.

13. Walk back upstairs and hear strange noises coming from upstairs kitchen, assume house is being taken over by rodents and plan to move in 2 1/2 months.

The following morning, DM and I went on a date (with our children) to Wal-mart to get the latest and greatest in mouse traps. DM reached for a snap trap the size of my keyboard, but my mood right then was "Mortimer is cute" so I opted for one of those live traps where you put a peanut butter cracker in it, mouse goes in trap, door closes, mouse is trapped and you can take him outside, alive and unharmed. I have a friend, Denise, who is a big animal fan and I kept picturing her crying as Mortimer got snapped up.

Next morning, no mouse. Left the house all day long, again no mouse- and this time I noticed a peanut butter smear on the side of the trap, shaped exactly like a mouse. (DM says it's where his finger smudged on the way out but I stand behind my observation.) I mentioned this fact to 2 of my friends, Marge and Shannon, and they both gently reminded me that rats breed like rabbits do and where there's one, there's usually a little mouse family. I so did not need to know that, so DM picked up a snap trap on his way home and I set up more D-Con under the cabinets. We left town for 24 hours and when we got home, both traps were empty. I have to admit I was a little disappointed. BUT, about 1/2 the D-Con was gone! Apparently, there was a mouse party and he (they?) all ODed.

"Write" on, Sister!

In my days before I was a Mommy Mouse, I was a personal trainer. (Well, when I just had BigM, I was a personal trainer then too, but now I'm just a Mommy Mouse.) Anyway, I still sub aerobics classes at the gym from time to time and tonight was one of those times.

When I came home tonight, I walked into the mud room and as I was taking off my shoes, I heard BigM say, "I wiwl tewl her dat we doen wite on Wittle Mouse." Seriously? I continue into the kitchen where I find DM consoling LM and he says, "If you heard that, you heard it correctly. BigM, do you have something you wanted to tell Mommy?"

Nodding her head very solemnly, she says, "Mommy, Ime sowwy I wote on Wittle Mouse."

While DM was on the phone in another room, BigM wrote all over LM's face with a ball point pen. I am positive it would have happened if I had been there but I'm hoping he will now believe me when I say, "You can't leave her alone even for a second." At least not with a ball point pen...

Big Talker

So why do I go and brag about how on top of things I am? Remember how I told you I was soooooo smart and saavy about getting my Christmas cards ordered and how clever I was to do them as change of address cards too?

Well... long story short, we're probably not moving into the house we currently own. We found out today that we may have an opportunity to purchase a bigger house in a "better" neighborhood (at the off chance I'm offending my existing neighbors, I apologize.) We'll know this weekend if we're taking the plunge but looks like I just wasted $45 and 60 of my hard earned Pampers points. And I have 100 Christmas cards that are completely useless to me now, unless the house has termites or no kitchen or something equally upsetting.

I'll let you know what we decide. As is the ongoing theme in my life, there's always a story.

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

Well, only if you go to any major store. And I really don't like that, what happened to Thanksgiving? And for the last few years, Halloween? And this year, Summer? (I was in Kohl's at the end of August and they had trees and ornaments set up, already on sale. I have no words.)
But at the Mouse House, we took our Christmas card picture today! And after 100+ shots, I could narrow it down to 3 where both the mice were looking at the camera, both had pleasant looks on their faces and their hairdos weren't all over the place. Anybody who has even one child knows how hard it is to get a decent shot, but DM did a fabulous job taking the pictures and getting both of them to look at the camera at the same time.

Wonder where I was this whole time? Isn't the mommy usually dancing around, trying to make the kids laugh so they will be smiling (but we'll settle for just looking in the right direction, huh?) Not this MM. Nope, not me. I had a slightly more important role this year.

Picture it: we've got our classic red Radio Flyer wagon set up in front of the old magnolia tree. The mice are wearing their matching overalls with white long-sleeved t-shirts. BigM is sitting in the wagon and LM is sitting in her lap. (If you look at LM's ticker, today anyway, it will say she is exactly 4 months old. I know she's super baby, but I don't know many 4 month olds who can sit up unsupported. Mine certainly can't.) So that leaves MM lying flat on the ground behind the wagon, clutching LM's overall straps for dear life to make sure she stays upright. Are you picturing this? Are you laughing?

What inspired this impromptu photo shoot? Remember, I'm a professional bargain shopper, and shutterfly is offering a great deal if you order 50 cards by Oct 29th, they will give you an additional 25 cards free. Combine that with my Pampers points- another 25 cards free! and I got 100 Christmas cards for less than $45, shipped directly to my house! And these mice will be moving in January, so I did a combo Christmas/New Address card all in one. I have to admit, I'm a little proud. Just so you know, I'll be the one laughing when I've got my cards stuffed, addressed, stamped and ready to be mailed 2 weeks before Thanksgiving. Have you taken your picture yet?

America's Next Top Model

You already know I'm "that mom." Today, I took LM to the Picture People at the mall for her 3 months pictures. Let's pretend she's not 3 3/4 months old, okay? BigM got her 3 (4, whoops) month pictures done at a super professional studio and I ended up spending 1/10 of my salary on pictures for her in the first year of her life (unfortunately, that is embarassingly true.) And now that I'm not working, spending any part of my "salary" on pictures for LM would be impossible, unless I take my own digital pictures and never print them.

Before we left, I gave LM a bath and when she comes out of the tub, her hair is a mass of curls. Yet somehow (given I have no training in hair styling) every single hair on her head ends up completely straight. Except today. All but about 28 strands were straight all over her head except around her left ear, one little curl decided to stick out, and it wasn't a pretty little curl, just the top curled so it ended up looking like she had slept on it wrong. So being a resourceful MM, I went into the bathroom and put water on it. So then it was wet and sticking out. And the photographer wanted to get started. So we took a billion pictures of her looking like she had some grease in her hair. Not cute (the hair anyway.) The rest of her is another story, she's adorable. Really. I can prove it- or...

apparently, I have "sucker" tatooed across my forehead, because the saleslady printed and blew up a couple of the pictures to 11 x 14 and put them in triple matted frames.

"Aren't these the most beautiful pictures of her? They really are wonderful! And they are only $149 each! A real steal!"

Well, little did she know I am a professional bargain shopper and I not only had a 30% off coupon, but I was only getting 4x6s on sheets. I kindly declined her *generous* offer and as I was leaving, she ran out and said, "Would you be interested in signing a modeling release so we can hang these in our studio?" I agreed so she hands me this release form saying she could not only hang the pictures but they could use them in nationwide advertising. So watch out, mice fans, you may just see LM in the Picture People ads!

That Sucks!

LM is obsessed with her pacifier. As in, it's the equivalent of crack for babies. It's borderline comical. BigM didn't really take one, so this is a new adventure for this MM. I always sort of cringed when I saw those moms who let their 5 year olds suck pacifiers as their shopping carts passed mine, but as I've found out on more than one occasion, you can't judge a mommy until you've walked around in her flip flops. (Although, if we let it go past 6 months, I'll be surprised. Ok, a year, tops.)

LM is a great sleeper once she gets there, but putting her down is a small hassle in the Mouse House (although it could be worse, she's been sleeping through the night since 11 weeks.) First we wait until BigM is asleep. Then have our last nursing session around 9ish, get a fresh diaper, read a quick story and it's off to the pack & play in our room. LM has no problem being put in her bed, but she will struggle and squirm around until she gets "just right." And you better believe one of us has to stand there and hold that paci in her mouth. She finally drifts off and we tip-toe tip-toe tip-toe out of the room where we then sit and wait. Without fail, about 7 1/2 minutes later, she starts fussing because that dang paci has fallen out of her mouth. I skitter down the hall (remember, I'm a mouse) as fast as my legs will carry me so she won't wake up her sister across the hall. Insert paci, instantly back to sleep. And sometimes, she will grab hold of the paci and pull it out of her own mouth. You should see the expression on her face, "Who the heck did that? Why would anyone do something so incredibly mean to me? Show your face, you thief!" I then wrench it out of her tightly closed fist (angering her further) and silently shove it back in her mouth... and she's out like a light. Repeat, repeat, repeat and she's down for the night.

So every once in awhile, that same paci-bandit strikes during naptime, which is why when DM came home this afternoon, he found LM snoozing in the bouncy seat- a paci in her mouth and one tightly clutched in each of her cute little fists.

Stillbirth Awareness and Research Act

I post this in memory of my friend Marge's precious little boy, Dekar. He was born and passed the day after LM was born, and it's hard for me to look at my sweet little mouse and not remember my dear friend's loss.

Please copy and paste the following on your blog if you have a minute.

October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day in the United States. More than 25,000 children are stillborn in the United States every year leaving mothers, entire families and communities devastated. Estimates of the rate of occurrence of stillbirth make it at least as common as autism.
Stillbirth is not an intractable problem. Greater research would likely significantly reduce its incidence, but good research requires good data. H.R. 5979: Stillbirth Awareness and Research Act is under consideration by Congress. This proposed bill would standardize stillbirth investigation and diagnosis, thus providing more data for the needed research. Better research means fewer children born still.
On October 15th, remember the thousands of unfinished children lost and the families who remain to grieve them. Honor them by taking action. Let’s help pass H.R. 5979.
Action Steps:
Step 1. Use Your Blog to Enlist Others-Copy the contents of this entire post and publish it on your blog immediately.
GOAL: Enlist 10 of your readers to spread the word
Step 2. Use Your E-mail to Enlist Others-E-mail 5 bloggers and ask them (nicely and in an unspammy way) to publish these action steps on their blog. Consider contacting celebrity bloggers, political bloggers, medical bloggers, or bloggers who are not part of your reading community.
GOAL: Enlist 3 bloggers outside of your normal blog sphere to spread the word in other online communities.
Step 3. Help Pass the Stillbirth Awareness and Research Act-By October 15th, publish a post on your blog supporting H.R. 5979 Stillbirth Awareness and Research Act. For maximum impact, title your post: “Stillbirth Awareness and Research Act.”
GOAL: 1,000,000 Google results on October 15th when that term is searched for. Currently, Google only returns 20,400 pages - most of which have nothing to do with the bill.
Thank you to Antigone for starting this movement.
More information HERE

"Welcome to OnStar"

This is the story of the day my dad almost gave up grandfathering. (He really said that.) I'll give you a little background, but really this story speaks for itself. One of my very best friends from college was getting married and DM had a school committment so he had to come a little later as I was in the wedding party and I was requested to attend the bridesmaids' luncheon the day before the wedding. So my parents very graciously offered to make the 5 1/2 hour drive with BigM and me. A few things I haven't told you about BigM as a baby:
1. She had horrible colic (horrible. Cried for 16 hours a day, straight. I'm not exaggerating, even though I tend to do that. She really did cry every second she was awake.)
2. She nursed every 1 1/2, for 45 mins. Meaning I nursed every 45 mins for 45 mins. It's a wonder I agree to be pregnant ever again.
3. She didn't particularly care for her carseat.
4. She never napped.

So this simple 5 1/2 hour trip ended up taking over 9 hours. And my dad really did say, "I think I would like to give up grandfathering. Is there any way we can trade this child in for another one?" So here goes. This is a true story. None of the account you are about to read has been exaggerated in any way.


“G-Pops, you just can’t pull into the Cracker Barrel and drop her off. She can breastfeed in the back of the car. No one will see her.” I can see the blood creeping up the back of my dad’s neck. All you have to do is mention the word “breast” and he turns purple.

But she’s right, I would rather park in the back parking lot than sit out front in one of those rocking chairs to nurse. BigM is now crying so hard she is holding her breath. Dad pulls the car in the Comfort Inn parking lot and announces he’s going on a walk. Fine, I think, just go. I don’t want you to see my breasts anymore than you want to see them. He practically jumps out of the driver’s seat before the car has even stopped and is gone before we can even say goodbye.

“Honey, what can I do to help,” my mom asks. As well meaning as she is, there’s not much she can do in this situation. I get BigM out of her carseat and she starts sucking like she has never eaten before. Peace and quiet, finally. Ha. As if it were that easy. Before I can stop her, BigM has let go and spits up all over me. “Crap,” I say (in front of my mother!) “She just spit up.” Now, of course, my mom (who is not always the most level headed when it comes to a crisis) says, “Oh Mommy Mouse, don’t let it get on the leather seats, your father is going to freak, let me help…”

WHOOWHOOWHOOWHOO… as my mom opens the door to help me, the car alarm starts to go off. “Shut the door, mom? How do you turn this thing off?” I scream. BigM starts screaming. Mom is screaming. The noise is deafening and people are starting to look.

Ring, ring. What the hell is that? “Hello,” shrieks my mom. “Hello? Yes?” I forgot my dad has that surround sound car cell phone thing. “Mrs. Jones, this is David calling from OnStar, we received an alert that your car alarm has gone off. Is everything o…”

“Oh David, you would not believe, my daughter is in the backseat breastfeeding and I got out to try and help her and then the car alarm started going off and her father has gone off with the keys because he can’t stand to see her breasts and I don’t know how to turn it off and I just don’t know what to do…” I kind of wish she would stop talking, but at least I don’t know this David character.

“Well, um, well Mrs. Jones, I can, uh, turn the alarm off for you if you would like.” Poor David, I know his face is red and I can’t even see him. Thankfully, the noise stops. “Oh, David, that would be wonderful. This baby is just more than we can handle. She’s…”

“Is there anything else I can do for you today,” David interrupts. Yeah, he’s required by the company to ask that question. David here wants to get off the phone as fast as he can so he can flick the lights and get everyone’s attention in the call center and tell them about the crazy nut he just talked to. (“Everybody listen, you guys will never believe this one…”)

Oh great, I’m going to be one of those commercials. I start laughing, mostly because there is not much else I can do. I have always told my mom she gives way too much information, but this really tops the cake. “Mom, you could have said, ‘Thank you for calling, I accidentally set the alarm off. Could you please turn it off?’ That poor guy is going to have nightmares for weeks!"

Now he’s sitting there with the phone in his hand wondering, ‘Just how was that woman supposed to help her daughter breastfeed?’”

Potty Talk

I honestly hope this is the last post I make about the potty. I'm getting a little tired of this subject, but this blog is suppsed to be about my little mice (the people kind, not the one hanging in my kitchen) and right now, BigM is much more interesting than LM. So she gets first billing- and this is what she did today.

Today was our first real attempt at potty training BigM. She woke me up saying, "Mommy, somfings wong" which is her new thing. Decoded, that means, "Mommy, I am going to make something up so you will come in here and play with me." But since it was 7:06, I knew we had to get moving if we were going to make our morning date with Greg, Anthony, Murray and Jeff. She surprised me by saying, "I want to twy my potty." Okay, here we go.

A few minutes in, I tee-tee on the big potty and lo and behold, she tee-tees on the little potty! (Sorry if that is TMI, but when you have kids, it's all over in the TMI dept. I promise not to discuss really gross things with you. If you're just learning that people tee-tee on potties, you need to be reading something more scientific than my blog.) So big girl panties it is, BigM!

So I plan to sit her on the potty every 30 mins. At 28:39, the first accident occurs. I'm not phased. So I plan to sit her on the potty every 20 mins. At 17:42, the second accident occurs. I'm still not phased. So I plan to sit her on the potty every 15 mins, we sit. Nothing. We get up. We sit again. Nothing. We get up. We sit again. Still nothing and now it's time for lunch (that sit/nothing/get up thing happened a few more times but I figured you get the idea.) My uncle stops by so I let BigM run around outside with Sassy in nothing but her panties and a t-shirt- call me a redneck if you want to. I stand by my decision, and I'm no dummy, if she's outside, she's not peeing on my floor. After a good 20 minutes, she comes back inside and I tell her she HAS to sit on the potty RIGHT NOW. She's game, so we go back and she sits. Hello, little poop! Oh, and I discover wet panties. She must have done that outside.

Diaper time, because it's Quiet time. But not for long. "Mommy, Daddy, I go poo-poo in my diaper (liar), I want to sit on my paaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhtttttttteeeeeeeeeeee." Fine. We're back to the every 15 minute deal. After still another accident, I tell her she can have a piece of candy if she goes tee-tee on her potty and send DM in search of said candy. (I have forgotten to mention she only has one more sticker to go to get an ice cream treat!) So DM comes back with M&Ms (aka NMMs.) We don't do fast food, we don't do candy, so this is a big deal. BigM gets her first taste of the m&ms and she is psyched! "Tan I haf anodder one?" I explain the deal, you have to tee-tee on the potty to get another piece of candy.

What do you know, that little sneak sits down, tee-tees like she's been doing it her whole life and says, "I'd wike my tandy now, Mommy." And of course she gets her sticker so we're off to get ice cream! With sprinkles and eyes. Yum, yum!

Quiet as a Mouse

I really do live in "the Mouse House."

I'm pretty upset about it. One morning last week, I heard something scratching around in my closet, but I refused to admit I really heard anything (if you remember from my Godzilla the spider experience, I'm a very girly girl.) After all my mice go to sleep, I stay up awhile and staighten up a little around this mouse house. Well, a few nights ago, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It *looked* like it *could* have been a mouse but I sometimes see things out of the corner of my eye anyway, and it was really late- after midnight. (Please don't think I'm weird because of that. There are many more valid reasons to question my normal-ness.) So I sat there, mildly petrified, for a minute before I decided it was my imagination. Which is very vivid. (That must be where BigM gets it.)

This morning, I took BigM downstairs to wake Sassy up to tell her she tee-teed in the potty right after she woke up (are you as excited as me?) We head back upstairs to get breakfast, and I step into the kitchen and apparently disturb the real little mouse that lives in my house! He (it?) darted quick as a bunny under the dishwasher. We set up a trap and you better believe that is not the kind of mouse that is allowed in my house. I'll let you know if (when!) we catch him.

Don't be a Chicken

On my way home from spin class, I called Sassy to tell her I was coming home. She suggested I stop by KFC for some fried chicken to go with the yummy array of veggies she had planned for supper. (Don't you know I love having someone cook for us?) We debated back and forth about exactly what to get and decided we needed at least 1 breast, 2 legs and a large coleslaw. And no biscuits (yes, we really said that. We're both trying to get rid of a little extra weight; mine is thanks to LM.)

In general, I rarely frequent fast food restuarants, so I parked my car and headed inside just because I didn't want to hold up the line at the drive thru while I figured out the best deal. I saw that a 6 piece bucket of chicken was $8.99 and a large coleslaw was $2.99. That's what I want, I'm sure of it. I place my order and the cashier says, "You can get the meal with 3 biscuits for $11.79." Sign me up, it's cheaper that way and you're going to toss in a few biscuits?

As she is about to scan my card, the manager walks by and says, "You can get the 7 piece meal for $9.99." Same exact thing I originally ordered, plus 3 biscuits and another piece of chicken, for $2 cheaper. What in the world? No wonder we have an obesity epidemic in this country. They're practically giving away fattening food and charging less for it!

Oh but you know I'm going to have a biscuit with my supper. I might have 2.

Oops, I Did It Again

It was another big night at the Mouse House:

Sassy is here helping me with my mice and it was blaff (bath) time. BigM was sitting at the table as Sassy was cleaning up the dishes and she tooted (BigM, not Sassy)... so Sassy asked her if she needed to go potty. By this point, I had taken LM to another room in the house so when BigM said, "Yes, I need to go potty" I jokingly yelled, "Liar!" As I said, we've been down this road many times. So Sassy sets her up, hands her a book and heads back to the kitchen. All of the sudden, Big M shouts, "I did it, I went poo-poo in my potty." Sure you did. I'll believe it when I see it. (Amazing how well that phrase applies here.)

Well, when I'm wrong I'll admit it. (DM may disagree with that statement.) What do I find in the potty but another little pile of poo and a very happy BigM. I, of course, get super excited jumping up and down, call in Sassy and we all freak out together. We are all jumping and dancing and all of the sudden we're doing "Ring around the Rosy?"

Sassy asks BigM if she needs to go some more and BigM sits back down on the potty. About 45 seconds later, we hear this incredulous little voice say, "Wook Mommy, I tee-teed too! Is in my potty!"

It may have all been an accident, but I think we're one teeny step closer to panties. At least I hope we are...

I promise my next post will not refer to poop in any way, shape or form.

Oh, Poo!

It's a big day in the Mouse House.

We've been trying to get BigM to use the potty for a few months now. She turned 2 back in April, but with the impending arrival of LM, we decided to forgo the training until after things setttled down and we got into the routine of having a newborn around.

DM got the big idea that it was time to train when LM was only 2 weeks old. His sister (Choo-choo) had come to visit, so I agreed to give it a try. After BigM tee-teed on the floor twice in less than an hour, I was done.

Tee-tee on the floor + newborn baby = Unhappy MM

So needless to say, we've been encouraging but not pushing with the whole potty deal. We've had a few fruitless attempts, and most of the time BigM tells me repeatedly while sitting on her little potty, "I'm Abigail!" (In reference to our good friend who is already using the potty like a good little mouse should!) Not a drop of tee-tee or a bit of poo has graced the little seat in our hall bathroom.

This morning, as we were getting ready for school, I could tell BigM was struggling to poo (she will just die if she reads this when she's older!) so I suggested she sit on the potty and try. Amazingly, she agreed- but I wasn't getting my hopes up. We'd been down that road a few times too many. I continued to get things ready to go and all of the sudden, I hear her shout, "Mommy, I did it!" I yell back a half-hearted, "You did? Well, let me come see!" (BigM has cried "poo" too many times for me to believe her until I see it with my own eyes.) But when I arrive in the bathroom, what do I see, but a big poo sitting in her potty. Woo-hoo! Success! Don't you know I freaked out!

We, of course, called DM, Sassy, Lolli (DM's mommy), Pop (DM's daddy) at work and thought about leaving a message for Choo-choo. We were late for school, but it's not every day that your BigM poops in the potty. Oh wait, well, I am hoping it WILL be every day that BigM poops in the potty...

I have a confession to make. I love watching Jon and Kate + 8, mostly because she reminds me that if she can do it with 8 kids (and a camera crew) then I can do it with my 2. On one episode, they were potty training "little kids" and one of them pooped in the potty... and Kate said she always takes a picture of the proud child with his or her proud little poop. *I did that.* Poor BigM, she really will be embarrassed when she gets older. But she won't be going to college in diapers...

Something seems fishy...

BigM makes me laugh everyday. Today was no exception, and when LM is older, I will have to ask her to forgive me for letting BigM torment her- it's always with love but it's hard to be "soft and gentle" when you're two.

This morning, I had strapped LM into her carrier as we were running out the door for an appointment, and I ran out of the kitchen to grab something- when I returned, BigM was squeezing LM's cheeks, saying, "Little Mouse, you're a fish!" While it was hilarous, I had to make her stop. LM's face was turning red. Poor little mouse!

Later this afternoon, out of the blue, BigM said, "Mommy I want to make Little Mouse a fish." It took me a minute to figure out what she meant, but okay, so I let her and even snapped a few photos. Which I emailed out to all our family. It was so incredibly funny!

While I may have knocked myself out of the running for "Mother of the Year," I have a priceless memory (with pictures to prove it!)

Big Girls Don't Cry

DM is a student. MM is a SAHM. DM's schooling requires him to leave the Mouse House for 2 weeks at a time, 3 times during his senior year (which is now- see the counter to your right? You can click on the link and see exactly when he will be accepting his diploma. Can you tell we're a little bit excited?) He will be gone for the next 2 weeks, completing the second of the 3 externships, so the past 24 hours have been a scramble trying to get him packed- including a cooler's worth of food, clothes, all his gear, etc, etc, etc. Squeeze in church attendance and my weekly Sunday grocery shopping and it was a hectic day, to say the least.

BigM had a BM (haha) during "Quiet Time" so she of course had to tell us all about it and decided she needed to sit on the potty for 30 minutes afterwards. We're encouraging, but not pushing the potty thing so we let her sit with a few books while we scurried around the house like, well, mice. Needless to say, skipping naptime is not a positive thing for BigM. She was in a lovely mood: argumentative, sassy, grumpy... definitely not her normal sunny personality. I had about had it before DM even left at 3:30 and to compound it all, I had forgotten that the movie we rented on Friday was due back at noon today (I remembered at 5:37.) So I loaded up the mice so we wouldn't have an astronomical late fee and to check out a total chick flick (27 Dresses, if you're wondering which one) since I never get to do that. By the time we got home, BigM was just really showing her stuff so during dinner, I kept warning her that her antics were hurting MM's feelings and MM was going to cry... well, she pushed a little too hard and I couldn't hold back the tears.

I don't think she's ever seen a grown-up mouse cry. Her sweet (I can say that now, she's been in bed for 4 1/2 hours) little eyes filled up with tears too and she jumped out of her chair and ran over to me, just sobbing. I, of course, assured her that I loved her no matter what and that sometimes grown up mice get sad too (especially when little mice act like little monsters. I'm kidding! I didn't tell her that!) We both ended up giggling but that didn't stop her from "being a bad listener" a few more times before she finally crashed.

As angry as she makes me- and as frustrating as it can be wandering through the minefield of the "terrible twos," just the thought of her getting bigger makes me want to tear up all over again. I never want my mice to grow up!

My hero...

(Pretend I posted this on August 31, 2008, 'cause that's when it happened.)

Today while we were riding home from church, DM and I were talking with BigM and while I forget exactly how it came up, DM said, "Big Mouse, sometimes I want to be just like you."

BigM responded, "You want to be a little girl just like me?"

DM (after he cracked up) replied, "No honey, I don't want to be a little girl, I just meant you do a lot of things and you act in certain ways so that makes me want to be like you. You are sweet, so that makes me want to be sweet, too. Do you understand?"


After pondering that for a second, she said, "Yes, Daddy. You want to be a little girl sometimes?"

The Itsy-bitsy Spider

This morning I was headed downstairs to start a load of laundry, and at the bottom of the steps, I saw a spider so big, its’ feet were in 2 different zip codes. It was just sitting there, but as any girly-girl knows, that spider had mapped out a plan of attack on how to come get me, my little mice and all the food in my pantry.

Of course DM was at school, so I was left to fend for myself against Godzilla the spider. But there was NO WAY I was going to swat that thing with a newspaper or even try and trap it under something… and you can better believe I was not about to just leave it. (Because we all know it would have made its’ spidery way up the stairs, down the hall and into my bedroom and pounced on me in my sleep!)

I pull up my big girl panties and head to the garage for the Wasp and Hornet spray. I mean, they all have lots of legs, it’s got to work, right? Godzilla doesn’t have a chance against me, armed with my spray. I put my game face on and slink silently down the stairs. I’m sure he hasn’t spotted me so I get ready, aim and FIRE! I hit him on the first try with a stream of toxic gas. He darts towards me, seemingly unfazed by my battle tactics. I scream like a little girl and jump up two steps and he settles under the lip of the bottom step. (I told you he was after me…)

But knowing I have to save my precious mice from the ferocious predator, I take a leap onto the floor, landing well past the spider (I should have been on the long jump team in high school!) I regroup, line up my target and “pssssssssssshhhhhhhhh.” Bullseye! I got him! He’s slowly crawling towards me as his spidery legs are getting slower and starting to curl up, this guy’s a fighter! One more spray and he’s a goner.

Poor guy, if he had only been a little smaller, I would have scooped him up in the dustpan and set him outside my back door.

The Greatest of these is Love

I could not love my little mice any more. Every day they both amaze me.

LM is quite serious and nothing phases her. She's just quiet and very observant- twice today, I completely forgot she was even with me. (Don't worry, I didn't leave her anywhere.) But if you pay her the slightest bit of attention, her face lights up with a 100-watt smile and she's cooing and laughing, and you are the center of her world. (Doesn't matter who you are, MM and the guy bagging my groceries get the same reaction. Should I be jealous? Nah...) She is such a sweet little soul and the best surprise I've ever received. Sometimes the best things in life are those you didn't expect. Every day she is with me is a miracle, as she reveals a little more about herself and I really enjoy just getting to know her.

BigM is the opposite of serious- and everything is a new and exciting adventure. She is anything but quiet, but she doesn't miss a thing either. And even if I wanted to forget she was there, her constant and quirky chatter reminds me she's never too far for a hug and a kiss. She is stubborn and loving. She tests me daily (hourly?!?) I could not be more proud of the little girl she has become, but I also feel a sense of loss that she is no longer a baby. Tonight as I was putting her to bed, she impulsively grabbed me for a hug and said, "I love you, Mama."

Those are the kind of moments I live for. A few nights ago, we were rocking in the rocking chair before bed, and I was thinking she's getting a little too big for this (size wise, really, she's the tallest 2yo I've ever seen...) and at the same time thinking I'd cuddle her when she's 13, 23 or 33 if she'd let me. I asked her for a hug, saying, "Some day you won't want to hug me." She looked up at me with these big eyes, as if I had told her there was no more ice cream on earth. She just couldn't fathom that possibility. What age is it that your children start to realize you're not perfect, that you're a human and you do make mistakes? I really don't want to know.

What I do know is I am so blessed and so thankful that I am in a position where I can stay home with my little mice. I get to cherish every smile, every hug and even every "time out." Despite the chaos and the craziness and the fact that it's been more than 2 years since I went potty by myself, there is no place on earth I'd rather be than right here, right now.

Oh what a night...

Late September...

I'm such a dork.

Anyway, yesterday could have been one of the most trying days of my life. It started out much like any other day, I got the mice up- we watched the Wiggles, got dressed, ater breakfast and loaded up the car to take BigM to preschool. We normally leave early and I take the kids jogging but yesterday was Picture Day, so I dressed BigM up in her finest mousy clothes and decided to forgo the jogging until after I dropped her off.

Well, about that time LM wanted to eat (still right on schedule, mind you) so we headed to the "nervous room" (as BigM calls the nursing room at our church) and settled in. I had a big morning of cleaning and "getting things done", and I was fired up and ready to go (after my short, quiet little 3 mile jog, of course. I live for my morning jog, by the way.) It's a lot easier without BigM pointing at every single thing we pass and asking, "Mommy, what's that?" (Your obvious answers include: the road, a rock, a tree, a person, her shoe, a squirrel, a piece of trash, a bench, a leaf, the sky...)

So back to the subject at hand. My phone starts ringing and I see it's DM. DM is a dental student and his patient canceled, so he wanted to know if I could find someone to watch LM to let him clean my teeth. Done. (I'm such a good wife!) I get my teeth cleaned, 12 x-rays, 8 sealents, a head & neck exam and a lecture about how I don't floss enough, oh and a new toothbrush.

When I pick up LM, it's time for her to eat again and we're headed back to the nervous room at church. We get BigM and I see her finest mousy clothes are covered in yogurt, dirt and something blue... and there is a note in her bag that says, "Don't forget Thursday is Picture Day!" (I just looked at her calendar and it DOES say Picture Day was yesterday, so I'm not suffering totally from Mommy Brain.) We head home (on the way, BigM takes off her shoe and dumps sand all over the floor of my car and in her carseat) and start a load of laundry (with my workout pants) bc I'm teaching a spin class that night at 5:15. BigM does not nap (and goes poo for the 4th time that day...) so we do a little project and load up the car a little early so we can stop for gas on the way there. I'm down to 1/14,230,989,507,289,463 of a tank and frankly, a little worried that I'm not going to make it there. I pass the close station where gas is $.20 more expensive than the place I usually stop. Not happening. So I pass another station and all the pumps are bagged off. This does not look good. I get to my regular station and see a parking attendant lining cones up at the entrances and starting to bag off the pumps there too. G-rrrr-eeee-aaaaaaaa-ttt... so I keep heading towards the gym. I pass 3 more gas stations and not a one has gas. We'll just worry about that later, I guessed.

I pull into the parking lot (which is directly across from DM's school) so he can meet me to grab the girls. It's 4:57 and I am at least 10 mins early. At this point, BigM is distraught- why, you ask. Well when you're 2, anything from MM not rolling down your window to having to stay in your carseat while you wait for your DM can cause utter chaos and fire-engine wailing tears. As I'm watching the minutes roll by (it's now 5:08), I'm listening to the noise in my backseat getting louder. 5:15 comes and goes, then 5:20 and finally at 5:23 I get DM on the phone. He's sprinting from clinic to my car so as soon as he's in view, I jump out and sprint into my class. It's only a full 15 mins after it was supposed to start... oh, well, right? What can you do?

DM and I had made plans to eat a quick dinner after my class and before his weekly Bible Study, so I head back to the parking lot. BigM has calmed down considerably and LM is hanging in the stroller. Seems to be a pretty good scenario. We even watch a rousing rendition of "Ring-around-the-Rosy" in the grass, complete with a dramatic "we all fall down!" Since class started late, I finished it late and we have 30 mins to get gas, eat and get back to DM's car so he can be at Bible Study by 7. We head to the closest station, praying the whole time that the fumes in my car will get us there. Same old story, bagged pumps. Head down the road to the next 2 stations. No gas anywhere. BigM and LM are both getting hungry, so both they decide to tell us all about it- BigM by throwing a full blown tantrum and LM by screaming incessantly (but who can blame her, crying is all she knows how to do.) We finally drive 15 miles down the road to the closest truck stop and while there is a 6 car line, they do have gas. And a Wendy's.

After getting gas, we drive thru and I try to be a good MM and instead of fries, I get BigM a yogurt tube which was a good idea bc she said, "Mommy, I so cited!" At this point it's 6:54 and we're headed back to where we came from for me to drop DM off at Bible Study. The phone calls start rolling in, "Dude, where are you?" "Hey, man, you coming tonight?" I mean, it's 7:06 for goodness sake. (LM is still wailing, I might add. BigM is surprisingly quiet, but give that girl a cheeseburger and she's happy. She takes after her mother.) We roll into the driveway and DM jumps out and I jump out to grab LM and let her nurse, in the car in the driveway of a well traveled neighborhood. I do have incredibly sweaty boobs (please don't call those people to come take my kids) but she's finally satisfied.

I had ignored a call from my mom when I was trying to get out the door (please don't be mad, Mom, I just didn't have time to talk) so I called her back and we're chatting away when all of the sudden, I hear "pswwwwww" and feel something sprinkle my arm. BigM has taken a huge sip of yogurt and decided to spit it all over me, herself, her carseat, the back of the front seats and the majority of the back of the car. In my house, spitting is taboo. Some people think it's cute, but I am not one of those people. So I put the phone down, say in my very sternest voice, "BIG MOUSE, NO SPITTING" (while trying not to laugh, bc at this point, everything has become comical.) I pick the phone back up and my mother (who firmly believes her grandchildren should be allowed to run around like wild indians and show no respect to authority) says to me, "So now you won't even let her sit down?" Luckily, we both got a good laugh out of that.

It's time to head home and as I pull into the carport, I see BigM has fallen asleep with her yogurt tube in her mouth. It's too hilarious for words, so I whip out the camera phone but her arm falls down before I can take the picture. (I won't lie, I tried to set her arm back up a few times but it kept falling down.) So I get both sleeping girls out of the car and headed to the bath. (There is no way they're both not getting hosed down.) The rest of the evening was completely uneventful and despite her 9 1/2 minute nap in the car, BigM went straight to bed. I only wish I could have done the same.

Mr. Wizard

I love the fact that BigM enjoys fishing with her daddy. We have a pond behind our house and they go out together maybe twice a month- but BigM just loves spending that time with DM. Yesterday was "fishin day" and they had a blast. BigM said, "I so 'cited, Daddy," and DM said it made his day. It would have made mine too.

So after it was all said and done, BigM came running inside with something in her hand... yelling, "Wook Mommy, I haf a wizard!" Not being an animal person, I look at DM completely alarmed until I realize he has given her some bait that only *looks* like a lizard (thank goodness.) While I'm fixin supper (even though I am in the deep south, that is the only appropriate use of the word fixin'- I don't think I've ever been "fixin'" to do anything) BigM is tending to her wizard: "Tome on, wizard, you need to eat supper."

And, "I need to give you a bahff, wizard."

Or (my personal favorite,) "Want to sweep in my bed, wizard?"

Um, no, there will be no wizard sleeping in anyone's bed, real or pretend. Mr. Wizard spent the night on the bookshelf.

LOL

LM giggled for the first time today. She also took her first nap in her crib this morning. I just don't want to forget.

Here, Kitty-Kitty

I originally thought this blog was going to be about mice, but apparently, any animal is up for grabs. This collection of stories is in response to a friend's question about keeping her cat out of her newborn's crib, so it does have some mousy relevance.

So if you hadn't guessed from my enthusiasm about our rabbits, I'm not exactly an animal person. And I have to admit (this will upset some of you) that I'm especially not a cat person. I don't have anything against other people's felines, I just agree totally with my friend, Megan who firmly believes, "If a cat was big enough it would eat you." But the great thing in this world is we can disagree and still be friends. I don't have to like cats, we can all parent differently and it really doesn't matter if coke is better than diet coke if you're drinking the one you like.

So back to my love/hate relationship with cats. (Why can’t I stay on topic?) I got bitten by a cat on my honeymoon. Really. On a sweet potato farm in the smack dab middle of St. Lucia, a cat bit me. We were hiking towards the rainforest and I saw the cat over 100 yards away and I mentioned they weren’t my favorite animal and out of nowhere, it runs over to us and bites…me. So I consider myself very lucky that I am here to tell you about my mice. (Although nothing happened other than I had a small puncture wound on my leg, and it probably sounds a lot worse than it really was.)

As I mentioned before, our first house was a cute little rental on an 800 acre farm. Sassy Mouse (my mom) would disagree that it was cute. Anyway, our landlord’s mother lived in the house before we did and the only thing she left there was a lot of dust and her black cat, Shadow. Shadow lived in the house alone for a few months before we did, so as it was understood by the cat, the house was not ours, it belonged to her. Shadow did not like being evicted so she would patiently hide in the bushes until you came home and the second you opened the door, she would dart into the house and curl up on your bed. We nicknamed her "Satan," because if you came within a 3 foot radius of her, she would hiss and spit at you. If you got any closer (maybe to move her off the bed, heaven forbid you try to get her out of your/her house) you took a very good chance that she would scratch the fool out of your arm. Poor DM got bitten more times than you can count and I probably shouldn't tell you how many times DM kicked her, just because you are probably on the phone with the PETA people right now... but our landlord told him to.

After about a year of marriage, we decided to buy a house of our own and one of the most exciting things to me was moving into a cat free neighborhood. Not the case- in fact, it would not be a stretch to say our new neighborhood was infested with cats. While I’m sure this was not entirely true, all the cats were related- they all looked exactly the same. Two of them belonged to our neighbors across the street and one lived directly next door. And then there was “the one with the really small head,” who was the neighborhood bully cat and would literally beat up all the other cats. Almost nightly, there was a catfight outside our bedroom window. Now that’s a noise you don’t want to fall asleep to. One of (or all four of?) the cats must have been in cahoots with Sha… I mean, Satan because it (they?) regularly tried to sneak into our house. What is with cats wanting to sleep on my bed?!?!?!?

I have to mention at this point that DM is a pretty noisy sleeper. One weekend, DM and I went out of town and went straight to bed when we got home on Sunday. Around 4am, I heard this faint squeaking noise, but didn’t really think too much about it because I just assumed it was DM. It continued and I looked over at him and he was sound asleep. The noise kept getting louder and it began to sound a little more like a cat. I still thought it was DM, so I nudged him and he woke up to the sound of a very distinct, “Meow.” Meaning:

1. there was a cat spending the night in our house
2. that had been there since we had left 3 days earlier.

The only good news in this scenario is that I never found any evidence of kitty going to the bathroom in my house. There are no cats living in our current neighborhood, and I couldn't be happier.

There were 2 in the bed and the little one said...

So... LM just rolled over, three times! And here I thought she was boring. I put her on her tummy and she was pushing up on her arms, and she just flipped right over. So I wasn't impressed, I mean, I helped her about 60% of the way on that one. So I put her back on her tummy but she was still propped up, and she did it again! Still not overly impressed- until I laid her flat on her stomach- she pushed herself up and next thing I know she's laying flat on her back! I think I'm the mother of the women's all-around Gold Medalist in 2024...

The Sweetest Thing

This morning, while I was watching the Wiggles with BigM (as we do every day,) she walked over to me and said, "Mama, tan I sit in yor wap?"

MM: "Of course you can, sweetheart."
BigM: "Tank you, Mama. I so proud uf you."
MM: "That's sweet, why are you proud of me?"
BigM: "Because I just wuv you."

Is there anything better?

Help, Not Just Any-bunny...

So I promised to finish the story about GB getting lost on the farm. Settle in.

Picture it: I'm wearing pajamas, my winter coat and some kind of inappropriate footwear (like I said, I'm not the best with details.) It's pitch black dark outside and we are looking for a small but very fast little animal. The expression is "quick like a bunny" for a reason.

For approximately 45 minutes, we walk around shining our almost dead single beam flashlight looking under anything we can think to look under. Another fact about bunnies is they like to sit beneath things. Finally, I decide that it's time for GB to learn about life as an undomesticated pet, when out of the corner of my eye, I see something white and gray dart under the shed behind our house. GB has been spotted! Again, using your imagination, picture a shed 15' x 15' raised about 9" off the ground. So it's too small for people to crawl under, but just right for a cute little rabbit (although if you still think she's cute at this point, we need to discuss if we can still be friends.) One side of the shed backs up to a fence and another one is closed off by a garden wall, so luckily we're dealing with only 2 escape routes. DM starts calling to GB as if she were a puppy dog- and as if she listened and responded to voice commands. I went inside and got a broom, which I used to coax her towards the edge of the shed. She would get within 8 inches of grabbing distance (just close enough to be annoying,) but when one of us would reach under the shed, she would dart back to the corner. After another 45 minutes of this business, DM finally suggested, "Why don't we get a carrot and tie it to the end of the broom and maybe she will come get it?" Can you hear me snorting with laughter now, even as I am remembering him saying that? But (now you will be snorting with laughter) we tried it because at that point, what did we have to lose?

2 1/2 hours have passed since DM discovered GB went out exploring on the farm. It is now after 1 in the morning, and I have to get up and be functional at work in mere hours, so I announce I've had it and I don't give a flip what happens to that waskily wabbit when all of the sudden, GB takes off into the yard. I'm hot on her tail, and close in with a tackle that would make even the greatest linebacker jealous. Victory is mine! GB is safely returned to her warm, cozy hutch and I am off to my warm, cozy bed.

Sometime soon, I'll have to tell you about our pet chickens.

ABC, Easy as 1-2-3

Big Mouse (aka BigM- I cannot refer to my child as "BM") started preschool today. Well, I think it's preschool, she's 2 and it's a Mother's Day Out program at our church. Today started out like any other day, we got up and watched the Wiggles, got dressed and ate breakfast. But instead of going for a walk, we went out to the front porch and took a picture- I am totally "that mom." There really isn't much of a story here, but I just want to be able to remember "today." It's not the first time I have left her, she was in daycare for the first 18 months of her life, but for some reason this feels different. I have mixed emotions, as I am very excited to have some time to spend alone with Little Mouse (LM) and to actually have the opportunity to get housework done (not promising it will happen!) But at the same time, I am realizing my first "little mouse" is growing up, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Who is?

The highlight of the morning occured I opened the refrigerator to show BigM her ballerina hippopatomus lunchbox (who designs this stuff?) and she started giggling and couldn't stop.

BigM didn't even notice when I left her this morning. I suppose I should be happy that she is independent and excited about new experiences, but there is a teeny-tiny part of me that kind of wishes she would have pitched a hysterical fit like some of her classmates. Well, maybe not, but I can't wait for it to be 1:00. I may be the one with tears streaming down my face when we see each other in the pick-up line.

Help, I Need Some-bunny...

Before we go any further, I need to tell you about our first "children."

DM and I had been married for about 2 months, living in Po-dunk, USA renting a house from a farmer who lived on 800 acres. We knew we didn’t want kids right away and loosely discussed getting some pets but I was working 50 – 60 hours a week and DM was in school full time, studying during his free time. I (logically?) didn’t think it would be fair to any animal (other than a fish, and who wants a goldfish over the age of 7) so I was under the impression we decided together that the timing wasn’t right. DM would mention from time to time that he would like for us to get a pair of rabbits and they could live on our back porch. Fast forward 3 months, we made a trip to the “big city” (which was over an hour away) and one of our errands was to pick up some pantyhose. He agreed to go with me so I said something like, “Since you are being so nice to do this with me, is there anywhere you want me to go with you?” He gets a little boy at Christmas look on his face and says, “We can go get some pet rabbits at the pet store!” (I meant Home Depot, Tractor Supply Company, etc.) My eyes must have about popped out of my head and I said, “We don’t have a rabbit cage or food or anything we need to have pet rabbits, and I thought we said that we didn’t need any pets right away.” His response? “Look in the back.” Yes, mouse followers, there was a rabbit hutch in the back of our SUV. How did I miss that? So he says in a sad little voice, “We don’t have to get the rabbits.” Yeah, right. So we head to the pet store and get 2 dutch bunnies, a black and white one and a gray and white one that we named Black Bunny and Gray Bunny. We’re a very creative family.

BB and GB become permanent residents in our house. (Who needed that stupid hutch anyway?) Did you know bunny pee is neon orange? And if you have a light colored couch, it’s pretty impossible to get out? And they poop little balls in corners and sometimes when they run they leave a poop trail wherever they go? And if you try to trap them in a baby gate, they will chew their way through it and if you put towels over the part they can chew, they will take a running start and jump over it? I did not know any of that, but I do now. Who says you can't learn something new every day?

So BB and GB finally get banished to the back porch in the hutch but DM would let them out to roam on the porch. Here’s where the story gets interesting. (You’re still reading?) If you didn’t shut the screen door exactly in the right way, it would leave a tiny gap. So one night around 11pm, DM comes rushing in the bedroom and says, “Gray Bunny is gone. The screen door was open. We have to find her.” Remember, we live on an 800 acre farm. Our landlord is a huge packrat and he collects broken tractors and old farm equipment, has a few sheds full of (what I would call junk but I’m sure it’s very important) stuff, there is a pack of wild dogs that roam the property and it’s the middle of the night. I forgot to mention that the rabbits don’t like us very much and they run away from us whenever they see us. And I have to be at work in the morning. He makes me get up out of bed (so I’m still wearing my pjs), there is no moon and we have an almost dead single beam flashlight. Oh, and it's January, so it's not exactly sunbathing weather.

I want you to continue to read my blog, so I’m going to stop here for now. (And I'm sure there is a word limit somewhere on here.) I promise I won’t leave you hanging.

Let's start at the beginning

Obviously, my two mice didn't magically appear out of nowhere.

They do have a father, and I am married to him and we are just the perfect little textbook all-American couple. All we are missing is the picket fence in our front yard, mostly because we don't own the house we are currently living in. (We do own a house that does have a white picket fence in the front yard... sorry... as you will learn if you follow this blog, I tend to digress, a lot.)

I met Daddy Mouse on a blind date. This is the kind of story people write books about (another dream of mine, to write a novel. BTW, you're reading the first draft.) Okay, try to follow this. My best friend (BFF) from high school attended my rival college and she is now married to DM (Daddy Mouse)'s best friend from college. My college was playing a huge away game, but being a responsible student and having a lot of schoolwork due at the beginning of the week, I called BFF and asked if I could come visit her instead of going to the game with all my sorority sisters. The one stipulation was she set me up with one of her boyfriend's friends because from previous experience, I did not want to be the third wheel, again. She immediately said, "I know exactly who I'm going to set you up with, but don't worry he's not your type." Thank goodness, I had just ended a no-where relationship and wanted nothing to do with guys. In this case, I just wanted someone to talk to other than the two love birds.

DM was handsome enough, he was a nice guy and we had a lot to talk about. We both went into it thinking nothing would come out of the date so that made it a lot easier, I imagine. But I knew on that date I was going to marry him. I'm sure now you're wondering why I thought I was Madam Cleo all of the sudden. After the game, we were in the fraternity house with BFF and BFF's BF and we all decided to watch a movie. I'm notorious for falling asleep during movies before the opening credits are over. True to form, I was asleep within the first 10 minutes. And because I thought I'd never see DM again I did something I would never do under normal circumstances. I fell asleep with my head on his shoulder- how very forward of me! (You would agree if you knew me better.) So the movie ends, I sit up and so does DM. He has been leaning on a wooden post and there is a 5 inch nail sticking out of it. They say with true love, you just know, and at that moment, I just knew.

My little mice

Everyone has a nickname, right? At least one? Some you received because you really deserved them but most of the times, a nickname derives because someone noticed something about you that was unique and special. (Or maybe it was that there were 2 of you with the same first name in your kindergarten class and they had to figure out some way to tell you apart...)

Two years, a few months and a couple of days ago (so I'm not good with details) someone unique and special came into my life and changed it for the better. She was my first "little mouse," and while she outgrew that nickname after about 8 months, it was the first of many things she passed down to her little sister.

I hope this blog will serve to chronicle the lives and times of my precious little princesses (and someday their little brother?) So as most good fairy tales begin...

"Once Upon A Time..."