Ole, Ole, Ole Ole, Ole, Ole.

BigM had soccer practice tonight, and her team scrimmaged another team that was practicing.

She scored her first goal. She and DM have called everyone we know to tell them.

This is a huge step up from last year, when she spent the majority of the games doing yoga poses at the midfield line.

My kid is hilarious: It's about Time Edition

I have been receiving calls and emails because I haven't updated the blog recently. I'd like you to take that up with my children, because they haven't been funny in quite awhile. Until today, so you're in luck.

We listen to the same kid's cd in the car, so even LM has all 51 songs pretty much memorized. Which is hilarious because according to LM:

"Joshua fought the battle of Jericho... and the walls bane chuggaling down."

Don't you dare try to correct her, because she will argue you to the death. As I tell BigM at least 29 times a day, "Let's not argue with the two year old."

And speaking of BigM... I was emptying her backpack before school and came across this little book of pictures she had colored and described for her teacher. You may not be able to read this, but it says, "Me inside my house." Our conversation went a bit like this:

"This is 'Me inside my house.'"

What are you doing inside your house?

"Nothing. Just hanging out. Chillin'."

Chillin'? (raised eyebrows- where does a four year old hear the term, "chillin'?")

"Yeah, just chillin'. Because it's wintertime."

(I was actually hoping she'd tell me where we have rainbow-striped walls in our house, but her description was much much better.)

Headbanging

It was bound to happen sooner or later.


BigM fell off a chair and split open the back of her head. It's a teensy split, but it bled a whole bunch nonetheless. (Sass, G-Pops- relax, this was last Thursday and she most certainly is fine. Her dad is a doctor, don't forget.) But I didn't realize how serious it was until I was getting her up off the floor after consoling, cuddling and reminding of what goes in chairs (bottoms)- and saw her back covered in blood.

I watched enough Grey's Anatomy before Addison left for Private Practice to know that her eyes being slightly dialated could mean she had a concussion (she doesn't) and that the fact that the wound was not spurting blood meant we could skip the ER visit until DM got home from work (which was going to be within 20 minutes.) Had it been lunchtime, I'd have packed us up and headed in. Upon his arrival, he assessed the damage and confirmed my diagnosis that she did not need stiches.

Friday morning when she woke up, the first thing I asked her was, "How does your head feel?"

She pondered the question and very deliberately said, "It only hurts if I yawn."

I suggested that maybe she should do her best not to yawn and she rolled her eyes and said, "I have to do what my brain tells me to do, Mom."

I feel confident in ruling out brain damage as a possible side effect from her injury.

Suck it up, part 2

Day 2, no paci.

She hasn't minded one bit and we're going to wrap them up and give them to our L&D friend to give to the new babies.

Cause every newborn just out of the womb needs a used paci.

Once Upon a Dream, Part Deux

A few nights ago, BigM woke in the middle of the night because she had a nightmare.

I ran up the stairs to comfort her, because that's what moms do. (I also ran up there quickly to comfort her so she wouldn't wake her sister up.)

I was lying in the bed with her all snuggled up next to me and I whispered, "Do you want to tell me what happened in your nightmare?"

She began to tell the tale.

"I was standing with my magic wand, and T was helping me kill all the bogs and one jumped on me, and Daddy grabbed it off of me and he saved me."

{heart melting} "He did? Don't you feel so safe knowing that Daddy will protect you even in your dreams?"

"Yeah, he used a really mean voice and he yelled, 'GET OFF OF HER!' and he saved me."

He is the most awesome Daddy ever.

She fell back asleep almost instantly, so I headed back to my bed. I almost woke DM to tell him he's a hero, but I didn't because I am the most awesome wife ever.

Suck it Up

Close your windows, lock your doors, the Apocolypse is coming. Seriously, stand back. Lightning is about to strike.

I've been telling LM for a few weeks now that when she turns three (which won't be until June), she won't be able to sleep with her paci anymore. She has fought me to the core, telling me, "My need it. My WILL sleep wif my paci." Sometimes, she'll wake around 4 and cry out, and I'll have to get my lazy tail out of my cozy bed and trek upstairs because she can't find the dang thing. It's almost always between the mattress and the bedrail, thankfully. Once it's securely in her mouth, she goes back to bed while I'm left to lie there wide awake until the alarm goes off.

Tonight after brushing teeth and before story, I was looking for it and it was nowhere to be found. She knows it must stay in her bed, and the only time she's allowed to have it is when she's sleeping. I asked her where it was and she said matter-a-factly, "My not need my paci. My big girl. My not sleep wif dat anymore."

Say what?

Seriously? You're going to go to bed without your paci?

"My big girl. My not need it. Tomorrow, we get dem all and wrap them up for the baby." (I've been telling her that the "baby" needs the pacis. Now I have to find a baby she can give them to, preferably a girl since most of them are pink. No, the baby in question is not currently residing in my uterus.)

I told her if she really slept the whole night without it, she could have marshmallows for breakfast. (I really said that. And I really meant it. If she'll give up her paci, she can have a pony. And I might even let her wear her princess dress to school. Don't tell her I said that.)

I gave hugs and kisses to my best girls, turned out the light, tucked them in and walked downstairs. It's been over 3 hours and I haven't heard a peep out of either of them.

I should probably write a book on how I got her to give up her paci so easily. I'd be a bazillionaire. Now I just have to figure out what I did.

The Magician

It's only been 22 months since we moved in this house, and while we still haven't finished unpacking, we finally, finally got gas logs for our fireplace. Cozy, isn't it?

Since we like to pretend we're high class around here, we got a remote control. (And since we're not fancy high class, we only got an "On/Off" remote, rather than a "variable remote"- one you can actually change the flame height. By remote control. I'm not kidding.)

BigM was at school when they installed the logs, so when the installers finally left, I hid the remote from LM and told her to say a magic word. Voila, the fire appears. She looked at me through squinty eyes and said, "My not do dat. You do dat, Mama."

Gig's up, lady.

When BigM came home, I tried the same trick and we spent a good ten minutes of her trying all different magic phrases (only "Abracadabra" worked, in case you were wondering.) I was laughing so hard I was crying, while LM was rolling her eyes, clearly superior to all our nonsense.

We probably should have gotten her a variable remote. She's obviously more sophisticated than the rest of us.

She was also most unamused when the new logs set off the fire alarm.

Cold Feet

It was unseasonably warm this past weekend. On Monday, I asked the girls to go play by themselves for a little bit so I could get some things done. After about 15 minutes, BigM said, "Okay Mom, we're ready to go out in the snow."Judging by the looks of them, I believe they were.