The Elmo ABCs

Spice just knows stuff.  I don't feel like I've taught her anything, she just kinda picks up on things and knows how to add 1+1 all the way up to 1+9 and write out the answers.  I don't remember teaching her to write her numbers.  Oops.

She's been writing her name for a couple of years.

I feel like for not even five, she's a pretty smart kiddo.

Bias shmias.

Anyway, right now she says she's going to sing her ABCs to me.  Something I don't know that we've really worked on.  (I know, I know.)

ABCs, the Spice age 4 version:

"a b c d e f g, h i j k elmo p, q r s, t u bee, w x y n z."

I sure love that baby.

I love that she listened

Last night Josh worked late so the girls and I ate dinner just the three of us.

I stood at the counter and served their spaghetti.  They ate at the bar, I ate standing up.

We're quietly eating when Spice sort of gasps and puts her left hand over her heart.

"Mama!" 

"What?!" 

"Jesus.  He just talked to me. To my heart."  She says with eyes wide.

I'm sorta startled.  She's never said anything like this before.

"What did He say to you?"

She smiles.

"He said He loves me."

Allergy shmallergy is not a good attitude, but it's been mine.

Nearly three years ago we found out that my youngest was allergic to wheat/gluten, dairy, eggs, peanuts (moderately) and oranges.

I'm sad to say that I've done a pretty rotten job at keeping these foods from her diet.  I'm her mama, I'm the cook, and it all boils down to my being lazy.

It's hard to adjust an entire meal around just one person in the house.

We've recently noticed some other health issues that are concerning to us.  It's time I start putting her little self above my laziness.  Her scalp, her belly, her sleep habits, the bags under her eyes that are often purple-ish.  These are things that need to be taken care of.

For the last several weeks we've done a much better job at keeping foods away from her that cause harm to her.  It's difficult when we go to friend's or out to dinner and find that we let it slide then.  However, it's not long until she lets us know her belly hurts.

Food isn't the only thing with gluten.  Many of the products we put on our bodies have gluten as well, so I'll be cutting those out for all of us.  Pretty sure this is why, at nearly five years old, she still has "cradle cap" on her scalp.

This morning I told Josh, "maybe it's time we go granola."  We laughed.  Going green, natural, organic, whathaveyou is often pricey.  With our new budget in place I'm going to have to get creative.

Am I the only one who sees stuff on a shelf at the grocery store and just assumes if you can buy it, it must be okay to use?  I grab a deodorant or make up or lotion I've used for years and I don't think twice about the ingredients in those things.

We aren't going to get freaky, but I'm definitely going to start doing my research on stuff and start with one thing at a time.

So, if you're a friend or family member, please don't be offended if you invite us over and we have separate food for Spice.  We don't want you to have to adjust your menu for us, we know it's not easy to cook allergy free.  But we want her little body to start feeling better.

Apparently she views this place as a prison?

This morning during school I was talking to the girls about safety.  Sugar's health book is so old that it says to pick up the phone and dial '0' in an emergency.  I didn't read that part to her but I laughed out loud when I read it to myself.

I totally picture a rotary phone too.

Anyway, I ask the girls what number they need to call in an emergency,

Sugar: 911

Me: And when they ask your location, what do you say?

Spice: In jail.

I couldn't get through these school days without her.  She makes them fun.  She makes them memorable.

this that and some other

I started a post on "Mommy Guilt" and quickly got rid of it.  The post, not the guilt.

I've decided to purchase a cow on my next to trip to the grocery store to keep up with all the butter and cream that is required to make the Pioneer Woman's recipes.

My kids aren't napping anymore.

I just died a little bit admitting that.

I was encouraging a friend today to not believe lies that can sometimes fill our heads (either words we think up or are said to us) when all of a sudden I was hit with the reminder of being told, "you're a fat, selfish, snob" and I had to quickly remind myself  that those words are lies.  They were then.  They are now.

I just slammed my girls' bedroom door.  Because I'm mad.  Whew.  Glad I got that off my chest.

At a stop sign a coupla days ago Spice says, "it's clear, Mama!" so I go.  And then she says, "Mama, what's 'clear' mean?"  I laughed so hard.  Good thing I'd checked and knew that it actually was clear.

Saturday night Josh and I came home from a wedding, started a fire in the woodstove out on the deck, turned up my dad's 1970's Kenwood stereo, grabbed a beer (or 2) made some popcorn and danced and sang with our girls.  It was one of my favorite nights of the summer.

I have a terrible memory.  I remember the most random stuff, usually numbers, but I never remember important stuff.  Like my childhood.  I was talking to Josh about it the other day and there's just so little I remember.  Bugs me.

Clifford just meowed.  He wants outside.

Amber and I are going to collaborate on a book with letters to future selves.  Letters to us as the mothers of adult daughters.  To remind us of the types of mothers-of-adult-daughters we want to be.  We'll likely be the only ones to read it but that's okay.  I will read and re-read that bad girl so that I am the type of mama my girls want to be around and come to for advice or just to talk or sit or whatever with when they are adult women.

I'm having my wisdom teeth out soon.

I've been baking up a storm lately.  Not sure what my deal is.  I wore my apron to the grocery store by accident last week.  To be honest I'm more embarrassed about the apron in public than the prom dress.  Maybe because the apron was an accident and the prom dress so wasn't.

I'm putting us back on a budget.  Which means less driving around.  Less spending.  Less being fun.

I overhead Sugar say to Spice, "let's pretend we're sisters and we like each other."  To some it would be funny.  For me it hits too close to home.

We started school yesterday.  Can ya tell?



The other night my sister and BIL were over and the kids were playing.  Spice hit her head on the coffee table and started to cry.  I picked her up to check her over and Jerry said, "she's bleeding."  Sure enough there was  a lot of blood.  I panicked.  I looked at Meg and said, "what do I do?"  She grabbed Spice and said, "you give her to me."

Megan and Jerry both used to volunteer with a local fire department and both are trained for situations like this and I was so glad they were there.

It was amazing to see my sister in action.  She took Spice, set her on the counter, looked it over and determined that while it was deep, she was fine.  I would have been fuhlipping out had they not been there.  We put pressure on it and within no time the bleeding had stopped. I would have rushed that kid to the ER for stitches.  She was her chipper little self within the hour and has been just fine.  I haven't been able to brush her hair though because some of it is stuck in the scab.  Yum, huh?  You're welcome.

Josh put in a 14 hour day yesterday.  I love that he's not lazy.  He never complains but is always saying he's so thankful for his job.  I love that he's a hard worker.  I love that he doesn't expect or depend on anyone else to provide for our family.

That's hot.

And I thought she'd go to Kindergarten in diapers...

I've been blogging for 5.5 years.  If you've been reading for any longer than a post and a half you know that I'm married to Super Man.

(he'd roll his eyes if he read that.)

But it's pretty much true, wouldn't you say?  And if you need one more story about him to convince you, here it is.

While I was away for a girlie trip two weekends ago, Josh decided to potty train Spice.

Fo Real.

And he did.

He got her to go.

And it's been two weeks since I've changed diapers.

Part of me feels bad that he did it and then part of me (the part that carried her for 9 months and pushed her out without any form of medication) doesn't.

Yay for no diapers!

That much more to spend on coffee.