Archive | February, 2013


25 Feb

I love a Sonic coke more than anything else that any restaurant or fast food chain can offer.  If I had my way, I would go to Sonic first thing every morning, but I do try to limit myself to only going if I was already out in town.  In order to offer proof that this obsession of mine exists, I would like to document the following:

1. I filled almost an entire ketchup bottle today using nothing but my saved Sonic ketchup packets.  This also is proof that I am cheap and a pack rat.  (I also have enough Sonic mints to give out as Halloween candy for at least 2 years.)

2.  When we pull up to Sonic, my children complain if someone is parked in “our spot” and have occasionally asked if we can ask them to leave.  (These same children also believe that Sonic french fries are an acceptable breakfast.  Oops.)

3.  On many occasions, my order has been brought to me before I have pushed the button to place my order.

4.  My children talk about the employees like they are family.  Once while talking to the cashier at Walmart, Norah said, “Did you know Shaina is going to have a baby boy?  His name is Spencer.”  The cashier asked me if Shaina was my sister.  “No,” I replied, “she is a carhop at Sonic.”

5.  Family members, co-workers, and friends give me gifts of Sonic gift cards or show up by surprise on my doorstep with a Sonic coke.  Just an FYI–I would never turn down a Sonic coke.  Ever.  

It is late, and I can’t think of any more.  But, I am sure there are more.  And, I’ve said it many times, but it is very true.  Sonic cokes are my love language.  I am still working on trying to get my husband to understand this.  


Attention Walmart shoppers…

18 Feb

Yesterday morning on Facebook and Twitter, I said that I often wonder if I should give a warning call to Walmart before going with my three children.  Now, I am wondering if I should go ahead and have an “I’m Sorry” fruit basket on standby for delivery, too.  Yep, it was THAT bad.

We saw some friends from church when we entered the store, and during my talking to them, Aaron was knocking Little Debbie snack cakes off a display.  “Mommy, it have wrinkles (sprinkles).  It no nummy (so yummy).  Nummy in my nummy (Yummy in my tummy.)”  Thankfully, I was able to intercept all of the snack cakes before he tried to open and eat them.  However, it was shortly thereafter that I made a crucial mistake.  I wanted to look at Valentine’s Day clearance items for next year, and I ended up getting several things.  I should have waited until the end of the shopping excursion because in doing this first thing, I severely limited internal buggy space.  The big kids early on now had to walk through the store.  (Or also in their case, ride hanging onto the outside or lying on the bottom rack.  And I can’t exclude running, skipping, jumping, dancing, and twirling down every aisle because there was plenty of that.)

We honestly didn’t have much in the way of groceries to get, but what little I bought took a crazy amount of time.  The kids couldn’t agree on which yogurt to get so somehow I ended up getting them their own 4-pack of yogurt.  Norah put hers in the buggy, but Aaron instisted on carrying his.  Crucial mistake number two.

On the peanut butter aisle, a woman addressed Aaron by his name.  Norah immediately asked loudly, “Mom, how does that lady know Aaron’s name?”  Through clenched teeth I explained that virtually every person in the store knew their names on account that I had been saying them every 5.7 seconds since entering the store.  Also since the beginning of the blessed shopping trip, I had been asked twice if all three of them were mine, and two women had stopped me separately to say, “Three kids in Walmart by yourself.  Aren’t you brave?!”  I was leaning more towards stupid, but whatever.

We made it to the produce section which meant that the end was so near.  That is when each of Aaron’s 4 cups of yogurt went flying through the air as they left the cardboard package.  How all of them actually survived the attack, I do not know.  But they did, so I put them in the buggy to keep them in tact.  Aaron jumped on to the side of the buggy and tried to get back his beloved yogurt.  I explained why he wasn’t able to hold it anymore.  So like any reasonable toddler would do, Aaron threw a fit.  He was laying face down on the floor crying while shoppers tried to dodge him.  By this point, Isaac was fussy so I was holding him and unable to do much with Aaron one-armed.  I was however able to scoot him over enough for shopping to resume for others.

I really don’t even remember how I convinced Aaron to get over to the checkout area, but we made it.  (The kids chose that moment to ask if they had behaved well enough to get a treat.  I just snorted.)  I understand that a trip to the store is capitalism at its finest, but I really wish they did not put candy, cookies, and chips at toddler eye level in the checkout lines.  In less than one minute, I took from Aaron’s hands Goldfish, M&M’s, a bag of Funyuns, a National Enquirer, and multiple Reese’s peanut butter Easter eggs.  And, he cried like I had beaten him with every retrieval   Clearly this child had to be contained.  I was getting many a look from shoppers and employees a like.  (And as a side note, for all of the enticing junk they have for children at the checkout, I think it only fair to stock those 20 ounce drink coolers with some alcohol.  I personally do not drink, but I would have considered taking it up at that point.  Alas, a coke was my only crutch.)

Thankfully, we were then rescued by another set of friends from church.  The precious Runyans got in line behind us and held Isaac while I strapped Aaron into the buggy.  Then Tony got my buggy emptied onto the conveyor belt and loaded bags back into the buggy while Read entertained Norah and Aaron.  Seriously, the Lord put them there “for such a time is this” because I was close to the end of my rope.  Involuntary head jerks and spastic blinking were moments from taking over my body.  Even leaving the store, the obnoxious two year old in the buggy wistfully said, “I non’t want to say bye to Meh Ree.”  (That boy sure loves his Ms. Read!)

I am hoping that one day my life will be a little less uncomplicated and I will be able to be the lady that distracts the crying baby in front of me.  Until then, you should all considered yourselves warned.  See me in Walmart, and you might as well keep right on going.  And to think–I have been assured that I am gong to miss these days and want to have my little children at home before the blink of an eye.  There is gonna have to be some major intervention on that one, God.

Elusive sleep

15 Feb

With my first child, I had nothing better to do than rock her to sleep and sit for an hour with her asleep on my chest. Baby awake in the night? No problem! I could always nap during the day with her. We spent many an hour snoozing in the recliner together. There was no schedule for her. When she was tired, she slept. When she was awake, we played. The world was Norah’s playground.
And I was a moron.

Second child… I for some reason still hadn’t learned my lesson.  Obviously, taking care of 2 kids did put some limitations on what I could reasonably do.  Aaron took more naps alone, and I did try to give him a schedule, sort of.  One problem with Aaron was that until he was close to a year old, his crib was in our room because of where we lived.  Somehow, I ended up getting up in the night with him while I was still sleeping because I heard him so easily.  I frequently woke up with him in our bed and had no recollection of putting him there.  Oops.

So currently, I have a 4 year old and a 2 year old who fight going to bed at night and frequently are putting their feet in my face at 3 in the morning.  Matt and I often ask each other in a bleary-eyed stupor in the morning, “When did they even come in our room?”  We are tired.  We are exhausted.  We are worn out.

Our poor third child had no chance, really.  I arranged it early on so that his bed is farther from us than the others.  He is tucked into a corner in our bonus room separated by a hallway and stairs.  Honestly, just knowing Isaac’s personality, he probably would have slept all night regardless of where we put him, but as it is now, our not quite 9 month old sleeps all night and has for some time… or if he is waking up, I just don’t hear him.  He naps better too; he just slept for over two hours in his crib which would have been a miracle akin to the parting of the Red Sea with the others.  Thankfully, he doesn’t seem emotionally scarred for occasionally crying himself to sleep.  Granted, he cannot get himself out of his bed yet, but for now, I think I can say we are doing something right with him.

I know that with the big kids, our biggest glitch is consistency   It is all my fault.  I’ll acknowledge it.  Desperation for peace will sometimes make you do crazy things, things you swore you would never do.  Aaron is still our loose cannon, but I really do think that we are on the upswing with Norah because she is fighting less and staying in her bed more.  We are getting there.  Slowly but surely, we are getting there.  Thank goodness.  I’m beat.

And so it begins…

12 Feb

I blogged once many moons ago.  I loved it, too.  But life kept throwing up on me, and I let it fall by the wayside.  I debated on picking up where I left off there but decided against it for a few reasons.  There was no way that I could accurately recap the almost 18 months that I had missed, and I am too anal to leave that huge gap undone.  But mostly, I decided to start anew because my first blog was deeply personal and something that I didn’t intend to share with everyone I knew.  It was my therapy during pregnancy and miscarriages.  I sent friends there when they suffered losses like ours, and it gave my mother and my husband a chance to know my heart without my having to say words aloud.

I am doing this now because I occasionally have someone tell me that I need to write a book, but heavens, I wouldn’t know where to start on that.  And my friend Katy frequently tells me I should be on stage, but I would probably puke from nerves.  One of my life’s joys is having people laugh at my stories, and I am hoping that through this I can maybe get some of them down for posterity.  (I for sure want to get the Walmart/Mormon/Goldfish Assault story written out at some point.)

In order to make this blog work now, I need to bring up a few things.

1. Accountability is crucial here, guys.  I mean, don’t expect me to crank these puppies out every day, but you can prod me a bit when I am slacking.  But only if you are willing to provide free childcare in order for me to write.

2. It needs to be said that regardless of how much I am threatening to drive the mini-van into the ocean, I am not really going to.  For one, I am a long way from an ocean, and I am too cheap to spend that kind of money on gas.  Plus, I know that Matt wouldn’t get insurance money if I did that, and he deserves compensation for the past decade.  Sarcasm and dramatization are just my go-to coping mechanisms.

3. My level of blessing is insanely high, and I know it.  Trust me, I treasure my children.  (They are all quiet as I am typing which makes it easy to say that.)  I know that there are people who would give an awful lot to live a life with a mortgage, a husband, and three kids.  If I didn’t have those things, then I would be one of those people.  So please, don’t assume my feeble attempts at humor are in any way my wishing away the life God has given me.  I honestly wouldn’t trade it.  (I do however frequently ask the Lord for more naps.  And a house keeper.  But I digress…)

So, there it is.  My first post.  We will see how this goes.