Oh, Caroline.

This morning, as with every morning, we were scrambling to get out the door for school. I had everyone dressed before breakfast (that doesn't always happen), everyone got a good breakfast (this doesn't always happen), and we started bundling up to head out to the car. I had "preheated" the car, since it was 31 out there this morning. I had found everyone's hat and mittens, everyone had on a coat, I had packed some things we'd need while we were out. I'd even remembered both Caroline's backpack and the gallon of apple juice she was supposed to bring for her Thanksgiving feast. (Because no Thanksgiving feast is complete without apple juice.) I had managed to keep my cool and not get irritated with anyone as we were leaving, and I was feeling pretty good about things.

Then, as I was walking her up to the steps to her preschool, I noticed that I had failed to do her hair. Or even brush it. Oh well, it was looking long and wavy and lovely nonetheless. No big deal.

It wasn't until I picked her up from school and brought her home that I discovered...

When I'd sent her upstairs to grab a sweater or sweatshirt for school, she had instead grabbed a white 2T (as in, for 2-year-olds) onesie and put it on under her shirt. And added a pair of tight-fitting pajama shorts under her jeans, just for good measure. (It's possible that she may know a man that wears boxer briefs, and she often tries to recreate that look herself.)

All would have still been well, except that she got hot at school. So she removed her shirt and just wore her onesie (!) and jeans ... with the top of her jammie shorts visible above the waistband of her jeans. I'm still slightly mortified.

The wisdom of Caroline.

"I don't know if we're going to have any more babies, but God knows, because He's the One who gives us things. And babies is one of His presents, right, Momma? I don't know what His other presents are, though."

Is it spring yet?

I find myself longing for spring. Daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths, tulips. Warmer weather. Fewer layers to put on the kids every time we go outside.

And gardening.

Last year was my first experience with a vegetable garden. (Excluding, of course, all the gardens Dad had as I was growing up. Of which there were many.) I made some mistakes. I didn't plant some things early enough. I didn't support some plants enough. And I planted most things too close together. They still flourished, but it was super-annoying to harvest the vegetables.

This morning, I felt like planning out Vegetable Garden 2011. So I got out some graph paper, a pencil, ... and some easel paper, watercolors, a permanent marker, a cup of water.

It helps to include your 4 1/2-yr-old assistant, you know.

You never know what you might find...

when you live with Caroline. [Warning: this post is picture-heavy.]

Take this, for example: stadium seating, Caroline-style.

A crayon in the living room during quiet time:

Thank God for Oxi Clean.

Caroline took it upon herself to fill Will's pockets while he was doing some tummy time. (Because what six-month-old doesn't need a maraca and a marker?)

Momma, I drew a long snake!




Yes, honey, you sure did.

This is what happens when Caroline dresses herself. Pajama shorts worn as underwear, under a bathing suit, with hospital-issued non-skid socks, plus Daddy's shoes.

This is a bag she packed so she could go see her uncle Jon in Japan. (That's right, Caroline, bring that teapot!)

This is the "barn" she built around Will. "He likes it, Momma!"

She was using rubber bands on a little peg board, and she'd been given strict instructions to NOT TOUCH THE FLOWERS. She swears she didn't, but, um, what's this??

Oh, Caroline, how I love you.

Life at our House

I was reassembling a table that I wanted to reposition in the foyer, and Caroline was cracking me up, so I grabbed the ol' iPhone to record it for your viewing pleasure.

I'm really sorry about my cold. I think it's annoying to hear other people cough, so, again, sorry.

And, I promise, I try to keep clothes on my kids, but they really prefer to be buck nekkid. I've had her put her clothes back on at least three times so far today. Our children are indecent.



My favorite part is how she switched her delivery technique when I told her to talk like she's 3 1/2.

Enjoy.

Crunchtime, again.

So today, I'm getting ready for a trip to visit my parents in Tennessee. I can't wait. I really really love visiting them. But ... before I leave, I really should:

• clean the house
• get caught up on laundry (though we all know this will never happen)
• go back to the grocery store tonight to exchange the gallon of milk I bought this morning, took home, and discovered was SOUR (in fairness, though, I should also say that I called the manager at PayLess, and he said to bring it back, and he'd exchange it AND give me my money back. Not bad.)
• bake some granola bars (Right, like this is crucial before we leave. But I still want to.)
• wash & dry all of Will's diapers so I don't come home to week-old dirty cloth diapers
• go to Macy's and buy new sheets (again, not crucial. But our fitted sheet has a huge rip in it -- thanks, Caroline!, and I can't find any spares). And they're on sale!
  
• maybe make a spare spare key? I had three extras made, and I'm down to one.
  

On the bright side, I have, so far today, put a load of laundry in the washer, washed the dishes, and vacuumed.

And I have someone coming to buy a table from me at noon. (Craigslist is a wonderful thing.)

And I have cleaned and hung my full-length mirror. Someone who shall remain nameless, but who is featured in this picture, took it upon herself to decorate my mirror with red & green crayon.(Hint: It wasn't me.)

I better get started.

Before I do, though, I realize that this post is a little heavy on sentences starting with "And", as well as lots of parentheses. It's just the way I work. (And I'm sorry.)

The three sweetest words in the English language.

"You were right."

I'll have to tell Bob. I finally asked Caroline about this picture:

And you know how I thought it was a head, over a torso (with breasts!) with arms & legs? Well, I was wrong.

Turns out, (and now I vaguely remember Caroline saying something about it when I found this drawing) this is a picture of Caroline. With a crown. But not because it's her birthday. Because she's a queen. So the smaller circle, up over the big one? That's her crown. And we may need to work some anatomy classes into our busy schedule, because apparently, her arms and legs are coming out of her head.

At our house, on birthdays, the birthday girl gets to wear a crown at dessert time. The "crown" is my mom's tiara from when she was on Homecoming Court in high school. I used to love trying that thing on when we would visit my grandparents' house in Iowa, so when we were splitting up my grandparents' things, as my grandmother prepared to move in with my parents, I asked for the tiara. I knew that my girls would have as much fun with it as I did. And they do.

While we're talking about language...

Caroline talks a lot about the past and the future, and she has specific (and consistent) ways in which she does this.

To describe something that has already happened, she says, "Last night a year ago..." As in, "Did you make me a cake for my birthday last night a year ago?"

To describe something that's going to happen, she says, "Sometime on Thursday..."

Just so you have a heads-up, that's what those phrases mean. Every once in a while, Bob gets confused and says something like, "Did you tell Caroline we're going to Chicago on Thursday?" And I say, "No, did she tell you that? ... Oh wait. I'm sure I told her we'd go to Chicago some time soon. To her, that's on Thursday." The little goober.

She does like to read, so perhaps she picked this up in the sports section.

Stupor

In most ways, Caroline is like Bob. For example, she smells everything. Everything. It really grosses me out, but Bob is her champion in this. We have senses for a reason! We should use them!, he says.

But when she wakes up, she's a bit like me. If Bob talks to me about something when he's leaving for work in the morning (and I'm still in bed, mostly asleep), I will often respond like I know what I'm talking about. But I have no memory of it afterward.

Caroline, however, is just in her own zone when she wakes up. It's best to give her space so she can enter the world of the living in her own sweet time.

Anyway, Friday afternoon, I had to wake her up from her nap because we were going to meet Bob's mom for supper at the Olive Garden. I woke her up, knowing I would incur her wrath just by rousing her. So I quickly followed up "It's time to get up" with "We're going out to eat with Nena! At the Olive Garden!" She thought that through, and then remembered that the Olive Garden is next to a car wash that she loves.

But since she'd just awakened, she did not possess the ability to sort through her collection of nouns and come up with the appropriate ones. So she said, "Are we going to go see that thing with that thing in that thing?" And I, knowing exactly what she was talking about, because I AM HER MOTHER, said, "Yes, honey. We are."

Oh my goodness, I love my kids.

Frazzled.

Last night, Lucy was having a rough time. She was asleep, but then Caroline woke her up, and she has a hard time going back to sleep. I went in and comforted her, but she wouldn't stop crying when I left, so I got her some more milk.

Then she woke up around midnight, and again, there was no pacifying. I decided to just her cry it out, but Bob proposed letting her sleep with us. Oh boy. As soon as she got in bed with us (and the two cats) (in a double bed), she decided it was time to play and giggle and touch my eyelids and roll around. I was starting to get really annoyed, so Bob proposed that he go sleep on the couch. I didn't really see how that would fix anything except for Bob, so I nixed that.

Ultimately, Bob put her down in a different room, but with another cup of milk. She finally fell asleep.

Then Caroline fell out of bed and woke up wailing. I went in and held her for a bit, consoled her, and then tucked her back in.

Then Will woke up a time or two. I shouldn't complain because he sleeps through the night EVERY night, but still, I could have used a quiet night from him.

This morning, the girls dumped a huge load of blocks all over the house, I'm waiting to hear back from my doctor's office on whether or not they need to see me (I think I have an infection), or if they can just call in a prescription, I have an upholsterer coming to give me quotes on redoing a chair and couch (and, while we're at it, maybe the dining room chairs, and some cushions for the window seat?), and I really should shower. But if I'm in the shower, will I miss the call back from the doctor? I think it's worth the risk.

Good grief. May naptime come quickly--

Speaking of naptime, Caroline fell asleep on her sleeping bag during naptime yesterday. And when I say on her sleeping bag, I mean while it was still in its stuff sack. Crazy kid.

Keepin' it Real

The kids and I made a Home Depot run this morning. I may or may not have gone, unshowered, wearing a Matanzas 5k shirt from 1998.

I spend a good bit of my time feeding children. Specifically, my baby. So when I saw this drawing (by Caroline), I thought it was of me. In other words, I thought the head was a bit above the torso. Bob thinks that the big circle is a head, and the smaller ones, eyes. Oops.

I still think I should ask Caroline.

In other news, it's 9:41pm, I've fed him a million times already today, so go to sleep already, Will. I mean, come on. You could not possibly be hungry. Please don't be hungry.

Please!

Update: (10:23pm) He was hungry. Of course.

Fail.

Let's say you have a three-and-a-half-year-old. Let's say she is sweet-natured, brimming with compassion, and pretty darn smart. And you love her dearly.

And then, let's say, you say something flippantly that causes her anguish ... and you to kick yourself repeatedly, apologize, ask for forgiveness, etc., and still feel awful about.

Caroline is toilet-trained. (Sorry, I hate the word potty.) She does not have accidents. She wears a diaper to bed at night, but we've stopped with the naptime diapers. She usually is awake long enough before she falls asleep that she asks me if she can go to the bathroom, and I always say yes.

Until today.

Today, I was feeling irritable because of the MESS these kids make. Why can't they ever put anything away? And why won't they keep their clothes on? I'm tired of saying, "Where are your clothes??" Anyway, I put the girls down for their naps, and then I was tackling a couple tasks (disassembling a piece of furniture in the kitchen, updating our tax return online with the tax statement I received today, checking Facebook, etc.) downstairs. Caroline asked to go to the bathroom. Twice. She went. Twice. The third (or maybe fourth? I don't remember--) time, she called down from upstairs, "May I go to the bathroom?" I yelled back, "No, you may not go to the bathroom again!" This is all in the space of about ten or fifteen minutes.

Five minutes later, I heard her upstairs wailing, and I knew something was terribly wrong. I raced up there and found her, peeing, in my bedroom. The white noise machine was near her on the floor, and I wasn't sure exactly what had happened. Was she hurt? Had she gotten shocked? I raced her into the bathroom, sat her on the toilet, and calmed her down. She concocted a story about where she was hurt, but when I pressed her, she admitted she was crying because she'd peed in her underwear.

Oh my goodness. Dagger to my heart.

I almost lost it.

I apologized profusely and told her it was my fault. That I was not angry with her. That I should not have told her no. Etc., etc. Then I cleaned up the bedroom and got her some clean clothes.

I thought I'd better talk with her again about what had happened, so I reiterated that this was MY fault and I was not angry. And would she please forgive me? She said yes. And then she said, "Momma, what's 'forgive'?"

I thought hard. How do you define it? So, I told her, it's like this:

I say, Caroline, I am so sorry. I should not have told you you couldn't go to the bathroom.
And then you say, Momma, it's okay. I love you.

That's what it means to forgive.

To which she replied, "Momma, it's okay. I love you."