Science Night

Last night, the kids had science night at their school. They go to an awesome school where science and math are emphasized. In the fall, we had a math night.

I took Number Two and Darling Daughter to their activities. We did fun things like make snow, play with magic sand, learned about magnets, and also about conductors and insulators. Did you know a magnet doesn't pick up a key? Or a coin? Even I learned something last night.

We met up with Hubby and Number One in the hallway on the way out, and Number One couldn't stop talking.

"Guess what, Mom? I got to eat liquid nitrogen. You know in the movies, where they have smoke, that's what they use. Isn't that cool? And we made robots. It was so awesome."

It was exciting to see my normally brooding ten year old tween so excited about learning. Isn't that what we all want? For our kids to have a love of learning? Well, his school succeeds in creating that in kids.

Here's a video of him eating the liquid nitrogen. Too cool!

An Accident Waiting To Happen

Yesterday, I was in a foul mood. I was letting those dishrags in the sink get to me. I've been waking up at 3:30 AM every morning, mostly I think because my mind can't sleep. I have a lot to do, and when I wake up early I am always productive.  I went through the day letting everything anyone say irk me, and by the end of the day I was exhausted. I hit the gym, and I did two miles on the treadmill and laughed probably for the first time that day while running and watching, "Juno."

When I came home, I wanted to work on my synopsis, on fixing typos and editing another work, and I wanted to get another few hundred words into my work in progress, Little Birdhouses. But more than that, I wanted to curl up in bed and go to sleep by 8:30.  You know what they say about the best laid plans.

I consciously ignored the kids while I worked through my manuscript for about an hour. Hubby put the kids in the bath one at a time. We had a cold front come through, so our gas fireplace was on. And Number Two comes in the room, prancing around butt naked and bends over, sticking his butt right on the hot glass (I'll remove this post before he's a teenager and it embarrasses him too much).

At first, I didn't think he had hurt himself. He cried immediately, but not a heavy cry, more a shock of a cry. And then he started screaming, and he wouldn't stop for about forty-five minutes. Burns hurt. Well, we debated, is this a first degree burn or a second degree burn? We cooled it down, put him in a cool bath, and put aloe on it, but still he couldn't sit on it. He said it hurt so badly, and the burn was angry, red and swollen. Hubby went to pick up Number One from gymnastics (where he basically lives), and I stayed home with the little two. I finally got Number Two settled and asleep on the couch, about forty-five minutes after the incident, when Number One burst into the room and woke him up. Hubby put silver gel on the burn, the pharmacist's recommendation, which elicited a whole new outbreak of cries. He requested, "You Are My Sunshine," and then promptly cried himself to sleep.

Poor Number Two. .He's always getting hurt. First the broken wrist, then the punctured head, and now this.

I felt like the day was leading up to that point--just a day where you know something is off. Do you ever have that feeling?

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Dish Rags Don't Belong In The Sink

Do you have pet peeves? Sure, everyone does. Mine are things like this: don't leave the cap off the toothpaste and don't leave the kitchen cabinets open. Stupid things, that for some reason drive me absolutely insane.  I used to have a lot of pet peeves, and I used to make them all known. Critical Kelly, or whatever.

Today I woke up at 4 AM, and I found this in the bathroom sink:

I have a child, not to be named, who always does this:

Crazy Eyed Shepherd

A few years ago, the dishrag in the sink would have made me livid. I mean, steam coming out of my ears kind of mad. I used to have an anger problem. It's funny, because Number One struggles with controlling his emotions, and sometimes I ask myself why? Well, I can look right back at myself because I was that person for years.

I realized a few years ago, that dish rags in the sink DON'T matter. Who cares? Tell the kid not to put the dish rag in the sink, remind him over and over again, and he still does it. Obviously, he needed a wet rag to make the swoop on his hair perfect, or to stop the bloody noses that plague him all winter. In the scheme of things, is it important that I have to remind him to remove the dish rags from the sink a hundred times? There's absolutely no reason to get upset about it. A few years ago, though, I would have seen that in the sink and I would have seethed. When he woke up, the first words out of my mouth would probably have been caustic and punishing. I would have pushed him away from me, instead of holding him tight. I only have a few short years left with this crazy-eyed, wild kid before he moves off on his own. I want him to know he's loved and accepted. I want him to know how to make himself happy: by letting go of the small things.

You see, there's no point in getting wrapped up in the small things. All it does is take you away from the big things that you should be present for. It takes you away from the moment where your child might wake up and say, "Hey, I had the best dream." Or the moment when they're lying in bed next to you, and they're spilling their heart to you, because you're having one-on-one time and that's precious and rare. If you're always getting upset about the little things, then you're pushing people away. You're using it as an excuse not to let people get close to you. Trust me, I know, because I used to be that person (and I still sometimes am-a constant struggle).

It's so easy to change this too.  Be conscious of what you say to others and how you interact. Smile at people.  Let people know they're loved and accepted, even when they're being "corrected." When you feel anger rising up in you, count to ten, or walk away.  Come back to the problem at a later time if it angers you too much in the moment.  Think about it this way: if the dishrag is in the sink and I don't want it there, then I can pick it up and move it but I can't force someone else to do that. I can advise my child to not do it again, but chances are he will. I can use it as a learning experience, and make fun and conversation afterwards, instead of using it as a distancing tool simply in my tone and demeanor.

Do you get mad because there are dishrags in the sink?

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Finding Balance

I think the thing I hear most from my friends, family and other writers is, "How in the world do you find time to write with three kids?" I also get this question about how I find time to read. And the answer is simple: you make time to do what you love.  Do what you love, and you'll love what you do. That's my new mantra. Excuses take away from success, so I'm done making excuses in every part of my life.

But, that said, I still find it hard to achieve balance in my life. I become so absorbed with my characters when I'm writing that they seem to be living with me. I think about them in the shower, when I'm eating, and when I'm watching Number Two play basketball. I think about how they'd react to a certain person, what they would say, and even what they would order at a restaurant. Writers are a little crazy like that: they always have someone else living in their heads.

On Monday, Darling Daughter was diagnosed with double ear infections. I'm hoping she won't need tubes again, but she may. When I came home from the day job that night, I was on a mission to put "No Turning Back" on Createspace, order my cover and spine. Nothing could get in my way, and as a result I sat on the couch with the computer as kiddos clambered over me, but mostly I ignored them. And I felt bad. I felt bad the next day when Darling Daughter woke up and crawled into my lap, throwing her arms around me (still, and not for much longer, smelling a little bit like a baby), and kissed me on the cheek. She said, "I love you Mommy."  And my heart melted, and I decided I would have to take a day off from (or rather the night off) from writing, editing, or doing the next thing that needed to get done on Tuesday. I needed to spend time with the kids. So we went to my Mom and Dad's house, and Darling Daughter followed my Mom around while I watched Rio with Hubby and Number Two. Number One was busy at the gym perfecting his kip on the high bars.

Still, I felt better that night, like I had been present for them.  And to top it all off, Number Two and I read "The Giving Tree," before bed. And I told him how giving and caring he is, and how I'm envious of those qualities that seem to reside in his soul.

Balance is hard for me. When I get absorbed in a work-in-progress, it's hard for me to pull myself away.  How do you find balance between your work/life?  Having a day job, kids, and trying to write (more or less full time) is tricky business.

There's No Turning Back Now!

Yesterday was a monumental day for me.  Yesterday, I changed my life.  Yesterday, I did something I've been saying I was going to do for years.  Yesterday, I listed my book on Amazon for pre-sale.

You can pre-order it here: http://www.amazon.com/No-Turning-Back-Lauren-Greene-ebook/dp/B00SM94ENU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422013133&sr=8-1&keywords=No+turning+back+by+lauren+greene&pebp=1422013147725&peasin=B00SM94ENU

It's also now on Goodreads, so if you love it (which I hope you do), you can add a review.

Link to my Goodreads author's page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13113697.Lauren_Greene

The thing is, the day went by like every other.  I went to work, I went to Number Two's basketball practice, I came home and ate dinner with the family, then we all snuggled on the couch and watched an episode of "The Simpson's."  After the kids went to bed, I worked for two hours on sending another piece of work in for submission and putting, "No Turning Back," on Amazon.

People ask me how I do everything I do. I have a lot going on in my life: I work a full time job, take care of three kids, write, and sell Jamberry nails. I exercise consistently, and I have a social life too.

The thing is, when you have a dream you do whatever it takes to achieve it.  If you really want to succeed in life, then you have to work for it and stop waiting for it to come to you.  It won't ever come to you, if you don't put the effort into making it happen.  Three years ago, I was "woe is me". I wanted to be an author, but I didn't realize the work I had to put into it (and let me tell you, it's a lot of work but well worth it). To make it happen, I've had to spend countless hours writing, editing, socializing with writer's groups, reading about how to create an e-book (which I didn't have to do on my own thanks to +Dash McCallen), and figuring out how to get my name out there.  The book may sell one copy, or fifty copies, or it could be a bestseller.  I don't really care.  What I do care about is that I decided I was going to do this, and I went for it.  I stopped worrying about what everyone else thinks about me. I know there will be people who don't like my book, and that's okay.  I stopped doubting myself.  I started believing in the power of me, and that gave me the ability to live my dreams.

You can live yours too!

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Merry Christmas

This morning, I woke up earlier than normal, which doesn't bode well for me since Santa Claus is coming tonight.  Every Christmas morning for the last few years, we've been taking a photo of the kids on the stairs.  My kids don't like pajamas, but I managed to have them wear PJs for all these photos. (Not sure why, as I would happily live in PJS if I could).  Anyway, here's the last couple of year's worth of pictures.

December 25, 2013

December 25, 2012

Darling Daughter was a latecomer and didn't get in on the stairs party in 2012

Christmas 2011

It's amazing to me to see how much they've grown over the years.  I think it's funny Number Two is wearing the same pajamas at 3 years old as he is at 5 years old.  That gives you a little perspective on how quickly my kids grow.  There's just something about Christmas. 

I love seeing their faces as they look at the gifts they received.  I love getting on the floor and playing with them.  I love putting together legos endlessly, and "Mommy, can you open this?"  I'm not sure we missed the mark this year on Number One though.  He is ten, and he's impossible to shop for.  He either wants expensive gifts, or tons of video games, or a Flash or Impulse costume. The costumes are hard to find (and expensive) in December.  I just hope he can be happy with what he receives, because that's what Christmas is all about, right? Joy and Love. The magic of giving to others.  

Tonight, Number One gets to be the stepfather of Jesus (his words) in a pageant at church, while Darling Daughter will be an angel.  Number Two had stage fright, and he refused to do it, even though there are no speaking parts.  

Tomorrow, we'll open presents, then cook a big dinner, then lie around exhausted!

Merry Christmas!!!

Practice Makes Permanent

I woke up super early this morning, because Number 2, my precious middle guy is sick. 102.5 fever and cough.  He must have come down with what his sister had last week.  This poor kid has missed out on Trick-or-Treating this year, a Pumpkin/Playground Field Trip and now his Christmas party at school.  I feel sorry for my sweet little guy.

I need to take a note from this kid in learning how to roll with the punches though.  He is so laid back.  He moaned for a minute, and he cried about not being able to go to his party, but then he was over it.  He deals with things as they come, and he has the sweetest disposition.  Love the kid.

Because of my 4:30 AM wake-up call, I finished a basic edit of Chapter 11 of "The Devil Within" and published it.  You can find that on #Wattpad.  I wrote about 2,000 words on my no-name WIP.  I needed to edit a little bit of "No Turning Back." I'm going through my feedback from my beta readers, and I'm trying to figure out what advice I need to take and leave.  I'm polishing, and then I'm going to self-publish in January.  I know I've said I would be self-publishing before, but this time I actually have a timeline and it will happen.  When you procrastinate, nothing happens. True story.

Then after I finished actually working on my writing, I played with Social Media for awhile.  I'm a little overwhelmed with all this social media.  I have accounts on Twitter, Google+, Facebook (of course), Instagram, and now Tsu. (I don't know how to make the special u that goes on Tsu).  Social media is the way for an indie writer to get noticed.  Twitter, I think, is one of the most important social media outlets, even though just a few months ago I thought Twitter was the stupidest thing that ever existed. I still don't "get" all the things I need to be doing.  It's a learning curve, for sure, and I spend so much time trying to keep up with all the tweets and retweets that I barely have time to write, or clean, or cook, or take care of kids.  Being an indie writer needs to be a full time job, but unfortunately for most indie writers it has to be done on the side. A second job, because that is what writing is to me.  It's not a hobby: it's a job.

I love writing. I want to do it for the rest of my life.  Self-promotion is hard.  Getting noticed is hard. Being published traditionally would be my dream, but in the meantime, I'll keep plugging on with what I have, and I'll try to keep promoting myself the way the rest of the indie writers do.  I heard the other day, instead of "practice makes perfect," which is not true, "practice makes permanent." And boy is that ever true.  I've put myself in a routine to write every morning, and now if I don't I feel like I'm missing a vital part of my life.

Now if I could only get everyone in my family well and make it to the gym.  That would be an accomplishment, for sure.



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Two Whole Hands

This week, Number One turned two whole hands!

A few years ago, okay, FIVE years ago, he was so excited to be turning, "one whole hand!"  I remember telling a co-worker, and we laughed and laughed about here, and here we are, and he's already ten.  It's hard to believe.  He's grown so much into himself, and so many of the issues of the previous years are resolving themselves as he gets older, which is a blessing to us in so many ways.

Excuse Number One's face!  He had just finished his Veteran's Day performance, and he was tired of standing.

As a parent, it's hard to express how much you love your children.  To the moon and back is never far enough.  Parenting is one of the most frustrating, heartbreaking jobs, but it's amazing to see your children grow and develop, and it is so rewarding when you see them achieving their dreams.

Speaking of dreams, I'm back to working on mine.  I pulled up my novel, previously Semi-Detached, now named No Turning Back, and I requested beta readers through Goodreads.  I received feedback from two people, and they both liked the story.  They gave me pointers on some things I can change to make it better, and mostly I agree with what they said.  It was nice to have unbiased feedback, and positive feedback from people I don't know!  It makes me feel like maybe I can actually get somewhere as a writer, if I keep putting the effort and the time into it. I just wish there were about seven more hours in the day.  There never seems to be enough time.  

In other news, the gods of unfairness are playing against me when it comes to my alopecia areata. About a month ago, I noticed I have a few strands of eyebrow hair.  They are still there: I can feel them.  Well maybe a week go, my underarms started itching, and I noticed today I'm growing a little underarm hair.  Um--can someone just transfer that to my head?  Who wants underarm hair, really?  I said in my mind what my Mom said to me, and what every one's parents said to them in a little cliche voice, "Life is not fair."  I wished for hair, and it popped up in a place where I'm going to shave it off.  Maybe I'll just let it grow long, and move to a commune or something.  Or I could be in the circus, "The Bald Woman with Underarm Hair Down to Her Toes."  Great fodder for a novel.

Deep Thoughts: Yoga and Happiness

Today I went to yoga.  I have slowly started incorporating it into my life again.  The last time I went I was 21 years old, six months from graduating from college, and experiencing great turmoil with all the change taking place in my life.  This time, I'm going to do something for me, something to help make me happy and relaxed.  

I've been thinking of happiness this week, and when I'm in yoga those thoughts spring up too: how to be happy.  I'm finding happiness in my life in unexpected ways: by making new friends, reconnecting with old friends, by setting writing goals AGAIN, and by trying to find contentment and purpose in my every day existence.  I feel so much of life slips away from us while we're staring at our cell phone screen.  So much time simply flies by because we get caught up in trivial problems, and we let them overtake us.  Sometimes we don't meet our true potential, because we are scared of achievement, of putting ourselves out there, and of just doing what we know would truly bring us the greatest happiness and sense of purpose. We are paralyzed by a sense of powerlessness, even though we all have with in us an ability to change our own outcome for the better.  

During yoga, I concentrate on my breathing: in and out, in and out.  I listen to the rhythm my breath makes.  I try to concentrate on the breath, and I usually see it as colors: inhale/red, exhale/blue.  My mind feels free and the tension washes away.  Afterwards, I feel utterly calm and happy.  When my usual smile stretches across my face it feels genuine; it's not just a mask for other hidden feelings.  Wouldn't it be amazing to feel that way every day?  
But, as I read in an article earlier this week, happiness is fleeting and it's meant to be that way.  Humans have an intense want to make temporary things permanent.  They catch onto a feeling that made them feel so wonderful, and they want to feel it over and over again, instead of experiencing it and then letting it go, enjoying the memory, but not wanting to re-live the same moment indefinitely.   

The other day at the dinner table, Number One and I were talking about this, and I said, "Wouldn't it be wonderful if you only felt joy?"  

And he said, wise beyond his nine years, "But Mom, then you wouldn't know what it was because you'd never have felt sorrow."  

And he's so right.  Without sorrow, would joyfulness be less joyful?  Would joy even exist?  

Sometimes after Shavasana, instead of feeling intensely happy, I feel an intense need to cry. I think this is from releasing into the meditation, from letting things go, the need to cry is a physical manifestation of the tension melting away.  Sorrow and happiness all melted into one, like a littmus lozenge (from Because of Winn Dixie).  The feeling is bitter sweet, the letting go of things you carry is hard, because sometimes as you let go you feel like you've lost a part of yourself.  

I believe the key to happiness is living in the moment.  Not looking to the past.  Not looking to the future, but simply being aware of your emotions, being aware of yourself, and living your life in a way that you can accept what has happened, what will happen, and being aware of the inability to change what you can't control.  Setting goals, and realizing you dictate your own future, can help too.  So many people wallow in their sorrow.  They don't find a way to dig out.  They aren't aware of the power inside of them to reach their goals and to live a life that will make them happy.  I, myself, am guilty of this: wondering why I can't get where I want to, but often not taking the action to make a positive change.  Without action, no change can occur: negative or positive.  Why not take the risk?  Without the risk, there can be no chance of failure, but there's also no chance of success.

Find something that makes you happy: be it yoga, reading, Zumba, talking to a friend for hours on the phone, or chasing after your giggling children, who live for today, and don't think about what tomorrow will bring.  Fleeting moments in time.

A Morning Getaway

It's 6:15 in the morning, and instead of trying to read The Fountainhead or packing, I'm typing on my computer.  I'm making a concerted effort to write every day again, even if it is just blogging.  Writing every day is harder than you think, when you have a full time job, three little ones running around, and a plethora of activities where they need to be dropped off.  I wouldn't say I'm lying if I said I feel like a chauffeur most days.  I think all Moms feel that way on occasion. 

Tomorrow I'm going to the beach with this little goober:

 

 

She is all legs, and this photo disturbs me a little bit because I can see some of her 16 year old self here.  She is growing up, my baby. 

 

I took this photo with my Canon Powershot A2500.  I guess it's a good camera.  I had a wonderful, amazing, big semi-SLR Sony camera for years, until it broke.  It wasn't worth fixing.  I had already sunk $100 into it once before, and doing it again would be worthless when I could buy a comparable camera for $400.  I just miss it.  The quality of photos was amazing.  The video function on the camera was awesome, and I didn't get mediocre quality.  Now I resort to using my iPhone camera almost as much as this little Canon.  And we all know what the resolution is on an iPhone camera: sucky.  But there are some benefits.  I don't mind handing the Canon over to my kids, and I get real beauties when I do, like this modern piece of art entitled Apple on a Cluttered Counter:

 

 



 

I think this piece says a lot about our lives.  Number One took this photo, and I've increasingly let him borrow my camera to take more and more photos, because honestly I don't care if he breaks it.  I would never have let him touch my Sony, but Canon POS...um, I mean PowerShot: he can take all the photos he wants with it!  It's like a little peek into how he sees the world. 

 

Now I have to go get ready for the day.  I still need to pack the car up.  Tonight the boys have Trunk or Treat, and tomorrow Darling Daughter and I are getting on the road at 5 AM.  But first I have to go to work, go to Yoga, and take Number Two to a soccer game.  It never seems to stop. 

 

I can't wait to sit on the porch at the beach with my Mom with a glass of wine and let the sea salt air sink into my pores.  I can't wait to hear the waves crashing and to let the rush of life slip away just for a few days.  It's all worth it. 

 

 



Living Lessons: Change and Growth

I just love it when my body wakes me up at 4:30 AM.  (That's sarcasm, in case you didn't catch on.  I know it's harder to get when you're reading).  Oh well, since I'm a glass half full type of person I'll make the best of it.  I have things to do this morning, like write random blogs, and iron shirts for picture day.  Can I just say: I HATE ironing.  When I iron, it still looks like the clothes were left crinkled up at the bottom of the laundry basket for day (a little secret: they were at one point).  I can't make the clothes look flat and non-wrinkly. I don't use starch.  I think I would be a mega-fail if it were still the 1950's.  But guess what? It's not, and I'm not a housewife.  I have a career.  I have three kids.  I have my own social life.  I exercise.  I couldn't fit much more into my days if I tried and how well I iron is not going to determine my worth!

Speaking of three kids.  We were up until almost 9 finishing homework last night with Number One.  Homework battles are out the window (thank goodness!), and he's finally "getting" the math problems, showing his work and doing it well.  But first we had cross country, then dinner, and by that time it was already 7:30  He worked diligently on his homework while waiting for dinner, but after dinner it took awhile for him to solve all the problems, show his work and explain it to me. We're getting there though.  Math has been hard for him this year, but last night I was super proud of him because he worked hard and didn't get frustrated.  If you know Number One personally, you know this is a major achievement.  Sometimes frustration can shut us all down, and once it's taken over it's hard not to let it overtake you. 

But I really wanted to post about CHANGE today.  This morning, as I lay awake in bed with the cogs in my head spinning out of control, I thought about CHANGE.  Change is such a scary word for some people.  My life has had a lot of change.  There have been ups and downs and go with the flows.  There have been some days I have felt I could barely move on.  Life is HARD people.  Life changes ALL.THE.TIME.

Here's what I've learned: accept change, but don't try to change others.  As I was thinking this morning about change, I thought about what a friend told me recently, "People don't change."  I don't think this is true, or maybe a better phrase is: I don't think this is entirely true.   I think people are dynamic.  I think they can look at themselves and make positive changes for themselves.  I don't think they can change for others, nor do I think they should.  I think they can only change if they really want to change.  But I'm not even sure "change" is the correct word here.  Maybe the word is grow or evolve or that self-helpy word: self awareness.  We grow into ourselves as children, feeling out the world around us and figuring out our place.  We grow into ourselves as adults, as parents, as empty nesters, and finally as elderly people.  The world around us changes.  Everything happens for a season, and then suddenly we are amidst new surroundings, new people, new thought processes, new technologies, and a new way of living our lives.

Look at your life 10 years ago and tell me if it looks the same?  Do you still hang out with the people you did 10 years ago?  Probably not.  Do you still enjoy the same activities? Probably not.  Did you have an iPhone 10 years ago? DEFINITELY NOT! 

Change is inevitable, even though for some it's scary.  Forcing change on others is a no-no (man this sentence really makes me feel like a toddler mom, sorry folks).  And I'll give you an example, even though it's not life altering or anything.  For years, I've bitten my nails.  NO--that's an understatement.  Since I've had teeth I've bitten my nails.  I can remember riding in my Mom's green Town-and-Country in high school, and she'd slap my hand, "Get those nails out of your mouth, Lauren!"  It only made me want to bite them more.  Strangers would tell me to stop biting my nails.  And recently a co-worker told me to stop biting my nails.  I looked at her and I said, "Why worry about something you can't change?"  This has been my mantra lately, and it has allowed me to look at my life and let things go.  It's made me realize that if you're so caught up on trying to change other people, then you're missing the point and you're not looking at the one person you can change: YOURSELF.  It took me a long time to realize, and I went about things incorrectly for a long time: criticizing, judging, and trying to change other people when I should have just been looking more closely at myself to see how I could incorporate more grace and understanding into my life.  This is something I'll probably be working on until the end of my days.  For now, I'll simply say the only person I'm going to ask to change from now on is myself.

Kids Say Funny Shit!

We went over to my parents’ house a week ago Saturday, to have one last swim before the cold sets in (which may be soon or may be two months from now).  Plus, they’re closing the pool so they can go gallivant elsewhere!  Last Hoorah!

 When I arrived, my Mom was obsessed with “Untold Stories of the ER.”  She said she’d been watching it all day.  I wanted to go swimming, but I need a cup of coffee because I was tired that day, and the next, and then the boys came down with strep, so yeah, I was fighting off something.  

 

We all sat around and watched “Untold Stories of the ER.”  Then we put on swimsuits, went swimming, and enjoyed a glass of wine each and chatted about family and ancient history.  Don’t worry Mom, I won’t spread any of your stories for the Internet world to read!

We went on about our business for the rest of the weekend.

So imagine my surprise on Monday. 

We’re driving to school and listening to MY FAVORITE: Raffi.  In between “If You’re Happy and You know It Clap Your Hands,” and “Baby Beluga,” Darling Daughter blurts out, “MOM—remember this weekend on the TV.  That girl had a worm crawling out of her butt!” 

I laughed so hard, I almost ran into the car in front of me.  She has mentioned this about fifteen times since.  Apparently, Untold Stories of the ER made a huge impression on her.

This morning she says, “Why was there a crowbar on the ground, and how did that guy get it into his head?’ 

 I said, “Darling Daughter, do you want to be a doctor when you grow up?”

 

“No thanks,” she said. “I’ll be a mom.” 

There are worst aspirations!

Darling Daughter Turns 4!!!

Today is Little Bit/Shoo Shoo/Darling Daughter's birthday.  She is four.  I can't believe how fast time has gone by.  I feel like only yesterday, I was holding her sweet newborn body in my arms.  I stared down at the lump of baby in my arms and looked into her blue eyes, and I could not for the life of me believe she was a girl! 

When I found out I was pregnant with Darling Daughter, I had mixed emotions.  Three children seemed like an awful lot.  I finally got used to the idea though.  On the day of my ultrasound, my Mom and Hubby met me at the doctor's office.  We had to wait and wait, because they were super busy. 

Mom said, "Now, Lauren--I don't want you to get upset if it's another boy.  Do you have any boy names picked out?"

"I know, Mom," I said.  "I'm fully expecting it to be another boy."

We were ushered into the back, cool little room.  The ultrasound tech went through measuring all the bones: the skull, the femur, etc. 

"Do you want to know what it is?" she asked.

We nodded, and she looked. She slowly but deliberately typed out: IT'S A GIRL across the screen!

My Mom and I both started crying and hugging each other.  I love my boys, but there's nothing like having a daughter.  My Mom and I are so close to one another, and I wanted a daughter I could share that bond with.  It was like a dream coming true. 

Darling Daughter was born on May 21st at 12:15 PM.  She was a content little thing, and so sweet!

 

 

Babies are like little lumps who can't do anything.  Your goal in life is to shape them and help them make the right decisions: give them the tools they need to succeed.  When I held Darling Daughter in my arms, I could see how sweet and special she was.  (So could everyone else, and that's why her nickname now is Spoiled Rotten!!!)  It was so funny putting dresses on her at first, and it seriously took me a month to get used to dressing her in girly clothes.  I'm all for gender equality, but after having two boys, I wanted dresses, frills, pink and bows. 

 

 

 

Darling Daughter has grown so quickly.  From her 1st birthday where she cried and only perked up when she saw the cake and opened a few of her presents. 

 

After that birthday, she developed an intense stranger anxiety.  The only people she was not afraid of were me, Big Mommy and Big Daddy.  She didn't even want to be around Hubby.  I can tell you--there were many days when I had trouble with this cling on. She would hold me, as if I was going to walk out the door forever.  We did Baby Gym, and she could not stand it when Coach Ken would get to close to her.  After three months of screaming through it--I decided we would just wait.  Stranger anxiety had to end at some point, right?

 

 

 

And it did.  By about 2.5, she was everyone's best friend.  We switched daycares, and I saw her become another person. She opened up.  She was bright and bubbly.  She also got the tubes she badly needed, and the quiet child I once had became an incessant talker (just like her Mommy). 

 

 

 

And now year three has come and gone in a flash.  This year Darling Daughter became so independent.  She loves her babies, and she often creates elaborate stories with them.  She uses her imagination all the time, and she walks around the house belting out songs.  She acts like a little Mommy to the boys (who despise it)!  She also likes to put on my high heels and say, "Now I'm the Mom."  She is stubborn, and if she ask for something and you say no, she'll keep asking hundred times until, exasperated, you have to walk away!  She loves princesses.  She loves Frozen.  She sings, "Let it Go," about a million times a day--almost as many times as we've watched the movie!  She can also keep up with the boys!  You'll often find her pedaling the spin bike right behind her brothers, flip flops on, and dress blowing in the wind!  How I love this sweet FOUR year old girl! 

 

Forever and always, my baby. 

 

 





 



Number Two Turns Six!

Number Two's 6th birthday is tomorrow.  I sometimes wonder how six years went so fast.  I like to commemorate my children on this blog when their birthdays roll around each year.  Number Two is so sweet and funny.  He's generous, helpful and super imaginative.  He's my easiest, most laid back child, who has a booming loud voice when he wants to.  I often have to say, "A little bit quieter!" 

Yesterday, I was able to go on Number Two's Easter Egg hunt with school.  The children were told they could find 12 eggs.  They knew there were enough eggs for 12 each.  All the kids went in one direction, and Number Two went in the other direction.  He found almost all the eggs on top of the shrubs and on the bottom and mixed in, and pretty soon his basket was filled with about 30 eggs! 

 

 

Most of the kids found 12 eggs, but one of the teachers was doing a basket for a child who was out sick.  She said she only had 9.  Number Two promptly counted out three of his eggs, without even asking to give to the sick child.  He then walked around and looked in other children's baskets, and if they had a lot less than him he gave them out.  What a sweet, generous boy I have. 

 

 

Before Number Two was born, I was convinced he was going to have brown hair and brown eyes like me.  But, when he was born he had a sheen a fine blonde hair. The nurses used to sneak into my room just to rub his head.  He had chubby cheeks, and he looked like a little baby elf.  He was so quiet.  From day one, he slept well.  Out of all my children, he's the only one who has ALWAYS slept in his own bed.  He needs his rest, and he makes sure he receives it. 

 

 

 

Being a parent is the most amazing thing.  Sure, some days are hard with whiny kids, talking back, not going to sleep, but it's truly amazing to bring a baby into the world and watch as they turn into a fully functioning kid.  It's awesome to see how their personality develops.  To watch them develop strengths like Number Two has: kindness, imagination, mathematically-inclined, friendly, sweet, and grateful.

 

 

 

When Number Two was born, and the nurse placed him on my belly I cried.  I looked into his sweet face, and I saw all the possibilities of what he would become as he grew from a baby, to a toddler, to a boy and then to a man. 

 

 

 

 

I love you, my sweet white-headed boy, and I couldn't imagine my life without you!