She's a...

SHE!!!!

The Rebel

Robert's been having a very hard time lately accepting my authority. If I ask him not to do something, or if I give him any instruction, he immediately launches into, "I don't WANT you to TELL me dat. I don't WANT you to SAY dat to me." If he's particularly upset, he'll keep repeating his sentence over and over, through angry tears. Today, I told him we weren't watching any more t.v. Not only was he upset that I was turning it off, he was upset that I TOLD HIM DAT. That I SAID DAT. I began trying for the umpteenth time to make him understand that I will always be telling him things, directing him in what's safe, important, best for him, etc., that I'm his mother, and he's my child, and I'm in charge of him, even though, in his almost-three-year-old fury, I know he can't begin to understand my reasoning or comprehend my purposes. Then, the following conversation took place:

L: "Robert, God's Word says, 'Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.'"
R: "It's NOT right."
L: "Robert, it IS right!"
R: "It's NOT right!"
L: "Yes, it is."
R: "It idn't."

This productive conversation went on for a while. This attitude of his is something that I need to and must deal with, but it also reminds me of another child who rebels against the authority of her Father, thinking she can possibly know what He's up to, sometimes shaking her fist through angry tears when she doesn't understand His purposes, which, unlike her own, are always good.

Robert still isn't potty trained, and sometimes when he has a poopy diaper, I say, "Come on bud. Let's go get fresh." The other day I walked into Miller's room, where they were playing, and noticed he was a little ripe. "Come on bud. Let's go get fresh." Miller quickly said, "Don't get him fresh in MY room."

Andrew

Today is my 8th wedding anniversary, and since I have no gift for my sweet husband, I thought I'd at least tell those who read the top 8 reasons he's the perfect husband for me:

1. He doesn't point out all my weaknesses as a mom
2. He'll rub my shoulders or feet whenever I ask him, not cheerfully, sometimes quite begrudgingly, but he does it (Hey - I didn't say he was perfect! Just perfect for me.)
3. He thinks I'm cute, even with SEVERAL extra pounds, even in maternity bathing suits, even at 9 months pregnant, and he's not particular about my hairdo, meaning it's fine with him if I have it long or chop it short
4. He knows when I secretly want junk food, like a soft drink or a Chick-Fil-A biscuit, even when I've told him I don't, and he goes ahead and buys it for me
5. If I'm sad, he doesn't try to say the right thing; he just hugs me and is quiet with me
6. He comes home early when he can, and always says he loves being here with us (although we both know that by Sunday night, he's looking forward to Monday morning)
7. He eats anything I cook and says it's great, even when it's gross
8. He loves my blog and never censors my stories, only helps me with typos

We went to the Galleria Chick-Fil-A with Miller and Robert tonight for our big celebration. It was fundraising night for their little school, so we ate french frith and ith cream and rode the carouself. All the children in line had a special animal picked out to ride. Robert raced ahead, loudly yelling, "I want the CHAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He and I had a big time riding the one bench on the carouself.

Date Night

Miller has been anticipating a date night with Andrew for over a week, and tonight was the big night. She was incredibly dirty from playing in the yard, so I told her to come in and get dressed, meaning that I would change her into a clean shirt for their dinner at Jim n' Nick's Bar-B-Q. She walked right in and said, "I want to wear my Easter dress." Of course I didn't go for that option (see picture), but I did let her pick another, less heirloom-ish, dress to wear. She walked back out to hear Robert saying, "Wheeeeeeeeere you going, Sissy?" She responded with a toss of her head, "a date." "IIIIIIIIIIIIII wanna go on a date!" So I told Robert I would take him on a date, to which he immediately replied, "I wanna wear my printh."

After Andrew and Miller left, I discovered that Robert really had no interest in a date with me. When I asked him where he wanted to go, he said, "Leth follow Daddy and Sissy." Then he cried and said he wanted to stay home. We finally agreed to go to Moe's - not the most romantic spot for a mommy and her printh, but a favorite of Robert's nonetheless. His kids' meal at Moe's includes a gigantic cookie, which he was scarfing up as daddy and sissy called to see if we wanted to meet up for dessert. I hesitated, as usual. Andrew said, "Oh, come on!", as usual. And as we drove the mile to Bruster's and I mentally went through what Robert had eaten that day, I almost drove the car off the road: Half a pop-tart, 1.5 Krispy Kreme doughnuts, 5 grapes, NO peanut butter sandwich (fell asleep during lunch), granola bar (not terrible), 2 slice-and-bake cookies (trying to be Betty Crocker-ish), one cheese quesadilla, tortilla chips, Moe's cookie, Bruster's ice cream. Holy cow. He's having trouble going to sleep right now. Hmmmm.

Miller had an exciting breakthrough last week. I was in the shower one morning when Robert got hurt or just upset, I can't remember which. Miller was clearly the nurse-on-duty. She had him lie down on some couch pillows that were strewn across the den, brought him his paci, then ran to the bathroom to announce to me, "Robert let me wipe his nose!!!" Oh! that he would let her have the honor every time. Every morning since the beginning of March? Feb?, Robert sneezes about 50 times before 10:00 a.m. And I'm sorry to be uncouth, but the amount of snot the little guy puts out could qualify him for a world record.

I also had a breakthough last week. I realized that shopping for maternity bathing suits is even worse than shopping for normal things. In a moment of either temporary insanity or really bad judgement, I took both kiddos to Target to look at their selection. I got the biggest dressing room, but with the shopping cart inside, there still wasn't much room. So there I was, squeezing my rapidly rounding body into a ridiculously small amount of fabric, trying to see if it was possible to stand in a position where my legs looked slightly smaller, etc., and Robert kept grabbing the back shoulder strap of each top I tried on and pulling as hard as he could, causing me to lose my balance and tumble from my perfect pose to the haphazard, bent-over position I will more likely be seen in while at a pool with this child.

Bad Weather and Bad Skin

The past two days have been dreary and depressing, with a few scattered thunderstorms. I'm a sunshine girl - happier when the weather's nice and gloomy when it's not - so multiple days of rain really get me down. Add to the weather the fact that Robert hasn't felt well, and we've had two LONG days. So here's my confession: I let my children watch the entire Sound of Music yesterday, all three hours, and that wasn't even all the t.v. we watched yesterday. Let me go see if DHR is at the door - they may be secretly monitoring this blog.....

Some have been surprised that Miller and Robert will watch this movie in its entirety, but they will, even the long music prelude and Captain Von McDreamy, I mean Trapp, lazily singing Edelweiss. Miller did get a little nervous toward the end yesterday, which she had never seen, and I tried to answer her questions honestly, which left her asking more questions. "Why didn't they want to be part of Germany?" How much was I supposed to tell a 4-year-old about the Nazi's?

Today's been better, with less t.v., and a little more creativity, on their part, not mine. I cleaned while they played, and at one point they both came to see me in full princess regalia, both with hair bows and dresses, with Robert telling me "We princetheth." Miller informed me that her princess name was Ava Grace, and Robert's was Maddie. When Miller later brought over a plain hair barrette for me to put in, Princeth Robert told me that boys don't wear barrettes. Among other things, Bud.

Now the sun is beginning to peek out. Hooray!

During this pregnancy, my skin has been ultra oily, and I've had many days of junior high school skin and several junior high school zits. I woke up with the biggest yet one day last week, and when I picked Robert up from school, I was trying to chit chat with another mom as we strolled out with our babies. Robert was pointing at my pimple and yelling at the top of his lungs: "WHAT'S DAT?? WHAT'S DAT?" When we got home, Miller noticed it too, and asked about it. It's a pimple, I told her. "Libba had a pimple one time. I cut it off with scissors, but it didn't hurt. Well...it hurt a little."