One of Each

It happens often enough. When I go out with all three children, invariably someone will make a comment as to how many children I have. Usually it is something good natured like "Boy, you have your hands full." To which I usually respond, "Yes, I do." Sometimes, someone will say something like, "Oh, two girls and a boy. Now you can stop." As if now that I have one of each, I don't need to procreate anymore. I hate to break it to you, but I didn't have children just because I wanted to "try them on". I didn't have 3 because I wanted to keep going until I got a boy, so I could try the differences between the genders. Hubby and I are always excited when we find we are expecting, and are always accepting, regardless of the gender of the child. In all honesty, having children of one gender would probably be financially better, because it allows for the passing down of clothes, toys, blankets, etc, more possible. And, once you have dealt with one gender, all children of the same gender are the same, and you are an expert. What? That's not how you felt? Just kidding. Each of my children is different, and you have to experiment to find what works with each one. However, every once in a while, there is the occasional comment that is just down right rude. Like this weekend. Hubby and I went to Home Depot to buy our 4th set of electronic thermostats (since the old fashioned ones in the house didn't work properly, and the others new ones we tried didn't cycle properly). Hubby went to make sure we got one that "would" work with our system. I went to make sure it looked pretty. The kids went because although Kari is extremely responsible for a 5 year old, she still is, well, 5. The gentlemen passing us in the aisle took one look in our cart and said, "3 kids?!?! Do you think you have enough?" Hubby and I made some generally neutral, and at least civil comment, and continued to walk down the aisle. In truth, however, it hurt my feelings. I consider myself a decent parent (don't worry... I am not fishing for compliments, so don't feel like you need to provide any). My children are at least bathed and fed daily. They have warm beds to sleep in. They are mannerly, and generally well behaved. Heck, they even say "yes ma'am" and "no sir". I'll admit that I can't provide gold toothbrushes or every kind of lesson/play group/toy under the sun, but they have things that they need, and several things that they don't. Why, if I can do all these things, should I not be able to have as many children as I want? Hold on now, I am no Michelle Duggar (who just had her 19th child.... her husband is gonna kill that girl if he can't learn to keep it in his pants, or if they don't take evasive action. Although, they have less debt {as in none} than I do, and there children are well mannered, so who am I to judge. I am just talking from a health stand point.... having her 19th child at the age of 43 has gotta be difficult on the body). I never said I wanted that many children. I don't agree with the "Octo-mom" either. But, I am married, with a husband who works hard to provide for our family. I am not on welfare, but I will always be looking for ways to save money (more on that in a post to come). But, if I can support 3, 4, or 8 children, why do people feel the need to make comments like that? If you want to comment today, like I said, I am not looking to boost my ego on my parenting skills (although I could never say no to a well placed compliment ;). Feel free to tell me how stranger's comments make you feel. What your feelings are on large or small families. And, if you have had situations like mine, how you made yourself feel better about it.

Besides, just because their parents never told them they loved them doesn't mean I can't have as many children as I want :)

Dylan

Don't really have time for a post today, sorry....  busy busy busy.  But, since these are Christmas pictures and Valentines day is around the corner, I thought it might be time to share. 

The Gate

If I haven't mentioned it before, my house is a split level. I do have stairs. Not so many at a time, but stairs none the less. I have never had stairs with a crawler, so this is a whole new experience for me. Dinner prep time is often clean up time for the kids. While I am in the kitchen, they are cleaning up toys from various ends of the earth and putting them away in their proper chronological order (I know chronological is wrong, but it sounds so big and wordy, so I am going to leave it there). Hopefully. Right?!? Not just stuffing them in toy boxes, or under the shelves to be found later by little brother who like to eat things? Can I get an amen?!?! Anyway, since Dylan has found his new independence, I don't like to leave him at a place where he can fall down the stairs (albeit only 6, but that is 3 too many). (What? 3 stairs can't hurt anybody. Ask my little sister :) So, often as I leave them in their room cleaning (translation: playing with everything in a leisurely fashion as they mosey towards the assorted toy box/shelves) I will quietly close the gate at the top of the stairs so there are no mishaps. They don't hear the latch. They don't care that I am walking down the stairs. But, undoubtedly, every time, one will notice the gate is closed, and they will all whine and complain. I swear if they had metal cups, they would grate them on the gate. Anyway, this is what the hall normally looks like:

And this is what the hall looks like approximately 23.7 seconds after I have closed the gate. (Please note Dylan is there too... Monkey see....)

"Moh-ohm. Let us out!"
Nevermind the room isn't clean. Nevermind they have no reason to come downstairs. It is just the restriction of their life, liberty and freedom they are protesting...

Lets Start at the Very Beginning....

... Its a very good place to start. (Name that musical)

When hubby and I got married at the ripe old age of 19, we had our reception at the place where we had our first date (our first date was at a hotel where we watched a mutual friend compete in a beauty pageant). We thought it was kinda fitting :) We had many friends and family come and eat and dance and visit and drop off gifts. We registered at Bed, Bath and Beyond (which miraculously also carried our china pattern) and Wal-Mart. We figured between those two places we would have a decent chance of getting things we would need in our up coming life. We got a ton of things that were extremely helpful, and that I continue to use today.

We did not get any sheets. However, we did get a gracious amount of money/gift cards. From this, we stopped at a linen outlet on the way back from VA to AL, and bought ourselves our bedding: comforter, pillows, blankets, and sheets. Now we are getting to the good stuff.

The sheets, you see, we slept on quite a bit. So much so, that sometime about 18 months ago, they finally gave up the ghost and the fitted sheet ripped. The tag has been worn off, and I don't have any idea what they were made of, or where to get some more. For Christmas, I asked hubby for a pair of Egyptian Cotton sheets. I had heard these were both the softest and longest lasting. Hubby, being the super sweet guy that he is, went out and bought these:

I was flattered. I was amazed. I was appalled. I was flabbergasted. I was guilted. Hubby, went out and got the bestest, most amazing sheets ever. Exactly what I asked for. He spent waaaay too much. I have never spent that much on a gift for myself. Let alone on sheets. At the risk of hurting hubby's feelings, I had to take them back. It was great that he was willing to spend that much on me, but being that I do a majority of the budget stuff, I wasn't. I looked online and found these:

The price was right. And I thought "Well, if 750 thread count was good, 1000 would be better." They arrived in the mail, and I opened them in eager anticipation. They weren't as soft and dreamy as the first ones. And, when I went back and read the reviews (which I admittedly should have done before I got them) there were several unhappy campers. I decided I should send them back as well (since you can't once you wash them) and kept on looking. In the meantime, I was looking for a way to get the original sheets from Bed Bath and Beyond, just at a better price. Clearance or something. I found a place where I could get a 20% in store coupon, but that still put the sheets way over what I was wanting to spend. So I decided to go look around. Maybe I could find sheets that still felt soft, but would be less expensive.

I brought all three kids with me and spent a good hour feeling all the samples. I took the one hubby got me off the rack as a control and compared everything else to it. True to form, hubby was right. They were the softest, best weight feeling sheets. However, I was still not willing to pay the price. As I was about to give up though, I found these.

It is true, they aren't Egyptian Cotton (which is probably why they were discounted in the first place). But, the were so dang close to the feel and at 1/3 of the price I couldn't pass them up. I haven't washed them yet, so I will try to remember to keep you up to date. And, I haven't decided yet whether I will tell hubby that these aren't Egyptian Cotton. But with my 20% discount, I just might be able to make peace with my soul.

It is time...

I had considered doing "The" titles for the rest of my blogging life, but, I can't think of a "the" title that fits the blog as well. Besides, you can't say a "the" title in a Rafiki voice, so...

Dylan's crib (unlike the girls) has a side that moves up and down. I have the mattress down the the lowest level (preventing me from having to move it later) but have just been leaving the side down for ease of access. Well, the other day, I went in to get Dylan from his nap, and he had pulled up on the side of the crib. He hasn't figured out how to get all the way up to his feet yet, but up on his knees was far enough for me to decide it was time to move it up. Before I put him to bed for his second nap of the day, I raised the rail. When I went in to get him later, I couldn't help myself and had to take some cute pictures :)

And, being the opportunists they are, the girls wanted some pictures too.
Kari, decked out in her superhero finery...

Kaitlyn in hers :) Dylan looks like he is literally beating his head
against a wooden board. He wanted out by then.... ;)

And, just for good measure, as a close for my post today *Must also be said in Rafiki voice*

"You're a baboon, and I'm not". :)

The Animal Game

While driving and running errands in the van, we often play this game to keep the girls entertained. One person describes an animal, and the other person tries to guess it. Usually, just Kari and I play, and the game goes something like this:

Mommy: I am thinking of an animal that has pink feathers, long skinny legs, and a funny curved beak.

Kari: Is it a flamingo?

Mommy: Good job! Your turn.

Etc, etc, etc....

Lately, however, Kaitlyn has started to join in the fun. Sometimes she can guess pretty well. Her animals are usually always the same 3. But, the way she describes them is super fun. Observe:

Kaitlyn: Thinking aminal. Is elephant. Has legs and says "stomp, stomp, stomp". And says *elephant noise*.

Mommy: Well Kaitlyn, is it an elephant?

Kaitlyn: Yes!! Good job!!!

The Frame

Last summer hubby went study abroad to finish his thesis for Building Science. He went to something like 10 countries in 8 weeks. They studied several different buildings to see how they were constructed, how they have lasted, what could have been done differently with technology, etc... Each student was given a specific building to research, and present to the class. The thesis each student wrote has been compiled, and will hopefully be published into a textbook other colleges could use. We are still waiting to hear back about publishing. However, I had the super fabulous opportunity to go and visit with hubby and see a few of the things that he had already seen. While we were in Italy, we picked up this print of the building hubby's thesis was on. He bartered on the side of the street for it (something I would never think of doing), and got it at, like, 75% of the price the guy originally told me. We have been holding onto it since then, not having a frame, or a good piece of wall to hang it up on. For Christmas, I asked for a frame for our print, and we found one (get this) at Big Lots. It had some other funky print in it, but I think we paid $14.99 for the frame (and print that we just removed). Now it has the place of honor on my wall. I love the colors. I love the frame. I love that I have been there. We are thinking about putting a select few pictures from the rest of hubby's travel (since he took, literally 1000 pictures {which I can't blame him for}) around it to fill up the rest of the wall space. I will let you know when we finish that little endeavor :)

The Results

Thanks to all who voted in my less than scientific experiment :) The results are in. Of the 13 total votes, the winner by a land slide was Chunkless. There were two lone souls out there who agreed with my Kari in wanting to find prizes as they ate. So, all you chunkless out there, I wouldn't say it is time to storm the yogurt companies with signs that say "Chunk-less is Better" yet. But be patient. The time is coming, my friends, the time is coming :) In an effort to be fair (because we, as parents, are always fair) here are just a few pictures of Kari.

This is one of the times she went "hunting" with her daddy. This was taken at 5 in the morning... Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do....

She's a natural on a horse. Don't tell hubby I said that. More feed for the fodder.

The Rite of Passage

I suppose it is a natural, in born thing to try to grow up. I mean, really, it is what all organic things do. And, for those organic things that understand, there are rites of passage that signify when we have reached that level. (Tell me, if you please, when you feel like you reached it, because I still don't). Anyway, of those rites for girls (only, please) would be stage of make up. The older you get, the more make up you wear to look like you aren't wearing any at all. Now, if that ain't an oxymoron, I dunno what is. However, in your younger years, you tend to forget that, and just settle for whatever your guardian will let you pass out of the door with. Needless to say, these little girls weren't leaving the house. And, they took it off nearly as soon as they put it on, because they wanted to hug daddy when he came home without fear of getting him dirty. But, the exercise in itself was time consuming and fun :)

Kari, the acter. Kaitlyn, the acted.

And Dylan. Hanging out with me as we watched.
Filling up the brush.

Should I be fearing for Kaitlyn's "Eye Box" (as she calls it? :)

Please note the "darkened eyebrows". I think Kari picked this up from her cousin,

who in turn picked up her makeup skills from the opera stage.

Look how talented. No mirror required.

Oh, lets not forget the lipstick.

This was my contribution to the fray. Finger nail jewelry.

Because I am the queen of the house.

And what did Dylan and I do while the girls were "make-up ing"?

He was a cute kid. As always.

The Trash

Saturday night the Dyl Man had a temp of 102. I know, I know, it isn't all that high. But, Tylenol had a very limited effect on it, and when the poor kid woke up pretty miserable at 11:30pm, I have to admit I was thinking about going to the ER. Not because it was necessarily ER worthy, but mostly because there aren't many other places open at midnight. He eventually settled down and ended up going back to sleep. He was up several times that night, as was I, giving Tylenol, taking temperatures, cuddling (at least he cuddles when he doesn't feel good... my other kids would rather writhe on the floor). Anyway, Sunday morning he slept in a bit, but woke up around 9:30 like nothing had happened. Granted, he was still not quite up to speed, and acted a bit more cuddly than usual, but no fever, and no other symptoms. The only thing I can think of as this point is that it was his tooth. Yes, at 10.5 months, he finally has a tooth! Looks like he is taking after his sister Kari, who didn't get one until 11 months. Funny thing is, we had just checked out of the Shriner hospital the day before. If she had only been a day faster, she would have still been on morphine. :) Anywho, there are some days when you just feel like throwing your kid in the trash.

And then you get a face like this

And you think, "Well, maybe not today."

Another cute story:

We are at the point of potty training with Kaitlyn that we ask, oh, every 30 minutes or so whether she needs to go to the potty. Today, before nap time, she went and sat down, and when I asked if she was done yet she said "I can't go potty mom. My bum isn't ready yet." Well, ok then.