Super Noob:
Addyson

When I make a promise I deliver! So here it is, in all it's hideousness splendor, the fish cake. Honestly, Addyson originally asked for a dinosaur cake. I didn't know how I would get that done. Fortunately for me, in her ever fickle way, she changed her mind and settled on this beauty.

This, my friends, is why my cake decorating skills have gone undiscovered for so long. They simply don't exist. Addyson, when first she was able to gaze upon her mother's creation, exclaimed "Mama, I asked for a fish cake!" Pft...that's as good as you're gonna get outta this mama. "What does it look like?" I ask her. "A star" is her reply. Upon further examination, I can certainly see how she came up with that. In the end I was able to convince her of its fishiness, and all was well. I will say this for myself...I can bake. The cake tasted great, and even had homemade cream cheese frosting.
For those of you waiting on my husband's answers...you will more than likely receive them tomorrow. Possibly, they will be in installments...we'll see.
Lastly, my current giveaway will end tomorrow and I will announce the winners (that's right, remember there will be two winners?) shortly thereafter.
Oh, maybe not lastly. I wanted to pass along what another blogger is doing. Julie at The Peanut Gallery isn't calling this a meme, but she is starting Mommy and Me Mondays. She is encouraging all of us moms (or dads) to get in the picture with our kiddos. Too often we are the ones behind the lens. So on Mondays, get a picture on your blog of you with your child(ren). Fun challenge for me! Feel free to link back to her or not (it's the only right thing to do really). Can't wait to see you all!!

My four year old spent the day today as "Willy." As in Willy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. As in Johnny Depp, Willy. No, she didn't dress up. There was nothing going on for which she had to play a role. She simply decided that today...she was Willy. And Willy constantly referred to herself in third person. "Willy's full of this sandwich. Willy doesn't like animal crackers." I honestly didn't even know talking in third person was a skill a four year old would have. I should have known better.

Fast forward to bath time. Colton was already toweled off and went running, naked, out to the kitchen. I was drying off Willy when I hear Colton say to Finnegan (our dog) "wick my bunghole!" Yes. That was the cherry on the sundae that was my day. This is my life.

Saturday is our out to eat night with the kids. They look forward to it all week. After dinner they are allowed to choose where we go to dessert.

So, this past Saturday we are riding in the car to dinner, and Addyson and Colton are talking about which ice cream place they'd like to have. Addyson says Cold Stone and Colton says Frost. Of course. Never could they simply agree. That would be too...well, simple.

Then, Colton, in a voice as sweet and smooth as honey, says to Addyson "Do you want Kona Beri, Addyson?" Addyson says, in a sassy voice, "No!" Colton's logical reply to this is "Well, then I'm gonna fart!"

You bet your sweet a$$ that I found this hilarious!

I have this picture that Andy took of me holding Colton. He was a brand new little guy, and I was in love. So in love that it floored me. I experienced it once before when Addyson entered the world, but I didn't really believe my heart could hold that much more. What a fool I was. The second I heard his cry, my eyes flooded and my heart expanded. God had blessed me with another little soul, and Colton immediately found his place.

When I learned I was pregnant with Colton I was a bit surprised. Not, of course, at the how of it...just at the how soon of it. Andy and I had decided it was time to let nature take its course again...and let me just say, nature had the fast track in mind. I was worried about my little Addyson. She was 9 months old when Colton was conceived, and I fretted over her being kicked from the nest too soon. It broke my heart.

As Colton's scheduled due date arrived I fretted over that too. I had tremendous guilt that my babes needed to be born via c-section. With Addyson, I at least went into labor with her, and was able to give it the good ole' college try. But with Colton, I chose his birthday. I hated that (and I don't usually say hate). What if we were taking him out before he was really ready? Shouldn't he have been the one to say "okay guys...here I come!" It took me a long time to be okay with that.

So, here are two pictures actually. The first is one of my holding Addyson after they wheeled me back from surgery. My eyes (and entire face) were so puffy. It's a wonder I could stop crying long enough to have a picture with her. My little baby...too soon the big girl.

Here she is, so unsure of what is all happening. Only 18 months old. But a brave little face nonetheless. She obviously knew something I had yet to learn. That Colton was a precious gift to her. God gave her a new best friend.
And here I am with my newest little addition. I am looking at my screen through a filter of tears as I remember how I felt then...and how even that doesn't compare to what I feel today.

Thanks, Julie for hosting such a wonderful theme. It has afforded me with some wonderful knew photos, and has enabled me to relive some very treasured memories.
Please go join up with Julie for some more Mom N' Me posts.

Often, I wonder at Drew's relationship with our other two children. Will it be a good one? He is 8 years older than Addyson. Or will it be strained and distant? What does Drew really feel about them? These are not questions I can ask him...they are questions that will only be answered in time.

Today, I was sorting through a couple of things next to my computer, when I came across a handwritten poem that Drew had done. It is obvious that the poem was one that the teacher assigned, and the students had to change the wording to make it their own.

His is titled "Addyson"

It reads:
If I could grant a wish for you
I would get a thrill or two

May you get no chores when you get older
May you get older and a whole lot bolder

May you be beautiful and really sweet
May you be always organized and really neat

May you have the skills of a great saint
May you always have fun and never faint

May you always have a lot of fun
May you get married and have one son

May you never have to pay a fare
May you never be attacked by a bear

May you always be very rich
May you never become a snitch

May you never be truly pale
May you never step on a nail

May God bless you all of the time
My you live until 99

Oh, if I could grant a wish for you,
I would get a thrill or two.

Thank you, Drew for answering one of my questions early. I sure do love you.

Isn't she lovely?

I'm not exactly sure when it happened...but I've been trained. I'm so ashamed. Once upon a time I stood my ground. I made a statement, and I held to it. Was I only dreaming?

When Addyson came along, she began training me immediately. Boy, was I surprised. See, I was so sure that I would be training her. I even planned to have her eat and sleep on a schedule. She was going to be the best sleeping baby that ever graced God's green earth. I even read Babywise in preparation. Well, Addyson did not read her copy of the book, and she had other plans. For twelve weeks I held her for every nap. Well, I did, or Andy did (don't even get me started there, we were so at each other's throats). Holding her at naptime wouldn't have been so bad if she would have slept in a sling so I could multi task. Heck, I would have been happy if she would have let me hold her and just read a book. Again, she had her own ideas. My darling daughter had to be in her room, with the shudders closed, in my lap while rocking in the glider. If one of these criteria wasn't met, all hell (yes hell) broke out in the Mamma household. So you see, she has been working us from the start.

When she was 12 weeks, I was finally determined to teach her how to sooth herself at naptime. This bolgna started to seep into our nights (which to that point had been just fine, she'd nurse two or three times a night and go straight back down), so we sleep trained. It was the best thing I ever could have done...for her, for me... for my marriage ;) In three days time she would go down for a nap in her own crib with no soothing from me. Amazing.

Today, I was thinking about this as I lay next to her during rest time. It dawned on me that somewhere along the way, she worked me over. Did you notice the first sentence of this paragraph? That's right...as I lay next to her during rest time (insert record skip). It's the only way I can get her to nap now, and even that is failing lately. So I may throw in the towel. We may just give up once and for all on the old naptime for Addyson. That or I'll still be sleeping with her when I'm 80.

As I lay my head on my pillow last night at 11pm, I thought to myself, “I had already been in labor for two hours four years ago.” Asleep in the room across the hall, was the little angel that blessed me in a way that can’t be put into words. Today she is four years old.

There is a Garth Brooks song which has lyrics that read “She’s sun and rain, she’s fire and ice…a little crazy but it’s nice.” Now I know he’s referring to a woman, but man…does that ever some up my daughter.

Addyson is her own person. 100% of the time. She’s feisty, and she’s so smart. She’s independent, and she’s so compassionate. She loves her family, and she adores her blankie. Her little brother is her best friend...but he's also the biggest pain in her ass backside. And of course, we all adore her. After all, she walks around carrying our hearts with her wherever she goes.

Happy birthday, my little peanut. It hardly seems fair that you’re already four. I love you with every fiber of my being.

With love,

Mommy

My Dearest Addyson,
Three years ago today you took your first breath...and in many ways so did I. When you made your way into this world, mine changed forever. Instantly my heart swelled with love, joy, pride and fear. Oh I had heard all about how the love for one's child is unmatched by any other...but I didn't really get it. Not until you. When I gazed upon your face for the first time, I understood. My love for you was immediate and immeasurable. Love so strong it almost hurt. Love so strong I never fathomed that it could grow any more.
I was so wrong. With each passing day my heart and the love within are ever growing. You astound me with your intelligence. With your capacity for compassion. With your love for me, your daddy, and your brothers. Every day you bring me to the brink of my sanity, just to reel me right back in with an unexpected hug or kiss. You are a challenge, knowing exactly what you want and how you want it...accepting no substitutions nor any delays. You are a pistol, a never ceasing font of energy. You stretch my patience to the limit, then sweetly melt my heart not moments later. You are tender and wise beyond your three little years.
It hardly seems fair that three years have already passed. I wish I could soak up every second and every moment so they may be stored at the ready for me to relive any time I desire. Every day I memorize each line of your face, count every new freckle. And every day I watch you as you become someone I never dreamed you'd be. Dreaming of the person you are would have been impossible. You have surpassed my every expectation, my every desire, my every hope. You have fufilled my every wish, Addyson. You have not only made me a mother...each day you teach me just what that means.
Happy birthday, little peanut. I love you simply more than you will ever truly know.

Love,Mommy

Addyson and I were sitting on the couch yesterday when she picked up a sippy cup from the floor (Lord only knows how long it had been there) and asked me to open it. I complied. She sniffed the inside of the cup, and said "Oh, that stinks...did Daddy fart in it or something? Seeing as how I have the sense of humor of a 3 year old, I laughed.

You might assume, based on her automatic question, that Andy makes a habit of farting in the sippy cups in our home then securing the lids to capture the stench for an unsuspecting child to later discover. I almost want to let you believe that to be true. It's not. He doesn't. Why that was her first inclination is beyond me.

Maybe the people in this house have an unhealthy obsession with farts. Or at least the people under 3 feet high.

It's been building for a while now. I've felt it coming. Today it all broke loose. Like a torrential outpouring, I was flooded with the pent up frustration I've been carrying around for who knows how long. Now that it's been released, I honestly can't say for sure what has had me in such a state. Is it the perpetual mess in which I find myself daily? Is it the constant won't let me breathe can't poop in peace incessant need of my time and attention? Certainly I am not performing any feats above and beyond my peers. Yet, at times, I feel absolutely defeated. Sigh.

So today, I was having a challenging telephone conversation with my husband, and in the midst of it, a basket full of my hair ties, barretts, etc. were dumped out (by my children) and cleaned up (by me) four times. My children always have impeccable timing. They seem to know just when to attack...to plot against me. Well, upon hanging up the phone, I croucehd to my knees to clean up (yet again) the articles that were strewn all over my bedroom floor. This added to the frustration my phone call left me feeling, sent me over the edge. I cried. I yelled something about being tired of cleaning up all the messes. Something about the living room always being a disaster. Addyson, having never seen me do this, started crying too. Talk about adding insult to injury. Immediately I thought "oh perfect, what sort of psychological damage am I doing to her?"

I pulled my crap together and told her not to worry, that sometimes mommy's had a hard time. Then, I instructed her to go wait for me in the living room while I put Colton down for a nap. So I changed his diaper, and put him down. Bless this baby for being such a wonderful sleeper.

As I come out toward the living room I see Addyson carrying a box of pasta from the living room to the pantry. Curious, I make my way to the living room to see that she has cleaned a large portion of the room. All the toys that she could manage were put back in the toy basket, and the accent pillows were put back on the couches. Immediately tears sting my eyes. I can't believe that my little daughter has such a huge amount of compassion already. I can' t believe that I made her feel so insecure that she felt like she needed to please me that way. Now...to figure out how to do that every day ;)

things look a tad wintry. This is afterall, Arizona and we are not used to this view. Here are a few peeks (and peaks) into what we see from our backyard.

Addyson

Colton

Drew

A wash that runs(in weather like we've had recently) directly behind us...

And how 'bout a Saguaro so we can tell it's still Arizona

Currently, these are the views from our perspective.

It seems unfathomable that at one point I could scarcely go a day without blogging, let alone weeks. Yet...here I am, reaching (and I mean really reaching) for something about which to blog. I am hearing Jeopardy's theme song in my head, yet...nothing. Nada. I'm convinced my head just takes up space in the world without having the ability to contribute anything meaningful.

So, instead I guess I can write about our trip to Pensacola, Florida to visit my brother in law and his family. The fact that we just got back last night, and Addyson seems to have contracted conjunctivitis (pink eye). Fortunately, our doctor doesn't require a trip to the office. She'll simply call in a prescription to our pharmacy. Thankful for that. We've never experienced pink eye here before, and I've never had it in my life. So, I really didn't know if it was the real deal.

The trip itself was great. I happen to love my in laws and consider myself blessed that they are such great people. Oh, and I happened to learn a very interesting tidbit of information. These same in laws have 6 kids and counting...and they have named Andy and me in their will should something ever happen to them. WOW! I'm incredibly honored that they would choose us for such a huge responsibility...and not a little intimidated at the thought of going from 3 kids to 9 (or more!).

That's it. I'm tapped out.

Yes, you read correctly. I asked if anyone has ever pooped on your floor...like besides your pet. I have had the misfortune of this happening twice! Once several years ago, and again today.

Several years ago, we were still living in our old house. It was summer and my husband's brother and his family came to visit. They have six kids. It was a mad house. All the kids were swimming in the pool out back; the husbands were outside watching them while my sister in law and I were inside putting lunch together. Suddenly I could hear my husband bark at my stepson to get out of the pool. Next I heard a muffled butt chewing right outside our back door (it was just off the kitchen). In comes Drew, fresh out of the pool and no towel in sight. As he traipses across the kitchen floor I find mysef getting annoyed that he is leaving puddles behind as he goes. Little did I know I should have been wishing the puddles were the only mess he would leave on my kitchen floor. Unbeknownst to me, Drew was having such a merry old time with his cousins in the pool that he couldn't be bothered with such civilities as coming in the house to use the bathroom. Nope. He crapped himself. I found this out when my husband grabbed Drew's arm to hurry him along through the kitchen, and jarred a turd loose...which in turn slithered out of his pants and onto my floor. My kitchen floor!!! Speachless. Slightly embarrassed. Conflicting feelings of aggravation and amusement all at once. That was me in the horrible seconds after it made its debut with a sickening little plop. Like I said, my brother in law and his wife have six kids...it would take much more than that to shock my SIL.

Flash forward to today. I am putting a Christmas movie on for Addyson when she goes bolting out of the room towards my bedroom. Her potty is in my bathroom, and this is a regular occurrence so I knew she would be hollaring for me to come and wipe her momentarily (I bet you think you know what happens). Maybe I go to wipe her and she has had an accident on the floor in there? Nope. She never calls me to wipe her. She just comes gallivanting back out to the living room. I am distracted with the DVD player, and absently tell her to go back in to the bathroom so I can wipe her bottom. She stays. She farts. She laughs. I say something like "oh that was really nice, Addyson." She thinks she is funny, she tries to fart again, and does. Still distracted I hadn't noticed something else had also escaped her precious little bottom. She tears out of the room to the bathroom wailing away. Crying? What did she do? I look down to the space on my carpet she had occupied not seconds before to see a little bitty poop. Does it get any better than this? Fortunately, it cleans right up without leaving a trace. I go in to wipe and console her. I explain that I am not mad...I know it was an accident. She stops crying. All's well that ends well.

Recently we had the battery in my car crap out on us. Very typical problem in Arizona. Batteries are lucky to last two years here.

It was Saturday (our family out to dinner and dessert night), and we were at Cold Stone Creamery. When we got in the car to leave, the car wouldn’t start. So, I said to Andy “let’s ask that woman if she will jump us.” We did, she tried, it failed.

Sparing the rest of the details…we got it all worked out with AAA and now have a 6 year warranty on a thousand hundred and fifty dollar battery.

Fast forward several weeks to today. Addyson and Colton are playing, and they decided to “drive” somewhere in their “car.” Addyson declares that the car won’t start. To Colton she says with authority “we need someone to jump up on us.”

Apparently it worked, because after that, their car started and they were on their way to get ice cream. I’ll have to remember that next time the car won’t start.

As their mom, I wish I could bottle up every moment with them. Each day they are just a little taller, they talk a little better, they walk a little quicker. Each day they are just a little closer to their own independence. Today, they are mine, and this moment is in a bottle.

Because it’s been a while…and because I like to share…

We were supposed to take the kids to a real pumpkin patch, and Andy even took a Monday off so we could do just that. Instead, the one we wanted to go to was closed on Monday. SO…we went to a little pumpkin stand right in town, and the kids were none the wiser. It just proves what Andy and I say all the time. What matters most to kids is not things, and it’s not places. It’s people. It’s love. It’s being together. So lucky that we have all of that.

My daughter has been in her toddler bed now for about a month or so. Really we have been fairly lucky. She stays in her bed when it's bedtime. But she is up much earlier than I would like. I think she has probably always woken early, but because she was in her crib, she would go back to sleep for a little bit. Now...no chance. Crack of dawn (I consider anything 6:30 or earlier the crack of dawn) and she is up and at 'em. Most mornings she comes in to our room and begins barking out her demands. Today I woke to "Pita chips, Mamma! My tummy feels hungry for pita chips." What?! Who the heck wakes up and says "yeah, I feel like I could eat some pita chips." My daughter, that's who.

So tonight, I put her to bed. Uneventful. Nothing out of the ordinary. I tuck her in, sing her the three required songs, kiss her good night then exit her room and quietly close the door behind me. Twenty minutes later, I hear her door open. Though at first I didn't know what it was, as this has never happened before. So I get up to investigate (insert horror movie music) and bump into her (not literally) in the the hallway. "I feel hot, Mamma. My head feels cold. I'm hot in my bed." So which is it? Is she hot or cold? I am confused because we went from 85 degree weather yesterday to 60 today. I go in and tuck her back in. All seems well again. Nope. Five minutes later, she comes out again. "There's a plane in my room, Mamma. My room is too noisy." Now this is getting ridiculous. I assure her there is no plane in her room, and that the only noise is that of her humidifier (which she has to have running for the white noise). I'm back in the living room not two minutes, and this time she comes out saying she has to pee. She did. Have to pee that is. I finally took her back to bed, explained that we have a playdate at the park tomorrow so she needs to rest well. She has not been out since. Trust me, that is a very good thing because if I hear about a plane in her room or that she is hot or cold one more time...I might lose the fragile grip I have had on my sanity today. For now...there is peace.

This past Sunday my Aunt's mother passed away. One of my cousins and I were talking about it, and we both had the same memory come to mind. P.I. (Aunt's Mom's initials) was shouting as we would ride by on our bicycles "E.T. phone home!" We would laugh hysterically at her kooky remark and ride by again to hear her repeat it. We were young kids then. We weren't very forgiving, and so we basically thought she was, well...kooky.

Now I am an adult with kids of my own, and to be honest I can still say that she was kooky. The difference is, today I will tell you I am too. When I remember P.I. now, I don't remember her for being kooky. I remember her for her generous heart, her forgiving nature, her quickness to befriend, her eagerness to smile and her love to laugh. She was a warm woman with a good soul, and she was my Aunt's mother.

It is impossible for me to process the despair my Aunt must feel at the loss of her mom. It was very sudden, and somehow that makes it worse. I think when we know the end is near, we can at least attempt to ready ourselves for the grief to come. But when a loved one is taken suddenly without warning, it hits like a freight train.

I know this all too well. When I was younger I lost one of my closest friends. There was an accident at work, he was badly injured and didn't make it out alive. Freight train. Devastation. Devastation for all of us who were left behind.

An entire year went by, and within it not a day was missed that I didn't ask God "why"? Why him? Why us? I still don't have the answers, but I no longer ask the quesitons. God knows...and for now that has to be enough.

So tonight my heart aches for my Aunt and the suffering she endures. I love her, but I can offer her no shelter in the storm. I know that only time will give her that. For on Sunday P.I. did phone home, and God told her it was time.