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| Cupcakey goodness. |
You're the best buddy EVER!Complete with happy squeal and big hug.
Made my day.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Feel-Good Quote of the Day
Made my day.
Dr. Auntie J, DSVM
Ever since we watched Disney's The Great Mouse Detective on our way to Gramma and Boppa's house a week ago, Medium Fry has been asking where "her" big doggie is.
Toby, who used to belong to my oldest nephew, is a big plush basset hound, the namesake of said character in The Great Mouse Detective. And he now belongs to Small Fry.
I unearthed a big stuffed beagle from Hubby's childhood days and gave him to Medium Fry so that she would have a big doggie too. At first, he was also Toby. These days, he answers to Bruno, the name of the faithful hound in Cinderella.
However, Medium being a small child, and thus doing small-child things like sticking fingers in holes found in stuffed animals, discovered a split in the seam on poor Bruno's back. And soon widened it.
I confiscated Bruno.
Followed quickly by confiscating the matching Portuguese Water Dogs from the Build-a-Bear Factory that belong to the twins, who had apparently not been zipped up tight enough for toddler hands. They were open now along the back seam, where their stuffing went in.
And there were two frogs, from my brother. Small Fry's had a loose-ish nose marking, a simple stitch of triple-strand embroidery floss. No doubt it was "helped" along in the loosening by Small Fry herself. Medium's frog had half a nose, because she'd pulled out one of the two strands. And a hole along the seam of the patch on the frog's belly. (What can you expect for $5?)
Plus a smaller stuffed frog of unknown origin but actually green in color (the other two were pink and purple, with embossed flowers in the fabric), suffering almost half a decapitation.
And, of course, Medium's little tiger and his aortic dissection (of sorts).
I pulled out my sewing kit, because I promised Medium at bedtime last night that I would fix her tiger. And Bruno.
And since I'm "operating" on two, might as well fix 'em all. I unearthed my sewing kit and got to work after the kids were in bed.
I felt the need to mutter something to myself about "Camp Patch-'Em-Up," and debated a Facebook status post with that reference, but not many people would get my rather vague M*A*S*H reference.
I can't help it if dialogue sticks with me. But that's another story.
Innyhoo...
After I returned these poor stuffed friends to their proper owners late last night, I proceeded to crash. I do not remember Hubby coming to bed. Despite my griping ankle, I hauled myself out of bed and staggimped (staggered + limped) down the hall for my morning constitutional, trailed by Large Fry. (Hubby being sick, I was charged with getting her on the bus.) While in there, not tending to personal business alone, the twin Fries woke up. As I'm washing my hands, Small and Medium appear in the bathroom doorway...arms overloaded with their mended friends.
Small happily squeals my name, grinning from ear to ear. "You fixed dem! Tankoo!"
I only wish I'd brought my phone to the bathroom with me, so I could have snapped a shot of her happy face and overflowing-with-friends arms.
Toby, who used to belong to my oldest nephew, is a big plush basset hound, the namesake of said character in The Great Mouse Detective. And he now belongs to Small Fry.
I unearthed a big stuffed beagle from Hubby's childhood days and gave him to Medium Fry so that she would have a big doggie too. At first, he was also Toby. These days, he answers to Bruno, the name of the faithful hound in Cinderella.
However, Medium being a small child, and thus doing small-child things like sticking fingers in holes found in stuffed animals, discovered a split in the seam on poor Bruno's back. And soon widened it.
I confiscated Bruno.
Followed quickly by confiscating the matching Portuguese Water Dogs from the Build-a-Bear Factory that belong to the twins, who had apparently not been zipped up tight enough for toddler hands. They were open now along the back seam, where their stuffing went in.
And there were two frogs, from my brother. Small Fry's had a loose-ish nose marking, a simple stitch of triple-strand embroidery floss. No doubt it was "helped" along in the loosening by Small Fry herself. Medium's frog had half a nose, because she'd pulled out one of the two strands. And a hole along the seam of the patch on the frog's belly. (What can you expect for $5?)
Plus a smaller stuffed frog of unknown origin but actually green in color (the other two were pink and purple, with embossed flowers in the fabric), suffering almost half a decapitation.
And, of course, Medium's little tiger and his aortic dissection (of sorts).
I pulled out my sewing kit, because I promised Medium at bedtime last night that I would fix her tiger. And Bruno.
And since I'm "operating" on two, might as well fix 'em all. I unearthed my sewing kit and got to work after the kids were in bed.
I felt the need to mutter something to myself about "Camp Patch-'Em-Up," and debated a Facebook status post with that reference, but not many people would get my rather vague M*A*S*H reference.
I can't help it if dialogue sticks with me. But that's another story.
Innyhoo...
After I returned these poor stuffed friends to their proper owners late last night, I proceeded to crash. I do not remember Hubby coming to bed. Despite my griping ankle, I hauled myself out of bed and staggimped (staggered + limped) down the hall for my morning constitutional, trailed by Large Fry. (Hubby being sick, I was charged with getting her on the bus.) While in there, not tending to personal business alone, the twin Fries woke up. As I'm washing my hands, Small and Medium appear in the bathroom doorway...arms overloaded with their mended friends.
Small happily squeals my name, grinning from ear to ear. "You fixed dem! Tankoo!"
I only wish I'd brought my phone to the bathroom with me, so I could have snapped a shot of her happy face and overflowing-with-friends arms.
A Tail of Two Pa'anis
Last night at bedtime, Hubby feeling like he was death warmed over and run aground by a truck, I took the Fries up to tuck them in.
I got the twins all snuggled in bed, their blankets on them in the right order, and kicked all the monsters out. I was finishing up hugs and smooches when Medium Fry spoke.
"My Pa'ani is scawred." She held up her stuffed kitten. "He needs you."
I gently took her little kitty and cradled him on my right hand and arm. I scratched his little head and told him there was nothing to be afraid of.
"But dewre's monstewrs. He's afwaid of monstewrs."
"Oh, but there are no monsters. I kicked them out, remember? And even the friendly ones are gone--they're at Gramma and Boppa's."
"Dewre's somesing outside dat scawred him."
"It's outside." I looked at the kitty and stroked his little fuzzy head reassuringly. "If it's outside, it can't get in. You're safe."
I started to hand her little Pa'ani back to her--so named because he looks an awful lot like our white/ginger tabby of the same name--but Medium stopped me.
"He wants to stay wif you fowr awhile. He wants you to pwotect him."
"Are you sure?" Sometimes she does change her mind about these things.
"Yes. He wants you."
"Okay." I prepared to head out once again, this time with a little Pa'ani cuddled against my neck.
Medium spoke my name again. "My wittle tigewr is scawred too."
Her little TY beanie tiger with the ridiculously huge green eyes looked up at me from her outstretched hand. "You're scared too?"
We almost went through the same litany, but then I realized her tiger had a little hole in the seam of his chest. In the end, both the tiger and the "baby Pa'ani" went back downstairs with me (along with a host of other animal friends who needed similar "surgery.")
I told you that story to tell you this one.
When I went to bed last night, I brought up all the successfully sewn-up stuffed friends, plus Medium's "little Pa'ani," and returned them to their rightful owners in the twin Fries' room. Medium stirred a little as I dropped the book I'd been carrying too, and I tucked Carla, her Build-a-Bear dog, next to her. She threw her arm over Carla and went right back to sleep. I also tucked in her little tiger and her little Pa'ani.
And I went to bed myself without further thought.
Somewhere in the murky light of almost-dawn, in the haze of 5-ish a.m. and bleary, sleepy eyes, I was startled awake. Not Koa, who has a history of yowling with a toy mouse clenched in her jaws, wanting to play at the most inopportune times (like when I want to sleep). No, it was Medium.
"Whattsamatter, honey?" I said. (I think. Or some variation thereof.)
She shoved her kitty into my face. "Pa'ani wants you."
And then she turned around, without another word, and went back to bed herself, making my, "Can you go back to bed now?" a bit redundant.
She was apparently even less awake than I was, because I needed to go down the hall to her room and put her blankets on her, because she couldn't quite figure out how to do it herself.
I got the twins all snuggled in bed, their blankets on them in the right order, and kicked all the monsters out. I was finishing up hugs and smooches when Medium Fry spoke.
"My Pa'ani is scawred." She held up her stuffed kitten. "He needs you."
I gently took her little kitty and cradled him on my right hand and arm. I scratched his little head and told him there was nothing to be afraid of.
"But dewre's monstewrs. He's afwaid of monstewrs."
"Oh, but there are no monsters. I kicked them out, remember? And even the friendly ones are gone--they're at Gramma and Boppa's."
"Dewre's somesing outside dat scawred him."
"It's outside." I looked at the kitty and stroked his little fuzzy head reassuringly. "If it's outside, it can't get in. You're safe."
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| Pa'ani Squared |
"He wants to stay wif you fowr awhile. He wants you to pwotect him."
"Are you sure?" Sometimes she does change her mind about these things.
"Yes. He wants you."
"Okay." I prepared to head out once again, this time with a little Pa'ani cuddled against my neck.
Medium spoke my name again. "My wittle tigewr is scawred too."
Her little TY beanie tiger with the ridiculously huge green eyes looked up at me from her outstretched hand. "You're scared too?"
We almost went through the same litany, but then I realized her tiger had a little hole in the seam of his chest. In the end, both the tiger and the "baby Pa'ani" went back downstairs with me (along with a host of other animal friends who needed similar "surgery.")
I told you that story to tell you this one.
When I went to bed last night, I brought up all the successfully sewn-up stuffed friends, plus Medium's "little Pa'ani," and returned them to their rightful owners in the twin Fries' room. Medium stirred a little as I dropped the book I'd been carrying too, and I tucked Carla, her Build-a-Bear dog, next to her. She threw her arm over Carla and went right back to sleep. I also tucked in her little tiger and her little Pa'ani.
And I went to bed myself without further thought.
Somewhere in the murky light of almost-dawn, in the haze of 5-ish a.m. and bleary, sleepy eyes, I was startled awake. Not Koa, who has a history of yowling with a toy mouse clenched in her jaws, wanting to play at the most inopportune times (like when I want to sleep). No, it was Medium.
"Whattsamatter, honey?" I said. (I think. Or some variation thereof.)
She shoved her kitty into my face. "Pa'ani wants you."
And then she turned around, without another word, and went back to bed herself, making my, "Can you go back to bed now?" a bit redundant.
She was apparently even less awake than I was, because I needed to go down the hall to her room and put her blankets on her, because she couldn't quite figure out how to do it herself.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Three.
Today is Memorial Day here in the States.
In my family, it’s got slightly more importance to us, simply because of the date the holiday falls upon.
Today, it’s three years.
Three years since Hubby, Dad and I woke at the crack of ugly early to pile into Dad’s van (now ours) and drive six and a half hours to a little Podunk town called Pulaski, VA.
Three years since we buckled three very little girls into carseats, popped a series of VeggieTales and Disney movie DVDs into the van’s player, and drove back to PA.
Three years since I stood in what used to be my dining room, became my toy room, and is now my living room, holding Small Fry in my arms, both of us in tears.
Three years since I felt the least heroic I’ve ever felt.
Three years since Po scared Small Fry.
Three years since Medium and Large Fries tried to crush Po in exuberance.
Three years since our cats decided they hated us for allowing these little invaders.
Three years since baby gates and diapers and sippy cups and high chairs and diaper bags and small toys and pack-n-plays and daily laundry became the norm.
Three years…since we became a family.
One thousand ninety-five days.
There are times it feels like one thousand ninety-five years.
But I am grateful for each and every one of those days. Because I have a family to celebrate them with. It’s a different sort of anniversary. And a very good excuse to eat cupcakes.
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| Large Fry |
To celebrate, we met up with Gramma and Boppa at the local municipal park, where we had a picnic lunch. (Complete with cupcakes.) And after that, we stood in line for nearly an HOUR in 95-degree heat and 80+% humidity to get into the municipal pool (which had inconveniently decided to change their rates, start charging for all children 5 and under—they were free last year—and didn’t have the new rates available online when I checked). Ever since Large Fry’s 5th birthday last summer, the Fries have been addicted to the bigger pool, so that’s where we—and the rest of the borough, it seemed—opted to hang out.
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| Medium Fry |
The kids had a marvelous time. We ran into Small Fry’s physical therapist from the first year the Fries were with us, who could not believe how big the girls had gotten and was thrilled to hear that we had finally won custody. (It was nice to catch up with her.) She could hardly believe that Small Fry now was the same (formerly) timid, cautious little toddler she’d worked with.
I apparently need SPF Bulletproof sunblock, because the SPF 50, despite reapplication, still left me rather rosy. (Okay, okay…a lot rosy.) The Fries, with their lovely shades of melanin, suffered much less, and came home sporting tan lines. Which, after three years, are still as comical to me as they were that first summer. Medium, having the lightest skin tone of the three, has some pink spots high on her cheeks, but in a few days, those will have faded to a nice tan.
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| Small Fry. Armed. Look out. |
We adults rotated in and out of the pool, but obviously not in and out enough with enough reapplications of SPF 50 to keep Hubby and me from getting burned. The Fries made friends with a couple of little girls just older than Large Fry, who determined I was their “dolphin” and played and hung out with me more than they did the Fries, after awhile. The water helped disguise my ankle’s crankiness until after I’d hauled the aforementioned seven-year-olds around the shallow pool for about five minutes, after being jumped on, grabbed, and shoved underwater (the last, gleefully done by Medium Fry…repeatedly).
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| Happy Fries. |
We finally left about 5:30ish, and came back home. We ordered pizza, ate it on the porch, and Hubby set up the globe sprinkler that Mom had found for us at The Christmas Tree Shop.
Mom and Dad headed for home after pizza, as the kids started in on the sprinkler fun.
It was a great day.
I have a great family.
I am grateful…for so very much.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Around the Neighborhood
Specifically, the view down my driveway this morning:
Why, yes. That IS a man standing waist-deep in our street, right at the end of my driveway.
And more of this fun tomorrow.
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| "Uncle! Dey'wre putting a hole in ouwr wroad!" ~Medium Fry |
Why, yes. That IS a man standing waist-deep in our street, right at the end of my driveway.
And more of this fun tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Payroll Tuesday
It's payroll day.
Usually, this is the day I tear my hair out, because I'm missing a whole slew of stuff to finish off the final details before I can send the final report to my boss, who then sends it out to the payroll management company.
I spent nearly all of yesterday sequestered up in my bedroom, working on making sure I had as much done as possible before emailing the list of missing information to the office staff. (I work 350 miles from the scene of the crime. We communicate a lot by email.) Today won't be quite so bad, since I'm usually done by noonish. (Heavier on the -ish some weeks, but that's about right.)
The office faxes a lot of stuff to me, too. I have a fax-to-email protocol, and when the fax popped in this morning, I was actually happy to see it, because it meant I could eliminate a few more things before playing wait-and-see on the rest. (There must have been something in the water this pay period, because I had three times as many unverified shifts as I normally do.) I wasn't nearly as thrilled when I realized it was 24 pages long. Oy.
Thankfully, my printer is networked wirelessly. I'm able to print without having to go downstairs and connect directly by USB cable. However, I do not have a magic wand anymore; they confiscated that when I flunked out of Fairy Godmother School. Which means I usually have to go down and get my printed materials. And 24 pages tends to overflow the receiving tray on the printer, and since the printer sits on my desk in the living room, five feet off the floor, paper winds up everywhere.
But wait! I have children!
And a cool husband, who rescued my printouts.
I had actually forgotten (temporarily) that I was printing things, because I turned off the annoying audible alerts for my printer, when I heard small feet pounding down the hallway. Both twins burst into my bedroom, shrieking happy greetings.
"Speciawl delivewree!" Medium said with glee, handing me a fistful of papers.
How awesome is that!
I got hugs and they went back downstairs. And I'm supposedly going back to work.
Usually, this is the day I tear my hair out, because I'm missing a whole slew of stuff to finish off the final details before I can send the final report to my boss, who then sends it out to the payroll management company.
I spent nearly all of yesterday sequestered up in my bedroom, working on making sure I had as much done as possible before emailing the list of missing information to the office staff. (I work 350 miles from the scene of the crime. We communicate a lot by email.) Today won't be quite so bad, since I'm usually done by noonish. (Heavier on the -ish some weeks, but that's about right.)
The office faxes a lot of stuff to me, too. I have a fax-to-email protocol, and when the fax popped in this morning, I was actually happy to see it, because it meant I could eliminate a few more things before playing wait-and-see on the rest. (There must have been something in the water this pay period, because I had three times as many unverified shifts as I normally do.) I wasn't nearly as thrilled when I realized it was 24 pages long. Oy.
Thankfully, my printer is networked wirelessly. I'm able to print without having to go downstairs and connect directly by USB cable. However, I do not have a magic wand anymore; they confiscated that when I flunked out of Fairy Godmother School. Which means I usually have to go down and get my printed materials. And 24 pages tends to overflow the receiving tray on the printer, and since the printer sits on my desk in the living room, five feet off the floor, paper winds up everywhere.
But wait! I have children!
And a cool husband, who rescued my printouts.
I had actually forgotten (temporarily) that I was printing things, because I turned off the annoying audible alerts for my printer, when I heard small feet pounding down the hallway. Both twins burst into my bedroom, shrieking happy greetings.
"Speciawl delivewree!" Medium said with glee, handing me a fistful of papers.
How awesome is that!
I got hugs and they went back downstairs. And I'm supposedly going back to work.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Why Bill Cosby Is So Brilliant
From my college chaplain Mike Schutz:
Always liked The Cosby Show....
Then the Spirit blew in, "Have you seen what is going on down there?" "We know, we know," Jesus and the Father replied together. "Idiots," said the Spirit, under her breath.
The Father started looking through His files. "Where is that file... of Cosby quotes?" Both Jesus and the Spirit started laughing. "I bet I know the one you're looking for," said Jesus. Then the Spirit, in her best Huxtable voice, said, "I brought you into this world, and I'll take you out!"
Always liked The Cosby Show....
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