Drum Roll, Please…

Some random tidbits, done drum roll style…

– Ana is (drum roll) so totally not afraid of Charlie. I worried that she wouldn’t take to him, especially as he gets bigger, but she’s learned that saying, “Nein, Charlie!” will get him to stop just about whatever he’s doing that might scare her. (Charlie, for his part, has learned that you just don’t mess with the high-strung preschooler and actually obeys her.) In the above picture, Ana is giving a demonstration of her dog whispering abilities… or just striking a pose after said demonstration. I’m not sure which. You see how excited Charlie is to be taking orders from a three year old. So excited that he’s ready to nap. (And, yes, all of Charlie’s commands are given in German. This prevents him from being confused when we give our girls directions, which are, believe it or not, pretty similar to dog commands. Sit. Come. No. Seriously, think about it.)

– We’ve started a “Vacation Meter” for the girls. We know about how much we’ll need to save for a 2011 vacation, so I drew a “meter,” colored in what we made at the garage sale, and explained to Ana and Emma that when we color in the whole thing, we’ll be able to go to (drum roll) Walt Disney World. I told them that on days when they choose to come home after church and eat what we already have instead of picking up a pizza, we can save the money and color in more of the meter. I’m hoping that this will teach them a little bit about money, but so far, Em’s response has showed a certain lack of understanding — “We color to the top today, Mommy, and GO TO WALT DISNEY WORLD!!!” Wouldn’t that be wonderful? If coloring just made the money suddenly appear? I’d have all kinds of meters on our fridge then — the mortgage meter, the retirement meter, the college fund meter…

– Charlie is (drum roll) housetrained. Or maybe we’re the ones who are trained. He comes up to me, whines, sits on his back legs, and I jump up and sprint out the door with him so that he can have some company while he does his business. (Okay, so I’m totally the one who’s trained in this relationship.) He’s now up to 22 pounds, worm-free (woo-hoo!), and running two miles a day. And, frankly, he just looks good. He knows it, too, and frequently strikes a pose whilst prancing around the yard, just showing off how sleek and trim and HUGE he’s becoming. (BC can still take him, though. Mainly because he’s big enough now that she can run right up underneath him and throw him off balance. Clever girl.)

– Emma is (drum roll) not at all potty trained. What?! Yeah, I thought we were preparing ourselves for a victory lap in the potty training marathon, but Em must have missed the memo because she’s had several accidents here lately. One particular day was worse than all the others combined and included an incident where she sat on her bed in wet training pants and an exclamation of the most dreaded of all proclamations from Ana, “Emma poo pooed in the bathtub!” I hadn’t seen evidence of this myself until Ana began shreiking, “SCARY POO POO!” (It was indeed scary. Especially for super-clean, OCD Ana, who was in the tub with her nasty sister.) Emma was not in the least bit upset by all of this and was more concerned about telling me that she wasn’t DONE yet. As I told Wes, this particular day was not the best day of my life. They say into every life some poo must fall, and I got more than my fair share that day. But enough about that. I only share this story so that those of you who aren’t having stellar results in the potty training arena with your own children — hey, at least you can read this and say to yourself, “Praise God that MY child hasn’t defiled the bathtub!” And for giving you this new reason to praise Him, I say simply that you are VERY welcome. No need to thank me!

– We’ve been having a study on the tabernacle at our church this week. Sunday was a great opening day… except, of course, for the second service when Emma felt compelled to giggle and shriek through a good portion of the teaching. (And, y’all, I just cannot keep a straight face when that girl starts giggling. I was fighting back the giggles myself, looking at her adorable little smile, while still feeling irritated that I was missing almost everything the speaker was saying. How is that possible? To feel both intense love and supreme annoyance all at once? I don’t know, but it is.) The sessions for the weeknights were scheduled to be longer and extend into the girls’ bedtime, so I decided to keep them at home until Wednesday night, which is normally a late night for us anyway. When we took a break halfway through Wednesday’s presentation, Wes helped me to take the girls out to the car so that I could take them home in plenty of time to get them ready for bed. Wes put Ana in her seat but had to hurry back for the second half and told her that I would buckle her in. And thus began (drum roll) the weeping and wailing. Apparently, Ana has been under a serious amount of stress over the absence of her Papi this week. He’s seen them in the morning, but when he’s come home after lunch, they’ve been napping. Just about the time they wake up from their naps, he’s had to go back to the church, and by the time he’s gotten home, they’ve been asleep. Ana couldn’t be consoled until Wes came back to the car, fastened her buckle for her, and gave her a good night kiss. Then, she still managed to moan and groan about him being gone the whole drive home. I only mention it to say this — let your pastor know you appreciate him. We have a great group of folks at our church who are so faithful to thank Wes, but I know there have got to be so many pastors out there who sacrifice things that they can’t get back (ie, time with their very dramatic three year olds) in order to serve and are NEVER thanked. So, thank your pastor if you get a chance.

– Remember how I was writing a book? Yeah, well, I put it aside for a month, thinking that it was complete garbage and that it would never work itself all out. Today, on a whim, I decided to get back into it and just read what I had written. There was too much to read in one day, but what I did read left me with one thought. (Drum roll!) It’s not half bad. It’s not Pulitzer material and likely not even worth publishing, but it wasn’t garbage. And if that’s not a glowing recommendation, I don’t know what is. I’m going to start working on it again and might even (gasp!) let someone read it when I’m done. Someone like Wes or my mom, who will pretend to like it no matter how bad it is. (Because we don’t want to wound the old ego, you know.)

– And with that, I think it’s almost time for our weekend to start. Pastors work on Sundays (obviously), so Fridays are a day off, at least for Wes and at least some of the time. (Funerals and hospital emergencies happen when they happen, so he works when they do, day off or not.) This weekend, we’re looking forward to (drum roll) doing absolutely nothing, which will be a welcome change after a busy week. Ahh… Can’t believe that this Saturday is May 1st!

How about you? Any fun plans for the weekend?

2 thoughts on “Drum Roll, Please…

  1. Shannon says:

    Well, since you asked, we are spring cleaning as much of the house as is humanly possible in one day and (drum roll) making some of our decorations for Daddy's homecoming. šŸ™‚ COME ON, MAY!

    Can I just say how much I love the way you write?! Because I do. šŸ™‚

    Like

  2. Pami says:

    Weekend plans? Moving to Hawaii.

    I laughed so hard I cried about the poo story. It reminded me of a recent opportunity to see the 12 year old version of a little boy who was two when I watched him in the church nursery when I was in college. I decided it would be best if I didn't talk to him, because I might tell him about the horrible explosive poo he had at church one time.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s