Don't Use the Word Fat!

I had a tough realization the other day. (So put your serious faces on, but don't worry. There will be funny things later.) Have you seen my Katie? She's tall and skinny like her dad--mostly legs. If she keeps these proportions she could be a supermodel. She's even got the eyelashes for it. Not to brag or anything, but this girl's got magic genes. (Which she got from her dad.)

But the other day she put on a pull-up before nap time (oh, and we're potty training. It's so much fun. Not.) and then pulled her pants over them, looked in the mirror, and said, "Now I look fat in my bummy."

Oh sweet mercy.

I realized that my uncontrollable self esteem problems are affecting my daughter. She has heard me refer to myself as fat and thought to use that word to describe herself. And she's two.

I have never found it easy to think positively about myself. And I've only recently started being open about my depression issues and such. Do you want to know why? (Why I'm being open about them, not why I wasn't before.) Because it's affecting my family. When I am not happy, none of my children are happy. When I think bad things about myself, my daughter starts saying she looks fat in her bummy.

I know what you're thinking. "Yes, diapers do make your bum larger. She's just probably thinking that it looks bigger." And you're right. The thing that makes me upset is that she knows the word fat. Because of me. And it needs to stop.

Okay, you can take off your serious faces now and I'll tell you the funny things from my notebook. Which is WAY less convenient than a sticky note, because it's also my important things notebook and I usually have it open to a different page so I forget to write down ridiculous things that my daughter says.

First of all, this house has been hit by a My Little Pony craze. Mike saw it on Netflix one Saturday morning while they were letting me sleep in with the boys (Hallelujah!) and randomly decided to try it so they could take a break from Curious George (which has been Katie's favorite morning cartoon for . . . forever). And apparently now we're hooked. It has become a bonding thing. In fact, we're using it to potty train! Katie's already filled up her sticker chart and now all she has to do is poop in the potty and we get to find a Rainbow Dash. Yeah, we're cool parents.

Here's an example. We're Skyping my mom, and Katie is telling her how much she loves Rainbow Dash, and my mom starts grilling me. (It's practically Christmas, after all.) So I tell her Katie likes Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle (are you getting an idea of what kind of show this is?) but she's not really that into Fluttershy. And then Mike pipes in from the kitchen, "That's because Fluttershy is lame!" Yes, this is my big, strong, manly husband.

Another thing that has made me giggle recently is the way Katie tells stories these days. She's two and a half, right? Well, she's got a pretty impressive memory for a kid her size. She remembers things from, like, a year ago. And they're usually things we haven't mentioned recently. But still, she's only got 2 1/2 years of experience under her belt, probably 1 1/2 tops in her memory (and that's pushing it).

But every time she tells us a story, whether it's from yesterday or last winter or it's totally made up, she begins with either, "When I was a young girl" or "When I was a little kid." What? For example, the other day she sees me popping this weird zit I got on my hand from all my dry skin (and don't worry, it's not a staph infection--it's not painful or coming back). And she puts on her serious face and says, "When I was a young girl, I got rid of my zit."

She seems obsessed recently with stages of life. Besides talking about when she was a young girl, she also tells me all the time about what she's going to do when she's a grown-up. (i.e. go to the potty without a stool or her sesame street potty seat).  But so far my favorite has been, "When I'm a naked grown-up, I'll have all my bones and they won't be growing!"

Okay, one more Katie quote. Today during nap time, I fell asleep with the boys. I wake up to Katie patting my arm, and she tells me, "It's okay, Mom. I'm protecting you from the bad guys. See this big house? And there are no bad guys? I scared away all the bad guys." I feel so safe now.

Now we will finish with an important announcement: The boys are rolling! So, Peter's been teasing us for a few weeks, flipping his legs and hips over but not being able to get his big 'ole head to flip. So I totally thought he'd go first. But, no. Last Friday afternoon I laid them on a blanket, went to check on the laundry, and when I got back, Josh was on his stomach. And laying in a puddle of puke, but that's a different story. Yay Josh!

Later that same day, I laid them on a blanket so I could make dinner (or something). Not to be outdone, Peter rolled onto his stomach. And back. And on his stomach. And back again. And now he can roll everywhere like a log. They're pretty proud of their new skills. Unfortunately, though, while Peter can just flip around and be however he wants, Josh can only go back to front. And he can't control the urge to do it. And then he gets stuck there until his back gets tired or I notice that he's angry. And if I'm in the bathroom or otherwise unable to get to him, he yells for a bit, then gives up and just lies flat on the ground. It's really pitiful and pathetic and adorable at the same time.

The result of all this is that I never know where or in what position I'll find them in if I have to leave them alone on the floor for a second. They've been able to rotate around like little clock hands for a while, and Josh has been perfecting his manly leg muscles by rocketing himself backward across the floor until he bonks his head on the wall, but now they can roll. So there has been a lot of Peter sucking on Josh's toes or Josh kneeing Peter in the kidney or one of them chewing on the other one's ear. (Oh, and they've gotten really into ear-pulling recently. Weird.) And if one of them wants to roll, but there's a brother in the way, he'll just roll anyway and squish aforementioned brother. And then they'll both be uncomfortable and screeching at each other (yes, at each other) until I separate them.

I think I can see my future. Pray for me.

But when they're not somehow pummeling each other, they're totally interacting. This morning when I heard them wake up from their nap and went into their room, they were turned toward each other in their crib and they were both laughing. Apparently I missed the joke.

Sticky-note Post

First order of business:

Second order of business:

The sticky-note. Which is actually a notebook now, because I really just don't know where my sticky-notes are.

Me: Hey Katie, what do you call a cat that drinks lemonade?
Katie: Cats don't drink lemonade, silly Mommy!

Katie: Can you put this book back together? It's importment!

When I was nursing the boys, I noticed that Katie had pulled her shirt up and was holding her baby doll to her chest.
Me: Katie, what are you doing?
Katie: I'm feeding a baby on my guts!

(While I was singing Phantom of the Opera in the kitchen, admittedly with an affected operatic soprano.)
Katie: *gasp!* What was that sound?
Mike: That was Mommy singing in the kitchen.
Katie: No, the one that was like a sheep. Baaaaah!

Katie: I always ride in my seat belt!
Me: That's right, because your seat belt keeps you safe.
Katie: Right! From lions, and tigers, and bears.

Third order of business:

We're trying something new. Because many of you have been attempting to comment and not being successful, I tried to look at my settings. And the settings on blogger are lying to me. So we're going to try the moderation option, where comments come to my email first and then I approve them. Not that I'm going to censor anybody, but it's just not working and maybe that might. We'll see.

Stay tuned for more ridiculous hilarity!

Why I should probably be more responsible than a second-grader

My mom said that to me today. She was expressing frustration that my little brother has taken two days to clean his room. Then there was an awkward pause, as I was lying on my own bed (hiding from the sleeping babies) looking around at the giant chaotic monster that is my bedroom, and which has been like that for the last . . . oh, forever. I guess technically I've only had that bedroom for 2 1/2 weeks, but I mostly just transplanted the mess from my last bedroom. I'm not proud of it.

What I am proud of is my level of motivation. I'm totally writing a book. But you don't get to read it. So don't ask. Maybe someday.

I'm also proud of my ability to go out in public with my children by myself. We go on walks regularly (also because we have walking paths and ponds and stuff next to our house and who can resist baby ducks?) Also, last week I took them all to the grocery store, entirely by myself. And I learned some things.

Here are some things that I love:

-My children

-When I have happy, content, non-whiny children

-When people admire my happy, content, non-whiny, adorable children

-When people admire me for having such happy, content, non-whiny, adorable children

These things all happened at the grocery store last week, which proves to me that prayer works. (Seriously, I was geared up for the worst taking all three of them.) But there's something else that happened that I don't love: when we were walking up to the store, with one baby strapped to my chest, another in his carseat in the main basket of the cart, and Katie sitting in the child seat of the cart, and another lady walked out of the store. She saw us, raised her eyebrows, and said, "Wow. Just, wow."

But you know what? I think I do love it. Because all those people who raise their eyebrows at me when they see all my babies are really just jealous. They don't have a kid running laps around them while we go for a walk, then suddenly stopping just to hug them around the knees and say, "You're the best, mom!" They don't have the most adorable twins that have ever existed, and who giggle and grin and start doing windmill arms whenever you get within eyesight.

I definitely have it good. I have beautiful, intelligent, healthy children, my husband is going to be a doctor, and we have a really amazing ward and place to live while we raise these children and turn Mike into a doctor. And someday we're going to have a yard. But for now, I'm okay with having the neighborhood take care of the grass and such. Really, it's okay with me.

Okay, enough emotions.

You know what I've noticed? I have a very strong affinity for Dunkin' Donuts. Mike and my mom have both commented that Dunkin' really isn't that spectacular. There are other donuts which are equally as good. But my dad has instilled in me this strong desire for Boston Creams and Chocolate Honey-Glazed donuts which can never be abated. And I really think it has something to do with how far away and unavailable they've been my whole life. Also because they're more dense and delicious than, say, Krispy Kremes, which are mostly just air with sugar poured on top. (Really, I've never understood why those are so popular.)

Also, I am not doing so hot with the whole exercise-and-eat-healthy-to-lose-weight thing. I think the whole nursing-twins thing is covering my behind, but as soon as these boys are weaned? Oh boy. I'm going to be a balloon. That whole self esteem boost that I had right after the twins were born is starting to wane and I think I need to get more serious about this whole working out thing. Any ideas? Katie is pretty good at encouraging me, but she gets rather easily distracted.

I had more thoughts, but I don't remember what they were. Also, Josh is starting to wake up, which means I should go feed him and make dinner. Because I'm all domestic now and actually make real dinner all the time, which I haven't done in like . . . a year? At least.

Tootles!

Ready to Learn, to Get Some Knowledge!

Mike just called me after finishing his second day of classes.  (Not that he's coming home yet, because studying on campus is definitely the place to be.) Do you know how weird that is? My husband is a med student.

And because he was starting school yesterday, I decided there were some traditions we needed to uphold.

Katie was supposed to be smiling, but there was a bug on the step.

Yeah, I know. We're the coolest people ever. (And I did NOT eat the rest of the blue frosting that was in the piping bag. It was obviously an elf or something . . .)

The only thing I'm going to say that's negative is that Peter cut his first tooth yesterday. Great for him, pretty uncomfortable for me. And he and Josh are both drooling like maniacs.

But for the rest of this post, we're going to be talking about the road trip we took to get here (and quite a substantial road trip it was).

In fact, I'm not really going to talk. Except for captions.

Oh wait! Story first. Remember this post back in February, when I had a double baby shower with my friend Valerie, who was expecting twin girls? Well . . . we may have set our kids up on a date.

Josh, Jemma, Peter, Gia

When we first put them all on the blanket, Josh was totally asleep, so Jemma tried to go for Peter instead. Unfortunately, Gia was already chewing on him. And Peter was totally lovin' it. ("Yeah, girls! Right on!")

We decided the date should be over when Gia started getting fresh and grabbing Peter's knee.

Okay, now for road trip pictures.

I meant to take a picture of every state sign we passed, but . . . it was always nighttime or a raging thunderstorm. But here's when we left Idaho!

"Look at me! I'm gonna go touch the butte!" -- Sarah, my very wise and mature sister

We did not plan this at a random stop in Wyoming.

"Mom! I saw a giant naked head at the pharmacy!" -- Katie

Katie cared more about dirt than lunch.

Peter has been gaining weight recently.

It's in Nebraska, in case you need a cool place to go.

In case you need one.

This is apparently the Iowa border. I didn't see any real signs . . .

I found Hobbiton. It's in Iowa.

This is really what our trip looked like. Millions of these things. (Also, this picture is not edited. Muahaha.)

This was a big deal.

Everyone did their part!

A ceremonial picture of the last box to leave the truck . . .

A trip to the city was mostly sitting in traffic and getting lost, but still cool. 

This is the whole reason Sarah came to Chicago.

That last picture requires more than a caption. See, I had an appointment set for Thursday night to turn our gas meter on. When we knew we weren't going to be there until Friday, I called the gas company, but their next available appointment was for Monday morning. So for church on Sunday, most of us got cold showers (and boy was I awake!) Katie, however, got a sink tubby full of microwaved water (I also have a gas stove). Fairly sure she was the only one who enjoyed her bathing experience.

Well, so far we love it here. We have an awesome ward, we have already had a playdate (with a Katie-aged girl and her little twin siblings!), and we have directions to weekly "park day" with the other moms and little kids in the ward. I think we're going to have fun here.