Friends keep asking how I’m doing with Blaine gone. I keep saying I’m fine. Blaine spent a lot of time getting things set up around here so this month would go smoothly.
This morning I started pouring Cheerios in my coffee.
Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought.
Ruby liked it. Obviously. She even added a bit to her hair. You know, for color.
As did Charlotte.
And now that she’s soaked in the tub for a bit, I’m going to go see if I can chisel her cheeks free…
Ruby and Sterling were arguing. Sterling stated he didn’t like supper. Ruby insisted he did. That was an interesting conversation. (Amazingly enough, Sterling ate it anyway. Turns out, not eating lunch – because he didn’t like what I made – makes him very hungry!)
Why, when I leave the room because I cannot hear my phone conversation, do they follow me?
Charlotte sat in her chair, finished with her supper hollering, “Tee Tee! Tee Tee!” So glad she’s so dependent on Liberty. She didn’t yell for Momma.
I made popcorn last night. Usually Blaine makes popcorn on Sunday nights – it’s my night “off”. I was told my popcorn was better – it had more salt and butter. We all sat in the living room and ate it. This morning my hardwood floor had an impressive sheen. Thinking Daddy’s less-buttered popcorn does me a favor in the world of over-shined floors.
Sterling told me goodnight twice last night. “The second time I’m going to pretend you are Daddy.”
How does sleeping in one hour late put me three hours behind all day?
I found a whistle in the sandbox. Ruby found it later. Getting a mouth full of sand didn’t slow her down. I now have sand blown onto my freshly oiled floors… she must have thought a little grit was necessary to prevent slipping.
Can I saw how thankful I am for friends from church? A big crockpot of spaghetti was dropped off today – enough for leftovers for tomorrow too. It was wonderful. Even Sterling likes it. Ruby says so.
In honor of Pierce’s 3 month and one week birthday, some photos.
He’s 15 pounds, growing some impressive eyelashes (and eyebrows)
happy (part of the time) when he’s held or swinging
and far larger than any of my other babies at three months old.
It’s crazy.
He likes to sleep in my bed, and rarely cooperates with the “back to sleep in your own bed” plan. Because, after all, it’s really, really hard to nurse all night long from there.
He’s so not my first baby.
A long time ago, when I had just one, I was horrified when a father of nine told me that their ninth was sleeping in their bed. He said you just relax about these things. I thought never, never would I allow a baby to sleep in my bed. That’s not what the books say to do. It’s not what the pediatrician says to do. It’s just wrong.
I was wrong.
Ruby informed me this morning “If I hugged you really tight on your neck and you couldn’t breathe you would die.”
“Yes, I suppose that could happen. But it would have to be a really long hug,” I replied.
“Then I’d have to buy a new mommy.”
So glad to know I’m easily replaced.
Brady used to keep the area under the kitchen table clean. Then I bought lamb and rice food for her and she got picky. When the 5 lb. dog goes through one 40 lb. bag of dog food a year, I could justify the good stuff.
No longer. Next time, it’s Ol’ Roy. Maybe then the table scraps lovingly supplied by the kids would be more desirable.
In the meantime, I love to see Blaine’s cringe when I call for Brady when Pierce spits. Oh, it makes me laugh. I refuse to call it gross after seeing what the dog chews on outside.
How’s that for a glimpse inside the walls of this house? Oh dear.
