Ahh, yes. The time for tears has come. For me, that is. Isabella is fine. She's more than fine. She is ready for big girl school! I don't know what or how, but in the last two weeks, she has started reading and her drawings have become much more meaningful and detailed.
Is this what happens when a child is about to enter big school? It makes me so joyful for her and sad for me. IzzyB is definitely no longer a baby and I know that elementary school will only catapult her further into being a big kid. I know that iCarly and Hannah Montana loom in the distance. I've shielded her from all that crap as long as I could. However, now she will be in a school that varies in ages from 5 to 12. EEK!
Ava is super jealous. She has two more years of pre-k before she too heads to big school. The difference between a first born and a second is incredible. Ava is a very mature 3 1/2 year old. Anything Bella can do, she thinks she can do better. I'm not about to discourage her but good grief, she's my last baby and already she wants a school uniform and first reader books!
The girls have had a fantastic summer full of love, friendship, spit and fire. Sisterhood. Fortunately, they love each other FAR more than they dislike each other. There is a definite individualism sprouting with the two of them. Yes, they can play together for hours, but then there is Ava shutting us out of her room while she changes clothes. Or Bella, hiding keepsakes in special places in her room and requesting that NO ONE even bother to guess what or where.
Privacy.
Does it begin this early? Apparently so. We generally have a no shut door policy but if a girl wants to change into her princess pjs in private, I think she should have the right to do just that. Ava is almost embarrassed to ask me to wipe her behind for her, but thankfully she'd still rather do that than end up with skidmarks in her day of the week undies.
Bella regressed for a couple of weeks this summer. Pre-6 year old birthday. Maybe she too was realizing that she was beginning a new chapter in her life. For a while, she requested that we carry her, brush her teeth, give her our earlobe to rub (remember that from years past?).
Then she learned to swim. On her own. With nary a floatie within reach. Freedom. And she loved it. For two weeks, she learned how to take care of herself and I could see progress daily with her confidence and self-esteem. When the instructor said she was good enough to be on a swim team, Bella beamed up at him and then at me, her face full of pride and accomplishment.
My Kindergartener. Sure, she could've gone to K last year as a very young, immature 5 year old. But listening to that inner voice of parenting wisdom and the love of her pre-k teachers, we decided to wait until she was 6. And it is truly one of the best things we ever did for our formerly timid, insecure child.
Bella is ready. And so am I. Let the adventures begin!!
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Pants On Fire
Oh, my goodness, I am such a liar! I said I'd start blogging again and posted 3 times. Sheesh. You'd think life is busy or something.
We're ending the school year. I have so many mixed feelings about it. Bella is starting Kindergarten in the fall. What? Why? She doesn't help matters with the fact that she is totally into Barbie and wants to wear all of her shirts off the shoulder. Seriously. It is almost a daily battle. How do you tell a nearly 6 year old that you simply don't want her to look like a slut?
We finally compromised on bathing suits. She can NOT have a bikini, but we will allow a tankini. And toenails can be painted shades of pink but we draw the line at hot pink.
Bella's taste in friends is going from rough n' tumble boys with imaginations to girly girls with giant bows and frilly skirts who discuss those rough n' tumble boys with mock disgust.
Oh my, are we in for a long ride.
Following close at her heels is baby sister who is no longer a baby. Ava insists that everyone know she is three AND A HALF. Nothing less is acceptable. She mimics her sister in every way but adds her own flair. And sass. I can still pick out Bella's clothes with her but Ava wants to do it all by herself. I should really post some of the outfits my child puts together. She's good! Ava is all about finding colors in clothes that match but has no qualms about mixing prints and layering. My little trendsetter *beaming*
We so adore my girls. We're a little sad to be done with having children, but not TOO sad. We have balance in the family with the 4 of us. Well, technically, my husband and dog Zeus are outnumbered even more considering we just got two female Betta fish, but he's absolutely happy with that. Zeus would just be happy to eat the fish, no matter their gender.
I used to love blogging and looking back over the years, I've enjoyed reading about moments in our life that I haven't thought of. So, I will really try to return more often. I know that I would've loved if my mom had kept a journal of our life...all the good and the bad.
See you soon! And I'm not lying this time!
We're ending the school year. I have so many mixed feelings about it. Bella is starting Kindergarten in the fall. What? Why? She doesn't help matters with the fact that she is totally into Barbie and wants to wear all of her shirts off the shoulder. Seriously. It is almost a daily battle. How do you tell a nearly 6 year old that you simply don't want her to look like a slut?
We finally compromised on bathing suits. She can NOT have a bikini, but we will allow a tankini. And toenails can be painted shades of pink but we draw the line at hot pink.
Bella's taste in friends is going from rough n' tumble boys with imaginations to girly girls with giant bows and frilly skirts who discuss those rough n' tumble boys with mock disgust.
Oh my, are we in for a long ride.
Following close at her heels is baby sister who is no longer a baby. Ava insists that everyone know she is three AND A HALF. Nothing less is acceptable. She mimics her sister in every way but adds her own flair. And sass. I can still pick out Bella's clothes with her but Ava wants to do it all by herself. I should really post some of the outfits my child puts together. She's good! Ava is all about finding colors in clothes that match but has no qualms about mixing prints and layering. My little trendsetter *beaming*
We so adore my girls. We're a little sad to be done with having children, but not TOO sad. We have balance in the family with the 4 of us. Well, technically, my husband and dog Zeus are outnumbered even more considering we just got two female Betta fish, but he's absolutely happy with that. Zeus would just be happy to eat the fish, no matter their gender.
I used to love blogging and looking back over the years, I've enjoyed reading about moments in our life that I haven't thought of. So, I will really try to return more often. I know that I would've loved if my mom had kept a journal of our life...all the good and the bad.
See you soon! And I'm not lying this time!
Monday, February 01, 2010
Always Learning
The upside to a mild UTI for a 5 year old? She figures out the pause button on the TV remote pretty quickly.
For those of you who don't like to rely on antibiotics, I have been very pleased with D-Mannose in treating Bella's UTI.
D-Mannose is a natural occurring simple sugar that's a safe, practical alternative (even for infants) for the treatment of urinary tract infections. D-Mannose is absorbed eight times slower than glucose, and when ingested, is not converted to glycogen or stored in the liver, but rather goes directly to the blood stream from the upper GI tract. Hence, D-Mannose is mostly filtered through the kidneys and routed to the bladder.
It is also 10x stronger than cranberry which is great because Bella refuses cranberry in any shape or form.
I don't consider myself "alternative" or a hippie, but I do like having options for my family's health and well-being!
Happy Monday!
For those of you who don't like to rely on antibiotics, I have been very pleased with D-Mannose in treating Bella's UTI.
D-Mannose is a natural occurring simple sugar that's a safe, practical alternative (even for infants) for the treatment of urinary tract infections. D-Mannose is absorbed eight times slower than glucose, and when ingested, is not converted to glycogen or stored in the liver, but rather goes directly to the blood stream from the upper GI tract. Hence, D-Mannose is mostly filtered through the kidneys and routed to the bladder.
It is also 10x stronger than cranberry which is great because Bella refuses cranberry in any shape or form.
I don't consider myself "alternative" or a hippie, but I do like having options for my family's health and well-being!
Happy Monday!
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Life's Stories
I find life to be full of surprises, mostly funny, though sometimes not. I also find that we human beings aren't as different from each other as we think we like to think are.
Everyone has a story. Everyone likes to share their story. I have to mentally make myself shut up from telling my stories simply because someone has told me theirs and I might have one similar. Sometimes I can hardly stand to be quiet cuz my stories seem so funny to me and I want others to laugh along. Is that ego or just wanting to connect with others?
That's why I blog. I can tell all the stories I want! Even those that I had to shut up about earlier in the day.
My brother is in Breckenridge, CO for his first ever ski experience. He's really excited but has no clue what's in store for him. I've asked him to take pics (he's already texted one to me) and remember all the gory details of learning to ski.
Because MY ski experience was a complete disaster! I look back on it now and laugh but at the time I was thoroughly pissed.
We went on our honeymoon to the gorgeous mountains of Whistler Blackcomb, BC, Canada. It is where the 2010 winter Olympics are being held for cryin out loud. I had no business skiing for the first time THERE. Nonetheless, hubby and I wanted to do something fun and a little crazy for our honeymoon. That seemed to fit the bill.
Whistler is absolutely beautiful and serene. Driving up through the mountains on the side of cliffs was breathtaking. Watching a small boulder narrowly miss us as it fell from the cliff was a wee bit life threatening.
We stayed in a fabulous townhome we'd rented, complete with a private hot tub outdoors. Perfect for honeymooners but, even more importantly, medically necessary for a beginner skiier in Whistler.
The morning started out great. I was to take a full day of lessons since I'd never even seen a ski up close. Wearing all that gear felt ridiculous. My leg muscles refused to cooperate with the simple task of scootching over to the instructor.
1/2 hour later, I was at least moving with both skiis lined up. 2 hours later, I was mastering the snow plow. If you don't ski, that is where you almost but not quite cross your seemingly 30 foot skiis in the front to slow your butt down as you speed down a powdery hill.
Lunch time came. I was feeling pretty good about my progress. Turns out, my new darling husband thought I was AMAZING on skiis. Really? Oh. Okay! What? You want me to take the rest of the afternoon to learn with you instead since I'm so awesome? GREAT!
The instructor just shook her head and waved goodbye. I figured she had her money anyway and didn't really care what I did.
So we start out. I fall. I fall every 2 seconds. Small children on short skiis with no poles are flying by me.
New hubby is eyeing me with concern. He asked me to remember this move or that as I curse the skiis flying off again.
Me: What "moves" are you talking about??
Hubby: Ummm. Weren't you over there to the left in your lovely blue ski jacket cutting back and forth?
Me: No. I was over there on the right running into the other newbies during my snow plows.
Hubby: Crap. (it may or may not have been a stronger word)
So we literally spent the next 2 1/2 hours trying to get me off of the bunny slopes. It was excruciating! God bless my husband because he was SO PATIENT with me and I knew he really wanted to leap onto the gondola and ski the black slopes with abandon.
I pretty much fell down the mountain that day. Almost at the bottom of Blackcomb, I was so mad that I finally got the hang of it. And then I spent the rest of our weeklong vacation in the hot tub, watching movies and hiking a mountain once my limbs resumed use.
I'm excited for my brother. I hope no matter how his first experience skiing turns out, he comes home in good condition with a great story.
Wait until he goes to the Grand Canyon. Boy, do I have a story to tell then!
Everyone has a story. Everyone likes to share their story. I have to mentally make myself shut up from telling my stories simply because someone has told me theirs and I might have one similar. Sometimes I can hardly stand to be quiet cuz my stories seem so funny to me and I want others to laugh along. Is that ego or just wanting to connect with others?
That's why I blog. I can tell all the stories I want! Even those that I had to shut up about earlier in the day.
My brother is in Breckenridge, CO for his first ever ski experience. He's really excited but has no clue what's in store for him. I've asked him to take pics (he's already texted one to me) and remember all the gory details of learning to ski.
Because MY ski experience was a complete disaster! I look back on it now and laugh but at the time I was thoroughly pissed.
We went on our honeymoon to the gorgeous mountains of Whistler Blackcomb, BC, Canada. It is where the 2010 winter Olympics are being held for cryin out loud. I had no business skiing for the first time THERE. Nonetheless, hubby and I wanted to do something fun and a little crazy for our honeymoon. That seemed to fit the bill.
Whistler is absolutely beautiful and serene. Driving up through the mountains on the side of cliffs was breathtaking. Watching a small boulder narrowly miss us as it fell from the cliff was a wee bit life threatening.
We stayed in a fabulous townhome we'd rented, complete with a private hot tub outdoors. Perfect for honeymooners but, even more importantly, medically necessary for a beginner skiier in Whistler.
The morning started out great. I was to take a full day of lessons since I'd never even seen a ski up close. Wearing all that gear felt ridiculous. My leg muscles refused to cooperate with the simple task of scootching over to the instructor.
1/2 hour later, I was at least moving with both skiis lined up. 2 hours later, I was mastering the snow plow. If you don't ski, that is where you almost but not quite cross your seemingly 30 foot skiis in the front to slow your butt down as you speed down a powdery hill.
Lunch time came. I was feeling pretty good about my progress. Turns out, my new darling husband thought I was AMAZING on skiis. Really? Oh. Okay! What? You want me to take the rest of the afternoon to learn with you instead since I'm so awesome? GREAT!
The instructor just shook her head and waved goodbye. I figured she had her money anyway and didn't really care what I did.
So we start out. I fall. I fall every 2 seconds. Small children on short skiis with no poles are flying by me.
New hubby is eyeing me with concern. He asked me to remember this move or that as I curse the skiis flying off again.
Me: What "moves" are you talking about??
Hubby: Ummm. Weren't you over there to the left in your lovely blue ski jacket cutting back and forth?
Me: No. I was over there on the right running into the other newbies during my snow plows.
Hubby: Crap. (it may or may not have been a stronger word)
So we literally spent the next 2 1/2 hours trying to get me off of the bunny slopes. It was excruciating! God bless my husband because he was SO PATIENT with me and I knew he really wanted to leap onto the gondola and ski the black slopes with abandon.
I pretty much fell down the mountain that day. Almost at the bottom of Blackcomb, I was so mad that I finally got the hang of it. And then I spent the rest of our weeklong vacation in the hot tub, watching movies and hiking a mountain once my limbs resumed use.
I'm excited for my brother. I hope no matter how his first experience skiing turns out, he comes home in good condition with a great story.
Wait until he goes to the Grand Canyon. Boy, do I have a story to tell then!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Age Appropriate Honesty Or Just Total BS?
We're quite relaxed about nudity. The girls ask questions about my body, giggle at it (thanks) and inquire about Hubby's anatomy. I want the girls to have a healthy view of their own bodies and also know that a male's body isn't some big mystery. We discuss personal privacy and the fact that some subjects are better left discussing with Mom & Dad.
However, inquiring minds still want to know everything.
My girls are fascinated with how they got here. We keep the rated R details out of our explanations but sometimes the conversation throws a curve ball and we're faced with a question we either have to dance around or tackle head on.
The other day, they were asking about their births. Easy enough, right?
How tiny were we when we were born? - I would show them an approximate length
How did we get out of your tummy? - The doctor cut my tummy to get you out (yay for c-sections when it comes to the birth questions)
Didn't it hurt? - No, I was given medicine so it wouldn't hurt AND I was so happy they were about to be born that all I could feel was love (embellishment is acceptable)
What is that blurry picture? - A sonogram. A picture of you in my tummy.
Did they know I was a girl when I was in your tummy? - (Uh oh) Yes.
Could they see my girl privates? - ...yes...
Boys have boy privates. They are called hangers. - Oh? (We're in the vehicle. There's no escape)
Yes. Boys have hangers. Daddy does. Ben does. Grandpa does. - Mmmhmm. (Had to throw Grandpa into the mix? Really??)
Ava pipes in: Boys have hangers, Mommy! Girls don't!
But they aren't really called hangers. What are they called? - (Turn up radio NOW)
I would normally tell the girls that boys have a penis except I know that my friends with boys call it quirky names and NOT penis. I am not gonna be guilty of using a word they obviously aren't ready to use with their children who own one.
We call them boy privates.
Do you think it feels funny when they sit on it? Their privates, I mean? - Well, why don't you ask Daddy? (finally, my out!)
I could tell Bella had filed this question for later. She and Ava spent the rest of the ride arguing about who was the tiniest baby.
When Hubby gets home that evening, the girls immediately start asking their questions.
Daddy, does it hurt when you sit on your hanger? - No, does it hurt when you sit on your girl privates? (He looks at me and mouths "Hanger?" I shrug. Their word, not mine)
Bella ponders and says, No, but I don't have a hanger - Good point.
Daddy, what do you call your boy privates? - My penis.
Great. Now I have to warn the mothers.
However, inquiring minds still want to know everything.
My girls are fascinated with how they got here. We keep the rated R details out of our explanations but sometimes the conversation throws a curve ball and we're faced with a question we either have to dance around or tackle head on.
The other day, they were asking about their births. Easy enough, right?
How tiny were we when we were born? - I would show them an approximate length
How did we get out of your tummy? - The doctor cut my tummy to get you out (yay for c-sections when it comes to the birth questions)
Didn't it hurt? - No, I was given medicine so it wouldn't hurt AND I was so happy they were about to be born that all I could feel was love (embellishment is acceptable)
What is that blurry picture? - A sonogram. A picture of you in my tummy.
Did they know I was a girl when I was in your tummy? - (Uh oh) Yes.
Could they see my girl privates? - ...yes...
Boys have boy privates. They are called hangers. - Oh? (We're in the vehicle. There's no escape)
Yes. Boys have hangers. Daddy does. Ben does. Grandpa does. - Mmmhmm. (Had to throw Grandpa into the mix? Really??)
Ava pipes in: Boys have hangers, Mommy! Girls don't!
But they aren't really called hangers. What are they called? - (Turn up radio NOW)
I would normally tell the girls that boys have a penis except I know that my friends with boys call it quirky names and NOT penis. I am not gonna be guilty of using a word they obviously aren't ready to use with their children who own one.
We call them boy privates.
Do you think it feels funny when they sit on it? Their privates, I mean? - Well, why don't you ask Daddy? (finally, my out!)
I could tell Bella had filed this question for later. She and Ava spent the rest of the ride arguing about who was the tiniest baby.
When Hubby gets home that evening, the girls immediately start asking their questions.
Daddy, does it hurt when you sit on your hanger? - No, does it hurt when you sit on your girl privates? (He looks at me and mouths "Hanger?" I shrug. Their word, not mine)
Bella ponders and says, No, but I don't have a hanger - Good point.
Daddy, what do you call your boy privates? - My penis.
Great. Now I have to warn the mothers.
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Abyss of Life
Ta-Dah! Here I am once again. Home sweet blog home. What? No more readers? Nobody hung around for the last several months waiting for my grand return? Mom?
I've missed blogging. I didn't realize how much I like writing full sentences until I joined Facebook and started giving sometimes witty status updates. Not as fulfilling as one might think.
So, I'm back to the blogosphere. Not for anyone else but me. As it was and as it should be.
See you in a few months.
I'm kidding! Oh, silly me.
I've missed blogging. I didn't realize how much I like writing full sentences until I joined Facebook and started giving sometimes witty status updates. Not as fulfilling as one might think.
So, I'm back to the blogosphere. Not for anyone else but me. As it was and as it should be.
See you in a few months.
I'm kidding! Oh, silly me.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Ze Queen Hath Spoken...
Isabella is a decision maker. Not that she reaches her final decision quickly but when she's ready for change, she plows ahead and doesn't look back.
Bella decided 3 nights ago that she wanted to start sleeping in the big girl bed in the room next to ours. She didn't require anything from me other than a goodnight kiss and turning off the light on my way out. I was shocked!
This is the same child who has slept in Mommy & Daddy's bed since I was pregnant with Ava. The very child who would rub Daddy's earlobe to help her fall asleep. And now she's in the room next door hidden among 15,000 stuffed animals and dolls, snoozing until 9am.
We admit we miss feeling her toes knead our legs and her arms smacking our face in the night.
Even after 5 years of knowing and growing with Isabella, she still surprises me. She definitely likes to be in control of her own gig...at some point. Whether it is quitting breastfeeding, diapers, the crack paci or crying at school, when Isabella is ready to move on, she simply does it!
So while her Daddy and I pout a bit over her newfound independence, we are also bursting with pride at her ability to know when she's ready for change and she goes for it.
She is named for a queen, after all.
Bella decided 3 nights ago that she wanted to start sleeping in the big girl bed in the room next to ours. She didn't require anything from me other than a goodnight kiss and turning off the light on my way out. I was shocked!
This is the same child who has slept in Mommy & Daddy's bed since I was pregnant with Ava. The very child who would rub Daddy's earlobe to help her fall asleep. And now she's in the room next door hidden among 15,000 stuffed animals and dolls, snoozing until 9am.
We admit we miss feeling her toes knead our legs and her arms smacking our face in the night.
Even after 5 years of knowing and growing with Isabella, she still surprises me. She definitely likes to be in control of her own gig...at some point. Whether it is quitting breastfeeding, diapers, the crack paci or crying at school, when Isabella is ready to move on, she simply does it!
So while her Daddy and I pout a bit over her newfound independence, we are also bursting with pride at her ability to know when she's ready for change and she goes for it.
She is named for a queen, after all.
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