Sunday, May 31, 2009

everybody poops ...

Upon putting Dilly to bed tonight, I overheard Doodle singing in her room. At first I thought I was mistaken. No, she couldn't be saying that. No way. But my ears weren't playing tricks on me. Doodle was singing about feces. Her song went a little something like this ...

"I go big poop. And baby poop. Oh, Baby Dilly poops. And Daddy poops. My friend poop. Dizzle poop. Poop. Poop. Poop."

Apparently, I don't poop. But that is a completely different subject.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

shots ...

This morning was Dizzle's four-year check up. I had been dreading this morning since her three-year check up. Why, you ask? Well, it was then that her doctor informed me that at her next appointment she would need to get four shots. Great! Four shots. Have you met Dizzle before? She overreacts if you look at her wrong. This was not going to be good.

When we left for the appointment, Dizzle asked me if she was getting shots today. And I, being the fabulous parent I am, lied. I said, "I'm not really sure. But if you do, it's to help keep you healthy," hoping it would soften the blow.

Overall, the appointment went well. Dizzle passed her hearing and vision screenings, she gained four pounds and grew three inches in the past year (leading her doctor to suspect that she will not be a super giant, but rather about my size) and she totally didn't freak out when the doctor examined her. But then came the shots. I was expecting tears. And I got them. But not from Dizzle. She was brave and although she winced, not a single tear was shed. Instead, Doodle kicked and screamed and cried. No, she didn't feel bad for Dizzle. She wanted to get shots too ...

Have you ever heard of such a thing?

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

dear dizzle ...

Dear Dizzle,

Today is your fourth birthday. It is simply amazing to me how fast the past four years have flown by. Every time I look at you, I can still see the jaundiced little face I brought home from the hospital. You are so incredibly different, yet somehow, exactly the same.

Dizzle, you were my most difficult newborn. Probably because I had no clue what I was doing. And now, you are my most difficult child. Probably because I still have no clue what I am doing. And I am sorry for that. I hope that when you're older you'll forgive me for using you as my test run (but really I have no other choice). I also hope you'll forgive me for expecting so much from you. I know you're only four and that I really shouldn't be so hard on you, but you are my oldest and I want you to be an example for your sisters. I want you to be their idol. The person they want to be most like. Because, you Dizzle, are perfect. You constantly amaze me. You are driven to a fault. You know what you want and exactly how you want to get it (even if that means driving me to my wits end.) You are passionate. And kind. And incredibly loving.

Dizzle, I often see myself in you and although that makes me happy, it also makes it incredibly easy for me to fight with you. I just hope that you can understand that when I get mad at you it's oddly because we are both striving for the same thing, to get our own way. Unfortunately, we both can't win. And until you are older and more mature, you need to understand that I get to win. For no other reason than I am older and wiser and I really do have your best interests at heart. And I love you.

It occurred to me this morning that you probably won't remember most of the past four years and what you remember now probably won't be as vivid down the line. But I promise to remember for you. I promise to retell you all the good times and even some of the bad. I promise to remind you of all the crazy things you've done and are going to do. But most of all, I promise to remind you of the sheer happiness you have brought into my life since day one.

Dizzle, I love you endlessly. I cherish every moment of the past four years with my whole heart and I look forward to the many adventures we have ahead of us. You are my world and without you I would be lost.

Happy Birthday Baby!!

Monday, May 18, 2009

finally ...

After almost two years of racing, I finally did it. I ran a race without going out too fast. And do you know what? It was my BEST.RACE.EVER. I felt good the entire time and managed to run negative splits (just missing my PR by 5 seconds). It was exactly the race I have been trying to run since day one.

And it gets even better. Because once I got home and checked the results, I found out that I had won the Athena (a.k.a. "big girl") division. So exciting. (And no, there weren't only three people in it. I bested 43 other "big girls"). How awesome is that?

Thursday, May 14, 2009

knock, knock ...

So, in the past few days, Doodle has become a real comedian. Literally. She is telling knock, knock jokes with the best of them. Here's her favorite:

Knock, knock. Who there? (said as one statement)
NO ONE (in her loudest voice ever).

And then she just laughs ...

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

a people doctor?

This afternoon I walked into the playroom to find Dizzle with her doctor kit next to her while she was taking care of her stuffed animals. When I asked her what she was doing, she looked up at me and said, "I am a veterinarian. And a peopleinarian."

No, Dizzle. Here on planet earth, we just call that a doctor.

peer pressure

Unless you have been on a different planet recently, you know that Dizzle isn't the best with the whole swimming thing. But I am over it, I'm not going to pressure her anymore. She will continue to go to swim classes, but if she freaks out, oh well.

Instead, I'm trying a new tactic. PEER PRESSURE. Sure, your mom always told you not to give into peer pressure. But that was with drugs. And drinking. And outrageous behavior. This is swimming. Not exactly the same thing.

Back to my point, we are using peer pressure. Peer pressure from Doodle. I figured that if anything would get me motivated, it would be my little sister being better at something than me. And I'm hoping Dizzle feels the same way.

Because, last night, Doodle started swim lessons. And aside from the initial fear of getting in the water, Doodle rocked it. She kicked. She splashed. She jumped in. She went under. All things Dizzle refuses to do. So when we came home Doodle and I told Dizzle all the fun things we had done. And you know what Dizzle said?

"Mom, I am going to cry at swimming tomorrow."

Yes, Dizzle. That's what I figured.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

I fink you're kidding ...

Have you ever tortured your children just for the sake of getting a good laugh?

Well, I have. In fact, I just did.

Doodle was climbing on the back of the couch and I told her to stop. She didn't. So I asked her if she wanted to go to bed then. To which she started crying. But it wasn't Doodle I tortured. It was Dizzle.

You see, Dizzle likes to take Doodle's misfortunes (like being sent to bed early) and shove them in her face. And when that happens, I tend to turn it on Dizzle. This time I told her that Doodle was not going to bed, she was.

I knew this would drive her crazy, even though I wasn't being serious. Our conversation went a little something like this.

Me: No, Dizzle. YOUR going to bed.

Dizzle: (screaming) I don't want to go to bed.

Me: Oh, well.

Dizzle: (really screaming running over to me with fists up): I don't want to.

Me: Well, if you hit me then you're definitely going to bed.

Dizzle: OK, I won't hit you, so I don't have to go to bed, right?

Me: You're going to bed.

Dizzle: (bright red with fists again) I fink you're kidding. I fink your kidding.

And I was. But her face and body language and her actual words did nothing but make me laugh. So I did. Until I was crying. And then I just kept telling her she was going to bed. And she is. Eventually.

Have your kids made you laugh today?