Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes: The School Edition

     Before I had kids, I figured I would put them in some sort of preschool around age 3 just for some routine and structure.  But when Myla came along, I just wasn't ready.  Another year would go by where I knew parents were standing in lines (in February!) or signing up for preschool waiting lists, and I would panic and think, "Well, maybe next year. I don't want to pay for this anyway."  

     Dave never really pushed it, because worst case scenario, we send a kid to kindergarten with no previous school experience, and that's not really the end of the world.  I finally started thinking seriously about our school options this year, since we weren't too crazy about the district we lived in.  Little did we know, we'd be moving out of that district shortly after!

     Anyway, this year, the little lady is attending a homeschool coop Kindergarten class that meets once per week.  It seemed like the perfect fit for us this year.  She is technically still in her Pre-K year, but her class has a few other four-year-olds in it.  I am filled with peace and relief that she is in a classroom with 8 children total, one teacher who is a homeschooling veteran, and in a place where the name of Jesus is the foundation of instruction.

     We are taking it one year at a time, so who knows what next year will bring, but gosh, it all happened so fast.  First step: preschool.  Next step: she is going to grow up and leave us! Gah!

     One benefit of living with family is the extra help we've been getting.  Last Monday morning, I truly don't know if I contributed anything to getting us out the door on time.  Kristen made Myla's lunch, so Myla now doubts my ability to pack one at all.  This morning, she forced Kristen to oversee my sandwich making.  Last week, "the most surprising thing in my lunch was the ice pack!" Myla said.  Little newb.

Here is the obligatory photo reel...

[Because I was the little sister who got to be included in the first-day-of-school pics]

 [The only picture I actually took, hence the blurriness.  It was an, "Oh crap, I think I'm supposed to take a picture of her in the classroom!" moment.  So fun.]

     

Life Updates: The Dog Days are Over...

     I have been thinking about how to write this for weeks now. Life just got crazy, and the blog slipped through the cracks (per usual).  Long story short, we no longer have Penny Lane Livingston.  We had to give her up.

     Some background: We got Penny when we were newly engaged, and she stole Dave's heart as the most submissive little pup.  Her breeder loved her weim Mildred so much that she decided to breed her.  It was Mildred's first of 2 total litters.  When we arrived to her house in Brookshire, the puppies were all running around the yard gnawing on watermelon rinds.  Dave has continued to toss Penny his watermelon scraps over the years.  She clearly fell for him hard from the beginning.  She stood out to us because she would let you flip her on her back without squirming to get away.  

     As sweet as Penny is, she is a bit nutty.  She has the typical sporting breed nervous energy, which I foolishly thought I would nurture by "becoming a runner." Dear friends, if you choose a dog breed based on the idea that you'll take up a new exercise hobby, please don't.  Not only did I not start running, but I had a few babies over the years, so Penny's exercise regimen fell by the wayside.  Penny decided from a young age that crates were not for her, so she continued to escape from them daily until we started to let her hang in the backyard during the day.  The backyard became her kingdom.  

     

     She was the ultimate sibling to the babes.  She has never so much as made a peep as they grew up crawling all over her.

     

 [Exhibit A]

 [Exhibit B]

 [Exhibit C]

     Despite Penny's overall awesomeness, we had a couple of troubling incidents with her.  A few years ago while we were dog sitting for a friend, Penny attacked Laci in the backyard.  The other dog was not involved whatsoever, but it seemed like the presence of a third female with a similar nervous presence caused Penny to lash out at the little guy, Laci wiener.  At that point I seriously wondered if it was a good idea to keep her.  But keep her we did.  We became extra careful while dog sitting.

     A few weeks ago, I had a friend bring her boys over for a play date.  We sat at the dining room table chatting and drinking coffee while the kiddos ran around and played.  They played inside and also outside where we could hear and check them through the window (which happens often around here).  Penny was outside as usual. Suddenly, I heard Piper screaming and ran out to see what was happening.  Penny was attacking Laci.  My friend's two little boys and Piper watched the whole thing while screaming and crying as I attempted to break up this one-sided dog fight.  It took maybe thirty seconds to get Penny to stop, but it felt like forever (with me screaming at her and beating her with my giant purse).  I quickly herded Penny into the guest room and went to get Laci, who was pretty much lying there in shock.  The only cause I can speculate is that these boys maybe weren't as dog savvy and may have been a bit more high-energy than other kids who have visited before.  This may have triggered some anxiety in Penny, who in turn exerted dominance on the little guy, Laci.  Either way, I didn't see it coming.  It's the first play date that has ever ended at my house with me holding a towel to my dog's neck and hoping she didn't bleed to death.  I apologized over and over to my friend.  Despite this horrible experience, a few positive things mark that day:

• Nothing happened to the kids, praise God.  JD was asleep and Myla was at Vacation Bible school.  While the dog fight was happening and kids were scared, I looked at them and said, "Stay back! Don't move," and blessedly, they listened.  You guys, 2, 3, and 4 year olds aren't always known for their obedience, so this was good.  They wanted to run to their moms, but they listened and obeyed.
• My friend was able to go pick Myla up from VBS. I couldn't get my head together enough to ask her and coordinate it, but she offered and made it happen.  One less thing to think about.
• Dave works nearby and was able to come home right away.  No questions asked, he left the office to come home and take Laci to the vet. 
• We quickly found someone to foster Penny.  I knew I could not force Laci to return home to the dog who bit her once again, so we boarded Penny for a few days until we could find a good home for her.  She is currently being fostered by a breeder who also takes in rescues until she can find them a good home.  This lady is a weimaraner person.  She owns 6 of them.  She knows and loves the breed.  Penny has done great with her so far, and the woman was undeterred when I was completely honest with her about out situation.  She gets it. 
• When this whole thing happened, we didn't know we would be putting our house on the market mere weeks later and navigating the whole showings/house hunting/temporarily homeless situation.  This would have been much more difficult with an extra dog to coordinate.  We are currently nomads.  I mean, I am already asking my family to house my party of 5 (plus one wiener dog).  One less large dog is slightly less stress.  I hate to say it, but it's true.  

     

      '
     It was NOT fun taking Penny away after having this dog for almost her whole life.  I beat myself up thinking that I failed her, or that if our circumstances had been different (we didn't have small kids, we didn't have Laci, or I took her for daily runs to burn energy, etc), this never would have happened.  But it all came down to this: I do have small children, and I can't run the risk that she could be aggressive ever again.  I do have another dog who has been bitten twice now.  I can't have her living the rest of her life with her aggressor.
     I miss Penny.  I know her foster mom will find her a great home, and I look forward to receiving the update that she has found the best match for her.


So now we're one step closer to being all caught up...

A Lunch in the Life

     I remember that short period of time when I worked with grownups and ate lunch like a normal person.  By "normal," I mean that I ate food like ramen noodle bowls and drank about 3 cokes a day, but was somehow still on the small side.  I got to sit, eat, and maybe even chat about things with people. Adult people.
     Today, our lunch was fairly uneventful and an overall success. Experience it with me in these easy steps:

1. Prepare kid lunch. It's an easy sandwich, banana, and goldfish day. 
2. Bring plates to tiny table.  Distribute water.
3. Restrain baby. Place baby into exersaucer.
4. Heat up leftovers for me.
5. Sit down to eat with kids.
6. Tell child to eat sandwich correctly instead of peeling it apart and scraping out the insides.
7. Tell child to stop wiping her hands on her shirt.  Tell child to please stop crying about her sticky hands, because she knows the proper way to eat a sandwich and chose to peel it apart instead.
8. Reheat cold Chinese leftovers.
9. Explain to child that I will help her wash off her sticky hands once she is all done with her lunch.  "But I tie-yud!" child says. 
10. Help her wash hands since she is finished.
11. Tell her to go potty, put on a pull-up, and get into bed.
12. Sit back down to eat lukewarm leftovers.
13. Overhear, "My poop is too big! I need to flush it!" 
14. Shout back, "Are you done?"
15. Get back up to wipe child's butt, wash hands, and send child to bed.
16. Reheat leftovers. 
17. Other child finishes lunch and wants to wash hands.  Tell her clearly, "You may ONLY wash your hands if you can do it ALL by yourself without asking me to get up to help you with the water.  If you can't do it by yourself, then you need to wait until I am finished eating." "Ok," she replies.
18. Sit down, lean head back for a minute, and close your eyes.
19. "Mom, I can't get the water! I have soap on my hands!" child yells 3 seconds later. 
20. Kindly explain to her that she made the choice to start washing her hands even after I told her I would not be helping.  Let her know that she can wait until I am finished eating to help her.
21. Eat lukewarm leftovers. Think about how the baby is the only person in my life who truly loves me.

Dear Myla, Once Upon a Time...

     ... We took you to see Cinderella.  When I say "we," I mean that Nana and Pawpaw bought tickets and took Kristen, you, and me to see it at the real theater. For the most part, I thought you would do alright watching a full play, but part of me was worried you might have some sort of over-tired behavioral issues at some point during the evening. As it turns out, I was wrong.
     I started the evening by forgetting to bring the fancy dress you picked out to wear to the play. For Cinderella, I was going to let you go all out with the frilliest, most sparkly dress you could find in your closet. Mom fail. Luckily, Aunt Kristen had some backup clothes at her house, so you didn't look like a total doof. We kicked off the night by eating at Carraba's because you picked noodles for our special dinner.  Dad, Piper, and Jon David tagged along for that. Then we ditched them for our big girl night. You really did great at the show. The little girl behind us threw a total fit before the play even started and didn't even stay for the play. When that little twinge of pride crept in that "my kid isn't acting like that," I was reminded that it is only by God's grace and the personality he gave you that you behaved well that night.  Thank you, Jesus!

     We stopped to take this picture during intermission, and it's blurry because I am too awkward to keep posing for a good photo while a line of staring people forms behind me waiting for their turn. Sorry, kid.

(I followed your #1 rule for trying to look beautiful: don't wear your glasses, Mom." Punk.)

     We had a lot of fun. On the way out, I figured I would carry you out so we could speed walk and not get lost in the crowd. I picked you up and thought, "Man, she's getting heavy." I asked if you wanted me to hold you or if you wanted to walk, and you said, "walk." So I walked behind you and watched you thinking about how big you look now.  So big.  

     Maybe the theater will be one of our things. Maybe not.  But I sure am having fun watching you grow up.  

Love, 

Mom

Piper is THREE!

     If I only write posts on birthdays, that will add up to three posts per year, so that's something!

Dearest Piper,

     I was going to say I can't believe you're three, but I sort of can based on the way you behave lately... So let's just say it's an equal mix of belief and disbelief. You have always been my fiery little girl, but lately you have stepped up your game. Combine that with the fact that you are attempting to put the napping days behind you, and our afternoons can be sort of like this:

     Anyway, if I had to classify this past year, I would call it "The Year of New Fears." It has been interesting to see your little fearless self become more cautious lately.  While you used to be the most outgoing person in our house, you often become more shy around new people and places. Things that have elicited fear this year include (but are not limited to): trash trucks, bugs, one specific pillow case, and kids hitting piñatas. We also can't forget the ultimate fear of the past few months: singing waiters and whipped cream (thanks to witnessing a birthday celebration at La Casona). 
     I still have to turn my head and stifle a laugh during SO many parenting moments because of the sheer pitifulness of your face.  I can't describe it, but it's amazing.  It's one of my favorite things about you.  If your aunt Kristen witnesses the event when I am trying to discipline while containing my laughter, she always makes it worse by openly laughing at my failure.  In those moments, I just have to tell myself, "Self, you can't come back from this.  Maybe next time." 
     My other favorite thing about you is that you are a natural-born cuddler. I am not really the huggy type, so sometimes I forget to stop and squeeze you people when you get past the baby stage.  Your snuggling always helps me remember. Some of your worst toddler moments are made better by some good, old-fashioned snuggles.  (With the rest, we just have to white knuckle it pray).
     Some friends of mine helped make a list of questions to ask you for an interview.  I filmed the interview, but I decided that this video from the park today much more accurately describes your state of life right now:

     I love you so much, Piper Joy.  Hope you had a happy birthday.

Love,
Mom

P.S. You still love your belly button and your yummy thumby.  If I tell you "No thummies" in the car, you now respond with, "But I'm ty-uhd!" or, "I's just taking a wittle west."

Jon David: 6 Months

Welcome to another boring doctor's appointment post! I'm hoping posting these stats proves to my children one day that I really did love them (at least for the first year of their lives).  For the rest of the years, I'll prove my love by NOT posting their height and weight.

You're welcome, kids!

Jon David at 6 months:
     Height: 26.5 inches (33%)
     Weight: 18 pounds (54%)
     Head: 17.52 cm (77%)

Dear Jon David,

     If you never grow into your head, we'll just tell you it's because you're a genius.  You started sitting up in the last week or so, and are on the verge of true crawling (nooo!).  On the day of your checkup and shots, I put you down for a nap wearing a onesie.  When we needed to leave the house to run an errand, I told Myla to go in and talk to you for a minute.  She came out and said, "Mom, I think Jon took off his bandaid and is putting it in his mouth!" Sure enough, that happened.  Thank goodness for that errand we had to run (and that your sister came and tattled to me).  It's nice to know that the Mother-of-the-Year moments will continue to occur in full force even with baby #3.
    We have tried a few foods, and you are pretty much terrible at eating.  So much so that I'll be holding off on that for a while.  I'm sure you'll make up for it in the years to come.
     Your dad and I have been able to stop and smell the roses with you a teensy bit more than we could with the last baby (sorry, Piper).  Sometimes we hang out and snuggle together in the mornings in our big bed for the last few minutes before the sisters storm the house.  By "snuggle" I mean: get clawed in the face by your grabbers.  Semantics.
     Your thunder thighs are wonderfully squishable.  You have been a fun addition to our family.  We love you!

Love,
Mom

Here are a few things Jon has been up to:

 [Being confused by Puffs snacks and subsequently gagging on them].

 [Hanging with Sophie]

 [Lunch dates]

 [Enjoying the new quilt.  Thanks, Grandma!]

 [Managing to look manly in a pink float]

[Just being cute]

Dirty Dishes and Refinement

     I know, I know. I'm writing a post that's not about a doctor's appointment! Also, I'm trying to only put one space after each period, so this is pretty much a revolutionary day in my life.
     Sometimes I have to stop and look back at what I call the "little victories" in my life to really see how God has changed me over time. People, I've only been married for five years, and God has still managed to work on my heart in that time.
     Let me tell you a little bit about myself as a college student. Freshman year, I went to the best university in the world where I had two wonderful roommates plus another that was a little nutty. I don't want to sound hateful. This girl was really a sweetheart, but occasionally I would listen to her phone conversations where she explained to her boyfriend who was high on mushrooms that he did not, in fact, have a brain tumor. Good times. Those were the days when my friends made fun of me because I went to bed every night at 10:30pm (even as a recently-freed-from-constant-parental-supervision 18-year-old).

[Please notice how I did not crop out the super-awesome poster of the guy from "The OC," because please, let's all just take a moment to remember that show.]

     Together as roommates, we all made up some house rules. (You know, the usual things like "when you poop, you must strike a match.") But try as we might, the dishes became a thing. You know what I mean-- a thing. The rule about cleaning our own dishes as we go never stuck, and someone would always end up giving up and washing a full sink of things that didn't belong to them.  I was never that someone because I was the most selfish person in the entire world. Here is the embarassing proof: During the first finals week, I remember that everyone else in the entire world had approximately 2 finals and got to go home soon, while I had about 37 finals to take which forced me to stay in Austin about 6 days after everyone was gone. 6 DAYS. It was the end of the world, guys. If that wasn't bad enough, the TV belonged to one of the other girls, and she took it home with her! How was I supposed to study for finals all by myself with no one to eat with me in the cafeteria and no television?! It was pure torture. When the day finally arrived for me to head home, I noticed that there were dirty dishes left in the sink. Did my Holy-Spirit-filled soul tell me to get over myself and clean up before I left because it was the right thing to do? Nope. Y'all, I left dishes with cereal stuck to them in our kitchen for the entire 4-week winter break because I was petty as all get out. We probably came back to a moldy nest full of rats. I don't even remember.

     But there is hope to this story (i.e. the refinement)! I'm not even sure how I found a good husband, but I did, and now the Holy Spirit forces me to remember the depths of my selfishness when those same feelings arise. A few years ago when Dave would bring home his dirty lunch dishes and set them next to the sink (because, you know, he brings his lunch to work every single day to save money-- the nerve), I would think, "Why can't he clean up after himself? Does he not even love me?!"

     Now, a little voice whispers in my head, "Just serve him without grumbling." Without grumbling. My loving husband serves me hundreds of ways every day. My loving savior forgave me in the pit of my despair, so I think I can lovingly put some dishes into the machine that washes our dishes for us.

     I'm sure this seems like a ridiculous example of sanctification, and maybe it is, but it's part of my story. When I am able to have a small victory with the dishes, I think back to that time I was a total jerk to my roommates and am thankful that God didn't leave me in that place. Here's the best part: they actually kept being my friends! I guess their Holy Spirit lesson that year was one of forgiveness.  That really worked out for me.

[Now, I'm off to go forgive myself for posting this picture that emphasizes the double-wide face I had while pregnant with Myla].