Time to dust

After arriving home from a birthday party last night, Cookie Monster seemed quite worried. He was on the toilet, shouting something to me. I asked him what he was saying and was quite shocked by the response: "There's dust on my wee-wee!"
What? I yelled for dad, who was half-asleep on the couch. He emerged as I asked Cookie Monster what the problem was.
Running into the room naked as the day he was born, he repeated "My wee-wee is dusty."
"Ever have that problem?" I asked dad, who sat on the chair, with his eyes open wide and a slight grin on his face.
The dust, I soon discovered, was lint from his dark-colored underwear.
My, my.
Both grandparents found that quite amusing, as did great-grandma.

Today times 2

Oh, and also highlighting the morning:
-LaRue sat on the couch next to dad, who was enjoying his cup of coffee with the paper. He asked if she was looking for an apartment in the want ads.
-LaRue decided to use some of her new speaking skills. Dad and I both thought we heard "bulls***." Papa will gladly take credit for that.

What to do today?

Let's see, it's just a couple hours since this house has been rockin' with 4 wide-awake munchkins. Dad asked what the plan is today. I need to clean the kitchen (see previous post for an idea why that's ALWAYS necessary here).
But, according to the 2 & 3-year-old, this is what has been on the agenda in that short time:
-LaRue has changed her clothes no less than 3 times. The first look involved big brother's pajama shorts, hiked to one side with the diaper hanging out and giving her a massive wedgie, accompanied by brother's Thomas the Train shirt on BACKWARDS. At one point, the outfit was ditched -- along with the diaper -- and she ran upstairs (as fast as a 2-year-old can go butt naked) and grabbed new clothes. These included three more of brother's shirts, all worn backwards. We've figured it is easiest for her to open his dresser drawers.
-When told to return the baby wash to the bathroom, LaRue offered it to her baby.
-The freshly-washed baby now lies in a pile with about 17 other babies that Cookie Monster graciously offered little sis on the couch and she piled next to me while I tried to read and enjoy a quick breakfast. It's there that the babies still lie.
-LaRue attempted to send someone an email, just prior to calling someone.
-LaRue offered to wash out the kitchen sink, complete with a truck in the garbage disposal, as well as an entire bagel. At least the cats enjoyed that one.
-Cookie Monster has filled big brother's Valentine mailbox with M&M's.
-Cookie Monster spent time searching for two teeth he thought he lost when he wiped out running full speed out of the kitchen into the living room. Guess those long pajama pants are a show stopper.
-Cookie Monster got out a pile of clips to put in sissy's hair. Let's just say that didn't go over well.
-The two of them fought over the coveted second-hand fleece Strawberry Shortcake blanket. Don't know what the attraction is????
-LaRue discovered big brother's Lego set and brought the house downstairs to dismantle. Ooops, I predict a war after school.
-Huh, LaRue just arrived with yet another outfit. Again, brother's clothes. And a big tub of pretzels.
-Maybe it's time to quit journaling???
-No, LaRue, you can NOT have Diet Sunkist for breakfast!
-Now she's filling a new garbage sack full of whatever is on the living room floor. Guess my cleaning is starting sooner than expected.
Seriously, I need to go shower before I head to an appointment. So glad dad will be in charge. Wonder when he and his coffee cup will stop watching Curious George?
Gotta love it! I sure do!

"Cracked" Potatoes

I've spent some time the last couple of days avoiding something I dread doing. Unfortunately, this task is necessary in our home more often than I want to admit. What might that be?
Deep cleaning our kitchen!
Thanx to LaRue, I have to scrub, scrub, scrub and scrub some more our kitchen. UNDER the counter, down the walls, all over the chair and heaven knows where else. She decided this weekend that she would experiment with (as our kids call them) "smashed" potatoes.
While I spent about 5 minutes reading the paper online, she decided to strip and THEN eat potatoes. At some point, she put them all over her body! This was shortly after her bath and just minutes after dad left to "play" with his friends -- cards.
I wanted so badly to scold her. But what do you say to a little one who is naked and covered in potatoes? Instead of losing my temper, I grabbed the camera. After I called dad to say he owed me, since he was the one who left the container on the counter, he just grunted.
But then I asked him: "So just exactly how do mashed potatoes affect a child's "crack?" That brought a laugh. And probably some conversation at cards.
Now the kids have a new name for potatoes -- "cracked" potatoes.

4th Child Syndrome

There's a saying that with each kid, you do things differently. You know, there are less pictures taken of each child. (Although I'm not sure that's true here, considering how much we just spent at the photographers..) Some say with the first child, you don't let them have a paci if you are totally committed to nursing. With the second, not only do they have a paci, but when it drops on the floor, you just dust it off on your shirt. By the time the third child arrives, they are born sucking a paci just to keep some peace in the house. And when it falls on the floor, you just hope the dog doesn't get to it first. Child number 4 at our house not only had a paci, but she herself chose to share it with the dog. That's been about the only thing she shares.
She has learned how to scream to get her way. Papa and mema say it's payback. I, on the other hand, think it's totally and wholly connected to the fact that she too has older siblings who continually tease her. (I feel your pain LaRue!)
But there is another saying that goes along with each subsequent child you have. Something to the effect of their diaper hanging lower each time before you change it. So true, especially when the baby girl is wearing a dress.
All I can say, though, is at least she has clothes AND PANTS on! This summer we went through a phase where she thought clothing was optional. At one point I found her on the kitchen counter, standing there totally naked.
Soon after that happened, a friend sent a card alluding to the fact that she would have a way to pay for college. Please, don't add that to the list of subsequent child sayings!

Who turned up the heat?

We just returned from our family vacation. My husband was set on going to St. Louis to see his brother, even though it was June and it was VERY hot. Actually, there were heat warnings there and the heat index topped out at 112-116 degrees. Not very relaxing, especially when you have morning sickness 24/7. And LaRue let us -- and everyone else within 200 feet/miles -- know that!

During our trip to the Arch, she screamed ALL the way to the top, IN the top and ALL the way down. Oh, and she screamed while we stood in line. This was done while flailing around on the floor or in our arms throughout most of the 1 1/2 hours. People looked at us like we were aliens. One lady -- an employee at the arch -- asked if there was a problem. Um, duh?

"She's 1," I responded very curtly.

Other people in the first cave we toured were a little more comforting. Her screaming didn't echo like I thought it would. What can I say, she wanted her own stroller and they had us use a different one to go in?

At the second cave, no strollers were allowed. LaRue was fine until we got about 20 feet in to the cave. Again, people were not so friendly. But what do you do?

We'd already spent $50 on tickets. It wasn't like we were just going to leave. And what do you want us to do, beat her?

So, needless to say we did not check out the Cardinals game. Daddy and I both agreed it probably wasn't a good idea to try and contain her for a few hours in the 100+ degree heat. You can see from the picture how wonderfully refreshing the air was.

But despite the weather, we had a great time spending a week away as a family. The house we stayed in was amazing and gave the kids a chance to boat, fish and swim. Too bad the fish thought it was too hot to bite!

Cinco de...Stromberg

So the news is out, thanks largely to a couple of overzealous souls. We are having a baby! Yes, you read that right. Baby number five will grace our presence just after the first of the year. I kept it a secret for a while. The grandparents knew and couple of friends (one of which is a nurse -- more about that later).
Let's just say, this came as a big surprise to us. This will be c-section number five for me, so I'm kind of scared about how my body will react. And dear daddy will be about 85 by the time this one graduates high school. Truth is, he'll be, well, he'll be older than me. Let's just put it that way.
Farmer Boy and the Princess are already thinking of names. They learned Spanish in school this year. So they have suggested "Cinco." Cute, but probably not. And, as Princess is quick to point out, this is actually baby number 6. The middle child is somewhere bouncing around in heaven's playground.
This baby was totally unplanned. However, we have no doubt he or she will be a definite blessing in our family. And, as one friend pointed out. "LaRue" couldn't have been the baby. She was obviously referring to the flailing, screaming, dramatic fits she has at the drop of a hat. Entertaining? Yes. Getting old? Definitely.
I mentioned today that it's partially my late uncle's fault we're in this predicament. If I hadn't been grieving his sudden death, and my wonderful husband hadn't been so quick to comfort me, well, you married couples know...
Without knowing I was pregnant, I had surgery. Good thing I didn't know I was pregnant, because I probably would have put off the surgery even longer. But bad thing that I took darvoset and other pain killers. (Hence, the call to my nurse friend when I found out I was pregnant). We just pray for God's mercy and grace on this little one.
Farmer Boy and the Princess have been more than eager to tell people we are having twins. Sadly, people believe them. I quickly correct them, and, as of this week, I have proof that is NOT the case.
I took them with to the doctor when I had an ultrasound, just so they could hear the nurse say, There is only one baby." I asked her to repeat it for emphasis, and louder in case they didn't hear her.
So they've moved on from the discussion about twins and cinco to now: "Mom, are you going to go to the vet now like Lily (our dog) so that you can't have any more kids."
Actually, I've got some wonderful BRAVE male friends who will be taking daddy for a drive, something they should've done for about 2 years now....