That's how Rowena asks to swim with her floaties! Cutest ever.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Things They Say
Gianna told me, "I'm gonna buy you something really, really, really pretty with my money. It's gonna be a shirt for you. And for dad. You cam share it."
Sounds flattering.
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, July 18, 2011
Lots of swimming lately. The big decisions are: diaper or no diaper?
John LOVES to be in the water. He tries to bolt over the side of his little flotation device. His sisters pull on it and push him around the pool. I try to keep him alive.
We had popsicles after lunch (Rowena calls them pock-e-pull!!). Being the resourceful third child that she is, Rowena headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. All was quiet except for the pleasant sound of running water. It kept running and running but I was so enjoying the quiet. Finally we wonder, "What's taking her so long?" Jamie shouts, "OK, Rowena, that's enough." No answer. Upon inspection this is what we find:
Our sink runneth over with Rowena. Aren't we lucky?
John LOVES to be in the water. He tries to bolt over the side of his little flotation device. His sisters pull on it and push him around the pool. I try to keep him alive.
We had popsicles after lunch (Rowena calls them pock-e-pull!!). Being the resourceful third child that she is, Rowena headed to the bathroom to clean herself up. All was quiet except for the pleasant sound of running water. It kept running and running but I was so enjoying the quiet. Finally we wonder, "What's taking her so long?" Jamie shouts, "OK, Rowena, that's enough." No answer. Upon inspection this is what we find:
Our sink runneth over with Rowena. Aren't we lucky?
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Really: What's My Problem?
Where do I start? I have lots of "problems."
Not really.
I have problems with sharing: over-sharing, under-sharing, worrying about peoples' opinions of my sharing, people knowing things that I wouldn't share with them in person, (people knowing things by reading my blog and me not knowing that they read).
I split mental hairs over this. Then I think about all the people who share on their blogs and who really make a difference in my life. People I don't know. People I wouldn't recognize on the street.
The difference between them and me...am I too prideful?
It's embarassing to think about people knowing that I don't have all my life together. I have these four beautiful children and I'd like to have more but I (in no feasible way) have all this parenting of many small children thing figured out.
It's very humbling.
I want my children to know how very hard I tried. And even how very frequently I failed. And had to ask forgiveness. And had to think about how impatient and awful I was at night following a day of impatient spewing.
Stella likes to remind me to avail myself of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. "Mom, you know how you have to go and talk to the priest and tell him all the things you've done wrong?"
"Yes, my sweet," through clenched teeth.
Not really.
I have problems with sharing: over-sharing, under-sharing, worrying about peoples' opinions of my sharing, people knowing things that I wouldn't share with them in person, (people knowing things by reading my blog and me not knowing that they read).
I split mental hairs over this. Then I think about all the people who share on their blogs and who really make a difference in my life. People I don't know. People I wouldn't recognize on the street.
The difference between them and me...am I too prideful?
It's embarassing to think about people knowing that I don't have all my life together. I have these four beautiful children and I'd like to have more but I (in no feasible way) have all this parenting of many small children thing figured out.
It's very humbling.
I want my children to know how very hard I tried. And even how very frequently I failed. And had to ask forgiveness. And had to think about how impatient and awful I was at night following a day of impatient spewing.
Stella likes to remind me to avail myself of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. "Mom, you know how you have to go and talk to the priest and tell him all the things you've done wrong?"
"Yes, my sweet," through clenched teeth.
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