m: go twins!
e: where are they going?

(apparently no where)

stealth napper:

What's better than a nap on a sunday afternoon on a cool, crisp fall day?
1:00pm: Went to church, ate a lovely breakfast at McD's, finished HSM2, daddy's gone at the Twin's game....it's time for naps. Grant agrees, Ella does not. I take grant up, do the nap routine, read a book, rock, sing the song of his choice (today it was baby beluga), lay him down...sweet nappies!
Next, Ella.
m: ella, it's time to lay down for a while
e: I'm not tired, can I play polly pocket quietly in my room?
m: yes, but I'm going to take a nap and you cannot wake me up. You cannot come barging in for me to fix barbie's hair or snap on polly's tiny shoes. Do you understand?
e: k.
1:30pm: I'm out.
2:30pm:
e: mom! mom! wake up! Can I go outside?
m: no, not until I'm finished w/my nap. I told you not to wake me up.
e: but why can't I go outside.
m: because I'm sleeping. why don't you lay down, or go find a book to read, you must be tired...
e: I'm NOT TIRED!!!
m: okay, well go out of here, you're being disrespectful of my nap.
3:30pm:
Mama wakes up to absolute silence. I look over in the bed thinking ella might have laid down beside me, nope. Get up, check her room. nope, not there either. Go downstairs, check the couch, nope not there. Beginning to panic just a bit, I check the doors, they're still locked so she must be in the house somewhere. Check her room again, including under the bed and in the closet, nope. Worrying more now. Finally, head into our bathroom/closet hallway to find this:Ta-dah! (Disregard the state of the closet, it has seasonal transition disorder) Silly girl. I'm anxious for her to wake up to hear the story as to why she choose this particular nook for today's siesta....stay tuned.

an oldie but goodie:

A conversation in the car between Ryan and Ella, September 2006:
[background: I had a miscarriage 3 months before I got pregnant w/Ella. The first baby was due in January, Ella was born in May-She knows nothing of the miscarriage, we've never mentioned a word about it]

Ella: Daddy where did you get that ring?
Ryan: I got it from my Boppy (grandpa), he's in heaven now.
--silence for a bit--
Ella: Daddy, I was going to come to you and Mommy, but then I got sick and Jesus had to take me to Heaven, so I came to you in the spring instead.

She went on to tell about heaven... she said there were lots of snacks and gummi bears there.

Pretty impressive, huh? She's out of that innocent undisturbed stage now and has no recollection of this adventure with Jesus, but we're relieved to know our lost, then found, baby...whatever our religious beliefs may be.

secret #2's:

m: grant, where are you?
g: I hiding! I hiding my poopoos.

pick your friends, not your nose:

e: dad, I stopped picking my nose you know. I don't do it anymore.

The dreaded day:

below is an excerpt stolen from a fellow blogger notesfromthetrenches, and how I got thinking about the day our cribby goes to heaven (or craigslist)... and can also be found on mommy!'s blog:

Long gone are the diapers, the bottles, the sippy cups.

There are no outlet covers, cabinet locks, or stairways blocked by gates.

No more high chairs dragged around the room during meal times. No more infant car seats and baby carriers blocking the back door.

When I say time to go, people run to the car on their own volition. Sometimes they even carry my stuff for me.

Stuff that does not include a huge diaper bag, two changes of clothing, bibs, blankets and enough Cheerios to feed a daycare.

No more spit-up stained shirts or leaking milky breasts. (I was going to clarify that I just got rid of the milk, not the breasts, but as I look down at my chest I realize that no, I did actually get rid of the breasts.)

No more pacifiers worn on my finger like a ring.

Fare thee well little cribby.

After 14 years the last remnant of babyhood is gone.

---

I really can't imagine a day where I don't lay a sweet angel in the crib, count the hanging stars, sing somewhere over the rainbow and say traume etwas suss meine liebe. I will never be able to entirely part with nursery. It's all so precious, the smell, the nightlights, the tidyness. Our lovely cribby, the one imported from italy that we (by we, I mean g'ma) spent way too much on, is starting to fail us. After only 2 children, the functioning side barely works and the drawer sticks. But for now, and hopefully for a little while longer, I'll continue to fight with the slider mechanism every night and whisper kiss, kiss to my sweet baby.

all grown up:

(thanks al, for the cute dress!)

avian-entomologist:

(while mommy & ella are laying down, just after turning off the light)
m: ella, please settle down. be quiet and listen to the crickets.
e: those aren't crickets, they're chermites
m: you mean termites?
e: no, ch-ch-ch-chermites, they're a type of chirping bird
m: oh, cool, listen to those then.

Mama Confession #4:

I'm starting to like and let my kids watch Tom & Jerry. I used to be adamant that T&J never make their way to our television, I thought it was way too violent for my innocent little humans, I even went as far as hiding the DVD in the kitchen cupboard and telling Ella that it was lost (she found it when she was looking for fish food). So why have I turned? Because there is no dialogue! Just nice jazz music or violins with the occasional BOINGGG! or SPAT!!!...sure, Tom spends his days trying to kill little Jerry, but I don't have to listen to it. No, "Can we fix it BOB?" or "Meeska-Mooska!" or that annoying little bilingual brunette and her talking backpack. So, for now, when mama is Playhouse Disney'd out...bring on the anvils!

Momentous Tuesday!

Ella wore jeans AND get this--a ponytail on tuesday!!! For those of you that know Miss Ella know that she hasn't worn a pair of jeans since she was about 18 months old and has forbade me from putting a ponytail in her hair as she thinks she looks like a boy. Yeah for kindergarten and peer pressure! My guess is most of the friends wear jeans and ponytails and Ella is starting to realize that it really is the all-american style.

speechless:

Future Vegetarian:

(in regard to the 15 pounds of pork shoulder I bought at Costco)
e: mom, what is that?
m: it's pork
e: like, from a pig?
m: yes, it's from a pig
e: well, what happened to the pig after they took that out?
m: the pig died.
e: (starts crying) you mean when they take those out the pigs die?? (bawling now)
m: yes, honey.
e: but why do they have to die? (major tears and sniffling)
m: because that is what God decided. God decided that we would eat pigs and that they would die. That's called the food chain.
e: so why didn't joie and jake die when they took that out of them?
m: took what? you mean when they took out their parts to make puppies?
e: yes. why didn't they die?
m: (thinking that this is really getting deep) oh, 'cause that was just a little surgery, they didn't take that stuff out to eat.
e: oh. (still crying)

6:35 am:

g: mama! dance!!
m: what? dance?
g: yep! mama, dance, peese!

Super Sweet Sister:

Wednesday was Library day. Well, now they call it Media Room or something lame. Anyhow, Ella is allowed to "rent" as she says, two books each week. Yesterday as I took the books out of her backpack she said, "Mom, I got one for me and one for Buddy!!!....I thought he'd like the garbage truck book!" Sure enough, she "rented" a book for her little brother and at bedtime when I asked her if she wanted me to read it to her she said, "No, I got that one for Grant, not me."

Virgin Poison Control Caller:

PC: Hello, Poison Control, could you hold please?
Mama: Um, yeah, I guess. [Hold?! What? My son could be dying and you're putting me on hold?!]
pc: Poison Control, how can I help you?
m: hi, yeah, my son ate toothpaste. I think about an ounce or so. The kid's kind. but not the infant kind without flouride, the kind with flouride....and isn't it the flouride that's toxic??
pc: [whoa crazy lady, let me talk] How old is your son?
m: 27 months.
pc: Oh ok, just over two.....he ate just an ounce?
m: yeah, I think so.
pc: Oh, we don't worry about an ounce. Two ounces is the magic number when it comes to toothpaste. He'll be fine. He might vomit a few times, but nothing to worry about.
m: oh, alright, thanks for your help, I can sleep now [yes, yes, I am crazy...I already know that, but thanks]
pc: Can I get your zipcode?
m: [oh, no, they're going to put me on the same list that the fire & police have me on!!] Um....yeah.....55364. [don't ask me my name, don't ask me my name....]
pc: Thank you ma'am, have a good night.
m: yep thanks! [now go help someone who's son has swallowed a bottle of drano or ate a rat poison sandwich]

mama confession #3

I yelled. Really yelled today. More than once. I'm up for the-worst-mom-of-the-year-award after today (not bad though, considering it's september and I made it 9 months without an official nomination). Ella was trying to reason me into letting her wear flip flops, "I'll just bring them along in my back-pack" and "these shoes make me look like a boy" and "If you don't let me wear my flip-flops, I'll ruin your flowers!" and "but can I just wear them for a minute??"...on and on and on. After 2 hours in the morning and 4 hours in the evening of hearing why flip-flops should be the only shoe in production--I lost it. Totally lost it. "ENOUGH ABOUT THE FLIP-FLOPS!!! SERIOUSLY, STOP. I WILL THROW THEM IN THE GARBAGE IF I HEAR ANOTHER WORD ABOUT FLIP-FLOPS. YOU ARE NOT WEARING THEM TO SCHOOL AND IF YOU KEEP WHINING ABOUT THEM YOU WILL NOT WEAR THEM EVER AGAIN!"
oooooops.
All the while that was happening, Grant was going for the olympic time-out gold medal. Every time I turned around he attacked his sister, full-blown hit/scratch attack. She'd freak...and I mean, freak, like she may as well had just had her foot cut off....with a butter knife. Time-out. 1 minute on the naughty rug (which, for a two year old is an eternity). "Say sorry to your sister for hitting. [yelling, sort of] WE DO NOT HIT!! Hitting makes owies. You hurt Ella." g: "Sowwy Ewwa...."........and, repeat. again and again and again....."sowwwyy. Me nice." [yeah, right-you'll do it again in five minutes] and then! he thought it was funny to eject her DVD mid-scene, which means, since we are the only americans w/o a DVD player and use an old PS2 to watch movies, you need to start over at the beginning every time. Again with the cutting of the foot...three more times. I'm surprised someone didn't call the police, oh but wait, even if they had, they wouldn't have come...."oh, just the albrecht's again, probably mystery carbon monoxide or the little twerp dialed 911--just ignore it."
6:00: OMG, WHERE IS YOUR DADDY?!?! Mommy is about to lose it.
7:00: Daddy calls, going to bar for one beer with John (thanks john, just swell-super great timing)
7:45: Daddy calls, did really only have one beer (good job daddy!), Mommy says, Can you stop at the liquor store, get me 2 bottles of wine and a pack of cigarettes? no joke. it was a really, really long day.

I wonder who I'm up against for my award and what should I wear for my acceptance speech...

ps. my first official day with only one child was lovely from 9-3. As for 6-9am and 3-9pm it was awful.

It's official!

10.5 hours & counting....

'Twas the night before the first day of the rest of my life.....here come thirteen years of friends, recess, boys, gym class (or lack thereof, depending on where we are politically), italian dunkers, trips to the science museum, boys, football games, designer duds, boys, school buses, ski trips, notes (or texts, I suppose), vending machines, boys, crabby teachers, great teachers, classes that suck, classes that don't suck as much, boys, #2 pencils, playgrounds, flashcards, scantron sheets.......oh lord....here come the tears....again........no turnin' back........stay tuned..................

Labor Day Weekend in Pictures:

Family potty time:

FOUR of the TWELVE grandkids (boppy & daddy too):

"I really just like the marshmallows....
the crackers and chocolate really just get in the way"

daddy & mama:

Almost kindergartner (almost big islander) cruisin' Lake Minnetonka:

Jack & Grant, buddies at the lake:

"No really.....a little sand in the crotch is fine......."

kindergarten jitters

e: MOM! I can't go to kindergarten, I don't know math!
m: oh, honey, it's okay, that's the kind of thing you learn in kindergarten...
e: well, I know 2+3 is 5 and 10 +2 is 12......
m: Well, I'd say you know math then....really honey, I think you'll do fine.