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Archive for the ‘The Princess of Wails’ Category

We had an incredible Christmas this past year. One of those holidays that was so wonderful because we did nothing, had no travel, and had nobody over. It was divine!

During the Christmas break, the men of the house poured over a Christmas gift from the woman of the house. A book called “Backyard Ballistics”. Before I knew it, the boys were coming home with things like lighter fluid, hairspray, PVC piping, long matchsticks, bags of potatoes, Pringles cans, duct tape, and things I don’t have names for. For two days a flurry of activity took place in the kitchen and in the garage.

When the moment came to actually perform the launch, our son elected to do his “video” time, rather than witness the fruition of those hours of hard work.

EEEERRRRR. Stop the tape.

I was about ready to turn the boy inside out, but Tom Builder had given him a choice, and Mr. Incredible handled the side issue of our son’s ridiculous indecisiveness (not wanting to disappoint Dad, but really wanting to do PS2 Star Wars for the 5oth time) with stunning ease. Our Princess of Wails, on the other hand, knows good Daddy time when she sees it, and was all about launching potatoes out into the pasture.

And so this is how it came to pass that two girls and the man of the house found themselves strapping our self made potato cannon to a paddock gate to prepare for her maiden launch.

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None of us were quite sure of what to expect, but Mr. Incredible had high hopes of launching potatoes to infinity and beyond. What none of us were expecting was the enormous sonic boom generated by a squirt of hairspray, a spark, and a mere potato! The launch was a complete success with potatoes blasting far out into our first pasture, while Ken and I giggled over how loud the gun was. So ear busting, that we could only convince ourselves to launch five potatoes for fear that the cops would be at our door in another five minutes. Who knew that plunging potatoes into pastures could be so much fun for grown men?

So if you knock at the door, and no one answers, head around back. We’re probably just shooting spuds.

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Knucker Hatch Farms is not responsible for any noxious amounts of Hydrogen Sulfide that may be present in the air on Christmas Day. Knucker Hatch Farms would also like to add that it will not be liable for any mass extinction that may take place due to the toxic levels of Hydrogen Sulfide (as is theorized to have happened to the dinosaurs.) Please send all complaints to Global Warming.

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This child has voluntarily muzzled herself. With what household object has she chosen to use as the muzzle of choice?

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I love children and how they express their thoughts. When they’re two, the flip flop of words makes their sentences extra memorable. And when they’re six, it’s the bizarre thoughts behind the words that often add the humor.

My cutie-pa-tootie, Faith, has been knocking us over with her new fangled sentences. She’s getting very good at it. Some of her newly coined phrases have become the latest fad among the rest of us. If Faith wishes to sit in your lap, she’ll affectionately say, “I lap you.” Which sounds so close to “I love you”. That we all just say back, “I lap you too, Faithie.” I’ve recently had to turn Faithie’s unexpected requests to nurse again down (she was weaned a year ago). After Hope has finished nursing, Faithie will say “I eat you too Mommy! Pleeeeeaaase.” It makes me laugh every time…in a nervous way.

Meanwhile, Jack just keeps me in stitches. He’s Mr. Question Man. Today, he was reflecting back on a biography about George Washington that we had recently completed reading for school. “Mom? Did George Washington really beat the Redcoats? Well, then why did they meet each other for dinner after the war?” (referring to G.W. and the English General). I mentioned something about having to meet to sign large amounts of paperwork regarding treaties and truces. Never skipping a beat he asked, “So was signing all of those hundreds of papers the Redcoats’ punishment for losing? Because I think that would be a punishment.”

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I think I can hear it coming like a freight train headed in our direction. TWO. At the end of this month, Faith turns a whopping two years old. I feel like the blue puppet Grover in that famous book where he keeps begging the child not to turn another page because there is a monster at the end of the book. Faith has been turning pages, and kicking down barriers for months, getting closer and closer to the terrible twos. With her, I feel like I have been battling “two” for two years, but now I am worried about the “terrible” making an entrance. I have never had a terrible two year old…but I think we’re almost at the end of the book.

Faith has always been the proverbial bull in the china shop, and I am constantly trying to think of new ways to keep her hands of mischief busy. The girl is all about liquid sedatives….lotion, shampoo, toothpaste, dish soap. Right now, the drug of choice is the water faucet and a scrub brush. The minute she hears me turn on the water to wash anything, she is scrambling for a chair to push up to the faucet so she can join me. Forget the drought in Georgia! I leave that faucet on a trickle for 15 minutes at a time just to keep her in one place and focused. If she catches you turning it off, you get a prompt and authoritative, “Hey!”. Even a “treatment” doesn’t stop her from performing her washing duties.

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The whole washing thing has me a little concerned. She washes everything. Give her a napkin at the dinner table, and she’ll spend her entire time washing the food off her plate rather than eating it. A wet sponge is her best friend. The only thing right now more fun than a sponge is her sister’s underwear. Every once and awhile you can hear an adult in the house saying, “What the..??”, as we realize that Faith has pulled on her sister’s underwear over pants and under dresses in amazing contortions.

Not all of it is obsessive, compulsive and bizarre. She now thinks it is funny to crumple in a heap when getting changed. Or hit. Or kick. Which we are trying to nip in the bud. But her laughter is so contagious that before we all know it, we are laughing too. And then trying to make our faces serious again to try and discipline effectively.

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If she’s not washing something, or doing underwear gymnastics, she’s clomping away in someone else’s bigger shoes. It used to be the dog who stole our shoes. Now, it’s the dog and his confidant. Bottom line…Faith is ready to be a big girl. While, I lean back, and dig in my heels, saying ridiculous things like, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be bare foot sweetie?”

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Faith has pneumonia. Enough said.

Every other word that comes to mind right now would not be suitable for big eyes or little eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if at this very moment they are redirecting street signs for the Center for Disease Control straight to my house.

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I wasn’t even going to bring it up. Or if I did, it was going to be an after thought. Christmas was such a wonderful time with Tom Builder’s family. However, the events of today have me wanting to share the bad news first.

It started with Faith two months ago. Some of the bigger, scarier names you find tossed around…a nasty cold, followed by the disgusting Rotavirus, and over Christmas, the lovable Hand Foot and Mouth Disease. Makes your hair stand on end, doesn’t it? Entirely exhausting for my sweetie pie…

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I was praying that my breastmilk would protect Hope from the germs that seemed to be clinging for dear life on to my little wafer, The Princess of Wails, who is now just a shadow of herself. But to no avail.

Today, I sped like the dickens to the doctor’s office with little Hope in tow gasping for air. She had contracted a bad cough two days earlier that sounded like her sister’s and after a very rough night and morning she was exhibiting some real signs of stress…vomiting, belly breathing, wheezing, coughing with every single breath. Down right scary for a two and a half month old to be going through.

I adore my children’s doctor, and I could tell after he listened to her chest he was sincerely concerned, and decided to test her for RSV. I hadn’t even thought of RSV. I was still reeling from Faith’s bizarre Hand Foot and Mouth Disease with all of the hand and foot blisters. Sheesh, the house was already under quarantine! But the mention of RSV had me praying that it would come back negative. I recalled somewhere in the back of my mind that RSV was one of those things that could go dangerous quickly, and it could even be fatal with complications. It was always one of those red flags I had filed in my head during all of the mega reading and research that comes along with your first child.

Unfortunately, Hope tested postive for RSV. RSV isn’t a big deal for everyone, but it can be a bad word for little babies under six months. It can be very hard on the little ones as the sickness usually lasts two weeks, with five especially tough days. The doctor said that today was probably the beginning of the tough going part.

With one breathing treatment under her belt to get us on the road, we checked out at the desk. A nurse who had befriended Hope in the waiting room checked us out and commented as she saw the word “Bronchiolitis” on the chart, “Awww..bless her heart…at least it wasn’t RSV”. She had missed the other notation, but quickly then noticed her mistake and apologized. A couple other nurses had crowded around Hope in sympathy, and despite everything she had been through in the last 48 hours, she managed to flash a few smiles. After all, she was the very last patient to be seen in the doctor’s office for 2007.  Poor girl couldn’t even get a sucker.

Thankfully, Tom Builder and I are relieved to see that her breathing treatments appear to be helping her along better. She can at least take a breath easier, without using each breath to cough.

So that’s the bad news. New Year’s Eve or not, we may have another late night in front of us. And a tough first week in 2008. Our sweet girl is wiped out and pale as a sheet. But at least she is sleeping more soundly for now.

But you count your blessings sometimes even harder in moments like these. This year, the Lord has showered us with unimaginable blessings. Hope was one of those beautiful unimaginables.

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