I'm not blogging anymore. I've become a bit paranoid about the Internet and its dangers lately. We have much news. Reagan is currently at her first day of preschool. We're adopting again and our little one is waiting for us in Taiwan! Our church has a new building (hopefully!). We're not bored or boring, by any means. Just haven't shared with the general public out of concern for our safety.
That being said I truly miss sharing our life with you and I know my family especially would like me to continue our story. I've decided to start a private blog in an attempt to meet the best of both private and public worlds.
If you'd like to receive an invite to our private blog, please email me or leave me a message here. Thanks!
--Lisa
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
...to our advantage
So Reagan helps Danny in the basement a lot. He's currently finishing the downstairs bathroom which will ultimately be nicer than OUR bathroom. Guests, prepare yourselves for luxury!
Reagan hands Danny tools and scribbles on the wood. She carries a tape measure and flings it around, nearly blinding herself every other second. She knows where all the "parts" are going for the bathroom: sink over here, shower here, toilet there. She knows what color she wants the walls to be when it's done. She's really been a major par of the whole renovation process.
Today we took that a step further. Danny called both lumber yards in town to discover that on Saturdays, neither place does home delivery. We didn't have a way to pick up the last few pieces of sheet rock. With sadness in his Bob the Builder heart, my hubby took his assistant and went to the lumber yard anyway. He figured he'd order what he wanted and we could have it delivered this next week.
Thirty minutes went by. Then they returned. Reagan bounded over to me with one of those small, brown paper bags meant to carry nails and just when I was about to scold Danny for letting her play with nails (again), I realized it was full of M&Ms. So was her mouth. Danny explained that the lumber yard owner had basically been charmed out of his socks by our daughter. He provided her with a quarter and showed her how to work his M&M dispenser (thank you, Mr. Lumber yard man). He then declared that for Reagan, he'd send out a delivery guy on Saturday.
Sure enough, moments later, our sheet rock arrived.
Tonight I'm making a list of other ways we can use this little girl to our advantage. By all means, send suggestions our way.
Reagan hands Danny tools and scribbles on the wood. She carries a tape measure and flings it around, nearly blinding herself every other second. She knows where all the "parts" are going for the bathroom: sink over here, shower here, toilet there. She knows what color she wants the walls to be when it's done. She's really been a major par of the whole renovation process.
Today we took that a step further. Danny called both lumber yards in town to discover that on Saturdays, neither place does home delivery. We didn't have a way to pick up the last few pieces of sheet rock. With sadness in his Bob the Builder heart, my hubby took his assistant and went to the lumber yard anyway. He figured he'd order what he wanted and we could have it delivered this next week.
Thirty minutes went by. Then they returned. Reagan bounded over to me with one of those small, brown paper bags meant to carry nails and just when I was about to scold Danny for letting her play with nails (again), I realized it was full of M&Ms. So was her mouth. Danny explained that the lumber yard owner had basically been charmed out of his socks by our daughter. He provided her with a quarter and showed her how to work his M&M dispenser (thank you, Mr. Lumber yard man). He then declared that for Reagan, he'd send out a delivery guy on Saturday.
Sure enough, moments later, our sheet rock arrived.
Tonight I'm making a list of other ways we can use this little girl to our advantage. By all means, send suggestions our way.
The Lollipop Lie
Turns out, Reagan has been humoring me for goodness knows how long.
Last July we flew to see my parents. Prior to the trip, I purchased a jumbo bag of those Dum Dum lollipops with which to pacify our toddler on the airplane. I still have tons of them left and I dole them out in moments of desperation now and then. Reagan does not know I have them. Or maybe I should say, I didn't think Reagan knew that I had them...
Our bank must have the same bag of lollipops and when we make deposits, Reagan withdraws one of their stash. They know she prefers pink or blue over white ones (well, the white ones are coconut so who can blame her?). They even give them to me when she's NOT in the car. "Oh, save this for Reagan!" The ladies in the window fork over lollipops when Reagan is unconscious, drooling in the backseat. They really like giving those things away and Reagan really likes eating them.
A few months ago I began using this give and take relationship to my advantage. I purposely manipulate our bank visits according to my needs.
For instance, Reagan never wants to leave the library. The librarians think she's a rock star. The books and toys are a draw plus she gets to make a craft if we actually make it there for Toddler Time. I use the bank as an excuse. The instant I mention her beloved lollipop vendor, Reagan is at the counter, ready to "pay" for our books and get the heck out of there. She sprints to the door, anticipating the sugary slurping that awaits her.
The thing is, I don't always have banking business despite my evil plotting otherwise. However, this hasn't stopped me from telling the teeniest, most innocent little lie. I quietly dig in my purse to locate a lollipop from my secret supply while I navigate over to the bank. I drive through the lane that goes by the drive-thru window but I don't stop. Then I cry out, "Thank you, Bank!" and I toss a lollipop into Reagan's lap behind me. My adorable daughter thanks the bank too and sometimes even raises her lollipop in a little salute to the ladies as we whiz by them.
I'm so sneaky. I'm so clever. Reagan connects the lollipop fairies solely with the bank. She does not beg for one at any other time. She does not seek them in my purse or offer them to other children in front of their parents who would then judge me for letting her have sweets. Nope. None of that. She is oblivious!
Only she's not.
Wednesday of this week we had errands to run in the city. Reagan can only be strapped into her car seat for so long before she basically loses all reason and cries and cries and strains for release. Trying to pacify her isn't easy on a good day but this particular cry fest happened during torrential rain while her father was navigating rush hour traffic in a part of the city we don't know well. Reagan moaned, "Lollipop, lollipop" in a ridiculously pathetic manner. I towed the party line, "Sweetie, I have to go to the bank for lollipops, remember? Maybe Daddy can swing us through the bank," I offered. (This earned me a death glare from my beloved husband).
Reagan wasn't having it. She sat up in her seat, looked me in the eye and said, "You have lollipops in your purse, Mommy...remember?" And then she pointed to the very pocket where the lollipops reside. I hadn't fooled her at all. She was playing along with me, letting me think I was in charge and on top of things.
Obviously, I gave her the darn lollipop. The gig is up. The lollipop lie is no more. But she still doesn't know toys can leave the store....
Last July we flew to see my parents. Prior to the trip, I purchased a jumbo bag of those Dum Dum lollipops with which to pacify our toddler on the airplane. I still have tons of them left and I dole them out in moments of desperation now and then. Reagan does not know I have them. Or maybe I should say, I didn't think Reagan knew that I had them...
Our bank must have the same bag of lollipops and when we make deposits, Reagan withdraws one of their stash. They know she prefers pink or blue over white ones (well, the white ones are coconut so who can blame her?). They even give them to me when she's NOT in the car. "Oh, save this for Reagan!" The ladies in the window fork over lollipops when Reagan is unconscious, drooling in the backseat. They really like giving those things away and Reagan really likes eating them.
A few months ago I began using this give and take relationship to my advantage. I purposely manipulate our bank visits according to my needs.
For instance, Reagan never wants to leave the library. The librarians think she's a rock star. The books and toys are a draw plus she gets to make a craft if we actually make it there for Toddler Time. I use the bank as an excuse. The instant I mention her beloved lollipop vendor, Reagan is at the counter, ready to "pay" for our books and get the heck out of there. She sprints to the door, anticipating the sugary slurping that awaits her.
The thing is, I don't always have banking business despite my evil plotting otherwise. However, this hasn't stopped me from telling the teeniest, most innocent little lie. I quietly dig in my purse to locate a lollipop from my secret supply while I navigate over to the bank. I drive through the lane that goes by the drive-thru window but I don't stop. Then I cry out, "Thank you, Bank!" and I toss a lollipop into Reagan's lap behind me. My adorable daughter thanks the bank too and sometimes even raises her lollipop in a little salute to the ladies as we whiz by them.
I'm so sneaky. I'm so clever. Reagan connects the lollipop fairies solely with the bank. She does not beg for one at any other time. She does not seek them in my purse or offer them to other children in front of their parents who would then judge me for letting her have sweets. Nope. None of that. She is oblivious!
Only she's not.
Wednesday of this week we had errands to run in the city. Reagan can only be strapped into her car seat for so long before she basically loses all reason and cries and cries and strains for release. Trying to pacify her isn't easy on a good day but this particular cry fest happened during torrential rain while her father was navigating rush hour traffic in a part of the city we don't know well. Reagan moaned, "Lollipop, lollipop" in a ridiculously pathetic manner. I towed the party line, "Sweetie, I have to go to the bank for lollipops, remember? Maybe Daddy can swing us through the bank," I offered. (This earned me a death glare from my beloved husband).
Reagan wasn't having it. She sat up in her seat, looked me in the eye and said, "You have lollipops in your purse, Mommy...remember?" And then she pointed to the very pocket where the lollipops reside. I hadn't fooled her at all. She was playing along with me, letting me think I was in charge and on top of things.
Obviously, I gave her the darn lollipop. The gig is up. The lollipop lie is no more. But she still doesn't know toys can leave the store....
Monday, April 13, 2009
Thirsty Rabbit, water is for plants!
Mondays are the day I run around town attempting to do all the things that should have been done the previous week. I buy groceries, go to bank, the post office, the dry cleaners and anywhere else I have business. Reagan goes to Kidz Day Out (again, apologies for the incorrect spelling of Kidz) where she lives large playing with 20 of her closest friends. We both thrive from this time apart. I get writing done. She finger paints. I fold clothes. She bickers lovingly with Judah over toys. I go to the bathroom without an audience. She puts on puppet shows. It's a great system and the benefits are endless. The latest joy to come from this arrangement is a new member to our household.
Reagan recently made a "Chia Pet" out of a black sock filled with potting soil and grass seed. She is a bunny rabbit with googly eyes and a pink bow holding back her ears. Reagan made her at Kidz Day Out, of course and we all watched with fascination as the sock slowly but surely produced green "fur" as the grass grew in over the last few days. The bunny sits on the floor by all the other plants soaking up the sunshine from our big south-facing glass doors. I've been watering the rabbit on my own until this weekend.
Saturday I told Reagan, "It's time to give your bunny something to drink, Sweetie." She looked at me with a puzzled expression on her mouth and said, "What?" I filled a glass with water and poured it on the rabbit's back. "I said, let's give your rabbit something to drink. She's thirsty." Reagan stared at the rabbit and then at me and finally said, "Rabbit no thirsty, Mommy. Rabbit no drink. Rabbit has no mouth!" She pointed at her little bunny's face with emphasis.
And she's right. Her rabbit is certainly lacking a mouth with which to drink. I attempted to explain what I meant to our little Miss Literal but finally gave up. She can be stubborn sometimes and goodness knows where she gets that. I said, "Ok, Reagan. You're right. Your rabbit does not have a mouth. She can't take a drink. Let's wash her fur with this water, shall we?" That seemed to satisfy her so today when she gets home from Kidz Day Out, her rabbit will receive another bath on her green, furry back. I'll do my best not splash her eyeballs or the spot where her mouth should be.
Note to self, either don't encourage her to believe the sock filled with soil is an actual rabbit or accept from the start that you're going to have absolutely mind boggling conversations with your two and a half year old about bunny parts and green fur.
Reagan recently made a "Chia Pet" out of a black sock filled with potting soil and grass seed. She is a bunny rabbit with googly eyes and a pink bow holding back her ears. Reagan made her at Kidz Day Out, of course and we all watched with fascination as the sock slowly but surely produced green "fur" as the grass grew in over the last few days. The bunny sits on the floor by all the other plants soaking up the sunshine from our big south-facing glass doors. I've been watering the rabbit on my own until this weekend.
Saturday I told Reagan, "It's time to give your bunny something to drink, Sweetie." She looked at me with a puzzled expression on her mouth and said, "What?" I filled a glass with water and poured it on the rabbit's back. "I said, let's give your rabbit something to drink. She's thirsty." Reagan stared at the rabbit and then at me and finally said, "Rabbit no thirsty, Mommy. Rabbit no drink. Rabbit has no mouth!" She pointed at her little bunny's face with emphasis.
And she's right. Her rabbit is certainly lacking a mouth with which to drink. I attempted to explain what I meant to our little Miss Literal but finally gave up. She can be stubborn sometimes and goodness knows where she gets that. I said, "Ok, Reagan. You're right. Your rabbit does not have a mouth. She can't take a drink. Let's wash her fur with this water, shall we?" That seemed to satisfy her so today when she gets home from Kidz Day Out, her rabbit will receive another bath on her green, furry back. I'll do my best not splash her eyeballs or the spot where her mouth should be.
Note to self, either don't encourage her to believe the sock filled with soil is an actual rabbit or accept from the start that you're going to have absolutely mind boggling conversations with your two and a half year old about bunny parts and green fur.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Happy Easter 2009!!
For more Easter photos, visit our Flickr page:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/84389878@N00/sets/72157616592377571/
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