DPP Day 16: Coffee, pj’s, and paintbrushes

By Moriah on December 16th, 2009

Occasionally Andy meets a friend for coffee, and it’s always on a Wednesday morning.  Today he woke me up to say he was leaving and it went something like this, “I made your coffee and thekidsarepaintingatthekitchentable.  See ya!”

What a sweet guy.  (He also should have tacked on “oh and by the way, Adelaide’s stinky.”)

Welcome to the morning!!

I’m posting three photos because I liked them all for various reasons and couldn’t pick just one.




And guess what? It’s raining.

By Moriah on October 27th, 2009

My mom comes in tonight. Just in the nick of time, if you ask me. Tomorrow will be spent doing baby laundry, hunting down the infant seat, and packing my hospital bag. (No, I have not done that yet. Thanks for asking.)

(And if my water were to break tonight, I’d be in a wee bit o’ trouble. Because today I plan to spend on the couch, reading and folding the regular laundry that miraculously got washed yesterday.)

In a not-so-comical turn of events (as if we didn’t have enough going on), a man in a white truck pulled into our driveway and proceeded to turn off our electricity this morning.


At the time I had tried several times to pay the bill online and the company’s website had been down. No, paying over the phone never crossed my mind. (My brain? Have you seen it?) Then our transmission died and I forgot all about teeny things like electric bills.

So yeah, we’re currently waiting for them to come TURN IT BACK ON ALREADY. I had to boil water in a pot on the stove (thank heaven for gas and matches) to have a cup of tea since our normal kettle is electric.

And the food in the fridge? Just crossing my fingers it stays cold. Also? DON’T OPEN THE FREEZER.

***Edited to add: we’re back with modern times now. Yay.

Cuts and stings. It happens.

By Moriah on June 24th, 2009

We did have a great time with our friends at the children’s museum yesterday, but the morning was not without its drama.

Just as we were packing up to leave, Adelaide came in with a gushing cut on the palm of her hand. “I fall down!” Thankfully it wasn’t deep or requiring of any stitches. (We’ve had our fill of those for the summer.)

As soon as I had finished putting a Band-aid on it and winding tape around her whole hand (do you know how hard it is to keep a bandage on that spot otherwise?!), Madeline came in screaming, holding her hand. “I TRIED TO CATCH A BUMBLEBEE!!!” And clearly got stung in the process, poor kid.

I thought she knew bees don’t exactly make great pets. Well, regardless, she learned this lesson yesterday.


Also, our house has been much cooler. Whatever the a/c serviceman was able to clean with our garden hose on Tuesday did make a difference. It made me so happy I even put the laundry away.

Totally Not Surprised

By Moriah on February 26th, 2009

Apparently someone thought it’d be fun to take a bite out of poor Mr. Starfish’s appendage.

Any guesses on the perpetrator?

(Hint: it was not me.)

She is her father’s daughter

By Moriah on December 9th, 2008

I vacillated this year on whether or not I would really decorate for Christmas. I do think it’s important to set apart the holiday season for my kids as well as create memories and Christmas traditions as a family.

I just didn’t know if I had it in me to rummage around in the attic, half bent-over, searching for that elusive Christmas box and then dragging it all down and putting it out.

And the dusting, the boxes and trash, the what-the-heck-do-I-do-with-my-regular-nick-knacks quandary, and the DO NOT TOUCH, YES, PRETTY, DO NOT TOUCH!!!

(All that and the side of my personality that says if I’m going to do it, the whole entire house needs bedecking, floor to ceiling. I must enjoy overwhelming myself.)

You can imagine my relief when it finally occurred to me that I didn’t have to have a garland or snowman on every available surface. I don’t even have to use everything I own!

So that was my philosophy for Christmas decorating this year: pick and choose. (You’ll see the results on the 15th.)

But yesterday morning, I was laying in my bed completely asleep, and IN my sleep, I heard the clanking of my porcelain nativity characters somewhere in my dreams. I woke up and shot out of bed.

I walked into the living room to find Madeline standing on a kitchen stool she’d pushed up next to the entertainment center, the angel and a wise man nestled in the crook of her arm, and the rest of the figurines clumped precariously near the edge.

I can’t blame her for being drawn to them. I hadn’t put them out until after she was asleep so they were completely new and wonderful to her. And they’re very beautiful to look at.

I explained that yes, they were fun to look at but they were also very fragile and we don’t touch them. Which, might I just say, is extremely hard for Madeline. Way more so for her than for Drew or Adelaide.

So I was telling Andy about it last night, and his immediate response was “she’s just like me!” He went on to tell me how over-the-top curious he was as a kid and how when his parents left the house, it was a mad dash to rummage through all their stuff.

(And yes, his mom reads my blog – hi, Mom! But Andy said he didn’t care if I posted this story because he’s “27! They can’t be mad about it now!!” So there you have it.)

Anyway, the main thing we talked about was that Andy ALWAYS knew what his Christmas presents were. He’d hunt around in the attic, his parents’ closets, the cellar, everywhere. Even ceiling tiles, I kid you not.

From his own mouth, “I was a SNEAK.”

There was a funny story from one year – his parents knew he’d been sneaking around and didn’t put his main gift under the tree. After the rest of the gifts had been opened, Andy kept asking them, “are you sure there’s not one more present?!” How’s that for giving oneself away.

So basically, yes, she IS her father’s daughter.

When you’re done with the donuts

By Moriah on November 1st, 2008

Make sure you lick the plate.

The Never-ending Day

By Moriah on September 27th, 2008

[I had a wonderful bloggy break, thank you! And after taking a whole week off, I feel refreshed and ready to blog now in earnest. In case you’re wondering, THIS is the promised new post, really, since technically I’ve had the Before & After: Girls Room post (below, in case you missed it…for some reason feedreaders didn’t pick it up) finished since July. And after not hearing from me for a week, I’ll expect comments from every last one of you. Fair is fair.]

Today was one of the craziest mornings I’ve ever had, which is really saying something considering I have a separate category for ‘Morning Mishaps.’

I mentioned before that Andy is running a marathon in New York, and it happened to be this weekend. He had signed up (and paid) before we moved and we were able to find a really cheap flight. So, in the end, he was able to keep his commitment with a friend.

However, since our city is about two hours from any major airport (although several to choose from), he was scheduled to take a shuttle today in the wee hours of the morning so that I didn’t have to drive him to the airport.

And for some unknown reason, he set the alarm for 4:10. He was supposed to board the shuttle at 4:30. It takes around 10-15 minutes to get there.

We woke up at 4:40.


In a groggy panic, we surveyed our options – none of which were even remotely appealing. We do have two cars; Andy’s service engine light is on, however, and he wasn’t comfortable driving it that far. I couldn’t even think straight enough to come up with a plan; I just knew I did NOT want to load the kids and drive Andy two hours away to the airport.

Especially at 4:40 in the morning.

A fleeting thought suddenly crossed my mind – he’d been dropped off from that same shuttle service on our side of town before after returning from an out-of-town trip… maybe they’d be willing to stop and pick him up?

I frantically grabbed the phone book, looked up their number (cursing my tired brain that would not churn out my ABC’s) and finally got a hold of the operator. He was pretty sure that the driver had already passed us on the highway.

I asked him if he could please check, just to be sure. Turns out the driver WAS willing to pull off and pick up Andy, and hadn’t passed us quite yet. I practically threw Andy his cell phone on his way out the door and then waited on pins and needles by my own phone to hear if he had made it.

I talked to him right as he was pulling into the gas station; no shuttle in sight. We figured out he was one exit down from where the driver was waiting, at another BP. He hopped on the interstate, sped over to the right place, and got on the shuttle.

[Cue the Hallelujah Chorus in all of its splendor.]

We could not have orchestrated it any better. It was totally and completely a God-thing. I laid in my bed afterward, my mind still racing and not wanting to think about what would have been necessary if Andy hadn’t made that shuttle; my eyes tearing up at the Lord’s mercy and silently repeating “thank you, Jesus,” over and over.

Even when I woke up a few hours later, my head was still spinning from that close of a call.

But the morning, it had only just begun.

First, Adelaide dumped her million pumpkin bread crumbs all down herself, her chair, and the floor – I saw her lift up her plate and felt myself switch into slow-motion as I moved across the room to try and stop her. It was too late.

Moist bread chunks and crumbs are not exactly easy to sweep up, turns out. I took the whole chair, booster seat and all, out to the back deck and turned it upside down.

(I let her out first, in case you are wondering.)

Then, after breakfast, Madeline came up and handed me several locks of hair – her own – asking me if I could put them back. I knew there would be a day where she tried to cut her own hair; I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

I explained that it doesn’t work that way, that I can’t just fix her hair and put it back the way it was. She cried. Thankfully, they were mostly small cuts, and none of them right next to her head. She’s got a head full of layers, so it blends in fairly well.

Several times throughout the morning she said “I’m so sorry for my hair, Mama,” and would cry a little. It was such a delicate balance in responding because I wanted her to know that it’s just hair, after all; it will grow back. But I also don’t want her thinking she can just go chop off her hair whenever she happens to spot a pair of scissors.

Meanwhile, we’d tentatively planned to go to the children’s museum and all morning I had been trying to move in the direction of getting everyone out the door. So far I had only managed to change Adelaide out of her pajamas and into a clean diaper before Madeline’s hair cutting spree.

Next thing I know, I’m looking down at Adelaide, still wearing only a diaper, sitting in a dirt pile in the backyard with a shovel in her hand. And she was filthy.

She needed a bath, no way around it.

As I was getting myself dressed after that, I came out to the living room where Madeline had spilled the sugar bowl all over the place. It was a grainy, sticky, dusty mess. And then my head, it suddenly exploded into tiny little pieces.

Kind of like the sugar.

After THAT mess was taken care of, what do I do but go outside, and Adelaide is BACK in the dirt! This time only her hands needed washing, and boy, it’s a darn good thing.

[Also, all of this mayhem caused me to completely space that it was trash day, and I totally forgot to get our can out to the street. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but forgetting is one of my pet peeves. Now we have to wait another whole week and it was already almost full.]

Sarah and I did spend a couple of hours this afternoon at the children’s museum and although really fun, it totally wiped me out. (I got up at 4:40am, remember?) I had the kids nap for an hour when we got home, gave them an interesting collection of foods and called it dinner, and then attempted to get them all down for bed before I suffered a nervous breakdown.

Once in bed, Drew wanted a children’s Tylenol because he said his head hurt. Whatever, fine. A few minutes later, I hear him wailing because he squished it and the tablet broke all over his sheets.

I’m so glad I have a trusty vacuum cleaner and I’m so glad that I can go to bed now.

Good Morning. Would you like to play some board games?

By Moriah on September 22nd, 2008

Originally published March 2008.

This morning was one of those times where my attitude about getting out of bed was along the lines of “I don’t care if they burn the house down, I simply cannot get up yet.”

The kids usually content themselves by eating breakfast bars, playing around the house, climbing on me, watching a movie, or whathaveyou. But this morning? Somehow Drew got the plastic toddler-proofing cover off of Adelaide’s doorknob and Madeline decided they’d play a few games.

Adelaide wasn’t so thrilled. And you may want to shield your eyes:

The jumbled up mess of cards she was apparently sitting on:

The full disaster:

And a box of Andy’s business cards, thrown in for good measure:

We won’t discuss how long this took me to sort out and put to rights (and you can see how tiny those Risk men are, in that box right there).

Okay. Well at least they DIDN’T burn the house down.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...