I will not freak out...

So we're heading up to Elizabeth's ballet class.  The walk from the parking lot takes a few minutes so we make quite the entry.  The four year old dying to get in and see her friends.  The two year old who had to be awaken from her nap.  The baby who just is over her carseat, period. By the time we get to the front door, there is no one in the zip code that is unaware that we have arrived.

This week as we walked up, I was wrapping up a phone call with a good friend who I simply haven't talked to enough lately.  As we approached the front door, I notice that E is talking in a very animated manner but to no one in particular.  I stopped to listen and this is what I overheard:

(Confession: I admit that I once made her miss ballet because I remembered the time wrong and so I got the all tutued up only to realize that we had arrived an hour late...right as all her friends walked out).

So she has her hands gesturing all out in front if her, so emphatically.

"I will not freak out.  I am not going to panic.  This is not something I need to cry about.  This will be fine.  Even if we are late, even if we missed my class.  It's just not that big of a deal.  I am totally ok. This is fine,  this is just completely fine.  I WILL NOT CRY."

Is that so adorable? She had no idea I was listening,  this was entirely her self pep talk.  What? Don't lie.  You give yourselves pep talks too!

S has learned to talk. Ok not really but she says uh oh and she copies the girls when they say it.  It's so much fun for me when they find they can use their voices to make actual intelligible sounds.  It's my very first glimpse into what they are thinking in their busy young minds.  It all goes so fast,  I'm shocked with each baby how quickly we get to the point that it seems to be going dizzyingly fast.

Slow down, little lady.  Don't be in too big of a hurry to grow up.  We love every minute of your cuteness so just take your time. 

The setting: Mall play place

N comes running around the corner beside this 4' high bear thing she'd repeatedly jumped off off.  (Twice her height!)

"Mom, I'm super!"
"You're super?"
"I'm super n because I'm super!!!" And off she goes to jump off the top again.

The setting: family prayer

N has this new habit (aside from pretending to be a kitty all the time and insisting we call her N kitty) of praying without opening her mouth.  like, you can hear her voice and the inflection in her voicem you just can't make out the words.  its very high pitched and squeaky.  I feel like that is how a dolphin would sound when saying its prayers.  Anyway, N was said her prayers in the non opening her mouth way.

Immediately after N finished, E smirks, looks over at me and says "well I don't speak Orca so I'll take that as amen.". She then proceeds to say her prayers and says "please bless N to stop speaking Orca." Completely matter of factly.

No seriously, where do these kids come up with these things?

N has taken to announcing when S is freaking out.

Super loudly she'll announce in public "Mom, Our baby is having a fit!!!!"

But N can't say her " f " sound.  She replaces it with the "sh" sound.  Can you imagine the looks I get in the grocery store?  I've tried getting her to use another term besides "fit" but she is not interested in that idea.  What do I do with that?

She is trying out all kinds of new phrases.  She always beams when she correctly uses "that's the one"   Or " you got it!"

Today at the zoo, we randomly ran into some girls from our ward who graciously invited us to amble the grounds with them.  I was chatting with one of the girls, just casually making small talk.  My girls were sitting in front of me at one of the zoo exhibits, happily occupied and busily playing together.  My new ward mate asked how long the hubs and I have been married.  I said "About seven years."  E, without even looking up says, " no, mom.  Six years."  My new friend chuckled at E purported knowledge.  I laughed too ...and then I realized she was right.  "Oh yeah" I say. "It has been six years."  E says again without looking up, "it is, Mom. Six years."

Yep. I should be embarrassed that my four year old has a better memory than I.  On the other hand, it is a little gratifying to know for sure that all the brain cells that evacuated my head when I was expecting her  found a good home with her.  Thank the heavens for oldest children.

She's figured me out!

The scene: driving home from church last Sunday (it takes about 20 minutes) E staring out the window and sees a restaurant.

E:  mom, can we try that restaurant?

I look out to see which one she's talking about. Not appetizing. AT ALL.

M: maybe. ( I was trying to sound optimistic about the prospect.)

E: awwwww. Maybe means no.

Yep, sure does! But when did she figure that out?

Poor baby!

Tooth number two just erupted. She is over teething and she only just started...

This just in

S cut her first tooth. Big girl!!!

Paging Natalie.

Natalie has the happiest natural disposition. Ever.  But now she is two.  Where has the unsolicited happiness gone sometimes?

Setting: on the route to pick up e from preschool
Mom: Natalie, are you a happy baby?
Natalie: no, I'm crabby
Mom: why?
N: because I'm frustrated (pronounced shush rated)
M: how come?
N: because I'm mad
M: why?
N: because I'm whining
M: why?
N: because I'm crying (pronounced ca wying)

Um...what?

She's back.

Once upon a time, I called my oldest sister (aka my sanity hotline when I am out of good ideas) to ask her what to do with my oldest. She was acting completely irrational, out of sorts and generally making me crazy. She was 18 months old at the time,  Big sis laughed and said " it's the terrible twos. Hunker down and wait till she turns 4.  That's pretty much all you can do!"

I am here to tell you she was right.  Our first Sunday here in our new pad, E goes to her primary class where they give her a CTR ring.  She practically a floated out of the room after class and showed it to me. The first thing out of her mouth was "mom, Natalie would love one of these. I want to go ask my teachers if they have any extras that I can give to Natalie." 

Earlier this week, we were heading back from my sister's house way later than planned.  i've been sick all week and i was worn out and feeling too blah to make dinner. the hubs wasn't going to be home for dinner so i just drove thru and got some chicken nuggets and fries for the girls,  (don't judge. i was sick!!!) anyway, we got home and i set their dinner out for them.  i was feeding S some delicious strained squash when E looks up and sayd "mom, where are your chicken nuggets? i told her  i didnt get any so she asks me if i got something else for my dinner. i told her that i didnt.  she git this super sad look on her face and said that since i didnt have any dinner, she really wanted to share hers with me.  i told here i wasn't hungry and she was just insistent that i had to eat some of her dinner,.  i tried to reassure her that i did not want any but she kept insisting and insisting and finally tried feeding me french fries and dropping them off in front of my seat t the table,  See? My super sweet thoughtful intuitive girl is 4...and I think she is coming back to me!

Natalie was whining vigorously and forever long about something, who knows what.  I smiled at E and said "what are we going to do with her?" E shrugs and says "just love her, Mom" 

Oh...but in case you think all sass is gone, on the way home from church today she saw a new restaurant sign and asked if we could try it out sometime.  I said maybe,  from the back of the car I hear "maybe means "no" Mom."  What can I say? She is right!

You know who you are...

Actually, now that I think about it, women like you never do know who you are.  It's simply not in your nature. You see me, the mom of a brand new family in your ward, walk in to church just as the opening hymn is starting. You see my three tiny girls in tow. You see me survey the chapel and the overflow only to realize that a missionary has returned home this week and there is no where for me and my girls to sit. You hear me try to hush their discontent at being dragged back to the foyer where I tell them we'll spend the rest of the meeting. With Adam out of town yet again and some rather unenthusiastic little ones, I tell myself it will be better for everyone if we just stay out of the way.

And to my utter shock, you kind sweet soul, you come almost immediately out the same door I only just walked out to tell me you've made some room for my children and I in your row.  In your tight little row, I can see you have rearranged your things, asked your benevolent row mates to scoot over and are standing aside to let my family and I pass.  We sit down and make is through soundly half of the meeting without a meltdown.  And then...you moms of little ones close in age know what comes next.  The little one registers her discontent.  The two year old matches it with her own.  The four year old starts asking questions like "why are they freaking out?"   Meanwhile I am trying to dodge the back arching, head rearing of the baby  and the laying on the floor of the tantering two year old as  I calculate how I will gracefully drag my unwilling toddler, my wailing infant and my confused toddler out of the aisle while hurdling you and hopefully not thwacking you in your beautifully coifed    Head. Naturally, i am secretly chiding myself for not refused your kind invitation to come back into the meeting because i really should have just stayed in the lobby and now look at the mess i have to get out of.  But before I got to a solution, you have artfully swooped up the baby and enlisted your neighbor to hold the toddler. Both have stopped fussing and settled happily in before I knew what was happening. And there they stayed until the meeting ended.  As the meeting ends, you float over and thank me for allowing me the pleasure of holding my children.  And you were so enthusiastic, I actually believe you meant it.  When I told you that my husband was out of town and that I was sure we could be less unruly next Sunday, you simply said that it was great that I had come to church while he was gone but that you hoped that I would still allow you the privilege of holding my girls even when he was in town.

This week, now weeks since that Sunday, I watched you swoop in and soothe another woman's baby. A woman who was also flying solo. I saw the grateful relief on her face when her little one who was  a little unruly was quieted by someone who was thrilled to be holding a baby. I thought it was time I thanked you. For the obvious reasons, of course, but more particularly for being "that woman."   One who, I later learned, remembers very vividly being a mom of small children who occasionally talked a little louder, protested a bit more fervently than may have been called for in sacrament meeting while her hubby was out of pocket and who genuinely misses having the responsibility for soothing those tiny tantrums. Thank you for reminding me how much I'll miss this stage even ten years from now.  Thank you for reminding me that my children and I are not nuisances at church even if we make sacrament meeting a little louder.  Thank for not being that older woman who turned around literally every 30 seconds to scowl at me or my sweet babies because I seriously just about burst in to tears.  I felt so uncomfortable for how upset I was clearly making her.  But I needed that. Because since that day, I have been praying that I will never forget the difference between Miss Scowlyface and my dear super hero pinch hitting supper nanny.  I hope to never forget the kindness of the latter.  She had no idea who I was, that my babies were sick of Daddy being out of town, that I was wishing I had just hidden in the corner.  I hope I will remember that I have a choice in how I react to sitiuations and I hope I can rise above being Scowlyface lady.  Yes, "that woman," I want to be you when I grow up. Thank you, my dear.