Bathroom Words

Warning: Some bathroom words have been used in the writing of this post so if you are easily offended or more mature than I, this might not be the post for you.

My children are well into the middle of a major phase right now and I am just buying my time until it passes. The phase? Well, um, I think I would call it the poopoo phase? As in, they think saying the word poopoo is the funniest, most taboo thing in the entire universe. There is nothing funnier to them than screaming poopoo! at the top of their lungs. And they do it often. They take such joy saying it, laughing, then running to tell on one another, "Mom, Nyah said a bathroom word!" 

I hear the word coming from the closet as they play together, hear them tell each other to say it, "Elsa, say poopoo," and hear it in the van as we travel. Because every song has the potential for bathroom word use.

You are my poopoo
My only poopoo
You make me poopoo 
When skies are poopoo...

Twinkle, twinkle little poopoo...

Momma called the doctor and the doctor said,
"No more poopoos jumping on the bed!"

And that's just what I've hear this morning.

I have failed, somewhere, I have failed. My precious angelic little girls have potty mouths and I am sure poor Jude is soon to be corrupted. 

I remind them each time they let it fly that we only talk about those words in the bathroom and they get it, I think. I am just worried Nyah will go to school and recite the alphabet in he new favorite way...H I J K L M N O POOPOO.

So there you have it. We've lost all control over here. Why wasn't I warned of this phase? Or are my kids just extra special?

Life With Socks

It is really no small feat getting three kids out the door in the morning, on time especially. Nyah to school and the youngest two and I to the gym. No, I am not on some major New Year's resolution kick off, I have been a regular member of the gym pre resolution season. Promise. 


Since Nyah has returned to school and the morning routine is back in action, we have had a few bumps in our quest to get back in the groove. 


And I am sure you know what I am about to write. I think it is a complaint of mothers and fathers generations old, but I am just coming head to head with the problem. 


Socks. 


I am really not into letting things get the best of me, especially inanimate objects, but oh how I loathe socks.


It's the same old story, I wash two, at least I think I wash a matching pair, yet only one makes it out of the dryer and the pile of orphans builds. Then morning comes and no one can find a matching pair, someone cries, I get frustrated as my arm begins to burn from carrying my big boy around as I frantically search for the lost match, seconds away from being late. 

And the lost sock always lies the most inconspicuous of places, especially since Elsa can only take about ten minutes in the car before she takes both shoes and socks off and tosses them. This from the girl who didn't wear shoes, much less socks, until she was a confident walker. She can't be tamed. 

I guess we are just not a sock, nor shoe family. Next to our door we have a basket where we dump our shoes the moment we walk in the door. Probably an old island habit, but a necessary one I feel, especially when little ones frequently occupy the floor. Shoes are dirty, its a fact.

And though it is so tempting to think back on a time when we didn't own socks and flip flops ("fliddy flops" as Nyah calls them) and sandals protected our feet, I can't let myself go there. Because socks are here to stay. 

So my vow today is to, one, stock pile mass quantities of socks in my kids' drawers so a matching pair is always just a reach away. Second, I will put a sock basket next to our shoe basket so each and every sock has a home as soon as they leave a little foot. And finally, I promise to not let the socks get the best of me, allow me to become frustrated ever again, or be the source of my child's tears. 


Because socks are too tiny an object to evoke such big emotions.


By the way, if you didn't already click on the link above, click here to watch some of Elsa's first steps. You won't be sorry.

Roses are Real

It's an odd thing moving into a space someone else has occupied. It is easy to inherit the most unintentional things, a cat's hair from deep in the shag(adelic) carpet, another's esthetic and scratches in the wood floor, or someone else's hair in the clogged drain (any volunteers to come fix that problem, I mean, I just can't). Yet somehow we made it all our own by just walking through the front door. 


At times, things are passed along you didn't even know you needed until you see them each morning at breakfast, and watch your girls lean on the window sill and gaze at them as the sun is setting through the glass each evening.  

I now cannot imagine my life without these flowers growing and showing off just outside the window. I wonder how they have managed to survived on their own for this long? Actually, they have thrived. So I guess that is what I will continue to do, leave them alone and let them do their thing, naturally, because they are really out doing themselves.

Though George isn't exactly the flower giving type (they just die is his philosophy, and I totally agree) he has now given me all the roses I could ever want, though I was never aware that I ever desired such a thing. Because we both know what I really dream of is a mango tree and bananas growing in my backyard for the pickin'. 

 But these little beauties will do the trick for now. Thanks babe!

The Company You Keep

The game has changed. The dynamics have been jumbled, once again, and this is what I have been left with. 

We are adapting to life minus one and the whole new order and routine it brings to each of our lives. All day, everyday of the week its just the three of us eating together, playing together, cleaning together, sleeping and just hanging out. Together. 

I am thankful for the frequent mix up in structure of our lives because it allows me to get to know each of these little bundles of energy, curiosity and pure love even better, as individuals. Because they are as different with each other as they are without each other but equally perfect in every way.

Someday soon Elsa will venture from the nest, followed by Jude. Though my mind can hardly go there it really doesn't have to because I am learning that life is constantly changing and everything and everyone is evolving and everything will work perfectly when the time comes. Routines are really only that for a short moment. 

So for now, right here, in this moment in our lives I am going to enjoy every minute of these lovable siblings and kiss them and snuggle them and accomplish absolutely nothing but the important job they have of growing. And in that, we will have accomplished everything. 

Freckles

Nyah and I had the most interesting conversation the other day while were chilling on the couch, enjoying our alone time together, conversing about life while the two other young-ins' were napping. The conversation was going really well when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and with such concern asked me, "Mom, what is on your face?" 


I immediately started whipping around my mouth thinking I had chocolate or ketchup or who knows what on my face. I am kind of a mess lately. And she was all, "No, there. What is that on your face?" And I kept wiping and asking, "What, where?" And honestly I was getting a little nervous because she was looking right at something.  


"Dots," she said. "You have polka dots on your face."


"Ohhhh. No babe, those are called freckles."


After a little giggle from her, we were on to the next topic. Probably something about tying a rope to her new house so she could pull it or something. She is big on this idea lately and I am afraid I don't quite get what she is talking about. But I'm trying.


So yesterday I was packing up and organizing and cleaning behind the couches (hello, total jackpot by the way for Nyah, she had a serious reunion with her toys each time I would move the sofa to reveal her long lost doll shoes and blocks and everything else) when I finally realized Nyah had wondered off and was being way too quiet for way too long. I finally called for her and out of the bathroom she finally came with the cutest little smirk on her face. 


"Look Mommy, I look like you now."

Sometimes I wonder if she is listening. But I am quickly learning that she is listening. To everything.


And so this is how she spent the rest of yesterday and part of today because she of course picked the special kind of markers to make her freckles. The kind that doesn't wash off with soap and water or even vigorous rubbing. 


Oh how I love this creative and funny little freckled face girl. 

Summer Shots

After Nyah was born, I was pretty adamant about having professional photos taken every three months. Not sure what made me think this was necessary, but after buying all of those adorable shots I realized that if I bought them then I should probably display them, and thats when the house became a total Nyah shrine. So I decided to back it down a bit.


We haven't had professional photos of the kids taken since last summer and with a new addition to the fam, it was definitely time. So after a little persuasion from my mom (thanks Mom) and finding the perfect photographer from a friends photos on Facebook (thanks Facebook), we went for it.

I have been posting a few of the shots here and there taken by Amber Berninger of Modern Relics Photography but here are the rest of my favs. I am so thankful she was able to capture so sweetly this special time in our lives.

And soon after, all hell broke loose. They stopped cooperating, got a crazed look in their eyes and were just completely over it, and I honestly can't blame them. But it was fun while it lasted.

**The story behind Elsa's saggy britches and too short dress is completely my fault, I take full responsibility. I bought the girls & Jude new outfits for their photos and being (what I thought) was a proactive and diligent mother, I wouldn't allow the girls to wear their new things (after much begging) until we got to the photo shoot. I didn't want anything to get dirty. It wasn't until we arrived and got the kids dressed that I realize that Elsa's "dress" was actually a shirt resulting in the exposure of her last minute, too big diaper cover. Lesson learned.

Girls

I went there, oh yes I did. I am that mom. 


I officially dressed our girls in matching outfits. It wasn't my idea. It was all Nyah's doing, I am just going with it. Nyah truly gets the biggest kick out of having the same outfit on as her little sister. 

I think this is a precious thing, a precious moment which must be seized because as I have been told and warned by those with sisters/daughters close in age, apparently all hell will break loose in this house when they are teenagers in reguards to the sharing of clothes, looking alike, being individual, etc. I am seriously scared already but hoping for the best, hoping they beat the odds, hoping this love lasts, actually, just hoping praying for a miracle. 

So I am enjoying this rare moment in our daughters lives while the enthusiasm for similarity exists and trying not to take it stage mom overboard.

Of course, Elsa couldn't be bothered to take a picture. Her book was waaaay too good. Have I mentioned how much this girl likes to read? Its She's amazing.

Oh, hi Elsa.

And just to remind us who the older child is in case the firm, controlling grip doesn't give it away. 

Raising sisters. A unique experience I am so thankful to be a part of even if I get a little nervous about all it entails, sometimes.

Moving On

We finally made our decision. We are packing up and moving on to new horizons with a pit stop first in Indiana for the month of June to birth us a baby. We decided to go now because apparently its frowned upon to fly in the ninth month of pregnancy. Guess no one finds it cool to see a mom deliver a baby on an airplane. Whatever, wimps. 


I have no hesitation in going away for the summer and know the girls will have an absolute ball in Indiana, the land of green grass, swing sets, corn fields and family at every corner. I would be lying if I tried to convince anyone, including myself, that I am not a little intimidated by the thought of tending to three babies, alone. It's not the baby that scares me (sleep, feed, sleep, feed). It is these little ones that frighten me. 

I can't imagine they would be too satisfied being cooped up all summer waiting for baby bruda to finish napping. Destruction of, well, everything would be the ultimate result. Indiana will be good for them where I can open the door and they can run and run to their hearts content with a loving family member not far off their tails.


Now to just figure out the best method to convince a three year old that she is moving. For good. That her room will no longer be her room. That she isn't going back to school. So far when I try to explain this to her, she can't ever get past the fact that she, "Is going to Nana's house, to use her own garden tools, and swing on the two swings, and she gets to bring a suitcase." I guess she will figure it out. Kids are extremely adaptable, so I've heard. 


Unfortunately my child is far too familiar with airports, saying goodbye, and the geography of the world, or at least the places where her favorite people live and travel to often. She announced to her class yesterday when discussing full names that her name is, "Nyah St. Croix". 

Wherever we live, whatever we do, I guess I can rest easy knowing we have planted the seeds of freedom, curiosity, discovery and travel in her that will hopefully stick with her always. These girls are Cruzan through and through. We or they will be back, no doubt about it.

Walking Shoes

Where will they go, who will they be, what challenges lie in their pathes. What does life have in store for these two beautiful girls? 


Whatever their journeys bring, I hope they remain as devoted, close and patient with each other as they show to be at times, times like these. 

Little sister trying to walk in big sisters shoes.

Big sister helping little put "The Converse" on, as she calls them, then trying to once again master the entire process of putting on shoes. The tie. 

She tries and tries again. At home and at school, slowing our every departure with her multiple attempts. Practice, practice, obsessive practice.

And little sister waits patiently and my mind wonders, contemplating the questions above, my soul at ease in a calm and peaceful smile, enjoying the moment with my most beloved. I then focus in on the situation and notice this. 

Hear the angels sing. Behold the accomplishment. She has done it. She tied the shoe. The first I've seen. 


Way to go wonderful sister, way to help your sister out. Don't ever stop.