One more time, with puking!

I'm beginning to wonder if dunking all the FarmHands in bleach is a feasible alternative to the massive amount of sick we've got running through this house.

Last night Bitsy came home from kindergarten with a stomach ache and I had a raging head ache. She spent all night on the toilet or puking in an ice cream bucket. I spent all night sitting on the little step stool in the bathroom waiting for her to get done so I could clean us both up, sanitize, and lotion my hands. She alternated between passing out and crying in pain all night. I alternated between being sleepless and reading The Hobbit and snoozing in between trips to the bathroom. I moved Bitsy's mattress into my room and put her next to the bed so I could get to her quickly and she wouldn't wake the rest of the FarmHands during the night.

That forced Husband to the couch in a sleeping bag for the night.  I think he may have slept 3 hours before the older 'Hands started arguing and banging around in the kitchen.

When Bitsy and I finally crawled out of bed at 10:30 this morning my head felt like it was being used as a bongo by a rather enthusiastic hippy in a drum circle. Every movement made my head pound. Every sound made me cringe. The light was too bright. Talking hurt like Hades.

Busha was sure it was a sinus head ache because of the massive amount of pressure in my head when I bent over but I hadn't had any other sinus symptoms. Web MD tells me I could have been experiencing a migraine. Since they run in my family, I wouldn't be terribly surprised. I didn't have any nausea but the other symptoms lined up nicely.

Daddy called and I told him what was going on. He suggested caffeine and I managed to get half a cup of instant coffee down before I crashed again. It helped more than the 2 extra strength ibuprofen I'd already taken.

Bitsy seems better.  She hasn't puked in 14 hours and has been off the toilet for most of the day.

 My head doesn't hurt at the moment (but I'm also not really moving and it's pretty dark in here except for the television and computer screen glows....oh, and I'm wearing noise canceling ear buds but not actually listening to anything).

I am so very over this winter.

You'd think I'd have learned the first time.

#1 Son has crazy hair. It's thick. It grows fast. It's coarse. He has 3 crowns and a cow lick. His hair is a hot mess. All that said, it took me putting his hair in pig tails to get his dad to agree it was time to take him to get his first hair cut.  Being that I wanted to strike while the iron was hot (i.e. while Dad was still on board), I ran him into Walmart to Smart Style to get his hair cut.

When we were paired up with a stylist I explained his hair to her and told her it had to be left longer on the top because without the weight of long hair, it would stick straight up in the air. She nodded and agreed and discussed it with me, then she cut it short and it stuck straight up in the air.

After that I decided I could butcher their hair at home for free and save us the $12 a cut would cost. Yes, there were a few times I did a less than stellar job but for the most part #1 Son and B.B. have looked well groomed thanks to a pair of shears QM grabbed for me from a Sally Hansen outlet.

I continued to go to Smart Style to get my hair cut on and off for the next 8 or 9 years. They usually did a decent job.

Then BabyGirl convinced her Daddy to let her get her hair cut short. We were out running errands so again we popped in to Smart Style but this time in a different town. BabyGirl and I explained the chin length bob she wanted and that she did not want any layers.  When we got home I took a good look at the cut and realized it was a good inch shorter in the front than in the back giving her a bit of a Dutch Boy cut.  Not exactly flattering but too short for me to do much about.  6 weeks later I broke the shears out and fixed it. She was much happier with my cut than the one from Walmart.

Flash forward a few more years (and attempts at finding a beauty shop I like) I popped in to get the much needed post head lice hair cut. The stylist did a wonderful job and I was thrilled. I returned to her 3 or 4 more times over the course of the year and she always did a perfect job.  I even messaged the corporate site to tell them what a fabulous stylist she was.

Then she left.

My next hair cut was something out of a picture book of 30 something moms trying desperately to look hip and failing in a big way.  I made it almost 2 months worth of growing out before I called up a mom from school to see if she could fix my mess. She did and I've stuck with her ever since.

Well, today Husband surprised us all by asking Bitsy if she'd like to get her hair cut.  We had a funeral to attend but he told her we'd follow it up with a trip to Smart Style to have her hair cut. I've been pushing for the cut since I went back to work and Bitsy has shown up at school most mornings looking like we don't own a hair brush.  It's not Husband's fault. He doesn't do pony tails or braids and her baby fine hair tangles so easily that a thorough brushing doesn't last long.  I wanted a chin length bob but Dad would only go as far as the collar bone.

This is what we ended up with:

Yup. That's how they sent my daughter out the door.

And I missed it.

She had on a dark dress with a collar. I had 3 other kids and a husband who were tired of waiting around. Bitsy wasn't truly talking so I wasn't sure if she was OK with having her hair short or not.  I did a cursory check and noticed there were a few wild hairs but that's to be expected when someone is cutting a 5 year old's hair. I tipped the stylist $2 on a $11 bill (I never ever do not tip my stylist) and headed home.

It wasn't until I was putting her in the bath that I noticed just how bad it was.

I wet her hair down, plopped her on the bar stool, and proceeded to fix it myself.

 The floor after I cut another 1/2 to 1 inch off her hair. Glad we went with the initial length near her collar bone or there wouldn't have been enough to fix. I trimmed tiny bits off at a time hoping to avoid taking off too much more. It could not be avoided.

 The back of Bitsy's hair after I fixed it.  As soon as I took this picture I sent an email to Smart Style's corporate head quarters telling them just how dissapointed I was in their stylists. I told them I doubted that they bother to check the quality of their stylists work. My guess is if you're licensed and willing to put in your hours, they'll hire you.

Bitsy's thrilled with the finished product. Personally, I think I did a pretty decent job if I do say so myself.  I'm happy for her.  Husband will have less of a battle in the mornings.  That's all that really matters.

Smart Style will never part me with my money again.

Bless her little heart.

There's a little boy from school who's had to have heart valve replacement surgery this summer.  We've been praying for him and talking about him a lot the past week or so.  He's going into first grade and is the sweetest little boy you'd ever want to meet.

Today we picked up some art goodies for him at the store to help keep him happily occupied this summer.  We're planning on taking them to him sometime this week.  Bitsy got a bit bent out of shape about giving him stuff when she wasn't getting anything (such a generous heart that one has, ha, ha, ha).  I explained that we were getting him some art stuff because he can't go outside and run around and play and go swimming this summer like she can.  "Why not?"

"Well, because A had to have surgery, sweetie."

"Like you did, Mommy?"

"Sort of.  But I just had to have a little cut in my belly.  He's had to have a big cut in his chest.  It's going to take A a lot longer to get better than it's taken me."

"Why did A have to have a big cut on his chest?"

"Because part of his heart needed to be fixed so he had heart surgery."

Then Bitsy got very quite and though rather hard for a bit.  "Mommy, does A still love Jesus?"

I was seriously taken back by this.  "What, Baby?"

"Does A still love Jesus?"

Then it sunk in.  "Do you mean because he had to have heart surgery and Jesus lives in our hearts?"

"Yes.  Does Jesus still live in A's heart even after the doctors did surgery?"

"Yes, Baby.  Jesus still lives in A's heart just like He lives in yours.  Doctors cannot take Jesus out of our hearts."

"OK.  Good." And off she went.

Taking dictation from Bitsy.

I have a grandma but now she's my kids' grandma.  I have 2 sons & 3 sisters.  The wolf at their grandma.  Oh no! The wolf ate my sons!  I bud-got (that's Bitsy for "forgot") to bring them home & the wolves ate them.  So Good-bye my grandma.  Now you my grandma, Mom. Oh, guys, her got some toys for you to play with.  I will get them for you.  You don't know how to do anything.  Now I cut the wolf in half and got my sons out.  Now I playing Red Riding Hood.  The story- Red Riding Hood (as opposed to what?)  I got my sons a lot of stuff because them gonna' get married.  I got them a license plate, but I only got one.  (Now she's singing what can only be described as Preschool Scat).  Oh, what is this?  I think I see someone I know.  2 people I know, actually (she's looking at a picture of our entire extended family).  Mom!  I see your mom-Grammy.  And Pa!  I see Pa.  And maybe also Daddy, too.  I'd better put that back.

HI!!! (The kids are walking in the door) Did you yous sucker?

     Now, imagine this going on for hours & hours & hours at a time & you've just gotten a brief look into the life of Bitsy.

Oh, and before I forget, Princess called me last night.  "You don't need to worry."

"OK.  That's good to know.  What am I not worrying about?"

"Your nephew's penis only shoots pee, not bullets."

"Thank you.  I've been worried about that for weeks.  How did you find out?"

"He announced it....very loudly....in the bathroom at Logan's Roadhouse."

"Well, wasn't that nice of him?"

Yup, that's HT in a nut shell.

From the mouth of Bitsy.

"BabyGirl isn't cleaning so I'm on pause."  -Bitsy after getting in trouble for laying on her sister's bed when she was supposed to be cleaning her room.

"It's gonna' be so beautiful that you can't even see it even with Jesus.  It's gonna' be sparkly and beautiful."  -Bitsy on the picture of Dora she colored a few minutes ago.

I'm really going to have to start carrying a note pad with me to write down the odd things she says everyday.  There were many more, but I can't remember them at the moment.

First you see him, then you don't- or how to get a new kitten just by going to school.

We accidentally have a new kitten. How does one accidentally acquire a kitten? I shall tell you.

Monday morning I took the FarmHands to school as usual. When we walked in the building I heard a small meow come from some landscaping near the front doors. There's been a stray mother cat hanging around the school for the past few weeks so I assumed it was one of her kittens & didn't think much of it.

After dropping the kids off, I went to Bucka & Busha's for a visit. When I was going in the house, I heard another meow. I assumed it was Bucka's tom cat, Jake, coming to check out my van as he normally does. Busha came out of the house & told me Jake hadn't been let out of the garage yet.

We started hunting for the source of the pitiful crying when Busha said, "Pop your hood." Sure enough, there was a gray striped fur ball trying to hide behind my engine. He attempted to climb down into the components just as I snatched hold of his tail. With some tugging & coaxing, eventually Busha & I managed to get him out of my van.

Much to my surprise, he seemed rather tame & very willing to be held. We boxed him up in a spare kennel & I took him home with me to be wormed & fed.

Bitsy instantly fell in love. His name changed a few times in the first few minutes she had him in custody, but eventually she settled on Camo since he matched the new camouflage shirt she was wearing. Since then, Camo Cat has been packed around the farm, held in odd manners, not allowed to set a paw on the ground, force fed anything resembling cat food, & loved on until he can no longer stand it. Oddly enough, he seems to enjoy all the smothering attention & has (thus far) decided to live here for good.

I only hope Bitsy doesn't kill him with kindness. He is really cute.

Finally, a real friend!!

If you've been here any length of time, you've probably heard of Moomah, Neenee, and Googah. They're Bitsy's best friends. They also happen to be imaginary. The three of them started pre-k with her this week. Luckily their ages are rather fluid. Once they were all grown women with children of their own. For a while they were "big girls like BabyGirl." Of late, they've all been four years old & ready for preschool.

Bitsy is the first of the FarmHands to really have long term imaginary friends. The Girls have had many adventures & even done some jail time once or twice. I was a bit concerned that they would be Bitsy's sole companions since she doesn't seem to have much use for kids her own age.

After her first full day of Pre-K she came home telling me all about a girl at school named Emily. Emily must be amazing because she's all Bitsy talked about Wednesday night. "Mommy, Me played with Emily in centers today. Emily talked to me and I talked to her. Emily....Emily....Emily...." You get the picture. As she was settling down for the night the conversation turned a bit more....depressing.

"Mommy, me think Emily not gonna' be at school tomorrow."

Why not?

"Me think maybe her gonna' be sick."

I don't think so. I'm pretty sure Emily will be there. Don't worry about it.

"But me think maybe her not. Me think maybe her hava' go to the doctor."

It's only the second day of school. She'll probably be there.

"Maybe her hava' take her dad to the doctor."

Did she say she had to take her dad to the doctor?

"No, but maybe her have to. Maybe him hava' have surgery so maybe Emily hava' take him to the doctor."

Oh, well, I'm not sure. I hope her dad doesn't have to have surgery. Let's not worry too much about it. We'll see if she's there tomorrow. OK?

*sigh* "Ok."

Surprisingly, Emily was at school on Wednesday. No mention of her dad having surgery. In fact, the baby sitter picked her up & we had a brief chat about Bitsy's new obsession with Emily. (Incidentally, the baby sitter used to watch IT Superguy, Ray-ray, Beffie, and J when they were little.)

When we got home I asked Bitsy how Moomah, Neenee, and Googah had done at school. I've been a bit worried considering the time they've done in The Big House. I'm not sure they'll adapt to circle time and line leaders without falling back on shivs and gang violence. Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. They're not going to be at school this week. Can you guess why?


They had to take their dad to the doctor so he could have surgery on his leg.

I wrote the above post while house sitting for IT Superguy & A Starry Night while they were at a funeral. They're having their kitchen remodeled & wanted someone to keep an eye on the contractors. High speed Internet is heavenly.

When I picked Bitsy up from Busha's after my grocery shopping, Busha informed me that Moomah had been to Pre-K today. Miss G (the teacher) didn't know she was there. Busha also told me that sadly, both of Moomah's parents have died. But a miracle must have occurred because before Bitsy & I left the driveway, they were alive again. I guess it's not only their ages that are fluid.

I hope Emily has better luck with her parents.

Today I had an empty nest.

For three hours...but I wasn't in it. I was at Busha & Bucka's sipping coffee & laughing with my grandmother.

Bitsy started Pre-K today. I'm not really sure I was prepared for this. It's not like it was a great surprise. I had her screened in March. We've known for months this was coming. But still, dropping your baby off at school for the first time is a bit overwhelming....especially when she doesn't seem to notice you're gone.

Yesterday was visit day & she was glued to my thigh. Occasionally she would venture off into the class to check something out, but only if I was in a direct line of sight & only if another child was no where near what she wanted to look at. Today she tried to leave me as soon as we got to the front doors of the school. I walk her to her room, make sure she gets her back pack hung up, walk her to the play ground door, then say good bye. She tried to tell me good bye three times before we got to the play ground.

To answer your question: No. I did not cry. Not a bit. It was much easier than I expected. Does that come from three previous "first day" survivals or does it stem from the total amazement at three hours almost entirely to myself every week day of the school year? You decide. I'm going to take a nap.

Where can we find Scrubs in a 4T?

Bitsy is developing her own language. Her new favorite word is Bloop. And Keeks. I'm not sure what either one means, but she sure uses them a lot. Today she told me, "Me just like to make up my own words. Me was gonna' say 'Keeks' on Friday, but me didn't." Every time she gets in trouble she tries to explain it away with a Bloop. "Me was holding that book, but then, Bloop! It just flied across the room," or, "Me was just by B.B. and me blooped. Dat's why me hit him." Much to her amazement, I'm not falling for it. We went to Uncle E's house on Saturday only to discover Aunt C had a duckling following her around the house while she did chores. Uncle E brought the duckling home from town on Friday and JL quickly named it Diesel. Bitsy needed to go see Diesel today. I was unaware just how terrifying a small duck can be. Every time Diesel came near her, she tried to climb up my neck to escape from him. After Beffie put him back in his box, he jumped out & startled her so badly, she dumped his water dish in the floor. I'm telling you, ducklings are scary! Rachie just got a new job at the hospital. Bitsy is thrilled that her Rachie is a nurse. Today Beffie gave Bitsy a badge clip that nurses wear their work ID's on. I had to make Bitsy her own ID so she could clip it on her shirt, grab her doctor's kit, and be a nurse just like her Rachie. She's been on the hunt for sick folks ever since. "Hey! Any sick people in here? Yoohoo! Any sick people?!" Guess we'll be OK when the American Health Care System collapses. We've got Bitsy.

Nurture or Nature: The Great Debate

(First of all, I must apologize for the total lack of paragraph breaks in this & the previous posts. Blogger is eating them. I promise, I do have some minor grasp of paragraph structure.) After reading my last post, my father called me to lodge an official complaint. "I refuse to take responsibility for Bitsy acting just like her mother!" So I promised to tell the real story of our trip to The Hotel. ***This was Bitsy's first stay at a hotel. She was over the moon excited about it because I mentioned the words "swimming" and "pool." Past that, she couldn't have cared less about the trip. At one point she wasn't even sure she was going to grace us with her presence. The thrill of getting to ride in H.T.'s car seat in Grammy's HHR combined with the promise of a swim was what won her over in the end. Forget the fact that we were going to visit her great-grandparents or that there was going to be a special church service honoring her great-grandpa's years of service as an elder. This trip was all about the hotel. ***Upon our return to the hotel the first night we were met at the pool by a horde of 12 year old boys in town for a national wrestling competition. If you've never been in a 30 foot by 15 foot swimming pool with 45 pre-teen boys, you haven't lived. I nearly fainted from all the testosterone in the water. But it didn't phase Bitsy. She was going to swim. And suddenly her Pa was her favorite person in the world. ***I was a bit relieved. You see, the two had spent the past 8 hours arguing over her name. About a year ago, Bitsy officially changed her name to "Bitsy Bee Coconut Middlename FarmHand." About a month ago, her Pa added to it making it "Bitsy Bee Coconut Middlename Bubblegum Applebee FarmHand." She's not too happy with his additions. I was pretty sure she was going to wash her hands of him entirely. ***At Montana Mike's Saturday night, she got rather vocal with him about what her name really is. Between her grandfather's pestering and the fact that her grilled cheese wasn't ready within seconds of us ordering, she was a bit put out. ***Sunday morning, she decided to sleep in. Not surprising after her big day of travel, arguments, elevator riding and swimming...but also not really possible since we had to be at church well before 9 am. Pa knocked on the door shortly after seven to see if we were ready for breakfast. He sat on the edge of the bed & said, "Bitsy, wake up. Do you want to go downstairs with me and get a waffle?" Bitsy promptly popped up, put on her socks, and headed to the elevator with her Pa.*** At breakfast, she got very quiet. When I asked what was wrong, she started crying and choked out, "Me miss my daddy." Poor thing. ***When we headed back up to our room, she started jabbering away. "Me was sleepin' and Pa comed in and waked me up. Me was sleepin' and me was going to dream to my daddy when Pa comed in and waked me up. Him said, 'You want to come eat breakfast?' and me was going to dream to my daddy and Pa ruined my dream!" In the car on the way to church, she chewed him out for ruining her dream. ***Church was rather trying for her. Bitsy doesn't talk to strangers. Heck, Bitsy rarely talks to people she knows. At home she's a chatter box, but in mixed company, she's silent at the grave. Now here she was, surrounded by people who'd known me since I was an infant and they all wanted to talk to Mini-FarmWife. Bitsy was having no part of it. She started holes through most of the congregation. ***At lunch with the family, Pa continually stole Bitsy's chicken leg off her plate. She had been very worried that she wouldn't get a chicken leg, and that man wouldn't leave it alone. Add to that being talked to by her aunts and uncles, and I think Bitsy was nearly at the end of her rope. ***Before the evening service, we went back to the hotel to rest a bit and get dressed. Pa told Bitsy, "I was going to dream about Grammy and you woke me up." Her head snapped around and she said, "You waked me up when me was gonna' dream to my daddy and you ruined my dream. Dat's why me waked you up and ruined your dream." She didn't notice he wasn't sleeping. ***In the car on the way back to church, Bitsy asked where we were going. When Pa told her she said, "To church again?" Yes. "Two times?" Yes. "In a row?!" It was practically torture. But in the end she was rewarded with a piece of cake at the reception afterwards and another, much less crowded, swim at the hotel. ***By Monday morning she began referring to home as "my old house," and trying to convince me she wanted to stay at the hotel forever....until someone mentioned her daddy. ***Oh, and I forgot to mention the constant back & forth she and her Pa had over money. Every time we'd get somewhere (hotel, restaurant, store) he'd turn to her and ask, "How much money do you have?" To which she'd roll her eyes and sigh before saying, "Me don't have money, Pa. You hava' pay." After all, what are Pa's for? ***So, now it's up to you to decide. Is Bitsy's new found attitude a result of genetics (my fault, me being the snarky Prima Donna I am) or of the endless pestering by her grandfather over the weekend (Pa's fault by way of irritating and aggravating her)? You may settle this debate.

She's got Bette Davis 'tude.

I fear Bitsy's weekend stint as an only child has scarred her for life. It wasn't the first time she was the only FarmHand with numerous adults, but it was the first time she was truly conscious of the total lack of siblings. In fact, not only did she have my undivided attention for an entire weekend, but she had Grammy, Pa, Uncle Greenteeth, Aunt Anita, Uncle M, Aunt D, and Grandma & Grandpa M&M all vying for her attention. The grown-up to Bitsy ratio was way out of whack....and I think she liked it. Since we got home she has barely tolerated the presence of her older siblings. She's been exceptionally bossy. She's not dealt well with their interference in her life. She's been rather out of sorts with her brothers and sister. And that's just the beginning. She's copped some major attitude towards me in the past few days. Yesterday I told her to pick up her babies and put them back in the shopping cart they live in. She yelled at me and stomped her foot before finally condescending to do what she was told. Once done, her little head snapped around & she said, "There. Are you happy now?" As you can imagine, that went over well....once I quit choking on a giggle. She's informed me many times that I've ruined her game or picture she's coloring. She's taunted her siblings with, "Ha, ha. Me told you!" even when she's done nothing of the kind. She's deluded herself into believing she's the boss of all of us. I blame her Pa. After a full weekend of being harassed by her grandfather, the poor thing has lost her grip on reality. Now I must strive to get her sassy little pants back on track. I'm getting a bit tired of living with a mini-Bette Davis.

Step Right Up!

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Last week Husband and I found ourselves facing an entirely new beast. One we've never seen before in our 9+ years of parenting. She didn't want a hair cut. She wanted her hair to stop growing. She simply wanted her hair to stay where it is indefinitely. Unfortunately, that is one super power I am lacking. (Incidentally, she also does not want to grow up. Recently she said she wants to be three when she grows up...not a mommy or a teacher....just three.)

And Bitsy wasn't in the mood to be persuaded that this wasn't something I could will into happening. She threw herself face down in the floor & screamed. The tears flowed freely. The breathing was rapid & labored. Life as we knew it had come to an end.

I scooped her up and cuddled her in my lap crooning softly about how hair just grows & there isn't much that can be done to stop it. She continued to fall apart. Her daddy told her she needed to grow her hair out long so someday, when she's a flower girl for someone, she can have long beautiful hair to go with her beautiful dress. "Me not wanna' be a fwower girl!" (Not even for Beffie or Rachie when the time comes. She said Beffie could be Rachie's flower girl and, "Daddy tan be Beffie's fwower girl. Him be good at it.")

After 20 minutes of heart wrenching tragedy, Husband got up, walked across the room to us, rubbed her scalp with his fingertips, said some "magic words," and told her her hair had stopped growing.

Bitsy stopped crying, climbed off my lap, & went back to what ever it was she was doing to entertain herself prior.

Now Uncle Right Rev & Uncle Gick want Husband to rub their heads & say his magic words backwards so they're hair will start to grow.

A sure sign

Spring is coming. The proof of it was in my laundry room Saturday morning trying to get warm.

I had just logged on to Facebook to find out what I had missed in the night when Husband came in the back door with a small white limp bundle in his hands. He hollered for me to change into old clothes, grab some towels, and come to the laundry room. When I got there I could see the poor lamb he was holding was half frozen and still covered with after birth. I wrapped the lamb in one towel and tossed the rest in the dryer to warm up.

When Husband went out to do chores he found the ewe and her twin lambs in the woods. It had snowed the night before and the lamb he brought me was laying with his legs splayed out behind him in the snow. He wasn't getting up and obviously hadn't been able to nurse.

Bitsy and I spent the morning rubbing him with warm towels, rocking him, talking to him, and praying he'd stand up. She named him 'Woody.' After about 30 minutes I got out a book we have about sheep and found out giving him some milk (from his mother) could help him gain enough strength to stand. Husband milked the ewe and we offered the little guy his bottle. He guzzled it down and started baaa-ing for more.

Husband held him up so he could try standing. Once Woody was steady, Husband let him put some weight on his feet. That's when Woody tried to make a mad dash for my lap. Well, as mad a dash as a noodle legged new born lamb can make. He flopped into my lap & head butted my stomach and chest looking for more to eat.

After more than an hour of worry and work, Woody got to go back out to live with his mom & twin brother. It broke my heart a bit when he left me for his real mom, but it would have broken it much more if he'd have given up in my laundry room. I'm sure it would have crushed Bitsy to pieces as one look at his fuzzy little face and she was a goner.

We now have twin girl lambs born last Monday named Jessie and Bo Peep and twin boy lambs named Buzz and Woody. Thus far we haven't had a lamb live through the summer, but I'm still holding out hope that the cast of Toy Story will make it.

It may still be a few weeks away, but Spring is definitely on it's way.

And life comes to a screeching halt.

I no more than hit publish on my last post when things went to Hades around here. Well, it did for Bitsy, anyway.

She had just finished her chocolate chip cookie when she proudly brought me another. "Dis one for Moomah!" She was so happy to have gotten a cookie for her imaginary friend. I said, "No. Moomah can't have a cookie. I have to put it up." Most things gotten for Moomah become Bitsy's possessions.

This must have caused some kind of catastrophe that I know nothing of because Bitsy collapsed on the floor in a heap of sobs and tears. Her poor little heart was absolutely shattered because Moomah was not allowed a cookie.

Being a mother, I picked up the sobbing pile and sat it on my lap. Between gasps and sobs she told me she wanted to take a shower. "You've already had your bath tonight, Baby." I thought the crying couldn't get worse.

I was wrong.

She must have had a few tenuous strands of self control still in her grasp & when I denied her a shower the snapped. Screams, sobs, wails of misery erupted from her tiny form. "Me not say me want a bath. Me say me want a shower. Why me never get a take a shower? Why #1 Son take a shower? Me want a bath!"

She was so upset she slid off my lap and hollered, "Don't touch me!" Unfortunately, she's only three and really needs to be held when her world falls apart. It took her about 7 seconds to realize I was the only parental unit available for comfort and she returned to my lap to sob out the remainder of the moisture left in her body.

It is so hard being three.

A bright dazzling light in the midst of the fog.

It's been a foggy day. Not literally, but emotionally. It's too cold to venture out for long. There's not much to do around the house that doesn't take effort I don't want to put in (I know, I'm at fault here). There's been a lot of crying and fighting and bickering amongst the FarmHands. Husband and I have been testy with each other. We've just not been at our best.

But there was one moment that made me remember why this is all worth it.

BabyGirl was invited to a swimming/birthday party next Sunday. She's over the moon about it. Bitsy is neon green with envy. Bitsy had a complete come apart this afternoon when her sister was trying on swim suits.

"Why me not go to da party?! Why me not go swimming? Why me have these bumps? Why B.B. not say sorry to me for giving me these bumps? Me never get a go swimming in my life! When Daddy put up our pool? When me go swimming?" She bawled and wailed and sobbed for a full 30 minutes.

I'm not mean. I promise. This party is for 4th graders. A 3 year old would not be welcome. Besides she's still sporting a healthy sprinkling of molluscum contagiosum and that doesn't need to be shared via public swimming pools. Bitsy simply cannot go. And she is broken hearted about it.

During this meltdown, Bitsy insisted on trying on one of her swim suits. I didn't know what was going on until she was already clad in bright pink Lycra and insisting that she needed to swim. When I said it was too cold to swim, the meltdown hit a record high. I hoped feared she's slip into a tantrum induced coma.

Suddenly BabyGirl piped up with a brilliant (if rather obvious) suggestion. "Can she go swimming in the bath tub?" Bitsy was thrilled with the idea and jumped at the opportunity. If BabyGirl hadn't seen the obvious answer past the screaming & crying, we might still be trapped in the never ending cycle that is a determined 3 year old.

And momentarily, the fog broke and the sun shone through.

Deep Breaths

Bitsy just found a twenty cent piece her dad brought back from a mission trip to Mexico 10 years ago. She asked if she could have it & I said yes. "Thank you pretty much," she replied followed by shouts of, "Me keep dis forever & forever & forever & forever!"

Her favorite magic trick is hiding her hands behind her back & saying, "Hey,wheremyhandsgo?Ta-da!Magic!" all in one breath as she jerks them up in front of her face.

In spite of all the hilarity happening around me, I'm struggling to keep it together tonight. My head hurts. The FarmHands are hell bent on making me nuts. There are tasks that need tackling that I simply do not have the motivation to get to now.

It snowed last night. Just enough to make the side roads slippery & a very sleepy Husband have to crawl out of bed & drive me to town for groceries. The snow kept falling all afternoon but oddly what was on the ground continued to melt. Now it's a cold, slushy, muddy mess which means the FarmHands will be house bound all weekend. This is not a good prospect at the moment.

Maybe a session of Zumba will help. It sure can't hurt. Unless of course I pass out in the floor and the FarmHands are left to fend for themselves until their father gets home from work at odd hours of the morning.

It's Oh So Quiet.

It is oddly quiet in my house. Husband just left for work. Bitsy is taking a nap. Lilly May & Buddy Joe are sitting quietly at my feet. The television is off. The only noise is the tapping of my fingers on the key board and the air purifier humming away...and the occasional beagle howling outside.

I'm not sure I can deal with this much silence.

Yesterday was my fifth Blogoversary and I missed it. Even with my nifty countdown button on the side bar. I totally missed it. Oh well.

I'm beginning to wonder about Bitsy. She's always been a bit on the quite and shy side unless alone at home with "her people." But lately her personality is shining through like a search light. Who is this child & what has she done with my baby?

Yesterday we brought home a bag of hand-me-downs from a friend at school. She squealed with delight and screamed, "This is FABULOUS!" and, "Me be BEAUTIFUL in this!" until she was blue in the face. She then proceeded to wear three shirts and 2 pairs of shorts all at the same time.

Sunday night she decided she was going to sing a special at our annual candle light service. I went up with her and she sang Jesus Loves Me and Jesus Loves the Little Children. Normally she refuses to sing Deep & Wide with the other kids during Children's Minute on Sunday mornings because people are watching.

Today I made blackened salmon, baked pirogi, and stir-fry veggies for lunch. Bitsy wrapped herself around my legs and shouted, "Thank you make me vegetables! Me LOVE vegetables! Dem make me hop around like dis: Hop, hop, hop!" And later it was, "Thank you make me salmon! Me LOVE salmon! It give me strong muscles. Feel my muscles, Mom. Dem is big like God's!"

She's becoming more flamboyant, more outgoing, and more over the top every day. I told her she was turning into Fancy Nancy. She said, "Me not Fancy Nancy. Her tan't do splits like me." Then she jumped in the air and landed in a funny little leg sprawl she calls the splits.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, she is her mother after all.

Let's take a walk...

Right on over to Ordinary Days to read my second ever guest post! Ordinary Sarah is in the process of moving (yes, the week of Christmas) and she asked me to fill in. Turns out, she even picked a topic for me, but I forgot it and accidentally deleted the email she sent prior to my writing the post. Whoops. But since she said nice things about me and put up my post anyway, I doubt she's too peeved at me.

In other news, today was the last day of school for the FarmHands...and now, 6 hours into Christmas break, they're trying to kill each other. Oh my darling angels. Heaven help us!

Yesterday I ticked Bitsy off a bit. We dropped the kids off at school and drove past the local playground. "Pweese, tan we play at da playground? Pweese, Mommy?" came the plaintive sigh from the back seat.

"I'm sorry, Baby. It's too cold outside. We have to go home."

"Just for 9 seconds? Tan we play just for 9 seconds?" And mean old me wouldn't stop even for nine seconds.

Last night she wanted me to change the sheets on her bed because she found her Winnie-the-Pooh sheets in the closet. I told her next time they needed changed but not just then. "Pweese? Wif cherry on top? Wif hot dog on top? Pweese, Mommy?" I'm such a party pooper.

Yesterday Busha had cataract surgery. While the FarmHands were eating breakfast I told them what was going on. B.B. said, "So we should pray for Busha, right?"

"Yup, Bub. That would be a great idea."

"OK. We can do that at dinner tonight."

"You don't have to wait for dinner. You can pray anytime you like. You don't even have to do it out loud if you don't want to." Bitsy disagreed with that last part & made everyone stop eating so she could pray for Busha. Well, actually so I could pray for Busha and she could repeat me.

Busha told her surgeon and all the hospital staff that she was in good hands because her Great-granddaughter had prayed for her. At her follow up appointment today her doctor said she shouldn't have had the vast improvement in her eye sight that she's had. She said, "Yes I should have. My great-granddaughter prayed for me. That's why it's worked so well." He agreed.

We've prayed for Jacob this week & he's home. We prayed for another friend who had spinal surgery & had a really rough first night. The next day she felt so much better. My kids are seeing the power of prayer first hand & I couldn't be happier.

Band and Best Friends

It turns out, BabyGirl isn't as keen on joining the band as I was keen on her joining the band. Given her choice, she'd much rather learn to play guitar. That sounds much more reasonable to me. I think we'll tuck that idea away for her birthday since her summers are pretty wide open.

There were rental options available for between $25 and $45 a month. Doesn't sound like much, but if you figure it into a rent-to-own option, you end up paying double what the instrument is worth....and it's yet another bill to add to our monthly pile. I really don't want to do that. There are some instruments available for free from the school on a first come first serve basis. But since BabyGirl wasn't all that sure she wanted to join, I figure there are kids who really want to be in band and cannot afford the rental fees.

And the thought of adding to BabyGirl's current work load isn't really something I want to consider. She has so little down time through the week, I'd hate to push her into something she's not sure about.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm a bit worried about Bitsy's imaginary friends. She's the only one of our four kids to really have imaginary friends....and they're not very nice. Neenee hasn't been here in weeks because every time she came to play, she pinched and had to be sent home. Moomah has taken her place as the favorite imaginary friend lately. Moomah sleeps a lot...and goes to the store almost daily. She texts and calls on the old cell phone Uncle Little BIL gave Bitsy constantly, but she's not often around the house. The few times she's been here, she's said things that were "bad" according to Bitsy. Bitsy yells at her and tells her she has to leave. I haven't heard anything about Googie (who's name changes randomly) in quiet a while. Bitsy just told me Googie's been singing lately. Maybe that's why she's too busy to play.

Who has imaginary friends that they don't want to play with? And don't most kids' imaginary friends live at home with the imaginer? Not ours. They all have their own homes or possibly one home they share- I'm not sure. They might have parents of their own (it depends on the day of the week and Bitsy's mood). They all have their own pets. They have lives far apart from ours. They have adventures we know little about.

I guess it's better than when my friend Did had an imaginary boyfriend. She was 5 or 6 (I think). He broke up with her. Maybe Bitsy's related to Did.

Nothing says Christmas like MSG

I've been asking Bitsy what she wants for Christmas for the past few weeks. Most of the time she gives me a list of toys she already has. "Me aweady have 2 Cin'a'rellas. Me aweady have Tinkerbell panties. Me aweady have lots a lots a babies." Occasionally she'll say, "Me want pwesants!" What kind of presents, she's never really sure about.

Today I tried a different approach (because she's currently obsessed with Santa Clause). "Bitsy, what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas this year?"

"One more Tinkerbell panties! Him bwought me Tink panties last time. Him can bwing me one more Tink panties."

"Is there anything else you want, baby?"

"Ummmmm.....OH, Me want Santa bwing me TANDY! Lots a lots a tandy. Me love tandy!"

"Candy, huh? Anything else?"

"Chick'a McNuggetts! Santa tan bwing me Chick'a McNuggetts! Lots and lots and lots and lots of Chick'a McNuggetts from McDonalds!!"

Now how am I supposed to wrap that?