The other day, A had the bad hiccups (heeeeeccups, as we say). This was like the third day in a row she has had them off and on.
heeeeeccup
"Momma, I'm falling apart!"
heeeeeccup
"I don't wanna be Mrs. Hiccup girl!"
So we tried all the tricks to get rid of them--holding her breath, drinking the water, standing on her head. Finally, I told her to go sit on the couch in the living room and wait for me. I told her not to peek and everything. She must've thought I was bringing her something good. A surprise. A treat.
heeeeeccup
Like the good and loving Momma that I am, I snuck up behind the couch on all fours and popped up behind her with a trememdous, "BOOOOO!"
She hopped up about three feet in the air, her body vibrating in terror (she probably wet her pants a little)...and then the tears. Lots of tears. Those genuine, scared-o-the-boogey-man tears. Of course, I'm right there, taking her in my arms, kissing, kissing (sorry, sorry, sorry, baby, Momma had to scare the hiccups away...).
I hold her little face in my hands and make her look at me. "Anymore hiccups?" (kiss, kiss, kiss)
I can see her little, precious mind working. Then she smiles and says, "Nope." Then she laughs. It's funny now. She wants me to do it again. So of course, I do.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Socks And All
What is up with my girls waking up at o'crack-of-dawn-thirty? Helloooo...it's SUNDAY. This morn both girls were up and rearing to go at 6:53 a.m.! On school days I usually wake them up at 7:05 a.m. and it's like pulling teeth to get them out of bed (I'm sure you know the drill)! I first go in and gently tell them to wakey-wakey. Go make my bed. Go back turn on the hall light and tell them...wake up, sweeeetie piiiiies. Little kisses on the cheekies. Go feed the cat, brush teeth. Go back and turn on their lights in their room. Get up. Now. Ooooooh...and the rest of the morning is full of slowness and grumpies and socks that don't fit. I know there's a God, cuz every school day morning it takes a miracle to get my girls out the door (You CANNOT wear flip flops to school!). There is always major drama happening in those 45 minutes before we are out the door. Spilt milk. I've made the wrong flavored pop tart. Someone is always crying (Fine! Wear the flip flops!). Always.
But on the weekends, the days where we can get that bless-ED sleep, they are rearing to go well before 7 a.m.. Socks and all. They are the best of friiiiiends. They understand the concept of sharing things. Kind words. They make their beds. They make their own breakfast and manage to not spill the whole gallon of milk. They brush each other's hair. It's bliss. For them. I can't quite wrap my tirED brain around it. On school nights I'm crazy about getting them to bed at 7:30 p.m. I have hit the wall well before then and I turn into a werewolf at precisely 7:31 p.m. Ask my hubby. But on non-school nights, we have movie nights, we play outside until it's dark. We have candy. I...don't...get...it. Ah well, regardless of my lack o' beauty sleep (there just are not enough hours in the night for that one anyway), my cheerful disposition, no one's crying. I'm not hating that.
But on the weekends, the days where we can get that bless-ED sleep, they are rearing to go well before 7 a.m.. Socks and all. They are the best of friiiiiends. They understand the concept of sharing things. Kind words. They make their beds. They make their own breakfast and manage to not spill the whole gallon of milk. They brush each other's hair. It's bliss. For them. I can't quite wrap my tirED brain around it. On school nights I'm crazy about getting them to bed at 7:30 p.m. I have hit the wall well before then and I turn into a werewolf at precisely 7:31 p.m. Ask my hubby. But on non-school nights, we have movie nights, we play outside until it's dark. We have candy. I...don't...get...it. Ah well, regardless of my lack o' beauty sleep (there just are not enough hours in the night for that one anyway), my cheerful disposition, no one's crying. I'm not hating that.
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