Phases

Once a more experienced mother told me wisely, "Always remember, it's only a phase."

It's true regarding most things. The problem with having kids back-to-back-to-back-to-back is that one child never outgrows a Phase before another child enters it. At any given time I have at least two children in the throes of a Phase.

At the moment, two of them are in the throes of my very very least favorite Phase of all my least favorites Phases: the Let's Wake Up at 5am And See Who Wants To Play Phase.

All of my children have been heavenly, angelic sleepers. Until they turn three. Something wicked happens at age three. Their biological clock begins to nudge them every morning while the world is still black and silent and it promises them that Exciting and Wonderful Things Are Happening at 5am That Mommy Has Been Hiding From You, So Go Wake Her Up.

Mags is plumb in the midst of this Phase.
Eva Rose is still in the midst of this Phase.

Oh, words cannot express just how much I. Hate. This. Phase.

This Phase has not been helped any by moving the two girls in together. It has also not been helped by the fact that their door won't stay shut.

We happen to live on top of a swamp called Houston, and one of the fun things about that is a phenomenon called Settling. Maybe this happens all over the world, I don't know. In Houston it means that, especially during the summer months, one day a door in your home will shut, the next day, poof, it won't. Or maybe one day a door will be stuck, the next day, voila, it won't be.

The door to the girls' room suddenly won't catch in the doorjam. Which leaves our Anti-Phase Threats of "if you get up tomorrow before the sun comes up, we will lock you in your room!" rather impotent.

So I was trying to fix it, and being that I needed to move the door closer to the doorway and I am not Samson, it wasn't going very well. I screwed and I hammered and I removed and I replaced all the hardware but with each attempt, the door stubbornly slid right back open.

The entire time I worked, Shep sat on Eva Rose's bed, wiping the drool off his chin, as the sight of any tool causes him to salivate. Because the entire situation wasn't annoying enough, he chimed in, 'Let me do it, Momma! I can fix it, Momma! Let me try, Momma! I know I can, Momma! PLEASE!!"

Much to his chagrin I declined. Repeatedly.

Finally my amazing Jimmyrigging Skilz came through and yippee! Success. The door shut! Yes! I cheered.

Then I looked my son straight in the eye and said, "Don't. You. Touch. It." Just once? NO! Just once? NO! Please? NO! and then we went out to dinner.

We came home. The girls got on their nightgowns. They got into bed. I kissed them goodnight. I shut the door and...it slid open.

"SHEEEPPPPP! Did you mess with the door after I told you not to?"

Shepherd, in his new blue pirate jammies, peeked his head from his room. "Yes ma'am," he said softly.

At which point I became very very angry. And I fussed. And I yelled. And I fussed and I yelled a little more.

"I'm sorry Momma."

"I forgive you but AHHHHH! I TOLD you NOT to TOUCH it!! You have GOT to LEARN to OBEY!" Punctuated by hammer pounds and screwdriver waving.

After a few more minutes, Shepherd told me, respectfully, as he has been instructed he is allowed to do when his momma misbehaves, "Momma, remember our bible verse, A soft answer turns away wrath."

At which point I gathered him into my arms, kissed him, prayed with him, and begged his forgiveness.

Not.

At which point I said, "Oh yeah, Shep? What about our other bible verse, you remember that one? Children obey your parents. Remember that one, Shep? Huh?"

And then I snarled at him.

I fixed the door. And then I crept into his bed and I snuggled his new blue pirate jammies and I did apologize. I did hug him. I did pray with him.

And he forgave me. Because the sweet boy knows that sometimes, his momma goes through A Phase.

Another game of Pretend We're at Starbucks

I have nothing worth anything to write about. Zippo.

So here comes some rambling.

1) After today's news, I am ever so thankful that I don't live in a lanhat d plagued by tsunamis. That is just frightening. The 2004 tsunami upset me so much, that to this day, whenever I am at the beach I picture all the water receding and then I imagine where I would run, and which children I would grab, and which ones Walker would grab.

Speaking of, I had a dream about that tsunami three days before it happened. I dreamed I was in a hotel with a big balcony that was many stories up, looking out over the beautiful ocean. Suddenly there was water floating over my balcony, and I was very confused because I was too high up for that. Then I saw a baby floating by and tried to grab it...and I saw furniture floating, and then I woke up.

When I later saw all the home video from the tsunami of water flooding over hotel balconies, it freaked me out. I actually felt guilty about it. Really guilty because I know it is rather unbiblical to be p-sychic (pronounce the p). Walker finally told me that a) it wasn't like I had asked for the dream and b) nor had I set up a 1-900 number and changed my name to Miss Cleo and started charging my friends $3 a minute to read their ice tea leaves, either.

I felt better after that.
And I have yet to predict another international disaster.
Which is just fine with me.

2) Last night was Ears and Nails night. After their bath, I cut all the kids fingernails and toenails, which amounted to 80. That's a lot of nails, huh? I also q-tipped 8 ears. Which was gross but incredibly cathartic.

3) Tonight Walker said, "Do we have any Real Housewives of Atlanta to watch?" Dear God, I love that man.

4) We - okay, I - moved all the bedrooms around last week. Eva Rose had been sleeping in Ike's room, and Maggie had her own room. I moved the girls together and moved Ike into Maggie's old room. Which means I disassembled and reassembled his crib. All my myself. (I hope you are clapping.) I also went through every single stinking thing in both closets and switched them all out. It was a HUGE PROJECT. For which I am VERY VERY PROUD OF MYSELF.

Problem is, now we are dealing with the girls sleeping together consistently for the first time. This part has not been fun. I have circles under my eyes to prove it.

5) My friend Rebecca and I are starting a little consignment business for boutique children's clothes. This was begun partly because I made about 25 cents on Orient Expressed this year and partly because I am too lazy to put the girls' old stuff on ebay. So if you are in Houston...here is the info. Clean out your closets and/or come shop. I think it is going to be very fun. And hopefully will make a little ca-zash because international adoption? Not cheap.

That's all I got. It ain't much.

NeNe and Kim, here we come...don't be tardy for the party.

Missylaneous Monday

You know how you can learn one simple little household tip that will change your life?

I've gotten several lately. Have blog will share.

• When we would take the trash out of the kitchen trash can, the smell could knock you over. Why? There was mostly just paper that went in there and it was emptied at least once a day? Unending mystery. I bleached it regularly, I Lysolled the heck out of it, still stunk. I put some sheets of newspaper - the sports section, to be precise - in the bottom of it and VOILA. No more stinky trashcan.
• I read that newspaper will absorb the odor in shoes too - and FYI, at age 6 your son's feet start to stink. Gonna try that next.
• Donna Otto taught me this one: line your fridge shelves, drawers, cabinets, etc with cheap plastic placemats (hello dollar store) that you cut to fit. So easy to pull out and clean.
  
• In my ongoing mission to reduce chemicals, I read you can use vinegar instead of JetDry in the dishwasher. It works!
  
• I also use vinegar now instead of fabric softener. Because I have a front loader Whirlpool Duet and you can't actually put Downey in the Downey dispenser or else the whole thing gets mildewed and stinks which is the stupidest thing ever especially since that dryer is one of the most expensive things in our home - I will just stop now because I could go on and on and on - just use vinegar.
• WD40 gets crayon off of walls. Hand sanitizer gets Sharpie off of paint. Hallelujah.
• French Onion Soup is one of the easiest things you can ever make and also one of the tastiest. Here ya go:

French Onion Soup

4 onions, sliced thin
1/4 cup butter
3 cans beef stock
2 cups white wine
1 t. Worcestershire
salt & pepper to taste
french bread and Swiss cheese slices

Saute onions in butter till yellow. Add stock and bring to boil. Add remaining ingredients and simmer about 30 min.
To serve, put a chunk of bread in the bottom of the bowl, slice of cheese on top, then ladle the soup on top of that. Presto yummo.

Got any amazing life changing tips? Lay 'em on me.

Oh - one more thing - I just finished The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society last night - (deep sigh.) Treat yourself to this book. So, so dear. Haven't loved a story so much in such a long time. When I finished it I kissed it - literally - and laid it on my nightstand. I kissed it. Literally. Kissed it.

Friday Faves - Favorite Restaurant

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Now I said favorite grownup restaurants so as to distinguish from favorite kid restaurant, because we all know there is a big fat difference in the criteria.

We are some EATERS in this house. So I have to break it down into categories:

Favorite restaurant to go spend a whole lot of money at on a date where you absolutely would not dream of taking a kid much less four of them: Mark's.

It's funny because we have only been here a couple of times, but everytime we mention it to each other, we get that dreamy far-away look. Mark's is in an old church so even though I feel a little sacrilegious about that, it makes for some very cool ambiance. Ahhhhh, Mark's. How I wish we could partake of the bread and wine there more frequently. Walker's second favorite would be Perry's.

Favorite Chinese take-away: Pei Wei, hands down. Blazing Noodles, how I love thee. If only they had soft spring rolls, they would be perfect.

Favorite Mexican: Pappasitos. It's just as good as it gets. Second, much cheaper runner up (and awesome for the kids, not that it matters, because we're not talking about kids): Berryhill. Best take out Mexican: Freebird's (I married an Aggie who looks for an excuse to Freebird it.) Mexican that everyone in Houston thinks is the bomb and for the life of me I can't figure out why because I have not once been impressed: Lupe Tortillas. Sorry, I know you probably love it, I just. don't. get. it.

Ever since we moved here we have been searching for the Cheap Local Dive That Serves Amazing Tex-Mex For Mere Pesos. Six years later, stiiiiiill lookin. (The Diarrhea Eat House does not count.)

Favorite Place to Meet Up With Girlfriends: Cafe Express. Various Cafe Expresses around Houston are filled with Missy Memories. Probably because it is counter service, so you end up sitting there and bonding for hours, not feeling guilty about camping in a waiter's table, which is exactly what I did last week with six of my favorite girls. That and the pickles/sundried tomatoes/chickpeas/breadsticks/olive bar, which completes me. And the fact that you can serve yourself all the refills you want of Diet Coke so I leave there so wired from hours of conversation and caffeine that I can conquer the world.

Best Sandwich: HEB Central Market's Cafe on the Run.

Best steak: Taste of Texas. Yummy cinnamon coffee too.

Favorite Latest Discovery: Pizza Fusion - oh yum. Gourmet organic pizza and $7 a bottle wine? Yes please.

It is sad to me that so many of these are chains. Like I said, I really, really try to find locally owned mom-and-pop places that rock my world. For the most part, when I go to these places, my world stays very static. Disappointing. If you know any in Houston, please share!

What about you?

And we're off

Our initial application to Gladney Center for Adoption, in the mail today.

Momma got a new do

Maybe it's a midlife crisis?

Parenting a feral child

If you have been reading for a while you know that Maggie, age 3, is adorable and sweet and funny and cute. Her speech impediments only make her cuter. Mags is her own little person. She marches to the beat of a different drummer.

And sometimes, I wonder what that drummer is smoking.

Her antics are always messy, frequently annoying, and occasionally deadly. Lately, they are also a bit concerning. Because if future behavior can be predicted by preschool activities - please pray for us.

It all began on July 4, the day of her cousin Hattie's third birthday. I was home sick so Walker took the kids to the party. Maggie disappeared back into Hattie's room to play dress up.

Then, while Walker stood standing with some guys he only kinda knew, he heard a loud "TA DAAAAAAAAAA!!!" He turned around, and there was Maggie.

There was Maggie, stark naked.
There was Maggie, stark naked, save for a pink feather boa.
There was Maggie, stark naked, save for a pink feather boa, shouting "TA DAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

Walker stumbled and bumbled and swooped her away from the random onlookers and made her presentable again. Later when he relayed it to me, we laughed, you know, thinking it was a cute story, ah, that crazy Mags.

Till about two weeks later.

Two weeks later when I sat the kids down to fingerpaint at the kitchen table. Now I have learned that the Magster is not to be left to her own devices whilst fingerpainting. So why did I take my eyes off her for 45 seconds? Because I needed some ice tea, that's why. A mother needs fuel to function. When I turned back around, all exposed Maggie skin was covered in paint. Of course.

I scolded her appropriately and sent her into the guest bath to clean up. Then I proceeded to clean up the paint. That's when I heard the words I never really expected to hear regarding one of my girl-childs: "MOM! Maggie is PEEING in the SINK!!"

Indeed she was. She had crawled up on the counter and was straddling the sink, peeing into it through her panties, like a drunken frat boy.

At which point, a mother can only cry out, "Why? Maggie, Why??"

"Be-cau." Which is her answer to everything. Becau.
Then she laughed. Impishly.
And I prayed to Jesus.

I stripped her down, and told her to put some more panties on. Angrily, she obeyed. She put the panties on.



And left them there for at least an hour.


Couple weeks later. I sent Maggie upstairs one afternoon to nap, and soon afterward the doorbell rang. It was Fed Ex, delivering two large boxes. As the elderly African American man lugged them inside, he said, with a troubled look and a strong New Orleans accent, "Ma'am, your daughter ain't got no clothes on."

Blinking. "Pardon?"

"Your little girl is in the upstairs windah, and she ain't got no clothes on. Sho 'nuff, the whole street can see her."

"Oh. Thank you. Sure is hot out here. Can I get you a glass of ice water?"

He declined.

I shut the door and raced upstairs. Sho 'nuff. Maggie had gone to the potty and stripped naked as is her custom (are you noticing a pattern?), then climbed up on the window sill, from where she commenced to waving joyfully at the poor Fed Ex man.

"Why, are you in the window, Maggie? Why??"

"Becau!"

And she laughed.
Impishly.
And I prayed to Jesus.
As is our custom.

It's Poppy Dip Winner

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

11

Timestamp: 2009-09-23 00:37:42 UTC

Congratulations Jen from She Did What!

For the rest of you, if you purchase a dress from It's Poppy Dip between now and midnight, you will entered in a contest.

Memory lane

Last month my Uncle Roger gave my mom a CD of photos of my brother and me when we were kids. Which is pretty exciting since my mom only believed in taking about 12 photos a year of us.

I have already taken 311 photos this month.
And it's only the 21st.
Guess I just love my kids more.

Stroll with me down Memory Lane...

Baby Missy:

Looks a little bit like another baby girl I once knew:

The addiction goes way back.

Baby Missy with my adored cousin Martha in our front yard.
My mom still lives in this house.

Yes, I fell out.
Look at that car! Sheesh, I feel old.

So many captions, so little time.

Trips to Austin:

Jay and me waiting for the train at Zilker Park in Austin.

Uncle Roger used to take us to climb on this train in Austin - it was always the highlight of our trip. I wish I could take my kids but it's not there anymore.
We loved it.
Although it did smell like pee.

At the top of Mt. Bonnell, where er, some people went in college to make out with their boyfriends. So I, um, heard.

Swimming at Barton Creek,
which in case you have never been is C O L D.
And during the 70s, they had nekked people laying out in a special area behind the bathrooms.
Oh yes they did.
You don't forget things like that.

During my Jane Fonda period.
We keep trying to suppress these photos, but they keep popping up,
so I'll just address it. I was young, I was passionate, I wanted to make a statement.

On my grandparents' farm:

It kills me my kids don't have grandparents with a farm.
Some of my best memories took place in Woods Post Office, near Tenaha, Texas.

More quintessential Tenaha shots:

Shootin' beer cans with BB guns, and shellin' a mess of peas.

Not the most flattering photograph of little Missy.
But I sure would love some of those peas now, with some cornbread, and some tomatoes from the garden...

Christmas at Grandma and Chester's.
Notice I am reaching for a bible, because even at 2,
I was unbelievably holy.

I am not sure what is going on in this photo,
but I do remember that I loved this carpet.
I still think it's kinda cool.
I could make it work.

Okay, y'all, the shoes.
I was only three but I remember I hated those shoes!
Let's just go ahead and call it what it is: child abuse.

The dress: adorable.
The shoes: more abuse!
No wonder I only wear open toed mules now.
I was scarred for life.

I saw John Cleese once at the Vatican,
and he was wearing those same pants.
True story.
He was writing a postcard. It said,
"They call this guy the Pope. He wears a funny hat."

Back in Houston:

My parents had this couch and matching chair on top of their shag carpet, and it was the coolest furniture on earth. We called it the Star Trek couch.
If had this now, I would decorate my whole house around it.
Or, maybe I'd sell it for bajillions on ebay.
One or the other.

The lion fountains at the Houston Zoo.
Cute, but that water was stan-ky.
The other thing I remember most about the Houston Zoo was the fake arm they had in the snake house that was all black and swollen from snake bites -
after I stuck my head and drank the stanky lion mouth water, I would stare for a very long time at the black swollen fake arm.
Good times.

Now I'm just gonna grab my kitty cat, stick six barrettes in my hair and call it a night.

My gosh, my kids are weird

An email I received from a friend this afternoon:

Hey Missy – I forgot to tell you that Eva Rose ate her stickem name tag this morn in sunday school. I was telling Jason and he said that Shep ate his during children's church but that Eve Rose was across the room and didn’t see him do it. Thought you should know...

Revealing God's girly GIVEAWAY

Last week I asked Eva Rose catechism question number 3: Why did God make you and everything?

She answered: To reveal his girly!!

The answer is glory, actually, to reveal his glory. But I had to laugh because indeed, when the Lord created Eva Rose, he certainly revealed his girly side!!

In honor of Eva Rose and all things girly, we're doing a giveaway of some of the cutest, girliest clothes I have ever seen!

Sallee is the creater of It's Poppy Dip. And she is also the mother of gorgeous 3 year old Esther, who came from Ethiopia. I found her when I while obsessively reading Ethiopia adoption blogs, my new pasttime.

Look. how. cute.


Don't you want one??
The dress and a precious Ethiopian girl?
Oh, my word, me too.

It's Poppy Dip is giving away either a short sleeved poppy dip dress like this:

or a pair of pants, like this:


The giveaway will be in your choice of size (12m - 7) and fabric. ~ This does not pertain to Christmas fabrics that say available 9-22 ~

Here's what you have to do:

Go check out the clothes at Poppy Dip.

Look at the fabrics here.

Come back and leave a comment listing your favorite fabric, which is going to be hard, because they are all so cute.

If you don't have a blog, then be sure and leave your email. I will announce the winner on Tuesday.

That's all! Have fun!

Friday Faves

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Your favorite shoes you own, and the shoes you WISHED you owned!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

to Walker

the best

baby daddy

and husband

ever

I love you!

She needed it like she needed a hole in the head

Since before Walker and I even had children, we had a bit of a disagreement about one thing.

I thought baby girls with pierced ears are about the cutest things in the whole wide world.

He didn't.

Now, chances are, you don't either. Here in the Lone Star State, it has a bit of a stigma. If you are from an ethnicity that makes incredibly good food, you can puncture your baby before the cord falls off and no one with think a thing of it. If you are a white girl, of which I am, well.

Piercing your baby's ears is akin to taking your children barefoot to WalMart while you wear white shoes after Labor Day.

My mother has only threatened to cut me out of the will twice - for naming my daughter Daisy (which I still think is cute), and for piercing my baby girl's ears.

What can I say - there is a woman inside of me called Daisy who loves pork rinds, has a tattoo, and thinks newborns with earrings are darling. (But even Daisy won't wear white shoes after Labor Day.)

After Eva Rose was born, I gave Walker one more chance before we left the hospital, at which point he threatened to take the children and move in with my mother and claim the full inheritance.

Until...

Until one day we were at a birthday party and a little blond haired, blue eyed 18 month old toddled around, and Walker looked at me and said, "Her earrings are SO CUTE!" and then proceeded to talk about it the rest of the day.

HelLO! I have been TELLING you it's cute!!

At that point, it was too late. Both our girls were past the magic window of opportunity and well into the ripping-cartilage stage.

Walker, however, was obsessed. As soon as he felt Eva Rose was old enough, which was last year, he took her down to Claire's and got them pierced.

Problem was, she wasn't completely on board. I wasn't completely on board either, simply because I didn't think it was fair that she got her's pierced without even asking when I had to beg consistently for the better parts of 1976, 1977, and 1978 before my mother acquiesced.

Daddy was put in charge of the cleaning and twisting. Hence, one got very infected. I made the mistake of taking it out. When I tried to re-insert it, she became possessed by the Spirit of Resistance which presents itself with kicking, screaming, and primal gutteral noises. Now I'm no certified exorcist, but I know when to back off. The other one was removed also.

It's become The Unfortunate Ear Piercing Incident About Which We Do Not Speak.

For her birthday, after getting very dolled up with her BFF Kinley at Little Diva's,



Eva Rose got to choose some gifts at Claire's, aka, Little Girl Nirvana. She really wanted some clip-on earrings. Knowing they would be lost before we left the parking lot, I tried to steer her towards other treasures, which all resembled every accessory I ever owned in the 80s. She would not be dissuaded.

Every pair of earrings she liked was pierced.

And then she said it: "I think I want to get my ears pierced."

"Are you SURE? You're SURE? Are you really really SURE?" I asked, at least 17 more times.

I presented my ID and signed the 14 official documents required for my daughter to get her ears pierced. She hopped up in the chair.

She was sure.


Kinda.

Not so sure about round two.


Not so sure when it was over.



But when she looked at the earrings that she will get to wear in six weeks,



Very, very sure.