TEN years we've been married.
NINE cars.
EIGHT jobs.
SEVEN states we've visited with the kids.
SIX homes we've lived in since we've known each other.
FIVE computers.
FOUR trips to the emergency room.
THREE Presidents in office.
TWO wonderful children.
ONE wonderful life.
Happy anniversary, Gerard!
I've always been proud of the fact that both my kids do very well at bedtime. Besides the occasional argument about getting pajamas on or brushing teeth or why we should read THAT BOOK for the EIGHT HUNDREDTH TIME in 3 days, both Gerard and Morgan look forward to bedtime. It's our time to read together, cuddle, and talk about the day. And usually they both fall asleep immediately after we leave their rooms.
There are nights, however, when things don't go quite as planned. Last night was one of those times. I think Gerard was just overly excited that Aunt Debbie was here and he was probably a little full from dinner (we went to Red Lobster) but he just couldn't fall asleep. He came downstairs several times with a variety of excuses. He was hot. He was cold. He couldn't get comfortable. He was hungry (yeah? I don't think so). His stuffed duck broke (how does a stuffed animal break?) It bothered him to close his eyes. That was a new one.
After his parade up and down had finally stopped and it was quiet upstairs, I went to check on him. Much to my utter horror, this is what I found:
I nearly had a heart attack when he wasn't in his bed! I looked around and found him sleeping peacefully in my bed.
He certainly made himself comfortable. He brought in his own pillow and blankie but strangely enough he still used one of ours to sleep on.
Our motto has always been KIDS SLEEP IN THEIR OWN BEDS. Once you start letting them sleep in your bed they have trouble sleeping in their own. So while it might not seem so weird to some that he was in my bed, it was a total shock to me.
Luckily Morgan went right to sleep, as usual, and slept like an angel (until 6:30am, that is). Can you find her in there with all her stuffed animals?
Updated popsicle recipe:
Cut up any kind of fruit. Throw it in the blender ignoring the kids’ screaming that SHE GOT STRAWBERRIES LAST TIME! I WANT BANANAS! NO I WANT MANGOES!
Add two heaping tablespoons of plain, low-fat yogurt. Scoop yogurt and throw into blender while screaming IF YOU TWO DON’T CUT IT OUT YOU’LL BE HAVING CHICKEN POPSICLES!
Add milk. Do not let your 5 1/2-year-old attempt to pour from a new, heavy gallon container of milk. Not enough milk will land in the blender.
Blend while you’re mopping up the spilled milk.
Taste. Add honey if necessary. Wonder if your kids will get sweeter if you pour honey directly into their mouths.
Blend again so the kids won’t hear you cursing under your breath.
Pour mixture into strainer. Press mixture through strainer with the back of a spoon. Press hard, to take out any aggression you may have.
Pour mixture into 3 of the 4 popsicle molds. Add rum to the remaining mixture and drink.
Place popsicles into freezer. Remind kids AGAIN that NO, THE POPSICLES AREN’T READY 2 MINUTES AFTER THEY GO IN THE FREEZER. NO THEY ARE NOT READY 3 MINUTES LATER EITHER.
Take a nap.
AS AN ASIDE, AND ON A GOOD NOTE: I ran another mile today! Yay me!
Last day of tennis today. Gerard was totally in his element -- they played a game that Coach C. called "tennis hockey" and Gerard loved being the goalie. Of course Morgan loved throwing the tennis balls all over the place.
After tennis we went to the park for our regular Wednesday playdate. Morgan is absolutely fearless, which terrifies me. Luckily, she's also very coordinated so she really can handle the various steps/stairs/ladders/slides/etc. I'm actually much more comfortable with her on the playsets than I was with Gerard at this age. She is also very happy in the sandbox which makes me very happy since her feet are planted firmly on the ground.
Of course, Gerard is happiest with Maddie. Aren't they cute?
As I mentioned in my last post, Morgan took an unexpected dip in the pool yesterday. Since many of you have asked about it, I thought I'd share the whole story. Let me start from the beginning...
Gerard's friend Logan's grandparents have a pool at their house. On Mondays during the summer we swim there along with our other friends that we met in preschool. Gerard really looks forward to Mondays. Ah, who am I kidding -- we ALL look forward to Mondays! Last year, Gerard had to wear his life vest to swim, but by the end of the summer he was down to arm floaties. He's now showing some interest in swimming without any floaties so I'm going to sign him up for another swim class.
Morgan, on the other hand, can't swim at all. She's only 2, for goodness sake! I try to put Gerard's old life vest on her, but she usually takes it off. When she's in the pool she obviously leaves it on, or happily lounges in her little inner tube.
Well yesterday was a little chilly so the kids went in but the adults did not. Morgan didn't want to go in either and I can't say that I blamed her. She played around the sides of the pool and then started playing with some of the little floaty toys that were IN the water. She did not have her life vest on. I told her several times not to lean over the edge of the pool, but she just wouldn't listen. The adults were all chatting and I looked over to see her reach for a ring and fall into the pool. Needless to say I ran over, jumped in and pulled her out. She was almost at the bottom of the shallow end. She was a little freaked out by the whole incident, but after getting warmed up and dried off she was back to playing. She told Daddy "I fell down. In the pool. It scared me."
But she was just fine. I'll be signing her up for swim lessons, too...
For those of you who don't know me well, let me tell you how much I enjoy running.
I hate it.
I can spend forever on the elliptical machine, I can walk for miles, but I DO NOT RUN. Not unless I'm being chased by a large dog. Or a man with a knife. Or Morgan is hanging precariously from the monkey bars. Or Morgan falls into the pool without a life vest (yes, she fell in the pool yesterday).
Several of my good friends are runners. I feel pangs of guilt every time I see Jayna run by my house. Robyn runs marathons. The rest of you know who you are. Me, not so much. Let me share a story with you to help put it all in perspective....
Back in college at SUNY-B (remember when it was called that?) people used to run around the "brain". The road that traveled through campus was called the brain because of its, um, brain shape. My dear fit friends Robyn, Ilene and Aldine were among the brain runners. I, however, was not. One day I decided to give it a go and when I returned, defeated, I told Robyn that I only made it to the mailbox. She seemed quite impressed, figuring of course that I ran THE LONG WAY to the mailbox, not just the short stroll (which probably amounted to less than .1 mile). I'm not sure I ever corrected her assumtion. (Now you know, Rob!)
I do have a point here other than to completely embarrass myself.... I ran a mile today! Woo hoo! Yay me. I didn't set any records or anything, but I did it. I know many of you are thinking, "so what!?" but I am proud. Please forgive me for gushing. :)
