A friend pointed out yesterday that our trip to California should be good for at least five blog posts, and I will have to agree with her on that one. However, the folks who were kind enough to pay for our trip made us sign a nondisclosure agreement, so there are several posts that will have to wait until after the show airs on December second. I do have to share this, though. When a producer looked at me and said, "We're going to need all of you to sign a nondisclosure agreement," part of me wanted to look at him and say, "Dude, are you for real? You realize that you're dealing with two six year olds and a two year old, right? Oh, and let's not forget that my kids couldn't keep a secret if their lives depended on it!" But I just smiled and signed on the dotted line.
My two oldest children are about to bust. The baby did her very best to tell someone on the plane about it, but fortunately she doesn't really know what to say and I still have to interpret for her sometimes. I'm pretty sure the kids have invited around 300 people or so over to our house on December second to watch the show. It's going to be an interesting month around here.
And now for the topic of the day: the Presidential Election. My kids have taken more than a passing interest in this whole process, down to asking me every five minutes last night who won. This morning, one of my girls wandered into the kitchen half asleep and said, pushing her hair out of her face, "Who's the new principal?" "What?" Impatiently she repeated,"Who's the new principal? I mean, the new President?" "President Obama. He got re-elected." Her sister chimed in, "Aww, man! But this is the last time he can be it, right? He can't enter the contest next time?" "Yep. He can't enter the contest next time." "Good." Her dad then proceeded to give them the "we respect the office, no matter who the man is" speech. Good for him.
I have to admit that I'm concerned about what the next four years holds for us. But that said, here's what I think. If we truly believe that God is who he says he is, and that he can do what he says he can do (which I do) then don't you think he could alter the outcome of a Presidential election if he wanted to? I believe that God calls on us for obedience, and when we disobey that he treats us as any parent would. Sometimes he lets us travel down the road of destruction to teach us a lesson. I have done the same thing many times over with my own children. You can only say, "Please don't do that. You're going to hurt yourself" so many times before you let them fall down and skin their knees. (And then fight the urge to say, "I told you so!") It doesn't mean that I don't love them, or that I don't still want what's best for them. It doesn't mean I've turned my back on them, or that I will no longer protect them from harm. It simply means that I needed to let them learn that particular lesson for themselves, because they weren't listening to me and heeding my advice. I believe God the Father feels the same way about us. Just because he allows us to make mistakes doesn't mean he doesn't love us and want what's best for us. I believe that no matter who is in the White House, we will all answer to a higher power someday. So our family will continue to respect the office of the President and say our prayers for the nation at night. It's time to figure out what you believe. Do you have faith in God and in his goodness? Or do you just like to say you do?
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
The Plane Ride
In the midst of Election Day craziness, I am happy and still a little amazed to report that my husband and I survived not one but two cross country plane rides with three kids under 7. For those of you who missed my last post, we got word about two weeks ago that the video I had submitted (and almost forgotten about, it was so long ago) had been selected as a weekly finalist on the show America's Funniest Home Videos. With not much warning, we were shocked and slightly terrified that the show wanted to fly our entire family to Los Angeles for a taping of the show. To be truthful, my kids have been asking to go to Disney World forever, and the main thing keeping us from going was the thought of a long plane ride with three little kids. So, as tends to happen so often in my life, we were coaxed into it whether we were ready or not.
Packing for five people was an enormous undertaking, especially when it came time to figure in things like diapers, wipes, food, and comfort items that the baby was used to. We all figured the plane ride, time and schedule changes would be hardest on her, but to tell the truth I think she managed better than the rest of us!
We flew out of Memphis, TN, which meant a two hour car trip to the airport before we ever got on a plane. We fed the kids breakfast on the way, including Sheridan's customary Minnie Mouse cup of milk. I mention the milk because that freaking cup came back to haunt us in more ways than one. Approximately halfway to California my husband realized that we left it in my car to cook over the weekend. I have to admit that I dreaded coming home and opening that car door all weekend. The smell of rotting milk is not one that I tolerate very well.
Once we arrived at the airport, the lines were incredibly short, which I considered a personal blessing from God. After walking half a mile to our gate, the kids decided they were hungry. So, we loaded up again and hiked half a mile back to a restaurant, at which time the baby decided that I was not to be out of her sight for any reason. A last minute potty break turned into the fastest pee on record because I could hear my child screaming clear across the hall from inside the bathroom. When I got back to the table, my husband informed me that I was not to be out of her sight ever again, for any reason. Ain't motherhood fun?
Our angelic child continued her wicked ways at the gate. I'm not sure exactly how many people were on our flight, but I'm pretty sure every last one of them was staring at my toddler when she sprawled out on the floor to have a screaming mimi right before we boarded the plane. Anyone who wasn't staring at her was staring at me, silently wondering how I was going to handle the situation. If I could have read their minds, I'm pretty sure I would have heard something like, "Dear God, please don't let me be the poor soul who was to sit next to that kid on the plane." Some of them were looking around desperately and making contingency plans, surveying the crowd for someone who would be stupid enough to swap seats with them should they draw the short straw and have to sit next to us. Bill Cosby's comedy routine about the kid named Jeffrey that everybody on the plane wanted to kill kept running through my mind.
I have to admit, it was kind of funny though, because everyone who was a parent was looking at me like, "I feel SO sorry for you. I have so been there" and everyone who was not a parent was looking at me like, "Can't you make her stop that?" And the answer is, "NO. I can ignore her, I can threaten her, I can spank her, I can offer to buy her a pony. I have tried reasoning with a two year old, and there's no future in it. Either way, she's going to scream until she's good and ready to stop. Hopefully it will be five minutes and not forty-five."
I really wasn't too worried about my big girls on the plane. They've never flown before, but I downloaded a bunch of new apps on my iPad and figured I could plug them in, which worked like a charm for a little while. I do have to say that one of the best moments of the plane ride came when they started playing their version of Pictionary. One would draw a picture and the other one would guess what it was. From across the aisle, I saw a picture that looked like a ball with ponytails. After a wrong guess or two, the guesser finally gave up and said, "I don't know. What is it?" To which her sister replied, "This is you. FAT." My Coke came dangerously close to coming out my nose. "Oh, yeah?" Her sister scribbled furiously. "Well THIS is you in Time Out!" I suppose I should be thankful that they can entertain themselves.
The baby, however, is at that lovely age so often referred to as the "terrible twos." Remember I said that a stupid Minnie Mouse cup came back to haunt us more than once? Ever tried to convince a two year old that even though the Minnie Mouse cup usually has milk in it, today it has water? And that's okay? On an airplane surrounded by strangers who don't understand that to a two year old this is a HUGE deal? Not one of my finer parenting moments for sure.
Approximately halfway to California, my little one got sleepy. After what seemed like an eternity of whining, crying, and being passed back and forth from parent to parent in a desperate attempt to console her, she finally fell asleep. People oohed and ahhed over her precious sleeping face on the way to and from the bathroom, but I'm pretty sure the look on my face said something like, "If you wake this child up, I will kill you with my bare hands."
The rest of the plane ride was uneventful, and I have to say that I was reminded how little my children have traveled when one of my six year olds began telling our driver that California was the most beautiful place she had ever seen! We had been to LAX and the parking garage. Guess we need to get out more!
Packing for five people was an enormous undertaking, especially when it came time to figure in things like diapers, wipes, food, and comfort items that the baby was used to. We all figured the plane ride, time and schedule changes would be hardest on her, but to tell the truth I think she managed better than the rest of us!
We flew out of Memphis, TN, which meant a two hour car trip to the airport before we ever got on a plane. We fed the kids breakfast on the way, including Sheridan's customary Minnie Mouse cup of milk. I mention the milk because that freaking cup came back to haunt us in more ways than one. Approximately halfway to California my husband realized that we left it in my car to cook over the weekend. I have to admit that I dreaded coming home and opening that car door all weekend. The smell of rotting milk is not one that I tolerate very well.
Once we arrived at the airport, the lines were incredibly short, which I considered a personal blessing from God. After walking half a mile to our gate, the kids decided they were hungry. So, we loaded up again and hiked half a mile back to a restaurant, at which time the baby decided that I was not to be out of her sight for any reason. A last minute potty break turned into the fastest pee on record because I could hear my child screaming clear across the hall from inside the bathroom. When I got back to the table, my husband informed me that I was not to be out of her sight ever again, for any reason. Ain't motherhood fun?
Our angelic child continued her wicked ways at the gate. I'm not sure exactly how many people were on our flight, but I'm pretty sure every last one of them was staring at my toddler when she sprawled out on the floor to have a screaming mimi right before we boarded the plane. Anyone who wasn't staring at her was staring at me, silently wondering how I was going to handle the situation. If I could have read their minds, I'm pretty sure I would have heard something like, "Dear God, please don't let me be the poor soul who was to sit next to that kid on the plane." Some of them were looking around desperately and making contingency plans, surveying the crowd for someone who would be stupid enough to swap seats with them should they draw the short straw and have to sit next to us. Bill Cosby's comedy routine about the kid named Jeffrey that everybody on the plane wanted to kill kept running through my mind.
I have to admit, it was kind of funny though, because everyone who was a parent was looking at me like, "I feel SO sorry for you. I have so been there" and everyone who was not a parent was looking at me like, "Can't you make her stop that?" And the answer is, "NO. I can ignore her, I can threaten her, I can spank her, I can offer to buy her a pony. I have tried reasoning with a two year old, and there's no future in it. Either way, she's going to scream until she's good and ready to stop. Hopefully it will be five minutes and not forty-five."
I really wasn't too worried about my big girls on the plane. They've never flown before, but I downloaded a bunch of new apps on my iPad and figured I could plug them in, which worked like a charm for a little while. I do have to say that one of the best moments of the plane ride came when they started playing their version of Pictionary. One would draw a picture and the other one would guess what it was. From across the aisle, I saw a picture that looked like a ball with ponytails. After a wrong guess or two, the guesser finally gave up and said, "I don't know. What is it?" To which her sister replied, "This is you. FAT." My Coke came dangerously close to coming out my nose. "Oh, yeah?" Her sister scribbled furiously. "Well THIS is you in Time Out!" I suppose I should be thankful that they can entertain themselves.
The baby, however, is at that lovely age so often referred to as the "terrible twos." Remember I said that a stupid Minnie Mouse cup came back to haunt us more than once? Ever tried to convince a two year old that even though the Minnie Mouse cup usually has milk in it, today it has water? And that's okay? On an airplane surrounded by strangers who don't understand that to a two year old this is a HUGE deal? Not one of my finer parenting moments for sure.
Approximately halfway to California, my little one got sleepy. After what seemed like an eternity of whining, crying, and being passed back and forth from parent to parent in a desperate attempt to console her, she finally fell asleep. People oohed and ahhed over her precious sleeping face on the way to and from the bathroom, but I'm pretty sure the look on my face said something like, "If you wake this child up, I will kill you with my bare hands."
The rest of the plane ride was uneventful, and I have to say that I was reminded how little my children have traveled when one of my six year olds began telling our driver that California was the most beautiful place she had ever seen! We had been to LAX and the parking garage. Guess we need to get out more!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Catching Up!
So for those of you who thought I had simply disappeared into oblivion, even those of you who were slightly happy about that thought: I haven't. I have simply been busier than a one legged man in a butt kicking contest. So much has happened to our family in the past week...and I got sick right in the middle of it all. I have been at war with the most ferocious sinus infection in human history. I have taken my antibiotics faithfully, and I really do try to convince myself every morning that I am getting better. My left ear has so much fluid behind my eardrum that I am completely deaf on that side. I feel like a 90 year old woman with a non-working hearing aid, as my immediate response to anything that anyone says to me is, "Huh?" I have learned that Zyrtec is NOT my friend, particularly if I wish to function in any sort of way that resembles a human being. Between my "Zyrtec Zombie" day and my post Nyquil hangover day, I have been pretty darn worthless this week. Oh, and I HAVE to be well soon...because I'm flying cross country with three little kids.
Last week my family got some very exciting news, the most exciting news we have had in quite some time. This is one for the things-I-never-thought-would-happen-to-me-file: several months ago, I submitted a video of my girls and their dad to the TV show America's Funniest Home Videos. It had been several months, and to be honest I had kind of forgotten about it. Then one day about three months ago, a lady from the show called to say that they were thinking of using the video, and if they did, we would get a tee shirt. "Oh, how cool," I thought. "My kids will get to see themselves on TV. Neat!"
Then about a week ago, a producer from the show called back, to say again that they were thinking of using the video, and to get everyone's name, etc. Still pretty cool. Later the same day, another person from the show called to say that our video was one of the three finalists for one of their weekly shows! They are going to fly our family to California, have us be on the show, and we have a chance to win $10,000!
As someone who can remember watching that show as a kid, it completely blows my mind that we are actually going to be on it! My kids are beside themselves, as you can imagine, and I am trying to figure out what manner of chemical relaxation it is going to take for me to survive a flight from Memphis to Los Angeles with three small children. (Just kidding.) I feel certain it will be an adventure that we will never forget! I will post the show's air date when we know for sure, but tentatively it will be December 2nd. Any of you folks who have had the pleasure of sitting next to my family in church know what the possibilities are here. You never know exactly what this bunch is going to do. Pray for me.
Last week my family got some very exciting news, the most exciting news we have had in quite some time. This is one for the things-I-never-thought-would-happen-to-me-file: several months ago, I submitted a video of my girls and their dad to the TV show America's Funniest Home Videos. It had been several months, and to be honest I had kind of forgotten about it. Then one day about three months ago, a lady from the show called to say that they were thinking of using the video, and if they did, we would get a tee shirt. "Oh, how cool," I thought. "My kids will get to see themselves on TV. Neat!"
Then about a week ago, a producer from the show called back, to say again that they were thinking of using the video, and to get everyone's name, etc. Still pretty cool. Later the same day, another person from the show called to say that our video was one of the three finalists for one of their weekly shows! They are going to fly our family to California, have us be on the show, and we have a chance to win $10,000!
As someone who can remember watching that show as a kid, it completely blows my mind that we are actually going to be on it! My kids are beside themselves, as you can imagine, and I am trying to figure out what manner of chemical relaxation it is going to take for me to survive a flight from Memphis to Los Angeles with three small children. (Just kidding.) I feel certain it will be an adventure that we will never forget! I will post the show's air date when we know for sure, but tentatively it will be December 2nd. Any of you folks who have had the pleasure of sitting next to my family in church know what the possibilities are here. You never know exactly what this bunch is going to do. Pray for me.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Daddy, are you really going to kill our boyfriends?
"Daddy, are you really going to kill our boyfriends?" "Yep. Probably so." "Well, if you do, I'm going to tell the Principal!" And so it begins. Kelly Ripa reported yesterday that studies have shown that children are reaching puberty in this country earlier than they ever have before. My husband and I are already having conversations with our girls that I thought were years away. Everything from, "why can't I have a cell phone" to "why can't I have a boyfriend?"
My first grader informed me last night that a boy in her kindergarten class last year told all the girls on the playground that they were "hot." I quickly informed her that "hot" was not an appropriate term for a kindergarten age boy or girl to be using. "Well, why not?" Why not, indeed? Between the commercials for underwear and sexual enhancement products my home is bombarded with on a daily basis, I can already see that we are going to be having some adult conversations way too soon for me.
Which brings me to my point: why is everyone in such a hurry for kids to grow up? It's really no wonder that there's a show called "16 and Pregnant" on MTV these days. Have you walked through the juniors department lately? My friends with "tweens" have tried to warn me that fashion above the size 6 girls takes an abrupt turn toward hoochie mama. I can now say that I've seen it for myself. Is it so terrible that I want my little girls to be little girls for awhile longer? I don't want them to look grown up, or hot, or mature. I just want them to look like kids. You know, short people whose job it is to play with their toys and enjoy life? Makeup and nail polish can wait. My girls are 6, not 16. And, by the way, any boy who wants to take one of my girls out is going to have to survive a fully attended family dinner at our home. I got my tenth anniversary present yesterday, an awesome western table with enough chairs for our family and then some! Good luck, teenage boys. You're going to need it.
My first grader informed me last night that a boy in her kindergarten class last year told all the girls on the playground that they were "hot." I quickly informed her that "hot" was not an appropriate term for a kindergarten age boy or girl to be using. "Well, why not?" Why not, indeed? Between the commercials for underwear and sexual enhancement products my home is bombarded with on a daily basis, I can already see that we are going to be having some adult conversations way too soon for me.
Which brings me to my point: why is everyone in such a hurry for kids to grow up? It's really no wonder that there's a show called "16 and Pregnant" on MTV these days. Have you walked through the juniors department lately? My friends with "tweens" have tried to warn me that fashion above the size 6 girls takes an abrupt turn toward hoochie mama. I can now say that I've seen it for myself. Is it so terrible that I want my little girls to be little girls for awhile longer? I don't want them to look grown up, or hot, or mature. I just want them to look like kids. You know, short people whose job it is to play with their toys and enjoy life? Makeup and nail polish can wait. My girls are 6, not 16. And, by the way, any boy who wants to take one of my girls out is going to have to survive a fully attended family dinner at our home. I got my tenth anniversary present yesterday, an awesome western table with enough chairs for our family and then some! Good luck, teenage boys. You're going to need it.
Monday, October 22, 2012
I'm back and it's finished!
I am extremely excited to report that my book is now complete and off to the publisher as of this morning. I do apologize for neglecting my blog so terribly. We have no less than four sideline businesses around here these days, so in addition to keeping the house from imploding I have been working feverishly on putting my book project to bed. I am so glad to be done with it! I can actually say that two of my projects that started with an idea have been brought to fruition this month. I've never been able to say that before! My book is on its way to becoming a reality (hello, bucket list!) I can mark that one off! How many times can you say that you saw a dream you had as a kid realized? Things that are on that short list include graduating from vet school and my sweet family!
Our equine spa is here and open. We are still clearing some trees and getting our pad built for permanent parking, but we are open for business! It has taken a lot of work, sleepless nights, and willingness to listen to (and ignore) people telling us why something couldn't be done. We are going to work our first show this weekend, and although I fully expect a few hiccups here and there, I am looking forward to getting this business off the ground.
We are the recipients of so many blessings. God has been good to our family, and I am truly thankful!
Our equine spa is here and open. We are still clearing some trees and getting our pad built for permanent parking, but we are open for business! It has taken a lot of work, sleepless nights, and willingness to listen to (and ignore) people telling us why something couldn't be done. We are going to work our first show this weekend, and although I fully expect a few hiccups here and there, I am looking forward to getting this business off the ground.
We are the recipients of so many blessings. God has been good to our family, and I am truly thankful!
Monday, October 15, 2012
Sundays with the Shumperts
Sunday is the Lord's Day. A day of rest, right? Um, not after you become a parent. Sunday morning takes on an entirely new meaning after you give birth, and more kids just make it more complicated. I constantly marvel at how much my life has changed since I became a parent, but never more so than on Sunday morning. Sunday mornings at our house are so profound that they merited an entire chapter in my book on motherhood.
Before my twins were born, we attended a church less than two minutes from our home that started at 9:00 AM. My husband and I loved the idea of going to church early and as he put it, "getting it over with" so that we could have the rest of the day to do things like nap. Sunday afternoon naps are also something you give up when you become a parent. Never thought about that when I considered getting pregnant.
When the girls were two, we moved out of our vet clinic apartment and into a house about 25 minutes away. Now instead of being ready at 8:58, we had to be in the car leaving home at 8:30 in order to avoid being late for church. I loved our church, and didn't want to change, but after we added the third child, the lure of a church two minutes from home that started at 11:00 was just too much to resist. And it's full of people my kids love, including little old ladies who seem to really enjoy the fact that my kids are huggers.
But Sunday mornings continue to astound me. It just doesn't make sense that we can get everyone but myself and the baby out the door by 7:15 Monday through Friday and are nearly late for church week. There is a really strange phenomenon that goes on in our home. The children's clothes and shoes turn on me. Suddenly shoes that have been worn 87 times before are too big. Or too little. Or "hurt my feet." Or slip up and down when they walk. Lacy socks that I have at least six pairs of suddenly go missing. Or should I say one of them goes missing. All of a sudden I have a pile of mismatched lacy socks. Dresses that have been worn before with no problem at all are suddenly too tight. Or too long. Or too itchy. Or "choke me when I sit down!" Hair bows that have been worn a hundred times to school "hurt my head!" Hairstyles that are perfectly acceptable every other day of the week are hideous on Sundays. I just don't understand it! How can these seemingly innocent (and expensive) household items turn evil one day a week?
I have to admit that I have learned a lot about myself on Sunday mornings. I have learned that it is perfectly acceptable to break the law by speeding so long as you are on the way to church. I have learned that I have the ability to nurse a baby while fixing another child's hair. I have figured out that the reason my mother was always putting on lipstick and polishing her nails in the car on the way to church is because after you spend all of your time getting everyone else ready, you are left with approximately five minutes to dress yourself before walking out the door. Ever wonder why the kids and husband all look so neat and clean and the mother looks like "who'd have thought it?" Become a parent. That stuff will make perfect sense!
How many times have you looked down your nose at the people with all the little kids who slid into the back row with their hair on fire and then sat there looking like a deer in headlights while trying to keep their little monsters quiet during the entire service? It's a wonder we didn't spontaneously combust after some of the looks we got when our kids were making noise. And really, who can focus on the sermon while fighting the effects of continuous sleep deprivation and the huge sigh of relief when you actually make it to the church on time? Not this mama.
So how is it that the "day of rest" has become the hardest, and often most stressful day of my week? Simple. KIDS. There you go. Something to add to the things you didn't know before you became a parent. You're welcome.
Before my twins were born, we attended a church less than two minutes from our home that started at 9:00 AM. My husband and I loved the idea of going to church early and as he put it, "getting it over with" so that we could have the rest of the day to do things like nap. Sunday afternoon naps are also something you give up when you become a parent. Never thought about that when I considered getting pregnant.
When the girls were two, we moved out of our vet clinic apartment and into a house about 25 minutes away. Now instead of being ready at 8:58, we had to be in the car leaving home at 8:30 in order to avoid being late for church. I loved our church, and didn't want to change, but after we added the third child, the lure of a church two minutes from home that started at 11:00 was just too much to resist. And it's full of people my kids love, including little old ladies who seem to really enjoy the fact that my kids are huggers.
But Sunday mornings continue to astound me. It just doesn't make sense that we can get everyone but myself and the baby out the door by 7:15 Monday through Friday and are nearly late for church week. There is a really strange phenomenon that goes on in our home. The children's clothes and shoes turn on me. Suddenly shoes that have been worn 87 times before are too big. Or too little. Or "hurt my feet." Or slip up and down when they walk. Lacy socks that I have at least six pairs of suddenly go missing. Or should I say one of them goes missing. All of a sudden I have a pile of mismatched lacy socks. Dresses that have been worn before with no problem at all are suddenly too tight. Or too long. Or too itchy. Or "choke me when I sit down!" Hair bows that have been worn a hundred times to school "hurt my head!" Hairstyles that are perfectly acceptable every other day of the week are hideous on Sundays. I just don't understand it! How can these seemingly innocent (and expensive) household items turn evil one day a week?
I have to admit that I have learned a lot about myself on Sunday mornings. I have learned that it is perfectly acceptable to break the law by speeding so long as you are on the way to church. I have learned that I have the ability to nurse a baby while fixing another child's hair. I have figured out that the reason my mother was always putting on lipstick and polishing her nails in the car on the way to church is because after you spend all of your time getting everyone else ready, you are left with approximately five minutes to dress yourself before walking out the door. Ever wonder why the kids and husband all look so neat and clean and the mother looks like "who'd have thought it?" Become a parent. That stuff will make perfect sense!
How many times have you looked down your nose at the people with all the little kids who slid into the back row with their hair on fire and then sat there looking like a deer in headlights while trying to keep their little monsters quiet during the entire service? It's a wonder we didn't spontaneously combust after some of the looks we got when our kids were making noise. And really, who can focus on the sermon while fighting the effects of continuous sleep deprivation and the huge sigh of relief when you actually make it to the church on time? Not this mama.
So how is it that the "day of rest" has become the hardest, and often most stressful day of my week? Simple. KIDS. There you go. Something to add to the things you didn't know before you became a parent. You're welcome.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
World Class Somethings
"Are they competitive?" asked the lady who was about to teach my six year old twins to tumble. I just looked at her. "Seriously? They fight over who is going to brush their teeth first. So I guess the short answer would be yes." These two people have been duking it out for space (and my attention) in this world since they were in the womb. They had their feet in each other's face in my belly. I'm fairly certain that had each of them known the other was there, there would have been the first recorded prenatal fist fight. From the outside it would appear that the competition begins when they open their eyes in the morning and ends when they fall asleep, which is also a contest. One of them is jealous of the other one because she can always fall asleep faster than her sister. I used to wonder when this "ish" was going to end. Now I have decided that it's going to end when they are dead, and I'm sure whichever one dies first will have some sort of advantage.
This morning my husband called me to fill me in on the conversation that took place as they were heading to the truck. Actually, what he said was, "I don't know how we're going to do it, but if we can ever manage to harness this whole competition thing, we are gonna have two world class somethings on our hands!" I hope you are right dad, and if we are lucky they will pick something we are at least halfway interested in. Watch them be world champions in underwater basket weaving. Or curling. Fingers crossed.
Apparently the morning began with a foot race to the truck, which didn't start until one child was already half way there. With a thirty foot head start, she beat her sister, who was completely unaware that there was even a race going on, easily. This prompted her sister to inform her that she was a "dirty cheater." Attempting to diffuse the situation, my husband asked who was ready for the barrel race this weekend. "ME! ME!" This led to the next event. "Well, I yelled ME first! Ha! So I win." The other sister sat there for a moment, then replied, "Well, I still get to go. So who cares?' You do, my little princess, which is why your sister does the things she does. She knows how to play you like a fiddle, and until you figure out how to do the same, you are in for a lot of grief.
I have said before that, being an only child, I don't understand this whole death match competition thing. I just have to tolerate it because they live in my home. I have however, quickly learned the unwritten laws of sisterhood. The main one goes something like this, "I can say/do whatever I want about or to my sister. But if someone else does or says the same, I will kill them and get rid of the body, no questions asked." I consider myself extremely lucky that they will still tell on one another, which I know is soon coming to an end. Once they gang up on us, we've had it. But for the moment, they still take tremendous joy in seeing their sister get in trouble for any reason. One of them lands on my sh#t list and it's like an alarm bell sounds for the other one. The kissing of mom's butt will now begin! "I love you, Mommy, You're so sweet." Can't you just picture the angelic little face looking up at me?
Luckily, my BS meter still works quite well. I can detect this crap at twenty paces. Ooooh, she's in trouble. Here's a chance for me to get in good with mom! Nice try, my little cherub. I'm smart enough to know that you probably started this crap, she finished it and got caught. Rest assured, your turn is coming. But for now, I'm going to enjoy listening to one of you sing my praises. Hey, sometimes you have to take what you can get.
This morning my husband called me to fill me in on the conversation that took place as they were heading to the truck. Actually, what he said was, "I don't know how we're going to do it, but if we can ever manage to harness this whole competition thing, we are gonna have two world class somethings on our hands!" I hope you are right dad, and if we are lucky they will pick something we are at least halfway interested in. Watch them be world champions in underwater basket weaving. Or curling. Fingers crossed.
Apparently the morning began with a foot race to the truck, which didn't start until one child was already half way there. With a thirty foot head start, she beat her sister, who was completely unaware that there was even a race going on, easily. This prompted her sister to inform her that she was a "dirty cheater." Attempting to diffuse the situation, my husband asked who was ready for the barrel race this weekend. "ME! ME!" This led to the next event. "Well, I yelled ME first! Ha! So I win." The other sister sat there for a moment, then replied, "Well, I still get to go. So who cares?' You do, my little princess, which is why your sister does the things she does. She knows how to play you like a fiddle, and until you figure out how to do the same, you are in for a lot of grief.
I have said before that, being an only child, I don't understand this whole death match competition thing. I just have to tolerate it because they live in my home. I have however, quickly learned the unwritten laws of sisterhood. The main one goes something like this, "I can say/do whatever I want about or to my sister. But if someone else does or says the same, I will kill them and get rid of the body, no questions asked." I consider myself extremely lucky that they will still tell on one another, which I know is soon coming to an end. Once they gang up on us, we've had it. But for the moment, they still take tremendous joy in seeing their sister get in trouble for any reason. One of them lands on my sh#t list and it's like an alarm bell sounds for the other one. The kissing of mom's butt will now begin! "I love you, Mommy, You're so sweet." Can't you just picture the angelic little face looking up at me?
Luckily, my BS meter still works quite well. I can detect this crap at twenty paces. Ooooh, she's in trouble. Here's a chance for me to get in good with mom! Nice try, my little cherub. I'm smart enough to know that you probably started this crap, she finished it and got caught. Rest assured, your turn is coming. But for now, I'm going to enjoy listening to one of you sing my praises. Hey, sometimes you have to take what you can get.
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