I remember being in 3rd grade when I had my first boyfriend.  His name, coincidentally, was also Wesley.  He was a toe head with blue eyes who used to write me love notes that contained Michael Jackson lyrics.  He remained my boyfriend until we moved, which was an eternity to an 8yo.  So, it should be no surprise that my child is now  going through this experience.  However, it IS is surprise that it's Victoria and not Trevor.  It's the second week of school, and she already has a boyfriend.  It's the real deal, too- as in they actually call each other "boyfriend" and "girlfriend".  These are the things I've learned thus far:  his name is Tyler, he calls her name and winks at her several times a day, and they are no longer allowed to walk next to one another in the hallway because they won't stop talking to each other.  He has also sworn to protect her and pretends to do so on the playground.  While I'm thrilled that my little princess is adjusting to school so well, I'm not ready for her to be past the "boys are gross" phase.  Although, now that I think about it, she never went through that.  Maybe it's due to her close relationships with her brother and father. Also, she loves super heroes and Transformers, so it should be no surprise that she's gravitated toward boys.  In my mind, she's still the little girl who loves pink, Disney princesses, and playing dress up.  Now, she likes red, putting on makeup, and playing video games.  So, it's not so much that she has a boyfriend, I'm really just upset that she keeps growing up.

Ah...deafening silence.  As much as I looked forward to today for...I don't know...the last 2 months, I was a little sad to see the kids go.  The once never ending summer was over in a matter of minutes, it seemed.  But now I sit here next to my toddler, who is by far the most independent and quiet (when not screaming at her sister) of my children, and for the first time in weeks, I am totally at ease and stress-free.  They say that you aren't really a parent until you have 2, which makes me a parent with extra credit, I guess.  At least with 2, you're evenly matched- man to man coverage, if you will.  With 3, it's a zone defense where you just scramble to handle whatever comes at you (that's right, Wesley, I know a little sports vernacular).  And, this summer it was 3 on 1, which meant that on any given day someone was bound to be yelling at someone else for moving their cheese or whatever, so I was constantly refereeing.  By the end of the summer, I was so mentally and physically exhausted, I could barely move.  I finally recovered at the beach, since I had help 24/7 and a lot less clutter to manage.  We also had company for us and the kids during the first half of the trip, and that proved to be a Godsend.  For the first time in forever, my kids were not under my feet (thank you Dana and Caylin!).  For now, I will enjoy the peace of only having 1 child during the day, since I begin clinicals next week, and my life will yet again be turned upside down.

I could not get this child to take a decent picture with me.

If you look really close, you can see a rainbow.

Bottany Bay Road

First Day of School

That sound you hear is the collective sigh of relief from all the stay at home moms.  It's finally August, which means school is right around the corner.  It's been a long-very long- summer of cleaning up messes, refereeing fights, and entertaining the masses. There have been numerous breakdowns- mine as well as the kids'.  Not to mention I was in school this summer, which was something I originally did not intend to do.  It wasn't too rigorous, but it was still a weekly commitment that added to the stress in the household.  I'm happy to say that I completed the Nursing Assistant course and am awaiting a test date assigment so that I can officially become certified to wipe butts, give baths, and feed people (things I've been doing for 9 years now, I might add).  

This Sunday, we're going to the beach for a week, so I'm about to be relieved of my daytime single parent duties, well for 2 of them. The baby will still be with me- just the 2 of us, which I think she prefers.  While I'm looking forward to the break, it comes with some sadness.  My middle child is entering Kindergarten.  She and Sophie have been the gruesome twosome at home with me for more than a year, and she has suprised me with how caring and protective she can be.  There is this amazing side to Victoria that Sophie has brought out, and I'm grateful that I had this year with her to really get to know her and see her potential.  I have no doubts that she will flourish in Kindergarten, as she is my little social butterfly.  I will miss her terribly, though, and the house will be strangely quiet, since she is definitely the loudest member of our clan.

I am excited for Victoria to be joining her brother, since they will be in the same school.  He's excited to show her around and walk her to her class.  It will be a nice change from annoying older to brother to protective companion.  I am currently listening to them argue over a video game, which has been a recurring theme this summer, so the time apart will do them (and me) wonders.

Before we go to the beach and take 80 bajillion more pictures, I need to unload the ones I've already taken this summer.  Enjoy.

Like probably every other mother, the Casey Anthony debaucle has got me thinking.  I think we all can agree that regardless of whether or not she killed that baby (she did), the fact that she didn't notify anyone for a month and only did so AFTER her mother forced her to proves that she only cared about herself the entire time and couldn't have cared less about that little baby.  As a mother, I will never understand her actions or those of any other abusive parents.

I became a mother when I was 23, and at that young age,  I immediately knew that was my purpose in life.  Don't get me wrong- they drive me crazy on pretty much a daily basis, but when I look at them, I see 3 people who love me unconditionally and who are totally dependent on me.  I adore them, even when I'm yelling at them and wishing to God I could just have a moment's peace.  There are days when I'm at the end of my rope because the house is destroyed, the laundry is piled up, and the kids have been screaming at one another all day.  These are the days that Trevor gives me a hug and tells me he loves me, or Victoria cracks me up with her impeccable comedic timing, or Sophie points at me and announces "You're fired!"  They are already amazing little people, I can't wait to see who they grow up to be.

When I hear stories about Caylee Anthony, Christian Choate (even more horrific story, if you don't already know), and others, I look at these faces. 

I guess the silver lining, if there is one, is that every horrible story I read makes me appreciate the love that we have that much more.  I hold them a little tighter, spoil them a little more, and have the satisfaction of knowing that my kids will grow up knowing that they are loved.

This weekend is Father's Day Weekend, and to celebrate, my husband took all 3 of my kids to the lake with his family.  I was unable to go, because for the past month, I have been studying to get my Nursing Assistant certification (hence the lack of posts).  I am now doing the Lab/Clinical portion, which has consumed the last 2 Saturdays as well as 4 more in July.  This means the burden of weekend entertainment is falling on Wesley, and he's handling it like a champ.  The extra super awesome thing about today is that I got out of lab early, and he told me not to even worry about trying to make it to the lake, so I had 4 glorious hours all to myself.  I can't remember the last time I didn't have someone in my lap, hanging on my leg, hogging my television, etc.  It was wonderful.  The kids came back exhausted and calm and went to bed with no problems.  He even snapped a few cute pics along the way.

 This whole leg thing has been a nightmare from start to finish.  Unfortunately it has all been completely my fault.  I broke the baby.  I held her down so she could get x-rays.  I confined her while she was getting her cast.  And, I had the brilliant idea to take the cast off ourselves in order to spare her from the loud, scary saw.  For the love of God, don't do this at home!!!

I started by trying to soften the cast off in the tub.  I thought it was plaster, but after I had already gotten her foot sopping wet, I figured out it was fiberglass, which does not soften in water.  Sophie, who normally loves baths, fought me on getting in the water.  Apparently a 2yo is smarter than I am or at least has better instincts.  So, after I got the foot wet, and it had started to prune, I took her out of the tub and slowly started chipping away at the cast with nail clippers.  I wanted to use something stronger, but she was wiggling and screaming every time I even looked at her cast, so I had to use the safest implement I could find.  I knew I was going to need something mega strong, though, so I had Wesley get tin snips from Lowe's.  Everything went smoothly until we got to the top of the foot where it connects to the leg.  Apparently the guy who was frantically wrapping her foot and trying to get the screaming baby out of there ASAP neglected to put enough padding in this area.  So, when Wesley got to this point, the cast was stuck to her foot.  Sophie had been complaining about her cast since she got it on, and she had pointed to this area, so I'm pretty sure that's what the problem was.  Anyway, Wesley was unable to pop the cast off and ended up having to basically force her foot out of it.  Of course by this time, we were all in tears and realized this was a gigantic mistake, and we should have just let them use the saw, which would have scared the bejeezus out of her, but would have only lasted a few minutes instead of the hours it took us to do it.

Slowly Sophie began using her foot again, and she was walking a little by Saturday.  She's now walking constantly, with a limp mind you, but she's walking.  And this injury isn't stopping her as you can see from the photos below.  We went to our little cousin's birthday party, which was at a Jump House.  Sophie ended up climbing the tallest slide they had, using the inflatable rock climbing wall.  She did this 3 times.  They also had a zip line which was several feet up in the air, so my daredevil Vic made a beeline for it.  She had done it twice before Trevor felt it was safe enough for him.  He looked terrified both times, but I think he felt like he had to do it since his little sister did.

After the party, we went to our cousins' farm, where they have horses, dogs, a trampoline, golf cart, etc.  It was basically their dream come true.  In fact they all want to go back and have a camping weekend there.  I'm an indoor girl, so I think Wesley's cousin and I will have a girl's night in while the kids and husbands become one with nature.

***I fought with my camera the entire time in the jump house.  It hated the lighting apparently, because no setting would work.

See the rock climbing wall in the middle?  That's what Sophie climbed up not once, not twice, but 3 times.  The next pic is her coming down behind Vic.

Here's Caylin with her present that was hand picked by Wesley.  It's a paintball gun.  He also supplied her with extra carbon cartridges and 500 yellow paint balls.  I can't wait to see what Dana gets ours for Christmas.  

Here's my little daredevil at the end of her first trip on the zip line.

 I have done nothing...nada...zilch today, and for once I don't feel guilty about it.  It's my day to do whatever I want, right?  The only thing I missed out on today is a nap.  And at 4:45 in the afternoon, I'm still not ruling that out.  Meanwhile, my kids entertained themselves outside for the longest I can ever remember.  This was due, in part, to the sprinkler as well as the giant mudhole it created under the swing set.  Sophie watched from the window at first, and then I took her out to the deck.  Below is the aftermath.

To update everyone, I ended up taking Sophie to the Orthopaedist on Friday.  He didn't see anything on the x-ray but said that hairline fractures often don't show up.  He didn't want to do an MRI, because wiggly toddlers don't do so well with those, so he felt it was best to treat it as a break.  She still wasn't putting any weight on her foot at all which he said was a sign that something was definitely wrong.  The treatment, unfortunately, is a plaster cast with a boot.  He said she would be able to walk, which she STILL hasn't (2 days later!).  The casting process was a nightmare, to say the least.  She was fine at first, because they had distracted her with bubbles, but then I guess the plaster starts heating up or something because she got hysterical and started screaming.  Every once in a while I could hear her say "HOT!". She was clinging so tightly to my neck while 2 people finished up her cast, and they shoved us out the door before it was even dry.  She was still whimpering when I got her in the car, and after I buckled her up, I heard the faintest "scared" come from the back seat.  Heartbreaking, to say the least.  Then to make it worse, after we got home she repeated her famous guilt inducing line, "Sorry, Mommy.  I didn't mean to."  

Here are the sad pictures to accompany the pathetic situation.  The first 2 were taken on Friday when we got home.  The second 2 are pictures of her watching her brother and sister play outside in the sprinkler today, which she, of course, couldn't do.  I did take her out there shortly after to watch them play, and that seemed to help.

Before I launch into this story, I must remind you that we had a pact that no matter what you read on here, you wouldn't report me to the authorities.  Actually, it was more of a contract.  I think you signed it in blood.  It's legally binding...Please don't rat me out.

2 days ago, the girls and I were about to take Trevor to school.  Since I'm a good mommy (a fact that may be debatable now), I usually carry Sophie to the car, so she won't hurt her precious toesies on the driveway, that is often littered with debris like sticks, rocks, pinestraw.  Actually as I'm telling this, I realize this is Wesley's fault for not keeping the driveway clear. 

Anyway, as we rounded the walkway, my ankle gave out.  Again, not my fault that I was born with weak ankles.  So, the next thing I know, I'm on the ground, Sophie is in front of me screaming, bleeding, and shaking, and Trevor has my glasses and keys in his hands.  I sat there, stunned for a moment, then frantically checked the baby over, while chanting "I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to." She was screaming like something was broken, but I didn't see any protrusions, swelling, bruises, etc.  She continued to cry for the next 30 min- all the way to Trevor's school, through the carpool line, and back.  I got her settled on the couch, and she calmed down.

Then 2 hours later it dawned on me that she hadn't moved from that spot on the couch.  I didn't want to push her, since I'd already traumatized her enough for the day, but I did want to make sure she was in working order.  I picked her up from the couch and put her down on the ground.  She immediately started crying and reached up for me.  No matter what I did, I couldn't get her to walk. Uh oh.  So, I called the doctor, and made an appointment for the afternoon.  Then I obsessively scoured the internet regarding toddler leg injuries and consistently read that with those types of injuries, they have to rule out child abuse first.  I was a little nervous about the appointment, but I figured the abrasions from the heel of her foot all the way up to her knee were consistent with my "oops I dropped the baby" story, that they would have little doubt with what happened.  Plus, if I were trying to hide something, I wouldn't have rushed her there immediately.

The doctor checked her out and mentioned that there could be a fracture, so then we were sent to Image Care for xrays.  Meanwhile I had to pick Trev up from school, so I had the pleasure of taking all 3 children with me.  I have to say that Trevor was a trooper, as usual, and Victoria was truly amazing.  She hung in there with us the entire day and did everything I asked.  She and Trevor had to sit in the waiting room while Sophie had her xrays, and they were little angels.  They did hear Sophie screaming all the way out there, though, so I think they were worried.

The results came back quickly- no break, but if she's not walking by Wednesday, she needs to come back.  Well, today is Wednesday, and she's still not walking.  However, she has reverted back to crawling, and she's able to shimmy up and down to get on and off the furniture with her amazing baby strong arms.  Since nothing is broken, I'm not sure what they can really do at this point, but I will be taking her back on Friday if she's not better.

To make this story even sadder, every time I pick her up, she clings to my neck for dear life.  And every time we walk by "Ground Zero", she says, "Sorry Mommy.  I didn't mean to."  So, do I still get to celebrate Mother's Day if I broke one of my children?

Also, I'd like to show photographic evidence that she is, indeed, fine.  She is smiling and gets around just as well as she does on 2 legs.  Take a look at her room in the last picture.  She's still able to destroy every room in the house.

I'll start with the good.  Yesterday was a lovely day.  Nana and Papa came over, and I cooked a lunch complete with ham, potato salad, deviled eggs, baked beans, crescent rolls, and a strawberry pie.  It was my first ham, and no one got food poisoning, so I consider it a success.  While the ham was cooking, Sophie and I took a stroll around the neighborhood, and this was probably my favorite part of the day.  She pointed out everything around her- trees, the sky, cars, etc.  On the way back to the house, she stopped to pick every dandelion.  It's amazing to see the world through a 2-year-old's eyes.  Nana and Papa brought Easter baskets for everyone, including us, so my pantry and bathroom are now fully stocked.  Thanks to them for making yesterday so special.

Last night, we dyed the eggs.  No one fought, and there was only one egg casualty. 

I don't know what happened between last night and this morning, but everyone (except yours truly) woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe that's because I slept on the couch.  The baby had a rough night, so we slept together in the living room.  Trevor was awake at 6 am.  Vic stayed up too late.  Wesley...well, Wesley was just Wesley.  Let's just say that waking up in the morning and hiding eggs is not his thing. 

So, I went out and hid 42 plastic eggs.  I hid some on the ground for the baby, some at Vic's eye level, and some higher up for Trev.  Of course, the older 2 went for the ones on the ground first, despite being told a few times that those were for the baby.  Then, all hell broke loose.  Vic accused Trev of taking an egg that she was about to get (which he did), and she tried to get it back out of his basket.  She ended up smacking the bottom of his basket, and the next thing we knew, eggs were all over the ground.  Some yelling and screaming occurred, and people were fighting over these ridiculous plastic eggs. And this was about 5 minutes into the hunt.

Trevor and Victoria were sent inside. So, Sophie was the winner by default.  After the commotion ended, she had a fantastic time hunting the eggs alone.

Wesley is currently on a bike ride.  He took some cash with him, so I'm a little nervous he may not return.  When/if he does, I think we all are due for a well-derserved Easter nap.