The People

Sadie has never been a good sleeper.  We all know that.  But a few months ago, it was getting really bad.  Sadie, what's wrong?  Why do you not like your room?  The people.  The people in my room.  What people?  The boy.  The boy wake me up.

So I just figured she'd had a bad dream.

It continued....Kris or I have to get in bed with her until she falls asleep, sneak out, only to wake up to her screams a few hours later.  The people scare me!  The people wake me up!

Recurring dream?

It has gotten so bad that she doesn't even want to nap in her room.  She has been napping on my bed or the guest bed in Harrison's room.  I've been like - whatever, I'm not fighting this battle.  As long as she's napping, she can nap wherever she wants.  But at night, she's staying in HER bed!

We have asked more about "the people".  It never changes, she says that it's a boy.  A big boy or a little boy?  She says it's a boy like Evan (my four year old nephew).  What does the boy do?  He scare me.  He spray water on me and scare me.

A few weeks ago my mom came to visit.  She stayed in Harrison's room in the guest bed, Sadie in her own bed.  As usual, we had to go to Sadie's rescue in the night.  The next morning, my mom asked why we sat up talking in the living room after getting Sadie.  We didn't, we took her straight to our bed with us.  She said she could have sworn she heard talking.  hhhmmmm.....

Then this past weekend we went to my parents' house.  Sadie slept with my parents.  Mom told me that Sadie didn't move a muscle and slept all night.  Without any questioning, Sadie told me - I slept so good, no people come to TyTy's house.  The people stay outside and don't come scare me.  Again, hhmmmm......

The past two nights, we let Sadie sleep in the guest bed and put Harrison in her room.  She has slept all night!  Well, she made it to 4:30 the first night and 6:30 this morning.  I consider that a good night.  So this morning she told me - no people come in Harrison's room and scare me, I had good night.

This is beginning to creep me out a bit.  Or a lot.  I wonder if 1-800-GHOSTBUSTERS is a working number.

Be Still My Heart

Things that make my heart skip a beat:

My man and my girl

My men

Going outside and finding Sadie singing If You're Happy and You Know It with Harrison while doing the hand motions for him.

And yes, yellow bunny Peeps.  Not any of those weird purple or blue colors out there, and only the bunnies will do.  Please, no chicks.  Yellow Peeps, people!

At It Again

If you've kept up with my blog for a while, like a long while, you might recall my adventures in Jazzercise.    I really did enjoy the class.  Until my pregnancy with Harrison.  No way could I continue to go.  I would be running to the bathroom every eight counts to...you know.  Do what women do who have extreme morning sickness.  Anyway, that was the end of my Jazzercise career.  For a while anyway.

Harrison is here, he's seven months old now (eek!  How did that happen?), and I still have lots of Harrison fat all over my body.  So, it was time to join up again.  I've decided that it's best for me to join a class, or else I'd get on a treadmill or some other sort of machine, and once I broke a sweat decide that I'm done.  In a class, I'm stuck for a full hour.  An hour of jumping and twisting and "dancing" and sweating.  

Yesterday I went to a class with an instructor I'd never "danced" with before.  Remember Ronnie from Can't Buy Me Love.  Who could forget him?  Remember this? (I just went back and watched this clip, and it's long.  Longer than necessary.  I'm not smart enough to figure out how to only post the section necessary to get my point across.  Nor am I patient enough to research how to do it.  So just the first couple of minutes are all you need to watch.  If you choose to watch at all.  Heck, you might have stopped reading after the first paragraph, so I'm just wasting my breath right now.)

Yeah, that's how I felt.  Except the crowd didn't watch me and want to copy my every move.  I'm just not that cool.

A Picture is Worth....A Lot!!

There are many reasons why I do not like living far from my parents.  I miss them.  I would love for Sadie and Harrison to grow up close to them.  I want the kids to be able to play with their cousins regularly.  And I don't like living far from my parents for selfish reasons also.  I can't just call and say - hey, I'm bringing the kids over so I can clean, cook, run errands, workout, etc.

My house is in a constant state of...mess.  I can't go to the gym since I need childcare, so that's one of my excuses for being fat.  (actually, I could, but I'm not ready to drop off Harrison at some random room with dirty toys and a teenager.)  I go to the grocery store and end up with three bags of goldfish crackers, string cheese, some fruit and milk, but nothing to make a meal with.  It's 10:30 by the time I'm ready to leave the house, so that doesn't leave much time to do anything before needing to be home for Sadie's nap.

All of this to say, I need a little help.  Kris thinks I need a lot of help.  And all of this makes me feel like such a failure.  I'm facing the facts, though, something's gotta give.  So, the search is on.  I think my expectations are a bit unrealistic.  I want someone who I can call on a couple days a week in the morning, but not necessarily the same day every week.  I have things come up, I might have a play date for the kids, and I don't want to turn these things down because I have a scheduled sitter at my home.

Anyway, I've been searching on two different websites.  Let me tell you who I am going to immediately pass over and not even give a second chance.  Please don't post a glamour shot.  If I can't decide if they're wearing shorts or panties, I will not contact them.  Surely they can find someone to take a snapshot - I will not look at a profile if they are dressed for a night out on the town and decide that's a good time to snap a picture of themselves sitting in their car.  If the picture has a gold/orange tint to it and makes me think that it was taken in 1987, I will pass right over.  Some look like they would steal from me.  Nope.  OK, so I don't want a glamour shot, I don't want you dressed for a night on the town, but at least a little makeup would be nice.  Not even makeup.  Just dress as though you care.  A little.

Then I find pictures that are acceptable.  When reading the profile, if it's obvious they are not proficient in English, I will have to keep searching.  I need them to be able to communicate with my children.  If grammar and punctuation are a mess, most likely you will not be hired by me.

I want a younger girl who is educated and loves children.  Sounds easy enough.  But it's not.  If I want them young and educated, they're probably in school and can't help in the mornings.  Or if they are young and educated, I would hope they'd be able to get a "real" job.

Blah blah blah....this is tough.  Are there any young educated girls who know how to take a decent picture out there who would enjoy playing with my kids for a few hours each week?  We shall see.  Wish me luck as the search continues!

Date Night: Then and Now

I realize that this is very natural and not unusual, but last night it hit me.  Kris and I are like a real married couple with young kids.  When did this happen?  It's weird.  But great.  And often stressful.  But fun.

While dating, Kris and I were very casual.  Seriously dating, but our dates were casual.  Nothing really over the top or necessarily romantic.  We would hang out at home, and.....as I sit here trying to reflect on our past dating life, I cannot really remember dates.  Whatever.  Anyway....

Our church has a Kid/Parents' Night Out once a month.  Last night was that night.  Children get to play with their friends at church from 6-10:00.  So, it's 5:30 and I'm sitting at the table with wet hair feeding Harrison.  No makeup.  Sadie is running around doing who knows what.  I had just taken a shower but should have waited until after I got sprayed with sweet potatoes and cereal.  Around 5:50, Kris asks what time the kids can be dropped off.  Well, not yet since I'm not ready.  I hurriedly put on makeup, grab the first thing I could find to wear, chase Sadie in order to dress her, get Harrison's bag packed, and we're out the door.  Whew!

We leave the kids at 6:20, but we have no idea what we're going to do.  We'd thought about going to see a movie, but my thoughts were 1. it's expensive to go to the movies, and 2. if I'm sitting still in a dark room, chances are I will fall asleep.  And isn't the point of having a night out with your spouse to converse and catch up on all that you don't get to talk about while kids are around?  So we drive.  Sadie needs some clothes, her wardrobe is worn and quite limited.  OK.  So we go shopping.  For the kids.  Then we went to dinner.  And discussed kids.  What did we talk about before they came along?  The weather, I guess.

The kids were picked up.  Harrison was asleep and Sadie was sleepy.  They both got in bed without any problems.  Time to get ourselves ready for bed.  In the bathroom, Kris is brushing his teeth while I take off my makeup.  I put on my mismatched pajamas, go to bed, and Kris is already there.  Snoring.  And that was our night.

Yep, it's happened.  We are that couple.

(This is completely off topic, but I just thought I'd throw it out there.  While pregnant with Sadie, people were always so nice to help out with advice on things I would and would not need.  One item I heard over and over that was pointless was a diaper wipe warmer.  OK, won't get one of those.  So yesterday I was sitting on the floor changing Harrison's diaper when Sadie came up behind me and put a wipe on the back of my neck.  I jumped!  That thing was COLD!  Seriously.  I yelled, which she thought was hilarious.  She kept putting it on my bare skin.  I didn't like it.  If I didn't like a baby wipe on my neck, I'm sure it can't be comfortable to have your bottom wiped with one.  Poor Harrison.  I'm thinking now that I might need one after all.  Because my children are spoiled.)

Baby Jesus, Where Are You?!

Up until this year, I've always been one of those "no Christmas until after Thanksgiving" sort of people.  But I've been looking forward to enjoying Christmas with a little one who is old enough to somewhat understand things and get excited.  So I told Kris earlier this week that I wanted to get the tree up this weekend.  In fact, I never even decorated for Thanksgiving, which I usually go all out for.  (Having a needy baby played a part in this decision.)

Sadie and I were looking at a Fisher Price catalog and talking about the nativity set that was advertised. I bought her one last year and said that we should go find it.  So off to the attic we went.  I dug out boxes and boxes (big ones!) of Christmas decor.  The whole time, Sadie was saying - Baby Jesus, where are you?  Baby Jesus!  Over and over.  I'm thankful that I stopped myself from vocalizing what was in my mind.  I came so close to telling her that Baby Jesus was buried in here somewhere.  Oh my.  Under all the Santas and snowmen and ornaments, Baby Jesus couldn't be found.  My heart dropped.  Dear Jesus, I am so sorry.

I found a ceramic nativity set that she was excited to unwrap.  She found Baby Jesus and started playing with the set.  Then she dropped a piece on the floor and chipped it.  I told her we had to put it away so she didn't break it.  She immediately started crying and saying - more Jesus.  Again, conviction.

Back to the attic we went.  This time I wasn't stopping until I found her nativity set.  I dug and dug as she continued to sing - Baby Jesus, where are you?  More Jesus, more Jesus!!

That is my prayer this holiday season.  I want to have the heart of my two year old.  Let us continue to search until we find Jesus.  And may we not cover him up with Santa Claus and snowmen.  Yes, we will enjoy the lights and ornaments and presents under the tree, but I say....MORE JESUS!!

Memories....

OK, so I have nothing exciting to write about.  However, I was feeling a bit nostalgic this morning when a particular commercial/advertisement came on tv, so I thought I'd share my engagement story.  (I realize that most of you will now stop reading.  That's fine.  My feelings aren't hurt.)

Let's see....Kris and I started dating the Sunday after Thanksgiving of '04.  It didn't take long for us (well, me) to realize that we wanted to get married.  I was ready!  I tried not to push him or act too impatient, but I was getting to that point.  We never discussed rings or dates.  After a year of dating, we went to a Christmas party at a friend's house.  On the way home, he started asking me about my friends' rings since most of them were already married.  I remember calling my mom that weekend upset - mom, he's just now asking me about what style of ring I like, which means he hasn't even started looking yet!

A couple weeks before this party, I had gone home for Thanksgiving.  He stayed in Houston to study for finals.  His mom called me saying something like - Kris has worked really hard this semester, I want to surprise him by sending y'all to a play or something.  Pick a date and a show you'd like to see, I'll buy tickets, mail them to you, and the morning of you can call him and let him know that you have plans for the evening.  OK, sounds good.  I chose the last day of school before my Christmas break for us to go see A Christmas Carol.

Fast forward to the day of the surprise.  I sent him an email that morning telling him to get home from work early because we were going out, maybe we could even grab dinner before the show!  Who knew how sick I was going to get that day.  I had a migraine.  Thankfully my migraines aren't severe like they used to be, but this particular day was bad.  I came home from school and went to sleep.

When he got home and realized how sick I was, he said that we didn't have to go.  Yes, we do, this is YOUR day, Kris!  We went on to dinner, but I just sat staring at my food, too sick to eat.  Let's go home, Traci.  NO.  Can I just rest a bit before the show, though?  So we sat in his parked car and I slept until showtime.  I slept through the entire production.  As we were leaving he asked if I wanted to go look at Christmas lights or just go home.  Might as well look at lights since I had been asking him to take me.  So we got to one spot downtown and we got out of the car to walk around.

We were walking around when he began his speech with - I've been lying to you.  Uhm, what?  My heart sort of dropped.  He then goes on to tell me that the night had been all his idea because...blah blah blah, will you marry me?  Of course!  Why did it take you so long?  And amazingly, my headache went away and I felt fine!

Unfortunately, there's something with me getting sick during major events in my life.  Just wait until the day I decide to talk about my wedding week!