Wisdom from a Dad

Do you always want to be right or do you want to be happy ?

– Dr. Phil McGraw


Look what I can doo-doo!

Actually, Princess and Stinker should have spoken in stereo, because they both had excrement issues at the same time. Stinker, still in diapers *sigh*, now infamous for her fecal fingerpainting, gave us a scare again yesterday. She had her hands under the table, then produced a handful of poop that ruined our appetites. As I began cleaning up the baby, Princess passed me on the way to the bathroom. When I finished up with the pooptastrophe , I used HAZMAT tongs to carry the diaper out to the trash can next to the garage.
As I walked through the front door, Princess greeted me with a grim face. You know. The ‘I did something stupid and I know that I’m gonna get in big trouble, but I don’t want anyone else to suffer for my inappropriate behavior’ kind of face. My seven year old sheepishly told me that she had used too much toilet paper, and now her toilet wouldn’t flush. I brushed past her to inspect the damage: HOLYCOW! Sitting atop a pile of wet toilet tissue was a huge turd! One I thought would make Princess say, “Ya’ll come look at this before I flush it!” I called in the resident expert on plumbing, and after seeing what I saw, DH asked me to go get the plunger. I’m thinking: Good Luck. More than 1 and 1/2 hours later, DH was flecked with sewage, he hauled out the drain snake and promised that the next ‘tool’ he’d use would be a Bazooka. DH actually pulled out a 4 oz plastic disposable cup that the girls use to rinse their mouths after brushing their teeth. Grrrr.
So I bleached the entire bathroom, floor to ceiling, cabinets, shelves, fixtures, mirror, toothbrushes, and tub toys at 11PM last night. I have a toilet that flushes like a champ with deep, steel-gray scratches in the white porcelain bowl that we bought two years ago. DH and I agreed that our next toilet will require a much larger exit for anything flushed. *SIGH*

Oh yeah. I case you missed our Christmas Episodes (yes, we had several), go check it out!

The 20/5 Meme

Go to your 20th post (count from the top or the bottom of your list, I don’t care), find the fifth line in the post, and the statement is supposed to be a reflection of your life. I followed the instructions exactly (counting from my first post back in August), and found the words quite fitting for my perspective on my life. The post was about Date Night, and the line was as follows: The comedian Bob Smiley ( father of three boys), made us alternately laugh, cry, clap and cheer tonight- about things that happen to all parents.

I love laughing along with parents at the fantastic stories surrounding their lives in caring for their children. If you’re reading this post, consider yourself tagged.


I had no Thursday Thirteen prepared for today, and I decided to share a message that DH’s Mom sent to me recently. Every woman that I’ve come into contact with is beautiful, so what better way to tag all of them? I blogged it! Thank you, Mom.

It’s BEAUTIFUL WOMEN MONTH. TAG… YOU’RE IT! Did you know that it’s Beautiful Women Month? Well, it is and that means you!!! I’m supposed to send this to FIVE BEAUTIFUL WOMEN (or more) and you are one of them!!! Below is a wonderful poem Audrey Hepburn wrote when asked to share her “beauty tips.” It was read at her funeral years later.

1. For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
2. For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
3. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
4. For beautiful hair, let a child run his/her fingers through it once a day.
5. For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.

If you share this with other women, something good will happen . . . you will boost another woman’s self esteem, and she will know that you care about her. Have a good day!

Here’s How Our Christmas Went:

I cannot refer to my mother, my step-mother, and my mother-in-law as numbers 1, 2 & 3, because they each hold place in my heart beyond any ranking. I do refer to all three as “Mom’ in everyday life, but for this post, I’ll refer to them by the titles given them by my daughters. On the eve of Christmas Eve (aka Friday, December 23) we had Christmas with ‘Granny’ and ‘Papa Tury’. We opened presents after dinner and dessert, in spite of much wailing and gnashing of teeth. First, my five year old opened a lovely wrap sweater, and said in quite a matter-of-fact tone, “I don’t like it.” Next gift was a March of the Penguins DVD. It was as if Sweet Pea had been retro-fitted with a jet-propulsion system in her fanny. She rocketed out of the chair she was in, and began shouting “MARCHOFTHEPENGUINS! WOW! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU! HOW DID YOU KNOW I’VE ALWAYS WANTED THIS?” DH said to Granny, “See? It’s all about averages.” Hahaha!

The next night, Christmas Eve, we spent with DH’s parents, ‘Grandma’ and ‘Grandpa’. One of the gifts that Princess unwrapped was a toy electric guitar. Good thing it was the final gift, because Halie was so enthralled with her new musical instrument that she lost track of every other person and present. For an hour, Princess retreated upstairs to ‘play’ her new guitar while the rest of us watched Polar Express downstairs. Next thing I knew, Princess was giving a free concert in the front yard at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. While several cars/vans rolled slowly down the street, admiring the houses decorated in twinkling lights, my oldest daughter shouted at them: “COME SEE THE ROCK SHOW!” I’m still not sure if the drivers stopped to admire the oversized snow globe in the front yard, or to pay homage to my seven year old daughter’s efforts to produce a tune from a plastic pretend guitar. God bless them, every one.
We got home just about the girls’ bedtime, and they were adamant about setting out snacks for Santa and Rudolph. We had cookies (thanks Grandma) and milk, but I had to search for a carrot. Luckily, I found a carrot in the back of our produce drawer, and set it beside Santa’s goodies on the hearth. We did a quick splash and dash bathtime, painted on the PJs and tossed our daughters into bed. I have a routine that my Sweet Pea loves: I cover her and tuck her into her comforter, rolling her like a mummy. But my five year old looked like she was already asleep on Christmas Eve when I went to complete the routine like usual. I whispered, “Are you asleep?” and she replied in the same way, “No, but I want to fall asleep so Santa will come sooner.” I went in to kiss Princess goodnight, and she pointed to a piece of paper on a shelf in her room. “It’s a letter to Santa,” she said, “asking him to give you another chance to believe, so you can get gifts again.” Say it with me, please: Awww!

So, DH and I were up until midnight wrapping gifts. Why didn’t we do it earlier? Have you heard my motto? ‘Never put off until tomorrow what you can put off until the day after tomorrow.’ We were just headed to bed when we realized that we still needed to eat the snacks for our daughters’ benefit. DH played Santa and grabbed the cookies, while I carried on tradition playing Rudolph, and took a big bite of the carrot. At that moment, I realized 1)I had neglected to wash the carrot, and 2)the carrot tasted much worse than if I had just skipped washing it. As I dashed toward the kitchen trash, I turned the carrot over in my hand, revealing two large rotten spots I had not seen earlier. I spewed the rotten carrot chunks into the trash can while DH got me a glass of water to rinse out my mouth. Whew! I added a note to the girls from Santa about Rudolph being too full from all the snacks along the way to Texas on Christmas Eve. The next morning, my girls loved the special message from Santa!

Christmas Day began early with Sweet Pea climbing into our bed at 6AM, along with Princess about 7AM. They were cuddly and quiet, until Stinker began chirping down the hall. About 7:15, we all rolled out of bed and headed to the living room. It took about five minutes for the girls to open all of their gifts, then Princess turned to me and said what has become a tradition, a”This is the best Christmas ever!

At lunch time, we headed over to Papa and Rainie’s for the final stop on the Christmas roller coaster of gift-giving. After Sweet Pea’s reaction to the gorgeous sweater from her Granny, I wanted to head off her rotten attitude at the pass. I asked her to practice what she would say when she opened clothing gifts at my parent’s house: “Thank You!” or “Merry Christmas!”
Princess was thrilled with every package she opened. Sweet Pea? Not so much. When Rainie, who played Santa handing out gifts, gave Sweet Pea a large box, my five year old frowned. “This had better not be clothes again.” I took this as an opportunity to remind her what she needed to say, just like we rehearsed earlier in the day. In her grumpiest, muffled voice, Sweet Pea said, “thankyoumerrychristmas“. DH told everybody, “Just wait. When she’s looking for something to wear later this week, Sweet Pea will be asking for one of her new outfits!”
I hate to admit that I went through the same ungrateful brat stage at about the same age as Sweet Pea. I don’t remember it well, but I have parents who do, I’m certain.

Ain’t Nothin Like Family

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.
-Jane Howard

Nicknames Etc.

I’ve decided to use my daughters nicknames in this blog. It’s what I call them everyday. Unless they are in trouble. Then, they hear “FIRSTNAMEMIDDLENAMELASTNAME, GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!” So, from this point on the seven year old will be referred to as Princess, the five year old as Sweet Pea, and the two year old as Stinker.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled blog surfing. Thank you.

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