On the Sly…

If you were famous, what name would you leave in a hotel registry? You can learn about the Dixie Chicks and others here. Me? I’d use my Native American name, according to
Dances with Wolves: Shops with a List and my husband Wind In His Pants, accompanied by our children: Runs with Scissors, Hides from Cameras, and Paints with Poo.


Guest Post

Go over to Philip’s blog: The Blue Sloth and see why it is I don’t live life by society’s standards. I love it that he’s making us think about how we ‘do’ life.

Welcome Weekend

When DH’s mom and dad asked about taking Halie(7) and Catie(5) on the road for the holiday weekend, my answer was ‘yes‘. They left Friday evening, dropped mom off to stay the weekend with her mother and grandmother in Oklahoma, and continued on to the family farm in Kansas. DH and I had only Rosie and each other to enjoy the weekend with. We asked aloud, “What will we DO with ourselves?”

The answer quickly came in the form of water damage to the screen of our 65″ rear-projection television. The TV was off while ( I assumed) Rosie was playing in her room and I unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher. When I finished, I called Rosie into the living room to watch a show that she loves on Noggin. Well, when I turned the TV on, I noticed a mysterious solid black spot at the bottom left of the screen. I called my husband in, who investigated more closely and found the the bottom of the screen was dripping. At that moment, my exact thoughts: *Oh, crap!* Turns out, as I was busy in the kitchen, Rosie had sprayed the TV screen. Up close. With the only spray bottle that she could possibly reach: the Johnson’s Detangler. What can I say? She’s watched me clean her fingerprints of the TV screen daily for the last two years.
DH set about removing the screen from the body of the unit, having me balance it while he worked at dismantling the screen, separating the screen into its three unique layers and gently drying them off. My husband could have been angry (in fact, he was), but instead chose to say, “Gee, honey. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of my TV and learn about how it works. I’m glad I did this.” My sweet Prince Charming! (for you guys out there, we fixed the precious TV)

Saturday, DH had to work, so it was just me and Rosie at home. All day. My two year old was eating this up. She climbed into bed with us about 4AM and snuggled until 6. She did it again the next night. And the next. We finally realized that she has never spent a night alone in her room. My sweet girl may not have the words to say that she missed her sisters, but her actions gave it away!

Sunday, we spent the afternoon with my family at my dad’s. He grilled steaks for us (perfecto!), and dessert was fruit salad flavored with one bottle of Grand Marnier, topped with vanilla ice cream. DH, Rosie and I were the first carload there, and my toddler immediately headed out to the backyard. I put Rosie swim diaper on her, sprayed her with Bullfrog, and turned on the hose. Minutes later, my dad was lugging out the compressor to blow up the ‘whale’ kiddie-pool. Rosie immediately climbed in and stood there, waiting for the hose to fill it five inches deep. She spent the better part of an hour all alone in that splash pool, four feet from where I sat.
My sister Kelly, her husband Justin and their six-month-old son, Aidan joined us later. They also brought along some swim diapers and Aidan got to experience the pool for the very first time. My father was at the grill when he suddenly turned, and asked me, “What’s that sound?” Before I could even figure out what noise he was talking about, my dad answered his own question: “Is that Rosie? She does talk! I’ve just never been able to hear her over the other two girls.” Hahahaha! Good one, Dad. For those of you who have never shared breathable air with my five and seven year old daughters: It is quite tough to get a word in edgewise in our home.

Monday morning, as I woke to find Rosie nestled in my ‘pillows‘, I was thinking about what I miss about Halie and Catie. Actually, my mind wandered FIRST to what I do not miss: bickering, tattling, cleaning up after them. As it turns out, those are the exact reason that I DO miss them. I should say ‘DID’ miss them, since they returned home, sunkissed, safe and sound about 8PM. Each of them greeted me individually, throwing their long arms around my neck and telling me of how much they had missed me and asking if I had missed them or if Rosie had cried while they were gone. *sigh* It’s good to have my daughters home.

Rather than dealing with Blogger that will only let me upload ONE. STINKING. PICTURE. AT. A. TIME today, click on my Flickr badge over on the right. Under my ‘Rosie’ Set ====>

Googlers Beware!

Lucinda piqued my curiosity, so I have been monitoring the searches that land folks at my blog. Pretty interesting, and I have some advice for these strange Googlers:

Nudity Family Locker Room
Do you wish to take your small child of the opposite sex into the locker room with you? I say, if the child is under five, then Why Not? If you are wanting to educate your child (or yourself) on general anatomy – buy a book!

Circus Clothes
Try a Thift Store!

tattooed circus woman poster

“potty training” poop OR pooped OR poopy OR poopies OR stinky OR poo
You came to the right place. I’m not afraid to talk about poop.

slip-n-slide human bowling
Uh. You’ll have to talk to my father.

immediate use of “bc powder” for heart attack
I’d be dialing 9-1-1, not running to CVS for BC Powder, but that’s just me.

holding my pee
After three babies, I’m still trying to figure it out.

This has been rather entertaining for me. When I have nothing else to post, I will do this again!

Wanna See ME?

I know, I know. I’m taking the mystery out of my blog. There wasn’t really very much left unsaid, was there? Okay, the photo of me and Rosie on Baylor’s page is more recent, but the video shows the way I looked in the Spring of 2005. My hair is much longer now, and my kids have grown like weeds, but it’s still me. Same voice and personality. The essentials of what happened to me on May 21, 2003. Yeah, and my DH is in it too. There’s video link here.


Public Preschool for Children with Disabilities. Rosie was evaluated last Monday, which means that the diagnosticians attempted to have her sit still to take standardized tests. My child was having no part of it. Rosie was, however, jabber-jabber-jabbering almost the entire time. The problem was, I was the only individual in the room who could understand a single word of it. The diagnosticians asked me if Rosie could point to an object that was out of her reach, indicating that she wants it. As if on cue, my daughter managed an impressive display of her Jedi powers: Rosie reached up for stuffed dog on top of a bookshelf and gently grunted, as if she’s willing the dog to fly into her hand. It didn’t work. Never works, but who am I to crush her dream? The end of the hour-long session was filled with shrieks, accompanied by flailing arms and feet, of course. I couldn’t help but smile at Rosie. I was beginning to think that she wouldn’t qualify for the Special Needs program in our school district. Then, she really expressed herself! I was both mortified and proud, all in the same moment. As we finished up, I scooped up my still-screaming two year old, tossed her over my shoulder, and headed to the office to sign out. We garnered stares, but since we were in a Special Education Center, the looks on the faces I saw said: “She’s in the right place!” By the time we reached the car, Rosie had composed herself, and was holding up her right hand, attempting to sign ‘I love you’ in ASL. *sigh* I taught her that!

On Thurday afternoon, I went to the ARD (Admission, Review, Dismissal) meeting, to learn the fate of my toddler. I was not surprised when I was told that because this happened at the very end of the school year, and Rosie was not cooperative, the standardized testing was not performed. The diagnosticians had to base their decisions on what I had told them, plus what they had seen of Rosie during the evaluation. It seemed as though the staff there were choosing their words carefully, making sure they used the kindest, safest terminology with me. I held up one hand and said, “You are not going to offend me. I know that underneath it all, we are all here to find the best possible solution for my daughter. You don’t have to sugar-coat anything. I’m just glad that Rosie’s getting the help she needs!” The principal of the school was attending the meeting (a fellow redhead, BTW) and finally spoke up and said, “We all agree that Rosie is an excellent candidate for school next fall, and I’d like to extend an invitation for you to enroll her to begin attending in August.” My heart began to belt out Ella Fitzgerald: At last, my love has come along, my lonely days are over, and life is like a song…”
I know, I know. It’s a love song. I grew up listening to it. When I’m filled with joy, that’s the song that comes to mind – and I feel it all the way down to my toes.
I met Rosie’s two teachers for next year (she’ll be in a class with other ‘regular’ kids), one teacher is Special Ed and the other is General Ed. Rosie will attend regular classes, with the exception of being pulled out of class for two 30 minute Speech Therapy sessions each week. Did I say that I’m thrilled? I am.
So, while Rosie will be attending a Special Ed preschool, she is not disabled. She is just delayed in her speech development. There is no reason to believe that Rosie will continue to need assistance once she begins Kindergarten. Thank you to all my readers who have thought about and prayed over our family situation with Rosie. You have helped!

It’s Summer Now

Halie’s last day of school was Thursday. We’ve had weather in the high 90’s for the last two weeks and it’s only May. I was born in Chicago, Illinois, where it was said that we only had three (of the possible four) seasons. They are known as July, August, and Winter. My family moved to Texas in early August 1979. I turned five at the end of that month. It was H.O.T. that year! In fact there was a record-setting heat wave with a high of 115 degrees or something, but of course, we were away, visiting family in Chicago. 26 summers later, I’m still in Texas, and I have come to know the three seasons of weather in Texas: Hot, Hotter than Hell, and Nuclear Fission. So glad DH and I got the tinting up in April this year. I don’t know which rock we’d try to squeeze money out of to pay the electric bill for another Nuclear Fission Summer.

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