Dog days

Some days just aren’t a win.

I took the day off today to hang out with the girls, as our babysitter had some things she needed to do today.

The dog needed shots etc… and today was a good enough day for it.

When I told the kids it was time to go and that we were in a hurry, Caroline changed clothes TWICE from the perfectly acceptable outfit she had on.

Claire put on three different pairs of church shoes, after I requested flip flops or boots anything that can get dirty.

I was hollaring before we even left the house. The usual Get Dressed! Where are your SHOES?! Please stop locking the car door so your sister can get in! BUCKLE YOUR SEAT BELT!

When we arrived, the dog jumped out of the car nicely instead of requiring me to lift him down. I thought my luck must be turning.

I was trying to get the silly dog calm in the waiting room while the kids giggled and bounced on the seats. They squabbled and poked at the dog making him get up and dance too.

Sit King! Girls SIT DOWN. Girls quit taking to King!! King SIT!

The people at the waiting room were amused. One lady offered her thoughts that neither kids nor dog were listening to me.

I didn’t think it was unkind…..because she wasn’t wrong.

Once the vet called us back, it was more of the same – though the kids were both on the floor at one point laying on their backs beside the dog. But the dog at least was halfway listening. So that was an improvement.

I briefly considered leaving the kids to clean cages and just taking the dog. But I figured they might charge me board on them and decided against it.

Once we got home we took time and thoroughly brushed the dog and got gigantic amounts of hair off him (undercoat) and gave him a bath.

Because it was hot, we were sweaty and the hair stuck to us. After the dog bath, the kids needed a kid bath before their lunch and nap.

Now yesterday morning I asked Claire to pick up the clothes she threw on her closet floor. She had been procrastinating and dawdling for 36 hours at this point.

After nap today I insisted. And she resisted.

Finally after piddling around for 3 hours she began to pick up one piece of clothing At. A. Time. And ssslloowwwwly looked over each one.

Skips down the hall singing.

“Mama? This a size 5? ” While holding up a shirt. (The kid can read numbers just fine)

Me: Yes Claire. It is a 5.

Claire: giggles. “Are you surrrreeee???”

Me: Claire!

She then scurried off and deliberately hung that item on the hanger, only to repeat the process with the next thing she picked up.

Gahhhhh.

That is how my day went. All day. When they weren’t balking at helping me they were fighting with each other. It seemed like one of them was screaming and the other crying all day. And if it wasn’t screaming/crying it was plotting and racious laughter.

At the table over dinner tonight I was trying to explain it to Lynn.

He wasn’t getting it. Until Claire piped up “Yeah. Sissy tried to put dog poop on my shirt today”

WHAT? His eyes were big – she had Lynn’s attention now.

Mischievous Claire went on to describe a backyard stick fight (while I was inside the house vacuuming) that turned gross when they stuck their fighting sticks in…you guessed it. Fresh stinky dog poop. Caroline tossed in details from the other room.

The combination of their shameless description with Lynn’s horrified face was too much for my tired nerves. I laughed uncontrollably until I cried and couldn’t breathe.

Finally. He got it. The kids were mean today.

Whew.

They got baths with soap, and have been turned over to their Daddy for tucking in tonight while I take a break.

Little stinkers.

I thought I wanted boys

When we were thinking about children, I was confident we would have boys. I would be a better boy mom, right? Dirt is easier to deal with than drama. And then boys could help Lynn on the farm.

And so I had it decided.

Then we had girls. Pink, glittery, dramatic girls.

Strong minded, strong willed. Smart girls. Girls that put on a tutu to play in the mud. Girls that argue, then brawl, then are once again best friends. Girls that are wild, and loud and messy.

We have play tieras and dressy tieras. Dresses and overalls, barn boots and those plastic dress up heels that girls clomp through the house in.

They pick their noses and carry purses.

We put on our pajamas for movie nights and snuggle and eat unholy amounts of popcorn.

Ordinary things are emphasized. Church is an occasion, and one must dress for it. Holidays are somehow brighter. Shopping is exhausting…but fun. There are glimpses of how in a few years shopping with both girls will really be fun, and still be totally dramatic.

Two sweet girls love on me. Two emotionally needy kids need totally different things, and RIGHT NOW. Feet stomp, eyes roll. Compliments are given.

We have bows, rubber bands and headbands but never can find a hairbrush. We have 10 hairbrushes, so it’s a great mystery.

Accessories are selected for me. Eyebrows are raised in disaproval of my fashion that doesn’t meet their standards.

They love nail polish and makeup and feeling pretty. They love the accomplished feeling they get when they help feed cattle. They want to drive the tractor, but so far are terrible drivers.

We have long and deep talks about feelings. Too soon it will be talks about boys.

Life will never be the same for me and I am so glad for it.

My world needed a little magic. Thank God for girls.

Not invited to the party

This morning after her breakfast I was changing Claire’s diaper. 

(Yes. I know she’s almost three…And STILL mostly in diapers. I know she’s too old. Somebody needs to come get her to change her stubborn little mind about how fabulous big-girl-undies are)

I asked her to give me her pacifier. 

(Again. I know she’s too old for it! But, I’m making up this parenting thing as I go)

She said “No”. And smirked at me.

I quit smiling and TOLD her to give me the Paci.

“Nope” she laughed in my face.

I probably was making the scary face that renders normal kids speechless as I removed it from her stubbornly gritted teeth and tossed it over to her bed. (My scary look does nothing to intimidate Claire)

“Mama! Dat not nice! You not vited to my birthday!” 

(She just uninvited me from the birthday party **I** am throwing)

Oh no she didn’t.

I told her that there is not a party unless I am there because I make it happen . 

(Lynn was snickering at me around the corner for saying “I make parties happen”)

Claire wasn’t impressed either. But we had to go to work and school. Since the girls squabbled all the way to school (and lost cartoon privileges for the day) I didn’t pursue it further.

So tonight at dinner she brought up her birthday cake, and said something about strawberries (or dawberries as she calls them)

She looked at me and her eyes gleamed with mischief. “You not vited”

Me “Well, I always bring the cake to the party. So I guess I’ll have to eat it all by myself since I cant bring it now that I’m not invited”

Caroline, ever helpful pipes up “Mmm. I’ll go with Mama and help her eat cake”

Claire “You vited! You vited! Don’t eat all my cakeeeeeee”

Me “I’m only bringing cake if Daddy, me, and Sissy can come” 

Claire “And Mamaw, and Papaw, and Jon” (She calls Will, Jon because it makes him mad….She’s a rascal)

So maybe with the help of the 5 year old I won that round. Who knows what tomorrow’s challenge(s) will be!

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