Scrumptious is spanish and other stories

Spanish

Bella loves to pretend like she's speaking Spanish. My parents tell me that I loved to "speak" French when I was about her age. Anyway, she had an apple and she told me how wonderful it was to have a juicy apple to eat. Our conversation went as follows:

Bella: Mommy, I love apples.
Me: That's great, honey! I love apples, too. And they're very good for you.
Bella: Yeah, but did you know that apples are scrumptious?
Me: Yes, I did know that.
Bella: Yes, and scrumptious is spanish for apple.
Me: Oh, really! I thought manzana was spanish for apple.
Bella: (ornery smile) Oh, I didn't know that. Manzana (giggle).

Bisgusting

Bella: Don't touch that barbie, Mommy! She's bisgusting!
Me: What?! Why is she disgusting?
Bella: Well, look at her! Her shoes are just bisgusting! So don't touch her.
Me: (laugh) Okay, Bella.

(Where did she get that? I must have a future fashionista on my hands)

God says. . .

Yesterday my lovely daughter was "letting" me help pick up her playroom. I guess I got a taste of my own medicine. I had put one of her baskets in the dress up trunk, and she says, "Mommy, God says NOT to put baskets in the trunk. They don't go there." It would've been better if she'd wanted to give me a painkent afterwards.

A sad goodbye

Aaron has been getting on to me lately for looking at pictures of our old house. I think part of me still wants to move back. Everything we had done to our house over the last three years made it feel like home to me. Not to mention how it was the first house I had lived more than a year in since my junior year in high school. We had so many good memories there, but I know this world isn't our home. So, I have to say goodbye, house. I'm leaving you behind.

Rowan's birthday

So. . .Rowan's birthday happened a long time ago, but we never really got to celebrate it. I can already hear the complaints when she's older about being the middle child and completely forgotten, but honey, you were not forgotten. First of all, your birthday was around the same time we were putting our house on the market. We had your party planned and everything. . . until the open house conflicted. We had the best intentions of rescheduling the week after. . . and then the house sold and we had to pack. And then we were going to have it once we moved in with the family that was here, and then. . . you fell asleep before we could celebrate. The last attempt was a few weeks ago with some friends. I had baked you your 2nd birthday cake and then. . . you fell asleep. Again. So here are the pictures of your birthday we took several months after the date. You (at least) got to eat some of your cake.

The perfect mom

Sometimes I wonder where I got the idea of the perfect mom from. Is it an idea for us to strive for? Is it the same as the idea of perfection that leads us to God? Is it from God, or is it completely unrealistic? Maybe all the goals of the Christian life are a little unrealistic. Maybe that's why we're called hypocrites, but it doesn't make it a less worthy goal.
Sometimes I feel like I have so many balls in the air that if one falls, all of them tumble down. This sortof happened tonight. I'm so thankful, however, that it brings me to my knees. Where are the moms that have it together? Are they just waiting for the balls to drop?

My husband

This last week was Aaron's birthday, so I wanted to write a little memoir honoring my man. Here are some of reasons I am thankful for you, honey:
1. You always put the toilet seat down after using it. I never realized what a pet peeve of mine leaving it up was until we had guests that didn't perform the same courtesy.
2. You don't complain, get angry, or make demands when the house is a mess. You quietly and quickly pick it up. It makes me feel awful (and thankful) for allowing it get so bad. =)
3. You always want and listen to my advice (no matter how scattered and hormonal it may be). I can't tell you how special this makes me feel. You are not a man who listens to many people. You are picky about who you let in and share things with, so thank you for honoring me this way.
4. When things are complicated, you don't try to understand. You simply support my decisions and listen to me rant. I love this. You let me make my own decisions. You are such a good man to offer me good advice, but it doesn't threaten you if I decide on something else. Thank you for giving me this freedom.
5. You are a considerate lover. I'll make no more comments and leave the rest for you alone. I'm sure everyone will appreciate it. =)
6. I can tease and pick on you for a laugh. You take it so well.
7. There are so many other things I could say, but I'll conclude with number 7. The most important thing you are that makes me so thankful to be your wife is: you are a man of God. This is the sexiest thing about you. I can think of so many times when the only comfort I had was knowing that God is with you and that you were following Him. You teach me so much about standing firm in a dark world and being quick to pray and seek God's will (by reading your Bible) when things get hard. I admire your strength, courage, and integrity. Thank you, Jesus, for giving us this grace.


Sidenote: No one is perfect and good except Christ our Lord. But it is through the grace of God that we can love imperfect people and be loved as well. Love overlooks a multitude of offenses; it is not our job to change people, but to love, forgive, and give out of the abundance God supplies.

A good girl

Rowan is my good girl, or so she says. Especially when there are miniature colored marshmallows involved. In fact, before (and usually after) meals there are many trips to the pantry where she points her little finger, makes a grimace, and "eeeehhhhh!!!!" When I come to see what she wants, she starts saying "good girl, good girl."
I'm not quite sure how this caught on, but I have to admit it worked at first. I've been racking my brain asking if at one time I told her that she got marshmallows because she was a good girl? Or maybe she's just that smart? I prefer to think that I would never have done the former and that she just realized that Bella got treats when she was a good girl. The funny thing is, Rowan is not usually a good girl. Especially when she wants miniature colored marshmallows.
Lately she's taken to putting toys in the shutters when we aren't looking. She knows she's not supposed to open the shutters, but I guess it's her way of being sneaky or saying 'ha! I don't have to listen to you!' It starts so young doesn't it?

Bella's hoop la loop

In case you haven't met my oldest daughter, Bella is a hoot. She loves to perform and frequently has "Bella shows" for our enjoyment. Today was all about Bella's hoop la loop (her hoo la hoop). It was an instructional show with detailed performances with her hoop la loop. She would first have an introduction, telling me what the show was, who was performing (there were many guests on the show) and then tell me how her magical hoop la loop was going to be twisting around her body.
It mixed elements of a Japanese talk show, Martha Stewart, and a cheerleading competition (high V's and all). She was perched on our coffee table (it doubles as a stage and launching platform for various jumps), in her pajamas and large yellow hoop la loop. I wish I hadn't been the only spectator (that was real).

Baby H

So, we are pregnant. Again. Life has so many surprises, don't you think?
About one week before Aaron and I even knew we were expecting, Bella told me in the car, "Mommy, there is another baby in your tummy." While I tried to explain to her that there is, in fact, no baby in my tummy, she was adamant.
I think I thought she was a prophetess when we finally figured it out. So, it's no wonder that I about had a stroke when she told me two weeks later, "Mommy there are TWO babies in your tummy, and their names are H and May. One is boy baby and one is a girl baby."
I almost held my breath when we looked at the first ultrasound. ONE BABY! Thankfully, we will not be writing the book of Bella just yet.
She is still convinced that the boy baby in my tummy is going to be named "H". We find out boy/girl August 10th. We don't wait around here if we can help it. But if it is a little boy, we may just call him H (and name him something else =).

Welcome!

So, I've officially been peer-pressured. Thanks, by the way. With number 3 on the way, I figure this is the only way I will ever actually tell someone how we're doing without trailing off into la la land or forgetting what I'm saying three times. Or maybe it's the unintelligible, nonsense noises that I've picked up from Rowan that make it hard to speak. Either way, I'm forced to make some sense. Be forewarned, however, that if you come across as;lksdfjieolf;alskdjf while reading my blog, I have either fallen asleep or one of kiddos has started blogging. No apologies. Read at your own risk.