The Burp Rag Chronicles

Never So Alive

Sydney said two things yesterday that had me rolling with laughter.

First, after we came home from gymnastics, it was a lovely day.  A little chilly, but plenty nice enough to go out and play.  So I took Cameron and put her in her baby swing and Sydney swung on the long double swing thingy beside us.  She's learned how to pump and get herself going really high - which is great for me since I don't need to push her anymore.

So I'm swinging Cameron and Syd's swinging high to the sky when she yells, "DAAAAD!  I'VE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE!!!"

Man, I about died.  I tried to get her to say it again on video, but it always sounded forced.

Then later that night after changing Cameron's diaper, the two girls and I were still in Cam's room when I said that Cameron was "a smart cookie."

Sydney replied, in that semi-patient, condescending tone that her future husband will grow to loathe, "Dad, she's not a cookie!  If Cameron was a cookie, she would eat her own self and then you'd only have ONE kid!!"

I don't know from whence the child's wellspring of creativity flows, but I sincerely hope she's able to leverage it in her career path.

The Art of War

"The general who wins the battle makes many calculations in his temple before the battle is fought. The general who loses makes but few calculations beforehand."

- Sun Tzu, "The Art of War"

I knew this day was coming, therefore I was prepared for it. I did not expect it to come this early; nevertheless, I was not caught unawares.

The first shot in the battle of wills was a fountain of tears from a little girl's bedroom.

"Would you go in there and tell her to stop that?" my wife said, indicating the agonized wailing filling the house.

We're just minutes home from H-E-B, the local supermarket chain, with our weekly consumer foraging.  On the trip home, both children had fallen asleep.  Mommy had taken supertiny to her room for a nap, which was well underway. Big Tiny - a.k.a. Biggie Smalls - a.k.a. Sydney - was also in need of a "rest", since she would be going to church with Grandma later.

This did not sit well with Stubborn McBullhead. 

I go into her room and rationally explain to her that she needs the rest so she doesn't fall asleep at church, that she doesn't have to sleep, she just needs to rest and stay in her room. None of this pleases her, but it stops the wailing and derails any further meltdown.  I leave the room, telling myself (but not her) that as soon as we're done sorting the groceries away, she can come out.

With the food mostly parceled and placed, I go in to retrieve the small one.  I am greeted with an ugly face and an absolutely abhorrent attitude.

"I'm just going to run away from home and not live here anymore."

Oh yes she did.

It was maybe a month or so ago that I'd been having the discussion with someone about this.  The consensus was that the most successful strategy for dealing with a threat of this magnitude was to call the bluff.  That's what my mom did.  That's what Lynn's mom did.  That's what all the other parents with which I had conversed had done, and had experienced themselves.

And thus it had come to pass in our home.

"How come?" I asked.

"Because I'm not going to be your friend anymore."

"Okay, then," I said.  "Would you like me to help you pack?"

There was a moment's hesitation - just the briefest flash - before she consented. 

After that moment, everything started happening so fast, I can only remember feelings and impressions.  I retrieved her backpack from the front entryway and informed her mother of the situation.  With a big smile on my face.  I went back in to her room, where she remained obstinately on the bed. 

I asked her if she would like me to pack her some panties?  She did.
Socks?  Yes.  Pants, shirts? Yes, yes.

While this is all happening, I'm maintaining a very somber, disappointed countenance, but am completely committed to my charade.  She, on the other hand, is starting to show signs of second thoughts.  She breaks down in wracking sobs, "I'm really gonna miss you guys!"

"We're going to miss you too!"

But she still insists that

1. She's not going to live here anymore.
2. It's because I'm not going to be her friend anymore, which is because:
   1. She's not going to live here anymore, because
   2. I'm not going to be her friend anymore

Extrapolate that, you get a nice big circle, of course; hey, we're dealing with a four year old. 

I hand her her backpack, and we walk to the hallway.  I get my shoes on and tell her I'll walk her out.  She's not sobbing anymore, but is still crying pretty hard.  She says goodbye to Mommy, who is putting on one hell of an act.  Mommy says she'll miss her, and goodbye.

We go outside and walk down to the sidewalk in front of our house.  She's still crying.  I ask for a kiss goodbye, which I get.  And a hug. 

I ask where she's going.  Her first thought is her friend Skylar's house, but then she decides her main objective is Grandma Sandy's house in Oklahoma.  It's pretty far, but I point her in the direction - roughly north up the sidewalk. She wants to take her scooter, but I tell her she can't - if she's not going to be here anymore, the scooter will be for Cameron.

Eventually, off she goes.  I think this image will be burned into my head forever.  Her tiny body in her new blue-and-brown dress, with her oversized Dora backpack, striding purposefully down the street, pausing every 30 feet to see if I'm following.  I'm not.  Every time she looks back I just wave. 

She makes it about three quarters of the way to the end of the street before she stops and turns around.

"DAD! COME WITH ME!" she yells.

"NO! I LIVE HERE!" I shout back.

"BUT IF YOU DON'T COME WITH ME I'LL BE LONELY!"

We shout back and forth more of the same for awhile, but eventually I wave her back.  She runs - full throttle - back to the house.  So fast I worry she's going to trip and fall and the whole exercise will be derailed by injury. 

But she makes it back, where she continues trying to get me to come with her because she'll be lonely if I don't come.  I say I'm sorry, but this is where I live and I'm not running away.  I ask her where she's going to eat and sleep.  She's not sure.  But eventually I tell her that if she's going to get to Grandma Sandy's she better start now or it'll get too dark (hey, eventually she'll get it, but for now the parameters of the exercise are determined by the bounds of her knowledge and experience.)

I think she got a little more frustrated this time, event though she insisted she was going to miss us so much; when she left, she ran up the street.  She stopped again, though, like she'd hit some kind of psychic forcefield, in the same place. 

"COME ON, DAD, COME WITH ME!" she shouts.

This time, I pull out the big guns:  I wave back at her, turn, and walk back towards the house.  The message is clear - this isn't a game.  I'm not following.  I'm going on with my life without her.

In reality, as soon as I'm behind the Escape, I duck down and try to watch her through the windows. What I hear is an anguished scream - like when you turn the life sucking machine up to 50 - mixed with the sound of small shoes running back towards me.

"DAD! NO! DAD!" As soon as I feel like she might be able to spot me, I bend over and pick up a rock, then toss it in the hole where the bouganvilla used to be.  As she approaches, I turn and look back as if surprised to see her. 

About that time, the garage door opens and Mommy comes out, ready to plant our new climbing roses in place of the old thorny bouganvilla.  This time Syd wants to take her bike, but no, we're giving that to Cameron, too.

We go around and around about how much we'll miss her and how sorry we are that she feels that she has to go, but that she should probably get a move on, until the words we were waiting for:

"I'm not gonna run away anymore, guys..."

At that point, the love opens up, we're all smiles and celebration.  I ask her if she wants to go unpack her bag.  She breaks down sobbing, but nods.

We go into her room and I just hold her and rock while she cries, but I tell her how happy we are that she's staying.  Eventually she gets all the cries out, and we unpack her backpack and come back out to join Mommy.  The new rosebush is in and Mommy goes to get a bucket of water for it.  "Can I watch you water it, Mommy?"

"Of course!"

"Okay, but don't get any water on my new pretty dress!"

Afterward, Sydney and I start to trim out the plumbago - the original intent is to yank it all out, roots and all. We thought it was dead! Turns out there's new stuff growing just under the surface.  So I cut and the two of us start stuffing the old dead stuff into a trash can.

And what a change. This girl is 100% sweetness and light.  She cycles phrases like a pull-string toy from the 50's.

"I really love you guys!"  "I'm so glad I'm going to stay here!"  "I would have missed you guys so much if I left!"  "I really love helping you, Daddy!"  "This is so much fun!" 

Seriously, I was turning diabetic from all the sweetness.

But it all worked out in the end.  The rest of the evening went much better, she was good at church for Grandma, and now she knows to be careful what she wishes for.

Because she just might get it!

Happy Birthday, Baby C!

Maybe I should make that Toddler C? Where is that line drawn? She isn't quite walking yet, but she is over a year old. Hmmm.

So yes, my baby turned one year old on the 10th! My goodness, where does that time go? Feels like yesterday I was sitting on that exercise ball willing her to get a move on because my hips felt like a sack of Legos and I was tired of sleeping on my side.

Not one to throw a party unless I absolutely have to, we had a small get-together (that words seems way less daunting!) with just family. My parents, J-Rod, me and Syd all gathered around for lasagna dinner and cake madness.

Let me insert here that C was not really feeling up to snuff. The poor girl had been snotty, eye goobery, pink faced, and just generally lethargic and irritable. I had chalked it up to her getting shots two days before and wasn't overly concerned. But by the end of the night, this is the baby we had. She was a great sport, but you could tell she was just not feeling it. She didn't even really get all that cakey, like a one-year-old is supposed to.

Then again, maybe she is just the oddball of the family and actually *is* dainty?

Check out the photos and don't poke fun o' mah babeh. :(

We took her to the doctor the next day after my class and she ended up having pinkeye, a raging double ear infection, and snot nose. She was a leaky mess of a baby. But we got her on antibiotics and an ointment for her eyes. Cleared up pretty fast after that and she's been really chipper since then. Yay for medicine!

* * * * *

School... let's just say it's been keeping me rather busy along with the girls. I have taken three classes, though my anatomy classes are "off" so it feels like four. Thank goodness I did not also try to tackle English II, like I had originally intended. Lab and Lecture are taught by two different teachers - on different days. Lab is basically a teacher telling and showing us the bones, the different parts, orientation of them in the body, general purpose, etc. Lecture is... well, lecture. Chemistry of things, specific purpose, discussion, etc.

Algebra is annoying me. I am continually making a mess of things by doing some stupid calculation error (for some reason, they insist that 4+2 does not equal 7! Who knew??) or mixing up a + or - sign. I received a not-so-great grade on my online test, luckily it got bumped to a high C after I got credit for my homework. I have another test due this Monday evening that I am praying I do better on.

Physics - the class I was dreading the most - is actually the one I am doing the best in. I was terrible in it in high school (I ended up dropping it and taking a free period, I think) but rocked out at Chemistry. I got a 99% in Chemistry so the teacher figured I'd be awesome at Physics and put me in Physics Honors. NO, THANKS. So, naturally, I was dreading the college version.

Luckily, it's just lecture and no lab. Maybe because it's visual and math isn't, I am doing way better at it. The teacher is awesome, too - he's doing a very good job at keeping it easy to understand. Math is so abstract and, to me, doesn't feel like it has "real world" value. I can calculate the gravitational pull on an object dropped from 13 meters. But 4x²+2x+48=y means nothing to me. I hate polynomials.

So, that's that. I'm not ignoring you, dear blog. Just busy as all get out.

Hopefully I'll be back before the end of the year to keep you all aprised of what is going on in our little house. ;-)

Exactly

Mommy captured a great expression today. :)

Bored

I am not entirely sure what I did with all my time before children. I was busy, sure. But I distinctly remember being "bored" at times.

Most of my free time nowadays is spent doing homework or chores/errands. I haven't had time to watch my soap opera or TV of any sort, really. I have three tests next week starting on Sunday (well, it's due by Sunday midnight since it's an online test - I will probably tackle it tonight to get it out of my hair!) so I have been working diligently on those reviews. The main one sucking up my time is Algebra. But I have finished the review for that and after I take my test tonight I can chill on that a bit.

Tuesday I have Anatomy & Physiology Lab test, and then Friday Anatomy & Physiology Lecture test. I am pretty sure that eventually A&P will go hand-in-hand but right now they are not on the same subject matter and it just feels like Lab is an extra course we don't get credit for. So, like in Lecture, we are learning about the chemistry inside the body. In Lab, we're studying cell anatomy. Yeah, not really the same thing at all.

So, lately I stay up until about midnight (burning the proverbial midnight oil...) and get about 5-7 hours of sleep. Last night I got about 5 so I am kind of testy today.

On the bright side we got out tax refund, so I am thinking of getting a second Stokke seat for Cameron. The rest is going to credit cards.

Speaking of credit - normally we get a credit report done about yearly, just to make sure things are up to snuff. Well, mine had a collection on it! From the water company we had in California. But not the most recent one, the one we had when we moved out of the condo after selling it.

So, apparently despite forwarding addresses, calling to cut off service, restart service at a new location... they couldn't figure out the new address we were at to send a final bill. Well, of course in the hustle and bustle of moving I wasn't keeping the greatest of records of what I got, paid, filed, etc.

So I check my report and there has been a collection on me since - get this - DECEMBER 2007. We moved out of the condo in November 2006. We didn't even leave California until December 2007. So I call the water company to get the information for the collection agency. I call them up, explain the situation, where she tells me that they don't normally "go after" you if the amount is under $100.

Well how the heck was I supposed to know there was anything past due without any sort of contact? I have gotten things forwarded from the post office in California so I *know* it worked okay.

So, fine. I ask her how much I owe them to get the thing taken care of and taken off my report.

Seventy-four dollar. Seventy-four dollars was all that was past due. I told the woman that was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard of, especially considering every one of our monthly bills was paid on time and in full. She agreed, we laughed about it, and she told me that she has seen a collection account for the amount of $4.93. But over time, compounding interest, and all that it had gone up to a whopping $19-something.

Now that that is taken care of (and after much, much seething) that is all fine and dandy. Takes about a month for it to come off the report with no ill effects. I ended up owing them a bit under $100 after fees and what not (grumblecakes!!) but whatever.

Anyway, the REASON I was checking my credit report is that we are (slowly!) paying credit cards off and I wanted to see where we were at according to the report.

So that goes to show you that you should check your own credit report yearly! Go do it now! :)

Now, the Facebook thing. Apparently some shady characters were trying to get into my account so they put it on lockdown. Then later I tried to log into Google to check my calendar and they told me there had been suspicious activity and that I should change my password. So... I did. And all my other passwords, as well. I can't imagine what I have that anyone wants, but whatever. :P

What a Week

This has been quite the week - my account being disabled by Facebook was just the start. I still don't know what I did or if I can get my account back or not. I miss it, I feel so out of the loop. :( Dang it, Facebook - get to my email and help me understand! Give me back my darn account! *scowls*

And now Spud is sick. With what, I don't know - last Friday she threw up, but then everything was fine. Then Tuesday she came home from school and took a nap which is VERY unlike her. When she got up, her temperature was 103! We've been able to successfully manage it with Tylenol and Motrin, but it'll go down for a while and after the medicine wears off, it's back up. She's acting fine, so I think it's just a wait-and-see.

But no one likes to see their baby sick. :(

So we've been laying low, yesterday we only went out briefly to get some more medicine for Spud and a quick drive-thru stop at Burger King for a special treat lunch. Which brings me to my next point: Spud cracks me RIGHT up.

We discuss the entire way what she wants from Burger King, chicken or cheeseburger. This is the same conversation we have every time we go to any sort of fast-food place. Today, she declared that she wanted sweet little Krabby Patties, and that ketchup AND mustard were okay because mustard is her favorite.

This is an out and out lie.

I keep trying her with mustard, because I suspect that, like ketchup, she will eventually like it. It's got a heavy vinegar base so... come on! What kid doesn't take a little coaxing with ketchup, then begin to put it on everything under the sun?

So I order her the Burger Shots (yep, that is what a "sweet little Krabby Patty" is!) with no special instructions, and we head home. Apparently they come with ketchup, mustard, AND pickles. I know she will freak out at the pickles, so those come off. Here goes, two little cheeseburgers head her way.

Hey! She's eating it! And enjoying it! I dice up some pears and give them to her as a side... chomp chomp chomp! Wheeee! Is this the turning point? Has my daughter made the final transformation into her father and has made mustard her new love?

Then, after all but about two kid-sized bites she declares to me, "Mommy, I decided that I do not like mustard. Can you take it off? It's too sour."

I laughed and told her to eat her pears.

So Miss Cameron is standing on her own for brief intervals! Most of the time she does it when she is distracted by something with her hands (a toy, the TV, her sister), but she is on her way, people!

Shudder.

Banned?

I've been banned from Facebook for some reason - I emailed them to see why, what happened, etc. I've read that it could be someone reported me, could be that I made too many posts in a certain time frame, things like that, so who knows?

I'll probably get a ton of my homework done now! ;-)

So, stay tuned for updates. Trust me, I'm not ignoring everyone on Facebook. ;-)

The Italian One

This baby really, really likes those Gerber pasta pick-ups. I diced them up after heating, and she went to TOWN!