Tuesday, February 24, 2009

2 More Weeks!

We got great news today! Libby gets her helmet off in two weeks! Bring on the hairbows.

Libby doing her best muppet grin

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Conspiracy Theory

Here's mine. The only part of this I haven't figured out is how these two are communicating. Smoke signals? The smoke alarms didn't go off. Plus, I think the kids only use those to contact the neighbor kids. Mental telepathy? Really not part of my belief system. My best guess is that Adam has somehow installed a speaking tube system between his closet and Libby's. He has the mechanical skills, and it would certainly explain all the banging around up there after we put him to bed each night. Anyway, on to the conspiracy...

Setting: Nichols' house, wee hours Friday night/Saturday morning.
Players: Adam and Libby

Adam: Pssst...Libby, you awake?
Libby: Yeah, teething's keeping me up.
A: Want to mess with Mom's and Dad's minds again?
L: You know it. They stayed up late to watch Psych, so this is a good night for it.
A: Yeah, they'll be really tired. (chuckles evilly) All right. What should we do?
L: Well, you could wet the bed and start crying about it.
A: Nah, just did that not too long ago. Let's keep it fresh.
L: We should definitely tag team them.
A: Yep. How 'bout I start crying and "accidentally" wake you up?
L: (whining) Noooo...I want to go first.
A: You are such a baby. Fine. You cry a little, just enough to wake me, and then you pretend to go back to sleep. Just when they think everything's settled, I'll run into Mom and Dad's room and cheerfully yell, "Wake up, sleepyheads!"
L: Yeah, then start crying and make a big deal out of it when they tell you it's still night time. Then I'll pretend you woke me up again and really cry.
A: Be sure you make Mom get up to make you a bottle, but don't actually take it when she offers it to you. That'll make her crazy. As soon as she puts you back to bed, I'll start yelling at the top of my lungs again. (rubbing his hands together gleefully) They might even let me into their bed!
L: (giggling uncontrollably) Oh, oh, and I'm going to say "Mama" and grin and make kissy noises to make Mom feel guilty for being mad about missing sleep.
A: Ready? Let's do this thing.

And so it went.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

It's Official

We can no longer cram Libby into the baby tub! First big-girl bath was tonight.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Monday, February 16, 2009

And The Award Goes To...

Steve Nichols for Husband of the Year!

Seems like the past weeks have been just a series of fires to put out. Thankfully, none of them have been truly major or anything beyond what you'd expect in a household with three small children. But Steve has been tied up with longer hours at work the past two weeks; and it's fallen on Firemom Al to ferry kids to innumerable doctors' appointments, discourage pants-wetting among the already-potty-trained, and encourage a certain reluctant (some might say lazy...I'm just telling it like it is here, baby girl...) piglet of a baby to SIT UP ALREADY!

One event I did have to look forward to was our small group's bi-weekly girls' night out. Great dinner at The Flying Biscuit with fabulous friends! But my sweet, selfless husband, knowing the kind of week it's been around here, additionally suggested that after I took Miss Libby to the doctor's this morning (yes, again -- sinus infection this time) I should leave all the kids with him for the day and go out to lunch all alone. And it was blissful. Salsarita's (I could eat their pico de gallo by the vat), Gone With the Wind, and a table for one. No whining about not liking _________ (name food here), no child pulling a table over on himself, no off-duty first responders coming over to make sure said child has intact sternum and normal pupils. Nothing spilled. No play place. I would never have thought to go out for a meal by myself. I would've called a friend or gotten a sitter so Steve and I could go out. But being alone was just what I needed, and Steve knew it.

So, Steve, for this and a million other reasons, you've just won Husband of the Year.

Friday, February 13, 2009

Has Anyone Seen Adam?

My Spidey Sense tells me he's around here somewhere...

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

It's All Our Fault

Lately our boys have been growing -- like, jumping pants sizes by the week. Andrew seems to be growing out, and Adam is growing up. I thought I'd have until the boys were about 10 before they became taller than I, but now I'm starting to wonder about Adam. He may catch up with me before the year's out if he keeps up at this rate. And then I'll really be in trouble. But that's another post... Anyway, we haven't had what we refer to as "Meatloaf Wars" at our dinner table for quite some time now. And it's been fabulous. Our growing boys have been cleaning plates left and right. There have been a few balky moments here and there (Andrew is traditionally anti-entree, and Adam has yet to meet a vegetable he will look in the eye); but once we coax them into taking the first bite, the all-consuming business of small boys getting bigger takes over to cause these guys to EAT.

So tonight it took us a little off guard when Andrew gobbled his grapes and then put his foot down about eating his roast and green beans. Fine. No after-dinner treat. When Steve and I called Andrew's bluff and took away his plate, we were, of course, met with tears. I believe there was also some wailing and gnashing of teeth. We had to laugh, though, when we told him, "Andrew, you need to eat if you want a treat." His indignant response? "You need to make me something I like." Wow. I guess it's all our fault.

For the record, so far we have had no food issues with Miss Piggy, I mean, Miss Libby.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

We Have Arrived

Well, not quite. But this roll represents another step toward getting there...wherever "there" is. I once heard a comedian say her 30's were her "wiping decade": she spent them wiping noses, counters, and bottoms. And, friends, I am deep in the heart of my wiping decade. So today when Andrew came out of the bathroom and said, "We ran out of toilet paper, Mom, but I took care of it," I cringed inwardly, thinking of the disaster that surely awaited me, and started to go for my rubber gloves and Clorox. More to wipe. So I was surprised and delighted when Andrew continued, "I got another roll out of the cupboard and put it on the holder" and showed me the evidence. It's not that it's that tough a chore. Andrew is certainly capable of helping out in bigger ways...under my direction. It's just delightful that today a child in this house showed me he is old enough to identify a problem and take care of it without assistance.
Tomorrow we will address Andrew's one glaring error: putting the roll on upside down. He gets it from his father.