www.quietsoldseparately.blogspot.com

A dear, sweet friend recently started a new blog. A blog for moms, by moms. A place for moms to come for a simple answer to the every day questions we encounter. Like the little ones we raise, this blog is beginning in infancy. It needs readers. It needs comments. It needs questions. Swing on over. I promise laughs. I promise good ideas. I promise a plethora of ah-ha's. I had a few just today. One of the first questions she chose to tackle was about pacifiers, to use or not to use. The following is a sneak peak of one of the comments posted by yours truly...

Once we were home (from the hospital), she cried 21 hours each day, hours calculated on a non-magical, no-extra-hours-added-to-a-day, non wish-granting clock. Life could not continue like this. I made it, she made it, my beloved husband who had no idea what the heck to do made it to Day 5. On this day, while unpacking from the hospital, a tiny rubber and plastic composition of pink, blue, and yellow fell to the bed. It was a God send, an answered prayer, a shining mirror ball hanging from my ceiling sparking rays of light as a chorus sang. I can still remember the secluded discussion my husband and I had behind the closed doors of our bedroom during the few moments that followed. "Should we let her have it?"..."we said we never would."..."Jenn, something's got to give." More like someone or, more accurately, two someones because this was a decision I refused to make on my own. So with heavy hearts and an increasing amount of self doubt (it was that big of a deal) we decided to give a child, one of OUR children, a pacifier. Honestly, at that point, the binkie was the alternative to a small room with padded walls and a nurse named Barb that dispensed medication according to her own clock. It was what came next that was harder than the decision itself. We had to announce the decision to the crowded rooms of family on the other side of our door. After all, no matter how much I love and adore my husband, I couldn't (he probably could...well, maybe he couldn't) stay in our bedroom forever. Mark's solution to my dreaded judgment was very matter of fact. "Jenn, just give her the thing and walk out. If anyone says anything, simply offer them to live in our shoes for the next 24 hours and see how long they last. We lasted 5 days and it was far from how I imagined Heaven." So in a nutshell, he was saying the last 3 days at home with a screaming, crying newborn have mirrored his assumption of Hell juxtaposed with 7 weary days and an equal amount of sleepless nights (remember my labor was long) if confronted, my often quiet and well-mannered husband would have told the offenders where they could have stuck a binkie of their own. We walked out of our room, Jillian held in our arms, the binkie displayed between her lips...

What happened on the either side of the door? Check out Quiet Sold Separately to find out the answer to this and how to get a picky eater to expand his pallet and is it okay to lie to your husband by omission and many more topics as they arise.

Jillian's Christmas Program

Jillian's pre-school Christmas production, and boy was it ever a production. I. Tell. Ya! The teachers worked so feverishly planning and practicing and toiling and practicing some more. Lets just say their efforts paid off BIG time. The night was outstanding! Before you play the videos scroll down to the bottom of your screen and pause the music.

Happy Halloween!

Though, it really, truly isn't Halloween (that is tomorrow) Trick-or-Treat in Grandma and Grandpa's village was tonight. So, we joined Josh and Alyssa in some good ole Halloween candy collecting. And, boy oh boy, did we have a blast.Brendan has been planning his costume since November 1, 2007. I was actually surprised at just how many hippies were out in our neighborhood this year. Jillian wanted to be a Star Wars family, but couldn't convince Brendan to give up his year-in-the-making hippie attire, so she settled for Cinderella. Not that Cinderella is that bad of a consolation costume. Karigan fell in love with Daisy. She laughed, she cackled, she loved, and she hugged that costume so we knew that was the one for her. That is, until we discovered the bill actually quacked. That kind of freaked her out. Okay, it really freaked her out. So no quacking! After we collected our loot, we headed back to Grandma and Grandpa's for our Halloween tradition: pizza, subs, and veggies from JR's. yumyumyum!

Kid at Heart

The rest of the day was spent hanging out in the backyard, playing around, and soaking up the sunshine. The main attraction was the buoy ball on the play set. I don't blame her for trying it out. It is my favorite, too! Thankfully, no one has taken pictures of me.

Bailey the Pilot!

This was Bailey's first time to fly. The pilot let Bailey sit in his chair (I guess the airlines do not pass out plastic wings anymore.) As a SUprise, belated birthday present, we enlarged this bottom photograph in black and white. It arrived in the mail the day after they got home.

Pee-Jay-Par-Tay

Jillian's "Pretend Sleepover" was today, and our house was busting at the seams with girls, girls, girls. We. Had. A. Blast. This party was very last minute - only about 8 days to plan, buy, make, decorate, etc. Our local Papa Murphy's had large take-n-bake pizzas on sale for $3.99, and I thought "oh, two pizzas will definitely be enough." Boy, was I ever wrong. Eight girls cleaned out 2 pizzas in minutes. Minutes I tell ya. After dinner, we made soccer hair bands (some girls have them on in the pictures), danced to Jillian's favorite songs, played "would you rather," opened presents, ate cake and ice cream, played with the presents, then had a few "bedtime stories" before the girls were picked up by their parents. Each girl left with a diary, a satin eye mask with lash detail, and a pajama party soundtrack of Jillian's favorite music with a little thank you note written on the disc. The party was a big, HUGE success. Jillian was on top of the world, and all of the girls were terrific, simply delightful.

Rock On!

~~~ Brendan decided he wants to be in a band. Leave a comment with potential rocker names. The winner gets a copy of his first demo. ~~~

Brendan the Thrill-Seeker

Attempted his first "big boy ride" with no hands

80s Housewife

You Belong in 1980

Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day.

What Year Do You Belong In?

Rub-a-Dub-Dub-K-Dub-in-the-Tub

They say a picture is worth a thousand words - How about two letters.

Dr. Insecta

A very dear friend of ours is a wonderful, fabulous, stupendous, eclectic, genius, hilarious, AMAZING magician. He is

THE AMAZING MAXWELL.

As part of his portfolio, he is working with local libraries as Dr. Insecta to help kids "catch the reading bug." So we thought we would check him out at our local library. What a show! A little magic, a few bugs, a lot of fun, and then one lucky kid got to turn into "Insecta Kid." Lucky. Brendan! Yes, that is a giant, hairy tarantula holding my son up by his belly. AHHH!

Somebody Bail Me Out!

Since we put the baby gate up, Brendan and Jillian have been playing "Jail".

By the looks of this picture, I don't want to know what she is in for...

Garage Sale Gem

Our 17 year old neighbor had a fantastic garage sale today. Every girls dream - pretty dresses, princess hats, shiny jewelry - everything imaginable. Including the most splendid make-up case complete with eye shadow and liner, lip gloss and liner, and blush. Now, Jillian is convinced she is the next Bobbi Brown, and who else better to practice on than Mommy. Unfortunately, as seen in the blurred images below, she may not be the next Annie Leibovitz.

It's Bath Time

Tonight, I told Karigan it was time for her bath. Before I knew it, she was up the stairs. A first might I add. She made it all the way to the first landing by herself. - Guess it is time for that baby gate that has been sitting in the mudroom for, oh about, 6 months to finally be installed.

Wanna Sleep Over?

Jillian had her first sleepover last night, and the girls had so much fun. The night before Jillian and I planned the events. She wanted a nail polishing, bracelet making, quesadilla eating, chiminea lighting, marshmallow roasting, boy teasing, movie watching, popcorn munching, pillow fighting night of magic. And boy was it ever. Ellie earned the "ice cream cone" prize for staying up the latest. No, we did not tell them there would be a prize for the night owl of the group -- She came downstairs at 11:30 while Mark was making himself a bowl of ice cream. She batted her eyes a few times and Mark's heart melted - thankfully the ice cream did not. I made her a bed on the sofa, snuggled her in, and then she crashed (hopefully not from the sugar overload.) This morning came early, and since the sleepover was just scheduled on Monday, everyone had places to be today. Ellie did not want to leave, and Jillian did not want her to go. I see the next Anne and Diana (...of Green Gables, that is.) Such sweet, kindred spirits - these girls are!

Brendan's Twin: Found at the Zoo

The kids found an old bag of hairspray paint in the basement last week. Since then, each day brings a new style, color, etc. Brendan opted for a fauxhawk and day glow orange for our trip to the zoo Thursday. Upon passing this caution cone, I couldn't resist the photo op.

Croc Crazed

This weekend is Mark's member/guest tournament and by far the busiest week for him and his staff out of the entire year. Normally, it consists of four 20 hour days followed by 20 hours of sleep in one day just to catch up. The kids and I typically head back to OK for the week, but the thought of me and 3 children in the car for 14 plus hours broods anxiety from my toes up. So - we opted to stay home. Good thing because Mark had a minor shoe emergency. Who knew boys could have shoe emergencies? But I guess being at work, standing on your feet, aching in your heels, throbbing in your legs, shooting up your back, tensing in your shoulders, complaining in your thoughts constitutes an emergency - AS IT SHOULD! So the hunt for the most comfortable, safest in the kitchen, snazziest shoes began. Mark already had an idea of what he wanted, it was up to me to bring it to fruition. One of the line cooks had recently began sporting a pair of Froggz (croc knockoffs, I guess) and had been raving about every imaginable, fantastical thing about them ever since. I started by looking online - remembering that I needed something today, not in 3-5 business days. Things would have been a lot easier if I could have just had them shipped, but as my grandpa used to say, "nothing worth having is ever easy." We opted for the Bistro by crocs. It is specifically designed for the food service industry and is endorsed by Mario Batali. The problem: finding a pair within a 50 mile radius. I called 20-25 different retailers in the Columbus area. Nothing. The only thing comparable was the Professional series by crocs. And luckily a sporting goods store just received a new shipment and had several pairs in Mark's size. The kids and I load up--45 miles and 1 hour later we arrive at the store only to discover there weren't any available in Mark's size. Supposedly, they had already sold out. So on to the nearby mall. We checked out Journey's first, even though when I called I was told they didn't have any in stock. Lo and behold, I could see a pair of bistros from the door. Five minutes later we were on our way to Mark with shoes in tow, that is, until we were side tracked by a Crocs kiosk. We each picked out our favorite pair.

Can you match the shoe to the person in our family?

Then find a pair for yourself here.

Rain, Rain Go Away!

A neighboring village has a large Fourth of July celebration every year that begins with a kiddie parade at 10 AM and then ends with fireworks at 10 PM with a little bit of everything for everyone in between. The main parade started at 1:30 PM, and the rain started at noon. We stayed anyway, and with umbrellas turned upside down, collected as much candy as we could.

World Series Champions, Maybe Next Year

Well, Brendans team's run for the Little League Championship has come to an end, and I was at a motherhood crossroad. You know, the pivotal intersection of decision. On one hand I can act like a sore loser and rant about the politics of little league baseball, on the other I can choose to advocate for my son, his team and stand up for what is just and fair. Or, as I have chosen, neither because sometimes things happen, and no matter how loudly you scream, it will be as it is - as it was.

Rewind -- Since the Midwest has been pummeled with torrential downpours on a daily basis this last week, all the teams knew that our schedules had to be flexible, that rain would fall, fields would be wet, and that games would be postponed. Our first playoff game was scheduled for Saturday. We are up 6-0, bottom of the 3rd. The winds pick up, a few drops begin to fall, then each drop within every cloud above simultaneously falls to the ground. In the confusion, the opposing team scores 4 runs. The field is too wet to continue any time today, so we are postponed until Sunday. The boys assume they will continue where they left off and are disappointed Sunday to learn that the game has to begin again. Melancholy and sadness consume all efforts to play and 7 runs are scored by the opposing team the first inning. A big pep talk by the coach and finally some finesse is seen by the 3rd inning. And the drops. start. to. fall. First 1, then 2, then a repeat of the previous game's rain out. Only this time the game is called, not postponed, not rescheduled. Called! I will spare this post from the diatribe that is running through my thoughts and will not place judgement on the events being linked to the commissioner being the coach of the other team or the ump his nephew. I will only continue to exclaim to Brendan that "you win some, you lose some, but the important thing is you keep playing like you will win them all."

So we went home, threw our clothes in on the spin cycle, and went for pizza. Later, we topped the night off with our own backyard baseball game, in which Jillian sent a ball into the neighbors yard, Brendan lost two balls to the sewer, Mark let the kids win, and I made a stealthy slide into second. Mark thought I fell, and came swooping in to save me. Teach him to doubt my athleticism, though the "damsel in distress" wasn't so far fetched either.

The Apple Fell and It Is Near.

I am not sure if geneticist have isolated a tantrum gene, but I am positive one exists. I should preface this story with the little known fact that during my childhood I, yes me, was a professional fit thrower - a tantrum connoisseur, if you will (some may argue that I still manage to pull one out for old times sake at least once or twice a month, however, I stand in dispute of that argument.) I remember clearly the first time Jillian dramatically tossed her stiffened torso and flailing limbs to the floor. Shock and Awe, I tell ya, Shock and Awe! I had no other choice but to throw myself down on the floor beside her and laugh. That is, after I grabbed the phone to call my mom and profess my apologies for being so ridiculous in the midst of my past hysteria. So, Jillian was the first of the three to inherit the gene. Please keep in mind that this insatiable desire to wail and scream in a state of excited anger in order to receive what one wants had to be genetically predispositioned. The reason: As a mother, I became aware that children imitate what they see and I was determined that none of my children would ever witness another child throw a tantrum, therefore avoiding the inevitable mimic. The result: Jillian, at the tender age of 19 months, had never (to my knowledge) witnessed another child act out emotions in this way, and yet, still busted out a full-fledged tantrum. Conclusion: The overwhelming desire to express her emotions in this unacceptable fashion is definitely in her genes.

For further evidence concluding this hypothesis, I submit the following video. Jillian's younger sister Karigan at the age of 12 months shortly after Mommy told her "No, you can not have any more Cheerios before dinner." Thereby, supporting and reinforcing, the cliche - the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

She only stopped because she saw Mommy with the camcorder.