Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Family Time

The smallest room in the house happens to be the only room in the house with doors that can contain the wild beast we lovingly refer to as Caitlin (when she's not pulling everything out of every cabinet or off of every shelf within her reach), and it also happens to be the room in the house where we've shoved all of the toys. So of course, it's going to be the room we all tend to congregate in when we're looking for a little bit of hassle-free togetherness.
Did I mention it's also my favorite room in the house?

(Ok, fine. My favorite room in the house is the sunroom, because it has comfy chairs, pretty views, and a fireplace. But the playroom is a close second...)

Monday, April 14, 2014

Brigid Says...

Last week, in one of the nightly battles during our ongoing fight to get Brigid to sleep in her own bed, she came into our room around 2AM to tell me that she was scared. When I asked if she needed me to walk her back to her room, she said yes. About halfway down the hall, I realized she wasn't with me anymore. I went back to my room to find that she had waited for me to get out of bed, before climbing into my spot and going back to sleep.
Brigid spends most of her days lately pretending to be Princess Elsa from Frozen, creating imaginary snowstorms and ice skating rinks around the house. She runs from us in mock concern, crying 'Stay away! Don't touch me! I don't want to hurt you!', which is what Elsa says in the movie when she thinks her freezing powers are getting out of control. In the middle of one of these adventures a few days ago, Steve had the audacity to ask Brigid if she thought Elsa tooted icicles, to which Brigid replied with some heavy scorn, 'NO! Because she's a princess, and princesses DON'T TOOT!'
After school one day, Brigid told me, 'Mommy, I really need hot chocolate right now. For my head. My head hurts. So I need hot chocolate. With marshmallows.' Totally sounds legit, right? My argument that her head hurt because she just doesn't sleep through the night, EVER, was judged to be completely incorrect, and hot chocolate won the day.
For St. Patrick's Day, Steve made corned beef and cabbage, and we told Brigid it was chicken, because the only way we can get her to eat ANYTHING is to tell her that it's chicken. She loved it, but she wouldn't stop talking about the 'pink chicken' we'd eaten for dinner. All I could think about was how we were going to get a standing reputation as the salmonella house when she decided to tell her teachers about it the next time she was at school.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Sisterly Love

If you ask Caitlin to give you a hug? There is an almost guaranteed chance that she will look at you like you are speaking the crazy talk, before taking off at full speed in the direction that will get her the furthest distance possible away from you.

If you ask Caitlin to give Brigid a hug? You'd better not be holding that baby too far off of the ground, because she will NOT HESITATE to throw herself out of your arms in her hurry to get to her sister. In fact, there have been MULTIPLE times where I've almost dropped her on her head at preschool drop-off or pick-up, because Brigid has come in to give me a hug, and Caitlin will not allow herself to be left out. If Brigid is handing out hugs, you'd better believe Caitlin wants in on that action.

I think I'm going to frame this series of pictures, along every other picture I manage to take in the future that even slightly indicates that these girls like each other, to hang in their shared bathroom, for the inevitable teenaged blow-outs that I am sure are coming our way. 'See?!?!? You two DID get along at one point in your lives. YOU WILL DO SO AGAIN!'

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Let's even things up some, shall we?

I was told by my mother that it really wasn't fair for me to post so many pictures of Brigid yesterday, without including at least ONE of Miss Caitlin, if only to prove that I wasn't out taking Brigid for a walk while I left Caitlin sleeping alone in the house (I mean, that part wasn't explicitly stated, but I'm sure that's what she was getting at...*), and I realized she was probably right. My poor youngest child is already going to be suffering from birthday party envy as soon as she learns to understand what she's looking at in the various picture books we have lying around here and there, so do I really want her to think I couldn't be bothered taking pictures of her every other day of the year, too?

No. No, I do not.

Oh, that kid. She is so very, very cute. And...so very, very BLONDE.

Seriously. Where in the world did that come from? Why don't either one of my kids look like me in any way, shape, or form? This is so ridiculously unfair.

*I know that's not what my mother was getting at. She just wanted to see pictures of what used to be her youngest granddaughter, but is now her middle granddaughter, as my younger sister just added a THIRD GRANDDAUGHTER to the family. My parents are so excited about spoiling another little girl, and I ABSOLUTELY can't wait to get up to Indiana at the end of April to meet my very first niece. BABY!!!

Tuesday, April 1, 2014


Last week was not such a great week for me. Because of various work activities I had going on for the end of March, I was in the office for 12-13 hours a day, which meant I missed seeing Caitlin completely on two of those days, and I only saw Brigid for a few minutes of cuddling after she had already fallen almost completely asleep.

I hate those weeks.

Yesterday was the first day of Brigid's spring break, and while I was working from home, the three of us took it easy for most of the day, to enjoy spending some time together and to make up for the time we'd missed together the week before. We ate breakfast on the couch. We colored. We watched some television. Brigid helped me make my in-the-car breakfasts for the rest of the week. We stayed in our pajamas until lunchtime, then took Brigid's scooter 'Pasta' out for a ride around the neighborhood.

(Brigid also wanted to walk the dogs while we were out there, but I have enough trouble keeping Brigid and the strollered-up Caitlin under control at the same time, so adding one or two idiot dogs to the mix isn't really a possibility on our solo walks.)

As is generally the case, Brigid's comment that she wanted to 'walk all day' far exceeded her actual walking ability, and she spent the last quarter of our trip sitting down on the sidewalk every few steps, to whine about how she couldn't walk any more and to ask for snacks that I didn't bring along with us (because we were only walking for MAYBE 30 minutes at the most, and who brings snacks on a 30 minute walk, when you've just had lunch less than an hour earlier?), but I'd say we had a pretty good time before we hit that point...

This kid, man. She just really is the best...

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Strike a Pose

Nobody told me that four years old was going to be the age when my child would form her own opinions on what she should be wearing, but...yeah. Apparently, it is, and Brigid's first rule of fashion?

Always wear pink.

Her second rule is there's no such thing as too many pink tulle skirts, as this one was a new purchase this past weekend, and is something like one of four currently living in her closet. Rule number three is accessories MAKE the outfit, and rule four is that it's all in the attitude.


Tuesday, March 18, 2014

And this is how I aged 15 years in two hours...

Last Wednesday evening, Steve thought Caitlin was feeling a little warm, and even though I didn't really feel anything out of the ordinary, we took her temperature. It came in at 100.6, and since the internet told me that 100.4 is considered a fever when you're taking the poor kid's temperature through her bum, I told Steve we shouldn't give her anything for the fever, yet. It was mild, and I'm in the camp that thinks a fever isn't necessarily bad, and you need to let your body do what it needs to do to fight whatever it's fighting.

Well, I was in that camp, anyway.

On Thursday, we left for work before Caitlin woke up, and neither one of us thought to tell Steve's mom that C had been warm the night before, so she maybe needed a little extra attention that day. And since Caitlin was mostly acting fine that day, the thought that she might be sick wasn't even on Karen's radar, at all.

Around 3pm, she thought Caitlin seemed a little groggy, so she took the baby up for her afternoon nap. While Karen was changing C's diaper, she started seizing. Karen called 911 for the paramedics, then my father-in-law to come get Brigid, then Steve to let him know what was happening. At 3:30, Steve was calling me, texting me, emailing me, and knocking on my office door as I was trying to give a year-end review to one of my employees, to tell me that we needed to leave right then, because Caitlin was leaving our house in an ambulance, and he didn't have all of the details, but she was unconscious, and maybe had stopped breathing at one point, and we needed to meet them at the hospital.

I barely held it together until we got into the car, and then I lost it. As I told Steve, I had a complete breakdown when our house sale fell through in November. Not panicking while my baby was on the way to the hospital in an ambulance was not an option for me.

We beat the ambulance to the children's hospital by about 20 minutes, because we were closer coming from work than they were in coming from the house, and they weren't treating it as an emergency run, because they thought Caitlin was mostly ok, so they weren't using the lights/sirens. While we were waiting, the EMT called me for some health history on Caitlin, and he was able to tell me that she was responding well, and they thought the fever was just a febrile seizure, meaning her temperature spiked too quickly for her body to handle, but there wouldn't be any last damage from it.

My mother-in-law had ridden in the ambulance with Caitlin, and at the hospital, she had to recount her story at least four times for various nurses and doctors. She also had to explain how Caitlin had managed to get her leg caught in the coffee table while Steve and I were out of town last weekend, leaving an impressive bruise on her poor little thigh, because she had twisted herself in there nice and tight.

In the end, they all agreed that it was a febrile seizure, and we needed to alternate her on Tylenol and Motrin every three hours to keep her fever (probably caused by the same virus that had Brigid up and vomiting at 3:30 Friday morning, but that's another story...) down, and we took Baby Caitlin home to eat all of the popsicles.
You'd better believe that kid is getting medicated at the slightest hint of a fever from now on, because this is dangerous or not, this is not something I ever want to have to experience again.

Poor baby...