Category Archives: Jenny

04.14.08
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Balmy weather

Today’s high temperature was in the lower 50s. Depending on the wind or sun conditions at any given moment, my kids varied their dress from a t-shirt to a winter coat. Jenny, mainly favoring a winter coat, even came in at one point for mittens. I had to help her put them on. Later, she came through on some errand which required her to remove her mittens, so I had to help her put them on again. She stopped to chat.

“It’s very warm outside, Mommy.”

“Is that why you’re wearing gloves?”

“Well, my hands are cold!”

“Mmmm.”

“But the rest of me’s not cold. {pause} In the sun, it’s maybe even…hot.”

“Mmmm.” I’m wondering where this is going.

“Mommy, do you think we could get out the kiddie pool?”

“Uh, NO.”

I know, I know. I’m such a party pooper.

10.30.07
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Poor Jenny

Jenny: Mommy, can I hold Mary?

Me: I’m sorry, honey, she’s crying. I need to nurse her.

…later…

Jenny: Mommy, can I hold Mary?

Me: I’m sorry, honey, I’m still nursing her.

…later…

Jenny: Mommy, can I hold Mary?

Me: I’m sorry, honey, she’s really happy here on my lap.

At that point I realized that the answer was just simply NO. And perhaps it shouldn’t be. Even if those brief moments of contentment are cut short by the unpleasantness of being held by a Not The Momma.

10.03.07
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What kind of a mother…???

Jenny still requires assistance with wiping after going to the bathroom. That’s fine. I don’t mind.

But she doesn’t announce her intentions of using the bathroom before doing so. Thus I often find myself becoming vaguely aware of a little voice coming from a different part of the house calling for me to help her. And there are times I’m sure that voice has been calling for more than a few minutes before I recognized it for what it is. I always feel a little bad that she’s been left to sit there for some time feeling abandoned. The worst is when I’ve been outside and I just happen to go in for something and I hear her. I wonder what would happen if I hadn’t gone in for whatever reason.

Now I know.

On one trip through the house, I saw that the downstairs bathroom door was closed, but didn’t think much of it. I have a toddler who enjoys opening closed doors and closing open doors. Everybody was outside playing on our swings, jumping in the neighbor’s trampoline, engaging in a mock court martial (military kids – go figure). Everybody except Jenny. She had been there, but at some point had gone inside and hadn’t come back out. I didn’t notice her absence for at least a half hour. Bill was reading a book for school, and I was actually enjoying a newspaper while the chicken was baking in the oven.

Eventually, though, it was time to go in and Bill began to police up our kids. That’s when I realized I hadn’t seen Jenny for a while. I recalled that she had been a little cranky that afternoon – a sure sign of tiredness – and I was in the process of sending Katie upstairs to see if she had fallen asleep when I saw that closed bathroom door again. Sure enough, she was in there waiting for help.

And sure enough, she was tired and had fallen asleep. On the toilet.

The girl’s got a great sense of balance. I suppose it helps make up for an inattentive mother.

09.20.07
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Four Years Ago Today

Happy birthday to you.

You live in a zoo.

You look like a beauty.

And you smile like one too.

The kids have all been singing a different version. Bill told them that the lyrics were so old that he sang them when he was a kid. I suggested that Grandpa sang them when HE was a kid.

Jenny asked whose birthday was next. “The new baby’s,” I answered. The kids practiced a stanza of their happy birthday song intimating that they would sing it to the new baby next month. “Would it be nice to call the new baby a monkey?” I asked. “But what if it DOES look like a monkey?” asked Fritz. And when I think of my wrinkly newborns who take a few weeks to plump up, it just might be that they do look a bit like a monkey. But we aren’t going to tell them that.
09.02.07
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Time marches on

Except for my husband and my daughter, Katie, everyone has a different birth month. It’s great. I love spreading the celebratory cheer throughout the year. But, naturally, this inspires some of my children to think ahead to their own birthdays and ask for things that they would like. My usual response is always a request that we discuss the matter in the appropriate month for them. It’s a habitual question asked without thinking.

On the way to church today, Jenny was asking for some product she had seen advertised on TV that she isn’t likely to get. Out came my knee-jerk retort:

“How about we talk about this in Septem—, oh. Arrrrgh!”

08.17.07
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What’s one more load of laundry anyway?

Although she was doing well before our move, since we’ve been here, it has been necessary to scoop sleeping Jenny out of bed and take her for another trip to the bathroom before we go to bed to prevent accidents. Even then, there are some nights where this still doesn’t work. Wednesday night was one, and so I had an additional load of laundry to do yesterday.

By the late afternoon, I had freshly laundered her sheets, her comforter and even the mattress pad and replaced them on her bed. She helped by neatly and ceremoniously placing her various stuffed animals, My Little Ponies, and throw pillows in their proper and exact spots around the perimeter of her sleeping area.

After dinner, Pete was walking around half naked, as usual. He usually does really well with making it to the potty when he’s naked. I sent the girls upstairs to put their jammies on, and he went up too. I usually do him later, but I guess he wanted to get ready for bed, too. Katie helped him change into his night clothes – everything except a diaper. And that’s fine. He came downstairs for stories, and she told me he needed a diaper, but I knew he could wait a bit. He is only about 50% successful at remembering the potty when he has clothing on, but since we were in the living room, not doing much, and the potty is right there (gotta love potty training decorating techniques…Good Housekeeping should do a spread on ideas for incorporating kid potties in your living spaces, perhaps someone could invent an under-the-kitchen-counter pull out shelf that drops down with a stable platform to fit most designs), I thought he’d be fine. And he was…during story time.

OK, you have to see the the impending train wreck, right?

After prayers, the girls and Pete are sent upstairs to brush teeth. I linger for a few minutes to chat with Bill. By the time I get up there, my good children have in fact brushed their teeth, but Pete is standing there uncomfortably wet. Of all the places in the world, he climbed up on Jenny’s bed and had an accident.

{big sigh}

06.14.07
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Quiet time – not

It’s not yet 6 am, and Jenny is awake. Of course, she wants attention, too, but this time is my time. I get up early so I can have coffee, pray, exercise (well, probably not this morning on that one), check email, and maybe blog…all without an incessant dialogue between me and one or more little person(s) or the drone of background noise. In four months, this time will vanish, and I’ll either be blogging with a baby at my breast or sleeping later to make up for nighttime interuptions. Between now and then, I guard this quiet time sternly. Jen’s been banished to the couch.

It’s not surprising that she’s up early today, or that she was up early yesterday. We’ve been in the car around 6 pm both evenings prior, and she’s fallen fast asleep. Out cold. We just put her to bed for the night. Frequently, if there aren’t sufficient distractions, she falls asleep around that time anyway, generally while in the middle of a meltdown. It’s a messy situation, and it’s obvious she needs more sleep. I could point fingers at a certain older sister who likes to stay up late (and sleep late) and likes to have company in so doing, but instead, I’ll simply state that something is going to change. I’ll go to bed myself and ignore the giggles and chatter still bubbling with an unnatural energy at 10 pm, but I won’t give up my morning’s peace and quiet. And I really won’t accept a cycle that consists of three nights of yelling at asking little girls to stop talking followed by three mornings of having a someone lying on the floor at my feet complaining about everything from her tummy hurting to how boring it is at 6 am with nobody else awake and how cruel I am for ignoring her (repeat cycle).

This calls for a classic technique: divide and conquer. Somebody is going to be spending their bedtime on mom and dad’s bed.