Temporary? Insanity

Apologies if yours doesn’t and this makes you feel bad. But sometimes, a mommy just HAS to brag it up.

That is all.

We spent the weekend switching our upstairs bedroom with the girls’ downstairs one. It was sweaty, grueling work and I think my accident-prone self has wracked up more bruises and scratches in the past two days than the past two months combined.
Oh but it was fun. (Pictures Forthcoming)
There’s a sort of natural high that comes with change. It’s exhilarating and unpredictable and even more exhilarating BECAUSE it’s unpredictable. Then afterwards there’s this shivery sort[...]

Heaven
While eating dinner the other night Emma began spooning her water out of her cup and into her mouth. I was going to scold her, and then observed to Neil that I did the same thing at her age.
Emma interrupted and said, “I know you did,” in a very matter-of-fact voice.
Me: How do you know that?
Emma: I watched you from up in heaven. Jesus told me I could watch my family and that’s how I saw you.
Definitely one[...]

Winnie-the-Pooh: Cuddly bear all stuffed with fluff? Or morally bankrupt orchestrator of a string of honey thefts that will live on in infamy?
According to Emma…
“Pooh shouldn’t take the bees’ honey…it’s not his! It’s not nice to take things away from people! That’s stealing!”
Leaf Collecting: A harmless childhood hobby? Or a disgusting eco-unfriendly practice worthy of scorn and disdain?
According to Emma…
Neighbour Boy: Here’s a pretty leaf for you. See? It has spots on! (Passing it through the chain link fence)
Emma: (Passing[...]

Neil (as he’s ironing his work shirts): So Emma, what do you want to be when you grow up? An eye doctor like Daddy?
Emma: No. I want to be a mommy.
Mommy: Why do you want to be a mommy?
Emma: Because mommies can wear wrinkled shirts and eye doctors can’t.

Neil and I burst out laughing at her logic. It was a nice life role affirming moment for me as well.

I hate ironing. Good thing I’ve got this[...]

I don’t talk about my religion much. That’s a simple fact of my blogging existence. And for whatever reason, for me, at this moment, that has felt right. I don’t want to delve into possible rationales, because it’s been a spiritual rather than intellectual decision on my part. I only share what I feel moved to share.
Saturday night, something sweetly moving happened, and caught up in the suffusion of the accompanying warm glow I knew that[...]

A tribute to my daughter Emma, on the occasion of her fifth birthday.
June 20th, 2009.
There is something in the way your eyes dance that makes my heart ache. Sometimes with love. Sometimes with envy. Everything in you is bubbly and alive. You bounce. You gleam. You spin. Words are nothing but an underline to the action adventure story that is your life, and what little dialogue you engage in is brief and fleeting.
Always[...]

Emma was quite alarmed when the doctor told her that the lump on her neck would have to be removed. Her protests are having a strangely conflicting effect on me. That the doctor’s pronouncement is worrying to her breaks my heart. Her arguments as to why the lump should stay however? Those are making me giggle.

Argument Number One: But it makes me beautiful!

Argument Number Two: But Jesus put it there for me to swallow with!

Argument Number Three: Maybe it’s just some extra cookies stuck in my throat!

Giggling aside, I’m feeling much better about it all. I’ve researched the subject like mad, of course. And I have the home phone number of an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist (friend of the family) who told my mum to tell me I could call with any questions. The procedure really does seem quite simple, despite the horrifying array of mental pictures my vivid imagination is dredging up, and I have a feeling of calm now whenever I think about it.

And I can look forward to my four year old’s many logical arguments in favour of keeping her “bump.”

Now I’m not saying that I couldn’t handle having ugly kids. Heck, at one point in time I was one, so there’d be a certain poetic justice to it. Still, when I look at my daughters I can’t help beaming just the weest little bit. They’re gorgeous, after all. And while I know that God had more of a hand in their creation than I did, sometimes I strut a bit and think, yeah, I helped make them. I rock.
Hey,[...]

Less blogging has equated to more family time here at the Vanderhorst homestead. I’m feeling a fresh sense of wonder as I take time to watch my children play. I love their use of imagination, and their love of music, and today I captured a moment where both combined. Rather strangely, I’ll admit, my kids are also weird, but oh how very, very fortunate I feel to be the mother of such darling little girls…

Oh, and I’m[...]