And just like that, this family is done with diapers. Potty training is always a difficult time.
She turns two at the end of April and SHE wanted to do it. Life doesn’t stop for little girls wanting to use the potty, and she was a champ at the stores. I couldn’t find three days to just STAY at home, so we did it on the move. It REALLY helps to have older sisters to show you how it’s done.
I feel like my baby became a little girl over night!
These girls. Oh my heart.
My Mom made the dresses. She’s amazing.
Wait til you see what she made for Easter!!!!
But first, she’s getting so big and ever so cute!
When it comes to mixed, bi-racial, or minorities… I am a shoe in. Absolutely nobody in their right mind could call me racist, although many have. Due to this, black, white, Hispanic, Asian…all believe I feel the same way they do regardless of having NEVER spoken to them before. Folks…NEVER assume. I’ve seen some photos flying around facebook… “Children Aren’t Born Racist.” I agree, children aren’t BORN racist, but they are BORN seeing race. YOU see race even if you aren’t racist. My girls, from the moment they are born, stare at my white face. They eat staring at my blue eyes and my pale face. So, it should come as no surprise that my girls, until at LEAST age 2, are afraid of black women. They scream. They cry. They run away. And then the lectures begin…”you need to get your girls around black people!” “Your girl is going to grow up white if you don’t get her around black people!” These types of comments no longer offend me, they merely annoy me. Both Gooner AND Sooner saw themselves as white until one day some ignorant kid TOLD them they were different. They saw themselves as white because I am their primary caregiver. They stare at me ALL.DAY.LONG. Yes, they have a black Dad, but they are with me most of the time. Why does this matter? It matters because black women get VERY offended when my black little girl screams and runs away. I normally just tell the women, sorry. That she needs a nap. Because this too shall pass.
Curious yet? My “mixed” or “bi-racial” 6 year old identifies herself as black. She decided that all on her own. She knows she’s different…because she is, but so far it hasn’t been a big deal.
So this thing flying around Facebook about race…you are born loving that person you call Mom. And the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. – Dr. Bill Watson Normally, if a kid is racist so is his/her Mom.
In conclusion, if a child runs away from you…don’t be offended. Stranger danger, you aren’t Mom.
Most of my Mom’s family thinks I was handed life on a silver platter. Like they literally think that I STILL receive whatever I want. As in I received whatever I want growing up, and how I receive it now…. HA! Wait, I have one confession. ONE.
So my Dad is addicted to Chapstick. Like, take it away from him and he.can’t.think. He can’t even function. This is survival. I’m certain if you asked my Dad what he would take with him if he were stranded on an island…he’d take Chaptstick. First wish from a Genie? Forget world peace. Unlimited Original Chapstick delivered to my pocket please. I’m certain that if his last tube melted in the hot Texas sun, he would pull a Macgyver stunt and scrape it off. Dust? Chunks? Doesn’t matter. So, as a girl if we went to the store, by ourselves, Dad would buy me chapstick. He’d say, “need anything?” “Yah Dad, Chapstick.” He wouldn’t even question it, and he KNEW where the chapstick was. I’d pick something fruity, like Melon Burst, and he’d tease me. I did this EVERY time. I came to this marriage of mine with a drawer full. A DRAWER full. It took this seven years to finish and I had to actually buy my own. So yes, Chapstick was handed to me on a silver platter.
My sister and I worked hard. Don’t think for a minute that if my sister and I had chosen to drink, party and have babies before marriage that there wouldn’t have been consequences. There would have been. And they would have been swift. And painful. If I asked for something that cost, a lot, they would laugh. We laugh a lot.
But my parents are giving. She sews most everything for the girls.
Are we blessed? Absolutely.
I bit the bullet and started The Whole30. Every day has proved different from the last.
I’m just following a plan and doing it.
I’m ONLY on Day 3, so I don’t want to say too much. I WILL say that in three days my stomach bloat disappeared, which feels better, and more comfortable.
I WILL also say that detox is no joke. The headaches – no joke.
BUT I’m taking the approach of Miss Mustard Seed, enjoying the food I can consume, over those not beneficial to my health. Is it not better to focus on the positive? I’ve made quite a few tweaks to Breakfast and Lunch, but Supper has been largely the same. What HAS surprised me is how satisfied I am. I thought without bread and tortilla’s to fill me up I’d be hungry all the time. I’m not.
You can do anything for 30 days, yah?
I’ve enjoyed reading Stephaie’s Whole30/Paleo Journey as well.
I finally bit the bullet and ordered The Brazil Butt Lift. I’ve been wanting it for awhile, but I had P90X and Turbo Fire in the back of my mind. I truly enjoy Turbo Fire…but I just wasn’t seeing the results that I wanted in my legs. It is also a 45 to 60 minute high intensity workout and when you stop to
- help a child to the bathroom
- change a diaper
- get someone a snack
- split up a fight
- put someone to bed…
I honestly am dealing with that just fine, but once my heart rate goes down from such an extreme place, it is hard to just jump right in. And so this became my excuse; I didn’t WANT to workout because I was never able to complete it fully. And then I would get angry at my 3 year old who just wants a drink… And being a Mom IS more important so…
Then I had the idea to just do what you can. Ha, yah, I can usually do about 5 minutes of a workout before someone needs something. Wake up early you say? I tried that too. Nope, I end up waking ALL three of them. Every. Single. Time. I’m not sure if they sense that I’m occupied, hear the pounding, see the light or ? BUT, then I end up working out while Q tries to get himself out the door with children following him around crying and asking for breakfast. And for some CRAZY reason they don’t want DAD to help get breakfast they want MOM to help.
Enter Brazil Butt Lift. The box arrived. I took my measurements and before pics AGAIN. I’m getting ready for some after photos, if you know what I mean?
I haven’t posted all that much about my workouts. About the evolution of my health and diet. Truth? One reader emailed telling me that she was no longer interested in reading my blog because I was always failing. Clearly I wasn’t ready to lose weight…or I would. I’m not sure when I started caring what other people think so much. Maybe it is because I DO feel like I’m failing in weight loss and fitness. Or did. That is past tense. I’m two weeks into BBL and I love it. The girls love it. I’ve already had to pause it…and it isn’t the worst thing in the world. It is pretty easy to dive right back in.
And my photos won’t load. Sad day indeed!
First off, would the record please show that I no longer have much sway in what Gooner – she said I can call her “Nook” as a nickname – chooses to wear. She thought this outfit was, “SO awesome!”If it is too short or too tight I pull rank. BUT she has definite fashion opinions and I’m ok with that. She looks fabulous in her stripes and is normally the best dressed thanks to her Grandma who spares no expense in making dresses. And Sooner? Why wouldn’t you wear a turkey shirt on our Valentine’s hike?
I’m using the word hike loosely here. With all the snow we’ve been getting, paved trails are all we can do. Le sigh. I’m thankful for them. We are missing the outdoors! This is the beauty of Colorado; you have beautiful days mixed among the winter freeze!
Q is an amazing Dad. He just wants to hike, while the girls just want mountain snack. This means all the girls want to do is stop and eat…even though they weren’t hungry. They wanted cookies, which we use as bait to make hiking look SUPER enticing. It works.
Black hair gets hot. And it matched her clothing. Clearly anything would match at this point!
And the 3rd Edition? Yah, let’s call her Dimples. She is SO HAPPY! Almost all the time. She’s easy. She’s awesome. She’s the 3rd child. Birth order matters people.
l am so excited for more hiking! I’m enjoying the stage of “the littles” but I’m so excited for when everyone is old enough to camp! But seriously, I could snuggle Dimples ALL DAY LONG!
I’m pretty annoyed with all the folks posting pictures of their sick kids on Facebook. Half naked children – post puking – in a salad bowl. A salad bowl I will never trust again if I ever dine at your home, since we all know that said salad bowl is your designated PUKE BOWL. Sick. More importantly, it is sad that small children, who feel MISERABLE – clearly since they are stringy haired and falling asleep in front of the TV on a towel covered couch – are now all over the web. I feel sad. When I’m sick, I like to stay in my bed. And never shower. And I won’t brush my hair. I’m lovely. But I don’t want Q to post any pics of me on FB when I look so NASTY. So why do people do this to their children? I don’t understand. Your children don’t look cute post puke. Is this a way to show how awesome you are as a mother because you made it through a puke fest? WHY DO YOU DO IT? Won’t this embarrass your children?
Me? I’ll just be a hypocrite and post awesome photos of bad hair. My kids have AWESOME hair.