Once Upon A Time

I wanted to write this post because I hear all the time, "life is not a fairy tale!" While that may be true as far as being able to sum up the vast majority of your years in a simple three-word phrase "happily ever after," the fact is that in a myriad of ways, life is very much like a fairy tale.

Let me count the ways:

In our house, it's more rare that someone isn't running out the door without a shoe. Or even pants. But usually a shoe.

In the original Little Mermaid (the one Disney doesn't like to talk about), when she gets her legs from the sea witch, the Mermaid's feet bleed and experience stabbing pain with every step. Last week, I stepped on a Lego brick. Enough said.

"Hey, mom, I forgot my homework is to spin gold into straw, and it's due tomorrow!! I need help!"
"Hey, honey, the church needs someone to spin gold into straw by Sunday, so I told them we could do it. Of course, I just found out I have to work late, so...can you help?" The worst part is, no one will take my first-born child as payment for anything. If I pawn the kid off, even for a few hours, I have to pay THEM for the privilege. What a rip.

I can only go to the ball if I get all my chores done too, and sure enough, they suddenly multiply.

According to my children, nearly all apples are poison. The only thing more poisonous are vegetables. And I'm the old hag peddling them.

You work and work and work, but when you finally get into a good deep sleep, someone wakes you up with a slobbery kiss, or an announcement that they peed their pants.

Slaying dragons? Who has an actual problem with dragons these days?! I am, however, a first-class under-the-bed-monster hunter.

Some days, I'm both Beauty and the Beast.

I've traded my voice for obeying before. It's involves even more yelling than you'd think, and it usually ends up as a raw deal all around, just like in the story.

Small people think my hair is a magical rope that can hold their body weight. It can't.

When I'm not looking, elves come into my home, but instead of helping with chores, they sneak food and make messes.

No, birds and mice don't actually help my kids get dressed. But clearly, someone is feeding them ideas, and that person or thing has never heard of a weather report or matching.

After a day of overcoming obstacles, battling tantrums, long journeys filled with trial, physical feats of strength and agility, excessive amounts of thankless chores, all while struggling to maintain grace, beauty, and sweetness, the prince strolls in just before bedtime, throws around a few goodnight kisses, and somehow, he's the hero of the story.

A princess lives here. With every last one of her related licensed products.

Every so often, I get to dress up and go out for a special night. Then the prince and I glance at the clock and drive home as if our car will turn into a pumpkin to avoid spending any more money on a sitter.

Our story may not be the "happily ever after" of little girls' dreams, but it's an ongoing tale of adventure, peril, triumph, comedy, and even magic. Not a bad narrative if you ask me.

It's Quiet...a little TOO Quiet

Since I wrote a post to whine and complain last month, I figure this month, I'll keep it more upbeat. I won't even mention the fact that while peeing in the potty is a huge success, we are still batting zero on the #2 front, and last week while we had company over for dinner Peyton managed to poop on the kitchen floor and then Sam stepped in it and started to shriek and cry. I just can't even talk about it. It's hilarious, but sometimes it makes me cry from embarrassment and there's too many conflicting emotions to handle!

This month, I'll talk about little Presley. Because she is a baby worth talking about! She's six months old now, and she is currently a perfect specimen of babydom (I know well enough to know that can change quickly, especially with the advent of teething). She is happy all the time, she loves everyone and everything, she smiles ear to ear constantly, and she even laughs and giggles when her big brother is all up in her personal space lying on her and smothering her with kisses. She loves her big siblings like crazy, even though sometimes when Sam holds her, Presley starts to slide down the couch precariously and it looks scary to me, Presley just laughs or does happy shrieks until I come "save" her. She's interacts with everyone she meets, and if she's on the ground, she just rolls around and plays with whatever crosses her path. She goes down for naps and bed easily. The only "complaint" I have is that she still wakes up every 3-4 hours to eat, but that's not much of a complaint, and if I do feed her, she falls right back asleep, or will put herself back to sleep in her crib even if you put her down awake.  If she can't find her binky she'll fuss for a couple of minutes and then just substitute her thumb. She thinks Sam's fart jokes are funny! (Which is good for Sam because the rest of us are pretty tapped out on the potty humor and no one else laughs) I usually have to wake her up in the morning or afternoon (sometimes both) to do the school run and she always wakes up happy. That's weird, right?

In fact, sometimes she's such a good baby that it freaks me out. I was actually happy when she made it abundantly clear she didn't like peas because at least she is capable of negative emotions (my future self just came back from Presley's terrible twos and kicked me in the shins for even saying that).

What Presley is NOT good at, is making me feel okay with the thought of being done with babies. Thanks a lot, Presley. I thought I would be so ready to be finished (since I probably have to be finished anyway), but she is just so cute and snuggly and such a joy to have around that it just makes me sad how fast the time is flying and makes me want to start over. I'm no moron though. I know loving the baby you have is not a good enough reason alone to have another one (especially if it's risky for your health). I know odds are just as good I could end up with another non-sleeper, or a colicky one, and then I will think the first six months is the longest time ever in the history of human existence. That's what I tell myself when I start thinking, "Hmmm, what are the actual odds a stroke will incapacitate or kill me? Is it worth it? Look at these thighs! Did you see these cheeks!?"

So then yesterday, when Presley got shots, I figured we might see some actual crankiness or she would feel lousy. She also has her first cold (which is nothing more than a stuffy nose--even her illness is low-maintenance). Sure enough, the shots did a number on her. Since she wasn't feeling well, Presley slept through the night. Uh huh. Then, every time I put her in her car seat to run errands, she falls asleep in there. She took a nap after school drop off, even though she slept during that too. When we took her brother to the indoor bounce house, her smiles were slightly smaller than usual, she sat on my lap for two hours looking around, and then she fell asleep on the way home. Next she ate, played with her brother, and is now taking another nap. Apparently, when Presley feels yucky, she just sleeps more. I kid you not.

I'm not sure where this kid came from. Either she's gearing up for one epically awful toddler-hood, or she should be nominated for sainthood now to get the process going. Only time will tell which.