Nothing really . . .

Just some random things floating in my head:

This past Sunday was the day our church recognizes all the children born or adopted into our church family in the last year. I was a little sad as I realized that seeing all those babies didn't do anything to me. That is, I didn't get baby envy or wish I could cuddle them or wish mine were little again or anything. Nothing. That emotional or biological urge for a baby is just gone. That's a good thing, generally, but I feel a little old too. Rationally and realistically, I haven't wanted more children for a long time, but I kind of miss that little irrational tug I would get when around lots of babies. Does this make any sense at all? Nevermind.

My children are annoyingly tenacious. On the one hand, I want to strangle them for getting into stuff that we have purposely put out of their reach. On the other hand, I have to admire their imagination and drive in their quests to pursue said items regardless. My daughter is only 32" tall, but she finds ways to get to things that I can't reach without assistance. Her (and her brother's) latest "partner in crime?" My kitchen trash can. It's made of oak (with a Rubbermaid 13-gal. can inside). They push it around the kitchen and climb on it to get to what they want. Here's where I found it earlier today:
What does it say about me that I was content to just leave it there, in front of the fridge, until I needed to get something from the fridge half an hour later? Spousehole calls it lazy. Perhaps he is right. LOL He has actually tried to devise a way to attach it to the floor so they can't move it. I think we should just instill some discipline in the little monkeys instead of having to cement the trash can to the floor or put things out of their reach. A small difference of opinion around here. But if we try that whole instilling discipline thing, perhaps I can have my step-stool back so I can reach things around here!

My daughter has been driving us crazy for the last couple months asking us to take her to Chi-Chi's. There hasn't been a Chi-Chi's around here for at least a decade, so we were pretty confused. Almost every time we went anywhere, she would say "Go Chi-Chi's?" and then cry and scream when we did not take her to this non-existent restaurant. We even tried to take her to Don Pablo's one night, thinking the kid was jonesing for a quesadilla or something (and we promptly found that Don Pablo's packed up and left town, damn it. Why can't we keep fake-Mexican restaurants around here?). Then we were driving one evening when she began the Chi-Chi's thing. But this time she was pointing out the window and I saw it: Chuck E Cheese's. That was what the poor kid had been saying for months and we didn't understand her! OMG, we feel like the worst parents EVER. Not that we would have taken her to Chuck E. Cheese on demand, because we wouldn't, but because it took us that long to figure out what the poor kid was saying. We suck.

Mentioning my daughter's height above reminds me: My son and I are participating in a study of mothers and children that seeks to discern a connection between maternal weight and obesity in children. We had our heights and weights measured last week for the first time for the study. I have to commend Spousehole for getting Boy onto the scale. Boy was saying "no, no, no" and fighting to stay away from the scale. Then Spousehole got Boy to look at the scale's readout while he (Spousehole) stepped on it. He said "Look, that's Daddy's number." Then he had Girl step on the scale while Boy watched the readout and he said "Look, that's your sister's number. Now let's see what your number is." And Boy climbed right on the scale and was weighed. No fuss, no fight. I was incredibly impressed. I was losing patience with Boy and Spousehole stepped in and got Boy interested and invested in the process so he would cooperate. Sometimes he is a really great Dad.

BTW, my 7-year-old son is only 44 pounds at 47 inches tall. (I feed him, I swear I do.) Girl, who will be 3-years-old on the 25th, was 24 pounds and 32" tall. (I also feed her, I swear). Somehow, my children have thus far escaped childhood obesity despite having a fat Mommy.