growing up

Nina said to me this week, "I already had a granola bar for breakfast, but it only made me grow to here (she puts her hand to the top of her head)...maybe I need to grow with pancakes so I can get here (puts her hand high in the air).

lesson learned

I pulled into the garage today and saw that Nina had a bloody nose. She was milking the attention as I took off her shirt, assuming she needed to cool down, etc. Then she said in a sad, sad voice, "Well, maybe I picked my boogers a lot..."

spirit fingers

We took the girls to a Bombers football game two weeks ago. The cheerleaders were handing out flyers for a cheer camp--the younger Turner girls were all over it. I asked Grace if she wanted to go and I got the non-committal, almost-teen shrug, scrunched nose and "sure," which I interpreted as "only if you make me." So, it was up to Auddie & Nina to leave the Turner imprint on the cheer squad.


We brought along Audrey's friend, Faith, and at first the three girls stood off to the side of the 75+ group of girls. Ages ranged from pre-k to 5th grade. Our girls were among the smallest. Audrey didn't get to use her hands for at least half an hour because Nina had a death grip on one of them.

As soon as the cheerleaders put the kids in small groups, that's when the Turners really started to shine. And by shine I mean become their usual high-maintenance selves, mixed with a little bit of cheer.

In the first 45 minutes, Nina took 5 water and 3 bathroom breaks. Pretty normal day for us, but a bit shocking to the cheerleaders, I'm sure. And thank goodness the camp was 4 hours long because it took Audrey and Faith about 2 hours to really warm up to things.

During the two hour warmup, amidst Nina's "breaks," Audrey came over to tell me that a scratch on her face she got days ago from Fredo "really, really itches and it's just driving me crazy!" Suck it up, friend, you're a cheerleader for a day. The Faith had something bugging her in a part of her shoe. Fixed that. Then Audrey's tummy hurt. "I mean, I had a juice and two cookies at snack, but my tummy is growling...I'm starving!" Again, suck it up.

Now you're probably wondering what the girls were actually learning during this time. They observed a lot of "spirit fingers" -- "a valuable tool," said Michael. They learned a cheer about how hot their team was, and they learned to shake their booty. For those of you who already know my girls, all of these things were right up their alley.
Here's the thing: THEY STOOD THERE DOING NOTHING WHEN THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING SOMETHING WITH THEIR GROUP. They were mesmerized, I guess.

As I walked Nina to one of her bathroom breaks, I asked what her favorite part was so far... "Well, that boy lifted that girl with the sharp teeth." I did not ask follow-up questions.

So our cheer camp ended with a bang. Nina marched herself up with the cheer squad when they were being introduced by their coach. She was so small amongst them that I don't think anyone really noticed. Then during the performance for the parents, Audrey demonstrated that she's really only ever one beat behind everyone else -- not three beats, as I previously thought.

Enjoy the mini videos.

when crap happens (again)

Today was one of those days when I cried to Michael when he got home. I also sent him a variety of manic text messages throughout the day -- some with cute, funny pictures of Nina's wardrobe of the day (see below), others with a WTF connotation because I just can't believe the chain of events that can happen in the day of the life as a stay-at-home (but rarely at home) mom. Here's an example:

Nina and I go to lunch with Britt & Brax. Nina refuses to eat any of her lunch, makes me pinky-swear (literally) that it "tastes good" before she even tries a bite. It's KRAFT MACARONI & CHEESE at a restaurant. (And it's the best damn mac & cheese I've ever tasted, in case you're wondering.) We leave the restaurant with her throwing a temper tantrum (thanks for tolerating B&B!).We get in the car, she screams for 5 minutes, then is out cold for a brief nap.

I have to kill some time before we pick up Audrey, so we got to Fred Meyer (here's where it gets fun). I have to go to the bathroom -- too much iced tea at lunch -- but Nina is still sleeping. I planned to just lay her in the cart on a coat, but I know the Freddy's plush restrooms can't fit a cart. Pickle #1. I leave our cart parked outside the bathrooms. Nina's over my shoulder, drooling in her sleep. I wedge us into a stall (can't use the handicrapper--thanks MT for that clever one--because it isn't presentabl). I hang my purse on the hook and then glance down to see if I dare set Neens on the floor. No can do.

I hold her nearly 30 pound body in one arm and undo my pants one-handed. Then I sit with her on my lap, go quickly, wipe, miss getting the t.p. into the toilet (oh-so-glad I didn't set her down on the floor), get pants back up one-handed, flush with foot, grab purse, and head out to wash hands (also a challenge). I'm feeling pretty darn proud of myself at this point. Sign me up for a multi-tasking competition, por favor.

Now I'll fast-forward to waiting in the parking lot of Audrey's school, about 30 min later. We have 25 minutes to kill so Nina's in the back eating nuggets and I'm surfing the net on my bberry. Nina toots LOUDLY twice. She giggles, I glare and ask her to excuse herself. Then she says "I need to potty real bad."

For those of you who know Nina, she ALWAYS has to go potty. It's her favorite pasttime, so I don't always hop to it when she tells me to. But I think back to 5 minutes earlier with the toot-o-rama and we jump out of the car and run into the church office where I know they have a bathroom (because we've used it umpteem times).

I close the door, turn Nina around and pull down her tights. Out falls a teeny turd.

I was so shocked that I wasn't sure, at first, what it was. She never indicated that anything actually happened in her drawers. I said, "Nina! What's going on? You peed and pooped your pants? Why didn't you tell me?" She shrugged her shoulders and said, "I didn't know I did. Sorry." Then she began a 10 minute sing-song about "so happy Christmas is almost here." I stripped her down, gave strict instructions not to let the wind catch her dress while we were outside getting Audrey, and off we went.

Now it's 3:00 and I have a brief shoot at 3:45 at the park -- and the girls have to come with me. I can't take nearly-naked-Nina, so we dash to Freddy's again to buy some new clothes. Made it to the shoot with 5 minutes to spare and Audrey even got an outfit out of the deal.

And what did I get out of the deal? A tasty hard cider and a box of rice a roni at the end of the day.

the glue that binds

Michael thinks glue fixes most problems. Door knob fall off? Glue the sucker on. Toilet paper holder jiggle? Glue it. Got an awesome patch that you want on a shirt? Glue it, of course. And, last but not least, even if you have a tear in the butt cheek of your trousers...Michael will offer that glue can make it all better.

So it came as no surprise when Audrey told me today after school, "Mom, Madison lost a shiny thing on her shoe. It fell off. She still has it, though, and I told her my dad was a really good gluer. Don't you think he's the right person to fix it, Mom? I can have Madison's mom write a note and send her shoe home with me for Dad to fix."

No loyalty or just following the rules?

Audrey learned about house fires today at school. The mobile burning home was brought in and the firefighters talked about stop, drop & roll, etc. The part Audrey retained best, however, was this...

"Mom! Most important. If you leave something in the house, DON'T GO BACK AND GET IT. Like, if you leave Nina, don't worry about it. Leave her. DON'T GO BACK AND GET HER."

When illness strikes...

It's been a while since I blogged. Or at least it feels that way. I'm on my second week of illness, but each of the two weeks has been a cornucopia of symptoms, keeping me on my toes.

Last week's illness is a funny story now, but it wasn't last Wednesday when I was in the fetal position on the floor with "happy" stickers on my bathrobe.

The day started like any other weekday -- me running around like a chicken with my head cut off, the girls either chasing me to ask questions or completely ignoring me as they sit zombie-like in front of the t.v.

As I drove Audrey to school, my stomach started to really hurt. Not. Good. I practically shoved her out the door so I could get home...certain that if I could lie down for a few minutes, I'd feel better.

First I called to cancel my dental appt for later that morning. The receptionist sounded skeptical of my last-minute excuse, but if she saw me at the exact time I was to be in their office, she would have insisted I remain at home.

Nina and I get back home and I lay on the couch, stomach cramping. I can't tell if I'm gonna puke, but I know the pains aren't from hunger (I actually hadn't eaten anything, but that also helped me rule out food poisoning). I tell Nina that I can't take her to school because I'm too sick. She barely looks at me because it's a critical moment on Curious George.

I decide to crawl into the kitchen to mix ginger and water. It's the nasty cocktail Michael always makes me when my stomach is upset and I know it'll either settle the stomach or make me barf. I'll take either at this point. So I get down the box 'o medical goodies, but now my stomach hurts so much that I have to lie down on the kitchen floor. I'm on my side, trying to get comfortable. Fetal position seems best. Tummy rumbles, I feel like I'm about to get relief...then...BAM!

I crapped my pants.

Let me rephrase that...I firehose sprayed my jeans with soupy poopy. Worst. Feeling. Ever.

So now I crawl furiously to the bathroom. Nina's still watching George. Now, this part becomes a little fuzzy because I'm not entirely sure I didn't blackout at some point. I think it was a combination of the smell, pain and downright horrific realization at what just happened and I still have a 3 year old to care for.

After what feels like an eternity, I crawl half-naked to the bedroom where I put on fresh undies. So now I'm wearing athletic socks, boy short undies and a t-shirt. The chills begin to hit me so I grab my robe from the bed. (It's important now to note that the robe was a gift from my hubby. It resembles an Easter egg because it's white, powder blue, pink and light green...striped.). My outfit just went from bad to worse.

I yell for Nina and ask her to find a phone and bring it to me. She obeys like a good little 3 year old and runs back to her t.v. I call Michael, no answer. I call his cell, no answer. I need help. Pain is awful, so wiped I can't stand...praying Nina doesn't need anything any time soon. I know Mom's driving to Spokane, dad's out of town, Jaime doesn't answer her cell. I don't want to call anyone with kids because they won't want to come to the house. I don't want to call my brother because I left a haze of poo in the other bathroom and I'm certain you can smell it from the front door.

That's when I start crying and Nina kneels beside me. "You want me to call 911?"

Me: Oh god, no, thanks honey. If you do that, I'll have to crawl to the door like this. I'll just keep trying to call Dad.

I tried again 5 times and finally get him. I don't elaborate on the situation. Rather, I whimper and tell him to get home pronto. I hang up and Nina brings me a cup of water (bless her) and covers me with her baby's blankets. Then she sits next to me and pats my back.

Michael shows up, takes one look around and asks, "What's going on?" I reply, "Um, I'm sick." He makes me the ginger stuff, I barf many times, crawl into bed and sleep for 4 hours.

During this time, my dear hubby cleans the other bathroom (including the grotesque clothes that I would have THROWN AWAY). When I wake up, I notice little stickers on my bathrobe. "Nina? Did you put these on me?" She replies, "Yep. So they make you happy."

Love that kid.