Teachings of a mom

Today I have taught my girls that ice cream heals all wounds; including, banged up knees :)

Where do you live?

This morning the girls were pretending to talk to me on the phone. Rylee asked if I wanted to come over to play. So I asked "Where do you live?" -- keep in mind we haven't taught them that yet - and she replied "With Nana!" I told her I would be right over. Next Haylee called and wanted me to come over and play. So I asked "Where do you live?" and her face went blank. Not wanting her sister to not know, Rylee spoke and said "With God!" Haylee shook her head in agreement. "With God?" I asked. "Yes," Rylee said, shaking her head, "with dead people." Haylee didn't say anything at that. Trying not to laugh, I told the girls you live at 7-8-0 Eastwood. Rylee, not missing a beat, said "Good name, mommy" and walked off to play.

Amazing.

Sometimes God just knows...

Sometimes God just knows when you need that extra hug, the random dollar in the pocket of a lost jacket that you found, or in my case a husband home early.

Yesterday was a hideous day. Mostly for me, I'm sure. I wish I could say it started with "Hi, Mom's" or hugs, but alas it didn't. It started with "Mom, I'm hungry!" and "Mom, the dog stepped on my toe!" I know not big things in the grand scheme of life, but when it started escalating to shouts of "I said No" (directed at me) or "She kicked me", etc.. over and over again it gets tiring. Yesterday it was WAY past tiring.

Then the snow came. And came. And came. Then honnie came for lunch. Then honnie stayed. And cuddled. And made great coffee.

It was a definite God thing!

Morning Rituals.

My favorite part of the morning isn't the great coffee, but the ritual between Sean and the girls: (done before Sean leaves) "Blah Blah's" go through the air, then the secret handshake followed by blah lah lah, and finally secrets whispered into each ear - both for the girls to dad and dad to girls. This ritual is exclusive to dad and I LOVE it!

Running with ... Pencils?

When I was growing up my little brother was mad at me and decided to run down the stairs of our house with a sharpened pencil and jab it into the back of my head. Note that back then the pencils had actual lead in them. While I laugh now, it wasn't so funny when my three year old did the same thing - but with a duller pencil - to her twin. All because she was mad at me. Who would of thunk that those types of things come back around?