Springtime in Chicago

Taken off my deck this afternoon.

Mr. Clean Saves the Day!

Brendan and I have been very busy this month trying to get the house ready to be put up for sale. We've had the kitchen floor replaced, bought and hung new curtains for the sliding glass doors, washed walls, decluttered the kitchen, removed all magnets and pictures from the refrigerator, etc. Yesterday, I spent three hours cleaning, decluttering, and stashing stuff so that our realtor could come over for less than five minutes and take pictures of several of the rooms in the house to put on the brochure and internet when we list the house.

Brendan has been planning to paint several walls thoughout the house this weekend that are very dirty, or just have to many marks on them. The upstairs hallway, that we haven't painted ever, we just left it the way the previous owners had painted it, had one wall with large and dark green marks from our clothes hamper on it that Brendan was going to have to paint over. We hoped that the paint in the basement marked "ecru" and left by the previous owners was the color that was on the wall, although we don't know for sure. Well, last night I had a great idea. I would try the Magic Eraser. After several minutes of gentle scrubbing, our wall looked as good as new. No green marks, no paint removed, nothing. Just clean, ecru (we think) colored walls. I was so proud of myself. I just saved Brendan lots of time, time he can now spend cleaning or packing other things!

I Can't Wait Until April 2!

All three of my children woke up at 5:40 AM this morning. Zoe, who regularly sleeps until 7:30, was crying and I knew I would have to get up with her. I went into her room, and although the sun was peeking through the sides of her blinds, I told her it was still "night night" time and that she had to go back to sleep. I proceeded to pick her up, sit with her in the rocking chair, wrap her up in her blanket, and rock. As this is going on, I hear Emma looking for me in my bed. After a few tears, she goes downstairs to look for me there. Upon not finding me, she becomes very concerned and goes to consult her big brother Ian. After talking with him for a few seconds, she decides that asking her dad, who is showering, would be the best method to finding me. I am still rocking Zoe at this time and keep hoping Brendan hurries up so he can grab Emma and Ian if need be and usher them downstairs so that they don't interrupt Zoe going back to sleep. Emma went into the bathroom and scared the hell out of Brendan, who told her I was either in bed or probably in with Zoe. Emma knew I wasn't in bed, and didn't think I was in with Zoe. Brendan, hoping to finish showering and getting dressed without any further near heart attacks, sent Emma out of the bathroom. Emma went back to her room and chatted with Ian about my possible whereabouts once again. I then heard a loud whisper outside of Zoe's door, "Mom, are you in there?" It was Emma. I didn't answer her, Zoe was looking very heavy eyed and I didn't want to risk it. Emma repeated herself, in the same loud whisper. Again, no response from me. I hear her heading back to her room to talk to Ian once more. He must have advised her that I probably couldn't hear her because she was whispering, because her next question, in a quiet tone, not a whisper, was "Mom, can you hear me?" I wrestled with whether to respond or not. On the one hand, if I let her know where I was, she would hopefully stop bugging me. (I have trained the older two kids pretty well on not coming into the room when I'm with Zoe during a sleep time.) If I don't tell her, she'll keep asking if I'm there until she gets the information she wants. But telling her risks the balance of putting a sleepy two year old back to bed. Three year olds are very persistent, and Emma is no exception. Because of this I decide to let her know where I am with a loud "shhhhhh." Zoe isn't bothered too much, and Emma is happy to know where I am. She informs Brendan of my location and happily goes downstairs with him for some juice. I lay Zoe back down in her crib, grab my bathrobe, and head downstairs myself, where I am greeted by Brendan, Emma, and Ian. It was 5:55.

Karate Ian

Wow! Ian has had a great two days. On Sunday he competed in his first karate tournament and won second place! Then on Monday, he tested for his green belt in karate and got it!

In the tournament he competed against other six year old orange belts and ended up with a second place trophy. He got a buy in the first rounds, then went up against a girl who was not very aggressive. He beat her 3-0. Then in the final match he went up against a boy who was excited to be competing. After an accidental kick to Ian's groin, Ian went on to score one point, to the other boy's three. He stuck through the match and really did a great job. After receiving his trophy he told Brendan and I that his trophy was very valuable to him. "It's as valuable as my Gamboy and Bunny," he said.

Then on Monday he tested forhis green belt. We were there to cheer for him as he received his next belt ranking. He was so proud, and so was I.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

From my three (half) Irish and green clad children to all of you, have a good one!

When Procrastination Pays Off

I am a subscriber to Family Fun magazine and really enjoy looking through it, reading the articles, and even trying a few of the cute ideas. Ian's and Emma's valentines were made from an idea from this magazine and I've made a few fun recipes. I decided not to renew because even though I really liked the magazine, I thought we could save a a little money. Well, yesterday I got a call from representatives of the magazine and they offered me a three year subscription for just $0.93 an issue! They only publish ten times a year, so I'm locked in for $9.30 a year for three years! How great is that! All their renewal offers were for $14.95 a year, so I'm quite pleased with how this turned out. Maybe we'll try this tactic with Brendan's Sport's Illustrated subscription.

Murphy's Law

Murphy’s Law says that when you are having a new kitchen floor layed, and you have to do 25 additional things like pack two extra lunches, get packages ready to send after selling on eBay, and remove the stool and tissues from the bathroom before it is time to take your six year old to school, your three year old, who hasn’t had an accident in over 6 months, will pee all over the bathroom floor, your six year old who is holding himself because he has to go pee so badly will argue with you that he doesn’t want to go upstairs to use the bathroom but instead wants to use the bathroom with the pee all over the floor, the pee from the 3 year old will go all over your six year old’s favorite stuffed bunny, which you will now have to wash this morning otherwise he won't have it for bed tonight because you won’t have access to your washer and dryer because your kitchen floor is being layed today, and all after you have just poured milk onto your cereal so you can't eat it because it will all be soggy after you have cleaned up the mess. And blogger is having technical difficulties so you can't blog about it. At least that’s what Murphy’s Law said at my house this morning.

This Is My Husband

I have always loved Fox Trot. It is a well written, well drawn comic that is always current and always delivers a laugh. Today's is especially good, if only because my husband has been waiting for these stamps to come out (and may have pondered this same question Jason has!).

Heaven

Ian was teasing Emma this morning and somehow ended up telling her she was dead. Instead of getting upset about it, Emma became extremely joyful. She said, "When I'm dead I get to go to heaven and see Jesus and his mother and give God a hug." Then she danced around in circles and said, "I can't wait until I'm dead and get to go to heaven. It's gonna be so great!"

Now, I have to admit the innocence and exhuberance Emma showed was sweet, and kind of fun to watch. But it was also slightly disturbing to me as well. As happy as I am to hear her talk about going to God when she dies, the very thought of her death frightens the hell out of me. I know she wasn't truly deeply contemplating death, but it was still unnerving to hear a 3 1/2 year old talk about when she will be dead. Maybe we should all look at death with the innocence of a three year old; but of course we can't because we know of all the things we have done in his life, both good and bad.

Emma capped off her joyful exhaltations about death with this final comment. "When I'm dead, I want to wear this." (her pink fleece dress, white shirt, pink tights, and black shoes.)