ONE HUNDRED TWENTY FIVE…fruit and poop randomness

blog booLittle Phoebe and her sentence structure is really blowing us away. She stomped her way into our bedroom bright and early and proclaimed, “Guys, I had the worst dream last night.” This perfect sentence from our 5-year-old. At 3 this sweet girl was not talking. She has been in some sort of speech therapy since she was 18 months old and finished up with all therapies 3 months ago. I was concerned about her bad dream, but so relieved at her sentence structure!

Me: What happened Phoebe?

Phoebe: I had a dream that someone marked on Abby’s face with a black marker. It was terrible.

Me: Wow, that does sound terrible. Come and hop into bed with mommy.

Phoebe : Ok mommy…(she snuggles in tight)

Phoebe: Mommy

Me: Yes Picklebottom?

Phoebe: Mommy, I farted.

Me: Of course you did.

And there you have it. A noun, a verb, and a pronoun. I will take it!

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We found the perfect children’s book for our little family over the weekend. It’s called ‘Wolfie’ and Cecilia and Phoebe love it! I love it! This is the one book I don’t mind re-reading throughout the day/night. I do wish it went on a little longer. The three of us are never quite ready for the ending. blog 6-9blog 3-4blog 3-2blog 2


3 years ago yesterday, March 10th, we packed up our belongings in Tennessee and moved to southern FL. We had this grandiose idea of living minutes from the beach, sand on our floors, living in our bathing suits every day, taking breaks during the day to run out and get a quick surf in before breakfast, lunch and dinner and amazing meals by big picture windows with breathtaking ocean views, white linen curtain panels flowing easily in the breeze through our home.

Three years later, it is not exactly what I had in mind…We absolutely have sand on our floors, so that part has come true, and we do live minutes from the beach (7 to be exact). So those are the few ‘dreams’ I had in mind that actually came true. We definitely don’t wear our bathing suits everyday…not even in the summer. We don’t live on or close enough to the beach to observe those spectacular ocean views whilst preparing dinner. And Greg is basically the only one in our family who goes out on a semi-consistent basis to take little surf breaks. Although he would grumbley tell you, “this winter has been THE WORST for surfing” (as he throws himself on the floor with a glisten of a tear in his eye).

n8I am consistently surprised to find we have responsibilities just like we did while we were living in TN. Why can’t we live on the beach, wear white linen dresses (which manage to stay perfectly white), walk around and collect seashells, find coconuts, eat fresh seafood everyday and run to the middle of the beach and proclaim through song “the beach is alive with the sound of music…ah ah ah ah”? Just a question I am throwing into the void…not rhetorical or searching for answers…Just wondering.


I washed one of Cecilia’s dirty diapers today. Sadly, it’s not my first time. It has been a while since I have had that kind of oversight. And then I remember I did tell Phoebe to take her dirty clothes from the hamper and toss them into the washing machine…she’s been asking to help out lately. And I also seem to Vaguely recall handing her Cecilia’s diaper assuming she knew to throw it into the trash. Ah well. At least there wasn’t any #2 in it.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself.


Speaking of poop, I opened the trash can this afternoon to throw my sweet-smelling mango peel inside the large black void and nearly fell over from the most offensive smell. “I need to take the trash out” I thought to myself. I threw the peeling away, shut the door and went on to my next extraordinary event of the day…EMPTYING THE DISHWASHER. Chaos ensued, the girls were fighting about something and my attention was then focused on the drama my girls were creating, ultimately forgetting about the trash that desperately needed to be thrown out. “Ok, we’re going outside. Find your shoes and put them on (you have to tell them to put them on because they will literally ‘find’ them and walk away thinking, “I found them, mommy’s going to be so proud”).  We were outside riding bikes, skateboards, taking walks, pushing baby cars around the cul-de-sac and throwing the tennis ball to Bear.

An hour later, we came back in with the intention of fixing lunch but then I looked at the kitchen and thought, “It’s so clean…why mess it up”, so I did the only responsible thing I could have done in that moment and took everyone to Panera Bread. It was a good choice. Everyone behaved themselves and acted like little human beings. I was very happy. When we returned home, it was nap-time for Cecilia. After laying her down, I took the new dirty diaper and opened up the trashcan in the kitchen and a new oder greeted my nose. It was the strange odor of poop and fruit mixed together. For the first time in years, I gagged. I really thought I was going to lose it all in that very moment. “Greg!” I yelled, “When you have a moment will you please take out the trash?” Greg is the perfect person for the job. His sense of smell has never been stellar. He did remark on the odoriferous stench…but did not seem to be as affected as I had been. It was in that moment, my love for him was renewed! He is a good man.

AND by the way, what is it with me and poop?


And for this afternoon, that is all I have. Just a small collection of stories from the past several days/weeks…random and disheveled.

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