Ronan's first playdate

Ronan had his first playdate today!  Astrid came over while her momma was out working it, selling the fabulous Matilda Jane clothing (see www.matildajaneclothing.com - love it!).  

Roj pulled out all the stops trying to impress the Miss Astrid.

He tried the giggle.  She wasn't that impressed.  She, too, can giggle.

He tried the "Hey look.  There's my mom with that stupid camera."  She still wouldn't give him a look.

He even tried to impress her by eating a ball.  Nothing.

Then, big brother arrived on the scene and stole all the thunder.  

With his big muscles, charming smile, ability to walk, and lack of diapers, Gan's an impressive man.  Plus, Gannon wasn't still in his too-small pajamas and wearing a bib at 10:30 in the morning.  You can almost feel Ronan's shame and rage - "Mom, why do you have to TORTURE me like this?!?!"  I'm sure I'll have to pay for years of therapy.

Momma T.

The Murphys hate puke and puking.

My sweet girl has the stomach flu.  I hate the stomach flu.  I hate it when their little bodies are wracked with spasms, and I hate it when they cry and beg you to make it stop.  If only.

The stomach flu brings out different qualities in each of my Murphys.  Ryan runs for the hills.  He hates puke and blood and boogers.  Come to think of it, all bodily fluids make him just a wee bit woozy.  He does rodents and bugs - touches them, hunts them, exterminates them.  I do the bodily fluids.  It's why our marriage works.  

When Gan gets the stomach flu, he becomes apologetic.  Last time he had it, he said to me, after about the sixth time he retched that night, "Mom.  I think that all the bad germs are out of my stomach now, so you can get some sleep."  

My sweet girl, on the other hand, confronts the stomach flu with the passion of her Irish heritage.  She gets steamed, and she focuses her rage on the source of all evil in her life.  Gannon.  (He does get into her stuff and throw things at her and generally do things to irritate her, so she's not entirely off base.)  As she was dry heaving for the second time this morning, she said, "Why can't Gannon have the stomach flu instead of me?"  She followed it up with a few comments implying that she got the stomach flu from Gannon because he had it in DECEMBER.

He does look to be feeling just a wee bit guilty about something.

I'm off to clean my toilet and buy carbonated beverages and crackers.  


Love,


Momma T.

There's An Explanation for All of This

I'm so very sorry for the long delay on this post. I know that many of you have been worried sick that something awful befell me.  Silence...........

Well, I know that Bets was worried because she emailed me to check up (thanks to you, Soul Sista).  

I was busy with a project during my two-week blog hiatus.  There's a long story, but I don't have enough space on my blog site to tell all of it.  So here it is in pictures and short sentences:

In November, Maguire and I got lice.  Those little suckers.  If I could figure out a way for each and every one of them to suffer a long and painful death, I'd do it.  I swear I'd find the time to inflict  pain on each and every one of them.  I think, sadly, their brains are too small to include a physical sense section.  Oh well. 

As a result of the lice episode, I had to wash all of our gear, including several winter hats, in hot water and dry them in hot air.  I lost several cute hats.  I also no longer have any throw pillows in my house - but that's a different story.

The only hat that made it through the heat debacle was this one:

Two weeks ago, my very dear friend (she's the faceless follower below) gave it to me straight.  She said the hat was ridiculous and made me look like I had a dalmatian on my head.  She said I should be ashamed of wearing it, especially because I am a knitter.  

This motivated me to finally make myself a new hat out of this yarn I bought ages ago.  I became obsessed with finishing the hat.  I could not blog; I could not internet shop; I could not read trashy books; I could not watch Project Runway (although I did DVR it - I haven't lost all of my mind).  

The saddest part was that I could hardly manage to appropriately rear my children during the two weeks it took to make the hat.  They had to watch Scooby-Doo episodes over and over again.  We love Scooby-Doo, by the way.  All the episodes, vintage and new.  They rock our world.  But usually we do not engage in daily Scooby-loving.  

I had deluded myself into thinking that my sweet babies had suffered no ill effects from the sometimes-twice-daily Scooby-loving, until I reviewed the photographic evidence...

Exhibit 1:

Poj staring at the TV - he's only eight months old.  I'm pretty sure the pediatricians of the world unanimously advise against this.

Exhibit 2:

My big kids were so crazy with hunger they decided to start gnawing on their hands.  I should have noticed something wasn't right because they were sharing the bean bag without yelling at me about who had more space. 

I'm not sure if it was worth it, but I no longer have to wear the lopsided dalmatian hat.  Ryan's grandma declared the hat a success - she said it was "classy."  But I didn't tell her what I did to my kids to make it.  Does anyone know if I can reverse the damage?  Should I feel horribly guilty every time I wear the hat?  Maybe I should sentence myself to a lifetime of the class-less dalmatian hat as penance...all in the spirit of punishment fitting the crime.

But the hat is pretty cute.

Maybe I could just make it up to the kids by taking them to a movie....and blame any lasting ill-effects  on stinkin' lice.

Love,

Momma T.