Yep. Tiller’s turn to butcher her own hair. I have to give her credit- it does have kind of an edgy Joan Jett look to it.
Archive for the ‘Tiller’ Category
Tiller’s New Do
Thursday, March 4th, 2010What are you going to be?
Thursday, February 25th, 2010Tiller and I were sitting on the love toilets this afternoon. (That’s what we call our Jack and Jill toilets, right by each other, but separated by a door. You can hold hands while taking a poo. Love toilets.)
Me: “What ya been doing?”
T: “I’m playing doctor with Snoopy.”
Me: “Are you going to be a Doctor when you grow up?”
T: “Maybe.”
Me: “You will have to study hard.”
T: “I will have to go to college.”
Me: “Yes, you will have to go to college and then medical college, too.”
T: “I can be anything I want to be.”
I nod my head, smiling.
Me: “Yes, you can.”
[Tiller sits there thinking, hand on fist, elbow on her knee.]
T: “Mama?”
Me: [wishing I could just read my magazine in peace.] “Yes?”
T: “What are you going to be when you grow up?”
Me: “Gosh, I don’t know. For right now, I am your Mama.”
T: “You can be anything you want to be.”
Me: “Thanks, baby.”
I think I mostly am what I want to be, but it’s nice to have her support. And it is nice that we are doing something right. She has gotten the message: She can be anything she wants to be.
Good Day Sunshine
Monday, February 22nd, 2010Woke up yesterday with a slight headache, but once I had lunch I felt fine. Spent the whole day outside with the family. Todd (finally) put up my Bulldog bird feeder. I moved Eddie Rabbit back to the edge of the treeline in the backyard, so that he will peek out at us on the patio. We cleaned the patio off, and I moved my new planters where I wanted them. We put out more birdfeed. Checked on the hydrangea I put in (it was one of my birthday gifts). Hung some wind chimes. Todd cleared out a huge section of our ivy and some ugly bushes (no idea what they are, but neither of us particularly like them). Talked about ideas for bed plantings in the future. Looked at bulbs starting to poke up through the ground. Oohed and aahhhed over the yellow crocus popping up around my Redbud. Picked up sticks. Poured pea gravel in the walk near the garage where we get a lot of runoff.
All the while, the kiddos ran around doing a “scavenger hunt” in the yard that I set up before we started. Then, Todd showered and we took the kids to St. Bede’s for some bike riding. One thing I hate about my house is that my street is a cut-through and jerks drive over the hill two houses up from me so fast that the kids wouldn’t have time to get out of the way of a car speeding. Our driveway is too steep to really ride. So, we take them to the park, or to the cul-de-sac up the street to ride. St. Bede’s is the best, though. A large, flat, shaded parking lot where the kids can ride in big sweeping circles. Rollie has gotten great at riding without the training wheels and Tiller is a daredevil with her training wheels. She almost flips that bike over three or four times whenever we take her out. It is gut-wrenching and thrilling to watch them.
Came back home, had a beer while grilling chicken and asparagus, and then ate that with scalloped potatoes. Yum.
Good day. My kids watched ZERO television yesterday. I LOVE warm weather.
Bossy and Stubborn
Friday, February 5th, 2010This story will not surprise anyone who knows Rollie and me well. Rollie and I? We are just alike in so many ways. We can be a little intense. Focused to the point of obsession about things we enjoy doing. (God forbid you ask us a question while we are reading.) We don’t like to be told what to do. We are brilliant and attractive. (Okay, I just stuck in that last part.) What does this mean?
It means we fight like cats and dogs.
I know it sounds silly that I would argue with a six-year-old, but you haven’t argued until you have argued with Rollie. He really keeps me on my toes. Some days he gets the best of me. Some days he makes me cry. Some days I wonder whether he even loves me.
Last night, though, we got into an argument so absurd that it sent me into a fit of giggles. We were reading a book before bed. One of those Berenstain Bears books from Chick-fil-A. You can say whatever you want about Truett Cathy, but big props to him for not sticking another cheap, crappy plastic toy into the kids’ meals, and instead opting to give kids books. What a novel idea! Get it? Novel? I’ll be here all week, folks.
So, we are sitting on my bed like we do every night. Todd or I will sit in the middle, and Tiller and Rollie sit on either side. We still make a point to read to both of them, even though Rollie can read himself. We figure Tiller needs to get the same amount of reading that Rollie received in his first years. It is surprising how shafted the second child gets sometimes, and the way that the first child will complete tasks, sentences, and answers for the younger one, preventing the younger one from having to learn for themselves. After we read, Rollie will sometimes go into his room and read a chapter book on his own, until we make him turn out his light. (This also is absolutely nothing like me. I swear.) While we are reading with Tiller, though, Rollie will stop us if he doesn’t know a word, and we will define it for him, then continue reading.
So, last night, I was reading along, and came to the word “obstinate.” Rollie stopped me, but instead of asking what it meant, he said, “I already know what obstinate means. It means ‘bossy.'” (It’s always “I already know” with this kid – you can’t tell him anything.)
Me: “That’s great that you know this word, but it actually means ‘stubborn.'”
Rollie: “No, it means, ‘bossy.’ Mrs. Anderson told me so.”
Mrs. Anderson is his teacher, and she is awesome. She is also very smart and I figure that she knows the meaning of obstinate, and Rollie probably just heard her wrong.
Me: “Baby, you are really close to the meaning, but it means ‘stubborn.'”
Rollie: “No, it means ‘bossy’ and I know I am right.”
He got the unshakeable look to his face that he gets. It is a kind of “discussion over, I am not listening to you anymore, finger in my ears, singing loudly” set to his jaw. It kind of scares me. Meanwhile, Tiller is picking up the book that I had set down in my lap and is fingering through it, looking bored with the whole discussion. I realize we might be there all night.
Me: “Okay, well, it means ‘stubborn.’ You just look it up in your dictionary when you get to your room.” (Way to get the last word, Mom, I think to myself.)
Rollie: “I don’t have to look it up, because I know that it means “bossy.””
I am not sure whether the next part is due to my desire to help Rollie learn, or my desire to always be right. Not pretty, but it is probably the latter. I pick up my iPhone and google “obstinate definition.” I click on the Merriam-Webster link that comes up. I show it to Rollie. It reads:
ob·sti·nate
adj.
1. Stubbornly adhering to an attitude, opinion, or course of action; obdurate.
2. Difficult to manage, control, or subdue; refractory.
3. Difficult to alleviate or cure: an obstinate headache.
Rollie: “Well, that’s wrong. I know it means “bossy.”
Me: “Stubborn.”
Rollie: “Bossy.”
Tiller, wailing: “When are we going to finish the book?”
Me: “You’re right Tiller, let’s read.”
I begin to read, thinking about the argument with Rollie, and the fact that it was over the word ‘obstinate,’ and then i get the giggles. I can barely read the words in the book for the giggles, and the kids start giggling too, because how funny is it that Mama can’t stop giggling?
They ask why I am laughing. I tell them, “because it is funny that Mama and Rollie were arguing over whether the word obstinate means bossy or stubborn. Tiller, you can just call Rollie and me Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.”
You can call us that, too. Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.
The Bright Side of Puking
Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010Tiller’s got the pukes. It all started Sunday before last, with Rollie having no appetite. Any parent worth their salt knows that when a kid has no appetite for something that they usually scarf down, then you will be dealing with puke within 24 hours. It is a law of nature.
Rollie was out of school five days last week. He had only one puke incident, but then had a fever for six days straight. He felt better on Friday (just in time for the weekend!). Tiller fell sick on Sunday night. Same thing. No appetite, fever, a little puke. Both kids also have a cough with this thing.
This sounds crazy, but I kind of like it when my kids are sick. No, i hate to see them scared or puking, and I hate the getting up two or three times a night to soothe them, and clean puke and change sheets, or to lie awake listening to them cough and worry about pneumonia or freak bacterial infections. Not that part.
But when they are sick, I am reminded how very much I love them, and how I couldn’t bear it if something happened to one of them. I am reminded that I am lucky that they are so healthy. Now that they are older, they don’t want to sit in my lap as often, or snuggle on the couch. I am chopped liver. But when they are sick? They want me, need me, even.
I am reminded of one time when Rollie was sick. He was about 18 months or two years, probably. He came into the kitchen where Todd and i were standing, and he looked just pitiful, and then he started throwing up. He had that panicky look that little kids get when they are vomiting. They don’t understand what is happening to them, and they feel like they are choking, and their eyes are begging you to fix it. Todd grabbed a towel, while I got down on my knees and pulled Rollie into my lap. His little fists were clinging to me, and he was puking all over the both of us, and the whole time it was happening, all i could think of was that there was not another person on earth whom I would let sit on my lap and puke all over me.
I was thinking, There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing.
Sometimes I Miss The Baby Days
Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010
No, I didn’t take this. It was probably my mom or dad. And no, it’s not me. It’s my sister, Lisa. Really reminds me a lot of my nephew Dash, though, so thought i would post it for her.
Also, see that jacket? I am such a packrat that I kept it and Rollie and Tiller wore it, too. You could get tetanus from that metal zipper, but my Mom and I like to live parenthood on the edge. See how she gave Lisa that sucker and made her climb the chair with it in her mouth? I have always wanted to daredevil parent just like her.
I miss those days when the Tills was little and I had a patio out the screen door of my kitchen. Her hair looks better these days, though.
Yes, this post makes no sense at all. None. This is what happens when I start looking at baby pictures. My brain gets scrambled by the cuteness and the nostalgia.
Rainy Sunday, Good Times
Monday, January 25th, 2010With all the rain over the weekend, we were about to go nuts at Chez Dogwood. We decided to get out for the day, weather be damned!
First, we went to Dim Sum at Canton House. One of the best parts of our new neighborhood is its proximity to really great, diverse, and cheap food on Buford Highway. Buford Highway is just an absolute festival of delights. Love it.
Dim Sum is great with the kiddos, because it’s a fun way to get them to try things they haven’t had before, what with all the choices and them being able to take a look at things before we order them, and carts. Carts are fun! Also, Canton House has crazy big chandeliers and there’s nothing that says “fancy” to kids like chandeliers. Rollie tried both clams and squid, which i had my doubts either of them would try. Couldn’t get Tiller to eat a clam, but she put away the squid like there was no tomorrow. Rollie is definitely the more adventurous eater, though, and he loved the dumplings and the tofu roll that we gave him.
After that, we headed back out into the rain and over to Plaza Fiesta for the indoor playground. PF is a mall frequented by the Hispanic population in Atlanta. It is AWESOME. I love going in a place and having it be like a completely different country. Everything in Spanish and English (but mostly Spanish). Churro stands. Tacos and Mexican bakery in their food court, even with Univision and Soccer on the TVs. Tiller loves all the dolls on display, the cheap and frilly cake toppers, and the Quinceanara dresses. She walked up to two on display and asked me “Which ones are they, Mama?” “Which what?” I said. “Princesses. Which Princesses are these?” I told her all the little girls get to be Princess for a day. Me? I like the creepy baby angels and Jesus statues. This is also the place to go for your cowboy wear. I love the older guys walking around in cowboy hats and boots and belt buckles, like it was the southwest. It even has an open tattoo parlor. (The reviews on Yelp say all of this much better than I ever could.)
After that, we headed over to Buford Highway Farmer’s Market. Love this place, as the people watching is stellar, it is clean, and they have an awesome selection. It makes me want to cook fresh yummy stuff. Which Todd did last night. We bought our hot tortillas for a buck, and made steak tacos with fresh pico de gallo and guacamole. So yummy. I even made up a tequila drink to go with it. (We were out of mixer and Triple Sec, so i used oranges, lime, and sugar, and dressed it with a slice of Starfruit. I named it the Lone Star.)
All in all a good day that ended not so great, when it became apparent that Rollie didn’t feel good. He felt warm and wanted to go to sleep before dinner. Woke up with a headache and a 102+ fever. Poor kid. And doesn’t it always figure that they get sick on your day off? Tiller has school Monday/Wednesday/Friday, so of course Rollie comes down sick Monday morning. Usually, I would get a couple hours to myself. Today, I have both the boys here. Guess I should just be thankful and give hugs and kisses to my Rolls and my Toddler.
Here are some pictures from our Sunday adventures.
The Bigass Bulldog Birdhouse Birthday
Friday, January 22nd, 2010Why, yes . . . yes, I did get a $100 dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse for my birthday. Funny story behind that, which I will get to in a moment. But first, I have to say that I had a lovely morning, getting to sleep late, which for people with kids means eight a.m. (Screw you, childless folk.)
I woke up to Todd and Tiller climbing in bed with me (Rollie had already caught the bus), and Todd doing a darn good version of The Beatles’ “Birthday,” with Tiller grinning like a cheshire cat and a cup of coffee materializing on my bedside table.
Coffee. In. Bed.
Then I was informed that I should finish my coffee get dressed and go downstairs. I did, and I found this:
Hundred dollar Georgia Bulldog birdhouse with hydrangea and cards.
I was a little caught off guard. That is one big ass bulldog birdhouse. Did the Tiger husband really buy me a bulldog birdhouse? Is this a joke? (Also, let’s be honest. While I am a bulldog fan, I don’t want to be those people. You know, the ones who have UGA everything. That being said, if those folks at the lake ever die, I am so going to try to buy their huge Bulldog statue they have in front of their cabin, right on the lake.)
We opened the very sweet cards from the kids and Todd, and I oohed and aahhed over the birdhouse and the hydrangea. I asked Todd, “Am i really allowed to put the birdhouse in the yard?” It seemed to pain him as he replied, “yes, baby, you just tell me where.”
“Where on earth did you get it?” I asked.
“Echo’s garage!” Tiller replied with glee. “Echo” is what Tiller calls Mr. Echols, the old man who lives next door to us. Some things you just don’t correct, because they are too cute.
I stared at Todd and then the truth came out.
Mr. Echols likes to show us stuff in his yard. He has a friend, who made him a couple of birdhouses, huge wooden deals, kind of more on the side of what Todd and I call, “Country Christian” or “Ducks in Bonnets” style than cool and funky folk art Finster-style birdhouses. Meaning, not exactly what I would choose, but neat enough.
So, Echo was showing Todd the birdhouses and telling him about the friend who makes them, and all the different styles he makes. “He also makes Georgia Bulldog birdhouses,” he said.
Todd replied, “Oh, Anne would love that!” Being polite, you know.
So, a few days before Christmas, Mr. Echols pulled Todd aside to show him my new birdhouse. That’s right. He just went ahead and had the guy make me the birdhouse. FOR A HUNDRED DOLLARS.
Todd had already bought me Christmas gifts, and he didn’t want to hurt Echo’s feelings, so he decided the birdhouse would be my birthday gift.
And what a gift it is. . . I will never look at that birdhouse without thinking that my husband, the Auburn Tiger, is sweet enough to just cough up the hundred bucks so as not to hurt Echo’s feelings, and that he loves me enough to put up a bigass Bulldog backyard birdhouse for me.
Already this birthday is pretty bitchin.’ Thanks, Toddler!
My Favorite Girls
Thursday, January 21st, 2010My daughter and my sister. Happened to snap shots of both of them recently that I really liked. Normally, i would include my Mom in this, but the only good photo I have taken of her lately had me, with all 40 of my chins, wrapped all around her.
Tiller never smiles for the camera and is always goofy, so I was happy to get this calm shot today.
And my sister, in our hotel room in Knoxville last weekend.
More of my recent photos for the terminally bored can be found here.
Snow Day
Friday, January 8th, 2010Lots of fun in the snow today!
All bundled up and ready for the snow.
Frolicking
Are we done yet?
Taking a rest from the frolic.
Possibly getting a little too action shot for me and my camera.
It's so cold i can't feel my face. Hahahahaha.
Serious. And Goofy
More frolic.
Alright, Malex, now you pissed me off.