Baptizing Betty

Betty White has been part of the family now for a little over two months, and so far (knock on wood) she's maintained her pristine appearance.  Considering we drove off the lot with a brand new Murray the Murano, pulled into the gas station across the street to fill him up, and slammed the door into a concrete pillar, I didn't have high hopes for Betty.  And let's face it - I kind of suck at driving.  So I think we are all surprised to see her with no dings today.

The inside of the car?  That's a different story.

Way back two weeks ago on vacation, we were enjoying our time as a family.  Despite several issues with our boat, we welcomed our college friends the Zywicki's to our cabin and enjoyed July 4th.

July 5th, three of them woke up with the stomach flu.  Eek.

Luckily it was a short-lived virus and 12 hours later, they were in decent shape.  The rest of us tried to keep the Ralphing to our name only (haha, I'm so funny) but every time the kids even burped I freaked out that they were coming down with the flu.  On the way home we stopped for coffee and as I came out of the gas station all I could see was Jay flipping paper towels in the air and I could hear both kids crying.  I don't think I need to repeat the words that went through my head.

Turns out, no one barfed. But Betty WAS desecrated.  With root beer.

Addi opened her sippy cup, which had become pressurized.  And it started spraying everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  And she kept holding it, while she and Sam sat there, strapped into their car seats, crying as it rained sticky sweetness all over them.  I think the cup only sprayed for 15 seconds but there was root beer all over the backseat, in the sunroof, on the dashboard, in the front window, on the steering wheel...  Jay and I stood there for at least 10 minutes wiping it all up and I know we missed a few hundred spots.

I am grateful that a little root beer is all that has happened to Betty to date.  I'm also quite grateful we chose the car with black interior. 

Super Sam

There is a halfway decent chance that Samantha is part camel. That girl will drink at least two full glasses of milk or water before bed, plus drink water during the night when she wakes up, and still not wet the bed. It’s definitely a super power in our house – momma hates changing wet sheets.

I was concerned about her teeth being harmed but her dentist said as long as it’s just milk or water he’s ok with her drinking habit so Jay and I have given her the go ahead. Heck, I drink at least 24 oz of water each night so who am I to stop her?

Last night Sam woke up and wanted more to drink. Because I was already in bed I had her climb in with me, then offered her some of my water. She flat our refused, saying she wanted juice. I said, No, water. She said, No, juice. And so on. After several rounds of this she changed her request to milk. I said, No, water. She started crying, but the dentist SAID I could have water OR milk, and I want milk! I love milk!

Fast forward a few more minutes and Sam had been placed gently in her bed, all the while kicking and yelling about more moo juice. After a few MORE minutes she changed it up slightly. “PLEASE can I have more milk? Can I have more milk PLEASE!?” Seeing as how my alarm was set for 4:30 am, Jay took pity on me and finally got her some milk, partially because she said please, but mostly because we were just so tired. Sam came to my room, sniffling but triumphant, and said, “I said please a bunch of times Mommy.”

Apparently her OTHER super power will be negotiation skills.

The Electric Slide

One of the nice things about our resort in northern Wisconsin was the playground. Not only did the girls play there every night, but they took after their mom and made friends right away.  Turns out the cabin next door to us was filled with people from central Illinois, including their kids.

And being the trendsetter that she is, Samantha forever changed the meaning for us of "The Electric Slide."

Pretty electric, huh?

Vacation, in her eyes

 

Wisconsin 2012

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Like Mother, Like Daughter

Last Christmas we finally caved and bought Addison an American Girl Doll she had wanted for awhile. Expensive? Extremely. Worth it? Debatable. Her favorite toy? On some days for sure. We basically gave in because of peer pressure and too many parties where everyone else had an AG and Addi was left out. And she plays with it a lot, changing it’s name depending on her mood that day and yelling at us when we dare call her by the wrong moniker. Dolls have feelings too, you know.

We have found a lot of less expensive clothes and accessories for her doll Jenny at stores like Walmart and Kmart, and even have found matching PJs for her and Isabel, so the cost of ownership isn’t that bad. But what sets the American Girl dolls apart in my mind and makes them worth the money is their hair. I’m totally serious when I say that. Their hair is amazing. Brushes great, fun to play with, and given the opportunity I’d totally take her hair over mine any day.

Now, it might seem weird to be obsessed with a dolls hair, but when you have two girls who are not careful with their toys, you end up with ratty hair that’s impossible to brush and is terrifying to see. But not Alexis… Her hair is always perfect.

Nothing at all like Repunzel’s hair. This is what it looks like when Sam "fixes" it.

Addi agrees with me. The day I took this picture Sam brought it into my room, and Addi exclaimed, “Sam! Fix her hair, she looks homeless!”

Apparently inappropriate comments, just like a love of great hair, is hereditary.

Betty White

For some reason my kids are obsessed with minivans.  I don’t remember when it began but one day I was forced to pretend that my Murano had sliding doors and a third row seat.  Then both girls constantly asked when we were getting a minivan because they were so cool. 

Jay and I were very content with keeping my Nissan for at least another 100,000 miles.  Yes, it was a tight fit on road trips and yes, it was a little creakier after my car accident, but Murray the Murano was still a treasured member of the family and more importantly, already paid off.   Then, one day, those creaks weren’t so endearing.  Or maybe the kids just wore me down.  It was time for a minivan.

We headed out to figure out what van was really for us.  And let me tell you something - Life is so ironic.  When Jay bought his first new car out of college, it was all about the coolness of it.  He said, “What kind of engine is this? How fast does it go? Oh, you are going to royally screw me on the price too? Who cares, it’s exactly what I want!”   

The Jay of 2000 would cry seeing the Jay of today walk around the car lot, exclaiming, “Check out this one! It has Stow-and-go!”  Cry, or slap him.  One or the other.

Anyway, I was totally on board with getting a minivan.  Remote control doors? Sign me up!  I’d make a van look cool!  Then, I sat in one and I swear, a small piece of me died.  Practical? Sure.  Cool? No way.

So we test drove some.  We priced some.  And we did some research.  And a few weeks later, we drove home with Betty White. 

She comes complete with bucket seats, third row seating, DVD player, air conditioned seats, and lots of storage and all the conveniences a mom of small kids needs. Just in a much cooler package than the minivan.  And she is totally adored by me and Jay, and very much disliked by our bank account.

The kids were excited and got over their desire for a minivan.  Well, at least that’s what I thought until one Saturday I went into the basement and found this:

Sam, driving her kids in her “minivan” around the basement.

Now, SHE makes a minivan look cool.