My Italian Luvah or Why People Can't Get Over How Pale I Am

So, we headed back to the doctor's office today. The original errand was to pick up some micro-lipids for the baby, but while I was there I got the most use I could out of the doctor (by the way, I totally LOVE my pediatrician—she is amazing). We weighed the baby (up another 2 ounces, but not past 12 lbs. yet), diagnosed a terrible yeast rash on Daisy, got a prescription for some eye drops that we love (not at all related to the visit), and diagnosed Ivory with yet another ear infection (I guess she was able to will herself another one for some more pink medicine after all).

But what was really funny to me was the conversation I had in the waiting room. The receptionist was watching Ivory run around and was exclaiming over my cute baby (this is normal procedure; Daisy draws a crowd wherever she goes).

Receptionist: So, is your husband brown, because it seems like both your girls have more of an olive complexion?

Me: No, although he does tan well, where I just burn. My second child has my fair skin, but these two seem to have more of an olive tone.

Receptionist: And look at their dark eyes...is your husband Italian?

At this point I was called back to see the doctor so I wasn't able to give this curt remark:

Me: Nope, he is just a normal Caucasian man, but I can see you are having problems believing these are really my children since they don't have my deathly pale vampire skin or my light eyes, but I promise they really did come from my womb...savvy?

Dear God,
Can my next child please have blue eyes, so I can claim one of my children. Oh, and God, I don't wish this pale skin on anyone, so you can still send them with that cool olive stuff.

She Had a Bad Day

I realized as I wrote the title that there are so many girls in this family that you might need some clarification, as to which 'she' I am talking about.
Unfortunately, it was Daisy's turn today.
We got ready for church as usual. Tyler was speaking, so I was already gearing myself up to have all four kids with no help. Women do it all the time, so I figured I could stick it out for one day. And truthfully, the kids weren't too bad while we were in the Chapel. It was just when we decided to leave for a moment.
I was sitting there singing the opening hymn, and I looked over at Ivory and realized that she was in panties today (she still goes back and forth between diapers and underwear, depending on the mood she is in), and that she hadn't used the bathroom since earlier that morning. This meant that she was a ticking time bomb, liable to go off at any moment. I briefly contemplated trying to last through Sacrament meeting, but visions of a wet pew quickly banished that idea. Next problem... I had Daisy and no Dad to hand her to (since he was up on the stand). I thought about handing her to a friend, or maybe June could watch her for a minute. I was thinking about these options as I leaned over to tell the girls that after the song I was going to take Ivory potty, and Robyn chimed in with a, "Oh, I need to go potty too." Fine, we will just take everyone. So after the song, we all filed out. Robyn goes by herself but Ivory needs a bit of help still. I balanced the baby on one knee, and held up her dress. Robyn finished up and Ivory wanted a wipe. I just didn't have the hands I needed, so I put the baby up on the counter and asked Robyn to make sure she didn't roll off.
Six seconds later, I regretted that decision. I was pulling up underwear and I hear the baby start to cry and I turn around to see her on the floor. (!@#!@^&^@#) I'd like to say that I was an understanding mother who didn't make the second child feel like dirt for letting her baby sister fall on the ground (not so much), so shortly there were two children crying (I apologized later). I never would have left her there with the baby if I didn't think she could handle it. It seemed simple...don't let baby roll off. If she rolls toward edge, push her back. For heaven sakes, she only weighs 11 lbs, she can't be that hard to move. Regardless, the damage was done, and it wasn't that serious. Daisy had a rosier cheek on one side, and some hurt feelings which I swiftly cuddled away.
The only good news is that Tyler is thrilled that he doesn't have to worry about being the first person to drop the baby (it has been him with the other three—and when I say 'drop' it usually means 'rolled off the couch' or something like that. I didn't want you people, who have seen Tyler toss our children around, to think he is not responsible).

For Every Up, There Is a Down

It rained yesterday! Rain is not snow, so I think that is good.

I can see half of my lawn again since some of the snow melted.

I went outside without a jacket and didn't have to amputate any limbs.

I took my kids for a bike ride.


. . .


I think I just found a tick in my house.

Landscape Photos

I have been working hard in my photo class. Our first assignment was landscape. I don't know if I have the skill for landscape, but here are a couple that I don't hate. These were taken down at Utah Lake.



This is the one I am turning in for a grade. I really like the sun peeking through the branches.



And then of course, I printed a couple of my favorite subject. I probably want to redo the first one a little lighter.



It was fun to develop the one of Daisy, because everyone was doing trees and landscapes today, so there was this random picture of a baby mixed in and everyone was oooohhing over it. Okay, I can be a little proud of my cute baby right??

Our next assignment is portrait. Excellent. An excuse to take another whole roll of my kids.

Flattered

She's cute, isn't she? I like her a lot, and apparently, she likes me too. I know we get along famously, because she laughs at almost all my jokes and we are attached at the hip (literally). In fact, I just want to eat her up (look at me trying in this picture).



I kind of felt this way with all my babies, but Daisy is the first one who seems to really care when I am gone. With all my children, there have been brief moments of separation anxiety, but I don't remember it happening this young.
I volunteer in June's class twice a month and that means an hour without Daisy (or I guess in her eyes, an hour without Mom). I think of her as such a mellow, pleasant child, that I am always surprised to hear that she cried a bit, or that she was not happy. Deanne mentioned that she did well today (only five or so minutes of crying), but when I dropped her off a second time in one day, I think she had had enough. I was only gone twenty minutes and I came back to find her bawling (sorry Sunny, thanks for loving on her anyway). I think she was honestly sad/mad that I left again.
So this is a bit new to me. I am sure she will grow out of it quickly, I say somewhat glumly. After all, it is flattering to be so loved.



By the way, I am adoring these little leggings I got her.

A conversation while watching the dog go to the bathroom...

Robyn: It seems she only pees and poops.

Me: Do you do more?

Robyn: Uh-huh....throw-up.


There you have it. The wise words of a four year old. Should I tell her that dogs throw-up too?

Do You Ear What I Ear?

Ivory is funny. She LOVES medicine. I'm not sure if she just feels special when she gets a little extra attention when we take her aside to give her medicine, or if she really thinks it works, but she loves the stuff. When she had a bit of a cough the other week, we were putting Vick's Vapor Rub on her feet and chest at night. Well, several nights later, she came crying out of bed because we had forgotten her 'feet medicine'.

"Honey, you don't have a cough anymore," I explained. But that didn't stop her asking for it for several more evenings.

Then she got an ear infection, poor duck. She was very unhappy about the whole thing, but the pink medicine made it all worth it. She was thrilled to get it day and night (you all remember the pink amoxicillin—it really did taste good).



But all good things come to an end and she was very sad when there was no more medicine. She talked about going back to the doctor and getting more, and I really think if she could have willed herself to have another ear infection, she just might have.

Perhaps her willing went astray, because only days later, Robyn got an ear infection. She didn't plan hers as well, and we ended up going to InstaCare on a weekend instead of seeing our normal doctor. And being on that subject, why do Pharmacies open an hour later on Sunday? If you are going to be open, just BE OPEN. Why save yourself an extra hour of sleep and confuse all the people who are used to the pharmacy opening at 9:00 (do I sound bitter?).

And so begins the regimen of Robyn's day and night medicine. I hope Ivory doesn't get too jealous.