Open Wide

I'm not a fan of going to the dentist. And yet the Responsible Gene in me forces me to go every six months (or so) and get my teeth cleaned. In my opinion, the most unpleasant part of the experience is when they are using the crazy spinning toothbrush, all the while sucking spit out of your open mouth. But I must say that you don't really notice the electrical instruments in your mouth when you are precariously dangling one leg off of the dental chair and using your toes to rock your fussing infant in her carseat. Ahh, motherhood.

Talking to Jesus

Owen (from his doorway): Mom! Mom!
Christy (appearing stage left): Yes, Owen?
Owen (staring around blankly): ummmm...Mom, my play-doh is missing
Christy (increasingly aggitated): Do you know what time it is?
Owen holds up some fingers
Christy: No, it's quiet time. What does that mean?
Owen: Mom, I'm telling you about my play-doh.
Christy: I don't want to talk about play-doh right now, it's quiet time.
Owen: I'm not talking to YOU about my play-doh...I'm talking to Geee-sus. I'm talking to Jesus about my play-doh, not you.

Girlfriends

Couldn't resist posting a cute picture too. This is Charlotte with her sister from another mother (and father), Tessa.

Another Update

We got the results from the Holt-Oram test today...normal. This, however, does not mean that she does not have Holt-Oram. Apparently, they tested the more common gene that shows Holt-Oram. There are two others. We're not sure if the doctor is going to pursue that route or look in another direction or what. Our actual genetic appointment isn't for several more weeks. At this point, we're really just looking for an explanation, so I suppose there's no need to be in a hurry. All of her other tests have come back normal, and she's a healthy, thriving little girl. "Wait" is always a hard thing to hear though. On the fussy front, losing the dairy in my diet seems to be making a huge difference. I gave myself a dairy-day two weeks ago that resulted in lots of extra screaming and a vicious diaper rash. So here's saying goodbye to tall glasses of cold milk, Dairy Queen blizzards, grilled cheese sandwiches, and pretty much every darn cookie on the cookie aisle. If you have any great recipes that don't involve dairy, please send them my way.

Pondering in the Shower

I was in the shower this morning, enjoying the hot water, not ready to get to the actual cleaning, so I decided to read the back of the shampoo bottle. It has "directions." Do you really need directions for your shampoo? Anyways, it says, "Rinse and repeat." What a thinly veiled ploy that is to get you to use more shampoo than you actually need. Which led me to think about something I read online the other day. I was on a forum for cloth diapering (granola mom alert), reading about the best washing methods, and one lady declared that, even on her regular clothes, she only uses half of the recommended amount of detergent. Her reasoning was, do you really think the detergent company would tell you the exact amount to use? Don't you think they're going to tell you to use a little more than necessary so you'll blow through their product faster and go buy more? This freaks me out a little. How many manufacturers could be lying to us?

Poop Smears

When your child poops in a little kid potty, and you've dumped it in the big potty, what do you do with the residuals? The best I can figure, you wipe it out with toilet paper. But that seems a little bit gross to me. Those little potties don't leave lots of hand-manuevering space, and I'm really not pumped about getting little poop smears on my hand. Any advice?

Happy Easter!

Scrub-a-dub-dub

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was all about getting the laundry done yesterday. I was transferring my final load to the dryer, and suddenly I thought I might be losing my mind. That's because I was staring down into the washer and, gosh darnit, that looked like my cell phone there in the bottom, hiding beneath my robe. And then it really hit me...oh my word, that's my cell phone in the washer!! Words do not adequately describe my frustration. I have now learned, however, that all hope is not lost. Many tech nerds online declare that if I let my phone sit in a warm place for three days with the battery removed, it may very well recover. So here's praying for phone healing. If you need to reach me, please send me an email or call Will.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I'm folding laundry in the bedroom. Owen is playing in his "train room" (aka the oversized laundry room which is now serving double-duty). Owen walks into the bedroom and declares, "I didn't color on the floor." I ignore this statement because I am certain that this is a giant lie, and quite honestly I just don't feel like disciplining right now. Charlotte is asleep downstairs, Owen's usual time-out spot is dangerously close to her room, and dang it, I just want to finish folding the clothes. But he is persistent. "Mom, that room is a MESS." Resignation. "Why don't you show me." As we walk to the laundry room, Owen covers his ears with his hands. This is the second time he has done this. I suppose he thinks I'm going to explode, which is interesting because I'm not really the exploding type. But as we enter the room I realize that Owen was being honest, he really had not colored on the floor, the room was indeed a MESS, and his ear covering was once again done in vain. I suppose I would have known he was telling the truth if I had just looked at him during his coloring declaration. You see, Owen always looks up when he lies. Not just a slight, sneaky glance up. Oh no, his eyes are as far up as they can possibly go. I've heard that all people usually do something with their eyes when they lie, but who would have thought that it started at three?? Hopefully he will hold onto this handy tell for many years to come.

The Beard

It just so happened that I was uploading pictures from the camera today and noticed that I had individual shots of all the Alleys (save myself). So I just couldn't resist posting one of each. The first two are, of course, me just reveling in my kids' cuteness. The last, however, leads one to wonder...why is Will taking a picture of himself? And why on earth does he have his head turned at an awkward angle? Well, dear readers, it's all about the beard. For weeks he had been growing this majestic red beard. And for weeks he had been debating with himself about shaving. It was the request from his wife to go to the beach mixed with the fear of having a strange beard-tan if he chose to shave afterwards that led to his spontaneous decision to do away with his whiskers. He was so hasty, in fact, that he had already shaved the right side of his face before he realized that he simply had to have a picture of his glorious red beard (thus the awkward head angle). And now I have to listen to him moan about the loss of said beard. The beard is always more glorious on the other side of the fence.

The Changing Mat

The changing mat is nothing special--a run-of-the-mill, slope-sided, waterproof fabriced place to change a baby's diaper. It's not on a table because something in me balks at changing her in the same place all the time. Which is probably a good thing because that has resulted in the discovery that Charlotte adores being on her changing mat (without a diaper). She will happily lay there, airing-out, two or three times a day for around half an hour. We even had friends over for dinner and let her enjoy her changing mat on the living room floor after dinner. Is that weird? Granted, these were two of our best friends, so they already know we're a little bit weird. However, it does make things difficult when you're changing her somewhere like the church nursery or a restaurant bathroom. They really frown upon you leaving your baby there to hang out.

An Apple a Day?

Picture this...you're three years old. You've been playing hard in the backyard, and now you're hungry. Your mom is preoccupied with changing your little sister's diaper, so you ask if you can get an apple. She's excited to not have to get up from the floor and says yes. As you open the refrigerator door and pull out the produce drawer, you take a good look at the apple bag. Usually, you would just grab an apple and close the refrigerator, but something occurs to you today...why not just take the whole bag? Sitting at your little table you stare at those five juicy apples and wonder, "Which apple is the best?" And then you realize, "Hey! I could just try them all." So you take a bite out of one, nope. Number two, nope. Number three, nope. Apple number four is promising, but after four or five bites, you think, "Maybe number five is better than this." And you were right. You're about halfway through number five when mom appears. Why on earth is she making that face? She seems upset. But this sure is a great apple.

Genetics

We all like answers. Sorry to say that I don't have any of those from the genetics physicians. Charlotte was scheduled for an appointment with them today, but it has been cancelled because there just isn't any point right now. They did a whole slew of tests while she was in the NICU, all of which have come back negative, save the one that we're really curious about...Holt-Oram Syndrome. It's going to be another month before the results are back. If it too is negative, well, I guess that means more tests. God is faithful though, and I can honestly say that He's giving me lots of peace about this whole situation. Thank you for your continued prayers through all of this.