The Nunez in Texas: Mommy's and Daddy's old photos

"A esta pedorra le das la mano y se toma el pie" ~ Karla Rendón.

I have no translation in English for the quote above. But it would be a saying like, um, like when you try to help someone, but they take advantage of you. Literally the saying says that you offer them your hand, but they take your foot. And this applies to Elizabeth. I told that saying to my sister today as a joke referring to a letter my mom wrote me about a month ago.

For whatever reason one day my mom and I ended up talking on Skype about my children, and how I am trying to make them sleep in their rooms. I said that I will never let Elizabeth or Enzo sleep with us on a regular basis. I didn't mean anything bad, you know, like when they are scared of monsters, if that ever happens. There are exceptions, but we didn't discuss it anymore that day. And so she wrote me a beautiful letter. I'll translate some of what she wrote, so that my children one day will be able to see how Nana loved them, and was thinking of them, and praying for them.

My mom and me thirty years ago

"... I'm writing this to you because it is important. It is important for me because I love you and Emerson, and the children. Your dad and I have experienced this before and we know better. I've been thinking about what you said, about not letting Libby sleep with you, and you making her go back to her bed. It may be normal for you to act that way because you are tired of being all day with them, and you just want to rest, be with your husband and enjoy your intimacy... and all that. But let me tell you that there is a way and a time for everything.

Libby and Enzo, they don't know... they just want your protection and your guidance. How do you know if they are afraid, or if they feel alone in the middle of the night? Maybe they just want to be with you. Please, be patient with them. Little by little they will learn to be on their own. Help them to not lose their self-esteem. Eventually they will be autonomous, but don't reject them if they look for you, especially at night."

Me :)

Jacobo Sauer, aka "Chochobo"

Then she went on and on about how much she loves me :) Oh, and also about how Libby and Enzo need to go to school, instead of being home schooled, since not all in this life is just knowledge and rules. They need to be able to hang out with children their age on a regular basis, which I agree with. I can't imagine my childhood without going to school.

Anyway... I got that email on my cell phone at one in the morning abut a month ago. It woke me up. Later my dad said they didn't send it at that time. My mom and I have these issue, she has this issue... about telling me what to do and not to do all the time. I think that is the root of all screams and fights, and the raising of our voices - my sister's, my mom's and mine. She is very opinionated, and once she gives you her opinion, she keeps giving it, and giving it, and giving it. We used to fight a lot on Skype, but not anymore, I realized that lately. I don't know, I don't get upset about it anymore, I guess. I do raise my voice a lot still... but we are not fighting or arguing, she just doesn't hear what I say, really, she has a hearing problem.

Long faces

More long faces for Susana

Jeff told me the other day we have the children we have because God is getting even with us for what we did to our parents. Of course it was a joke. Yeah, the joke was on me!! Just with Libby lately... she yells at me for everything. If she doesn't like something I do or don't do, or if she is upset, she says, "No, Mommy. NO! NO! NO!" And then I put her in a time out for yelling, and she gets worse, and I want to laugh when she yells at me, and sometimes I have laughed to her face.

Seriously, she makes me so nervous... Emerson knows this... I laugh when I am terribly, terribly nervous. I am going to have to start turning around, otherwise she'll think I'm laughing at her pain or frustration at the moment. But she gets so upset for every single detail that doesn't go according to her expectations. I don't even have expectations for her, you know, I think she is the most wonderful daughter in the freaking world. The same goes for Enzo.

I love them with all my heart just because they are mine. God gave them to me for a while to love them, and train them in the way they should go. And I adore them no matter what. But I get that. I struggle with that, I struggle with acceptance. I feel I need to be good for people to love me. I get disappointed at things because I didn't do this or that perfectly. Nobody expects anything from me, or I guess I expect more from myself than what others actually expect of me. And so I am my worst critic. Not even God is asking me to be perfect, because of course I can't.

The kitchen

(Mommy at 12 months)

And so my heart breaks when I see Libby acting this way. Enzo couldn't care less for now. He doesn't eat the books I put in front of him anymore, but I still don't see any personality traits in him that will make me shiver... yet. He wants to walk so badly, but he refuses to. He gets all tall and straight, but he doesn't take a step forward on his own. Ok, so... my brain is scattered for the little sleep I got last night.

Yes, the letter... it backfired on me. I know what my mom meant was to be available for my child, which I am, and always will be. And so last night I hear this scary -really scary- scream at the top of Libby lungs, "My caaaaaaat!!" or "My coooow" - I can't remember which. Emerson said he heard, "My baaaaaag!"

I jumped out of bed, I didn't even think about it twice. Other times, I hear noises from Libby or Enzo crying for about two minutes, and then they go back to sleep, but this was something else. So I jump out of bed, Enzo is crying, and Libby is already in the living room. I ask her if she is okay, and she says yes. I ask her if she had a bad dream, and she says yes. I ask her if she wants to sleep with me, in my bed, and she says yes. And then, I think, "Maybe she is really scared, and she needs to be with us, like my mom said."

Bad, bad idea.

This is her baaaag she won at HEB

I tell her that Daddy is asleep, and that she needs to be quiet, and go to sleep, and she says yes. I put her in the middle of the bed, and as she is touching the pillow, she is like, "Heeey, Daaaadyyyy!!", and starts patting Emerson on the head.

This is not going to work.

I tell her we have to sleep in the living room, but once we are there with pillows and all, she doesn't stop talking about the cows, and the cats, and the cookies she bakes, and her bag she got at HEB, and I'm all about listening, but later when it's the morning. It's 3 am, she needs to be quiet. I ask her if she is ready to go to her bed, and she says yes. And then we go, we pray and when I leave, she starts crying again. And Enzo almost wakes up again.

So I'm here in the couch with her and she doesn't get quiet, and I'm just threatening her with taking her to her room, and then she stops, and starts again. Then she falls from the couch, and then I put her on the inside of the couch, and she gets upset, and then I change positions, so that she is on one extreme and I'm on the other extreme - our legs facing each other. And I'm trying to close my eyes, and when I open them she is not on the couch anymore, she is about to turn on the piano. I yell at her, and I tell her we are not going to BSF in the morning if she doesn't go to sleep, and then she starts crying, "We gooo, we goooo!!", and then I say, "Well, then, be quiet and go to sleep".

Chicken leg

Duckie face

More chicken :)

At some point in time, she is kissing my feet, and her toes are in my groin... and I am about to cry, because she is loud, trying to jump on the couch, and she doesn't stop talking.

Mommy's night nights. Daddy's night nights. Enzo's night nights. The cow poops. Enzo pooped. I peed. Mommy, change my diaper, please, Mommy!!! Cállate, Elizabeth, que vas a despertar a Enzo. Enzo woke up. Green eggs and ham, by Dr. Seuss. Dr. Seuss. B-Y. D-R. S-E-U-S-S-S. Ham. Eggs and ham. I make cookies. Mommy cooks. Nena, I'm tired, please go to sleep or I'm taking you to your room. Do you want to go to your bed? No, Mommy. Then go to sleep. Mommy, I needdddd, I need water. Wate-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-rrr.

This pattern of conversation went on and on until 6 am probably, when I crashed. Emerson kissed me in the morning, I don't know what time it was when he left, but Libby had gone to sleep only thirty minutes before that. I woke up when I heard Enzo crying, don't know what time it was, but I couldn't move because Libby was all over my legs. And I just waited, and waited, and heard Enzo crying, and crying... she finally woke up at 8:30 am. We didn't go to BSF, of course. By 8:30 am we usually are about to leave the house. I made a smoothie for them, and coffee for me. And we had pancakes for breakfast. Hopefully she won't get the idea this has to happen every night in order to get pancakes...

I seriously need to rest for about 20 minutes... It's 4 pm, and everybody is napping, except me.

Throwing little rocks

Matthew 4:19

Nop. I didn't nap, in case you were wondering. Of course we didn't go to BSF, as I said. We did sign up Libby up for a race. Every time we go to BSF or MOPS (both are at the same church), we pass this other church that is organizing a race to raise money for couples who want to adopt. I got into the website Wednesday night because I wanted to run the 5K. Good Lord!! Thirty five bucks for running 3.2 miles? I can run that on a daily basis without having to pay that amount of money!!

Anyway... this is why I never run those kind of races, because I'm cheap. Well, no. I am not cheap. I have bought expensive stuff; stuff that is worth it in my eyes, like the running stroller. That double stroller was something I wouldn't have bought if I hadn't been going crazy inside the house all day long without a car and a baby. Plus my mom paid for more than half of it :)

So here I am complaining how expensive the race was, and I saw that they are holding a 1 K for children, and I signed Libby up for it. She is amazing and she will do great. I've never measure how long we walk on a regular basis, but now that we've been training, she is able to run/walk 0.4 mi (600 m) in about 12 minutes. I was so excited I was even willing to pay the $18, but Emerson was also so excited that he picked up the tab. And she is gonna get a medal!!! A medal for running 1 kilometer!! I am so freaking excited!! She is gonna be so happy!!

And this is why I fell... bad sister

Mommy "smiling"

Big eyes

"Huechicho"

More huechicho

I honestly think my daughter's love language is words of affirmation. She loves to hear us encouraging her. Her confidence in herself for getting a medal (please remember she is a 2 year-old) because she put the effort to train, run, and finish a race will increase. I'm telling you, this deserves a post on its own. I'm already working on it. I can make as many drafts in this blog thing as I want. I'm recording videos of our training, photos, how she runs with Daddy, the works... and obviously I'm saving the very best -the actual race- for then, too. I'll keep you, guys, posted.

So tonight after dinner (and after our first training with Daddy) I went to Target. I took care of everybody, gave them dinner, washed their private parts, and put on their pajamas. I was free for almost three hours!! Relatively free, because freedom never comes to this lady as a bargain. I'll explain why in a minute. Anyway... I've been buying some new clothes lately, mostly because I don't have anything to wear - which in my case is totally true. When we moved to Houston, I came with almost no clothes. All my clothes were really, really old, from college and even before that.

Enzo walking

Two months later I was pregnant, and all I wore were maternity clothes. After Libby was born, I didn't get to buy new clothes because I wanted to lose weight before buying anything. So I kept on wearing maternity clothes. Once I lost the weight I got pregnant again, ha! Then, Enzo wasn't much of a spitter, like Libby was, but what's the use of nice clothing if your children are always pooping, and pulling on you with their messy hands?

Honestly, I'm dishing on my MOPS girlfriends. It's just not real how they get to wear all those nice dresses all the time. I'm almost convinced they just dress like that for those meetings. Kate Barr enforces this idea. We talked tonight while I was shopping, and she says she is lucky when she gets a shower, and that she never wears make up. Ethan also told her (as Emerson told me) she is always wearing rags, and that she should buy some nice clothes. But she says, "Why? Why would I do that? Probably just to wear when I'm NOT with my children!". Then she goes to Target to buy cheap clothes, like I did.

Playing with paper

Then we talked about preschool, and how Kahl was reading by the time he was four, and that she has a neighbor who's a teacher, but her child doesn't even know how to read. Kahl reads better, and he is actually to grades lower than this other child, so she is happy and relieved that she is not sending the twins to preschool. Kahl never learned anything there, but he had fun doing crafts. I said Libby gets so excited every time we go to BSF because they let her play with Play Dough. We couldn't figure out why the neighbor pays $500 for her child to go to this preschool and do activities, if she can just go to a MOPS meeting, and have the child do crafts, or whatever.

Then I said that maybe we are just so invested in our children. We actually cook from scratch most of the things we eat, and we pull our hairs out, and cry in the bathroom when we've had it. We go to the park and go down the slide with them, so, yeah... why in the world would I need nice clothes to get dirty on the slide? That's what we wondered together on the phone. We also talked about how embarrassed I am that the teachers at Libby's class keep on asking me if she ate breakfast because she devours goldfish every time we go.

Daddy as a baby

Are you kidding me? This morning, one hour before being here, she had half a cup of oatmeal with yogurt, and 8 oz of milk with half a banana - more than I actually had. She likes goldfish because I never buy them so they are a treat.

And Kate said she never buys them, either. So I didn't feel as a freak anymore, being the only mom I know who doesn't give her child goldfish as a snack. A snack in our house is apples, with cottage cheese, and honey. Then we talked about coupons, and how she hates these women who tell her she should coupon because she would save so much money. But she doesn't have three hours to be looking for these deals, and she needs to go to one single store to buy all her groceries. She cannot go to different stores looking for the best prices. I told her Emerson was doing that, but he didn't save that much money a month. She was glad I told her that because now she will have Ethan off her back. Thirty dollars a month is not worth it in our eyes. It's just such a hassle to put them inside the car, take them out, put them inside the shopping cart, taking them out, etc, etc, etc...

Plus I mention that I had tried looking for coupons, but all the coupons I see are for crap. You know, soda, chips, mac and cheese. Not that I won't ever eat mac and cheese, but we don't eat it on a regular basis. She agreed. She called mac and cheese one of her emergency meals. Just like hotdogs are for me. We were living on emergency meals the whole past month that Emerson did the shopping...

Chucho "El Roto" jail

I think I was three years old

Same angry facial expression in my 30's

Sad because they made me leave the pool

I'm posting all these random photos of myself because I brought them back with me when we went to Mexico. My dad wanted me to scan them for him, but I didn't. I just took photos with my cell phone. I guess they look nice as they are. They made me cry. Well, not all of them. Just these tree:

Happiest childhood days

I think that even tough I am a grown up, I still wish I could be a child again. But only for a reason. To see my grandpa again. I cry every time I remember him. I cry because he was an idiot, and I loved him so much. When he died, he didn't keep his promise. He promised he wouldn't die. He said he would take his pills, which he hated, but I guess he didn't take them.

One of the last memories I have of him (besides seeing him in his casket) is that I visted him at the hospital. He looked sick, and pale. That's when I made him take the pill. He didn't like to take those pills, he told me that, but he did it for me. I'm not sure exactly how the story goes, but I think that when he found out he had prostate cancer, he just needed to agree to remove his prostate. But old school ideas didn't let him make that choice. He chose the chemo and all that. I think the cancer got in remission, but then it came back, and worse. By the time he decided to let the doctors remove the prostate it was too late. The cancer was all over his body. My dad found lots of pills, LOTS of pills in some boxes when he was cleaning his room after he passed away. I don't think he ever take them.

My dad says grandpa was always complaining those pills made him sick, and that he didn't like them. I am selfish, I just think about how much I missed him, and how much it hurt for me to see him go at that time. But the truth is that at that time I had no idea what he was actually going through, and all the thoughts and ideas that he had about life. You know, maybe in his mind he was ready to let go of life. He was 75 years old, his children were grown ups. Two out his three children were happily married and had children -the third one is still single and will probably die single by choice-. He got to enjoy his favorite grandchildren (my sister and me), for a long time. I was 12 when he died. My sister was 20. But life as he knew it was sucking balls.

Feeding a horse

First Communion

No idea how this happened

Missing some teeth

Epic childhood game: Las Cabareteras

The doctors are telling you that you need to change your lifestyle to prolong your life, for what? Maybe ten to five years. But you already saw all that there is to see. You don't like being bald, and throwing up. Your favorite son is sneaking egg and ham sandwiches in your room behind your wife's back, so that you can have a decent meal, instead of hospital food. You are ready to let yourself die. You are ready to go. I would be.

Bu it hurt. Even more when you are crying and your sister tells you the promise he made is not a big deal. But he was like my dad. He took me to the park, he bought me candy and toys, he let me do all the things that my parents wouldn't. He was deaf, but he communicated with me. He learned to read our lips. He was always there, at every birthday, Christmas, New Year. And all I did was to go to my bedroom and watch TV. I wish I could go back and sit down at the table, and just talk to him. Ask him about life, and about how proud of me he is for doing what I've done. He would live with me, you know? He was so in love with America.

I wonder if he is in heaven. And this is why I always cry when I look at his photos. Because he was an open atheist. My grandma, on the other hand, was such a religious woman. Such a religious woman. I hated that. She never gave me love. I guess if at any point in my childhood I hated church, it was just after she told me something about God or Jesus. When I got my period, my first period, I was still nine years old. I remember it was January 16th, 1993, two days before I turned ten. We were at grandma's house, and I told her I was scared in the morning because I saw blood. I said I was also excited because now I got to wear this pads that my sister wore. All she said in her self righteousness was that now it was the time I had to make boys respect me because I was a woman.

About to nap

Huechicho on the floor

What the hell? What did that even mean? I had no idea what menstruation meant. My sister told me my ovaries would release eggs that would cry blood every month since they couldn't have babies. Honest to God, I am so excited and thankful that Libby and Enzo will not be so messed up in so many things like I was. They will probably have issues, because we are not the perfect parents. We do have God to help us, and that is all we need :)

So hopefully I'll see Grandma in heaven. But if she is not there, I won't miss her a bit. And it might be harsh that I'm saying this, but I can openly express my feelings about her. When she was dying, I remember I got in her room, and said I was sorry we didn't get to know each other more. I said I was sorry for not even trying. I didn't cry for her at her funeral. Probably my cousins cried her more - they were her favorites.

But I still cry, and will forever cry about El Panzon, and those freaking pills he didn't take.

So... talking about heaven. I think Libby knows talking about Jesus make her mommy and her daddy happy. I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. Every time we go to church, or BSF or MOPS, I ask her what her lesson was about. The first time she said it was about Jesus, and we said, "Awww...". So now, all she says is that it was about Jesus. But we are asking her what exactly about Jesus she learned, and she doesn't say anything. Maybe because she is still learning to talk. Anyway, that is to say that last night we were praying for the 20th time that God would help her be patient with Enzo when he cries. I don't know how but I ended up singing that song of Seeds about the fruits of the Spirit. And then we went from there to talking that Mommy is going to haven one day, but that I don't know exactly when.

Miss Lourdes. Best teacher ever.

Miss Liz. I owe my English to her.

Our conversations literally went like this:

- So I am going to see Jesus one day.

- I see Jesus

- No, sweetie. Well, I don't know. I will see Jesus, but I don't know if you will one day. That's your choice. All I know is that I am going to heaven.

- [Crying] I gooooooooo!! I gooooooooo to heaveeeeeeen!!

-Well, sweetie, that is your choice, and only your choice. If you want to go you have to follow Jesus.

- I folloooow Jesuuuus.

- You do? Really?

-Yes.

- You love Jesus... Hmm...

-Yes.

-But why? Why do you love him?

-He died... foohh my sins

-Oh, He did?

-Yes.

-So you are a sinner...

-Yes.

At this point, I could easily see why it is so tempting to believe your four year-old is saved. I am not saying it is impossible. All I am saying is we would like to be very discerning and wise when encouraging our children about making a decision to follow Jesus, because it is very cute to hear them repeat like parrots all you tell them. That's why I kept the conversation going.

-So then you know you have to accept Jesus in your heart, ask Him to come live inside you.

-Yes... the Spirit.

-Aha! Through the Holy Spirit. So tell me, if you are a sinner, what are your sins?

-Uhmm... your glasses, Mommy.

-My glasses? My glasses are your sins...

-Yes.

-Are you sure? Your sins are my glasses...

-Yes.

-Okay. So, listen... as you grow up, you will be able to tell me why is it that you love Jesus so much, why He died for your sins and what your sins are. When you can tell me why that means so much to you, then you, Daddy, and I can pray and ask Jesus to help you live your life. We can ask Him to come into your heart, and to help you to follow Him. Does that sound like a good deal to you?

-Yes.

6th grade graduation

Thinking hard

On a bus

Festival Cervantino 1996?

I guess when you think about it, my glasses are kind of a sin, ha ha ha!!

Libby is into stickers lately. Enzo eats the stickers. We bought a ton of stuff at Michael's to make a Christmas card from Brenda and Nimber. We also bought stuff for making a card for Daddy, just because we love him, and also for his Christmas card from Libby and Enzo. We bought tons of stickers (she picked them all), a new coloring book, paper, and more paper. It all amounted to $16. I had been saving money for this, so I was so happy to be making a card with her!

Now I can breathe and tell myself I am not a bad mother for not doing crafts with my children. Kate never does that either. It is so much work. They make a mess, and Libby gets so angry with me because I am trying to cut the paper, and she wants to do her herself; I give her the scissors, and she can't do it yet. Let the preschool teacher's do the work. I don't want to fight my daughter over how many times she puts the glue stick in her mouth...

I think Daddy liked his card.

Getting to see the paper

Using the fancy stickers she picked

Using scissors to cut the elephants

Our mess. You don't want to look at the floor.

Card for Daddy.

I forgot to mention Libby told me the other day in the bathroom that I am Mrs. Mommy. I told her I was only her mommy, but everybody called me Karla, because that's my name. So I'm Mrs. Karla for other people. She calls me now Mrs. Karla or Mrs. Mommy. Emerson, of course, is Mr. Emerson or Mr. Daddy. That's what the card was about. Those little lines below the We Love You are her actual words for telling Daddy how much we love him :)

There is not a lot to say anymore. I just want to post the photos and go to sleep, it's 2 am. I'm tired and tomorrow I need to bake a ciabatta bread for our picninc, and just enjoy my family. I don't think I will clean the house. We were going to have visitors on Sunday, but not anymore.

I also saw these pictures. Apparently my dad had a kick every time I cleaned the bathrooms, or did anything resembling cooking. I am so thankful for Scrubbing Bubbles.

Opening a can of tuna

Cleaning tiles

Still cleaning tiles years later

1998. My Daddy and me.

I also liked these photos of our wedding. I have hundreds of them, but for some reason I liked these ones better.

Wedding photos

The bride

The groom and the bride

Our parents

Emerson's parents and sister

My parents

My mom, my sister and me

I am letting Libby play with my cell phone at least 30 minutes a day. I've noticed that all she does with it is watching the videos that I take of them. She likes them, and she watches herself do the same stuff over and over again. It helps me in the morning that she is entertained while I make breakfast, or before dinner time. Enzo is into playing with the fruit and vegetables his grandma gave them like 6 months ago. It's a hit. They cook soup almost every day. I give them one of my pots and they play together very well. I like that they love each other so much. It might be a love/hate relationship sometimes, but hopefully they will be best friends for life.

Good morning, Mama!

Auto portrait

It seems Enzo is always crying for one reason or another when we are on walks.

Very sad

Very happy enjoying a bath

Daredevil

Brushing my doll's hair

We built a castle like a week ago, and the children like it a lot. Libby gets inside to read books, or they play monster and chase each other. Enzo follows Libby almost everywhere, but I also like the fact that he enjoys being on his own. Lately, he plays all the time with the magnetic letters I bought for Libby a while back. They are big, so he won't choke. He is very smart, too. It takes him less time to figure something out than it took Libby. Some things. Like he already knows to give me his sippy in my hand if I ask him. Libby got so upset when she ran out of smoothie that she would throw it at me. Enzo sometimes still does that, but if asked at the right time, he gives it to you. It's a work in progress. Also, he learned on his own to get down from the couch and Libby's crib on his belly. I think he fell maybe twice. That's all it took.

Also I'm less concerned with him than with Libby. He is not going to break his skull. Just in case, there's always a pillow under the crib, but he hasn't needed it. Also he figured out how to get down bending his knees when he learned to pull up, but that was a long time ago. It took Libby like two weeks. I remember all we heard was her head banging the crib constantly, but Enzo did it like in two days, really.

Big castle

Enzo in the castle

Smile

Playing Castle

We also made cookies for small group last Saturday. Libby wants to help around the house all the time, which is great. But sometimes she gets upset if I do it by myself. I need to constantly remind myself to be patient, and tolerant with her. It is way easier to do it without her, but she is so happy when she helps. Also, I get upset because we are so different. What for me is a good cookie, for her has to be perfect. And so she was grabbing the cookies I had made already, and making them again, and we would go back and forth... I was telling her to stop eating the frosting or I would take her out of the kitchen, and of course she didn't stop.

But how can you take her out of the kitchen? I honestly don't have the heart to do that when she enjoys making cookies so much. In any case is my fault for asking her to do something I know is very difficult, even for me. Stop eating the frosting. What am I taking about? You don't waste frosting that can go into your mouth when baking cookies.

I forgot to take a picture at the finished cookies. There were circles, stars and flowers, all different colors: yellow, pink, blue, purple, red, etc.

Baking and decorating cookies

We were coloring or trying to color with Enzo and the markers. FAIL. I was trying to teach Libby how to read. I think she recognizes some words now because she has seen them lots of times. Also she pretends to read, who knows? Like the other day, she came and showed me a word, and said, "Look, Mommy, it says Pigs". The book was about horses, but on the back there were other titles in the series of animals in the farm. And she happens to have the book about pigs, so she actually recognized that word on the cover of the piggies' book. It's not that she read pigs, is it? Although, isn't that what reading is supposed to be?

You recognize words in automatic, words that you don't even read anymore. You just know them by heart, they are stored up in your brain. That's how I learned to pronounce English, since we don't use phonics in Spanish. Spanish is read as it is written - no weird exceptions with reading. Whether her school uses phonics versus something else, I don't care. I'll teach her to recognize words anyway, there's no harm in that.

Coloring fail

Enzo saying Mama

I still need to make the point about freedom not being free for me. I came back from Target at 10:45 pm. As soon as I got into the house, Libby yelled, "Mamaaaaa! Mamaaaaa! I read Green Eggs and Ham, by Dr. Seuss. Mamaaaaaa!! Cooooome!! Mamaaaaaa! I need somethiiiiiing."

Everything was dark, Emerson was completely asleep since 9:30 pm. Libby had the closet lights on, and she had all her books on her bed. Enzo was laughing and jumping on his crib. They were happy to see me. And I was happy to see them, I actually had missed them; but I hoped that by then they would be sound asleep. Like usual, Libby started crying when I said it was time to go night nights. She said again that she wanted to sleep on the carpet. She yelled, she screamed, Enzo cried... We prayed for Daddy. She wanted to pray for him, so we prayed for his health and my health.

I warned her that I was not going to come back into the room, it was 11 pm. They needed to be asleep. After we prayed and I hugged them one more time, Libby fell asleep. I was still writing this, and I could hear noise from Enzo, but not from Libby. They woke up today around 7:30 am. I am tired, but I finished the post. I took Enzo to the doctor because there was something in his eye, but it's not an infection. We are having a picnic later with Daddy at the park. The cibatta is ready.

Again, it's 4 pm, and everybody in napping except me :)))