MoseleyWorld

Tomorrow (friday, sept 18) morning, little Samantha, who just turned one last month is having surgery. Around 7:30 she will have a myringotomy with typanostomy tube insertion, more commonly known as having “tubes” put in her ears. Samantha has had a ton ear infections for the past six months.

And when she has them, the fluid in her ears affects her hearing, causes pain and also tends to turn into colds (or vice versa). As much as we both hate to do it, we feel it is the best thing for Samantha. Hard to learn to talk when you cannot hear very well. Recent research suggests that protecting the ear from water may not be necessary, except when diving (she’s not there yet) or when being in unclean water (lakes & rivers).

Although she will be under anesthesia for only five minutes, the entire thought of my baby girl being on an operating table creates a great deal of anxiety and worry for me. Can you remember Samantha in your thoughts and prayers?

With summer comes daylight saving time. And with the additional hour of sunlight in the evening comes one more excuse for our oldest daughter to not go to bed.

Excuse #27: But the sun is still up.

Samantha and Saxon. 6.8.2009

The list of excuses gets longer and longer. Saxon, who isn’t yet three, is an incredibly good negotiator. With her skills, she may be able to bring peace to the Mideast before she reaches junior high. Here are just a few of the other reasons why it’s not quite time to go to bed.

I’m hungry. I’m really, really hungry. Carey is nearly defenseless on this one. Although she denies it, I’m guessing she was oft forced to go to bed without dinner and is repressing these childhood memories in order to cope on a day-to-day basis.

I want a snack. See above.

I want to watch TV. Well, who doesn’t? But the big people want to watch Weeds and True Blood.

I want to sleep in the big bed.

I need some water.

I want you to cover me up. She does know how to do this, it’s just another excuse to lure me into her room and give her one more opportunity to negotiate her way out of her own personal prison.

I have to go pee pee in the potty. I’m having a hard time with this one since we’re working on transitioning to big girl pants during the day. Just tell her: “oh, it’s dark, pee your pants?” Instead, I’ve resorted to reminding her that she can do it all by herself. After the 9th time she got out of bed in a 30 minute stretch the other night, I said, “Gotta pee pee? Just Go. Go. Go. Go to the bathroom. Goodnight. I love you. Don’t get out of bed again.”

I’m not tired. Or if she’s really tired, she just says, “But I’m too tired to go to bed.”

I brought you this book Daddy. Oh, sure. Instead of watching vampires, I’ll read Horton Hatches an Egg to myself, even though I just read it, aloud to Saxon, two times in a row just thirty minutes earlier.

But my very favorite excuse du jour is:
Look what happened to my nightgown - which is said while walking into the room with one of the shoulder straps undone (one arm in, one arm out).  Saxon says this with a look that ranges from one of curiousness to one of puzzlement, as if to convey, “the strangest thing magically happened to my dress. So strange that I had to come down and show you..oh, hey, by the way, I’m hungry, I wanna watch TV…”

Thank goodness, her baby sister, Samantha, turns into a pumpkin at 1900 hours and practically demands her evening milk, a quick reading of Pat the Bunny and a kiss goodnight.

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Saxon’s pre-school had an end-of-the-year “musical” performance recently. Fortunately, Carey was able to block the date on her calendar. Unfortunately, the kickoff time for the musical extravaganza was right in the middle of an already-scheduled week-long seminar I was attending - in Arlington, which is nowhere close to the neighborhood school.

I had wondered whether it would be a big deal to Saxon whether I was present, but decided I would go. Any questions about the importance, to Saxon, of my being there were answered the second she walked through the door scanning the audience for her parents.

Seeing Saxon’s warm smile while she told her friends, the teacher and anyone who within earshot, “That’s my Daddy,” made me so glad I came. My good friend Gary G, of once told me that being a parent is the greatest thing in the world, but admitted it was difficult to describe.  Well, for me, Saxon’s saying, “That’s my Daddy” would be one of those je ne sais quoi parenting moments and one of those times the love for my daughters wraps itself around me like a warm blanket.

to her friend Quincy, Saxon is saying, “that’s my daddy”

It took a while, but Saxon is finally understanding her mom and dad (a) were little babies and little kids just like her and (b) may have looked any different than they do today.  I found a photograph of Carey, circa late 80’s (big hair and all) and showed it to Saxon, who had a puzzled look on her face when I asked if she knew who that person was.

When I told her who it was, Saxon immediately replied, “That’s not my mommy, her hair is too furry.” Later when I showed it to her in front of Carey, Saxon said, “that’s not you mommy, her hair is too big.”

The other day, Saxon looked at me and said, “Daddy, you don’t have any hair. Samantha doesn’t have any hair. Mommy has hair and I have hair, but you, Daddy, don’t have any hair.” I heard her the first time.

By popular request, here’s a picture of Saxon and Yadi, her nanny. Saxon’s wearing her “white princess dress” made by her Aunt Christy and her “slippers.”

Things have been quite crazy, busy around here, to say the least, in the last few weeks. We hope to be able to catch our breath after the Christmas holiday with family. To add to the usual holiday stress, old Santa has been terrorizing Saxon any chance he gets.

We stumbled upon Santa Claus and his elves at the Magnolia Hotel during the downtown Dallas tree-lighting ceremony.Saxon seemed quite content to study St. Nicholas from afar, but as we began to leave, she voiced a request to see him up close & personal.

As the line got shorter, I could hear Santa asking the kids what they wanted for Christmas. I thought, “Holy Rudolph! We have not prepped this child for this moment!” So Carey quickly told Saxon that Santa will ask her what she wanted for Christmas and suggested that Saxon ask for a new dolly. When I suggested to Saxon that she might want to ask for something for Samantha as well, she interrupted me saying “a new blankie for Samantha!” (because what the heck else does a 4 month old really need? and it keeps Samantha away from Saxon’s favorite!)

We walked up the stairs to Santa’s throne (?) and I plopped Saxon down on St. Nick’s lap. She refused to look him in the eye - preferring to keep her eye on Mom & Dad. But I could tell she was watching Santa out of the corner of the eye to make sure the funny looking fella wasn’t going to make any fast moves.

I could tell Santa was ready to punt, so I picked Saxon up and started walking off when she immediately began yelling, “Santa, I want a dolly, I want a dolly, Santa!…and Samantha wants a new blankie, got it? a new blankie, Samantha!”

So, when we got to the car, Saxon looked all sad and said, “where’s my dolly?” Obviously, we get an F in the preparing the kid to meet Santa Claus department. Although Saxon has wanted nothing to do with Santa Claus the other times she’s seen him (the man does get around!), he’s pretty interesting to watch from at  least 10 or 12 feet away.

Here’s the official 2008 Moseley Christmas (yes, it says, Merry Christmas!) card. This year, we went with a “wide format” card that opened up from the right side (vs the standard foldover type card).  We had fun photographing our pretty little girls for the card.

front of card

inside left of card

inside right of card

back of card

The 2008 edition features somewhat of a final farewell, a tribute, to Ranger, who died earlier this year.  Unboxing the Christmas decorations and finding Ranger’s personalized stocking (sorry about the treat we left in the stocking last year, buddy!) and seeing several canine-themed ornaments brought the kind of grief sorrow I realize many people experience every holiday season.We still miss him terribly, but pledge to remember the good times the little “devil in a clown’s suit” brought us. Merry Christmas little guy.