2018 chapter nine: February 28

This week was going really well, kinda boring and routine. Well, we're never boring, just in a solid groove. Then Stella ate 12 ounces of dark chocolate, threw up all over the house (ruined my sheep skin rug, cause the majority of my house is tile, so why not throw up three times on a nice deep shag), started shaking uncontrollably and stumbling when she tried to walk. She ended up staying over night at an animal hospital. 60 mg/kg is a lethal dose....the vet figured that she was at 267 mg/kg. 4x the lethal dose. It was scary. I had to sign a DNR. I cried in an all night animal hospital. (I got home and realized I had a zit patch on my head the whole time). She's home now and doing fine - her heart rate started getting under control as she was able to relax in her house. Now she keeps trying to eat her chocolate vomit from the snow - the vomit I shoveled into a bush and she's still trying! This crap almost killed her!

Today Papa came into town today (for work)! We all went up to his hotel and played in the pool - is there anything better than being in a swimsuit when you've been wearing layers upon layers for months. They laster a good hour past bedtime before being dragged away to the car. In Wade's prayers tonight he said he was thankful he learned how to swim good.

I ordered some PINK clothes online and they got here this week. It's been a continuous dressing room around here as these girls rotate through the pink. I keep seeing such cute spring clothes and I remind myself that if it's not pink then it's just money down the drain. Today Jac picked her favorite non-pink pants to wear with her pink dress, but then was distressed cause Blake was wearing pink pants - I let her wear pink glitter sneakers, which was apparently an okay consolation. They had nap time right after opening the new clothes, and they just match so well! 

Blake was saying a prayer this week and I said "of" for her to repeat, she didn't, so I said it again and she said "mmhmm," like, "I know, move on." 

Baby dolls have been big this week, and I've been putting diapers on them (one a day) and apparently they poop a lot, cause they're always putting their hands inside and pulling them out cupped and saying, "ewww! Poop!" Emphasis on the last 'P.' Just so we all know that we don't actually take handfuls of poop out of diapers, I'm fine with it. 

Speaking of diapers and poop - March is potty training month. Why March? Cause my girls are ready, but I wasn't, so I gave myself a deadline. We were going to start tomorrow, but Stella threw a wrench in my mental prep - although all my rugs are already put away because of her. But I plan to start Monday, cause you've either got to start on the first or on a Monday. Also, this way we can go to a huge indoor park this Friday! Last Friday we went to Chuck E. Cheese, and realized we should've been doing more fun indoor stuff all winter! And we're real stir crazy, so we need to. 

All the Easter stuff is out at the stores, reminding Wade that Easter eggs exists. Yesterday I used the promise of getting out Easter decor as a bribe...I already forgot for what, but I know it wasn't worth it. All the emotions about how annoying plastic eggs are came flooding back as if no time had passed at all. In hopes to keep them from migrating everywhere, and to teach my kids to clean up, we're getting them out at specific times, and they get taken away when there is fighting. They've been taken away several times. The tops shelves of my house (and on top of the fridge) are getting lined with banished toys.

One of my nighttime conversations with Wade - very one sided, wonder where he gets that from?

Wade: At my next I'll be five. I need to be five to touch the roof. Then my next birthday I'll be six. Then my next birthday I'll be seven. Then my next birthday I'll be eight.
Me: What happens then?
Wade: Ummm....
Me: You get baptized!
Wade: No, then I can have a root beer float. Then my next birthday I'll be nine. Then my next birthday I'll be 10 and then I'll get baptized.

At the super bowl party we went to we had root beer floats and I told him he couldn't have one, but he informed me that one of the other little kids was having one, I told him that she's eight and when he's eight he can have them too. I know we've talked about getting baptized at eight too, but root beer floats is what has stuck. But he's really into the whole "when I'm five I'll be taller and I can do this" type stuff.

I put a passcode on Wade's iPad and he keeps telling me, "my iPad not working so good." Or, "My iPad broken." Then I make it work and he's so proud of me for fixing it.

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