More from our daughter's mouth

Don't you just love it when your older child starts trying to implement your favorite parenting technique on younger siblings?  

Liliana got up on the dining room table and started to stand up on it.  Heather told her to get off the table.  Mattie then got up on the table and stood up, sparking the following:

"Uh-oh, Mattie.  Please don't follow sissy's bad example by getting up on the table," Heather said.

"Yeah, Mattie.  I'm tired of you following my bad example.  Don't you know that I'm not obedient?  Now, get down off the table or I'm going to shut you up in your room and set the timer for 5 minutes" came Liliana's added response.  

From the mouth of ....

For several reasons, I love Liliana's age (she's four).  I think the among the top reasons is that she is trying to figure things out and says some pretty hilarious things.  I think all of those who have children, or who are around them quite a bit, have a collection of these.  Here are a few samples that she has said to Heather and I in the past couple of weeks.

On Being Beautiful:

We were sitting on the couch as a family, when I turned to Liliana and said: "You're such a pretty girl".  "No, I'm smart" came the reply.  "So, you can only be beautiful OR smart?"  I ask.  "Yes, I'm smart.  Mommy's beautiful," came the answer.

On why our Bishop was replaced.

"Bishop was getting old and is going to die.  We needed a younger Bishop."

And speaking of the Bishop:

"Is Bishop still going to be Kimball's dad?"

On being left alone:

Liliana and Mattie share a room.  Tradition has it that they both wake up, play for awhile, then knock on the door.  This morning, Liliana decided to leave to go to the bathroom.  She turned to her sister and said: "I'm going to go to the bathroom and you're going to be by yourself, but don't worry.  Jesus will be in your heart and he will keep you from being lonely."

On the other churches:

We pass a church of another faith to get to church.  In the past, we've explained that other people don't believe the same things that we do, so they go to different churches.  This morning, Liliana told Heather as they passed the church:  "Look Mommy, there's that church that some people go to.  But not us, we don't go there because we want to be a family forever."

Beeswax

The members of our household are obsessed with a variety of things.  Heather loves books, especially anything having to do with sociology or how people interact.  If there's dark chocolate in the house, I will find it (the darker, the better - I can down 73% like it's nothing, but the 85% I savor).  Mattie loves shoes and her footy pajamas.  If she finds either one, she will carry them around until she finds someone and tries to get us to help her get them on.  Perhaps the strangest obsession is Liliana with her ears.  She loves having people look into them.

Now, having my own otoscope (the doctorly device to look in someone's ears, which she knows by name), she loves having me look into them to find "beeswax", which is what she's convinced grows in there.  A couple years ago, I took her to school and she got paid (quite well, at that!) to have medical students practice a child exam (listening to the heart, lungs, reflexes, and, most importantly, looking into the ears and throat.  Liliana was wonderful and enjoyed having the med students look into her ears.

But, her obsession extends beyond that.  A few months ago, her ears were impacted with "beeswax".  Being the resourceful medical student who had just been trained to irrigate ears, I brought home a 50cc syringe and an IV catheter and flushed her ears out with a mixture of warm water and hydrogen peroxide.  It worked like a charm!  After a few flushes in each ear, out popped the huge chunks of earwax.  I decided not to gross everyone out by posting the pictures.  During the whole procedure, Liliana sat quite still, enjoying every moment of it, even laughing while the water squirted in her ear!  Yesterday, she even wanted me to check in her ears to see if there was any ear wax in there for me to squirt out.  Truly, our obsessions drive us to madness!

COPS and funk

I've been officially told that my Jeep has a funky smell to it.  A little background to my story is merited.  Heather bought the Jeep before we were married.  It's a 2000 Jeep Cherokee and we love it.  It has cloth seats which has it's plusses and minuses.  It has been the victim of neglect: the windows have been left open during rainstorms on a few occasions and has been the mode of transportation for 1, now 2 children for the past 4 years.  Being poor students, the last time it was detailed was probably when Heather bought it 6 years ago and we have never shampooed the carpets nor the seats (if you can do that).  As I'm sure you can realize, it probably could use an air-freshener.  

After killing two cars and buying a van, I have come to inherit this beautiful vehicle with a 4.0 liter, V6 engine: a true gas-guzzling, American made SUV.  I love it!

So, continuing with my story, I was driving home from work last night, talking to Heather on my hands-free set, when I was faced with the all-too-common problem: traffic light turned yellow and I was at that certain distance where the light would just barely turn red before I got to it, but stopping would require slamming on my breaks.  I decided to go for it.  It turned out to be a bad mistake.  Because I had been talking on the phone, I didn't see the cop driving DIRECTLY BEHIND ME!!  On come the blue lights.  Heather heard the "Oh, crap!  I'll call you back" from me, which she has come to associate with me either destroying the engine of the car I am driving or getting pulled over.  

I pull over, I get the "Sir, License, registration, insurance.  Do you know why I pulled you over?"  I replied kindly.  Then I get the unexpected:  "Sir, can you step out of your car please and follow me?"  I step out and follow him to the back of my Jeep, expecting him to point something out.  Instead, he looks at me and says, "Have you been smoking marijuana in your car lately?"  

"What?" I reply, not sure that I heard him right.

"Didn't I catch a whiff of pot when I walked up to the window?"  He spells out for me.

"No" I replied, with the tone of: I-don't-know-what-you-smelled-but-it-certainly-wasn't-that (or at least that's what I hoped he took it for).

He excused himself, stuck his head in the car, and took another whiff.  He came back and apologized, saying that I could get back in and that he must of smelled some sort of "funk" from my upholstery.  

I got off with a verbal warning to come to a stop at the light, as well as a non-verbal one: maybe it's time to do something about that funk coming from the fabric seats!

bangor

I cant believe it is almost time to move again-well in a few more months.
We are happy to finally know where we will be living and moving too.
So, on that note, anybody know anything about Bangor that I should know?
Certain areas I should and shouldn't live in?
Do you know anyone who rents homes?
I will be 6 weeks away from having a baby when we move (crazy!), any suggestions on a new provider?
What about a doctor for the kids (specifically one who doesnt have an office policy that makes you vaccinate)
ahhhhhhh
every minute I think of new questions...
anyway, any information would be helpful

Match

So, our fate has been decided - and it's a fairly appropriate way to describe it.  For those of you not aware of how medical students land their first paying job as resident physicians, let me share some of the angst that my wife and I have been going through for the past few months.  

After decided what specialty you're interested in, you apply to the different programs, interview there, and decide which program you want to attend.  You do the whole political dance, trying to get them to like you, etc, etc.  Then comes the Match List.  Let's say you've applied to seven residency programs.  You rank these residency programs from 1 to 7.  You have a certain date to get this done by, in my case Jan 23rd.  Then, you wait.  

Meanwhile, these same programs rank their applicants 1 to how ever many applicants applied.  After the programs make their lists, they send the lists to a neutral company who puts everything into a computer and, viola!  the magic happens.  The computer figures out, Okay Student A ranked their first choice as Program 1, and Program 1 ranked Student A within the number of slots they had, so he gets it.  Student B also ranked Program 1 as his first choice, but their slots were filled, but Program 2 ranked Student B within their number of slots, and that was Student B's second choice, so that's where he goes.  It continues on that way until either you match or you didn't (i.e. your list was too short and you weren't ranked within the slots that your program had available).  If you don't match, then you Scramble - appropriately named because you then freak out and run around trying to find a program that has open slots (a list is provided) that will take you.  

Amazed?  Confused?  Thanking your lucky stars that you didn't have to get a job this way?  Having never been in the military, I can't compare it to figuring out where you're going to be stationed or deployed, but I'm sure the anxiety is something close.

Then, a couple of weeks after everyone turns in their lists, the big day come: they release the results.  In my case, today was the day.  

We've been accepted to the Bangor Family Medicine Residency at Eastern Maine Medical Center and will start sometime around July 1st, which brings up another point: that's when all new residents start, so it's not a particularly wonderful time to get sick and end up in the hospital!

Tact

So this afternoon my husband was looking at something on the computer that I could not see (I was lounging on the bed (frequent Sunday activity). Anywho, he says, "Well 181 more days left".

So I was trying to think about what he was talking about (my first thought was it was 181 more days till the man got a paying job! (can I hear an Amen! or Its about time!!!!:))
anyway so I say, "181 more days till what?"

here was his reply, "till that thing comes out".

yeah...um, yeah, he never tries to pretend that he has tact...That should have been an elective course during Medical school...his poor patients are going to get it straight up....


on that note, or because of the third babe on the way, we have purchased a van...yeah, I am a van mom...and I have to say................I am loving it!!! I will take a pic one of these days. It is a Honda Odyssey 2006. It even came with a lifetime warranty (for free) on it Powertrain (we seem to break engines around this house, so that was important to us). Liliana is obssesed with it and has even turned it into a 'girls' vehicle. Instructing me that if the baby is a boy he will have to ride in the jeep with daddy.