A New Water Heater or a New Tattoo?

Upon the birth of our third child, Alyssa, our need for new tattoos were sparked. I have been wanting to get a new one with all the kids names incorporated, but was waiting, at the time, to see if my desires for a 3rd child would come to fruition. Doug has been wanting one for much longer, but he too, was waiting. Well, here we are. Alyssa has been around for 1 year now and since the day of her birth, I have been mulling over ideas of how my new tattoo should look and where it should be placed.

Research has been done and we both know what we want, where we want to put it and probably where we are getting them done. So why haven't we done it yet? I will give you 3 very good reasons:

1) Money. We are estimating $500+ for each tattoo.
2) The tattoo shop we found, via recommendation from a friend and glorious Yelp reviews, requires appointments. We need to find someone to babysit all 3 kids on a Saturday afternoon, so we can go there and get the process started. Which, mind you, requires a $100 deposit. Each. (see reason #1)
3) The fact that our water heater is in its last stages of life. Quotes have come in and we are looking at upwards of $1400 to replace our current 40 gallon or $3280 to upgrade to a tankless/on-demand. (see reason #1)

Well, we decided to go with the obviously responsible choice and get new tattoos...

Just kidding, the water heater goes in when the tax refund arrives!

Paige's Quote of the Day

The other day in the car, Paige was asking about what people's "whole" name was. We went over what hers, Jimmy's and Alyssa's full names are.

I then asked her what my full name was. Her response: "Mommy Dana Miller".

Priceless.

It Only Takes a Minute

Every once in a while, something occurs that brings a thought to the forefront...how much your life can drastically change in a matter of minutes. The scary part is you just don't know where or when such change will strike. That is life, right?

I think I have become much more sensitive to this since having children. Considering myself a fairly laid back parent, I still worry... a lot. I really had no idea how much worry would come with the joy that is raising kids.

Alyssa loves the bathroom. She has figured out how to turn the faucet on (cold is the only one she can reach) and lean over just enough to get her little hands wet in the stream. She also likes to lean over the side and try to reach toys that are in the tub, water or no water. Laying on her belly, her little legs up in the air as she desperately tries to reach that ducky. She almost took a header into the empty tub a couple weeks ago. Needless to say, the bathroom door remains closed unless there is adult supervision present.

Last night, after dinner, I drew a bath for Paige & Jimmy. They no longer like to bathe together, so they take turns. Jimmy went first. Now that they are 3 & 4 years old, with over a year of swimming lessons under their belts, I don't necessarily sit in the bathroom with them while they take a bath. They are sitting in 4-5 inches of water and even if Paige laid her whole head down in the tub, her nose is still sticking out of the water! Of course, my ears are wide open and I definitely walk by the bathroom numerous times to check in. So Jimmy is in the tub, Alyssa is standing at the side of the tub playing with the faucet and Paige is standing next to her. The two girls are laughing at each other and playing. Jimmy is sitting in the warm bath taking it all in. I am standing at the sink flat ironing my hair because I was going to a mom's club function at 8pm.

I honestly cannot recall how it happened. Maybe Paige said something. Maybe the bathroom went unusually silent. Maybe some mommy instinct kicked in. Flat iron in motion, something made me look down to the tub. To my utmost horror, I looked to find Alyssa, fully clothed, laying on her back under water in the tub. Jimmy staring at her in shock. Her flailing arms and legs and the sheer look of terror on her face will forever be etched into my memory. I threw the flatiron into the sink, shoved Paige aside, reached down and grabbed Alyssa by the shirt and pulled her out and onto the towel on the floor. She was so scared. She was crying so hard. She was breathing. She was fine. I took off her wet clothes and wrapped her in a towel. Still getting a grasp on what just happened, Doug came home. Paige runs down the hall, "daddy, Alyssa fell in the tub." He turns the corner to the bathroom and sees the panic on my face. I tell him what happened.

I put her back in the bath and washed her up. She was splashing happily and playing with Paige. I don't want her to be afraid of the water. I dried her off and put her pj's on, walked out to the kitchen holding her. Doug looked at me and asked if I was ok...I lost it. He gave us both a hug and told me everything is ok. She is fine. It was an accident.

I am making sure to give Alyssa a few extra hugs and kisses today, on top of my already obsessive amount of hugs and kisses in a given day. And even though she may not understand, I have also added a few extra "I love you's" today too.

I write and share this story, not because I am looking for any sympathy. Not because I want to hear any judgments or criticisms about what I do or don't do as a parent. I write this because if you are a parent reading this, you need to hear stories like this from people you know. This shit really does happen. A friend last night told me I was courageous for sharing this story with her. People are too afraid to talk about things like this, for fear of being judged or criticized. No parent is perfect. We do the best we can. I think I do ok with my kids. I love them, guide them, discipline them and nurture them in a way that I feel is best. But no matter what you do, you never know when an accident can happen and change your life forever.