I know you've all read, or at least heard about, the "If you give a _____ a _____ books". You know- give a pig a pancake, give a moose a muffin, give a mouse a cookie. Is it a cookie??? I can't remember, which seems strange as I have read them all like 73 times.
I have a new one.
If you give a mom a moment.
She'll want a glass of tea to go with it.
While in the kitchen she will load the rest of the dishes.
On the counter she will notice a vase of dying flowers, she will empty it and take it to put it away.
On her way to the laundry room to put it away, she will hang up the pile of jackets that has collected by the front door.
In the laundry room she will put the vase away, water the dog, put the wash into the dryer and think 'what the heck'.
So she will proceed to get another load of laundry for the washer, one of her daughters loads of clothes.
While in the girls room, she will put 52 pairs of shoes back in their spots on the shoe holder, feed the guinea pigs and fold their blankets (the children's, not the pig's).
She'll drag the laundry back, start the wash, and hear the dryer buzz. She'll fold up that load really quickly.
And since it is all folded, she'll decide to put it away.
In her little boys room, she'll discover that there are 129 action figures between her and the dresser. She will gather them up quickly to keep from popping little holes in her feet.
Away goes the laundry. Away goes the basket.
While putting the basket away- she'll discover that 'someone' may or may not have peed in their closet again (don't judge).
She'll go to get rags, water and carpet cleaner- from the laundry room.
While in the laundry room, the washer will be done. She'll put it in the dryer.
And what the heck, go to her room to get another load to start.
But her laundry isn't sorted, so she will do so.
She will gather her unmentionables and start the washer running.
While there, she will notice the rags and cleaners and remember the closet.
She will tend to that.
She will decide it is time to start that moment, she will go to find her book- which is probably by her bed.
But first she will decide to use the restroom.
While there, she will notice that there is no more toilet paper. She will get under the counter to get some more only to discover there is none.
She will rummage through the other bathroom and turn up a package of tp.
She will restock her bathroom, put away the flat iron that was left on the counter, gather all of the towels from the counter and tub and put them in the hamper, and rinse down a huge glob of tooth paste.
She come out, grab her book and head to the kitchen to find that glass of tea.
While there- she will get out a package of chicken to defrost for dinner.
Her family will pull up in the drive way. He children will blast through the door instantly peppering her with questions about who can come over and which one wants to play what game.
Her husband will come through the door and ask if she had a good rest. She will beat him with a package of frozen chicken.
He'll point out how she wasted 'her' me time.
She'll realize that for the mom there really isn't much of a moment at all.
Now- who wants to be the illustrator?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
A conner prairie kind of day
Weaving flax. She said it would take all day to weave a tennis ball size ball of yarn. She must not get the Michaels 40% coupons in the sunday paper.
That poor over-touched chick.
The chicken whisperer.
Our 2010 Christmas Card photo.
Just like a man.
Yes- that is a real hot air balloon. Hang on Sammy!
Axe throwing......an acceptable game?
After our trip on Saturday, I just keep trying to imagine myself living in these times.
It seems so perfect.
But then I try to imagine sending my children out to the boiling pot of wax to make our families candles or having them check our food, which is cooking in a stove that is like 500 degrees.
Or hearing them say 'we're going out to play the axe throwing game' and not having a stroke.
My children are not responsible enough to be pioneers.
And based on my sorry little garden this year, neither am I.
Monday, September 27, 2010
A new reality show this Fall!
From the creators of Hoarders comes a new television series.........
Cramers.
Follow the journey as a family plagued with the uncanny ability to stuff stuff into every single nook and cranny explore a new technique in living, called not saving every single thing you've ever seen.
Despite several attempts and hundreds of dollars in IKEA organizational items- this woman finds it impossible to not fill every single little space in every single little cabinet with crap.
Join us this Fall as our team solves this families problem with life and the stuff that accumulates with it. Will they finally throw away 1846 coffee cans? 176 marsh bags? 287 fourth of july plates?
Or will they simply build more closets.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
The power of positive-ness
You know how they say children (people in general) respond better to positive comments than to negative feedback? I've heard that if you share a positive remark with someone about their personal being that it echos multiple times in their being..........where as the negative ones just rip them apart.
So here goes.
Allyson. You know today when you took Sam's video game from him and he was screaming in the car and basically hysterical because he was asking you questions and you were COMPLETELY ignoring him until you started spelling, yes SPELLING, your answers back to your four year old brother????? Good job spelling all of the words correctly.
Emily. Remember this afternoon when we were at conner prairie and you wanted to play checkers with your sister in that one house in that little village? And Sam beat you to the chair that was at the table? And then you basically melted down into a huge puddle in front of God and everybody about absolutely everything for the next 10 minutes (20 million years) until I finally led you to a bench and sat down with you while you finished trying to handle your emotions? I liked how you finally just melted into my lap and then decided we could continue on with our day.
Sam. When I handed you your 4376 things off of the kitchen counter and living room floor and asked that you take them and put them away in your room- good job throwing them in the middle of the correct bedroom floor.
Dan. You know when we are in the car, every single freaking time, and you roll down the windows, despite how you know I absolutely hate that? And each and every time I try and wait for you to roll it back up, but you never do until I say something in my most absolute polite and joy filled voice asking for your assistance, again, with the situation? I appreciate how you huff and puff while rolling it back up- really I do.
There. We'll see if that works.
So here goes.
Allyson. You know today when you took Sam's video game from him and he was screaming in the car and basically hysterical because he was asking you questions and you were COMPLETELY ignoring him until you started spelling, yes SPELLING, your answers back to your four year old brother????? Good job spelling all of the words correctly.
Emily. Remember this afternoon when we were at conner prairie and you wanted to play checkers with your sister in that one house in that little village? And Sam beat you to the chair that was at the table? And then you basically melted down into a huge puddle in front of God and everybody about absolutely everything for the next 10 minutes (20 million years) until I finally led you to a bench and sat down with you while you finished trying to handle your emotions? I liked how you finally just melted into my lap and then decided we could continue on with our day.
Sam. When I handed you your 4376 things off of the kitchen counter and living room floor and asked that you take them and put them away in your room- good job throwing them in the middle of the correct bedroom floor.
Dan. You know when we are in the car, every single freaking time, and you roll down the windows, despite how you know I absolutely hate that? And each and every time I try and wait for you to roll it back up, but you never do until I say something in my most absolute polite and joy filled voice asking for your assistance, again, with the situation? I appreciate how you huff and puff while rolling it back up- really I do.
There. We'll see if that works.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Once.......twice...........sold
Yesterday was the auction at dan's grandfathers home. All of their things, their lifetime of things, strewn all over the front lawn sorted into boxes. The nicer things up on tables. And the really 'fine' things on the tables with the black clothes.
Funny that the things his grandparents would have considered 'fine' and the things the auctioneer assigned the title to were probably not the same items. You know what I'm saying. Handmade candle holder wall sconces presented by a zit covered teenager after shop class to one adoring grandparent..........fast trip to the dollar boxes on the lawn (which in fact no one even bid on). Some glass piece of ho hum something or other that had been packed away in a closet somewhere forever and possibly no one really even knows where it came from...............front and center on the prime table.
It's all just stuff. But I attach emotion to stuff so things like this are difficult to me. To see their kitchen table get drug away and thrown in a vehicle was hard. Because it was THEIR kitchen table. They played cards, served meals, sat and talked, papaw dozed, they gathered around it and participated in life. And now that life is done and it is on to it's new home. As we ate one last and final meal around it yesterday afternoon I felt a bit overwhelmed.
It's not that any of it was fine, breathtaking, rare or even fabulous. But it was all theirs. They were the items they used to live this life, their life. And it just felt strange to see it all being sorted and touched by strangers. Almost like we were intruders. And it was hard to see what was 'valued' and what wasn't.
It is all just stuff. And in my head I kept repeating the bible verse about not storing up your treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy. Perhaps if Jesus were alive today, he would have given a parable about the man and woman who had all their treasures sorted into boxes that all sold for $1 each. And how none of it matters at all once we leave this earth and enter our new lives after death.
It was still hard. Perhaps because they are not here any longer. Maybe that was why it was hard because they no longer require their rake, skillet, sheets.........it makes it more real that they are in fact gone.
I forgot my camera. And I think I'm actually kind of glad. It makes me sad to remember the small gathering of folks who came out with their umbrellas in hand to shell out cash for the life long collections of Leroy and Mary Goble. And although I am grateful that they all did, and in turn helped us as the family to begin the process of eliminating earthbound treasures, I just don't want to see it again.
There is no need to save your stuff. No need to hoard it away for some reason. No reason to keep something that you do not love or receive enjoyment from. I am on a mission to fill my house with only things that I really enjoy. Special family vases, china passed down from family, a special souvenier that revives a memory of a piece of time, handpainted statues- perfect items to fill your space with. All the rest of it is out of here. I want only my personal 'black clothe table' items left. Which in fact will end up in someones dollar box someday.
Funny that the things his grandparents would have considered 'fine' and the things the auctioneer assigned the title to were probably not the same items. You know what I'm saying. Handmade candle holder wall sconces presented by a zit covered teenager after shop class to one adoring grandparent..........fast trip to the dollar boxes on the lawn (which in fact no one even bid on). Some glass piece of ho hum something or other that had been packed away in a closet somewhere forever and possibly no one really even knows where it came from...............front and center on the prime table.
It's all just stuff. But I attach emotion to stuff so things like this are difficult to me. To see their kitchen table get drug away and thrown in a vehicle was hard. Because it was THEIR kitchen table. They played cards, served meals, sat and talked, papaw dozed, they gathered around it and participated in life. And now that life is done and it is on to it's new home. As we ate one last and final meal around it yesterday afternoon I felt a bit overwhelmed.
It's not that any of it was fine, breathtaking, rare or even fabulous. But it was all theirs. They were the items they used to live this life, their life. And it just felt strange to see it all being sorted and touched by strangers. Almost like we were intruders. And it was hard to see what was 'valued' and what wasn't.
It is all just stuff. And in my head I kept repeating the bible verse about not storing up your treasures on earth where moth and rust destroy. Perhaps if Jesus were alive today, he would have given a parable about the man and woman who had all their treasures sorted into boxes that all sold for $1 each. And how none of it matters at all once we leave this earth and enter our new lives after death.
It was still hard. Perhaps because they are not here any longer. Maybe that was why it was hard because they no longer require their rake, skillet, sheets.........it makes it more real that they are in fact gone.
I forgot my camera. And I think I'm actually kind of glad. It makes me sad to remember the small gathering of folks who came out with their umbrellas in hand to shell out cash for the life long collections of Leroy and Mary Goble. And although I am grateful that they all did, and in turn helped us as the family to begin the process of eliminating earthbound treasures, I just don't want to see it again.
There is no need to save your stuff. No need to hoard it away for some reason. No reason to keep something that you do not love or receive enjoyment from. I am on a mission to fill my house with only things that I really enjoy. Special family vases, china passed down from family, a special souvenier that revives a memory of a piece of time, handpainted statues- perfect items to fill your space with. All the rest of it is out of here. I want only my personal 'black clothe table' items left. Which in fact will end up in someones dollar box someday.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Days of our lives
I was at the grocery today- frantically grabbing this and that so that I can magically turn it into nutrition for the troops- when a old wrinkly man and woman, both wearing dress slacks and glasses, stopped me. As the man approached, he held his finger out at me while making eye contact and I braced myself for a lecture. Instead he asked me- while squinting his eyes in confusion- what day it was.
In my head instantly items began popping like pop corn. It's green day, field trip day, meatloaf day, dust the house day, moms fancy hospital test day, room parent meeting day, library book day, gym day and sack lunch day. Oh- and it's soft ball practice day.
But I know that in fact is not what he meant. So I looked into his aged eyes and thought for a moment about what yesterday was so that I could come up with the correct response. Finally I was able to tell him it was in fact Tuesday. It has to be Tuesday since piano lessons were yesterday, afterall.
Someday I hope I will cherish the slower times that come with age that will hopefully land me in the produce section wondering what on earth time it is or what day of the week it has rolled around to.
I certainly hope that they have a wonderful Tuesday. I might envy them and their slower pace just a little.
In my head instantly items began popping like pop corn. It's green day, field trip day, meatloaf day, dust the house day, moms fancy hospital test day, room parent meeting day, library book day, gym day and sack lunch day. Oh- and it's soft ball practice day.
But I know that in fact is not what he meant. So I looked into his aged eyes and thought for a moment about what yesterday was so that I could come up with the correct response. Finally I was able to tell him it was in fact Tuesday. It has to be Tuesday since piano lessons were yesterday, afterall.
Someday I hope I will cherish the slower times that come with age that will hopefully land me in the produce section wondering what on earth time it is or what day of the week it has rolled around to.
I certainly hope that they have a wonderful Tuesday. I might envy them and their slower pace just a little.
Monday, September 20, 2010
My weekend
This weekend was a huge pre-planned trip for Ally's girl scout troop. We've sold cookies, saved and skimped and planned away- and Saturday we departed for Brown County for an overnight stay in a lodge with an indoor waterpark.
9 girls, all 10 years oldish. 5 really brave mommas. But not as brave as tent camping mommas. After all- we were in a hotel.
Armed with coolers of drinks, bags of snacks, suitcases of clothing and absolutely no alcohol or narcotics (yeah us) we split the kids into rooms and began our journey. Here is a brief listing of what I learned this weekend:
1. One child in our group depends on a sleeping pill in order to actually sleep- and she was assigned to my room. And she didn't have her pill.
2. 10 year old children think they know EVERYTHING.
3. One child gets acid reflux if she drinks lemonade. One will break out in a rash if she is exposed to chlorine. And one will in fact try and scale a stone wall. One of these children is mine.
4. One child will bring 24 individually wrapped brownies sent by her momma and will refuse to share them with anyone and will in fact end up packing them back into her suitcase to take home with her.
5. It is apparently not known by all that eating food while in line at a breakfast bar is considered rude. Definitely not known by one in particular 10 year old.
6. Groups of 10 year old little girls are, in fact, intimidating. But not to brave mommas- only to other hotel guests. Having a pow wow with small girls in the pool will in fact turn into a he said she said- where you will have to declare that if we get kicked out of the pool because 'other pool guest' (who is a grown woman and was acting like a complete 10 year old- really arguing over pool noodles with a child?) complains to management- we will in fact NOT be doing anything fun instead. CUT IT OUT.
7. Apparently we american parents have stopped teaching children manners. I've never felt so discouraged in my life. It is in fact not possible to 'teach' manners in a 24 hour period.
8. One child will find the pool to be too cold and she will refuse to swim. And you will feel like a big meanie telling her to just sit there then. But you did in fact come to a WATER PARK, so you will justify it.
9. One room will declare that they are in fact not going to go to sleep- and you will be so thankful that it is not yours. And sleeping pill child will somehow fall asleep before 10pm- all on her own (heavens ringing- angels singing)
10. You will never have more laughs than with a group of young girls........and you will know what a blessing it was that you got to go with them. Even if you declared it too early for all this chaos on your way to the breakfast area and demand that everyone hush until you are able to consume at least one cup of coffee.
One more. 11. When you arrive in a lodge restaurant with 9 little girls- your waitress will basically throw you a pile of napkins and wish you luck as she waves 'buh bye' from the kitchen door. You will have to fetch your own coffee and anything else that you desire. 9 young women will in fact drink 26 small carafes of milk from the breakfast bar in the absence of a waitress to bring drinks. Not everyone finds this charming I suppose.
Alright- one more again. 12. It will only take 10 year old girls a minute to figure out who's momma will make them go the fastest down the water slide. I may or may not have climbed those slide steps 314 times this weekend. Dang them skinny mommas.
I used to wonder where kindergarten teachers drew their strength from. I now realize that it is actually the middle school teachers who need to be commended. These children talk a lot, complain about most everything and have an opinion about absolutely anything. They struggle with wanting to be a child and wanting to be a young woman. Throw in their hormones, that they don't yet know what to do with, and they are like walking little time bombs.
9 girls, all 10 years oldish. 5 really brave mommas. But not as brave as tent camping mommas. After all- we were in a hotel.
Armed with coolers of drinks, bags of snacks, suitcases of clothing and absolutely no alcohol or narcotics (yeah us) we split the kids into rooms and began our journey. Here is a brief listing of what I learned this weekend:
1. One child in our group depends on a sleeping pill in order to actually sleep- and she was assigned to my room. And she didn't have her pill.
2. 10 year old children think they know EVERYTHING.
3. One child gets acid reflux if she drinks lemonade. One will break out in a rash if she is exposed to chlorine. And one will in fact try and scale a stone wall. One of these children is mine.
4. One child will bring 24 individually wrapped brownies sent by her momma and will refuse to share them with anyone and will in fact end up packing them back into her suitcase to take home with her.
5. It is apparently not known by all that eating food while in line at a breakfast bar is considered rude. Definitely not known by one in particular 10 year old.
6. Groups of 10 year old little girls are, in fact, intimidating. But not to brave mommas- only to other hotel guests. Having a pow wow with small girls in the pool will in fact turn into a he said she said- where you will have to declare that if we get kicked out of the pool because 'other pool guest' (who is a grown woman and was acting like a complete 10 year old- really arguing over pool noodles with a child?) complains to management- we will in fact NOT be doing anything fun instead. CUT IT OUT.
7. Apparently we american parents have stopped teaching children manners. I've never felt so discouraged in my life. It is in fact not possible to 'teach' manners in a 24 hour period.
8. One child will find the pool to be too cold and she will refuse to swim. And you will feel like a big meanie telling her to just sit there then. But you did in fact come to a WATER PARK, so you will justify it.
9. One room will declare that they are in fact not going to go to sleep- and you will be so thankful that it is not yours. And sleeping pill child will somehow fall asleep before 10pm- all on her own (heavens ringing- angels singing)
10. You will never have more laughs than with a group of young girls........and you will know what a blessing it was that you got to go with them. Even if you declared it too early for all this chaos on your way to the breakfast area and demand that everyone hush until you are able to consume at least one cup of coffee.
One more. 11. When you arrive in a lodge restaurant with 9 little girls- your waitress will basically throw you a pile of napkins and wish you luck as she waves 'buh bye' from the kitchen door. You will have to fetch your own coffee and anything else that you desire. 9 young women will in fact drink 26 small carafes of milk from the breakfast bar in the absence of a waitress to bring drinks. Not everyone finds this charming I suppose.
Alright- one more again. 12. It will only take 10 year old girls a minute to figure out who's momma will make them go the fastest down the water slide. I may or may not have climbed those slide steps 314 times this weekend. Dang them skinny mommas.
I used to wonder where kindergarten teachers drew their strength from. I now realize that it is actually the middle school teachers who need to be commended. These children talk a lot, complain about most everything and have an opinion about absolutely anything. They struggle with wanting to be a child and wanting to be a young woman. Throw in their hormones, that they don't yet know what to do with, and they are like walking little time bombs.
I was looking for my 'I survived a girl scout weekend' shirt or button or ribbon or trophy- but apparently I didn't get one. Unless it is the box of cheese its that are ground into my van carpeting. At least I had the opportunity to chill with the other moms in the 'over 18 only' hot tub. We may or may not have been making faces at the girls while soaking in our own private area.
Thank you Allyson for making this weekend possible. Sorry for making faces at you.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Lew's final debut
Lewis attended his second pet day at preschool this week. I tried to convince Sam to let me bring a guinea pig- but he wouldn't have it. He wanted his faithful steed there. Which is Lew- in case you missed that- follow along.
Lew was happy to oblige because he got to bust out of the house and hang his head out of the car window for a while. After I hoisted his rather large self into the car that is. And then up onto the seat. I now have a new respect for Emily- she is the one who typically helps lift him onto the porch after his walks. I didn't realize what a chore that really is.
Getting to take our overgrown beagle to Sam's pet day was one of the best parts of my week. And I am thankful that I got to do it. I am not thankful that we won't ever do it again. (last year of preschool- babies growing too fast- life not fair, try and keep up man).
See, there is not a pet day at the elementary. Apparently one year some yahoo brought their pet snake who bit someone and now Mr. Principal decided it is 'not safe'. Whatever. It probably wasn't venomous- spoil sport.
Back to pet day 2010. There were 7 (seven- holy cow) dogs there that day. If I could speak dog- I'm pretty sure I would have heard the other six snickering and pointing (if they had fingers) at Lew. However- Lew was completely happy to collapse in a heap and wait for his entourage of small people while the others pranced around nervously- huffing and puffing and barking. I'm pretty sure I would have heard him say something involving 'whippersnappers' and roll his eyes (if dogs could roll their eyes).
Thanks for having us little man. Lew felt like quite the celebrity. I liked the way you 'sit like a preschooler' and waited in line to touch the other doggies. By the way- take a look around and see how much taller you are than your friends and put the brakes on that growing crap, would ya.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I ain't got it
Whatever it is that makes women seem so put together and in control, I need some.
For I am way falling apart and out of complete and total control. Everywhere I turn are piles of things that need my attention (bills, homework, laundry, dishes, grocery lists, filthy dog, children) and I just can't keep up with any of it. All I can manage to pin it on is stress- but that just sounds stupid because what freakin' stress could I possibly really have?
But still- it's what I am blaming my lack of............everything on.
I want to write something funny to lift my spirits- but my heart just won't allow it. So instead I will post this bummer of a blog and go wash the tears off my face. Somedays just feel a bit like too much- and this is probably one of them for me.
I watched that stupid (I'm just being cranky- she is really like a living angel) Michelle Dugger and her brood of 19 kids last night on TV and I'm afraid that is what spurred my hopelessness. She has it all so very together. Stocked pantry, clean home, happy kids (who don't watch TV), homeschools, a husband who adores her and she is so positive and gentle with her children. Wow- I'm thinking of moving us in with her. With all those kids, I bet she wouldn't even notice.
For I am way falling apart and out of complete and total control. Everywhere I turn are piles of things that need my attention (bills, homework, laundry, dishes, grocery lists, filthy dog, children) and I just can't keep up with any of it. All I can manage to pin it on is stress- but that just sounds stupid because what freakin' stress could I possibly really have?
But still- it's what I am blaming my lack of............everything on.
I want to write something funny to lift my spirits- but my heart just won't allow it. So instead I will post this bummer of a blog and go wash the tears off my face. Somedays just feel a bit like too much- and this is probably one of them for me.
I watched that stupid (I'm just being cranky- she is really like a living angel) Michelle Dugger and her brood of 19 kids last night on TV and I'm afraid that is what spurred my hopelessness. She has it all so very together. Stocked pantry, clean home, happy kids (who don't watch TV), homeschools, a husband who adores her and she is so positive and gentle with her children. Wow- I'm thinking of moving us in with her. With all those kids, I bet she wouldn't even notice.
Monday, September 13, 2010
Happy Fall
Saturday, September 11, 2010
The day the world changed
Sam beat the girls out of bed this morning and we scrolled the Saturday morning cartoons together. And he discovered boy shows.
It was like an epiphany of sorts for him. He gasped. He sat up. He exclaimed. He'd never seen anything like that before. Like a reunion of two long lost souls.
He was taken back by the good guys and the bad guys- their cars- their shields- their helmets- their walkie talkies. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign. Like the friends he had known his entire life yet never met.
See- with two older sisters and being the baby and all, his choices for television viewing are limited. The kid has watched his fair share of Hannah Montana and Saving Charlie, and he's even kind of taken a liking to the Wizards of Waverly Place- but simply as a default of not being the worst of the choices. He has met Sponge Bob and Fan Boy and Chum Chum- which I consider kind of boyish and a happy medium for my 3 differently gendered and aged children.
We know PBS shows. I find them charming and appropriate, and for the most part sweet and wholesome. He has sworn off Word Girl and refuses to watch Sid anylonger, he gave those up almost a year ago. Oh how I miss that science kid.
However, with his new found 'boy' shows- somehow I think all of those Peep and the Big Wide World's I have dvr'd will go to complete waste. I certainly hope he doesn't turn against Chuggington too.
Hot Wheels Battle Force One- you have forever changed him. He had me scan the week's schedule to see when they can be together again. Apparently every other day at 8:30 am.
I don't speak boy. And Sam does. I can see that this is going to create a problem for us.
Why just this week we were playing with his giant new bag of monster trucks aka his new loves. And action figures, which I don't know much of either. One guy even has blood coming from his arm. So I suggested sending him to the hospital. Or find his mommy to kiss it. And then my guy invited his to my house for cookies and milk.
I don't speak boy. The closest thing I can even remotely relate to are barbies- which are kind of like action figures only with kickin' outfits and flowing hair. I don't know how to 'play' cars or action figures with swords and light sabers. But I am willing to learn, and I am trying like all heck- but it is not clicking. How can you play with something that you can't even change it's shoes? Where are their houses?
I'm loosing my playability with him. At least I still am the only one who will bake goodies or curl up in bed to read stories- because of that I'm sure I will still see him occasionally. But running around the yard beating each other with pool noodles? I will depend on someone without boobs to fill that role I suppose.
This child is all fired, busting at the seams boy. He just came wired that way. It started early with anything with wheels (which were few and far between in a house of polly pockets and miniature doll house people) and has progressed rapidly.
No one tell him that his favorite blankie in the entire universe, the one that he cried for an hour for when we forget it at grandmas, and he needs every night when he climbs into bed, is covered with sunflowers.
It was like an epiphany of sorts for him. He gasped. He sat up. He exclaimed. He'd never seen anything like that before. Like a reunion of two long lost souls.
He was taken back by the good guys and the bad guys- their cars- their shields- their helmets- their walkie talkies. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign. Like the friends he had known his entire life yet never met.
See- with two older sisters and being the baby and all, his choices for television viewing are limited. The kid has watched his fair share of Hannah Montana and Saving Charlie, and he's even kind of taken a liking to the Wizards of Waverly Place- but simply as a default of not being the worst of the choices. He has met Sponge Bob and Fan Boy and Chum Chum- which I consider kind of boyish and a happy medium for my 3 differently gendered and aged children.
We know PBS shows. I find them charming and appropriate, and for the most part sweet and wholesome. He has sworn off Word Girl and refuses to watch Sid anylonger, he gave those up almost a year ago. Oh how I miss that science kid.
However, with his new found 'boy' shows- somehow I think all of those Peep and the Big Wide World's I have dvr'd will go to complete waste. I certainly hope he doesn't turn against Chuggington too.
Hot Wheels Battle Force One- you have forever changed him. He had me scan the week's schedule to see when they can be together again. Apparently every other day at 8:30 am.
I don't speak boy. And Sam does. I can see that this is going to create a problem for us.
Why just this week we were playing with his giant new bag of monster trucks aka his new loves. And action figures, which I don't know much of either. One guy even has blood coming from his arm. So I suggested sending him to the hospital. Or find his mommy to kiss it. And then my guy invited his to my house for cookies and milk.
I don't speak boy. The closest thing I can even remotely relate to are barbies- which are kind of like action figures only with kickin' outfits and flowing hair. I don't know how to 'play' cars or action figures with swords and light sabers. But I am willing to learn, and I am trying like all heck- but it is not clicking. How can you play with something that you can't even change it's shoes? Where are their houses?
I'm loosing my playability with him. At least I still am the only one who will bake goodies or curl up in bed to read stories- because of that I'm sure I will still see him occasionally. But running around the yard beating each other with pool noodles? I will depend on someone without boobs to fill that role I suppose.
This child is all fired, busting at the seams boy. He just came wired that way. It started early with anything with wheels (which were few and far between in a house of polly pockets and miniature doll house people) and has progressed rapidly.
No one tell him that his favorite blankie in the entire universe, the one that he cried for an hour for when we forget it at grandmas, and he needs every night when he climbs into bed, is covered with sunflowers.
It has always cracked me up that out of all of the blankies that this testosterone filled child had to select from, he choose to fall in love with mine- one from the living room-one that is a homemade quilt covered with bright yellow flowers.
In our new found love of all things metal covered and loud- I find it charming.
In add due respect- I neglected to realize that I was posting this on what is in fact 9/11- the day the world really was forever changed. With a heavy and prayerful heart I do remember that day vividly- even though I was no where near where tradgedy struck.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Exercise
If you choose to wake up at the crack of dawn to shake your groove thing in an effort to reduce the size of said thing, you MIGHT want to keep it under wraps.
Otherwise you will end up with little people shaking their little things next to you and a husband who can't keep out of the room with the camera.
Otherwise you will end up with little people shaking their little things next to you and a husband who can't keep out of the room with the camera.
It was a wee bit humbling for Emily to get up and get fully dressed for school- perform sweating to the oldies with me- and then proceed to eat her breakfast and get on the bus. Just like nothing had happened.
I on the other hand had to hit the shower.
Only because I worked harder of course.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
You've GOT to be kidding me
So- we all know what my laundry situation is, right? I mean I must mention it at least once a week. It is always on the verge of out of control, it's just where we live. I struggle to keep up with five individuals clothing, underwear, towels and bedding- there, I said it.
Not to mention that should a drip, a single solitary drip, manage to land on Sam while washing his hands- he must change. It is not up for debate- he can't handle it. That usually produces and extra shirt or two in a day. The child can have dirt all over his entire face- but his shirt will be completely dry and his flip flops dust free. He hates that too- dusty flip flops. He washes them in the sink. And when he does he gets a drip or two of water on his shirt and must change. See how this works?
Anyway, back to my laundry. It's out of control and it always will be. But everyone has clean underwear (usually) and something to wear. And even if the towels aren't always folded, they are usually clean in a pile somewhere.
Afterall- I don't have time to focus on laundry with this important blog to maintain- sheesh.
Last night, or technically this morning, at 5:24 am I heard Sam rummaging in his drawers. Which can only mean one thing. I went to assist him with changing his bedding and I WILL BE DANGED if it didn't manage to leak around the wet pads I keep on his bed. Crap. I always insist that waterproof mattress pads are worth their weight in chocolate ice cream, until the waterproof back part rips and it begins to rip off every time you wash it. Then it's worth NOTHING. I've taken to laying crib mattress pads all over the mattress before I put the pad on- but this time I was not the winner- I was a giant looser. It had leaked in between them.
I take Sam to my bed, lay him down and listen to him babble for 10 minutes or so before he becomes silent. Two minutes later- here comes another one of my children (name omitted for sake of embarassing her to death) and she too had peed her bed. I kid you not it has been YEARS since this one did that. I just spit out the words "You have got to be kidding me" and hoisted my tired self back from the warm bed and went to her room to begin sheet strippage. This time though the waterproof pad did its job and I was able to get her all set to go back to sleep.
Two piles of bedding and wet jammies on my laundry room floor.
I climbed back into my bed just a few minutes before six am. My alarm begins going off at 6- 4 minutes later. Back up to begin washing loads of sheets and preparing children for school.
Fast forward to 8:00 am- Sam is tearing up his basket of clean laundry looking for fresh underwear. Apparently he has now peed MY bed.
That's it. God must be laughing his head off. Which makes it okay if I managed to give Him a chuckle. Otherwise I am on the verge of screaming and throwing in the towel. You know- the wet dirty one because I haven't had time to wash them either- and it won't happen today because apparently I am going to do 16 loads of bedding.
I was going to blog about Sam knocking my hair iron into the toilet last night. Somehow that is old news now.
May your morning be bright and your bedding be dry.
Not to mention that should a drip, a single solitary drip, manage to land on Sam while washing his hands- he must change. It is not up for debate- he can't handle it. That usually produces and extra shirt or two in a day. The child can have dirt all over his entire face- but his shirt will be completely dry and his flip flops dust free. He hates that too- dusty flip flops. He washes them in the sink. And when he does he gets a drip or two of water on his shirt and must change. See how this works?
Anyway, back to my laundry. It's out of control and it always will be. But everyone has clean underwear (usually) and something to wear. And even if the towels aren't always folded, they are usually clean in a pile somewhere.
Afterall- I don't have time to focus on laundry with this important blog to maintain- sheesh.
Last night, or technically this morning, at 5:24 am I heard Sam rummaging in his drawers. Which can only mean one thing. I went to assist him with changing his bedding and I WILL BE DANGED if it didn't manage to leak around the wet pads I keep on his bed. Crap. I always insist that waterproof mattress pads are worth their weight in chocolate ice cream, until the waterproof back part rips and it begins to rip off every time you wash it. Then it's worth NOTHING. I've taken to laying crib mattress pads all over the mattress before I put the pad on- but this time I was not the winner- I was a giant looser. It had leaked in between them.
I take Sam to my bed, lay him down and listen to him babble for 10 minutes or so before he becomes silent. Two minutes later- here comes another one of my children (name omitted for sake of embarassing her to death) and she too had peed her bed. I kid you not it has been YEARS since this one did that. I just spit out the words "You have got to be kidding me" and hoisted my tired self back from the warm bed and went to her room to begin sheet strippage. This time though the waterproof pad did its job and I was able to get her all set to go back to sleep.
Two piles of bedding and wet jammies on my laundry room floor.
I climbed back into my bed just a few minutes before six am. My alarm begins going off at 6- 4 minutes later. Back up to begin washing loads of sheets and preparing children for school.
Fast forward to 8:00 am- Sam is tearing up his basket of clean laundry looking for fresh underwear. Apparently he has now peed MY bed.
That's it. God must be laughing his head off. Which makes it okay if I managed to give Him a chuckle. Otherwise I am on the verge of screaming and throwing in the towel. You know- the wet dirty one because I haven't had time to wash them either- and it won't happen today because apparently I am going to do 16 loads of bedding.
I was going to blog about Sam knocking my hair iron into the toilet last night. Somehow that is old news now.
May your morning be bright and your bedding be dry.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it.......and I plan to.........
Prepare yourselves for what you are about to read. You will be forever changed.
I was in Super Target the other day and there- right on the end of the check out lane- was this.......
I was in Super Target the other day and there- right on the end of the check out lane- was this.......
Be still my heart. Quisp. Come to momma.
There was an entire endcap full of cereals from when I was a kid. Including Alpha Bits- which I was never a fan of. But Quisp? Oh......it ranked right up there with King Vitamin.
I was shrieking I was so happy- so then Sam was shrieking and cuddling the box too. He didn't know why, but he was. On the front it says something about a free t-shirt with three boxes and I instantly knew I needed five of them- so 15 boxes went into the cart.
And then I realized that was stupid- but I did buy one. But I wish I had bought two, because it was absolutely as yummy as it was *cough cough thirty cough cough* years ago. And even though I hid it in the cabinets my children found it and it is now all gone.
Here it is with my children. Well, two of them- Emily refused to participate......
Doesn't Ally look thrilled. No quisp for you my dear. But Sammy- he had two bowls.
It's like when they brought back the little smurf dolls and tiny smurf mushroom cottages a few years ago. These marketing companies are smart........and they know who has the cash.
They are marketing to our children.................... through us. And in this house, it is working.
Then we stopped at chick fil a and found this.......
This is kind of bitter sweet because I have said over and over and over in my head that they need to put ketchup in tiny trays so that we can skip the whole tear off little metal packages of ketchup and squirt them everywhere thing. And then you have a pile of ketchup on a freakin paper on the table and it leaks through and voila there is smeary ketchup everywhere. With tiny little corner triangle metalish ripped off things. What a mess. Apparently the ketchup master was speaking to more than just me, because here it is folks.
A beautiful thing.
And here they are together, with Emilys sneaky little fingers trying to steel them from my photo.
Two fabulous little items that made for a happy momma day.
Sad but true.
I'm thinking of starting a fan club.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Happy Day
Somehow, yesterday at 10:30 am when I was trying to awaken my Emily Sue, I couldn't help but to take pictures of her. She was out like a light, sleeping so sound that I had a hard time getting her to rouse.
There was lots of family, lots of friends and tons of fun to be had all weekend long.
And here is the proof- on her dirty little feet.
I am so thankful for a great weekend and all the dirty little feet that made it possible.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Family Photos
Never pass one of these photo booths again without climbing in. It was more fun than than I can describe. (Notice how only half of my face is moving- it was root canal day)
I love you family people.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Twins?
So I finally drag my sorry, procrastinating self to the dentist (only he calls himself an endo something or other) yesterday for the dreaded root canal. Finally. I scheduled it once earlier in the year, chickened out and cancelled it. Nothing like getting run over by a train when you have the option to move. And every time it hurts, I beg for mercy- swear I will get it fixed- cry like a big giant baby, start an antibiotic- and then the next day forget all about it. It's kind of like buying tires for the car. It just hurts to spend that much money on something that is working fine- at the moment. Blow one of those bad boys and all of a sudden it doesn't seem so stupid.
Anywho.
I enter. Fill out form. Read brochure about pulp, nerves, abscesses- yuck. Put that down. Pick up a People magazine- ahhhhh. Written in spanish- poop! Move on to the only other selection of magazine- healthy this, natural that, sporting whatever.
They call my name. Nurse asks 3000 questions while banging and tapping. Breaks out electrocution machine- says to let go of the probe when I feel the tingle. HOLY COW- I fly up out of the chair, cling to the light on the ceiling and scream. Tingle my behind. She moves on down to my 'problem' tooth that I have narrowed down to one of two possible tricksters. Tests them both- nothing.
Doctor comes in and asks how long I have been experiencing the problem. I side step around the topic 46 different directions before I admit it has been better than 3 years, as best I can recall, but maybe longer. He scolds me like a child and says that I new need not one but TWO root canals. Who? What?
I begin trying to explain that there is not a single way in any universe that I am going to be having two root canals today- while both of his hands, an xray probe, two pointy sharp metal things and a suctioner are in my mouth. I don't think he heard me.
Office girl sticks her head in and drops a big old bomb "Insurance caps out at $1000 annually" and runs like a soldier throwing a grenade. In my head, I am doing the math. One root canal=$980. My portion=20%. Less sales tax, minus gauze pads, plus parking validation. What does this mean? "You'll owe $800 for today's procedures" she screams back from under her desk.
No joke. Tears began streaming down my cheeks. Partly from the fear of TWO ROOT CANALS, the needle sticks that are happening all over my mouth- including on the roof, and mostly from my pissed offedness from spending that much money on something so stupid.
The doctor asks what I am afraid of. I may have been begging for gas at the time. "Sphending fat much money on thomething so thupid". Duh.
I am given a half hour to lay back and process the information, and the anesthetic. I eventually come to the conclusion that I need to proceed with both, get them over, fork over mountains of cash and put it all behind me. Whatever, right?
Drilling. Poking. Dust. X-rays. Tubey things. Springs up in my teeth. A balloon snapped over my head with a hole poked just for my tooth to stick out. Trying to breath through my nose with my mouth open wider than it is really capable of going. Drowning in my own saliva. More poking. Done.
My entire head was numb from the middle over- neck up to my eyes. Even that little flappy thing in the back of my throat was numb and causing me to suffocate. I was an attractive mess.
I now get to go for permanent fillings next week- which will involve more Novocaine I'm sure- and then I'm off to get two crowns (valued at $1000 EACH). I should be able to drive something that costs this much money.
Have I mentioned how much I hate the dentist. At least if I had dentures I could just mail them in for their procedures.
Anywho.
I enter. Fill out form. Read brochure about pulp, nerves, abscesses- yuck. Put that down. Pick up a People magazine- ahhhhh. Written in spanish- poop! Move on to the only other selection of magazine- healthy this, natural that, sporting whatever.
They call my name. Nurse asks 3000 questions while banging and tapping. Breaks out electrocution machine- says to let go of the probe when I feel the tingle. HOLY COW- I fly up out of the chair, cling to the light on the ceiling and scream. Tingle my behind. She moves on down to my 'problem' tooth that I have narrowed down to one of two possible tricksters. Tests them both- nothing.
Doctor comes in and asks how long I have been experiencing the problem. I side step around the topic 46 different directions before I admit it has been better than 3 years, as best I can recall, but maybe longer. He scolds me like a child and says that I new need not one but TWO root canals. Who? What?
I begin trying to explain that there is not a single way in any universe that I am going to be having two root canals today- while both of his hands, an xray probe, two pointy sharp metal things and a suctioner are in my mouth. I don't think he heard me.
Office girl sticks her head in and drops a big old bomb "Insurance caps out at $1000 annually" and runs like a soldier throwing a grenade. In my head, I am doing the math. One root canal=$980. My portion=20%. Less sales tax, minus gauze pads, plus parking validation. What does this mean? "You'll owe $800 for today's procedures" she screams back from under her desk.
No joke. Tears began streaming down my cheeks. Partly from the fear of TWO ROOT CANALS, the needle sticks that are happening all over my mouth- including on the roof, and mostly from my pissed offedness from spending that much money on something so stupid.
The doctor asks what I am afraid of. I may have been begging for gas at the time. "Sphending fat much money on thomething so thupid". Duh.
I am given a half hour to lay back and process the information, and the anesthetic. I eventually come to the conclusion that I need to proceed with both, get them over, fork over mountains of cash and put it all behind me. Whatever, right?
Drilling. Poking. Dust. X-rays. Tubey things. Springs up in my teeth. A balloon snapped over my head with a hole poked just for my tooth to stick out. Trying to breath through my nose with my mouth open wider than it is really capable of going. Drowning in my own saliva. More poking. Done.
My entire head was numb from the middle over- neck up to my eyes. Even that little flappy thing in the back of my throat was numb and causing me to suffocate. I was an attractive mess.
I now get to go for permanent fillings next week- which will involve more Novocaine I'm sure- and then I'm off to get two crowns (valued at $1000 EACH). I should be able to drive something that costs this much money.
Have I mentioned how much I hate the dentist. At least if I had dentures I could just mail them in for their procedures.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Practice makes perfect...............................or so they say
It is almost 9:00 at night. Allyson is on the back deck practicing her saxaphone.
Sam is doing what the neighbors are doing- taping his ears shut.
We may have to have her start practicing in the neighbors yard. Could she have picked a louder instrument?
4 more minutes until it is bedtime and I can put these kidsaway to sleep. I will then pop some kind of massive pain killer and hope that this pain in my teeth will subside. Today was my root canal day. Not the kind of exciting day you would think- what with such a catchy name and all.
Sam is doing what the neighbors are doing- taping his ears shut.
4 more minutes until it is bedtime and I can put these kids
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Goodbye Summer
August is over. Apparently it is now September.
Don't get me wrong. I am a sucka for the Fall. It is my absolute favorite time of the year. But could it really be upon us already? Is that possible? WHERE on earth could this year possibly be going in such an all fired hurry?
And why oh why is Sam awake at 6:45 in the morning?
Don't get me wrong. I am a sucka for the Fall. It is my absolute favorite time of the year. But could it really be upon us already? Is that possible? WHERE on earth could this year possibly be going in such an all fired hurry?
And why oh why is Sam awake at 6:45 in the morning?
Nothing good can come of this. He's already begging to go to the neighbors house and demanding chocolate milk. Just wait until he realizes I am in fact slapping in an excercise tape and taking over the living room for the next 30 minutes.
Today involves preschool, work, grocery store (if all goes well), a fresh and delicious made from scratch dinner (ahhhh I crack myself up) and a girl scout meeting. Dan is working nights this week. Our laundry is quickly approaching 'red alert' status. And I'm having a root canal tomorrow. With any luck Emily will declare- at 9pm tonight as well- that she in fact never did do her homework again and we'll be up until 9:30 with a cranky momma complaining and griping.
It's a charmed life we live here.
Yeah- these don't really have anything to do with anything. Just air conditioner condensation dripping off a charm. Poetic, isn't it?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)