Murphy's Law

Murphy's laws, and how they pertain to me today.

•If anything can go wrong, it will. I'm sick, George is sick. Baby Boots is feeling better (which means he's up to mischief). King Kong is at work.

•If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong. I'm just waiting for the girls to start barfing. Boots getting diarrhea would also be very bad.

•If anything just cannot go wrong, it will anyway. I thought being stuck home in a blizzard with the possiblity to run out of diapers was a tad stressful. Now, add sick to that. So even if I could go somewhere, I can't. I found 4. Hopefully I can stretch them out til Kong gets home.

•If you perceive that there are four possible ways in which something can go wrong, and circumvent these, then a fifth way, unprepared for, will promptly develop. I'm sick, kid/s are sick, except the holy terror child who is running and on the loose, we are in a winter weather advisory, and I have no diapers. Oh, but that fifth unprepared for thing, yeah, Kong called and picked up an extra shift, so he may not be coming home til tomorrow, depending on the weather today. Nice.

•Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse. This one pertains to the smallest, most destructive and mischievious monkey, Boots. He might be the baby, but he sure is a little stinker. If someone could only figure out how to bottle all that energy, they would be rich beyond imagination, and would probably win every Nobel prize there was to be had. Mother's everywhere would rejoice that the playing field would be leveled. So far, he's dismantled all the toys I picked up this morning, played in the sink, played in the bathroom sink, eaten things out of the garbage, and had a number of tantrums.

•If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something. Body aches. I forgot about body aches. ugh.

•Nature always sides with the hidden flaw. I don't know if I could handle hidden flaws today. Please GOD! Spare me.

•Mother nature is a bitch. Vomiting and diarrhea. This needs no further explanation as to why it sucks. The good thing - Aunt Flo is not visiting. (also, I am not actually vomiting yet, but it's a definite possiblity. I've gone to the throne room in anticipation at least 5 times.)

It never ceases to amaze me how certain things that would be made so much easier with two adults present only happen when King Kong is at work. (And he's a truck driver, so he's hours away, not just a 20 min drive and will be home in a few hrs, or can come at a moments notice. My hub generally works 18-22 hr shifts, more or less.)

Like the time I got a kidney stone, though I didn't know what it was at the time, and had to pack up the kids and haul myself to the ER at 3 in the morning. Thank God my brother lives 2 blocks away so he could load the kids in the car for me, and my mom and dad took them while I was otherwise jacked up on morphine. Oh, and did I mention I was 8 months pregnant?

Or the many times when the kids have gotten the pukies, like today, and I'm manning the masses all by my lonesome? (Which is easier than taking care of one sick grown man.)

Or the time I had a fever that knocked me on my keister so completely that I literally couldn't move from the couch? A fairy name Tinkerbelle came and saved the day (aka. my mommy). She even did the dishes.

Now, this kind of sounds like a pity party, but I assure you it's not. It just my way to find humor in an otherwise humorless situation. Because today, we've got the flu. ugh.

The thing worth pointing out, however, is that there is always something good, some way that God shows you he is taking care of your needs. Luckily my family lives close by and can help me in times of need, even at 3 o'clock in the morning, or to come do dishes and wrangle children. And if husbands aren't home and around sick people, they can't get sick. So they can go on providing for their family, and the wifey doesn't have the task of waiting hand and foot on the worst wussy patient ever one more person while she is also sick.

:D

Why NOT, Monday

After spending the last 2 hrs reading Not Me Monday posts, I decided I probably can come up with something to share. So why Not! :D Because I do NOT have an eventful life, it is NOT a comedy of errors.  There is never anything that is improper, inappropriate, unwise, or unsanitary going on in this house. And I just don't have anything that needs to be done around here. If you'd like to get in on the fun, or read a little more about all the other tales of things people did "NOT" do this week, just head on over to MckMama's blog for a little blog carnival therapy. Or, as I call it, share-apy.

I would have NEVER told my husband, upon hearing his complaint about having to wear dirty jeans today, "well, now you're just like the rest of us."

I did NOT just remember I needed to buy diapers today. We are NOT in the middle of a snow storm, so going to the store is not an option. Crap. (And I hope not too much of it.)

Of Friday evening, as we were calmly having a bedtime story, the 3 monkeys and I did NOT all watch in utter surprise and horror as Baby Boots puked all over Koko's bed. And by watch, I mean, literally just sat, and watched. 3 waves of barf, people. I then did NOT have to rush Miss Cheeks out. of. the. room. as she was making her own heaving noises. (you know how you watch and smell, and then it gets to you.)

I did NOT host a birthday party, despite a very sick Baby Boots. I did NOT figure that my warning people and putting him down for a nap during the festivities would be good enough preventative measures.

On my Things To Do Before the Birthday Pary Cleaning List, I did NOT have cleaning the turtle tank as a top priority, before cleaning the bathroom even. I was NOT worried that someone would call PETA on me for animal cruelty, as the water was, um, let's just say "not clear." (It's all good now.)

The birthday party was NOT a success, and my girl did NOT haul in!!! She hit the jackpot of gifts. (FYI: tacos in a bag/walking tacos are a big hit, and super easy.) It was NOT a cute but easy "pink" party.

This is NOT my daughter with a balloon under her dress, saying she's pregnant. Her grandmother did NOT put it there saying, "look, now you're just like mommy." Ahem.

And NO, I'm not pregnant.

Sigh. Now that it's 5 hours after I started this post, I've forgotten all the good stuff. This will have to do.

You are good

Koko is my more "spiritual" of the children. She is more apt to pray, to talk about God, to ask questions. It's sweet and warms a mama's banana-filled heart.

The other day at breakfast, she and I were sitting at the table. She had her head resting on her hands, elbows on the table, and she said she had a dream about God and Jesus. Naturally, I was very interested to hear about this. Keeping a calm demeanor, I asker her to tell me the dream. At first I thought she was maybe making it up, just retelling a story, but the whole time she told it, she had this funny, sheepish grin on her face. Like it was special, but she was a little shy to share it. She has told the story of her dream 4 times now, and each time it is exactly the same.

The dream:
I had a dream about God and Jesus. I want to be with them where they live. I killed a giant with 30,000 stones (yes, we've read this story recently) and they said I saved the world. Then an angel came and gave me a message. It said "Koko, you are very good. Signed, Good Girl."

I asked her later to describe God and she couldn't. But she did describe the angel:
It had super long wings, it had super long hair, it was a girl and had earrings. And gave me some (earrings).

Isn't that awesome, to have a dream where God tells you you are good? Isn't that what everyone longs to hear? 'and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: "You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased."' Luke 3:22

What a lucky girl.

Who decided it's Terrible Twos?

I think a reworking of the age / characteristic thing is in order. It's totally wrong. My experience hasn't gone very far yet, but from what I know, it's not what they say.

One's

I don't know what they call ones, but let's just say it's very busy. It's a wear-out-the-mama non-stop kind of busy. The kind where your house will never be clean, the floor never picked up, and don't leave anything out anywhere if you don't want it chewed, dunked in the sink/toilet, or chucked from across the room. Ones are when the most glasses are broken, the most chairs climbed, the most things-that-shouldn't-be-put-in-the-mouth get put in the mouth. You also find yourself running the most, because they usually learn to walk and a few days later they stop. Because they are running. And bolting. Out the door, across parking lots, through the mall, in crowded church hallways. They also discover their innate skill of tantrumming. It does not matter if they have a model for this behavior or not. I'm telling you, it's innate. Like breathing. They just know how to do it. They understand what "no" means, but they are powerless to stop themselves. Which means, you have to do it for them. Over and over and over again. As a mother of a one year old, you usually find yourself at the end of the day flopping down in a chair completely exhausted. One's are definitely On The Go.

Two's

This one year old busy behavior extends into the Two's, though I find the two's much more enjoyable. They are beginnning to understand no and how to control themselves. They can express themselves more, can feed themselves and ask for things they want (though they are yet clueless to all the things out there that they could want, unlike the 4 and up set). The tantrums, in my experience, seem to wane a little, so they are much less intense, and not as frequent. They tend to be happy with whatever you give them; they're just happy they're getting something. They still tend to color on the wall, and certainly can't be trusted with things like markers, scissors, glue or paint. A very watchful eye is still important, but whereas at one they couldn't "do," now they can, a little. Their preferences aren't yet developed, except for food, so mother's of picky eaters beware, they do start power struggles now. They are very entertaining with their language abilities (or lack thereof) and how they mispronounce things. Physically, they try new things, and are so excited and proud of all their own accomplishments - jumping, scribbling, putting on their shoes (though this can sometimes be a challenge - when they won't put them on or won't keep them on). Everything is a wonder to them, and it's exciting to be in this awe-filled magical stage with them. I found the Two's Terrific.

(We are now not currently in this stage of Two's, so I apologize if I forgot certain defining characteristics. Maybe I'll update this next year when I've had a refresher course. But having completed 2 three's and just now entering a third, I still say two's are better.)

Three's

Something happens on birthdays. (And this can happen for all ages.) By that, I don't mean  cake, presents and parties. I mean, an attitude change. Seriously, it's like overnight. ON their birthday. It's like Dr. Jeckyl Mr. Hyde. The sassy pants comes out. The scowling, the whining. Seriously? I want my sweet little dumpling back. The fun part is the development of their imagination. Seeing more of their real personality emerge. Watching them physically change from the belly-bulging baby to a lean mean wiggling preschooler machine. They can now dress themselves, which lends to some interesting outfits. The three's can be fun, exploratory, with new freedoms. But the attitude?  The pouting? Generally, I find the Three's Trying. As in, Trying My Patience.

Four's

Four is better. They can do, they can be left alone for 5 minutes. You don't have to worry as much about them eating the crayons/markers/glue. They don't try to cut their own hair as much. They are more independent, and love love love playing pretend. (Plus, they can wipe their own butt. Does it get better than that? haha) Reasoning skills come out, so they start to understand more. Which also brings on the questions (though I've yet to have a kid who really did the whole "why? why?" thing. knock on wood). They love learning new words, and making up their own. Especially girls. Oh, and let's not forget the jokes. You know? How did the chicken cross the lasagna restaurant? Cockapoodle poodle. Yep. That one. I love seeing their mind devolop, their interest in the world around them, their becoming part of the world around them. And they still need their mom. Plus, my four year old (soon to be 5) frequently calls me Genius. So Four's? I'll say Fantastic.

Five's

Five is just like four, but better. Well, so far. I have only fully experienced them with a very easy-going boy. But Koko is now entering them. So far, what I see I like. Let's hope it keeps up. This is the age when they leave home (Kindergarten), and the outside world comes into your cocoon. All the protecting you've done, and now, they're out there without you. While they may meet it with some excitement and some trepidation, it's awesome to see how they adapt, how quickly they learn, and how it's all seperate from you. Now you're in the teaching and guiding phase (because they know some stuff you taught them, learned some stuff you didn't teach them, and how to use that to navigate life). There are certain times of frustration, like in the grocery store when they ask you a million times for a thousand different things they "need." Or making them do school work when it's hard and they get frustrated. But all in all, I'd say Five's are Phenomenal.

I hear it really gets good when they're about 8.

While it's a blessing to be a parent to awesome kids, parenting is NEVER easy. There are always challenges. Right now, my challenges are clearly of the one and three year old kind. If I could get my kids to stop getting into stuff, making messes, needing to be fed/bathed/dressed, eliminate whining/fighting/tattling/tantrums, life would be a breeze. Right?

Three 3

My third is Three!

The biggest of my babes, by 1 lb 6 oz, she rang in at 8 lbs 5 oz. She had the most, darkest, and craziest head of hair that her auntie loved to smoothe into a faux-hawk.

She was the baby that caused many people in my church to reconsider thoughts of having one/another one. She was very content, rarely cried, but she let you know if something bothered her.

She is never clean. Her face is always dirty, her clothes are always dirty. That is, IF she is wearing any. She likes to get dressed, but doesn't tend to stay that way. She has a very serious side, but at the same time is so hilarious. Mostly she doesn't know it, or doesn't try, she just is. She cracks us right up. Sometimes she laughs right along with us, sometimes we get the equally funny "mOOooom. Don't laaay-yaaaff."

The child who still sucks her two fingers, on the left hand. Who still carries around her blankie, and has passed this behavior on to her successor. She's about as easy to convince and as spacey as they come. She can tell you that green beans are yucky, but you reply with a "no, they're yummy." To which she replies, "they are?" and then procedes to eat them, fully convinced.
 

Her spacey-ness causes her to fall all. the. time. Usually gashing her poor little lips. The only child of ours of yet to have necessitated a bloody trip to the ER. Twice. I don't even blink anymore. I just grab a washcloth.

She loves to laugh, pretend, dance, and play dress up. She very much loves the color pink, but she's not picky and is usually happy with whatever comes her way (which balances out her older sister quite nicely for the mama).

Happy Birthday, sweet Cheeks!

I love Mondays, husband edition

I love Mondays. You may think it's an illness. Or an unsquashable tendency to look to hope.

Lamentations 3: 17 I have been deprived of peace; I have forgotten what prosperity is. 18 So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the Lord." 19 I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. 20 I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. 21 Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: 22 Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. 23 They are new every Monday morning; great is your faithfulness.

And this Monday is dedicated to my hubs, dear sweet, ever grumpy King Kong, who lovingly tidied up the house yesterday, even scrubbing the puke out of the toilet, and was smiling when I got home.

Hebrews 11:1 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

I love... his sexy legs. Yup. They're niiiice. I'd show you a picture, but I'd have to take a pic of him in his "shorts" and he might balk at that.

I love... seeing the wedding ring I gave him on his strong rough hands. Diamond in the rough (or gold, as it were). It looks like it belongs. We belong.

I love... his boyish enthusiasm, as much as it also drives me nutso. His sceming and planning and dreaming.

I love... how he's not shy about loving on his kids.

I love... and admire how he speaks of my good qualities to others, not about how he's frustrated with a messy house or my complaining ways.

So... this is my own bloggy concoction that hasn't caught on. Too bad. If you'd like to write your own list of things you love, feel free to put a link in the comments on this post. I'd get a Linky, but I doubt anyone would link, and I couldn't handle the rejection. So link, or not. :D

That's how I roll. Well, sometimes.

Hello Monday. It's been a while.

I have missed you, Monday. It has certainly not been me who has been cranky and crotchety, too much so to blog. But I'm here today. With bells on. Not really. We put all the bells away yesterday. Not really.

Moving on.

I got a new under-the-cabinet radio for Christmas. LOVE. IT. And thanks to my dear sweet hubby who finally installed it. It has been nice to be able to listen to music while slaving away in the kitchen. I have enjoyed all kinds of stations. Most recently it has been set on "80's, 90's and Today." You know the kind.

It was not my firstborn, George, who was doing some kind of dance moves reminiscent of break dancing. I did not wonder where in the heck he even saw that kind of stuff. And when he told me this was "guy's music" I did not nearly choke on my coffee when I realized that the song being played was "Talk Dirty to Me," by Poison.

Why yes, pal, it is. Because that would definitely fit daddy's tastes more than mine. Too much hairspray and spandex for me. I was more of a black with eyeliner kind of girl. Throw in some Chuck's and I was there! (too cute!)

Shortly after the break dancing incident, I did not find Baby Boots (who should be renamed Baby Holy Terror) sitting on top of my kitchen table chewing on a plastic tampon applicator. Yes, you read that right. No, I do not know where the rest of it went.

Koko recently told me she wanted to be a judge. I found this interesting and wondered if she even knew what a judge was. Naturally, I asked her what a judge does. She did not reply, "you know, they have one of those little hammers they wave around and stuff."

I get a little bored, despite the mounds of stuff that needs to be attended to, or the little monkeys  hanging off my apendages. We have a Bookmobile that visits our little town (conveniently parking just down from my house, which is a good reminder as I'm usually washing dishes when I hear the rumble and see it's lights while I'm washing dishes) but with the Christmas holidays and the weather we've had recently, she hasn't come. Desperate for something to read, I purchased a book at the dollar store. Set in London, about a stay-at-home-mom and all her escapades. The mom is horribly unorganized (in a way I could never be, seriously) and just when I thought of ditching the book, her happenchance mishaps had me nearly rolling on the floor. My monkeys did not look at me like I'd fallen off my tree branch - who is this lady who's laughing so hard? After a minute or two of my crazy outbursts, they were not laughing right along with me, nevermind not knowing about what.

At one point in reading this book, I did not have to take it to read sitting in the bathroom, to prevent any further accidents. mhm.

I can't say I'd recommend the book, but I haven't laughed that hard in a looooonnngg time. Nor have I been so happy to finish reading a book. Fa realz!

I came home from church yesterday to find that King Kong had taken my not-so-subtle suggestion and picked up the house. Not actually believing he would do it, I did not cry with relief as seeing one less thing on my plate for the day. He does not probably think his wife is a loon. About which I could care less because my living room was clean and he even scrubbed the toilet.

As for Cheeks, she is a never-ending amusement in our household, but one I sometimes have trouble finding humor in. Especially in the absent-minded accidents involving her face, the floor, and blood. But nevermind that. Lately she has been very interested in "ponytails" (otherwise known as barrettes), though they still only stay in about 10 mins tops. And I am not very excited about her upcoming third birthday, even though I don't have a darned thing planned. I'm just excited to see her grow. And last night at supper, she did not keep asking for more aweful. This is the only time I have found it amusing to have my homecooked meal (read full turkey dinner with homemade pie and everything) called aweful. aka olives.

Oh, and about the bells, it's not me who has yet to take down the Christmas tree that never even got decorated.

Now, go (read more fun not tales at MckMama's place) and prosper.