All My Monkeys

Perspective

2012-01-10T14:36:00.002-06:00

I enjoy seeing things from a different perspective. I think it helps me be more empathetic and understanding. Here is a perspective I never would have had if not for a little boy with some stolen camera time.

Taken from Boot's favorite hiding place, under the play table in our "breakfast nook/back entry" area.

We also have some great, albeit blurry, shots up his nose, and some really fantastic shots of the ceiling.

On a roll

2012-01-07T00:30:00.000-06:00

I've noticed that I blog in spurts. (Blog roll. Get it? hardy har har) I'll sit down and write 3 posts in a row, then not do any for two weeks. Inconsistently consistent? Or consistently inconsistent? However it lands, I'm sort of both. You're welcome for that stunning revelation. *big cheesy grin*

While I still haven't gotten a mini voice recorder, I did grab pen and paper this morning, as my son was also "on a roll." A typically loud, energetic, random roll of talking about weird things, singing made-up songs, and finding a million new and funny ways (because it's always funny - not) to say "butt." Because "butt" is the funniest word in the world to a three year old.

I think this pic hints at his mischievious and enthusiastic nature. Don't you?

Boots loves to greet the morning with, um, enthusiasm. We are often awakened by his boisterous shouts (other times it could be described as screaming) that "it's morning, not time to sleep anymore." Another trick he has is to turn on lights... while you're sleeping. And it's still dark. (flashback to high school. I hated mornings then.) He is not always greeted warmly, in return. As was the case this morning.

Boots will often continue his rant, sometime for a couple hours, with some pretty interesting, and random, conversation. Not that anyone is really responding. He also is known to do this in the car. Which, in confined quarters, is annoying, and yet funny.

I'll just give you a play by play of sorts of his Morning Chatter.

He sang songs to Huggy who was still in his crib, and protesting that fact. The tune: "don't cry, Nookus."

While I made breakfast, he played with his Alvin (chipmunk) Happy Meal toy and sang the ever popular "Poop, poop, poop in yer pants, poop, poop, poop in yer pants, poop, poop, poop in yer pants, poop, poop on yer tail." HA HA HA. POOP ON YOUR TAIL, Mommy.

Yeah, that's funny. *shakes head*

Playing with big brother's toy, the Zyclone Zing Ring Turbo Blaster (in action here):

Is this a wheel bullet? It looks like a halo. (puts it on his head) It looks like money. (Spins it on floor.) It's a wheel. (Rolls it) Then sings, "It's a tire, it's a tire."

Next, a rousing rendition of "Rapidam dam dam, rapidam dam dam... (for a total of six times)"

That ended the singing and he moved on to flicking pony beads across the kitchen floor, with great excitement when one would go under the refrigerator. Ought to be a good surprise next time I clean under there. Ahem.

Now, he's moved on to playing his toy guitar while wearing his Incredibles underwear backwards. They're sort of cheeky that way. (If he wasn't in his underwear, and not wanting to put that out for the world of pervs to see, I'd video it.) He holds his (imaginary) pick, strums as one should, jams and has a rather good guitar player stance. Just like his daddy.

Never a dull moment. Never a dull moment.

Bits of blogginess

2012-01-04T23:18:00.002-06:00

Man, do I have a night owl. It's 9:42 (it was when I was started writing this) and George is still putzing around upstairs, listening to his radio. I could probably bust him with the light on... And I did. Yep. Paging thru a book, music blaring. Ok, not blaring, but it's loud for trying to sleep. And he wonders why he's tired when I wake him up for school.

****

I am quite possible addicted to these:

But selling them at $10 a bag? I think that's a little excessive. I'm sure I paid under $3 bucks. And it's definitely worth $3 bucks.

These are fabulous too.

See a theme?

But again, $11.95? Really, people?

****

I don't like Seattle's Best coffee. Or Folgers. So far, I'm good with Millstone's Hazelnut Cream. Most days though, I will shamelessly say I'm happy with my milk / Nescafe instant coffee latte-like concoction.

****

I took Huggyface to the doc ~~today~~ yesterday. It was the doc's first day back from maternity leave. Man, if we could all look that good after 10 weeks. (Have I mentioned, btw, how much I love my ped? She's awesome. A much appreciated improvement over the last ~~she-devil~~ ped we had. If you want the story, just ask.) Anyway. Boy's growing like a weed, walking a-a-l-l-l-l over the exam room, wearing the stethescope like he's in charge. He's just not a baby anymore. sniffle sniffle. At 13 months and 4 days, he weighs in at 22 lbs 8 oz (37%) and 29 1/2 inches (28%). The part I can't figure out is combining height to weight ratio he ranks at 78th percentile. I'd say she got it wrong but the computer does it all for you I think. Computer wrong?

Since we delayed vacc's with Huggyface (and Boots), we started those ~~today~~ yesterday. Also, since I apparently didn't keep up on things with Boots, and upon filling out preschool registration paperwork realized he hadn't had his MMR yet (oops!), I asked about him too. W-e-e-l-l-l, I got them both signed up for shots galore. I had Boots go first for his 3 shots. He did AMAZING with the first. No crying. Just sort of matter-of-factly said "Ouch. That hurt." I was shocked, and impressed. But shots 2 and 3 in the other arm were not quite as fun, with #3 (the MMR, I believe) burning and bringing quite the rush of tears and screaming. Sorry, fella. Huggyface was next and did as well as could be expected with his 3. Once we left the doc's, though, we hit up Micky D's for some much needed ice cream cone consolation. Sorry, poor Huggy. None for you. Too messy to let you man it alone in the car.

****

We have a couple picky eaters in our house. George being the most picky, and each other monkey having certain things they don't like. Generally, I don't fight it. One of the battles I choose not to pick. I do make them try things, but after trying a certain number of times, I just know that this kid won't eat gravy, another one tomatoes, the next hot dogs. George has been trying "new" things lately. After last years turnaround on mashed potatoes, we have gotten him to be more open to things he thought he didn't like. Most recently it's rice. The kid will eat noodles like crazy (although for a long time it was only certain shaped noodles - they're all the same, buddy!) I accidentally put some rice on his plate, just a spoonful, and told him he could suffer through tasting it. He asked if he could put butter on it, which I obliged, and blammo, he likes rice now. Boots, he won't eat it at all. George and Cheeks also switched side on cucumbers, which George now enjoys and Cheeks refuses to eat. Go figure. Boots could eat his weight in fresh fruits and veggies if you let him. Koko is the one with refined tastes and while she refuses things like chicken nuggets, hot dogs, and occasionally mac-n-cheese, she will be the first one to volunteer to eat shrimp, Chinese food even if it's spicy, or some kind of sauce that only adults are eating. (Diva in process?) Huggy is also quite picky, which can be normal in babies just trying new foods, but I think he also has texture issues. Gre-e-e-a-a-at. He still prefers that I feed him, has a preference for sweets, and a dislike for meats. I have found, though, that putting food on his tray and walking away, not checking to see if he eats, has worked in getting him to eat things he might not prefer, to, say, applesauce and squash (his favorite). Since George won't eat any cooked vegetables, we eat a LOT of crudites. Broccoli, celery, carrots, cukes. With Ranch. Last night at supper, as Huggy was picking at his butter beans and chicken chunks, I threw a tiny piece of broccoli on his tray. Butter my buns and call me a biscuit if that kid didn't eat it. So I gave him more. I find it completely ironic that picky eaters will eat raw broccoli, the supposed most hated vegetable by kids. George also likes raw spinach. I don't understand it, I just serve it. And cheer!

****

I really need to buy a mini voice recorder or something. I can't tell you how many funny things my kids will say, and I'll be darned if I can't even remember it long enough to find pen and paper. I had a blog post started, but by the time I started to type out what 'she' said, I'd forgotten. It was really good, too. You're sad you missed it, huh?

****

Again I'll leave you with a video, this time of my cutie patootie Huggy boy. I think I missed all opportunities for the feet documentary, and even first steps videos. But this one captures him still in his early walker phase, drunken sailor / caveman stance and all. Plus, can I just brag for a minute that one of his first words is Thank You? Mama, Dada, cracker, hat, go and Thank you. That's right. Proof positive that we really do try to teach our children manners. And as you will see, he makes this goofy, hammin' it up for the camera face that is just hilarious, and we try to get him to do it all the time. Glad it's recorded here for ya'll.

Long time no write. It's been since... last year.

2012-01-04T23:17:00.005-06:00

Glad Tidings to all you parents who are elated that school is back in session. Er, I mean, that celebrated the Birth of our Savior. uh, Yeah, that too. ;)

Our live tree, which smelled soooo good, all ready to go for Christmas morn gift-a-palooza.

We had a fairly stellar holiday season, with the man in red (or black, I can't remember what he was wearing) dropping ridiculous gifts upon our doorstep. Let's just say, there were some very happy kids around here.

And now I'm happy to have them back in school where they are not tattling on each other all day. I know there are moms who love the time with their kids and are sad to see them go, but there are just as many who breathe a deep sigh of relief on that first day back to school. (Just in time to turn around and see all the laundry.)

I love my kids, but I'm still in that stage of life where it's all a LOT of work, and there's hardly an ounce of rest for me. I was so pooped from shenanigan patrol on Christmas day (and let's not forget the night before's gift wrap and set up maneuvers til 1:30 a.m.), that when Kong awoke from his nap (he was between work shifts and still very sleep deprived), I cried when I told him how exhausted I was. And then I apologized for not making supper. It just wasn't going to happen.

All that stimulation was just about overload for a certain little 3 year old boy, who runs from one thing he shouldn't be doing/touching/dumping all over kingdom come to another. You would think that getting to be outside for about two and a half hours riding around in your new Jeep car would be just what the doctor ordered. Apparently, he should have been running during that time, as he was not tuckered out or sufficiently entertained in. the. least. (Any tips on how to break his wild and willfulness would be much appreciated.) I spent a lot of time with that kid over the break (and still), mostly in an effort to keep him out of trouble (which is like telling him not to breathe), as well as with the others, doing projects and crafts and Erector sets, etc. Cheeks and I still have yet to bust out the EasyBake Oven, but that might be accomplished tomorrow. It's fun but exhausting, all this playing with your kids, and not a darn thing got accomplished besides that and meals, and just barely at that.

I was so pleased that we got to have my hubba hubba with us for the whole 2 days of Christmas, as the holiday landed on the weekend when he isn't scheduled to work. He had to work til Friday night and then back on Monday morning for an extra round, but at least he was home for the main stuff. I also got to have him help me with gift shopping this year which was a total bonus for me. Yes, this meant I got a Date Night!!! Holla! I hate making all those decisions by myself, and trying to cram it all into stolen moments. It was nice to share in the fun of figuring it all out. However, we probably spent more money than will ever be spent in Christmases to come. But hey, we NEVER do that, and don't really even buy toys any other time besides birthdays (which I'm realizing I may need to remedy some) so I don't feel guilty in the least that we splurged.

We also got to spend time with our extended families on Christmas eve, and enjoyed all the food and camaraderie that goes with that. I did miss going to the Christmas Eve service this year, my favorite part, but it just didn't work out with our schedule.

And going a bit backwards, I have been really trying lately to clean up certain areas, reorganize, rearrange, and clear out crap and clutter. Since Kong worked all week up til Christmas, I tried really hard to do some things that would make him feel good to be home. I busted my buns cleaning the house. I got our tree decorated and lights strung up on windows around the house, and a wreath hung up on the front door. He came home on Friday night to a Christmas-y home, clean enough that you could tell the difference, and since I took the kids for more shopping, it was quiet. The biggest impact, however, was felt in the bedroom. Hm. Did I say that right? giggle. uh... anyway. :D I finally put away stacks of summer clothes and extra bedding that were out of storage and dumped on the floor (one because I hadn't gotten to it yet, and two because we had water damage issues in our closet where they are stored). I cleaned out some of his dresser, and also my dresser, which meant I had 2 large bags to take to the thrift store (and that was after the load I had taken there only days earlier). In the end, you could actually see the top of my dresser. Wow, so that's what it looks like! Also, I bought myself a jewelry stand and wanted to be able to put it on my dresser. But whatever it takes, right? I washed the sheets and made the bed, cleaned off my nightstand and dusted. Swept the floor (it's wood) and shook the rugs. When he walked in I had side lamps on to make it feel warm and cozy. The next morning he told me that he was so surprised our bedroom had "atmosphere." lol It's the little things, right?

And now we're settling back in to school routines and homework. I'm catching up on laundry, well, if the dryer doesn't fully go kaput, that is, and regaining balance. It feels good. And there are good things just around the corner.

I will leave you with a video of our gift opening mahem, showing the joy and excitement of little kids on Christmas morning. It's about 2 mins long.

Did you know...

Wise Men Still Seek Him.

Pucker up. Watch for slime.

2011-12-24T00:14:00.000-06:00

I got this as a gift ?last year. I told a friend that I didn't think I had ever seen mistletoe, and so as a kind of joke she got this for me. I thought it was funny. Then I read the package. This just isn't your ordinary, run of the mill mistletoe.

It's "Grow Your Own" Mistletoe. What's not to like about that?

The second thing of note is how it's a "great way to get that holiday smooch you've been hoping for."

This will be funnier later.

It's also interesting to know that it grows to 600% of it's size. So how big is that exactly? (For the record, mine didn't grow that big, but maybe it's because it's a year old.)

Thirdly, "As your toy grows it may distort in shape. This is part of the fun." Really? So now, it's large, soggy, and distorted. Let's not forget fun! Good, distorted fun. Ahhh....

Finally, the part that kills me... "The slimy, icky, texture is normal and harmless."

Did they really just put "icky" in there???

So now this Grow Your Own Mistletoe is large, soggy, distorted, slimy and icky. And of coarse harmless and fun. Good stuff!

What I haven't quite figured out yet is... how do you hang it? Remember, it's slimy. And do I really want to risk standing under it? Makes ya wanna reach out and smooch somebody with all that slimy, icky-ness, huh?

**Thanks to P for this humorous gift. I have giggled a lot.

Maintaining Innocence

2011-12-23T23:38:00.000-06:00

Our tree. Smells so good.

We're almost there. The hurried errands, the last minute buys, quick trips to the store for forgotten laundry soap. Then, meals will be eaten, family moments made. Soon it will all be quiet, and calm. Visions of sugar ~~plums~~ dancing in heads. Or something of that sort. I can't wait.

As a mom of many littles, moments of quiet are few and far between, and it seems I'm constantly trying to force out those moments instead of embracing the noise. But soon... I will embrace. Young or not so young, we all have eager anticipation of noisy family gatherings and Christmas morning madness, of finding out what Santa brought, and seeing little faces light up.

It's a magical age to be young and full of wonder. It can be a little sad when the mystery of the Man in the Red Suit is debunked, an end of innocence, in a way. As George recently turned eight, we're getting close to that, and someone at school told him Santa wasn't real. He brought this up at supper one evening. I quickly whisked him off to another room, away from sibling ears, to have a chat about it. Ok, so now he knows, but don't spoil the fun for other kids who still believe, I told him. It's magical and exciting pretend fun, so play along. He asked if he could tell his cousin. I told him I'd get back to him on that.

Eventually he did tell his cousin, who wasn't in the least bit interested in believing it. at. all. and many arguments ensued. We actually had to "separate" them and not allow them to hang out for a few days. Funny thing is, apparently George really wasn't sold on it either, and has since decided that Santa is in fact real. I know he's still questioning it, but he's just not quite ready to give up that magic. And that's just fine with me. I'll be happy to keep him my little boy for a little while longer.

Nothing important

2011-12-05T14:13:00.001-06:00

I don't really have anything important to say, no great story or moving message. Just a bunch of little, dumb thoughts.

Like...

I am thinking of making a mini-movie of my baby's feet. Because they're so darned cute, and soon he'll be walking (REALLY SOON) and those cute little feet won't be crawling around my living room anymore. I just love looking at his adorable, curled toes. I'm enamored with how he'll sit on his knees, little toesies sticking out the back. Little round balls of munchkin yumminess.

Arguments with your spouse can be really good for your house. (The bad part about marital spats is when you have to apologize to your spouse for your bad attitude and selfishness. :P) The other night, while I was ~~a pouting brat~~ upset, I put the kids to bed and tackled my "green room." Den? Sitting room? Whatever you call it, it needed some love. Well, my whole house needs love, but I want to put the Christmas tree in there, and I needed to clear a space for it. So while hubby was playing guitar at a neighbors house, I was emptied the room of the smaller furniture, rugs included, dusted, rearranged, and scrubbed the floor on hands and knees with a scrub brush. It has an old wide-planked wood floor that we painted, but it's pointless to wash it with a mop, as evident my the disgusting dirt paths left where rugs didn't cover. Couldn't hardly clean a room and just sorta wash the floor. I was in the midst of this when the Kong walked in at 2AM. He was shocked to 1. find me still awake, and 2. to find me cleaning. I still have a few things that need new homes, to clean off the desktop, and a load for recycling and thrift store, but it looks much improved, a place you'd want to be. The furniture arrangement, and some de-cluttering, helped a lot.

The couch had been under the window, the corner tv stand next to the brown bookshelf.

That couch, while it may be old and the fabric not what you'd choose, is the bomb. It's a Flexsteel, for starters. We got it for $25 at a rummage sale. The fabric is durable and the couch is comfortable. Kong has take many a nap there. All she needs is a couch cover. Yeah... I'll get to that. Eventually. Maybe.

One frustrating part about doing that level of cleaning is that it makes you realize just how badly you need to repaint. Walls and floor. sigh.

This brown bookshelf is NOT the prettiest thing we own. The problem is... it provides some much needed, very functionally important storage, something we seriously lack. By moving the couch to the middle of the room, it created a nicely defined seating area, while still leaving a path to the bathroom (door on the right). By moving the corner tv stand to, ahem, a corner, I was able to actually center the bookshelf on this wall. It may seem like an obvious thing to do, but it made a huge difference in the not-so-ugly-anymore factor. Also, this bookshelf is what you see through the large picture window. A little decluttering (and as I look at this picture I can see already that a storage box has gotten stashed on top of the books. erg.) and yay - eyesore no more.

I wanted to do some kind of Advent activities with the kids. It's December 5th and I haven't started yet. sigh. I have such great intentions and such HORRIBLE implementation. Hello, chore charts and allowances, math facts and reading time? Ugh.

I signed my two preschoolers up for ABCmouse. There was a free month offer so I tried it. It's great. Cheeks loves it. (Boots hasn't had a turn yet.) She has enjoyed the learning games and winning tickets. Just don't set it up without your kid thinking you can go back and set up their avatar. Yeah, that doesn't work. I had to delete each kid and re-add them. Of coarse, you figure that out after sitting for 20 minutes with a wiggling, impatient child on your lap. But the end result is fun! And learning!

Since I wrote that first thing about the feet, mere minutes ago, Huggyface has taken a step. He takes, usually accidentally, one step, now and then. He also does pretty well at standing on his own, he ever tries to do it, which is so totally cute, and I'm pretty sure yesterday I saw him try to stand up on his own in the middle of the floor.

Cheeks is really into asking why. And... reading the letters off of... well, everything, and asking you what it spells. All these questions could get annoying but I started asking her what she thinks the "why" is, and the letter thing is great because you see her letter knowledge improve and her excitement for early reading.

Ok. School's out and sibling rivalry has begun. Thus ends my blogging. Hopefully I can feed and divide to diffuse further argument.

You Never Know What You're Going To Get

2011-12-01T21:32:00.001-06:00

We are ending our first stretch of the years scout/school fundraisers. THANK GOD it's over. Two kids, selling two different things each. EEK! Last year Koko's order form got lost. Yeah, that made me ~~crazy~~ sweat. And it was lost right at ordering time, so I had to guess what people ordered. I just have to say, God was totally all over that as I ordered stuff with amazing accuracy, completely blind. Sure I ended up with some extras and some shorts, but for the most part, I was right on. Which is simply amazing.

This year, despite my absolute best intentions to prevent disasters, still proved to have it's own share of complications. sigh. Oh well. I finally got to the point where I decided to fix what I can, write a check for the rest, and .... let it go. (mumble grumble $91 later for $30 of popcorn. Ok, I'm done.)

With Girl Scout Nut Sales and Cub Scout Popcorn Sales, we had to hit up lots of people. (I tried not to get anyone twice.) They both did great and hit good goals, so their scout pack/troupe should not be disappointed. Koko definitely showed more confidence this year over last year, and George just knocked my socks off with his eagerness and preparation. He took the initiative to put his scout shirt on without me even telling him to, got his things all ready. I coached him just a bit on what to say and what to do, but for the most part he took off and did it himself. At church, I wasn't even by his side; he did it all by himself. Made me so proud. They both do. But now.. the delivery.

Since daylight savings time is now in effect, I was just not quite as eager to go around in the dark to deliver, so the last few days have been a flurry of "get it done." Last night we finished up the popcorn. Tonight was nuts. (haha. You know, nut delivery night. teehee)

You just never know what you're going to get going in to people's homes.

We knocked on the door of one customer's home. I remembered it was an older, ahem, gentleman's home. When he opened the door, I just about dropped my jaw. I told him we were there to delivery the nuts and how much it was. He closed the door and went off to get the money. It took all my reserve to not die of giggles, but I knew I needed to keep my calm. Little girls do not easily recover from giggle fits. So as we're standing there alone, Koko and I, in his porch, I asked Koko, "Was he naked?" "Yes," she replied, incredulously, and started to giggle a bit. I grabbed the canister of nuts and pushed her behind me. He came back to the door, still sort of tucked behind it so I couldn't really see him, we enchanged nuts for money and then we bolted. Once outside near the car, she busted out laughing. I asked, "so he was naked? Did you see his... weiner?" "NOOOOO!" she replied. "Oh, so was he wearing underwear or something?" "Yeah, but it looked kind of girlish."

LOL

Oh. my. word.

And this is why you should always accompany your child on these sort of things.

You just NEVER know what you're going to get.

Googly Eyed

2011-11-25T22:01:00.001-06:00

Someone recently posted on FB an activity she had her daughter do, she may have seen on Pin-terest, and I thought, Yep, we could totally do that.

Cast of characters:

Stack o' magazines

Googly Eyes

Glue Dots, not glue

Cup o' Skizzors

This is easy, goofy fun. Have your kids cut out pictures of people, animals, etc. and use glue dots to affix the googly eyes. (Trust me on the glue dots. So much easier, much less messy. Glue would make the paper gooey. ew.)

The funniest part, I think, is where the kids place the eyes. It's sure to produce a ton of giggles, and even I could manage to accomplish this "craft" for the afternoon. Cheap easy entertainment.

Koko got a lil eye happy with Mr. Giraffe.

The hamburger. It kills me.

I love them. Love them all.

Check out this little vixen. The girls kept calling her LadyGaga.

These were the Dorky-do's.

Mommy takes full responsibility for the man in the middle.

All in an afternoon of fun. And thanks to the free (and quite mistaken) subscription we have to ESPN magazine, we had loads of pictures to choose from.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

2011-11-24T22:56:00.001-06:00

Thanksgiving. What can I say?

The Good:

I didn't over eat at either one of the two Thanksgiving meals I ate today.
The food was good at both places, and the people were enjoyable at both places too.
I got to hang out at a friend's house for a bit today. So fun to have a friend!
I somehow managed to get my stove top cleaned. It really is monumental, people. It's been driving me insane for over a week. Either I just got too tired or the stove was in use. Today, despite something baking, I cleaned it anyway.
I didn't have to listen to anyone complaining about not liking what I cooked. Because EVERYONE loves dessert. (I made 3 kinds - 7 Layer Bars, Oooey Gooey Caramel Bars, and Lemon Bars, plus a ready-made pumpkin pie.)
I drank 5 glasses of wine. The last 3 were close enough together that I felt nice and happy and relaxed.
I can't smell (this will be important later, just hang in there with me).
Any unfortunate events happened at the end of the night and not early in the day causing me to miss out on the festivities
I was not giving birth, though I enjoyed thinking about last year when I was giving birth on Thanksgiving.

The Bad:

I was awoken early this morning by my 3 yo screaming, literally - screaming, because he wanted everyone else to wake up too. No one was interested, least of all, me. I had only had 5 hrs of sleep by that point, and ...
I have a cold that is kicking my butt. I am so whooped, my nose is constantly running, I'm constantly sneezing (and whatever goes with that, ladies, ahem) and I feel like I'm in that cold commercial where the head is floating like a balloon. Yeah. Awesome. So after those mere 5 hrs of sleep, I was actually spinning when I tried to open my eyes, like when you have too much wine, only there was no wine.
My hubby was being a (insert not nice word here). I mean, who doesn't love a good spat with your spouse on the eve and day of a family get together?
I miss a certain person who shall remain nameless who I don't feel at liberty to contact but I miss anyway. And even though said person probably doesn't want to hear it from me, I love you and I hope you had a great day.

The Ugly:

My kid ralphed all over my mom's bathroom. The one room my parents didn't manage to clean. It was not a pretty site. Then came the pink-pop painted puke, prolifically painting porcelain plumbing. And walls. And clean towels. And the shower curtain. (This would be where my lack of smell comes in VERY handy.)
I am going to hurl if I have to see one more FB status or blog post on how thankful you are about your kids and your family and all that crap. Yeah, yeah. Me too. Blah blah blah. I'm sick and crabby. Sue me.
My baby is turning ONE in ~~twenty one~~ seventeen minutes and I'm NOT READY to be done with babies. Kids, yes, babies, No. Hello. My name is Mrs. Bananas, and I'm addicted to babies. I love my babies so much. All their shrivelly small, non-talking, non-mobile neediness. They have no excuses and you can't blame anything on them. You can't really teach them anything, or fail to teach them anything, or teach them anything you wish you hadn't. It's a wonderful wonderful time of parenting. Sleepless, very very tiring and sleepless, but so easy. Don't worry, though. This road has been block forevermore. sigh.

And in case anyone was wondering, I will not, nor in the foreseeable future, be doing any sort of Black Friday shopping, unless it's online, and not this year either because sleep is WAY MORE valuable to me than a good price on a dvd player. Amen, and good night. Have a great weekend.

Morning Chatter

2011-11-21T10:46:00.001-06:00

I think one of the greatest challenges to parents has got to be morning chatter. While most parents are fumbling to grab glasses and robes, stumbling quickly to the coffee pot as their still-asleep brain seeks a jumpstart, children often wake up with their little minds (and mouths) running full speed ahead. Adults tend to appreciate quiet tranquil beginnings, while our children don't necessarily have that need and thus begin the day with endless chatter. Non-stop. High pitched. Loud. Accompanied by running, jumping or squirming.

I'm a night person, without a doubt, but I have managed to overcome my lack of "morning glory" out of necessity. Once my feet hit the floor, it's like a switch is flipped and I'm good to go, just don't talk to me if I'm still horizontal. If you must, it had better be important and you'd better be whispering.

Once vertical, I still prefer calm and quiet, (thought that's not necessarily a morning-only desire) but it doesn't take me the 3-hour adjustment period that other males I know and/or am related to seem to require. (There's more than one.) My children, however, don't understand that. So I must endure. Also, I must force them to be quiet so as not to wake any dragons ~~fathers~~.

Mr. Boots has definitely entered a very verbal phase as he is understanding more, hearing more (even if it doesn't seem like it) and then practicing more. Monkey see (hear) monkey do (say), right? I would love to have a recorder in the car tuned in to Boots. The boy talks and talks and it is the most hilarious one-sided conversation you have heard. About everything. Things he sees, random stuff that leaves you befuddled, catch phrases he's heard and new vocab he's trying out. I've caught phrases like "sure", "whatever," "yeah," and "I don't care," mixed in with his talk about "pee water" (don't ask) and cows, or whatever.

This morning as I was putting pony tails in Cheek's hair, something I don't normally do, she and he had this very interesting exchange.

Boots: Oh Cheeks, that looks great. (A boy commenting on a girls hair is fairly impressive)

Cheeks: Ok, but when you say 'stupid' you have to say 'great.'

Say what?

(I finish her hair, she runs to the bathroom to have a look, Boots trailing behind.)

Cheeks: Oh, I love it. (Miss Melodrama)

Boots: Yeah, it looks nice. And you have three eyes.

...

??? Huh?

It could just be my morning brain, but I have no idea where these random comments came from.

Life is short, so Live!

2011-11-08T17:06:00.000-06:00

Ever since the movie The Bucket List came out, people are constantly talking about them. There are whole websites devoted to creating a bucket list. I guess I've never really thought about it much, considering my life is still mostly wrapped up in diapers and toddler tantrums (totally could do without those).

Today I'm thinking about it. I wonder how long it will take me to come up with more than three things.

Here goes.

Go on a missions trip with my husband. (And not for the reasons you would expect.)
Revive my Spanish speaking abilities to the point of fluency.
Take all my children to a foreign country. Not necessarily at the same time.
Learn to play the guitar well.
Become a great photographer
Figure out Photoshop
Run a half marathon
Go to a professional soccer game in Spain, just for the experience
Visit all of the United States of America in a touristy fashion (hitting the airport doesn't count)
Take a dance class
Tour Europe
Travel to a subcontinental country (India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, etc)
Wear my sari
Live in a house of my dreams
Become a foster parent
Go shopping and buy whatever I want, no restrictions, no sales rack necessary
Graduate from college
?Skydive? (I might be too chicken for this anymore, so... 19?)
Para sail / hang glide / or something of that sort
Go on a cruise - one to somewhere warm, the other to Alaska
Read the whole bible
Receive a love letter from my husband (but does it count if that's something someone else has to do for you?)
...

Just that took me about half an hour. With cheating.

This is my entry in the Just Ask Bucket List Getaway Giveaway. Just Ask offers a breast and ovarian cancer screening This is my entry in the Just Ask Bucket List Getaway Giveaway. Just Ask offers a breast and ovarian cancer screening and is encouraging people to share 15 things that I want to enjoy in my lifetime as a reminder to be aware of my health. My mom had breast cancer, and while she is totally healthy now, it's a reminder that life is short, so live! Want to enter? Head over to TodaysMama.com to get the details.

Let's talk about sex, bay-bee!

2011-11-04T11:43:00.001-05:00

I stumbled upon a new blog. Wow. It's good. But... (or rather, yeah!)... it talks about sex.

You maybe thinking, but this (All My Monkeys) is a blog about a mom and her kids. Yep. It is. But guess what... there's SEX in this world. And if as a parent we don't think about sex in relation to parenting our children, we're gonna be in big trouble. Fortunately, for the children I am parenting, I don't have to deal with this issue too much. Yet. thank. god. But it scares the livin' daylights out of me how to communicate about all that is out there, being fed to them, so that they don't get hurt, make (huge) mistakes, or become victims of something they weren't ready for. I know my kids will make mistakes and get hurt and experience things ~~I'm~~ they're not ready for, but I still would like to equip them enough so that their mistakes are more calculated, not so bad, not so dangerous, not so damaging, those mistakes. As a parent, I want to remain realistic about what is likely, setting standards or expectations for them that communicate that they are worth more, maintain realistic expectations as a parent as they make their own choices, and unconditionally loving them if/when they do make choices that I opine are bad.

I don't think my parents really talked to me about that stuff.

How do I have that dialogue, how and when to start that dialogue, with my kids?

I made lots of mistakes. I am not innocent. Do I tell my kids that? Or does it give them license to go and do... because mom/dad did?

I remember being a little kid and wanting to be sexy. I remember wanting to shave my legs at age 4 or 5, and sitting in my backyard with scissors, cutting my leg hair, because it was "gross" or "ugly." How at such a tender age did I get that opinion?

So far, I do know that one of my daughters has already had thoughts about things being romantic, of kissing boys, of boyfriends, of being in love. At least, so much as I can interpret her non-verbalized actions.

My heart aches and I become nauseous (in my gut) by the influence of social media and culture on kids, because I know of it's harm. Little kids, big kids, bigger kids, adults. The sexual imagery, the influence, the distortion, the total lack of reality... it's gross. Posts on Twitter, Facebook, blogs, etc. by kids under 18 reveal a romanticized, crude, view on life and love and sex. It's almost like a drug, their yearning for it, how they obsess about it, longing for a someone to love and hold them, to arouse them. It makes me sad. There's so much more to life than sex. Love is not all romance. In fact, love is not about romance at all, but that's another post in itself.

The best thing you can do is LOVE YOURSELF.

I don't mean this in a conceited kind of way. I mean, in how you treat yourself, how you expect others to treat you, in the kinds of crap you put up with, the way you let people talk to you, the way you talk to you.

This is where "I am a child of the Living God" is a really good thing to know. Not just know, but k n o w . Know that He thinks you're worth more than you ever will. Know that He doesn't judge the outside - He always thinks you're beautiful. Know that even though He knows all about your ugly side, He loves you anyway.

While these are heavy issues to contemplate, I don't think it's inappropriate for me to be thinking of them. I want to be ready. Prepared.

So the post that got this all thinking was actually about pornography, but the definition of "pornography" could be widened to include a lot of what is out there, in magazines, online, on tv. Shows like Jersey Shore, Skins, heck, even Toddlers and Tiaras, are about selling something to people who can't handle it. Kids.

I have friends and relatives who have or have had porn as a larger element in their life. A negative element. People I love, wounded by this yuckiness.

I know kids who take in too much "information" for their tender brains to deal with, and I wonder, who is shielding them?

Why are teenage girls posting pics of sexy girls (themselves or other, but especially of themselves) on their own website? Why do 10 yrs olds think they need a girlfriend? Or boyfriend? Ten year olds should not have a "marital" status on Facebook.

There are so many distortions, lies, that are sold to us in this stuff.

So this is the post that had me wowed, which got the wheels turning here, that spawned all this blather.

I wish that 10 years ago someone had educated me on pornography. What it is, what it does, and what it reaches in and destroys in the hearts, minds and bodies of men and women.

I wish that someone would have told me that researchers have proven it sabotages your sex life.

I wish someone would have explained how dopamine, the chemical that is released every time you experience pleasure, drives you to return to what provided that feeling before.

I wish someone would have told me that the kind of pornography you’re most turned on by is usually linked to a corresponding hurtful event in your life, further injuring your brokenness.

I wish someone would have told me pornography would normalize things I wasn’t emotionally or physically ready to handle in my relationships with men, making me feel like I had no options or control over my sex life, filling me with much regret.

I wish someone would have told me I would begin to objectify men, build up images in my mind, and think of sex day in and day out, to the point where I couldn’t remain focused on anything else.

I wish someone would have told me it would make me feel less valuable to men, and bring up insecurities for years in the bedroom.

I wish someone would have pointed out pornography establishes your sexuality completely apart from real-life relationships, causing huge problems in your intimacy with real significant others.

I wish someone would have explained what “sexual anorexia” was and that countless young men are unable to get erections because they’ve been watching porn since they were around 14 years old.

I wish someone would have told all the men I’ve dated that the porn they are watching is keeping them from being turned on by me, ultimately destroying our relationship.

I wish someone would have told me that the dopamine and oxytocin being released from my watching certain types of pornography would cause me to question my sexual orientation, which in turn cost me relationships with friends.

excerpt from ask lauren, etc.

I read somewhere recently that the average age for boys to be introduced to pornography used to be (in the 90's?) 13. Now it's age 8, and it's not just boys anymore. My son is almost 8.

I don't want my kids to have their (sex) life defined by this. It's so not reality. Or rather, it's not a healthy reality. Unfortunately for some, it is their reality.

Do you have a plan for talking to you kids about sex?

Obligatory post-Halloween photo post

2011-11-01T20:54:00.002-05:00

The much anticipated report.

Haha. riiiiight. I'm sure you were all waiting with bated breath.

All in all, the kids looked great. Costume-wise, I think we had a good year, unlike last year when costumes were lost at getting-dressed time, and a rather pregnant and uncomfortable mother spent an hour and a half looking for them while her parents patiently waited as she had a melt down, followed by a certain child who flat out refused to wear his (most expensive) costume and ended up with the word "Stubborn" written in washable marker across his forehead. No, I'm not kidding about that.

Getting ready took longer than I thought (hair curling and make-up application)(doesn't it always, ladies?) so our departure was set back an hour, which landed us at the pizza place smack dab in the middle of craziness. Hot-N-Ready? I don't think so. Try Hot-N-Ready after a 45 minute wait standing in a hot, crowded pizza joint. I was polite and held the door. My friend was nice and filed a complaint this afternoon (for numerous reasons, it was warranted, trust me) on the behalf of her husband and myself. Well, maybe just for her husband, but I'll count myself good on that and spare them my repeated story of dissatisfaction.

But in the end, we got pizza, got candy, saw all the grandparents and had a nice evening. I'd call that Mission Accomplished.

The Sheriff

The Princess

The Cat

The Ninja

The cutest stinkin' Elephant you ever saw (no bias there)

The whole crew

And I'm proud to report that our candy haul was not great, (yes, you read that right) so no Candy Fairy is needed. They'll polish this all off shortly, I'll save myself 40 bucks in fairy fees, and we can resume our regularly ~~scheduled~~ crazy program.

Toil and Trouble

2011-10-31T11:32:00.000-05:00

I'm so glad that today is Halloween. Because tomorrow it will NOT BE Halloween. It will be done and I don't have to think about it for at least another 11 months. Except for all that candy. I'm contemplating a Candy Fairy. But what to do with it? Because some candy-addicted part of me just could NOT throw it away, and giving it to someone else seems to be just passing the trouble around.

I'm also ready to be done with all the rigmarole of dressing up and school parties and such, and all the ~~annoying~~ blog posts about Halloween themed things. Nevermind F@cebook. The oodles of photo posts tomorrow showing off cute kids in costume not included.

Then there's also all the scary decor that freaks my kids out, people dressed as ghosts and goblins and vampires and Scream guys. Let's not forget last years Trick or Treating episode where, as we went up to one house, the spooky werewolf "decoration" jumped up and came to life, freaking out my 2, 3, 5 and 6 yr olds and making even their mom crap her pants. So. not. cool, dude. Needless to say, we'll be going to a Halloween party this year, bypassing the cold hours of dragging my kids around town, and my end-of-the-night sore feet. We'll enjoy festivities in a well lit, werewolf-free, warm building, with a short (and sweet ;D) Trunk or Treating at the end, thankyouverymuch.

Pumpkins I carved a few yrs ago. I enjoy it, and also prefer making non-traditional ones.

No typical jack-o-lantern faces for this lady. My favorites are the ones with leaves, and the tree on the top left you can hardly see. Last years' designs here.

I enjoy the American cultural tradition side of Halloween, the dressing up and carving pumpkins, getting candy, baking yummy fall treats. Heck, I even started a Boo'ing in my small town, which got many "oh that's so cute" from mom's and dad's alike, but part of me gets a sort of check in my system. And yes, that would be a spiritual check. I can feel the cringes, as I type that. Yours, not mine. No, this is not some holier than thou post, but I also don't hide my Christian side, and feel it's ok, no important, to question my actions, motives, behaviors from time to time. I don't believe in shove-it-down-your-throat Christianity, I think proselytizing on street corners with a bullhorn is offensive. But this here? Just expressing some inner conflict I have. It's not just relevant to October 31st. It's a year-round thing.

Thing is, I'm not into entertaining evil. There is very much a spirit world that is active in our culture (hello... shows like Ghost Hunters and stuff like that). I'm a visual person. A long time ago I read Frank Peretti's This Present Darkness. Whoa. Whoa whoa and whoooaa. Totally changed how I saw things. I very much feel "darkness" around me, on certain people. It's a creepy crawly feeling. Unsettling. And I don't want my kids exposed to that. Sue me for being a protective mother.

The rules for costumes are nothing scary or evil. This year we will sport a sheriff cowboy, a princess, a cat and a ninja. We talk about how evil doesn't honor God and "that's why you can't dress up as a vampire, son." No ghosts, goblins or witches. It's a fine line, and I'm sure some would consider it playing with fire, but where do you draw the line? I don't want to make my kids into outcasts by holding them back from school for the entire month of October, unable to play with fiends or having to shield their eyes while walking down the street. (Ok, I kind of do that, but little kids have nightmares and so that's an easy decision.) On the flipside, it bothers me that schools read books about "cute little ghosts", and the older ones play "Spooky Bingo" but I'm not going to homeschool, so what do I do? Have conversation. But "double double toil and trouble" on PBS Kids? Really? I know it's Shakespeare, but seriously, I wouldn't be reading that to my toddlers.

This is not all just relating to kids, either, though. I get kind of irked, and maybe this is judgemental and so I'll apologize in advance, by my Christian friends posting comics of witches around their cauldron, or a series of "spooky" graveyard photos complete with crows. What are we celebrating? And again, where do you draw the line? Where do YOU draw the line? I'm still not sure about where I do.

I'm ready to be done with this uneasy feeling I have.

That's all.

And tomorrow I will post cute photos of cute kids in costume. :D

Totally weird random stuff

2011-10-29T17:46:00.006-05:00

I wanted to put as my FB status just now: "Definition of insanity - being a mother." Cuz BOY ARE MY KIDS MAKING ME CRAZY TODAY. I am definitely not looking forward to all the candy craziness of Monday etc. It's already started, actually. Cheeks had so much candy after her preschool party on Wednesday that she had a candy high the likes of which I've personally never seen before. Really. Not exaggerating. It was bad, and took her about 3 hours to come down. It was like she was on speed. And... she didn't even eat it all. Only about half, but apparently it was enough to send her to the moon and back. (I usually give them about 15-20 minutes. She, apparently, was a speed eater.)

Just now Koko asked me something I never thought I'd be asked. In a very whiny voice she said, "Mom, why don't you ever buy any feathers." (She's not talking about those feathers you put in your hair, either.) Gee, I don't know why, my dear. Is it common for people to frequently buy feathers? I must be out of the loop.

I had some weird dream this morning, that included these elements: 2 extra rings (other than my wedding ring), goats, a friend and her 4th child, some supposedly amazing ice cream treat that surprisingly came in a tennis shoe (that my friend's child just HAD to have), and a Boy Scout sponsored haunted Halloween *walk* (vs hayride). I think there were other weird elements too, like walking around in a darkened warehouse type store, only very warehouse-y and not so much store, and laying on a cement floor... maybe in a park shelter or something?

I know. Exactly what I was thinking.... WEIRD!!!

We went to the Farmer's Market today, for the last day of the season. I got some cute earrings! And also some acorn squash for Huggyface (I make his baby food. He's transitioning to table food but hamburgers are a little too much just yet.), some nice red onions, Honeycrisp apples and a few bags of mini-donuts, because no trip to the Farmer's Market would be complete without mini-donuts. At least not according to my kids. Huggyface insisted (read: screamed, as is his current method of communication these days. :oS ) on not being left out of the donut rations, and when I came home and changed his diaper, I had to laugh because all the crumbs had traveled south, and he had quite a storehouse in that Pamper.

Aaaaannndddd.... Time's up. I hear a baby crying.

Subject: Huggyface

2011-10-29T14:30:00.000-05:00

I am really adoring and savoring the babyhood of this last baby of mine. Not that I didn't with the other ones, but time flies when you're ~~sleep deprived~~ having fun, and it's hard to keep hold of those memories. I love babies. Everything about them. I will miss this phase, as it is so very much my favorite. I have wanted to capture lots of things, from his little fingers and chubby knees, goofy faces and the way his little feet stick out behind him when he's crouched on his knees. He has a certain way his toes curl. A dimple in his cheek. I want to preserve those things, for the day when I need the pictures to help me remember.

"Look deeep intooo my eeeyes."

"Yes, baby, yes. Whatever you want, baby. Your wish is my command."

Trust me when I say those words bite me in the butt all. the. time.

Toe curl.

This feet push thing? Yeah, imagine that from the inside. Still does it to this day. Funny the things they do in utero that carry to the outside world.

Feet always pushing something. Legs like an ox.

Hello. My name is Huggyface and I look just like my daddy.

He's posing. With his goofy smile. Makes me laugh every time.

Ooooh, what's that over the edge? Long way down. Looks scary, mama.

Peep toe. ;)

A look of mischief?

Oh, mom! Ugh! This grass! I don't like it!

Don't. let. feet. touch. grass.

Feet.

Subject: Boots

2011-10-28T11:30:00.000-05:00

As I said in our most recent visit to The Dam, I took a whole lotta photos. George excluded cuz he was off tossing the ole pigskin with pops (hahaha, that sentence cracks me up), I tried to get lots of shots of each kid.

Enter Subject: Boots.

He was eager to have me shoot his every move, while at the same time telling me, "No, Mom. Not yet."

I wish I had a clue on how to use PSE so then I could just make a collage. But since I don't, you'll just have to "enjoy" all these shots the long way.

Please notice the wearing of the big brother's sweatshirt adorableness.

And the look of absolute concentration.

You need that when your shoes are on the wrong feet.

I wanna be your hands, I wanna be your feet.

2011-10-27T21:34:00.002-05:00

My kid has a friend. A sweet friend. But... a friend who lies.

In our house, lying is one of the biggest offenses you can make. It is not tolerated, and there will be extra consequences doled out if you are found to have lied.

I have never really known / been friends with, or even acquaintance with, someone who was a habitual liar. (I take that back. I do have a friend like that, but I choose to overlook it. The lies aren't earth shattering ones, and haven't seemed to affect our relationship.) Personally I am a horrible liar. So I just don't. No poker face. So it's almost a foreign concept to me. My husband has been more, uh, ?privileged? in his acquaintances. He can spot a lie a mile away. He loses all respect for people like that. At this point in his life, having worked hard to be a person of integrity, he doesn't put up with it either. In fact, he's been known to un-friend someone (and we're not talking F@cebook here) who has this "habit". The whole, if "birds of a feather flock together," then he doesn't want to be included in that flock. I find that noble. Plus, no one likes to be lied to. It's like they didn't trust you enough with the truth? Didn't think you were worthy of the truth? It's betrayal. And that's, well, hurtful.

Why do people lie? I really don't get it. Defense mechanism? Bored? Learned behavior? What?!?! While the truth may not always be pleasant, isn't it much easier than having to back peddle, or to be caught lying? Eventually, people stop believing you. Isn't the stress of knowing you could be found out much worse than the truth itself? Even if it's a lie to build yourself up. Don't you think, as your friend, that I really care that you don't actually live in a mansion but instead live in a trailer? If the truth is too "undesirable" for certain people, do you really want them in your life anyway?

But enough of the psychoanalyzing. Back to this child.

This child is likely going to be a friend of my kid for some time. I can already see the drama that this individual will bring to the relationship (and thus our lives), but nonetheless, it's one that will be at least semi-lasting. The lying has already affected my dealings with the parents (caused misunderstandings and uncomfortable-ness), and even caused trouble this evening. Not so much for me as for the "babysitter" and self. This child is very un-trusting. I'm not sure if it's just with me or with everyone. Given that my child has made the proclamation that "We don't lie" to said child, and that kid has also been caught (sort of, at least by me) in a previous lie about me, I get the feeling that the child is even more guarded and a bit skiddish with me. I'm much less worried about my kid learning bad qualities (for the time being), and more irritated by the fact that I'm being lied to, or told to be lied to. But, I'd also like to earn the trust of this child so that they don't (feel the need to) lie to me.

Can I just say, for the record, that MY KID ROCKS. Upon being told, "Just lie to your mom," my child rushed in and immediately told me what that kid said. HA HA! Foiled! It makes me beam with pride at the high moral compass that this child possesses. Not to be mistaken for being snooty or "better than", just that my kid knows right from wrong. Maybe I am doing something right, now and then.

Honestly, it may sound cheesy, but I want to be the kind of mom that kids trust and respect, that is fun but most definitely a mom. I want my house to be one where other kids come to hang out, one where my kids want their friends to come to hang out. (Granted, all this is in theory. The practicality of all the food and cleaning and noise that comes with that is something I have yet to grapple. There is a lot of work to be done on patience and tolerance.) Right now, I don't feel like my house is this place, but anyway, it's a goal. (If you've ever read any Karen Kingsbury books, I'm talking about Mrs. Flanigan. Now you know why I said cheesy. But seriously.)

My question is, is there anything that I can do to positively affect this child? How do I affect kids not my own? Anyone have any experience with this, as either a kid or a parent?

Kong Comes Along

2011-10-16T23:39:00.000-05:00

It was time for another trip to our favorite local adventure... The Dam. The fall weather here has been rather un-fall like until lately, and then it has been accompanied by gale force winds. (No joke on the winds, either. 30-50 mph gusts, and one even led to a friend's house being burnt down. Seriously.) So needless to say, the gorgeous fall color that we had here only lasted about a week before it all blew away. But that wasn't gonna stop our adventuring.

As we sat around the table this weekend, the kids were brainstorming places we could go (you know, like DisneyWorld, or the Mall of America, or... Granted, one is much closer and much cheaper than the other but... I was looking for quick and low budget). Well, Mrs. Bananas threw out her suggestion of The Dam, and there was no ~~dam~~ way were NOT going there. This time, however, Daddy, aka King Kong, was home and his participation on this field trip was, ahem, "politely requested." cough.

This new face? Hilarious, with a scrunchy nose. But wait... it gets better.

You would have thought the wait was going to kill them. I can't tell you how many times I heard, "Is lunch ready yet? Can we go now? How long before we go?"

It was nice to have Kong there, to join in our experience. Granted, it was all different because he was there, but nevertheless, it was an enjoyable time. He took a little stroll with us before George whisked him away for a little football tossing. (Which, can I say, is totally abnormal for our family. We're not sporty. At. all.) It was sweet to see this father-son moment, though.

The ~~monkeys~~ kids played happily on the jungle gym, asking, "Mom! Mom! Watch me! Mom! Mom! Take a picture of this!" Ok. I'd be happy to.

See? It's so funny, this new thing. He makes a couple new faces.

A few of us took our usual stroll up the hill to the highway, with LOTS of stops along the way for camera experimentation. (I won't bore you with that today, though.) Somehow, I managed to get out of stroller duty. (And no, Cheeks didn't pee her pants, in case you noticed that.)

I shot over 156 pictures. How do you cut that down into one post? I don't know. So expect to see a few more soon. If, you know, I actually get around to it. :D

Daddy being a goof.

Sneak Peak at mommy's mini-photo shoot.

We only stayed about an hour. Given the coughs that pervaded our crew and the winds that were still blowing, not to mention the overwhelming smell of "money" (read: pig manure being spread on fields), that was enough time. Plus, the promise of chips and cheese for supper (a much requested, never given treat) helped the transition back to home. But before we left, we got one of the kids to take a nice, and rare, picture of King Kong and Mrs. Bananas together.

Thanks guys!

(The true enjoyment was in the laughs we had trying to get said child to take the picture,

thus our big goofy smiles.)

What a great adventure!

Satisfaction...

2011-10-15T17:16:00.000-05:00

Apparently... I can

get some

satisfaction

when Big Brother

decides to feed Little Brother.

All is quiet

On the ~~Western~~ home front.

Brother is happy,

Because he got to feed Baby Brother,

Baby is happy,

Because he got more food,

Mommy is happy

because she got peace and quiet.

Ahhh... I We can get some Satisfaction.

And an applesauce beard is a small price to pay. Now why didn't I ~~think of~~ allow this sooner?

Just a normal Saturday

2011-10-01T13:39:00.001-05:00

**eyes closed**head hanging**shakes head**

**sigh**

What I'm about to write, I'm writing because it's that, beat my child (not really - figure of speech), or cry. Or maybe I'll do all three.

**sigh**

Today the plan was to go to Farmer's Market, hit the grocery store, come home, and later go to a BBQ at some friends' house. We had a slight (and pleasant) change of plans where we were going to swap out the Farmer's Market idea when a friend called an asked if she could drop by to visit, kids can play at the park. HECK YEAH! I love company. Even better when they call to warn me so I can put on a bra.

A while later, my friend and her children leave, and Mr. Boots comes back from the park, riding his bicycle. Normal stuff. Except when he gets closer I see something on his bike. What's that?.....

POOP?!?! You've got to be kidding me. Who poops their pants while riding a bike? Really? REALLY!?!?!? Ugh. So yeah, it's squished right out the back of his pants, on his shirt and plopped onto his bike. Lovely. It's clearly a full load.

To futher demonstrate that point, because of coarse you want to hear the gory details, when I turned the pants inside out, it looked like he had pooped his knees.

Oh joy of my life.

A fact about me, in case you missed it, I DON'T DO POOP. I have thrown away undies and shorts (like, the ONE good pair of shorts the kid had) because there was just too much poop. We are so short on pants right now, I just don't have that option. As it is, I can barely keep him in pants, or even shorts despite the 50 degree days, because some days there are lots of accidents. sigh.

How long does potty training take, again?

TRICK 1: It's MUCH easier to get poop off clothing with the water hose than by dunking them in the toilet.

TRICK 2: Newspaper makes a good floor cover for de-pants-ing - no mess on the floor!!

I'll let you know when I discover a trick for getting poop off naked-body, poop-filled crevices. It's too cold for the hose, and I don't live in the country. #shucks!

Kid bathes, I hose down clothing outside. Kid is supposedly watching a movie while I take a 10 minute break to de-poopify my mind and gather my wits. (Yeah right.) Boy comes in and starts digging thru my camera case (for the fancy camera) with PEANUT BUTTER COVERED HANDS!

SERIOUSLY?!?!

Not only that, but he has decided to not only have a pb snack, but a drink all at the same time, and has gotten out the koolaid and poured it into the peanut butter jar.

I kid you not, people, I'm not making this up. I don't have enough creative brain cells to knock together these days to come up with this on my own.

Pardon me, I have to go cry in my room. Where it's poop-free.

Definitely NOT ME

2011-09-19T23:15:00.001-05:00

Well, it was definitely NOT ME who discovered that the awful smell emanating from the microwave was in fact not food but a worm that should have been fed to our turtle.

It had NOT been there FOR A WEEK, stuck underneath the turntable, being drug around and run over continuously, stinking up my kitchen.

I most certainly DID NOT think that it should have been crunchy and dried out by now, with all that microwaving it had gotten, instead of juicy and extra disgusting. I mean, really. Doesn't food normally get dried out with too much microwave action???

I DID NOT get talked into tearing down our old, decrepit, safety-hazard of a gazebo by my good friend who was home for a visit, without first consenting my darling hubby. I would never take such drastic measures of home/yard improvement into my own hands, and bust out the Sawzall to chop that baby up. No way!

I DID NOT totally rock the Sawzall.

I have NOT had to be the mean old mom this week so, so many times. So much so that I DID NOT threaten my 4 yr old daughter with leaving her at home if she did not get dressed immediately. I most definitely DID NOT follow through on that very threat when she refused to choose one of the many options of pants, socks, and shoes placed before her, and leave her sorry butt at home (with daddy) while I took her younger brother to preschool this morning.

I certainly DID NOT say to my rockin' spouse (so rockin' that he has not only fixed the front step, but finished chopping up and burning the rest of the gazebo - an all day Sunday project, shampoo'd the living room carpet AND fixed my leaky bathtub faucet - sorry, little brag there, ;D ) that "I'd rather stab myself repeatedly in the eye with a dull pencil that to try to get my 4 yr old to do something". WAY too melodramatic for me. :P

And I WILL NEVER admit to making this post today purely for the chance at entering my name into the hat of an online photography workshop giveaway. I DO NOT need to improve my photography skills.

This post has been part of MckMama's blog party, where we all join in the share-apy of telling the world things that most definitely DID NOT *wink wink* happen in our lives recently. So what have you "not" done this week?

Flashback! to Not Me Monday.

2011-09-12T16:57:00.002-05:00

I guess the madness is back! MckMama has brought back Not Me Monday, and since it's usually ~~theraputic~~ comical (not that comical things ever happen in my house *wink wink*), and I need some ~~therapy~~ humor, I'll join in. Here are some of the things that "did not" happen at Casa de Monkeys lately.

It was "not me" who both thanked and apologized to the preschool teacher as I dropped my 3 yr old off for his first day of preschool.

It was "not me" who forgot to give Boy Boots a much-needed haircut before his first day of school, and thus had to rectify the situation with entirely too much hair gel. He did not come home with a head full of "gel flakes" to the point where it looked like he had a case of extreme dandruff. On the bright side, he got a lot of compliments on his "hairdo."

It was "not me" who celebrated today as the first day of school for all the kids (minus baby - who napped the entire time, btw, woohoo!) by DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. No way would I waste the opportunity to do some much needed tasks around the house without the interruption of my many monkeys.

It was "not me" who was so shocked to come home Friday afternoon and find my hubby fixing the sidewalk leading to the house. I would never choose to communicate in off-handed comments and then be elated to find that someone actually listened.

It was "not me" who cracked the new concrete sidewalk before it was dry after painstakenly trying to keep everyone else off.

Because Aunt Flo was so late upon arrival, I "did not" contemplate getting a pregnancy test, nevermind that the "road has been closed," ifyaknowwhatImean.

It was "not me" who asked my hubby to drive 15 miles one way just to buy me "turkey bags" (you know, for cooking a turkey), knowing he would just for an excuse to ride his motorcycle, not only because I needed a turkey bag, but also because I wanted a turn on the computer.

It was "not me" who decided to introduce Huggyface to his first table food experience by serving him the full turkey dinner I made, complete with stuffing, turkey and gravy. This choice, on my part, was "not" so that it would entertain him and I could blissfully eat my own plate of food. He did "not" enjoy every ~~fistful~~ finger licking morsel that was placed before him. Neither was he wearing a good portion of it. There was "not" turkey under his eye and I "did not" find that amusing.

I "did not" do that same thing with chocolate animal crackers on the way home from church, again in an attempt to keep him quiet.

And finally, it was "not me" who ate TWO bowls of ice cream last night (while everyone else had... none) WITH caramel. I would not have justified that move with the fact that the first one was a little small, and that since I've had a rough week I deserved it. (Neither would I divulge on the world wide interwebs that such stress-induced behavior has gained me about 4 lbs this week.)

Well, there ya have it. Have anything to add? What have YOU "not" done this week?

Man in Motion

2011-09-03T13:20:00.000-05:00

Or rather, Baby in Motion.

Video from a month ago. He already seems older than this. sigh. (that's my mama-heart breaking)

He never stops moving. When he's eating, his arms and legs are constantly in motion, by rotating his wrists and ankles, kicking and banging. It's no wonder he eats so much. He burns it all off as it's going down.

He has also worn out that "bumbo" seat, as you can see it cracked in the front. What baby wears out a bumbo??? Oh yeah, mine. Monkey in training. aka Wild Man.

You also see George popping in, complete with bedhead and his 3rd cast (which is now off and replaced with a removable splint.). Please nevermind the state of the house. This was shot before/during/after clean-up clean-up time. We live in a constant state of living. It's the way it is with Many Small Monkeys. And I guess, we wouldn't have it any other way. (Not that we could if we wanted to.)

The new things I learned as a parent this week.

2011-09-03T11:47:00.001-05:00

End of summer, VBS, back to school prep, sick kids, cleaning projects.... All equals busy busy.

I had a couple nights of up and down and up and down the stairs, on the hunt for drinks, thermometers, medicine, blah blah blah. No barf buckets, though. (YAY!) Throw in some fever-induced, delirious, crazy dreams and a freaked out child who wanted her mama to sleep with her, and you have one sleep deprived lady.

I was so tired.

After 2 nights of this, following one late night at WallyWorld where children should never be at 10:45 pm even if the reason is to attempt to finish school shopping to avoid another trip to town (Lesson #1), I was so... so.... t i r e d.

So I didn't pick up the living room before I went to bed. Lesson #2.

These toys are evil. Not as bad as Lego's, but almost.

The reason, however, why I came downstairs at 4:37 am, and walked across a landmine of a living room in the pitch black of night, was to obtain a diaper for a super-soaked baby. I could have sworn I changed his diaper before I put him to bed, but with being so tired, it's possible I just imagined it. (Not sure if this was a lesson or an oversight)

Diapers can only hold so much pee.

Really. It's true.

Given the time, and the fact that my eyeballs were protesting light, I decided to change this diaper by the light of the moon. Lesson #3. Or is that #4.

You may not know that super-soaked diapers do one thing... explode. Yep. They explode these little balls of gel. Pee-soaked jelly balls. Thing is, there's no warning sound to alert you this has happened. So imagine my surprise as I am trying to change this diaper in the dark and there's.... stuff... sort of slippery stuff by my knee. Did I mention I'm changing this diaper in my bed? Where I was sleeping? sigh.

Now

forced

turn

the

light.

s i g h

By turning on the light, I have discovered large quantities of pee soaked jelly stuff all over my bed where I was sleeping, and this stuff is impossible to clean up. It just r-o-o-o-lls right around when you try to pick it, swipe it, whatever.

Captain Huggyface was none too happy about the light, and since he's at that uber-mobility age of constant motion, diaper changing could qualify as an acrobatic circus feat. Throw in some pee-soaked gel balls and whamo-chango! Midnight madness. All in all this was not a pleasant experience.

But that's not all. (Cuz you didn't really think that was the end of the story did you?)

Diaper changed, baby back in bed on his way to slumber, me madly swiping jelly balls out of my bed (and at this point I "didn't care" where they landed - on the floor was just fine with me as long as they were out of my bed). I layed down. There is clearly still stuff in my bed. #tootiredtocare

I roll over, but there's something in my mouth.

What's that?

Oh no. ugh.

Oh, yes. You guessed it.

A pee-soaked jelly ball in. my. mouth.

I often see people online use an acronym that I'm not quite sure what it means. Find Me Liquor? Or something else. In this moment, either one would have been appropriate.

(Post data: those gel balls, once dried, become crunchy. How fun is that to wake up to?)

Dam Fine Store

2011-08-13T16:36:00.001-05:00

Little towns usually have hidden gems. Spots that at first look might appear "not that great." It's that second, unhurried look where you notice the charm. We have one of these pretty near us. It's actually well known around here.

My husband grew up in our small town, the son of a fairly conservative (at the time) Christian single mom. There was absolutely NO SWEARING permitted. Except.... when you went to this joint. Because... it's called.... The Dam Store. I tell ya, kids can have a LOT of fun with that. (Adults too. teehee.)

As the sign states, they sell a bit of what you need. The menu is pretty small, though I think they've added to it a bit over the last decade or so. The main things they're famous for are burgers and pie. They now offer grilled cheese, chicken strips, tator tots and fries, plus chips, pop and shakes. And bait, if you plan on doing a little river fishing. Some little old lady made the pies for years, but the owners daughter apprenticed under her and took over when the other lady was somewhere around 93 years old. You can read all about that here.

We like to point out the nature around us. Be sure to check out the enormous bee hive in the picture above hanging right up there with birthday balloons and chips, and the two racks of deer antlers below. Oh, you can't miss the cute cross stitch someone made.

Besides the antlers, hives, a wall full of mounted fish (sorry, no pic) and odd assortment of cute little signs, local art also adorns the walls. You may even be able to purchase copies of special commemorative prints done by local artists. But don't quote me on that.

This little treasure of a place is located next to... you guessed it... a dam. It also boasts a campground and hydroelectric plant. A complete package, don't you think? (teehee)

It's an interesting place to go to eat,

let the kids run around a bit,

the scenery is beautiful,

and the roar of the water exhilarating.

I highly recommend going to the Dam Store. It's dam fine.

Industrious

2011-08-06T05:27:00.006-05:00

No one will ever call this girl lazy.

Pardon the bad picture. Bright sun and shade don't mix kindly with exposures.

She's a goal oriented, go-getter. Enthusiastic, and (usually) undaunted by a little work.

She wanted to have a little "garage sale" where she could "sell stuff," explaining to me how we would put tape and write on it.

Why, I asked.

Oh, so we could have extra money for groceries and stuff.

How sweet, but I think we have enough money for groceries.

She and her sister, that is. So I sent them off to find their merchandise.

Mama came up with the signs.

We sold a golf ball to the neighbor boy, and God Bless the woman who drove by, turned around and came back, to buy a bald naked Barbie for a quarter, and told Koko to "keep the change."

My girl was so happy.

Logic

2011-08-05T05:18:00.002-05:00

The street sweeper is broken. And when it wasn't, we always had our cars parked in the way. Now, it seems, we have a new sandbox.

I looked over and saw this stinker sitting on the curb. I hollered over to Boots to get out of the street, and continued whatever I was doing. Next time I looked over at him, this is where I saw him.

Again I hollered, "Get out of the street." He replied, "I am, mommy. I'm laying right here. On the grass."

Technically, he was right. Guess it's hard to argue with that logic.

Nice to see Lion keeping him company and obeying the rules too.

Quote

2011-08-04T23:24:00.000-05:00

I just read this. Wow.

The alternative to facing the truth is always some form of self-destruction. --Brennan Manning

How true.

I could say that I always prefer truth, face truth, but then I know that would not be honest with myself. We all have places we run to/run from, ways we hide. Denial is not a river in Africa, it lives in my refrigerator.

It's just way easier to see someone else's (self)-destruction and call it out than it is to see our own.

The Arm, parte cuatro.

2011-08-04T17:15:00.001-05:00

This is the continuation of the story of a broken arm. You can read the other parts here:

part one, part deux, Arm Photo (with Warning), and part three.

In the morning, I tried to get back to the hospital before the doc did rounds. I had talked with Kong to check on the boy and to let him know when I would be leaving. He said that George was more than ready to come home, and was refusing to eat. He was only interested in getting the heck out of there. And, he wanted his mom. I talked to George and convinced him to let daddy order him some ice cream for breakfast. Yes, I would let you have ice cream for breakfast, son. (He perked at that suggestion.) Daddy got him to have some sausage and a pancake too.

I stopped quickly at my MIL's house to drop off some sorely missed blankies and give my other kiddos a hug, I found a sad Miss Koko. My one regret in this whole situation is that I did not say goodbye to the kids, explain what was going on or reassure them that everything would be fine. I think the two littles were clueless but Koko, a bit wiser, knew to be worried and so I'm glad I stopped by there. She needed her mama too.

When my sister in law had come to the hospital the night before to pick up my brother and bring us food, she brought my nephews along. I told my brother that Mammu, my nephew, could come over the next day and see George when he was home. As I drove out of town that morning, past my brother's house, I could see poor Mammu waiting outside, checking to see when our car would be returning home. It was 8:30 am. Poor kid. I called my brother to let him know it would probably be late afternoon, so that his son could stop standing at the corner on lookout. My dad had said that after we left the park to go to the ER, Mammu kept saying, "That's my cousin. That's my cousin," sort of in shock and worry. Gotta love how those boys love each other. And Mammu is very protective so I know he was anxiously awaiting his cousin's return to safety.

When I got to the hospital, the damn broke, a little, and my stoic and brave little boy had a bit of a cry. I had missed the doctor but the last dose of antibiotics was deemed unnecessary and so we were let out early. George was none too happy. With a quick stop to get a movie (gotta love those curbside rental boxes in blue or red) and some siblings, we were homeward bound.

George with Ham Bone.

George was a good little patient, very low key and protective of his arm. He was scared to sleep the first two nights, afraid he might hurt it in his sleep, but that's what codeine's for, right? He remains cautious, as you might expect, and for some time was upset by any talking about what happened, which is hard when everyone keeps asking what he did and "what the other guy looked like." He even told me that it makes him want to cry. Aw, poor guy. Such a tender one, he is.

We went in a week after his surgery to get a hard cast on. He was pretty freaked out to not have that cast on his arm. The PA's in casting did great in distracting him with (the constant ringing of) their cell phone which played such fun hits as the theme songs to Indiana Jones, Star Wars and Pink Panther. All hits with this kid. He chose a black cast, which required the purchase of "special" metallic markers, of which he wanted only the gold, and was very excited to have friends sign his cast.

Now, more waiting. The fun's only half over.

The Arm, part 3.

2011-07-24T23:02:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the delay. I was trying to get copies of the initial x-ray. I thought it was worth it. The gal in x-ray gasped when she pulled it up to print off. I said, "See? That's why I want a copy."

This all went pretty fast. From the time he got hurt (around 7pm, we got to the ER about 7:30 or so), things moved along steadily. George was wheeled into surgery at about 9:35. He was out and in recovery around 10:45, and then taken to his room for the night some time after 11:30.

My mom and sister-in-law managed to finish supper, got the kids packed (amazingly despite my scatterbrained directions) and brought them to my mother in law's house for the overnight. My mom brought some things up to the hospital (including CHOCOLATE, THANK YOU MOM!!!!) and after dropping off the kids, my SIL brought us supper. I was so thankful that my family was all there to help pick up the pieces, gather the kids, and get them taken care of. Every person was needed, and we felt so blessed by that. I don't know what I would have done, what I would have thought of to do, had I been alone with all the kids when this happened, as so often when stuff happens Hubs is at work. It's not a job you can just "come home" from, especially when you're 8-12 hours drive from home. The timing, the people present, the quick service, I believe that was all under God's watchful, caring hand.

While the boy was in surgery, I posted on FB (my non-Smarphone is wifi capable - yeehaw!), and the support and prayers that came in from family and friends and even people I don't know was awesome. I could feel those prayers lifting us up.

After surgery the doctor came in and explained that all was well. The orthoped said it a high velocity break, and that in 12 years, he's only seen 3 others that bad. Fortunately it was a clean break, and the wound was clean. (I had been amazed that George didn't have any gravel or scratches on him anywhere. I even asked him if maybe he broke it by holding on to the handlebars too tightly.) The doc did have to open the existing ~~hole~~ incision slightly to have enough room to work, and did put a pin in to keep the larger of the two bones in place. He explained about casting and appointments, and then we just waited for George to wake up.

Sorry. The copy of these xrays isn't as good of quality.

George was finally awake and brought up to a room just before midnight. We got him settled in, but I think he was still drugged up pretty good. The nurse tried explaining the pain chart to him but he kept landing on the smiley face (Zero pain), and when we asked him about where he got the name Ham Bones from, he gave us some really wild story about Arthur and a dog looking for bones for his sock collection... yeah. It unraveled and made no sense whatsoever, but it was amusing.

When the nurse was talking to him, out of the blue he said, "You know, God was with me taking care of me during my surgery." I think we were all a little shocked by that statement as none of us knew what to say. The nurse just brushed it off, I said wow that's great, and dad just sat there freaked that his son had possibly "seen the light." Later, when the nurse had left, Kong asked him how he knew God was with him. He said, "I prayed before I went in to surgery and God came and protected me."

Wow. Just wow. The faith of a child.

As a parent, it's touching to know that your kids believe in God or are interested in that stuff. George has not always had the enthusiasm. For as much as you can talk to them about God, the rest is between them and Him. We don't have any control over it. This wasn't just some drugged up story he was telling. At church 5 days later, he told the same story to the Kids Church, and the teacher told me George expressed he was quite sure that God had taken care of him. He didn't remember I was there after surgery, but he remembered this. So to have your child seek out and then feel God's presence, and know He was there without a shadow of a doubt is amazing.Wow. Just wow.

Since George had slept in recovery, he had been bright eyed and bushy tailed when he was transferred to a room, and was all excited to watch cartoons on cable. Unfortunately, only Hannah Montana was on at midnight. He was bummed when mom called it quits, but we all needed sleep. Kong stayed at the hospital while I took the baby home, as there was no place to put him. I left the guys to have a "sleepover." Probably not as fun as you might normally want in a sleepover, with casts and iv's, and the codeine might be a little too much fun, but we don't normally hand that out at our sleepovers. :D

Short

2011-07-23T23:32:00.002-05:00

Since I'm posting things late, I might as well throw this in there.

Koko has been begging me to get her hair cut short. Since her birthday in February, I think. "All my friends are doing it." Oh Lord. We're starting that already?

Easter. It had been curled, but this shows about how long it was.

Kong and the Mrs. are long haired people. We like long hair. The girls have beautiful hair. It's a PAIN in the BUTT to brush. Kong tried to convince Koko that she should keep it long and beautiful. It didn't really work.

Miss Cheeks was getting a little shaggy now.

Also, her most chopped of the chopped bangs had fully grown out.

When Cheeks gave herself her own hairdo last fall, I said "Chop it all off!" Ok, she actually ~~said~~ did it. I just said, "Finish the job right," and "Help me, Rhonda." So my ~~savior~~ friend came and did damage control. Bless her! And she did chop it all off. It was great. Looked super cute on her, suited her face and personality, and the best part: No more tears. Just like the shampoo, only with brushing. I vowed to continue on this path ~~to greatness~~ of shortness with Cheeks. I just didn't see it for Koko.

But then....

Summer came, I was tired of the tears, and thought fine. Let's do it.

So we did. Or rather, Andrea and ??someothergirl did.

I love love love how Koko's is shorter in back. I asked for that and love how it suits her. Next time I might ask for more layers or something for Cheeks. They're both so adorable, if I do say so myself.

Ta da! Aren't they gorgeous? We'll be keeping these hairstyles for a while.

teeth. or not.

2011-07-22T23:31:00.000-05:00

Here's a post I forgot to publish. I wrote it mid June. oops!

He's about as toothless as a kid could get right now. For being the one who started late (didn't get his first tooth til he was 10 months and 11 days), he's making up for it. His sister, 14 1/2 months his junior, started before him, with the two bottom front ones. He lost those soon after she did, but it was still a few months I think. Well, in the last 2 months, he has lost 6 teeth, I believe, and has surpassed her. However, he can no longer eat apples.

He's not too big on pulling teeth out, and of coarse won't let anyone near him if they threaten to do it for him. He actually lost one of this last batch in his sleep. Yeah, gross.

Even though he figured out the whole Tooth Fairy thing, we still go thru the motions. It's cute. Wouldn't want to ruin it for the others. But man, is this kid raking in the cash this summer. lol

I forgot to take a picture showing him in his wholiness, but here's a fun one of George and his cousin that sort of shows it. Funny story: the Cuz came up, saw George wearing his Superman shirt, said he'd be right back, went home, changed into his Superman shirt, and then came back up to our house to get George to go back and play at his house. lol. Yeah. A lotta of running he did. Glad they have the energy for all that.

After this pic I think he lost a few more teeth, but has since had some grow in. It's taken a loooonnngg time for the one top from tooth to bust through the gums, and it's just starting to do that now, but the top left is mostly in. So funny to see kids with these big teeth in their mouths.

The Arm, part deux.

2011-07-21T21:36:00.003-05:00

My kid is amazing. It needs to be said. I know that every parent thinks their kid is amazing, but mine was so awesome during these next 3 hours of the story. Stunningly so. Everyone kept saying it.

While we were still at home, the hubs had called in to work, but since he was under their "call-in window" they told him he had to come to work. If not, it was a final warning or termination. Go to work, I said. We don't need that added stress. But how sucky is that? To have to go to work when your child is "majorly" injured. We were too dazed at this point to argue it.

My kid's being a rock star started about now. By the time we got him buckled into the car, he had well finished crying. He was white as a ghost, but "calm" and quiet. I apologized several times to my mom and told her I needed her to stay with the kids. Of coarse, was the answer, just tell me what you need. I'm so glad they were there.

My brother came to the hospital with me, as he knew I'd need help. I had to bring Huggyface since I am his favorite food source and favorite person, and I knew we'd be hours. But wrangling a broken arm and a stroller was not in the cards. Thank you, dear brother. You were A Godsend.

As we were leaving town, I just felt the need to pray. Sometimes, our prayers are not eloquent or with words aplenty, but God sees our heart. I prayed the shortest prayer ever, just thanking God for having my family present, and asking to cover our needs (medically) and to help with George's pain, amen. Ten seconds. Tops. And then I kept driving. Calmly.

At the hospital, they got him in immediately upon seeing the arm, and dispatched a call to the on-call orthopedic surgeon. (At the time of injury, the bone was probably protruding a 1/4" to 1/2".) Usually there can be a lot of waiting with emergency, but we either lucked out with it not being that busy (there were a lot more people there at midnight, that's for sure) or it was just. that. serious. Probably both. Either way, we didn't have to wait a ton of time to get things moving. The nurses did really great at talking to him and trying to divert his attention, and also at minimizing his pain. He would get a little freaked out whenever they would start touching him or wanting to do things but by explaining what they were doing, and getting reassurance from mom and uncle, he took it all just fine. It was pretty funny when one of the male ?EMT's was helping to get him undressed and said he'd have to cut off his shirt. George freaked out a little and said, "www wait. you're what? you're gonna cut my shirt?" high-pitched and with this wild look on his face. It was kind of funny, but I suppose he didn't understand why they would need to. I just told him yep, so they don't have to pull it over your arm, and that reassurance from mom that it's ok settled him right down. WHen he had the IV put in they loaded his arm up with numbing stuff first, which was helpful. The nurse explained step by step what she was going to do (and used the term straw instead of needle, Thank you, nurse - so helpful), and even though it still hurt, he just lay there watching, and took it all with the most amazing reserve of courage I've seen.

This is my kid who is afraid of the dark, who can't watch shows about lion attacks or 48 Hours because he'll be traumatized for weeks, regardless of the consoling and convincing we try to give him. He'll sleep with his sister when he can't convince mom to let him sleep in her bed, and refuses to go upstairs alone, even during the day. Nightlights... a MUST. He fears shots or pokes weeks in advance, even for the dentist. We, everyone - nurses, attendants, doctors - were so awed by how brave he was, and kept saying so. There was never any fuss, no crying, no kicking or screaming or knashing of teeth that you'd easily see in kids his age and even adults. He just took it all in stride. We even told him it was ok to be scared and cry if he needed to. Nope, he just held it all in with stoic bravery.

On his commute to work, Kong had called back and ended up on the phone with a company manager to discuss this situation. Fortunately he'd make a special allowance. Good thing, cuz I think that guy woulda crashed a semi. He was in no shape to be driving, honestly. So he was able to turn around and come to the hospital. Lucky for him, he missed most of the gory stuff with the IV and x-rays. Daddy doesn't do well with needles. And I was very glad to have him there with us.

One of the things the staff did to comfort George was to give him a handmade stuffed animal. The nurse brought it to him with a bandage around it's arm too, and asked him to name it. Ah, such a funny kid. He named it Ham Bone. We sure got a kick out of it and his funny sense of humor. Apparently it was part of a conversation earlier with his cousin and Grandpa, and also something to do with Spongebob or Aurthur. I dunno. He was drugged up when he told us the story.

George with Ham Bone

From the x-ray, it was pretty clear that both bones were broken, and the orthoped came in fairly quickly and talked to us about what was next - surgery. His injury was a compound fracture, a couple inches above the wrist, with the bone protruding out the front side of his arm. Obviously he would need surgery to set it, and there was a possibility he might need a pin to hold the bones in place (which he did). Fortunately, the break had missed the growth plate (a blessing). Amazingly, the doc said he should only be in a cast 5 weeks or so. Wow. So fast to heal.

I'm pretty sure I don't have to indicate where the break is on this picture.

We were all pretty freaked out but stayed calm and kept our jittery nerves below the surface as much as possible. Both mom and dad got a little teary with our first born child, but all in all we tried to make it a "no big deal" situation, while also expressing to George how brave he was and how proud we were of him. Also, how we would DEFINITELY be buying him that Lego toy he'd been bugging me about all day. LOL Something to look forward to. I think he earned it.

Arm Photo (with WARNING)

2011-07-20T20:28:00.003-05:00

WARNING!!!

The picture you are about to see is kinda gross.

If you are not into freaky graphic photos, them just back up now. Click the X and come back tomorrow.

I don't want to be the cause of anyone losing their lunch. Well, actually, I don't think it's that gross, but it will make you recoil a little, maybe feel a little sick to your stomach. It is of a broken arm, and all. A broken arm that had the bone sticking out. The bone is not too obvious in this picture, but there is some blood and you can definitely see where it came out. Just lettin' ya know.

I asked George if I could take a picture of his arm. At first he said no, but then he changed his mind and agreed. It was a pretty bad break, as I've already sort of described, and it was so awkward looking, it was worth remembering. I figured he would be interested in looking back years later. Turns out, he's already asked to see the picture a time or two.

So...

If you're sure you want to see it...

Here's a picture of his sweet face, first, just so blogger does't post the grody pic as the post icon. Cuz no one needs to get exposed unnecessarily.

Sweet face. smirk.

That's his best Superman pose, apparently. Fierce, isn't he? lol

And then the yucky pic.

Last warning.

Ok. Your choice.

Don't say I didn't warn you....

Kinda makes you wince, doesn't it?

Late to the story? Read all about it here: Part One, Part deux, Part Three, Parte cuatro

The Arm, part one.

2011-07-18T17:33:00.000-05:00

It was a dark and stormy night...

Haha. Nope. Just kidding. It was a bright sunny day.

I would like to preface this story with the statement that you may go through tough things, trauma of all sorts. Life sort of ensures that. While we can wonder at the 'why me' or 'where was God,' the reality is He doesn't say that he will keep us from experiencing those things, but, and what I and my family felt, was that HE, indeed, is present during those times. There are lots of parts to this story, small seemingly insignificant moments, easily overlooked, that show that He was there for us.

So back to this bright sunny day.

A few years ago, my parents decided to start a new family tradition of "Picnic in the Park" family dinners. Since my brother and I both live in the same town, both have kids, and I conveniently live across the street from a park, they thought we could have a get together where they would come to us. The kids are entertained by the jungle gyms and swings, the adults get to talk, and no one has to clean their house. Win win.

It was our first one of the season. My dad was grilling, my brother watching, (younger brother couldn't come) and mom, my sister-in-law and I were chatting. The kids were all playing except for the big boys who were riding their bikes around in the street. I had only been there about 15-20 minutes when I heard some commotion, saw my brother start jogging and looked over to see that George had fallen off his bike. He was getting up, holding his arm. At first I thought he was looking at his elbow, thinking maybe he scraped it. I also started to jog towards him, and during that I saw that his arm was flopping in a rather unnatural fashion.

Oh crap. I just knew he had broken it. There was no denying it, even from a few hundred feet away. The panic started to rise, and my heart was beating fast. As he got to me, my brother and I both saw that not only did he break his arm, but the bone was sticking out.

Oh, gees. Deep breath. Panic... panic... now what? My mind was racing. Poor kid was screaming, more in a frantic nature, and kept saying, "Am I going to have to have a shot? Will I have to get stitches/" You almost want to laugh at this. Least of your worries, my dear. I did my best to stay calm and just say, I'm not sure, but we'll get it taken care of.

Meanwhile, my mind is still racing, and freaking, thoughts stumbling over each other. I strangely asked, "Do I have to take him to the hospital?" My family looked at me like I was stupid or crazy or both, and said, "Uh, yeah. He needs to go to the hospital for this." Later, when I thought about it, what I meant was, "Do *I* take him, or do I call 911?" I got a little laugh out of that one. The looks on their faces. lol

My brother and I helped George hold his arm and walk across the park to my house. The girls kept coming up to me and I just kept telling them, Go to Grammie. I didn't want them to see his arm and be freaked out. I told my brother to go yell up the stairs to Kong, who was sleeping and would be getting up to go to work shortly, that George broke his arm, and then to go get a towel from the bathroom to wrap around the arm to help stabilize it. Poor hubby. What a way to wake up, especially for someone who doesn't handle trauma very well. Later he told me that he even just stood at the top of the stairs, dazed, saying to himself, "I don't know if I can go down there."

My mom brought an ice pack from her cooler, and we put that and a towel around his arm, set it on a pillow, and then on a cookie sheet to stabilize the pillow. I quickly called the ER to let them know we were coming so they could be expecting us and so that we wouldn't have to wait or explain too much. Not that a bone sticking out isn't explanation enough.

My mind was racing as to what all I should bring, what to tell my mom to do, and then off we went.

I Corinthians 13

2011-07-12T12:59:00.000-05:00

Love is patient
Love is kind
Love does not envy
Love does not boast
Love is not proud (or too proud to humble oneself in repentance - my words)
Love does not dishonor others
Love is not self-seeking
Love is not easily angered
Love keeps no record of wrongs
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Really struggling with this lately.

I fail.
I am a very imperfect person.
I make lots of mistakes.
I try to say sorry, but sometimes that's hard for me, the admitting of wrong. Who wants to be wrong? Not me!
I try to have grace. I fail.
I have good intentions.
I very rarely intend to inflict harm, and even then I'll just stop doing the nice things I do or smear boogers on your good towels (uh, sorry mom. :D)

But I am human. So sometimes my good intentions comes out wrong ~~and I have to do this~~ (to admit my mistake). My good intentions are sometimes shadowed by my own anger or hurt feelings. sigh. It seems like a never ending battle for me. Will I ever get it right? Wouldn't it be nice if we weren't human? Never made mistakes? Always said/did the right thing? sigh.

I struggle.

I'll keep trying. Eventually,.. maybe,.. I'll get something right.

Love never fails.

I hope.

A natural

2011-07-10T13:22:00.000-05:00

Cheeks: There was squirrel poop outside but I didn't step in it.
Mrs.: How do you know it was squirrel poop? (hey, I wouldn't know.)
Cheeks: Squirrel poop is green.
Mrs.: (Really?!?) How do you know squirrel poop is green?
Cheeks: Because it is.
Mrs.: Yes, but where did you learn this.
Cheeks: No where. I just know. I'm a natural.

Well, there you have it.

And who knows. Maybe she's right. She does talk about becoming a vet-er-in-arian.

A first for someone

2011-07-06T23:08:00.000-05:00

We've had an exciting night. My big boy George broke his arm in a big way tonight. He got a quick rush to the hospital where he just got out of surgery. Uffda!

Nothing like giving your parents a heart attack. He'll be here overnight just to make sure he's ok.

More on that story later. Right now I'm just trying to get the image of his bone protruding out of his arm out of my head.

Sweet 4th and 16th

2011-07-05T00:27:00.005-05:00

We missed you today. We did the things you'd want to do - celebrate the 4th in true Fourth of July fashion. George even remembered about Z99 signs and made one for everyone. (10 points if you can point out his "dyslexic" one. teehee)

We sweat our buns off this year. The temp wasn't bad but it was humid so that makes it seem so much hotter. We enjoyed the shade of Auntie Naynay's FIL's house for the last half of the parade, but it was packed there. The afternoon was relaxed, with lunch at Pizza Ranch with Grandma, Irene and Coco, and then a cool down in the pool, while we waited out the day's final festivity. (~~and for the life of me I can't get the pics off my damned phone. maybe later~~.)

We even went to the fireworks in town. Boots is so scared of them (and the loud noise) that there was no way we'd be able to do the small town ones like last year. We sat on the courthouse lawn (they shoot them over the river now) and had a great view with less noise, but the skeeters were still giving us a workout. Fireworks sucked, though. Lasted a very lame 15 minutes. Seriously, we were in the car by 10:18. (That's why the other town is better. I found that out when I would drive home from mkts display, more than once, and be watching said small towns still-going fireworks from 10 miles away.) We still had fun, though. 15 minutes of fireworks is more than we have most other days.

Now we're home (well, your dad's at work), everyone's sawing logs, covered in bug spray and sucker stickiness.

But I feel that missing thing.

Happy Sweet Sixteen, my dear.

I hope it was the best ever.

For what it's worth, we, all of us, your dad, me, the kids, we ALL love you and miss you.

He misses you, but he's ~~not fighting your rejection anymore~~ having trouble getting through. Anytime YOU want to call US (your dad), to make a connection, let us know where you are... well, that'd be nice. Because he's tried, many many times. And ~~you must not want to be found~~ you're hard to reach. Regardless, we're still here and we still love you. Nothing could ever change that. I repeat. Nothing could ever change that and don't ever believe otherwise.

You are now entering....

2011-06-29T08:58:00.001-05:00

Something strange is happening. It's freaking me out.

I have a seven (and a half) year old. A seven (and a half) year old boy. Seven (and a half) year old boys like to play, and ride their bike, and build forts. They get dirty. They don't care. Often times, they're happy to wear the same clothes for days. And bathing? Well, that's optional.

A week (and a half) ago (haha), George gets up for church, asking to take a shower. Ok, fine. Gets dressed. Fine. Asks me if his clothes match. Uh... ok. .... Fine. (He's color blind so this is kind of an issue but he's never cared before.)

Then... THEN... he proceeds to the bathroom to gel his hair. GEL HIS HAIR. His OWN hair. And it's not even picture day. HUH!?!?!?! Ok. But I'm secretly thinking, is there a cute girl at church I don't know about?

This last Sunday, (the one 2 days ago), again. Shower. Clothes. Only this time, no hair gel. (Please note, I don't think he asked to take a shower anywhere in between then, and I'm not sure if I made him, either. This would indicate that showering is a special occasion. For what, I don't know.)

Last night, he goes to a friends house, and comes home a few hours later, saying he needs to take a shower. He played in the dirt and he needs to take a shower, and then in the morning he will need to take another one. Ok. I really didn't pay any attention to him until about the seventh time he repeated this when I finally said, Dude, if you want to take a shower, go take one. So he did.

In the meantime, I was upstairs reading bedtime stories to the other kids. He comes up, after his shower, whips the towel off, parts flailing wildly, arms spread high in the air, and says, "Do I look shiny?" Covering my eyes, (Ok, not really. We're not very modest here.) I said, "Sure. Pretty shiny." And then I continued with the story. However, apparently he wasn't done with our conversation as he kept saying how he was going to take another shower in the morning. Sure, but, but I'm reading here.

Fast forward 11 hours.

I'm laying in bed, trying to eke out as much shut eye and quiet time as I can. I hear someone pass by my door and go downstairs. This is normal so I was not alarmed. Realizing that Huggyface was in no way shape or form going to go back to sleep nor going to be quiet about his being awake, I started getting out of bed. (Hey, after age 30, when you stay up too late, then have to wake a few times in the night to feed a certain peewee child, it's a process, the whole eyes open, body moving thing.) I manage to hoist myself and baby out of my bed, and upon coming downstairs, I hear this sort of jet plane noise that is unmistakably my shower. (Seriously, it's like this high pitched squeal, like a jet plane. The shower head is new, has been making this noise since we put it in a few months ago, and no, my husband did not "amend" it in any way. But seriously. Jet plane. It's annoying.)

So I go into the bathroom and say, "Whatcha doin', bud?"

"I'm taking a shower. I told you I was going to take another shower in the morning."

"Ok, but you're not dirty yet."

"Yeah, but I want to be shiny."

Ok. Whatever.

So I'm in the living room changing Huggy's diaper when I hear, "Mom, can you fetch me some clothes?" Huh? What the heck am I? Every one's personal attendant/slave? Is this what his father is teaching him?

I don't answer.

A few minutes later he comes out, wrapped in towel and again asks, "So, do I look shiny?" Uh, yeah, sure. He starts heading upstairs, and I hear him say, "The cleaner I get, the cleaner I'll be." True dat, son. But WHO ARE YOU?

Still, I'm shaking my head in confusion at these events. CONFUSION.

Suddenly, I decide I need to blog this whole thing. (Though, mind you, it's not done yet.) As I'm writing, he comes downstairs, dressed, and heads to the bathroom again, where he brushes his teeth. Unrequested. His teeth. With toothpaste. Then, he comes and stands next to me and I can clearly smell that he has also PUT ON DEODORANT. (Which he definitely needs to do every day but usually never does unless asked.) Again. Confusion. Standing there at my side, he says something to me but my brain cannot function. I know I responded, but I'm so dumbfounded that I can't remember the exchange. I do know it was good. As in, blog post material good. Darn my confused memory.

Now he's talking about going back to his friend's house for whatever fort building fun they had yesterday, and informs me he is going to pick up some friends. (I'm laughing. Some friends, huh? What "friends"? lol) But all this talk and preparation has got his sister interested, so she's now showered and dressed, and both of them have informed me that they've had breakfast... a banana. Also, he calls from the other room and tells her to brush her teeth.

Do you hear it? That up and down, haunting melody? Do do do do, do do do do.

You are now entering....

The Twilight Zone.

Boys are funny.

2011-06-14T23:31:00.000-05:00

Or at least mine is.

In late April, right after George lost a tooth, he comes up to me and softly says, "The Tooth Fairy isn't real. It's make believe. I figured out that it's your mom and dad."

Hm. Well, whatdya know. Still not sure if he gets it about Santa or the Easter Bunny but we're not asking. He's more than happy to play along. But of coarse, the Tooth Fairy is bringing him money, so why wouldn't he?

Since that time he hasn't mentioned anything like that, until he pulled out his 6th tooth in the last 2 months night before last. He had put it in a baggy, and whispered to me, "Mom, I just want you to know where my tooth is for, you know, when they Tooth Fairy comes, since that's you." LOL. Love that kid.

Tooth before this one, yeah, he ate it. Fell out while he was sleeping. He ripped his bed apart the next morning looking for it, even taking the mattress off. I told him if he really wanted to find it he'd probably have to look in his poop. He refused to believe that.

He has also started some new hobbies. We recently came upon a calligraphy set. Once I got the ink flowing for him, he wrote and wrote. There are guides and tracing paper and examples with it and he has followed some of them to a T. Sort of an odd hobby for a seven year old but he's always enjoyed writing and drawing so I guess that's not too far off.

Last week it was knitting. I took up knitting a few years ago as something to do for myself. Well the kids have always been fascinated by it and lately he has been asking me to teach him how. Well, every time I pick it up I have to reteach myself. I kind of thought that it would be too difficult for him but figured that finger knitting might be a better way to start. I brought up a video on YouTube, watched it, showed him how, and then he sat there and watched it and practiced all on his own. We all ended up with some very thin, long, light blue "scarves." It was cute, his fascination and concentration with it all, but sort of disconcerting. I mean, it's not many little boys that knit for fun, if you know what I mean. So the social ramifications had me a bit worried. But as I was telling the Kong about this new endeavor, he said, "Oh, yeah. I was just like that when I was little. Always wanting to learn new things." Phew. I was worried how much I would have to shield him from ridicule. But my hubs knows how to do, and is good at doing, many many things. So if that's where all this leads, then hey. Keep on!

Did I ever tell you he's color blind? Runs in my family on my mom's side with males. My grandpa (who was an electrician and also helped build many of the rides at Disney Land, e.g. It's a Small World and Pirates of the Caribbean.), both my brothers. Now George.

He has never been one to care about what he wears, except for some shirts, and the button up ones he likes buttoned up all. the way. Despite how much we try to convince him otherwise. He doesn't really care if he bathes. But since we are still working on hygiene issues, I like him to bathe. Saturday I had him shower before bed. While in the bathroom, he gels his hair. I tried to explain that that needs to be done in the morning so it won't get messed up. He doesn't quite get it. Sunday, he gets up, comes down all dressed (which is totally NOT like him), wearing a rather nice shirt (also not like him), paired with some holey-knee-ed jeans. Now, I'm ok with holes in the knees but these are REALLY holey. And while we want to be holy at church, I'd prefer they not be holey. So I made him change. But it was clear that I was messing up his fashion statement. Say what? Well... then... he comes out of the bathroom and says, how do I look, mom? (HUH?) And he's kind of holding his head funny. Ah yes, He's gelled his hair again. So cute. And I'm thinking, is there a cute girl at church I don't know about? (not likely. He's pretty clueless about that kind of thing. So far.)

Later, I discover his hair gel has made it not only in the sink but on the wall. I got a good chuckle from that. After church, I notice his hair gel job is like something out of the movie "Something About Mary." (If you don't know, don't ask.)

Lord help me

2011-06-03T09:49:00.000-05:00

My kids are going crazy. The end of the school year has them completely jazzed and befuddled, and apparently, completely deaf. I feel like a broken record. A crazy lady (though that one is probably true). Kong is equally irritated by this phenomena. We say something, and it goes COMPLETELY ignored. Like we never said it. Unless of coarse what we're talking about includes some sort of treat.

I'm getting to the end of my rope on this.

I asked Miss Cheeks to pick up the blankets. She plays bowling with stuffed animals and a baseball. I tell he again. Still bowling, only now in another room.

So mama gets in her face. I grasp her chin, get down to her level and say again, pick up the blankets.

How does she respond?

"Mom, your breath stinks."

Thanks, kid.

Thank you for Yesterday

2011-05-30T13:07:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I got schooled, and humbled, in how to accept help from others.

Why is that such a hard lesson? There really are people who are kind and genuinely want to help, even strangers. The fact that I would say 'No' to such help is crazy, especially since they can plainly see I need it, or it's their job, or they just want to be nice, or... they are kind people doing their job with kindness. (That last one's not always a given.)

I have deduced that for me it's an issue of pride. Yep. Pride. Not what I immediately thought the answer would be. But we all have some level of pride about something, even women do, and so when confronted with our own inadequacy in an area, our pride is, shall we say, challenged.

As a mom of many littles, I have my hands full. Literally. But I chose to have these children. Some people don't believe in large families. I didn't exactly plan to have one, but here we are and we wouldn't trade any of them for anything. (Though I wouldn't consider 5 large. It's straddling the fence but large to me would be 7. Or 8. Or 17.) And it is challenging, these early days, regardless of how many you have. Thing is, I don't want pity. I don't want people to think I can't handle it. I don't want to appear weak or incapable or needy. But I do need help. Or maybe I don't need it, but it would be nice. A little lightening of the load.

After I had Huggyface, a friend from church offered to come over and help do laundry or something. As a mother of a newborn who had nursing issues and wanted to be held constantly, I was finding it difficult to take care of my family, make meals, clean up, buy groceries, etc. Admittedly, the laundry ~~mountain~~ pile was growing. And, as she offered, she said that she and her husband had opposite work schedules some days and so really I would be doing her a favor by getting her out of the house, and "allowing" her to be useful instead of wasting her time watching lame tv shows. Well, ok. She convinced me. If I was doing her a favor. *wink wink* So I could accept that. Plus, it's acceptable as a new mom to receive help, right? Never. In my wildest dreams. Could I have imagined that she would come over and spend S E V E N hours helping me. I was truly, truly blessed. How could I ever repay her?

I have another friend that has helped m a n y times by watching my monkeys, in addition to her own. Often on short notice so I could go to a doctor's appointment alone, or once all. day. long. so I could clean and paint and prepare for someone coming stay with us a while. She has made us more than one "new mom meal" and drove to my town to deliver it.

And again, I thought, what can I ever do to repay her?

The bigger question is,

why can't I just accept these kind gifts for what they are?

Gifts. Pure kindness and love and generosity and friendship.

From the person who wanted to help put my groceries on the conveyor belt while I held a tired and hungry crying baby, to whom I said no.

From the nice nurse who got my kids coloring pages and crayons and set each of them up with clipboards and their own place to sit, moving around car seats and purses, attending to each of their needs, listening to their stories, and shifting around once again as the doctor came in, while I sat nursing a baby. (For this one, I just sat marveling how she cared for us, thanking her profusely. It's not like I could get up anyway.)

And from the gal yesterday who asked in the midst of a mothering meltdown if she could help and was met with my less than kind tone of voice and a slammed car door, screaming baby in the background. She didn't deserve me and I didn't deserve her. But she came back when my gas pump wasn't working, fixed the problem, gave me a new gas coupon at twice the discount of the one I had had, and pumped my gas, all while I sat nursing my child. (this happens a lot - the nursing. It was a long day out.) So I sat, feeling bad for my attitude and actions, tears streaming down my face, while also thanking God for her and her persistent kindness to an undeserving customer. To top it off, she even came back, put my pump away, and handed me my receipt, while I could barely squeak out a tear-stained 'thank you.'

So to all you who offer kindness, thank you. Strangers, family, and friends. Thank you, even when I turn you away. It's just that I don't know how to say "yes." But I'm learning.

On Forgetting...

2011-05-26T23:56:00.000-05:00

I'm a mom of five. Five in just under seven years. That's a lot of sleepless nights crammed into a fairly short amount of time. Sometimes I feel like I've lost my mind, both for having five kids, and because I have five kids. Pregnancy brain can only carry you so far - and then how do you explain all the forgetting.

I forget school snacks and registration forms, I forgot to bring my checkbook to the babysitter's, and then kept forgetting to pay her later - for two whole weeks. I have failed to provide immunization forms for preschool for two years, until the school year is almost over. (And last year I don't think I did it at all.) I don't forget birthdays or phone numbers or where I parked my car, but I seem to forget a lot of other stuff that makes me feel so scatterbrained. Well, I am scatterbrained.

Life seemingly passes by in such a blur. I need to stop and sit a while. Not sit on FB, but to sit and watch and see and listen and hear. I want to remember these days. The smiles, the sillies, cute toesies and nosies. I want to always be able to remember how they smelled, and how I held them as babes, how they later wrapped their chubby little arms around my neck, practically squeezing my head off, one of them.

But also in the grasping on of these days, I don't want to forget the "me" days, which seem to keep getting lost in the shuffle. I don't want to forget my dreams, my passions, how to laugh, how to dance. I don't want to be forgotten under my mom-gear, that once, once I was a whole person who lived independently of a spouse or children. My identity was found in me and who I was, mostly, and how I had become reconnected with an identity in Christ. But it seems I don't have time for all that "me" stuff anymore. Not even hardly for "God" stuff. I don't want to forget how to speak Spanish - it is my passion, my soul song, my gift. I don't want to forget how to dance and prance and not fall down when I do. I don't want to forget how to hear Him, to see Him, to seek and to hunger for him. But I'm afraid it is happening, has happened.

If only the world could stop for a day, or slow down just a tad. I could use a big pause button, to press at times so I can gather my thoughts, my messes and my intentions. But the flurry of my life, or life right now, seems like a giant whirlwind, tossed and torn and strewn about. I want to see beauty and joy. I want to see my life so I won't forget.

Cuz today,

I went to town to buy milk and pears.

I came home without milk.

Story of my life.

I want to be more intentional. I just hope I haven't forgotten how.

Free Stuff

2011-05-25T18:52:00.000-05:00

I love free stuff. I love to get samples in the mail, or heck, even at the grocery store. (Who doesn't love those cute little ice cream cones they dish up? And the Cream Puffs at Sam's Club? YUM!) Even more, I love my birthday which, both sadly and thankfully, only comes once a year. Combine the two and YAY! Par-tay!

I remember as a kid getting a special card in the mail on my birthday from Baskin Robbins for a free birthday treat. That was the best! I loved their kid-enticing upside down ice cream cones decorated to look like a clown. So fun and festive. And I remember carefully staring through the glass trying to choose just the right one. I think there were other things like that too. Around here, there's not a whole lot of that going on anymore. Which is a bummer for my kids. There are a couple restaurants that sing to you, one used to give you a free dessert but now it's a free entree, and another place gave you your choice of dried out kiev or an overcooked steak, as long as you were willing to sit among the very gray-haired folks. (Even for a young-ish adult, that's not exactly my idea of a whopping good time.) So in my perusing of the great world wide web today, I found this little gem. And we even happen to HAVE one of these places near us!!!

Join Aveda's Birthday Program today and get a free, full-size product on your birthday!

Get great products for free. No purchase required! But if you must, get a facial, or a massage. That's what I suggest. Plus, by sighing up, you get a free something coupon to print out today!

Man, I can't WAIT til my birthday. Woot woot!

It's not what you think

2011-05-24T16:48:00.001-05:00

We are in a snack frenzy in my house. Everyone is snacking all. day. long. I, of coarse, am not innocent in this either, but the kids are like ravenous dogs, constantly hungry, never satisfied. I can't tell you how many nights I send them to bed with tales of woe of how they are so hungry. (But seriously? We OFTEN eat at 7 pm, and they go to bed at 8. And by often I mean 7 out of 7 nights. Or thereabouts. How hungry can they get in that time? They've barely finished eating.)

I usually offer them good choices, like fruit or crackers, but they've gotten tired of the same old same old. The good thing is, that I've been able to bring back things old things that they were tired of but now enjoy again. Enter chocolate animal crackers.

Lovely little things. Apparently, making them chocolate makes them not just "for babies" anymore. And anything made chocolate tends to be an improvement. (Well, a lot of things, anyway. I'm not at all interested in chocolate covered bacon. Or pickles. Ahem.) Needless to say, I've enjoyed a few ~~handfulls~~ myself.

So this afternoon, while doling out one of a few rounds of snacks, I plopped my little handful into a bowl that was sitting on the table. It looked clean, a few drops of water in the bottom, no problem. I'm eating away, enjoing my little treat until... uh.. hm. A soggy one. Wait, what's that? What I thought was water, was not. Nope.

Try pickle juice.

*shivers*

The view from here

2011-05-17T19:09:00.001-05:00

I am sitting here alone, in the quiet, nursing Huggyface who occasionally emits a grunt or two. It's nice, this unexpected solitude. I do not often get to spend a meal relaxing. No "mom I need a drink", no "I don't like that's", no spills, no yelling, no whining. Sweet sweet bliss is this. How does one achieve this? Well, live across the street from the park. That is my secret.

A sweet neighbor boy seemingly planted into the brains of my easily encouraged children that they should have a picnic. Only, he's eating at his house, but never mind. My monkeys are still so jazzed to have a picnic that they begged and begged and refused to wait, making the pbj sandwiches themselves before I had even said yes. Unrelenting as they were, I set out to finish making their meal, complete with some grapes, bottom of the barrel chips and some (half) bottles of pop. And off I sent them, to the park, while the baby slept, then woke and ate, and I... smile... I enjoyed the quiet. Ahhhhh....

So this....

This view... that's how I spent my evening. They're all in there somewhere (George far to the right, Boots on the merry-go-round, girls to the left). They're having a blast, frolicking about and enjoying this gorgeous day where the temp topped out near 70 and the sun shined gloriously all day, and I'm happily monitoring them from a nice comfy chair. Hey, I was outside all day with them. And now mama gets a rest. :D

Note to self

2011-05-17T17:12:00.000-05:00

After reading thru my last blog post, it seems a bit cuttingly sarcastic, moreso than possibly intended. It's still kinda funny though. But I think next time I'll not write while in the midst of "marital bliss". And by that I don't mean bliss at all. It's not code for making monkeys. It's what I sarcastically call spousal disagreements that may or may not last 2 days without speaking to one another (which, btw, isn't hard when one of the parties involved is on the road for work and sleeping during my waking hours. So it's not as bad as it seems. lol). ahem.

So, funny things kids say lately. Just cuz I have a few.

Boots' new favorite thing to say when he's mad is "I don't like dad." I'm not quite sure why he picks dad, who is probably his favorite person on the universe. But it's funny. And anything you say to him has that answer (unless you say the word candy, but I even tried it with ice cream and got the same). Do you want a sandwich? No, I don't like dad. Wanna go to the park? No, I don't like dad.

Funny kid. He's trying out lots of new words and frases.

Cheeks was bawling her head off the other night as she was getting into bed. I asked her what was wrong and she says, totally out of the blue, "I miss Schweetheart." Aw. Me too, girl. sigh.

Ok, gotta go. Huggyface is freaking out and having an actual tantrum that I'm not holding him. Yeah, tantrum. Kid throws his arms in the air and balls his fists and is clearly mad about whatever situation. Usually one involving me not holding him.

Ciao!

Reasons to become a parent

2011-05-05T16:32:00.003-05:00

This is from Monday, and so it wasn't even Mother's Day yet.
She did this all on her own at home while I was gone.

Love my girl. She can be sweet and thoughtful. Makes a mama-heart proud.

And dontcha just love how Kinders/early learners spell?

Which reminds me. I never showed you a "love" letter I got from George. *snort*
I'll have to find that one. It'll make ya laugh. Or, at least it did me.

"Feeling Overwhelmed?"... You think?

2011-05-05T11:21:00.003-05:00

**Warning: Sarcasm laden and snarky attitude can be found prolifically in this post.

I am on a mailing list for Oprah's email newletter. I usually don't read them. (Sorry, Oprah). Mostly, I just don't have time to read every blasted thing that I stupidly signed up for, and often times it just doesn't fit for my life.

Today, I was caught by the headline and suckered in. "Feeling Overwhelmed? Ask Yourself These 12 Questions." Please notice, it did not say "What to do if you feel overwhelmed." Thing is, I already know I'm overwhelmed. Helloooooo! I have five children age 7 and under. I'm the very definition of overwhelmed. (and I'd like to blame it on my husband. This is all his fault. He did this to me. I had no part in it. Ok, I had some part in it. But it's easier just to blame him today. grin. And he never reads my blog, he's so supportive that way, so he'll never know. smirk.)

Where was I? Oh yeah. Oprah.

I read the article, and while most of it was totally not helpful, and didn't really pertain to me as a SAHM, I did like this quote:

Being busy or not busy is an interpretation of our activity. Busy-ness is a state of mind, not a fact. No matter how much or how little we're doing, we're always just doing what we're doing, simply living this one moment of our lives. –Norman Fischer*

Which is basically to say, that my feeling of being overwhelmed is all in my head. :P Yeah, I guess. It's a state of mind. What happens when you're losing yours? (And if you can answer that, please contact me. Thanks!)

So I get to the end of the article, and there are some suggestions on related articlesyou may like. Aw, thanks for the suggestions, Oprah. Cuz this one spoke to me: Five Ways To Get A Life. Gee thanks. (Please note the dripping snark and sarcasm here. And yet, there's truth to that need. sigh)

I got to this section and just about died laughing.

Avoid multitasking. Recent studies show that it can take the brain twice as long to process each thing it's working on when switching back and forth between activities. By learning to focus fully on one project at a time, you can regain the extra hour or two you crave. Just don't squander it on mundane chores!**

Really? Hello? I'm 1. a woman, and 2. a mom. Multitasking is my life. However, this may explain why my brain isn't functioning properly, why I "think" I'm busy and overwhelmed, and why nothing ever gets finished, and why everything I do takes so stinking long. Of coarse it has NOTHING to do with 5 small children and a demanding spouse constantly interrupting me. Bwahahaha! Granted, multitasking is the reason I have burnt at least one piece of toast daily for the last 2 years. Getting a new toaster could help, but nevermind that. There's also the issue of that forgotten load of laundry that makes it's presence (still in the washing machine) known by the unsavory odor that fills the laundry room and kitchen. Because, see, if I just focused on getting that one load of laundry done, and just had the all other tasks wait (I mean, who needs to eat, and baby can sit in a poopy diaper for another hour and a half, right?) then that wouldn't happen.

The last line in that quote also killed me. Mundane chores. My life is filled with mundane chores. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be a mom and know I'm "priviledged" (not that it usually feels like it) to be able to stay home with my monkeys, but there's not a lot exciting about vacuuming, dishes, laundry, sweeping and picking up toys. So apparently, my life is squandered. Who knew?

And I'm REALLY interested in gaining back those one or two hours I crave that were lost by multitasking. Serious. I REALY am. I'd probably have to use them to do more mundane chores, though.

Now, to end that article on a very nice note, one of the last tips was this:

Break the habit of total self-reliance. Insisting on doing everything yourself burdens you and prevents others from feeling valuable and needed. Delegate more at home and at work, and free your time for things you love and excel at.**

Bwaaahhaaahhaaa... hahaaaahhaaaaahaha.... gasp gasp hahaha ahhahahahahaha ahhaha O gosh, help me Rhonda. hahahahahahahah

Sorry. Just give me a moment to compose myself here.

BWWAHHHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHa

Ok. Deep breath. I think I'm done... oh wait. hahaha... Ok. phew. Now. What was I saying?

I can pretty much guarantee you that King Kong in no. way. whatsofreeking ever feels prevented from feeling valuable and needed by my lack of, ahem, "delegating" my "mundane tasks." And that I insist that I do it all myself? haha. Yeah, right. I'm sure the new "Honey Do" list is going to be so. well. recieved. when he gets home, so that I can free up my time to read a magazine, take a nap, do my nails, or join a knitting circle. (You know, things I love and excel at. What are those again? Wait.. Who am I?)

Clearly, this article was not written for SAHmoms of many monkeys with Alpha Male spouses who would rather die than do a load of dishes. I feel I've won a war when he puts his own stinking laundry in the hamper (and not next to it). Apparently I didn't win the lottery of "husbands who are uber helpful." Tis life. I got over it a long time ago. (Or at least that's what I pretend.) But he goes to work, keeps food on the table, loves his kids with all his heart, changes the oil in my van at least once every couple years, has great home improvement skills and can figure out what he doesn't know by watching YouTube vids, and can paint the straightest line you've ever seen in your life freehanded - very helpful when painting corners next to the ceiling. So, it's not all bad.

All quotes, used without permission, can be found here:

*http://www.oprah.com/spirit/What-to-Do-When-You-Are-Overwhelmed

**http://www.oprah.com/spirit/5-Ways-to-Get-a-Life

Hubba hubba

2011-04-10T23:52:00.000-05:00

Sexy man.

Sexy man falls over.

*I kinda missed the first shot. He had the cutest little grin, one knee was up, ankles kind of crossed, propped up on one arm. It was really cute. But these are still cute.

2011-04-10T23:46:00.000-05:00

I wrote some down today. The Cheek-isms.

On our way to church, in the car:

"I've got a big snort on me." (post snort)

During church (she did not want to go to the nursery and so she sat in service with me. I gave her a pen and paper to help keep her occupied, and we were practising her name, me trying to help her correctly write her letters):

"That's how you make a flat 'b'."

A "flat" 'b', huh?

During the car ride home from church (just out of the blue):

"Mommy, what the heck is a naught word?"

To which I replied, after defining what a naughty word is, "It's when you say words like damn and frickin. Those are words that don't sound nice coming out of a little girl's mouth." Words she has used in public. Once, but it was bad timing. sigh. (I know, I know. WHo's to blame? Yeah, me. :P )

Freak

2011-04-09T17:34:00.001-05:00

My four year old is great at saying stuff that is normal, but coming out of her mouth, the way she says it, the timing, it's just so darned funny. Often times she gets mad that we're laughing at her. We're not. She just doesn't understand that she's funny.

Cheeks just came inside and said to me, "I am so. freaked. out." "By what?" I ask. "Those dad's at the park, and I don't want to go by them."* "OK, then just ride your bike."

If only I could explain somehow or find the words that would adequately describe her inflection, but I can't. It's just one of those things you have to hear in person.

I am so. freaked. out.

Where DO they get this stuff? lol

*She is very skiddish around men. Koko was this way too for a long time. Exceptions are dad, grandpas and uncles, but at the same time, she can be won over fairly easily, as I recently witnessed at the doctors office.

If you met me

2011-04-08T21:45:00.001-05:00

Have you ever heard of this little thing called 5 Minute Friday? Gypsy Mama's taken it on and today, at this moment, I feel like taking the bait.

Here's the scoop:
Got five minutes? Let’s write. Let’s write in shades of real and true and unscripted. Let’s just write and not worry if it’s just right or not. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word. Then link it back up @ The Gypsy Mama.

Ok. Here goes. Ready, set... ... GO

If you met me...

I'd wonder if you'd noticed my crazy finger nail polish today. And if you thought it looks like a Stripper's nails, too. Or that only one hand was painted. And that my pinkie was slighty more greenish.

I'd wonder if you thought I looked the the hurricane I feel like when I walk into a room.

You'd probably ask how many children I have, then gasp when I told you the number, and ask me "How do you do it?"

You'd see a pony tail. And jeans. A girl not too trendy. (A girl who thinks she's too fat to really be trendy.)

You'd find yourself plagued with questions from someone who wants to know more about you. Sometimes I call it nosy. Sometimes I just say that I'm curious. Where you're from, kids/no kids, job, why are you here, do you like lemons, who's your hairdresser. The norm. Really, I do just want to know more about you.

I might be distracted by my children. Or, I might be letting them run asunder so that I could have a conversation that didn't include listening to whining (I hope).

You might sense my need to have adult contact.

Oops. 8 Minutes. Sue me.

I guess that's it. Bummer. I'm trying to procrastinate cleaning my house just a bit longer. Ho hum. Laundry here I come.

Subject

2011-04-02T10:55:00.000-05:00

Mom, mom. Take a picture of me.

Okay.

Silly.

**Please note: I'm not that bad at focusing. My lens, combined with low light/large aperature/shallow DOF and a dancing diva equals sometimes blurry subject. Still cute shots, imho.

Snapshots

2011-03-24T22:52:00.001-05:00

A way to preserve time. Don't you wish there were times you could do that? A snapshot, an actual photograph, is really the only way we can, except in our memory. And if your memory is anything like mine? Well, that's not really that reliable.

I'm really bad at seeing these moments, the funny ones, the endearing ones, where you wish you could just capture time and keep it for a little while longer, and then pull it up any time you want, later. I'm usually hurrying through it, or trying to get them to be quiet, pick up toys, stop fighting.

Tonight I did, though. It's like a snapshot in my mind. A sweet glimpse of my kids just being.

Sugarland was performing "Stuck Like Glue" on American Idol. We've somehow managed to watch a little more regularly this season and so maybe the familiarity has been drawing their attention. I don't know. Either way, they were all gathered around the TV, or at least in the living room. But when this song came on, they all sat watching, then each one started doing their own little be-bop. Boots, in just a diaper, did a funky little dance that only a 2 yr old could do, arms out to the side, kicking up his feet in such a way that you want to say it doesn't go but then you see how he really IS following the beat. Cheeks, dressed as Snow White, twirled of coarse. Koko sat on the floor dressed as Juliet (of Romeo fame), bobbed her head and shook her shoulders a bit, intently watching, taking notes. George swayed his hips, tapped his foot maybe, too, as he sported his skeleton tshirt and Spiderman boxers. (Very Tom Cruise, imo. All he needed was a little floor slide. :D)

And I just took notice. Watching. Quiet.

Does it get any better than this?

Family Fun

2011-03-20T16:53:00.000-05:00

We have had lots of occasions, this winter, to do crafts and indoor activities, given all the snow we've had, some record setting 80 odd inches of it. The only problem is... I'm not really that good about doing them. I did happen to see this one in the February issue of Family Fun magazine and thought it looked like a good one. There's not too much for the kiddos to actually do, but the eating is fun. And dousing the treats with sprinkles - who doesn't love that?!?!.

(Oh wait. *I* don't. But nevermind. We did it anyway and nobody died. Yaaaaay!.)

While this is an activity that is not so much an activity as an opportunity to eat, it's a good way to get rid of any leftover candy canes you may have. And aren't those ~~cavity-ridden~~ smiles cute? Just don't tell our dentist. He's already convinced I'm a bad parent. (And if you didn't already notice Koko's gorgeous mouth bling, then just keep on not noticing and pretent I never pointed it out to you. mkay? Thanks.)

Oh, and I totally did NOT do this for Valentine's Day. I would have to be way more organized for that. It was some weeks after V-day that this occurred. *grimmace*

Bling

2011-03-19T18:49:00.001-05:00

Someone had a birthday and got some special treatment for her gift.

A little shopping trip with mom, a date with mom and dad - alone, primping at the beauty parlor, and a little bling, to make her sparkle just a little bit more.

Wait.

Did you see that? I hope you didn't miss it.

Lemme zoom in a little closer.

Yep. That's right. Girlfriend got her ears pierced. So fancy. (And man, do they push the REAL gold earrings. Yes, that's real 14K gold. Because heaven forbid there's a chance that you have an allergic reaction to the stainless steel posts. Whatever. We'll do it for our kids in a heartbeat, won't we?) We decided early on that we would wait until she asked, that then she'd be ready. Well, she'd been asking, though we've been talking about it on and off for a year, and now she was naming names of all the girls at school who had them pierced. They totally suite her and she looks like she's had them forever.

Koko was very brave, albeit a tad nervous - nevermind the ear piercing technician talking about getting shots right before hand - and though she almost cried, she held out strong. We did warn her that it would hurt, but that it would be fast, done before she knew it. We also hung around the mall for an hour waiting for the extra person to get back from her very long lunch break so they could be done both ears at once. Wouldn't want to get stuck with a scared child and one ear pierced, now would we? Plus, it gave us time to honor the Dairy Queen. Huggyface too, in his own way. teehee.

We've (I) done a pretty good job remembering to clean them twice a day (dang, which reminds me we/I forgot tonight).

Oh, and the funniest thing about the whole event....

We were at the mall and Koko says, "Mom, now I won't roll over in bed anymore." (assuming she means this so she won't touch or hurt her ears.)

LOL. Ok sweetheart. Too funny, the things they think of.

Spring schming

2011-03-18T16:05:00.001-05:00

Boo to all you naysayers of snow, with your complaining ways and endless wailing. How dare you whine about such clean pure beauty, that which makes the world all sparkly and new. Those bitter temperatures can be a bit unfriendly, but they push us to cuddle, to nest, to make home glow.

This, this, my friends, is my nemesis, oh early spring. How unfriendly you are with your drudgery, your mud, the death of white socks. How you bring trama to my laundry room, my entry way, my drive way.

Your puddles and flooding, though fleeting, are pure torture to me. The ruts I must climb, day in and day out, as I am forced to leave the safety of my now muddied abode. You have destroyed the clear view, as the fortress melts, exposing layer after layer of sand on snow.

Please hurry. Please go, so that daffodils and dandelions can inhabit once again. I will be so happy when you're gone.

Who knew!

2011-03-17T10:43:00.001-05:00

I just found out that my children are part Irish. Makes today so much more fun. I mean, my name might be Kelly, but they don't get it from me. All German and Norwegian here (3/4 and 1/4, respectively). They are also more Norwegian than I, which I think is funny. Apparently the Kong is 1/4 Eskimo, 1/4 Norwegian, and the rest Irish, French and Swedish.

Upon learning this I thought, ha, wouldn't it be funny to get the man a shirt that says "Kiss Me I'm Irish." I even laughed out loud. I have a pretty lame/cheesy sense of humor sometimes. (In case you don't know, he doesn't look anything much but Eskimo. So, you know, that's.. funny. :D OK. Maybe just to me.)

Koko is ALL in the spirit. She even picked out what she wanted to wear to school today, yesterday. We had to make some ammendments, however, since the green shorts she picked out didn't really go with the 40 degree temperatures outside, nor the not-the-same-green sweater she picked out. teehee. She even picked out green unders. And giggled. I giggled too. :D And this morn we fixed her up in pigtails with green ribbons. So festive!!! lol

I may have to find some green beer to drink. I'm trying to come up with green things my kids would actually eat. Broccoli is about the only thing I can think of. Some of them are pretty picky, so just adding food coloring is not really the ticket. Green pancakes maybe? I think I could pull that one off.

We don't really have a history of getting too festive, but sometimes it's fun (read, manageable). Even just on the fly.

I'll leave you with a few lame-o giggle worthy jokes.

What's Irish and outside all summer?

Paddy O'furniture.

What does a leprachaun call a happy man wearing green?

The Jolly Green Giant. (side note - the big green man lives not too far from us.)

What does an Irishman get after eating Italian food?

Gaelic breath.

Knock knock

Who's there?

Irish.

Irish who?

Irish you a Happy Saint Patrick's Day!

And, finally, my favorite Irish thing:

May the Road rise up to meet you

May the Wind be always at your back

May the Sun shine warm upon your face

The rain fall soft upon your fields

And untill we meet again

May God hold you in the palm of hus hand.

~Irish blessing, author unknown

And the race is on.

2011-03-16T22:42:00.001-05:00

George is a Tiger Cub Boy Scout this year. As you may know, the big event is the Pine Wood Car Derby.

I learned a lot about my husband during this time. *shakes head* See, he's one of those competitive people. If you can't tell by my tone, I'm not. He always has to have the best, the fastest, the coolest looking whatever. I gave him strict instructions that George was to do most of the work. *shakes head*

But when asked what he wanted, the boy said he wanted a trophy. So that's what we were going for. We live in a small community and it's not the hot event it is in some places, but it's meant for fun, and that's what we had.

Exhibit one: The car.

Kong did his usual research and study online, looking at pictures of winners, watching videos, finding the best way to craft the vehicle to make it a winner. Hence, the shape.

At the race, we did great. Unfortunately, Kong did not take off work to be there, so he called to ~~grill me~~ check in on how the process was going. "Did he get checked in? Did they have to adjust the weight? What are the tracks like? Does it have an electronic meter? What are the other cars like?" And so on and so forth. Most of the questions I couldn't answer. I dunno. I'm just the mom. What do I care? I just want my boy to have fun. And guess what? He WON!

He got second place (That's winning to me.) in his age category. He got his trophy and he was happy. The winner car won by hair so I think we did pretty good for our first year out. There were some pretty funny cars there, and the winner of Best Design, as chosen by the town cop was the Shark. Haha. Go figure. The yellow guys tail kept flying off, and the green bullet one was surprisingly fast.

Daddy was convinced they ran the race wrong. *shakes head* There's an open invitational derby in a nearby town which just happenes to fall on a day/time when Kong is not working. I am pretty sure they will be attending, based on how Kong's eyes lit up when I told him about it. *shaking head* ~~Boys.~~ Men.

Email

2011-03-14T13:18:00.003-05:00

I got this email yesterday, and I wrote a response. At the end of it, I decided I wanted to share it, preserve my own thoughts, and make a blog post out of it. Rather than rework it, I'll just leave it as is, a copy of that email/response.

Hello fellow mom friends,

I'm feeling the need to bounce ideas/thoughts and questions out there for feedback from you guys. I really don't make a point to seek this out enough as a mom. But I really value any of your thoughts, opinions, advice or whatever God has taught you in these areas as moms who love Jesus and their kids.

I struggle with the line between doing what's best for my children (fulfilling their needs and sometimes wants), and doing what I would prefer simply because I might actually "go nuts" if I don't. For example, yesterday was usually a day when I would bring Child ABC and DEF to the ball-pit at the Y after ABC got out of preschool. I decided, however, that I'm sick of being at the Y (I go there everyday) and I just needed to do something different. I had errands I wanted to run at some point at the mall anyway, so when I picked up ABC from preschool at the Y, I told him the plan. Well, he threw a fit and cried and cried. I stood my ground, but felt that I should have prepped him for this before preschool. However, I made that decision while he was at preschool. Sometimes that's just how life goes, and I know he needs to deal with those upsets, but I still felt some guilt over it all. At the same time, I was also annoyed over his crying and whining about it. It's like nails on a chalkboard for me. Then things didn't go well at B&N at the mall, and I just wanted to escape and read a book. This is probably a typical day for most of you with young ones. :) Well--the whining whenever they don't get their way is really getting to me. And I think I need to be better about getting more sleep....I'm sure that would help me handle everything better as well. :O

I want to be a mom that is strong in what I need to be strong in, and lax when I need to just let certain things go that aren't as important. Being in charge doesn't come naturally for me, so I need to work hard at it. I know it sounds like I'm not enjoying being a mom, but I do enjoy it--this afternoon was just one of those times. Most importantly, I want my kids to know and sense that I enjoy them, and that my enjoyment of them is not tied to their behaviors.

How do you live out what's best for your children without neglecting yourself? I know, I know--I can hear you all saying--"neglecting yourself is not best for your children." But what is this supposed to look like? So does that mean I should pray & ask God how I should live that out for them, trusting that He'll provide the rest and sanity that I need to keep going? Or do I need to "secure that outcome" of rest myself, and carve it into my schedule?

How do you avoid letting the little things get to you, (like repeated whining, spilled milk - again, or fill in the blank with whatever gets on your nerves the most), and instead, remember the "big picture" and the joy and privilege of parenting?

How do you have more grace for yourself and your kids? I want our home to be full of His grace.

I may be able to answer the above questions with "the right" answers, but I really appreciate hearing others' feedback. Also, I'm looking for what you as a mom do or have done in these situations, hence the emphasis on "you". Practicality is very valuable to me.

I know we're all busy--so I don't expect everyone to reply. But if you feel so inclined to reply--I would appreciate it--doesn't need to be lengthy. I certainly don't expect every question answered from each person--just whatever comes to your mind. And feel free to "reply all" if this is something you'd like see others' feedback for yourself.

Thanks,
A+ Mom

My response:

Hi guys. I would be interested in hearing all your answers too, if you all are open to that.

Great questions, A+ Mom. And like you said, we probably do know the "right" answers, but hearing from other moms helps us to not feel so alone in these struggles, and that alone is encouraging.

Feel free to cc me.

:D Thanks!

I would say for me, in regards to "me" time, I don't pray about it, I just carve it in (which means, I don't feel guilty about paying a babysitter so I can go to bible study. That's my "me" time. Which equals about $50 a paycheck. That's a lot of "me" money for a single income family of 7, imo.) And even if it isn't a set time, you need to be intentional about making it happen, and not letting it get pushed aside as not that important. It is. It makes a world of difference. Even Jesus took "me" time, right? :D I probably should pray about it, but that's one area I'm still working on - giving God my life - schedule, attitudes, etc. I know for me, when I start to get irritated or angry, it snowballs. So the spilled milk then becomes an over the top experience. Much worse that just purely spilled milk. I know it helps if I pray for the day, but since that doesn't happen as often as I'd like, just making the effort to be calm helps. And sometimes it still escalates, but not usually as ferociously. I get irritated by anything that causes more work for me (like picking up toys... I know! ;D).

Whining is a KILLER! And my resentment of the child who whines pushes me away from her. Something i REALLY don't want. How to deal with whining/crying, idk. I'm still working on that one. I try reasoning with them, getting mad, redirection. Then I send them to their bed. I should send them to their bed earlier. Sometimes they just need their own down time, their own opportunity to regroup and change their attitude. (Child XYZ will stay there stewing for HOURS.) Jesus needed down time, I need down time, why wouldn't they? I try not to make it all better and give in when they whine. I feel that just teaches them that whining works. But I also address it, and try to empathize, find out why they're upset, explain. I have to remind myself that I am being selfish with my time by being irritated, and I have to remind my self also, that caring for them is worship. That I am serving unto God himself. That I need to keep loving them anyway. Yes, I need remind myself to love my children. :D Transparency. sigh.

(I also just read these two blog posts last night. I think you'll enjoy them. If nothing, the music is soul soothing. I'll excerpt the parts that spoke to me. Thank You, Ann Voskamp.)

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/03/what-happy-homemakers-know/

And after years of happy homemaking — and thwarted homemaking (oh, but didn’t I just put this away?!) — the realization comes like a curtain opening up to sweeping vistas, opening to the place where all the happiest live. (Why had I never known?)

Homemaking is about making a home

**— and a home is a safe place, a refuge, a place to be real and alive and truest true.

Homemaking is not about making perfection.

I laugh, emancipated: A perfect home may not at all be a neat as a pin home.

Perfect does not equate to immaculate.

The two do not match, compute, correspond. (Ah, the simple wonder of it!)

A perfect home is an authentic, creative, animated space where Peace and Love and Beauty are embraced.

And when my mama walks into all this YES!, her eyes wide and her smile long, I nod my epiphany:

Saying Yes will mean a mess.

And the mess may be perfect.

For creativity and discovery is a work of courage — and we forge a trail and leave a wake of mistakes and this part of what it is to be perfectly human.

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/03/when-the-grind-of-it-all-makes-it-hard-to-serve/

The mudroom sink is grime ringed. Fingerprints smear across the mirror. And I laugh the happiest wonder.

In an afternoon’s drizzle, I give happy thanks for the daily mess with a smile a mile wide, because this is again my chance to wholeheartedly serve God, to do full-bodied eucharisteo with the hands and the heart and the lips.

I can count each task a gift, pure eucharisteo. Grace!

This work—the thousand endless jobs—they each give the opportunity for one to become the gift, a thousand times over!

Because with every one of the thousand, endless jobs, I become the gift to God and to others, because this work is the public God serving, the daily liturgy of thanks, the completing of the Communion service with my service.

I also struggle with unrealistic expectations of my kids - expecting them to have adult-sized emotions and reasoning skills. Yeah, that's not really working for me. It's a process of learning for all of us, adult and child alike. I don't think that you should feel bad about changing plans, and ABC needs to learn how to adapt as life will bring lots of sudden change of plans and he'll have to learn how to roll with it. Best you can do is say that we have other things to do to day, you're sorry we won't go there today, but we will another day. When I employ the empathy tactic of Love and Logic, I find it usually works. I just don't always use it. Basically, your empathy says to them that you value their feelings, you understand that they might be upset and you feel bad too. (even if you don't really mean it in the flesh at the moment, it still works. It's all about tone.)

I think strength comes in knowing your place (as mom), your role, and what you want to be like, what you want to teach them, what atmosphere you want in your home. I think, when you know those things, when you sort of write it all out, then it's easier to implement and not feel guilty. You don't feel guilty about not giving in because you know that by giving in you would teach them they can always have their way, but being strong in who you are as their mother and being firm about an issue, you are teaching them about authority, submission, discipline, love in boundaries and life. You are teaching them how to respond or deal with life's unfairness. (Not that it's all doom and gloom, but you know what I mean.) About attitude.

Right now I'm in the mode of seeing all my flesh, of knowing all the ways I'm not a good model for my children, and seeing them reflected back to me in the less than glamorous words and actions and attutudes of my children. BUT... I know that God has a purpose in that... to refine me and make me better. So while it feels a bit like being down on myself a lot, it also is a true glimpse of how God feels when I speak harsh word or whatever to my lovely little beings, how my actions are not of love. And that reflection is good for change.

<3 Mrs. Bananas

Wonderland

2011-03-13T18:10:00.001-05:00

The mind of a child is one of the most amazing things. The best part? Their imagination. And given any sort of time at all, they'll make quick use of it. It's why they're never bored.

Lately here the temperatures have been warming a bit, making things wonderfully slushy and muddy. Though it's been forcasted to get even more snow ~~than we thought possible~~, we haven't, and the kids are itching to get outside. Today, while my little sick boy Boots had perked up a bit due to the effects of a little motrin (I heart motrin.) even he donned his boots and jacket and took a spin outdoors. I couldn't stop him. (Read: I was otherwise detained as the Dairy Queen.) Couldn't be left out of the fun, could he?

At lunchtime, the kids were telling me all about George* Wonderland. It's their very own place (right next to the city building. hah) where they have a pine cone collection, a snow couch, an ice skating rink (probably a patch of ice), an Army base tree with a pull up bar and a low branch to swing on.

One of the girls made the comment, "Our paradise is George Wonderland."

Sounds amazing, doesn't it? I know you want to go there, too.

*He used his real name, not George.

Who's got the camera?

2011-03-11T18:31:00.001-06:00

My guess? Boots. George went through this phase too, where I'd see the flash going off in random parts of the house, or I'd upload photos only to find he'd taken 37 shots of the tv. While George prefered the stairway, Boots gravitates toward the closet. Last time I caught him, I deleted 95 pictures off my camera. No, I'm not exagerating. I counted. Most of them I deleted but here are a couple shots I liked. Mostly because they were not of the ceiling, a dark, messy closet, or fingers.

This picture was one we were aware of - he wanted the camera, we gave it to him. Boots doesn't look at what he's shootimg. He just likes the click and the flash, so Kong helped him out by trying to get in the shot.

This one is just luck.

Golly, I love that little face.

I'm gonna git you, sucka!

2011-02-24T21:38:00.000-06:00

We had a mouse. Yes, one mouse.

It was like Mrs. Frisby and the freakin' rats of Nihm, this mouse.

We're not really sure how Mr. Mouse got in. In all the years we've lived here (8), and even when it was abandoned, there has never been a mouse problem. (Give thanks to really high basement walls. Hallelu!) Until this year. We had one in spring. Killed it. No prob. Got another one some time this winter, and the thing just wouldn't. die.

It liked butter, this new mouse. Liked to leave tiny little paws prints in my butter. It would lick knives that had been left on the counter with a residue of butter. Or sometimes peanut butter. But not bread. Not crackers. Not any of the millions of different types of crumbs we have littering our floor. No. This mouse had special tastes. And special skills.

I discovered this mouse fairly recently, when I noticed mouse droppings amongst my pot holders and oven mitts. Really? Ooh. Gross! Apparently it makes for a cozy bed, this drawer. And I also noticed the paw marks in my butter. So I got out the trap. I had one snap trap left from Mr. Spring Mouse. The plastic kind of snap trap. Killed that mouse just fine. But, Oh No. Not this mouse. This mouse.. *shakes head*

This mouse

licked

clean.

And I do mean clean.

I would put peanut butter. I would put butter. I would put peanut butter mixed with butter. I would fill up that little well in the middle, and the sucker would just taunt me, licking it clean every. single. time.

A friend suggested sticky traps. So I got sticky traps. But they contain no butter. So why in all that is holy would the darned mouse walk on one of those things? I noticed that, again, like the other mouse, it liked to frolic in our dirty laundry baskets, leaving evidence of it's presence.

Again. Gross.

At least it was dirty laundry.

I caught that other mouse trying to sneak into the laundry basket, but this mouse didn't fall for that trap. (haha. get it? trap? hehe. Ok, moving on.) My boys managed to stick a foot in and drag that crap all over. The mouse? He just kept on truckin'. I did find evidence of mouse on one of the sticky traps I left out. A little tuft of fur. I just shook my head.

Then I saw Mr. Mouse. He had big cute ears. I came into the kitchen one night and was surprised to see him scamper across the back splash to behind the microwave, and then disappeared from there. This then became a regular occurrence. One night, as I was walking the baby, I came into the kitchen slowly. Mr Mouse had really started to develop some cojones and was coming out with the lights on! We had ourselves a little stare down, that evening. Me standing in the doorway. He standing next to the toaster. And we just stared at each other. After a while, I went to get the camera. He kept meandering the counter top. I came back. He looked around, and slowly went back into hiding. This is just making me mad, now. In looking at this lame-O plastic trap, I see that the reservoir where you put the "treat" is not where the trap is activated. No, the mouse has to lean waaaaay into the trap, not stepping on the lever, and lick it clean that way. So I set the trap wiping the butter on the "trigger", so to speak. Nope. My mouse is too dang smart for that. Still licked it clean. Kong says, "get some old fashioned wood traps." So we did. I just about snapped my fingers off trying to set one. The package says "No bait needed." I'm sorry, but a flat piece of plastic cut out in the shape of cheese is NOT GOING TO GET MY MOUSE. Do these people think my mouse is dumb? Apparently. News flash: he's NOT. He licked the plastic trap clean, and the wooden one half clean. Must have been feeling a little cautious that day.

Last night, as we were preparing for bed, I asked Kong if he wanted to set the trap. Sure, he says. But... hahaha. He busted out his Tim the Tool Man Taylor vibe and did a little "augmentation" of said trap in hopes of making it more sensitive. In fact, he almost altered it a little too well because he then had a hard time setting it.

Fast forward to 3AM when I had to make a trip to the bathroom. Of coarse, curiosity ~~killed the cat~~ ~~the mouse~~ got the better of me and I turned on the light to check. Yep. WE WON! Victory! Big fat furry body littering my counter. That poor mouse couldn't have so much as breathed on that trap and WHAM-O! Right on the schnoz. He didn't have a chaaance. Not even one little lick.

Ha ha! That outta teach ya. Don't mess with the Monkey's. We're gonna git you, sucka!

Kong did his own inspection this morning, pleased for his, erm, hunting and gathering skills. *snort* He also collected the specimen by putting it in a plastic grocery bag and chucking it on the front steps. I couldn't just leave it there, though. The kids had to see it. They were all very interested, and spent a good chunk of time inspecting it, "but no touching. Dead things carry germs," Koko informs us. (Good girl!) Cheeks woke up later, and also checked it out, but was much less interested. After about 30 seconds she said, "Ok, now get that dead thing outta here."

Haha. Ok, dear. Will do with gladness.

Crumb-Topped Cocoa Banana Bread

2011-02-21T11:38:00.001-06:00

I promise you won't be disappointed. This bread is so delicious. It's the only banana bread I make. Once you've had it, regular banana bread seems so... boring, plain, bland. I don't even put butter on it when I eat it, it's that good. I have no idea where I found the recipe so ~~sorry to you who I may be copying. It's unintentional~~. Apparently it's a common recipe. Who knew?

Crumb Topped Cocoa Banana Bread. Or simply, Chocolate Banana Bread.

1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/3 cup sugar
6 Tbsp cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ginger
2 eggs
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 extra ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 cup)

Crumb Topping
3 Tbsp flour
2 Tbsp sugar
1 Tbsp soft butter
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp cinnamon

Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease bottom only of a 9x5x3" loaf pan.
In a large bowl, stir together flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and ginger. Add eggs, oil and banana, and stir with a spoon just until all ingredients are blended. Spoon batter into the greased pan. Batter will be kind of thick.
Prepare crumb topping by mixing with a fork in a small bowl until fine crumbs form. Sprinkle topping evenly over the top of the bread batter.
Bake 55-60 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Make sure you do this.
Cool 10 minutes, then loosen loaf from pan and remove. Place on a wire rack to cool. Store in refrigerator, if it lasts that long.

Note: The recipe, and the 5 million other identical recipes I found online when trying to correct the mistake, all omitted baking powder out of the ingredients list, but not the instructions. I just noticed this, apparently. So I have never made it with baking power. Maybe this is why it occasionally falls in the middle? I always attributed it to the topping or too much banana. To combat that, I would sprinkle my topping most heavily on the sides, and more lightly down the middle. I did nothing special to make the topping come down the sides, it just does that as it bakes and looks really nice.

Sorry it took so long to finally post this. I made it this morning (and I'm gonna go eat some RIGHT NOW!!) and thought hey, I'll post that. :D You're welcome.

Holy...

2011-02-17T15:55:00.001-06:00

Dear God in Heaven, child. Why must you keep on crying? I understand you could be not feeling well, or are teething, or hungry, or tired, never mind that I've given you medicine, teething tablets, tried to nap you and fed you till my teats fell off. Might I remind you I am also not feeling well, what with the body aches, violent cough and now stress incontinence. I really do appreciate your distress as I am feeling something of the same in having to carry you for yet another hour of this already very long (it seems) day. And while I know you love and need me, and I certainly love and want you, I also have my own needs, one of which includes PUTTING YOU DOWN.

I'm sorry if it breaks your heart for me to do this, and frankly, sometimes, with your pouty little lip and that oh so very sad it brings tears to my eyes cry you sometimes do, it breaks mine too, but do this I must. Because, you see, well, you need to learn to exist separately from me, be it only for 15 minutes a day. Some day you will thank me for that. Team sports and dating will be more enjoyable that way. Also, you need to learn to calm your bad self down, because really, those cries that sound like a screeching cat are really most unpleasant for the rest of us, and I will not always be there to thrust a boob in your face to make it all better. Plus, at some point in time you will get married, and your wife might disapprove of me still breastfeeding you.

So for the love of everything sacred and holy, find a thumb, a pretty spot on the wall, a corner of your blankie, or the underside of your eyelids - something besides me - to bring you peace and comfort. You're much to young to know that babies rule the house, and I must try and exert my power as woman of this household and ruler of all things mommy in this domain. So consider yourself informed, warned, schooled, whatever. Just... be QUIET! Because for the next 20 minutes, I will not be picking you up. Thank you.

Ok. You win. 10 minutes.

Or.. well, I could do five, I guess.

Tweet experiment

2011-02-11T13:02:00.001-06:00

I don't Tweet. I can't rationalize paying that much for cell service for more mindless chatter, or access to internet, something I'm addicted to anyway. Cuz really, do I need to be on Facebook anyMORE? Not really.

But I always think Tweets in my head. Or blog posts. Problem with thinking blog posts is that I never end up blogging those posts. It's like I put it out into the universe in my mind and poof! it's gone.

So here are all the exciting thoughts I have today, while sitting at my computer for the next half hour before we have to go to the doctor again for strep tests. Yay!.

11:58 Right now, in this minute, I'm hating paperwork. Because children do not seem to understand that their incessant whining and hovering and inconsolable crying does not help me do it faster. And I can't put it off any. longer. Okay, breathing...

12:03 Ahh... Warm tomato soup and grandpa's fresh baked bread smoothe it over.

12:08 Eating while baby-wearing is a challenging task. Much easier to drink soup. But, how do you do the soup-soaked bread?

12:13 You know how you are always tripping over that one cluttery thing, and then when you need that thing... NO WHERE to be found. sigh. #storyofmylife

12:25 Hey, let's make a blog post of all my mindless chatter. Yeah. Great idea. THat'll get everyone on the edge of their seat.

12:33 I really need to clean out my file cabinet. All this filing is a pain.

12:34 On second thought, let's just file later.

12:35 I need to buy a new coupon sorter thingy.

12:49 Lego - children under whatever age can't have an email. So duh to your "what is your child's email address" for your magazine of children under 6.

1:02 Ok, Time to go!

Riveting, wasn't it?

I can't help myself

2011-02-10T14:02:00.001-06:00

I know I call my kids monkeys, even outside of Blogland. You probably have called your children that too. It's a cute and fun and a fairly common moniker for children. Part of it is that they climb, as many kids do, everything. The world ~~my living room~~ is their ~~oyster~~ jungle gym. And to give credit where credit is due, a friend actually spurred the idea for this blog title with her calling my children monkeys, upon witnessing them ~~climb~~ scale her porch railing like it was a mountain. (They really do have a knack for it, though.) So there's other people calling them that. (Hey, I have another friend who calls them trolls. "Monkeys" seems a little cuter? Friendlier? Less evil, Dontcha think?)

Of coarse I tried to give our Monkeys monikers in relation to their actual personalities. So, George, he's curious, Koko is verbal, Cheeks has big cheeks, Boots did/does have a thing for shoes, Kong is the alpha male ruler of our household, nevermind his barrel chested handsomeness. And I, well, I'm bananas, clearly. If having five children doesn't qualify, I don't know what does.

But I have a secret.

I'm more monkey than I might readily appear.

Cuz think of what other things monkeys like to do. We've all been to the zoo. People make cracks about it.

Yes. I admit. I like to "pick" on my children. I love to clean ear wax out of those great caverns of dirt so deep you could plant a garden, I can't help myself in grabbing at that big greenie hanging out of one's nose (because really? who wants to look at that? It's distracting.), I've been known to be drawn to squeezing that blackhead on a certain somekong's face, and... now this.

Do you see what I see? Let's see if I can zoom in for a closer look.

See that? Skin. Dead, flaky skin. All I really have to do is brush his hair with that super soft baby-hair brush and viola! Up comes all that scaly, flaky fun. It's like peeling a sunburn. It doesn't hurt him, and once you start, you can't stop til it's all gone.

Admit it. You like to peel sunburn too. I know I'm not alone in this.

It's just like monkeys grooming, or eating bugs off eachother, or whatever it is they're doing. It's all love, baby. All love.

And besides, isn't it my job as a mom?

Yes, you can be officially grossed out.

And to add...

2011-02-08T20:40:00.001-06:00

to the last post...

Boots ran aroumd smelling like Goo Gone today as that is exactly what I had used to ~~douse~~ clean his sweatshirt of my waterproof mascara. I wonder how many washes it will take to get the smell of that out.

And a comment on the pic of Cheeks. See how her tongue is pointed? That is a strange side effect of her finger sucking, and it gives her this little lisp that is so cute and funny. Especially when it pokes out when she talks. I'm sure, however, there will be a speech therapist in her future.

ok. that's all i thinki. oh, 'cept if anyone has a voice recognition softwate they'd like to loan me that'd be great. my arm is about to fall off from one-handed typing while nursing.

done

Bits - o - nothin'

2011-02-08T14:47:00.003-06:00

Just rambling.

I made Honey Butter today. So yummy. I just want to sit around eating buttered bread all day. I don't think that's a good idea. For many reasons.

These guys like having their picture taken.

Cheese, mommy, cheese? Mommy. Mommy. Cheese?

Ok. Cheese.

Huggyface didn't poop for 3 1/2 days. I know, you really wanted to know that. There is a point. Breastfed babies don't get constipated, especially not at 10 weeks, so it's a little abnormal, and on my mind. I was discussing this fact with some ladies (because he ended the BM strike during a prayer session we were having. Gotta love timing.) and one older mom (her kids have kids) said, "Great job, mama!" I was kind of taken aback by that, so I asked why. She said that that meant my milk was perfect for him and he has no waste. She said that when some other person I don't remember had that same problem with their baby, the doctor said that then your body is making the right amount and baby is using it all. I found that really interesting. See, because my interpretation of his lack of poop or even his normally small poops was that he wasn't getting enough. That I was inadequate, my breast milk inadequate. But it's not. Why do we, as parents, always feel like we're not doing a good enough job with our children?

This guy,

Yeah, this one right here. He's not giving me any indication of separating himself from me any. time. soon. Sleeping in a crib? Yeah right. Three months seems to be the magic age when all our others left our bed for one of their own. Not this guy, I'm guessing. It's a wonder he came out of the womb. In fact, I do wonder if I hadn't been induced if he would have just stayed in there indefinitely. I'd probably still be pregnant if he had his way. Sometimes I like it. Sometimes I don't. I love that my baby loves me so much. I can enjoy it knowing it's my last time to do this. Sometimes I feel like I have no freedom. You know, like when you have to go to the bathroom wearing your baby in some sort of carrier? Yeah. Or when you want some, ahem, "alone time" with your husband, and he feels the need to keep scrunching up to you, no matter how many times you move him to the other side of the bed, and nuzzle your chest. It's a total buzz kill, if you know what I mean. Hard to be romantic with your baby holding daddy's hand. Just sayin'.

We had another birthday party. Miss Cheeks turned 4. She's totally hilarious without knowing or trying, very very girly, getting so "grown up" and yet still loves sucking her fingers and carrying her blankie. We kind of give her a hard time about that. I asked her today, "Who do you love more, your blankie or your mom?" She tilted her head (while sucker her fingers), gave me this "aw mom" kind of smile, layed her head on my shoulder and pointed at me. Phew! I was worried there for a minute.

I just don't have the creative energy to come up and implement some fancy, elaborate cake, but I got some late night ~~delirium~~ inspiration while at Wally World the night before and found some cute cake topper candle thing. While there, out of the corner of my eye I spied these really cute cupcake papers. So snatched some up. I'm sure I'll be using them again. I think next time I'll use another cupcake paper as a liner and then put these on. So the oil doesn't taint the paper.

Just cuz

2011-02-02T22:51:00.000-06:00

Did I show you this yet?

No?

Cheeks kept putting these on him. I kept taking them off, and then turn around to do more dishes, turn back around, and there they'd be. It took me a bit to see who did it. It was kinda funny.

What about this one?

I coulda swore I posted this one. I don't see it. Maybe it's on FB. Look at that big smile on the "big" brother's face. So proud he's playing with his baby "brudder" "Wookus", and sharing his Elmo radio.

These next two?... (smile)

That's that puppy dog look I love. All wrinkly skin. Beady eyes. A little furry. Big jowel-y cheeks.

Jack Hanna was on that new talk show called ~~lamely~~ "The Talk". He, naturally, was showing off animals, one of which was a chinchilla. He said it was the softest thing in the world, that he could hardly tell when he was touching the fur.

I just sat there and thought, well, you've never touched my baby's cheeks. So soft you can't tell you're touching them. So soft I couldn't stop my self from rubbing my face on them constantly from the moment he was born.

These daddy shots are my favorite. We have one of him and Cheeks that's probably one of my favorite pics of all time. Really.

Sleep

2011-01-28T23:31:00.001-06:00

The ever elusive, highly desired, wonderful thing called sleep, that parents of newborns lack. Sigh.

The saying they tell new moms, "Sleep when baby sleeps?" Yeah. That's a good one. Wise advice. You really should do that. If you can. And I can't. Usually.

Since my older children don't nap, there are no naps for mama. However, I do need to learn to go to bed when everyone else does. But it's that struggle between 1. finally having some quiet moments to yourself, and not wanting to "waste" them sleeping, 2. getting caught up in all the things you need or want to do (Facebook, laundry, blogging, watching Grey's Anatomy), and 3. realizing that you need to go to bed, but being so tired that you do not (have the capability to realize it). (And why am I writing a blog post at 11 pm instead of going to bed? Oh, yeah, that quiet/to-do/realizing thing.)

What happens if you do not get enough sleep? For me, I am a monster. Today, I am a monster. And it sucks. I hate being that way. It's a Dr Jekyll - Mr. Hyde thing for me. One minute I'm fine, next I'm some crazy, screaming lunatic. It really is scary.

At the same time, it's predictable. As is the mommy guilt of an afternoon/evening of having blown it. Multiple times. ugh. sigh. Then you get people who say, "oh, you're such a great mom" while you're sitting there reviewing the day's terrors and thinking "no, I'm really not." So then there's this weird awkward silence. Yippee.

I remember one time after George was born, him being the king of long mid-night stretches of fussiness or awake-ness from 2 to 4 am. I didn't always do well during those times, being so doggone tired. Frazzled doesn't even begin to describe it. Lots of tears and gnashing of teeth were known to happen. This one time, I had done my doody in the bathroom, but the toilet had previously been clogged and not properly unclogged by the previous user. Also, our plunger sucked (or rather, didn't suck) so bad and I couldn't get it to work. And I freaked. Poor Kong was rudely awakened by his screaming, frantic, lunatic of a wife shouting up the stairs at him to "come down here right now and fix this *&^% toilet." Did I mention it was 4am? Yeah. Good times.

So all you new mom's, tired moms, overworked moms, and any other kind of mom, dad or person responsible for children, my BEST advice to you is to get your sleep. It's the best thing you can do for yourself and your family, and it may just be the difference between Child Protective Services getting called on you or not. Srlsy.

Smile

2011-01-21T22:25:00.000-06:00

And one more. It's blurry, but it's the best.