innocence

The past week I’ve watched a little piece of innocence slip away.  It makes my heart ache.

Zach is very good friends with a little boy that is almost a year older.  His parents held him back so he is in the same grade as Zach.  He has an older brother and this makes him very worldly.  My son adores him.

We went to the waterpark the other day with him and another boy.  Zach is just learning to swim and doesn’t have a lot of confidence yet.  The “worldly” boys wanted to go down the huge water slide right away.  They are nice kids and really tried to get Zach to go with them, but he was having none of it.

I watched for an hour as Zach watched the other boys go down the huge slides over and over again.  It broke my heart- I know what it feels like to be scared to try something new.  I know how it hurts to feel left out.

Finally Zach came over and asked if I would go down the slide with him.  I was thrilled that he was going to give it a try.

As we climbed to the top of the slide, I felt his grip tighten on my hand.  I was nervous too, but I kept my voice calm and reassuring.

When he was ready, we slid down together.  His screams of terror soon turned to giggles of joy.  He did it!!  I was so proud of him.

After a few more times he was ready to go with his friends.  They spent the rest of the afternoon going down the slide together.

Zach walked in that afternoon a scared little kid.  He left a proud big boy.  I was excited for him, but a little sad for me.  I know it is cliche, but they really do grow up quickly.

cousins

Our trip to Colorado has been so much fun.  The cousins hadn’t met before (actually they did meet 5 years ago, but Zach was 1 1/2 so they don’t remember) and we weren’t sure how they would get along.  I was pretty confident that they would be instant friends, and I was right.

Henry (7) is a year older than Zach (6) and Ainsley (5) is a year older than Luke (3 1/2), so Rob’s kids took charge and my kids went along for the ride.

Durango has so many fun things to do that the first couple days we were on the go all the time.  But as the trip wore on, the kids have been happy as clams just playing at home.  New toys, new house, lots of adventures.

They live just a couple blocks from downtown and the river, so we did lots of walking around.  On one of these walks, Luke and Ainsley were holding hands.  I asked Luke if he was enjoying his new friend Ainsley.

Lukey looked at me very seriously and said, “She isn’t my friend - she’s my cousin.”

Remembering how much I adored my cousins I knew exactly what he meant.  Maybe a new definition of cousin could be “most beloved friend”.

I’m so glad my kids got this chance to discover their cousins.  It will be a summer they will always remember.

flyin’

*Warning-the following blog contains lots of bodily fluids. Those with sensitive stomachs might want to skip this entry*

We are visiting my brother in Colorado. We took our Bush Bribe and used it to stimulate the economy (you’re welcome. It’s totally working!).

I get motion sick pretty easily riding in a car. Planes don’t usually bug me, but I took some Dramamine just in case. The first leg of our trip was really bumpy coming in for a landing and I actually used the barf bag.

I was mortified. I’ve never gotten sick on a plane before. I’ve also never sat next to anyone who had to use one of those bags. I was sitting next to my husband, so I’m not sure if anyone else noticed what was going on.

My husband assures me that the smell probably gave me away.

This is not the first time that something like this has happened to me.

A couple of years ago just Zach and I flew down to visit my brother and his family. I love visiting them but we are very different. I’m a planner, and Rob is a seize the moment kind of guy. When my kids were young, I was all about schedules. Rob’s kids had to be very flexible - naps were taken in the car on their way to the next adventure.

The day I was flying home, Rob decided to take us hiking before I left (squeeze in every bit of fun possible). We ended up running late to the airport, and I had to run to catch the plane. Let me state for the record that I had plenty of diapers - they were just in my checked bag. You can probably guess what happened next.

On the final leg of our trip, Zach pooped in his last diaper before we took off. I pushed the help button and asked the attendant if she had any diapers. She looked at me in disgust and wondered aloud why I wasn’t better prepared (I was wondering that myself).

I slinked (slunk?) back to the restroom, hoping that he had pellet poop. I figured I could scrape out the poo and reuse the diaper. No such luck - he had some nice squishy poop that had seeped through the diaper.

I had to get creative. I took Zach’s extra clothes and MacGyvered him a diaper. I was pretty proud of myself.

Later the attendant checked back with me and I shared my success story. She was duly impressed. No longer disgusted, she offered me a free glass of wine.

At the end of the flight we had come up with another idea for a make shift diaper. Maxi pads - they have those on airplanes (feel free to use my idea).

This trip was easy with my kids - I was the only one with problems. Thank goodness they didn’t inherit my motion sickness.

On our return trip I’m taking plenty of Dramamine - and maybe some air freshener.

tears

While I’m thinking about Jason and his grandma I thought I would share a funny story that happened earlier in the year.

I was picking up Zach after school and had had an emotional morning talking with my pastor about some health issues (I’ll write more about that later).

My face must have been tear stained, because when I arrived at school Jason’s grandma immediately asked if I was okay.

I explained what was going on and she gave me a big hug and said (I swear I’m not making this up), “Oh honey- I know exactly how you feel. When I go to the store and look for a card for Big Jason, there aren’t any cards that say, ‘I miss you and I’m sorry you are put away for life.’ ”

We both cracked up and I said, “Bev, you put it all into perspective. ”

When bad things happen you can aways find someone in a tougher situation.

video poker

Ugh!  My husband has hijacked my our computer.  I haven’t blogged for a week because any free moment we have, my husband is on the computer playing video poker. Like everything else in his life, he attacks his new interest with gusto.  This is what I love about him, but it also drives me nuts. Biking, fishing, running, hunting for fossils- he gets obsessed and thinks about it all the time.  How can poker be that interesting?  He watches it on t.v. for gosh sakes.  Similar to watching paint dry, but at least the wall is getting painted (hint, hint). But here is the good news.  He isn’t using real money.  It is all pretend, but he still gets pretty angry when the chips are down. This is our conversation the first couple days.  I would get money updates every hour or so (yes he would play for hours). “Jane, I’m up $40,000!!” Me feigning interest, “Honey that’s great!” one hour later “Jane, I’m up 50,000!!” “Wow, that is awesome!” as his children are screaming in the background. (yes my kids scream and I yell - get over it.) two hours later “Jane, I up 72,000!!” Me - “You do realize this is pretend money don’t you???” Okay I’m exaggerating a titch (is that really a word??? Spell check didn’t catch it so I’m using it.  Get over yourself Webster’s). When I stopped getting updates I foolishly thought that he had stopped playing.  No, he was now losing.  This made him grumpy. “I’m getting crappy cards.” This game is free on the internet.  I was convinced that after they got you hooked they would introduce a game you could play for actual money.  Thank God that hasn’t happened yet. For now I’m going to try and get his attention.  I think I’ll dress as a pair of aces tonight.  Wish me luck.

where’s the love antarctica?

I can’t believe I have a dot on every continent (well except Antarctica - do they really count?) . Can I say again how much I love my ClustrMap.

I wonder if these women from various countries (I assume most are women) get my sense of humor - does it translate across the ocean or do I come off as a bit crazy?

I still would love to hear from someone working in one of those science pods in Antarctica, but I don’t suppose they spend a lot of time looking at mommy blogs. Probably too busy doing all kinds of important sciency stuff. Whatever.

When I was in my 20’s my goal was to visit every continent. Now it is to be read by a person on every continent. I know, a little lame, but a lot more realistic. And some day hubby and I will try to achieve the other goal…if the children haven’t sucked us dry.

But for now - show me some love Antarctica.

sword fighting

I don’t know how moms survived before clorox wipes (this is the second time I’ve mentioned them in my blog - don’t you think I should be getting some free products - or 50 cents off coupons??).  And as the only female in a house full of standing up boys, there is a lot of urine to be wiped up. Yuck! A master’s degree and this is what I do with my day.

My youngest is displaying his independence by resisting to do everything I ask of him. So at bath time the other night, he wouldn’t pee. He still bathes with his brother and for his sake (his brother’s sake really) I was trying to get him to pee, because as soon as he hits the bath, the warm water does its trick. And that’s just gross. I’m trying to get these boys clean.

So my husband came up with the great idea of having both boys pee at the same time. Genius! As you can deduce from the title it soon turned into a sword fight.

What I was trying to avoid in the first place was what happened anyway - urine soaked boys - yummy!

This is where the wipes come in handy.

I told this story to a male friend of mine, and he informed me that in college they had sword fights in the dorm bathrooms. Double yuck.

I asked my husband about this, and he was mortified - no sword fighting going on in his fraternity.

So now I’m wondering, is it a dorm thing? A college thing? A brother thing?

Any guys out there with some insight to the “sport”?

Luke o’seuss

Luke has been talking in lyrical sentences lately.  They are amusing to listen to, and he sounds a bit like Dr. Seuss.

Did he pick up this speech pattern from his favorite books?  We’ll never know.  But this is how he asks a question.

“Can I go to the park Mama, can I?”

“Where is my baby Mama, where?”

“How many bites Mama, how many?”

Cute when you are 3 years old, but we’ll have to break this habit before he hits high school.  I can just see it hear it now.

“Will you go to the movies with me, will you?”

“Do you have the notes from Mr. Blake’s class, do you?

He’ll be ridiculed- luckily time is on our side.

Until then, don’t you think it’s kinda cute, don’t you???

nazis receptionist

Ugh - another sick kid. The receptionist (who is “protecting” her doctor from the crazy mom that, God forbid, would like to make an appointment in this decade) is being a total b$%ch!

This happens to be an ear specialist, and your child has to be bleeding out of both ears in order to see the doctor in 2008.

The conversation went something like this -

“Can the doctor see Zach this week - he is having a weird discharge out of his left ear, and he doesn’t seem to be hearing us.”

Annoyed receptionist replies, “I can get you in on August 28th.”

Calm mom, “I really need to see someone this week.”

“Our earliest is August 28th.” She says this louder because maybe I’m the one with the hearing problem.

“Is there someone else we can see. I’m really concerned about his hearing.”

“Yes, I would be concerned too.”

Then get me in b%#ch!

(inside thought - must be calm - this is the only way to get to the doctor)

“So can I see someone this week?”

Heavy sigh - “Our earliest appointment is August 28th.”

“Who else can I see? I want someone to see him this week.”

silence

Cold icy voice - “One moment please…”

Elevator music for 5 minutes - I think she is hoping I will hang up. Think again b#$ch.

“You can see the P.A. this Wednesday.”

Me in my syrupiest voice, “Thank you so much - we really needed to get in this week.”

And we did need to get in.

The P.A. found that Zach has significant hearing loss in both ears. For the last couple days, I’ve noticed that speaking to him is like playing the telephone game.

I’d say, “Go to bed!” and he’d say, “Show my head?”

He had tubes taken out a month earlier, and they think fluid has built up behind his ears again.

Frustrating for everyone involved. It breaks my heart that he’ll have to have a 3rd pair of tubes.

But there is a silver lining in all of this - he isn’t being a turkey and ignoring me. Unfortunately he really can’t hear me.

can i have a cookie with that?

My oldest woke up with the barfs this morning. If you don’t know my family, you probably think we are the sickest family in the world. Since I’m the one who ends up cleaning all the barf and diarrhea, I would agree with you.

Today when my son was half way through his barfing episode (cue Linda Blair tape), he looked up at me and said, “Mama, did I earn a cookie?”

Let me explain. Because Zach is the barfiest child in the history of the world (I don’t have the data to back this up - just an educated guess), about a year ago I told him that if he either barfed in the toilet or in a bowl, he got a cookie.

Since then I have had to clean up significately less barf .

So with his eye on the prize, mid gag, with puke on his chin, my son asked for a cookie.

See, bribing does work.

birds and bees

One of my dearest friends has 3 kids (twins and a spare) that my boys adore. Her twins are a boy and girl, and Zach has convinced the girl, Anna, that they will marry someday. She is on board with this plan most days.

About a month ago Zach came to me and told me that Anna and he were going to adopt a boy and girl after they got married. Curious, I asked why they were adopting. He told me he didn’t want Anna to have her stomach cut open to get the babies out (I’ve had two c-sections, so he thought that is how all babies are born).

I told him that most babies aren’t born that way, that babies come out down by your bum and that there is no cutting involved. I didn’t want to have this conversation yet, so I tried to keep it simple. Silly me-I thought that would be the end of it.

Yesterday, Zach’s betrothed was over with her brothers. Her mom and I were outside watching the kids. The kids were huddled together talking (never a good sign) when Anna and her brother Warren came running up shouting, “Mommy, do babies really come out of your bum?”.

I had forgotten Zach’s and my earlier conversation, but now it all came rushing back. I sheepishly smiled at my friend Paula and admitted that it was probably Zach who gave them the information. She thought it was funny (that’s why I love her).

We explained that babies come out another special hole, called a vagina, that only girls have (ugh!- I can’t believe this is happening already). The wide-eyed the kids took in this new information and headed off to play.

Later, Zach and Anna come up and had some new plans for the future. They shared that they are going to get married in our backyard, go to California, adopt a baby and then head over to Disneyland.

I guess having a baby out your bum doesn’t sound any better than getting your tummy cut open.

There are a lot of babies that need good homes. And what newborn wouldn’t love to go to Disneyland!

the s@#$ word

Yesterday while we were driving in our car my son asked me, “Mama, do you know the “s” word?”

Uh yeah, I know the “s” word. I’ve been editing myself since you were born so you didn’t learn the “s” word from me.

I had a feel this would be coming. My friend’s son came home knowing the “f” word a couple of weeks ago. I had to tease because her son’s school is the high achieving lily white school, where mine draws from a more diverse population. And my son hadn’t learned the “f” or “s” word. Until now.

“Yes I know the ’s’ word,” I answered. Do I really have to have this talk? Here it goes - let’s find out what he knows.

“Why don’t you whisper the ’s’ word to me.”

“Are you sure I won’t get in trouble?”

“Yes.”

“Okay —stupid”, he whispers.

Phew - I’m absolutely relieved.

Then he wants to know why there are bad words in the first place. Who invented them? Ummm - good question.

“Why do you think there are bad words?” When I don’t have an answer, I turn the question back to him (good strategy for when I’m stumped - which seems to happen more and more).

“Probably to just be naughty,” he answers after thinking about it for awhile.

Good enough for me. Sooner or later he’ll be coming home with the real “s” and “f” word and a little bit of his innocence will slip away. I still don’t know what I’ll say - any ideas out there?

dots- glorious dots!

I know I’m suppose to be bloggin’ to relieve stress, share ideas and have a written record that will mortify my boys some day, but lately I’ve become obsessed with my Cluster Map.

My buddy at Any Mommy Out There? (check her out - she’s great) showed me this map. It not only keeps track of how many hits you have a day, it also puts a dot on the map of where your fellow blogger is bloggin’ from. It is fabulous. Not only do I have a strong following in North America (all 5 of you!), I also have people checking me out in Europe, South America and Australia!!! How did that happen?? It is so exciting, but now I want more. Wouldn’t it be great to get a dot on every continent?!

For the last two days my number of hits has been in the 20’s. I know that is lame to people like my brother who has thousands of hits every day, but I’m psyched. And I want more - it is kind of sick. I haven’t gotten to the point that I’m bribing my kids so I can blog in peace - well okay just once, but I really had some good stuff I needed to get down- like I said - little obsessed.

Hey it isn’t alcohol or pain killers - just bloggin’.

And dots.

Come on Antarctica, show me the love!

provo callin’

I love caller id.  We’ve had it for a year, and it is great for avoiding calls I don’t want to take (no mom and dad-I’m not screening you).  Recently in the evenings we’ve been getting calls from Provo, UT.  We don’t know anyone from there, so we haven’t picked up.

Then it hit me.  Donny Osmond lives there - could he finally have realized that I’m the one after all these years??

I know, I know - I’m happily married and so is he, but Donny and I go way back.  He was the star of my childhood fantasies.  Let me tell you how these dreams went (don’t worry - the following fantasy is G-rated).

Donny and his brothers would be touring in Northern Idaho and playing a concert in Moscow, the college town I grew up in.  They would get lost in town and end up on our dead end street.  Their tour bus would break down in front of our house and he would knock on our door, take one look at me and fall instantly in love.  He would invite me on the tour and off I would go. 

This is where the fantasy ends.  Not very realistic that my folks would let me (ten years old) go on road with the Osmonds -no matter how down to earth (ie. mormany)  they are.  I even dreamed of having dark hair just like his sister Marie - I would fit right in.

This is a very chaste fantasy.  Donny and I would hold hands, possibly kiss (no tongue - gross!).

Finally I decide to pick up the phone.  If Donny was ready to talk, I’m in. But sadly it was a telemarketer.  So I’ll wait.  I’ve waited 30 years - there is still a place in my heart for Donny.

Call me.

library book abyss

I’m a book whore and I seem to have passed this trait on to my children. Whenever we go to the library we always seem to walk out with way too many books.

Here is the crux of my problem. My kids love non-fiction books. Right now they are into sharks, dinosaurs and outer space. The kids love to look at the pictures, but these books are a real snooze to read (and a lot of words I can’t pronounce).

So after the kids have chosen their non-fiction books, I sit them at a table to pour over the pictures. Then I go and find some good story books to read at bedtime. Because no matter how many dinosaur books we bring home - it is always the story books that get chosen at bedtime (thank goodness!). So not only are we checking out books on the topic of the week, we are also getting any fiction book that catches my eye. Our pile becomes enormous.

By the time we leave the library we have yet again checked out way too many books. But here is the real problem with all this- trying to find all these darn books when it is time to return them to the library. I swear I spend a couple hours each week trying to locate library books. I’ve tried all sorts of systems but nothing has helped. (any good ideas out there? let me know.)

So every week before we head back to the library, as I am swearing under my breath looking for Attack of the Killer Whales, I silently pledge that I will set limits this time. The kids will check out 3 books each. Then as I walk through the door all this new found resolve just floats away.

“Look at that book, ohh this one looks cool, okay just one more. ”

Like I said - book whore.

secret society

There is a mom at my son’s co-op who is a fellow blogger. When we discovered our mutual addiction we were giddy. It is like this secret society- I had no idea how many mommy bloggers there were out there. There are some seriously funny writers who look at parenting through the same dry humor glasses I use. My friend Stacy is one of those people, so I’m giving her a shout out and nominating her for The Perfect Post Award. You can check her out at Any Mommy Out There?

My favorite post of hers from the last month is called The Results Are In from May 19th. She polled her friends about their cereal intake and whether they bore boys. Her illustrations are hilarious. I wish she had written my high school science book - the class would have been much more entertaining.

So here’s to you my fellow blogger. May you continue to use your kids’ nap time in order to write the perfect post!

corndogs

Today my oldest got to experience a day in 1st grade. He was so excited. They got to meet the first grade teachers and do some first grade projects. But best of all they got to eat lunch at school.

My son came home yesterday asking me a question I never thought one of my kids would utter.

“Mom, what are corndogs?”

Yikes! How could I have forgotten to introduce my children to the wonders of corndogs? Corndogs and I have a long history together, dating back to the 70’s and the Latah County Fair. I don’t know what it is about fair corndogs, but no one can duplicate that fair taste.

So I explained in mouth watering detail what a corndog was like.

“Will I like them mom?”

“Are you kidding me? You’ll love them,” I answered.

So when Zach got home today I asked him how his first grade experience was. The teachers were nice, the projects were fun, but the corndogs were amazing!

That’s my boy!

jumpin’ in

Walking through the park this afternoon I was taken back to when Zach was a toddler. We use to go to Manito Park all the time to feed the ducks. The pond was murky and disgusting. There was no telling how deep it was. I kept a firm hold on my son’s overalls because, and I hesitate to admit this, I wasn’t sure I would jump in after him. Now of course you know I really would, but with the water so gross it really made me think twice about it. Of course these were inside thoughts.

Fast forward to today. I’m at the park with my good friend Emily. We’ve bonded over babies and church, but most of all we have the same sense of humor. We were noting that there are signs everywhere saying that you cannot feed the ducks. I noticed that the water is much cleaner at the park now that this rule is in place. Then I shared my deep dark secret of hesitating when it came to fishing my child out of the water. She laughed and said that she had that same exact thought .

I knew there was a reason we were friends!

bye bye binky

My son had a binky until he was 3 1/2. I was personally mortified by this. I figured people were judging me-who would let their child have one for so long? (I’ve since discovered that not everyone is thinking about me all the time - go figure!)

I read every article about how to help your child give up his binkies. Putting them on helium balloons and sending them to the babies in heaven (too many binkies and not very environmental). Having the child throw them away themselves to show how grown-up they are (too cruel). I opted for taking the binkies to Toys R Us and trading them in for a toy. (I had a left over gift card from Christmas so it wouldn’t cost me anything - Bonus!)

So Zach and I put all his binkies in a bag and hauled them down to the toy store. I had told him that he might want to chose a stuffed animal that he could sleep with, so he wouldn’t miss his binkies so much. Right away Zach found a big, stuffed, blue and white cat. We brought the cat to the cash register, and I told the pimple faced cashier that we wanted to trade these binkies for the cat. (wink, wink)

He didn’t get it at all - he held up the bag full of binkies and was like, “What do ya want me to do with this?”.

Again I repeated that we were trading these binkies for the stuffed cat (wink, wink - I swear he thought I was hitting on him - as if!). I slid the gift card across the counter.

“So do you just want me to throw these away?”

“Yes,” I hissed in a whisper. Luckily Zach wasn’t paying any attention to our transaction. So many bright and shiny things at Toys R Us to distract him.

After all that fretting the transition was painless. Zach slept easily with his blue and white cat. Isn’t that how most things work with parenting- the things you worry about go smoothly. It is the stuff you haven’t even thought about that sideswipe you.

naps 2

I watch a couple kids during the week. Since I have started to let my youngest stay up in the afternoon, it has been harder to get the other kids to nap. So I took Luke aside and said, “You really aren’t going to take a nap, but can you pretend you are going to go to sleep?”

“Sure Mama - watch me,” and Luke closes his eyes, tilts his head and pretends to be asleep (fake snoring and all).

Nice-that fake snore should fool your friends!

naps

My youngest is transitioning out of naps. This is a sad day for me. He is a great sleeper and if I let him, he would take a 4 hour nap everyday. But I’m beginning to pay at the other end - that is if he takes a good nap, he won’t fall asleep until 10 at night. So do I get a break in the afternoon, or do I get to put him to bed at 7:30 and have a quiet evening with my husband? I’ve been picking the latter, because by the end of the day I am ready for them to go to bed, even if I had a break in the afternoon. But here is the sneaky thing I do. If I’m going to be gone for the evening I give my youngest a nap. I still get the break and I don’t have to deal with the consequences. (shhhhhhh - don’t tell my husband. We’ll see if he really reads my blog!

blessings

Today has been one of those days. Zach has been emotional over everything. Luke has refused to do anything I asked him and has spent so much time in time out I’m afraid his bum might fuse to the stairs just like the poor lady whose butt adhered to the toilet seat. To top it all off I had to take Luke to the doctor because his adenoids were the size of apples. Yeah - more sickness!!!

Then over dinner I remembered what a gift these kids are (good thing because I was about to re-gift them). At dinner we go around the table and share our rose and thorn - the best and worst thing that happened to us that day. When it was Zach’s turn he said that his rose was that the doctor said nothing was seriously wrong with Luke. It almost brought tears to my eyes - he really does love his brother. Despite all the tattling and terrorizing they care about each other - I guess at the end of the day that is all that matters.

baby heroin

Before I had my first child I was totally against little kids watching t.v. I was not going to raise any couch potatoes. My children’s days would be filled with books, creative play and educational outings.

Then Zach was born. The nurses informed me that they had never heard a louder baby. This was my first child so I didn’t know if this was normal. In fact we put off having another child for a long time because I was afraid that maybe Zach was really easy and I was just a weenie. I feared that our second child would show us what tough really was. Thank goodness I was wrong and Lukey ( our second) was an easy baby. The point I’m trying to make is that Zach was a “spirited” baby. (hate that p.c. label- say it like it is - sometimes this baby sucks!)

My brother and his wife had a baby a year before me. They were wonderful about sharing information and baby items. They wanted to send me the Baby Einstein videos, but our mom warned them that I was not going to let Zach watch t.v.

Three months after we had Zach a package arrived in the mail with two Baby Einstein videos. The note with the package simply said, “Come to the dark side! Love, Your little bro”. I ripped off the plastic wrap and popped in that first video (I was willing to try anything at this point). Zachy calmed down immediately. What was this miracle video? I could actually put Zach down and do something for a couple minutes (brush my teeth, shower, comb my hair!). I was sold!

I would love to say that my kids don’t watch t.v. - but they do. Those videos saved my life. For 25 minutes my screaming baby would calm down and coo- baby heroin.

The greatest thing about these videos didn’t surface until Zach could speak. We were down at my parents house and my mom was putting Zach down for a nap. Zach pointed at a picture hanging on the wall and said, “Van Gogh”. Sure enough it was a print of Van Gogh’s. My mom was amazed. Her grandson was a Baby Einstein!

potato man

A couple months ago Luke started saying that he wanted to be a “potato man” when he grows up. We had no idea what he was talking about.

“Mailman?” we would ask.

“No, potato man!”

“Fireman?”

“NO, POTATO MAN!” Luke would reply in his most exasperated 3 year old voice.

This went on for a couple days. Finally Luke found our video case to the movie Toy Story and said, “I want to be a potato man like in this movie”.

Ohhhh - Lukey wanted to be Mr. Potato Head when he grows up. I can see why he identifies with him. They both have extremely large heads. And that whole switching your facial features around to look like a Picasso is a pretty nifty trick.

Aim high little man, aim high!

i’m too sexy for…

My oldest son received a karaoke machine for Christmas. Even though he doesn’t read, he loves singing and has learned songs that have a lot of repetition in the chorus (ie. We Are Family and Y.M.C.A).

The machine has been a huge hit with the grown-ups. Most of our dinner parties now end with group sing-a-longs to our favorite 80’s songs. Two months ago my in-laws brought us a new cd with the song I’m Too Sexy. My father-in-law chose to sing this song after one of our dinner parties. We have since banned this song (some of the lyrics are questionable), but my youngest has been singing it ever since.

I’ve tried not to make a big deal about it, thinking that he’ll sing it less if I don’t react to the song. But he has a mind like a steel trap and you’ve got to admit it is a catchy tune.

On the way to co-op yesterday I hear him singing the “sexy song” in the back of the car. Ugh!!! I really enjoy the moms at co-op, but I don’t know them very well. What kind of mom are they going to think I am- letting my son listen to that kind of music? I decide to teach him a new song, Who let the dogs out…. arff arf arf arffff. I figure this is just as fun and you can substitute all kinds of animals in for the dog (Who let the ducks out? quack, quack, quack, quack).

As we walk into co-op, I believe he has been completely distracted from the song. We greet everyone and as Luke starts playing, he sings the new song under his breath. A mom catches wind of the song and thinks it is pretty cute. I leave the room to put away our jackets. When I come back that same mom has a funny smirk on her face - of course Luke is back to singing how he is “too sexy for this room”. Red faced I explain the whole thing. She thinks it is pretty funny, but I’m sure she is mentally crossing us off her list of potential play dates. Oh well! We’re too sexy for them anyway.

sick part 2

My youngest, Luke, is very sick with the flu.  I hate seeing him so sick.   But I do enjoy limp noodle Luke.  Is that wrong????  He doesn’t talk back or throw tantrums every time he doesn’t get to do something by himself.  He doesn’t fight with his brother.  He snuggles up with me on the couch and falls asleep on my lap.  I hope he feels better soon, but I’m not looking to the return of feisty, independent 3 year old Luke.

sick

It seems like we’ve been sick nonstop this winter. My husband has been the sickest. As a teacher, he has caught everything that his students have had. Now I know that kids are going to get sick, and I’m open to a winter full of colds, but I really detest the stomach flu. (okay - who out there enjoys the stomach flu?) I have friends who say, “Little Lily hasn’t thrown up since she was a baby.” Are you kidding me???? My oldest catches every stomach flu that has come his way. I can’t count how many times he’s puked - I just am so thankful he can finally hit a bowl.

When my husband came down for the second time this season with the pukes, I became crazy germ buster. I put Clorax wipes (miracle product) and Lysol by the toilet so Steve could disinfect each time he puked. He was totally irritated with me, but I didn’t care. I did not want another bout of the pukes. So every time I checked on him, I kindly reminded him to disinfect. Am I asking too much?

That evening I was preoccupied when I brushed my teeth. Halfway through I looked down and noticed to my horror that I was using my husband’s head to the Sonicare. Ughhhhh!!! After gargling with mouthwash for as long as I could stand, I went and told Steve what I did. It was the first time he cracked a smile all day.

Oh Brother

My brother is a lot of fun. We genuinely enjoy each other’s company and have a good time being smart asses to each other.

For my 40th birthday I told Rob that all I wanted was for him to shave his beard into a porn star mustache. (how often does a girl turn 40??!!) We were meeting in CA to surprise my mom who shares my birthday. So when he met my plane of course he was sporting a “pervy” 70’s ’stache. The whole weekend all we could talk about was his rockin’ ’stache. That someone would put aside their own vanity for my amusement was very touching. Cool present!

In my kids eyes Rob is a rock star. Not because he had an “important” job in NYC and met all kinds of “important” people. No, my brother is the coolest uncle because he taught the kids the word fart.

When my brother visited last year I swear my kids didn’t know the word fart. I’m probably naive, but a look of confusion crossed my son’s face when Rob called him a booger eating farter. Excuse me but we call it toot in our house! After the kids figured out what he was talking about, it was poop jokes the whole weekend. I had to reel my kids back in after he went home. We came up with a new rule that they could only say fart when my brother was around. I told Rob that next time I visited his family he had better watch out.

Rob flew me back to NYC last summer for a visit. It was a trip of a lifetime. A stay-at-home mom by herself in a plane across country - are you kidding me?!! I was in heaven! I bought tons of magazines and gorged myself on star gossip and fashion tips. Oh- NYC was pretty great too. In all this fun I almost forgot to mess with Rob’s kids. Luckily the last day it popped into my head right before I was to leave. Unfortunately Rob’s boy had already left for school but his daughter Ainsley was still at home. She was just 4 at the time and cute as a button (putty in my hands!). I taught her that every time her dad told her to do something she was suppose to role her eyes and say “whatever”. Genius!

We are visiting this summer and actually getting the two families together. Game on- Little bro, Game On!

babies

As the couple start getting use to the idea, Ann has a miscarriage. They are devastated. But she has the fever - she wants a baby! So as soon as the doctor gives them the okay they start trying again. She gets pregnant quickly but is fearful she’ll miscarry. She calls me on her way to the doctor’s appointment to hear the heartbeat, scared there won’t be one. I’m nervous too, but tease her and a tell her that after age 35, your chances of having twins go up significantly. Kind of your last gasp at fertility - your ovaries just start shooting out eggs, hoping something will stick. Anyway I tell her to call me after the appointment. When she calls her voice sounds crushed. “Oh no,” I say. “They didn’t find a heartbeat.” Ann replies, “They found a heartbeat alright - baby A and baby B.” Now she has to tell Sam they are having twins!!! Again Sam is great.

Behind their backs we are all saying that they don’t know what they are in for - they are in way over their heads. This is the couple that eat at the hippest restaurants, go to concerts, and stay up past 9 (p.m. that is). These babies are going to rock their world. After a scary pregnancy with lots of bed rest and hospitalization, Ann gives birth to two healthy girls. I have never seen a mom slide into the role more gracefully. I’m sure she has tough days, but she rarely shows it.

When it came time to decide whether or not to go back to work, Ann calls me for some input. I truthfully tell her I don’t know anyone who is better suited for the job. I tell her that if she is even thinking about it she’ll never regret staying home.

oral hygiene

Best reason not too brush your teeth - from my 3 year old Luke:

“Sharks don’t brush their teeth.”

Me: “Yes they do.”

Luke: “I watch the whole movie Shark Tales - there no flossing and brushing in the whole movie.”

how can you argue with that????

Power Rangers

My sons are really into Power Rangers. So are all their friends. They love to dress up as them and play for hours with their action figures. My oldest son had a friend over the other day. They were playing Power Rangers as usual and his friend Jack told me that his mother was a Power Ranger. I must have been cranky because I told him that his mom was not a Power Ranger. He argued with me for a little bit and then gave up trying to convince me. Later when I talking to his mom I felt bad about bursting her superhero bubble. But then we came up with an even better idea. She told Jack that the reason I said she wasn’t a Power Ranger was because I was one also. I hadn’t told my boys yet and that was why I was denying her super heroness (new word - watch out Websters). I said that what would really seal the deal would be for us to superimpose our heads on a couple of Power Ranger bodies. And then when she is on the computer with her son she could “accidentally” open the picture and then quickly close it with an “Oops - you weren’t suppose to see that”. I love messing with our kids. And I don’t think it is any worse than Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. Good clean fun - again check back with me in a couple years to see if I really messed them up.

Broccoli

I was a picky eater as a kid. My parents were really great about it. They made me try everything, but it wasn’t the “clean plate” club like my husband’s family. We recently got back from a trip to visit Steve’s grandparents and parents. These trips used to really stress me out - especially going to the grandparents’ home. Their house is full of fragile knickknacks and the food they serve isn’t very kid friendly (lots of dry meat and starch). I was always embarrassed when the kids wouldn’t touch their supper and we would spend the whole dinner trying to get our kids to eat something. But here is a little tidbit I stumbled upon. I’ve started cooking for the grandparents when we visit to help out a bit- they are in their 80’s and we don’t want to be a burden when we visit. When I was planning the menu this time I came up with the brilliant idea of serving something my kids will eat. Genius!! I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. The grandparents, who are all about the clean plate club, thought my kids were such great eaters! Ha! I know the truth.

Being a reformed picky eater I don’t know why this is bugging me so much. I guess I secretly want to be one of those moms who says, “Billy just loves lima beans. He’s never eaten candy before and potty trained himself at 15 months. Oh, and he also slept through the night the first night home from the hospital.” Whatever.

But alas I have Luke who only likes fruit- the kid we totally cheered for when he tried one mac and cheese noodle (what kid doesn’t like day glow Kraft macaroni??). Zach will try everything but definitely has to be coerced on certain foods. Which brings me to the subject of this rant - broccoli. When Zach was little he was pretty good with vegetables. Somewhere along the line he stopped liking broccoli. One night I had had enough and said he wasn’t getting up without eating some broccoli. He finally did and projectile vomitted all over me. I felt awful and thought he might be getting the stomach flu. So like any good mom who hasn’t learned her lesson, a couple weeks later I served him broccoli again. And again he threw up all over me. Poor kid. So I promised him that he no longer had to eat broccoli - ever. Sorry future wife of Zach.

Nail Fairy

When my oldest was 3 he started getting into the Power Rangers. His buddies at preschool taught him all about them at recess, so without ever seeing a movie my son was an expert. This was around Halloween time and Zach really wanted to be a Power Ranger. I mentioned this to a friend and she said she could loan me a blue Power Ranger costume. Everyone was happy.
Then we went to my mother-in-law’s for a wedding. She had purchased Zach his first Power Ranger movie. I watched the beginning of the movie and it seemed pretty harmless so I let him watch it. Also during this visit Zach smashed his finger in an accordion phone booth door (long story). It was pretty gruesome and it looked like he was going to lose his fingernail. This freaked Zach out so we made up a story about the Fingernail Fairy and how she brings you something if you’re really brave when your nail falls out. This made him feel a bit better. So we are heading back home to Spokane and Zach starts saying that he doesn’t want to be a blue Power Ranger anymore, he wants to be the red one. I said no, we already have the blue costume - I’m not buying a new costume. Zach bursts into tears and says, “But the blue ranger is a girl!”. Poor kid - in his new movie Zach discovers that the blue ranger is a girl. It turns out there are various teams (now I’m an expert!) and on some teams the blue ranger is a girl and on others the blue ranger is a boy. So I explain all this to Zach and by the time we get back to Spokane I have talked him down and he is fine with wearing the blue costume.
The day before Halloween I’m picking up a prescription at Rite-Aid and out of the corner of my eye I spy a red Power Ranger costume. I think to myself that if it is under $10 and the right size I’m going to buy it. Well it is $6 and the right size. Now I don’t want to look like I’ve given in and bought him the costume so I remember the nail fairy story. When Zach got home from preschool that day I had the costume hanging in the entryway. I acted as shocked as he was when we walked in the door. The note on the costume said that even though he had not lost his nail yet, he had been so brave he deserved a reward. So for Halloween Zach was a red ranger and there was no question that the child underneath the costume was a boy. All was right in the universe.

moobs

The other day my 3 year old was in the bathroom as I got out of the shower. We only have one bathroom and have been pretty open with our nakedness. The jury is still out on whether this will scar my boys or make them have a good body image. Get back to me in 15 years. Anyway he looked up at me and said, “Mama, are you chubby?”. Now I knew I’ve been eating a lot of Easter candy lately, but I didn’t think it had effected my waistline that much. I asked him what made him think that. He replied, “Daddy said only chubby people have boobies”. I couldn’t wait to find out what my husband had been telling the boys. It turns out they were asking him if boys have “boobies”. He answered that only chubby boys have boobs. Great—–sometimes I don’t think my husband thinks before he opens his mouth. Doesn’t he realize that the things he thinks are funny are repeated by the little ones to people who don’t think they are that funny. I have a girlfriend who says she is saving for her son’s therapy instead of higher education. Maybe I should open an account.
p.s.
Moobs = man boobs

Silence is Deadly

You know the old saying “Silence is Golden”? The people who coined this phrase obviously did not have young kids. Any mom will tell you that if it is too quiet the kids must be up to something. I got a call the other day from one of my friends and she was ready to kill her children. She had been busy in the kitchen when she realized she hadn’t heard from her kids in awhile. When she went to investigate she found her 5 year old twins in the bathroom covered with baby powder and maxi-pads. To make matters worse they had made a feeble attempt to clean up after themselves with wet toilet paper. So now the baby powder had taken on a paste consistency. As I was speaking to her she was peeling the maxi-pads off her kids. She said this was similar to taking off giant band-aids and the kids were yelping in the background. My first response was, “Did you take a picture?”. This didn’t sit well with her and she said that she was too mad to take a picture. I sympathized with her - I wouldn’t have thought to grab the camera if my kids had done this. When you are in the heat of the moment all you want to do is punish and clean up. But this story was too funny and pictures would have been great for blackmail purposes when her kids were teenagers. I’m always thinking ahead!

Jobs

Happy Easter!! Today is a day that takes all my will power. Not only does it have the most delicious candy of the year- it is also a Sunday. And that means the Sunday paper with the want-ads. I’m a stay-at-home mom and most days I’m really happy with my decision. But Sunday is the day I can peruse the paper and imagine what my life would be like if I would have made a different decision. As I read about the various jobs I imagine myself in each career: Office manager (me in stilettos and a sexy secretary pencil skirt), newspaper reporter (me in a bright trench coat and “smart” glasses tracking down leads), college professor (me in a fitted blazer and messy bun inspiring a younger generation) - hmm, looks like I need to get out of my jeans and turtleneck rut. It has gotten so bad that I can’t look at these ads anymore - they make me crazy. The other day a friend called early in the morning with the news that her co-op needs a new preschool teacher next year. My mouth began to drool as we discussed the hours (very child friendly) and the pay (better than most hourly jobs). Then it hit me - I don’t like little kids. I love my own kids, but a room full of 3 and 4 year olds - ugh! It is hard enough for me to teach Kindergarten Sunday school every other week - and that is just 45 minutes. So I call my friend back and say that this just isn’t the right time - and it isn’t. Luke is only 3 and I would like to be home with him until he is in school full-time. What is interesting is that job opportunities seem to come my way every year. So when I’m really ready to head back I know that there will be some new opportunities I never even envisioned. Until then I need to keep my eye on the prize - my kids. Now pass my that peanut butter egg!

Easter Candy

Okay - I love candy - it is a real weakness for me. And for some reason Easter is the hardest time for me. At the beginning of the holiday season (Halloween) I have pretty good will power. I buy the candy I don’t like and my kids are big sorters so there is no stealing their stash. But by the time Easter rolls around my will power has dissolved. As I write this I’m eating chocolate eggs and jellybeans that were meant for my kids’ baskets. I even had an internal conversation with myself as I bought the candy, how I was not going to eat it, but I had the bag ripped open before I reached my exit. One year I decided not to buy any candy until the day before Easter in the hopes that I would not eat my weight in candy. It was a great plan except that my son’s favorite book that year was Owen’s Marshmallow Chick. It is a cute little story by Kevin Henkes (one of my favorite authors) about a mouse who gets all this yummy candy in his basket, but his favorite is a little yellow marshmallow chick. So all my oldest wanted the Easter bunny to bring him was one of those yucky peeps. I love candy, but I cannot understand the world’s fascination with peeps. The only time I like marshmallows are when they are roasted over a campfire. But I digress- it is the day before Easter and I can’t find one stupid peep. I guess I’m the only one who finds them revolting. By the time I hit my 4th store I’m totally frustrated. I end up buying an overpriced yellow chick with frosting features. Yuck. So Easter is saved that year but I decide not to wait until the last minute to buy Easter candy. I have yet to figure out a way to keep me out of the candy. I’m thinking about locking it in our detached garage.