Do you ever wish your kids had a ‘mute’ button? September 24, 2007

We were killing time at McDonald’s, when the Captain had to go to the bathroom. Having 3 boys has many benefits, one of them being that when Daddy is with us, I am not on bathroom duty. So, I sat relaxing while they sprinted to the potty.

Reportedly, an EXTREMELY obese man had just “dropped the kids off at the pool,” so to speak, and was washing his hands when my husband and son blew through the door, and were greeted by a horrible stench. “OH MY GOSH, IT STINKS SOOOO BAD IN HERE DADDY!” Announced the Captain at the top of his lungs, much to my husband’s chagrin. “Wow, that is the STINKIEST SMELL I EVER SMELLED, That Is SOOOO Stinky!”

Somehow, between gaging and choking back laughter, my husband was able to successfully hush the Captain, but I did notice that the man changed his order to “To Go” upon returning from the bathroom, though apparently “Already Went” would have been more like it.

Dinner at my house… September 21, 2007

I recently realized just how much class and dignity my husband brings to the table, when he recently missed dinner.

Usually we all sit down together and tell daddy about our day and all the wonderful things we saw (many are bug-related) and did (often mud related).

Anyway, this particular night I had out done myself making a nice dinner for my boys. With the table set, and ever thing still hot and steaming, I called my boys to the table. The Caboose (1) was already in his highchair eating. The Adventurer (3), who must have stomach worms because he is always STARVING, made a rapid appearance. After two or three calls, the Captain (5) ran into the dining room stark naked, grabbed a lit candle off of the side table, kept running, and managed to spill hot wax all over the floor, the table, and the potatoes, narrowly missing a very long night at the Emergency Room with CPS asking me to explain: “one more time, just exactly how did your son get hot wax all over his privates?”

Needless to say, it was one more frustrating event at the end of a long day. After the Captain got dressed and I cleaned up most of the wax, I sat silently eating with my three boys, mentally counting down how long until bed time. The comotion around me, however, did not cease. The Caboose sat munching and declaring: “LA WA BA LA LA WA BA LA LO” at the top of his lunges, while the Adventure sat singing through bites

What I do for a living… September 13, 2007

My husband is a business man. One of the perks of his profession is business functions, some of which I attend with him. I have attended enough to know that the evening usually consists of a bunch of people exchanging business cards, drinking one to many margaritas, and telling everyone, “Call me!”. The popular question of the night is, “Sooo, what do you do?” Once I was having a wonderful conversation with a woman; when she asked the “question,” I courageously answered, “I take care of my children.” The conversation dropped dead. She mustered a few kind words before she ended the conversation and avoided me for the rest of the night like ‘mommy’ was something contagious.

Another function was looming in the horizon, and I found myself wondering how I was going to explain my chosen profession this time. I can just hear the conversation, “Well, I have changed upwards of 4 poppy diapers every day for the last 4 years, and I haven’t thrown up once.” I say in my coolest “I’m-better-than-you” voice. Maybe a little too sarcastic. I will have to save it for a really juicy moment.

We arrived at the business reception around 7 pm. I was wearing my best clearance-rack dress, with some great shoes. Ok, so they came from a clearance rack to, I’m a bottom feeder, I admit it. Anyway, we were all having a wonderful evening, and as usually happens, my husband and I were separated, and once again I found myself making conversation with complete strangers.

Upon leaving one nice conversation, I found myself trapped by the path of Alpha Woman. You know, the woman with the perfect hair, the perky breasts that have never been the source of someone’s six square meals a day, and the tight little waist that has not blown up to huge proportions and deflated three times, suffering from a serious set back of stretch marks. Her dress was immaculate and very expensive. So were her jewelry, her shoes, and her make-up. I’d be willing to put money on the fact that her underwear cost more that my whole ensemble that evening. After the proper exchange of names and hellos, she was off to the races, quickly trying to discern which one of us was more important, and she was in no mood for loosening. “Well, I work with some of the most prominent Architects in the state, Bla bla bla…” All I hear is, “I am SO important, don’t you just wanna be me?”

I politely nod and say, “Oh that is wonderful, how exciting for you…” and finally her ego simply can’t wait any longer. Seeing that she has not yet managed to intimidate me, and that I have not yet begun competing with her, she must know if I am her better, or if I am one of the other minions she has already crushed somewhere between her stilettos and her overpowering narcissism. I know what is coming, and it really is a no win question. Even if I tell her I am Empress of the World she will just shrug and say something like, “Well, I certainly had the opportunity to do that, but I am just really so much more fulfilled in what I am doing… bla bla bla.”

Finally she asks, “SO what do you do for a living?”

“My husband,” I look her square in the eye as the words spring from my mouth, almost without my control. She chokes on the ice she’s chewing. And as she’s coughing, I add, “and when he’s at work, I make The Best play dough snakes. You know, I’ve found the yellow stays so much softer than the blue. It must have something to do with the amount of pigment in the clay.”

“Well, nice to meet you,” she acting very shifty as she moves away, bumping a waiter, and spilling the rest of her margarita on herself. “Ooops, better clean this up, hope to see you later in the evening…” and like that she is gone.

I quietly smile, and make my way back to my husband, snuggling in close for a kiss. I only notice Alpha Woman twice more that night, both times on the very most opposite side of the room, nervously looking for me over her shoulder. Oh she’s right to think I am half insane. I probably am. Being a mom has a way of making you half crazy, but it also has a way of making things oh so clear at the same time. Salud!

Jellyfish Testicles September 13, 2007

We have been practicing letter sounds with flashcards that have the letter and a picture of a coresponding animal on them, you know, word association to trigger long term memories… or something like that.

Anyway, the letter J is paired with a jellyfish, who happens to have very long tentacles, which my 5-year old could not help but comment on:

“Mom, Jellyfish have REALLY long Testicles, don’t they, and it really hurts when their testicles sting you, huh.”

Yep buddy, they sure do, watch out for those Jellyfish!

The Lemonade Stand September 7, 2007

One Saturday morning, my oldest son decided to open a lemonade stand, to earn money for the remote control helicopter he really wanted. He and my middle son squeezed lemons, made a sign, put out the cups, and then started asking every neighbor they could find if they wanted to buy some lemonade.Two little boys across the street turned out to be very willing consumers, promising to buy more lemonade when the stand was next open. But, the next time the lemonade stand was open, they weren’t home. My son came into the house to ask me, “Mom, when are those boys going to be home? I really want their money!”

Inside, I had to laugh at the honesty of a five-year old. He didn’t care about “providing a better product” or “filling a need for a necessary service.” Like any true entrepreneur, he was interested in the people who would give him money. But I do believe he will take better care of that remote control helicopter than any other boy when he finally earns enough “money and cash.”

The Woman’s Dictionary For Men August 27, 2007

Forwarded to me from my father, this is funny, and sadly true! -H-

FINE: This is the word women use to end an argument when they feel they are right and you need to shut up. Never use “fine” to describe how a woman looks - this will cause you to have one of those arguments.

FIVE MINUTES: This is half an hour. It is equivalent to the five minutes that your football game is going to last before you take out the trash, so it’s an even trade.

NOTHING: This means “something,” and you should be on your toes. “Nothing” is usually used to describe the feeling a woman has of wanting to turn you inside out, upside down, and backwards. “Nothing” usually signifies an argument that will last “Five Minutes” and end with “Fine”

GO AHEAD (With Raised Eyebrows!): This is a dare. One that will result in a woman getting upset over “Nothing” and will end with the word “Fine”

GO AHEAD (Normal Eyebrows): This means “I give up” or “do what you want because I don’t care” You will get a “Raised Eyebrow Go Ahead” in just a few minutes, followed by “Nothing” and “Fine” and she will talk to you in about “Five Minutes” when she cools off.

LOUD SIGH: This is not actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A “Loud Sigh” means she thinks you are an idiot at that moment, and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over “Nothing”

SOFT SIGH: Again, not a word, but a non-verbal statement. “Soft Sighs” mean that she is content. Your best bet is to not move or breathe, and she will stay content.

THAT’S OKAY: This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can make to a man. “That’s Okay” means that she wants to think long and hard before paying you back for whatever it is that you have done. “That’s Okay” is often used with the word “Fine” and in conjunction with a “Raised Eyebrow.”

GO AHEAD!: At some point in the near future, you are going to be in some mighty big trouble!

PLEASE DO: This is not a statement, it is an offer. A woman is giving you the chance to come up with whatever excuse or reason you have for doing whatever it is that you have done. You have a fair chance with the truth, so be careful and you shouldn’t get a “That’s Okay”

THANKS: A woman is thanking you. Do not faint! Just say you’re welcome.

THANKS A LOT: This is much different from “Thanks.” A woman will say, “Thanks A Lot” when she is really ticked off at you. It signifies that you have offended her in some callous way, and will be followed by the “Loud Sigh.” Be careful not to ask what is wrong after the “Loud Sigh,” as she will only tell you “Nothing”

Boys on Bikes August 16, 2007

Today we went to the park, so my boys could ride their bikes. They have 2 rules: they must put on their shoes before we leave, and they must wear their helmets. My middle son, having all of the wisdom of a 3-year-old, decided to pick out flip-flops. I know you think you know where this is going, but read on!

We were at the park when he yelled out, “Hey mom, watch this trick!” Now any mother of a 3-year-old knows that “tricks” are usually simple things, like one foot off the pedal, but not today. I watched in shock as my little guy started pedaling furiously, training wheels wobbling, and then he began climbing his little flip-flopped feet up onto the seat of his bike. Down the gradual slope he rolled, holding onto the handle bars, two little feet balanced on his bike seat for a good minute and a half.

I sat with my mouth hanging open, wondering if I should run down the side walk and try to catch him before he fell off. But he didn’t. He hopped off right before he got to the street, all smiles, calling out “Did you see that Mom?” How fast they grow, my sweet bike-riding boys!

The upside to a cashless economy… January 18, 2007

One day (before forsook my dignity and became a mini van momma), I had the grand idea to wash the car, while my boys played inside. Tobias was barely two, Conner was 3 1/2, and Ethan was negative 4 months. They had a marvelous time “driving” and playing together. We happily stood in the driveway, waving to Daddy as he drove to work in the shiny, clean car. But as he turned the corner, he honked the loudest, rudest honk I’ve ever heard, right as an elderly man was walking by. A couple minutes later, my husband was on the phone, calling to tell me that one of our young drivers had apparently shoved some coins into the steering column. Every time he turned right, the coins activated the horn, causing it to honk uncontrollably. That quick hose-down turned into the most expensive car wash I’ve ever had. When we finally got it fixed, the bill was about a hundred dollars. Imagine, $100 to retrieve 12 cents.

Joy January 15, 2007

It was a Monday. Not that this fact has any significance, but it was a Monday. We’d played games, watched a cartoon, done 3 loads of laundry, changed the sheets, and made it half way through a megalith stack of papers. The family room was strewn with random books, a gigantic pile of old magazines, which my boys were cutting into tiny pieces. There was an overflowing pile of laundry on the couch, and a vast array of paper stacks. Sprinkled all about the mess were little yellow chunks of play dough. I had spent 24 minutes on hold while making mac and cheese, only to be hung up on by the “Customer Representative.” He probably heard the mayhem in the background and decided he’d really rather not take my call. But I digress.

We gobbled up lunch, just in time for nap time. But half an hour passed, and found my littlest guy fed and sleeping. My bigger boys (2&4) were having a marvelous time scooping water in and out of a pan in the sink. I was making chocolate chip cookies, only because my chocolate craving was so fierce that I was about to eat the whole bag of chips, and I figured it was now or never on the cookies. An hour later, my boys were washed and changed into their Spiderman suits, and we danced around the living room, waiting for the cookies to cool. We munched and laughed, and nap time finally arrived, with out any argument, 2 hours later than it normally did.

“Oh, how wonderful for you,” you might sarcastically say. But I’m not quite done.

I have spent parts of the last 4 years wondering if it would ever get easier. There have been a long succession of days that could not end soon enough. Would my house ever stay clean for just one whole day? Would it ever get easier? Would I ever not be so exhausted?

No. The day of the clean house has not yet arrived. In fact, I am wondering why I thought it was so messy when I had only one little infant sitting quietly in his seat. If only I had seen the future…

Yes. It has gotten easier. Yes, I have gotten less exhausted. It is a gradual shift, where the unbelievable becomes a normal day, when the mayhem is unwittingly transformed into peace, and suddenly it isn’t so hard anymore. Ironic, I know. I have more children, more tasks, more responsibility, and yet there is a certain peace that God has transposed into our lives. There is a joy sometimes quite, sometimes much more pronounced, that has come to fill my heart with deep love and contentment. And so it is, that there is a day that comes when nap time is almost a hindrance to all the fun that is had, and no longer a desperate attempt for an hour of sanity. Know, in the midst of seeming despair, that joy will come, and with it, a deep enjoyment of your children.

How screaming babies lead to short shorts and no underware. January 15, 2007

It was a day. Ethan, 2 months old, cried the whole 90 minutes it took me to make one of Rachel Ray’s 30 minute meals. Apparently her time table doesn’t account for screaming infants. Conner (4), and Tobias (2) were off having a great adventure, getting into all sorts of mischief. As the oven timer went off, I called my husband to tell him dinner was ready, and ask what time we should pick him up. “How about 5:45?” He asked. “Ok… what time is it right now?” I asked. “4:45,” he replies. Yes it really is one of those days. I was so eager for it to be over I had sped it up. Thankfully he realized this, and we agreed to meet at the Children’s Science museum in 15 minutes. “Quick boys, we’re going to Explora! Change your clothes and grab your shoes, I’ll meet you in the van!” And we were off. I threw foil over our dinner and launched the double stroller into the van. Ethan kept screaming until I buckled him into his car seat. Then the perfect angle. Who knows. Someone had turned on all the lights in the house. Someone needed shorts. I couldn’t find my shoes… finally we did make it to the Museum, about 20 minutes late. With all the energy in the world we BURST out of the van and into Explora.

The lady at the front desk looked a little funny as we careened through the doors. Me: No make-up, a cock-eyed ponytail, and a top that really should have been changed. Conner’s shirt was not only inside out, but backwards. Even better still, he had put 2-month old Ethan’s pants on, and was wearing them as shorts. I have no idea how they buttoned. Tobias had on clothes that were all his, and amazingly they were all going in the right direction. However at some point in the afternoon, he had shed his underwear and put on a pair of oversized shorts, that kept falling down to reveal a very nice round little bottom. Ethan, the man behind the insanity, was quite content, happy as a lark to be out of the house and buckled into the stroller. Conner and Tobias were also the picture of happiness, Conner with the pants he hadn’t worn in 3 1/2 years, and Tobias, with his waistband in his fist, or around his ankles, should he forget. And really, I was happy too. A laughing, frumpy somewhat dirty, wreck of a mother, having the time of my life with my sweet little boys. Yes, I am a mother. I can always tell on days like these.