One Less Way to Die

Kids are dangerous. I think they should come with a warning label for their potential level of danger and mayhem. Maybe on the DEFCON scale or something. Some kids would just be at DEFCON-1. Those are the kids who may throw their bowl of applesauce off the high chair tray once or twice and maybe occasionally poop in the bathtub. (Yes, that happens.) I'm thinking of Valenzoo's children here, and you, Dharma. ThePinkiest(5) was once in this category but she was upgraded last year to DEFCON-4.

DEFCON-2 are your kids who don't get themselves into trouble but if left there, will continue to roll off the bed hoping that this time gravity will not exist, even though they have tested this theory 500 times to date and are old enough to retain the results of all their previous experiments. [LittleMommy(9)]

DEFCON-3 are the kids who think they are invincible or that they have super powers. I'm talking specifically about Mr.Yuke(4) here. Did I ever blog about the time he thought he actually WAS Superman? If I did, I apologize for repeating it here.

This is what happened. The boys all share a room. Bubba(7) has the top bunk, a twin. Mr.Yuke(4) has the bottom bunk, a double. Across the room a few feet is MonsterTruck's(3) bed, a toddler. Well, Mr.Yuke had on his new Superman jammies and he was sure that those pj's were all he needed to attain all the powers of Krypton. He decided the best way to test his power would be with flight. Specifically, he would fly from a standing position on MonsterTruck's(3) bed UP TO Bubba's(7) bed. Really, as far as SuperHero flight patterns go, this really was a small and easily attainable first attempt. Well, he made the leap, fell short of his goal (the top bunk), and SMACKED his head on the metal edge of the bottom bunk. Ever seen a headwound? Yeah, they're messy. So after slowing down the bleeding I ascertained that Mr.Yuke(4)-(then 3) was going to need several stitches. I took him to the emergency room- and here is the part where he warrants the DEFCON-3 rating as opposed to just the accident-prone DEFCON-2: As the doctor was stitching him up, asking him all those slightly insinuating/accusatory questions to make sure the parent didn't just make up a phony Superman story and actually bludgeon him with a blunt object, the doc says, "So you can't really fly, huh? (Then with confidence and somewhat in the tone of a gameshow host-) Well, you're not going to try that again are you?" Mr.Yuke's(4) answer? "Well, I fink it's because I didn't have my cape on. You need your cape to fly. I need to try it again WITH my cape." The doctor didn't even know what to say to that. He just gave me a look that said, "I pity you."

DEFCON-4: These are the kids who learn to open the child safety locks and pill bottles when they are 7 months old. They have advanced motor skills so many of them are also climbers and escape artists. MonsterTruck(3) falls into this category. I've mentioned before that we have called Poison Control more times for that kid than all the other kids put together. UPDATE: Since that post, we've called Poison Control four more times. He is just bent on killing himself, ok? DEFCON-4 kids are also the ones who are the evil genius masterminds behind all the naughtiness that takes place in a given household. This is where ThePinkiest(5) fits in. Last week when I posted the In A Word meme tag, it was because I needed a few days to find the humor in her latest scheme. It was still too fresh to be funny. Here is what happened.

I mentioned I'm clueless, right? Well, in spite of past experience, I left an open bag of flour in the kitchen overnight. [I guess that makes me a DEFCON-2 : )] ThePinkiest(5) and Mr.Yuke(4) discovered it the next day while I was upstairs laying down with Kryptonite(1). We were both just recovering from some sort of flu bug that was pretty nasty and we were plain dog tired. I heard the two of them downstairs laughing their maniacal laughter- and really, if I had been on top of my game instead of in a sick-induced stupor, I probably would have realized from the sound of that laughter that something insidious was taking place and would have put a stop to it before it escalated to where it did. But my pregnancy brain was not functioning at that Supermom level so I missed my cue for intervention. The first clue I got that something was not right was when MonsterTruck(3) came upstairs with white hair and said, "Mo-om. ThePinkiest(5) and Mr.Yuke(4) are pwaying wif duh fwower." I sent him to the shower and spent the next several minutes trying to work up the energy to go downstairs and see what the extent of the mess was. Now, the next part is unclear but from what I could gather it went like this: There had been a flour fight where handfulls of flour were thrown around (about 20 pounds worth, give or take). Then someone looked around and realized that they were going to be in BIG trouble so they decided they better clean it up. I think this must be the point when they added the water (about 2 gallons worth, all over the kitchen floor). At least I think they were using the water to clean it up with. I was a little too ballistic to gather accurate details at the time. You know what you get when you mix flour and water, right? Yep. They paper mache`d my entire kitchen floor. And then tried to sweep up the goo up with the broom. Oh- by the way, Lowe's has an excellent broom selection, just FYI. So I was exhausted, angry, still not feeling all that well, and was NOT under any circumstances going to get my pregnant self on my hands and knees to clean up that mess. I supplied the two of them with scrapers and later rags, and allowed them the joy of cleaning up their fun. ThePinkiest(5) actually said to me after about ten minutes of scraping, "It's NOT FAIR that WE have to clean up this mess." HA! MyBeautiful put it best when she said, "It's not fair. WE already spent FIFTEEN minutes making this mess. We shouldn't have to clean it up too." Things like this are why ThePinkiest(5) is permanently at DEFCON-4. That night I left the minute Husband came home and went to a movie with Smunchie and MyOtherMother. Husband is good like that. Sometimes it's necessary to leave your children for a short while in order to love them properly when you come back. We saw BabyMama. It was WAY better than the previews made it look.

DEFCON-5 is reserved for kids who bring drugs into the house and act violently against their family members. We don't have any of those. Knock on wood.

Kryptonite(1) has been a DEFCON-1 kid since she was born. I call that "the tender mercies of the Lord". She is easy and low-maintenance. She has only had two or three minor accidents in a year and she learned quickly from all of them. This week she learned two new things. She has expanded her vocabulary from "No" to "No" and "Hi!". And she learned to crawl down the stairs!!! (Insert angelic choir and applause here.) I am ecstatic. One less way to die. Now if I could just get her to stop playing in the potty every time someone forgets to close the bathroom door upon exiting the restroom, we'd be good. Because let's face it, the only thing worse than your baby drowning, is your baby drowning in pee-water from a toilet that was left unflushed by an older sibling. WHY can't they flush the toilet?! WHY? I just don't get it.

Hail The Conquering Hero

Yep. Husband was out of town ALL LAST WEEK. And I survived. You can hail me now. Ha ha. I obviously didn't have time to get on the ol' blog seein' as how the rugrats were runnin' me ragged. I held Family Home Evening, got the house clean (mostly), hosted my book group, and dished out the consequences when they became necessary. But I did not have time to turn on the computer. Here are some of the things I would have blogged about:


A Walk To Remember
Kryptonite(11mo) decided to become a full-fledged person this week. She has not been interested in holding hands and walking, cruising around the furniture, or anything like that. Then Wednesday she was sitting in the kitchen on the floor looking around when she got a look on her face. She stood up without holding onto anything and just walked away. She crossed the entire room (about 10 feet) before she dropped down and started crawling again. She turned and gave us all a smug smile that said, "You guys think you're ALL THAT."
She's been walking ever since.

Brotherly Love
Mr. Yuke(4): Up there in the road! I one it-I two it-I three it-I four it-I five it-I six it-I seven it-I ATE IT!!!
Then, speaking to Monster Truck(2):
You one it-you two it-you three it-you four it-you five it-you six it-you seven it-YOU ATE IT!!!
You ate the cake and ice cream, and I ate a bowl of poop!!!!
Isn't that sweet? Is there a more selfless example of brotherly love?

Doin' It Like Fred Flintstone
I went bowling Friday night with some crazy muchachas. Their approach to bowling (since we all stink at it) is whoever gets the high score on the round gets to tell everyone how they have to bowl the next round. The Fred Flintstone twinkle toes manuever made an appearance, but my favorite was when they had us lay down on our backs and granny roll the ball from our heads. Mine guttered (that was my groove for the night) but a couple people got strikes and spares that way! I'm happy to report there were no serious bowlers there because I'm sure they would have felt we were unworthy to wear bowling shoes. And if you think it through for a second, that is really insulting.

The good news is that once again, we looked good enough to come home to. Husband came home, and like the conquering hero he is, gave me a two-day neck massage. (I had built up a wee bit of tension. : ) )
Welcome home, Lovey!

Learning Through Repetition

Muhloo(11mo) learned her first word yesterday. She has of course been saying da-da when she's happy and ma-ma when she's upset for quite some time now. (Isn't that the way?) Yesterday however, Muhloo(11mo) said her first bona fide word.

Before I get to that though, I have to get something off my chest. Grocery shopping with a bunch of kids is a hideous experience. Each and every time. Even when my children are such sweethearts that they give the illusion of being proper and dignified little adults who always say please and thank you and help one another reach things on the high shelves, the snooty looks we receive from our fellow patrons are almost always somewhere in the withering-glare/disdain-for-the-scene-just-witnessed spectrum. After casting dispersions on me and my children either facially or vocally as if I'm not standing RIGHT THERE. NEXT TO THEM.- the inevitable comment from every single person I've ever encountered in public is, "You've got YOUR hands full." I am not kidding. EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I hear this so often that for a while I actually had "handsfull" as my password on the websites I frequent- as a rebellion against public condemnation. Where was I? Oh, right. Even when my children are little angels. And let's face it. No child is one of those at all times. Especially not if "all times" happens to occur in the grocery store.

Let me run you through a typical visit to the local grocery store for me.

Find a parking space in teensy-tiny stalls that would render it impossible to open car doors even if you were parked next to a Geo (DARE to dream!)- forget about the roughly 5000 Suburbans parked at this particular grocery store around the clock. Get everyone out of the car. (Usually at this point, though not this week- we cleaned the van out!- we then chase down whatever has unwantedly exited the car with us.) Find a cart. Try to keep an eye on The Pinkiest(7) at all times because you know what she does in situations like this. Put Muhloo's(11mo) carseat in the cart. Argue with Monster Truck(2) about whether or not he is also going to ride in it.
"I WALK." "No, you ride." "I WALK." "[Monster Truck(2)], please come here so I can get you in the cart." "NO. I WALKING." "If you walk YOU HAVE TO STAY BY MOMMY." "I stay by mommy." "All right, fine. Come here. Don't run in the parking lot! Guys! Stay by mom. HEY! CARS CAN'T SEE YOU!!!- Sorry!" (GLARE from disgruntled motorist.) Get into the store.
Little Mommy(9): Mom, can we get one of these carts?
"No."
The Pinkiest(5): Can we get one of these carts?
"I just said 'No'."
Bubba(7): Hey, mom? Can we get a car cart?
"NO!"
(Bubba: Geez. What's her problem?)
Enter the Produce section.
(Now, it's important to understand that one of THE RULES is:

The answer to any and all requests which take place in the grocery store is "NO." unless said request takes place in the Produce section.

-------------ADDENDUM 1-

Unless it is January and the request is for watermelon.

-------------ADDENDUM 2-

Or blueberries. Or raspberries. Or strawberries.

The Pinkiest(5): Hey guys! They have fruit roll-ups over here!

Curse the produce man for selling those things individually! As if I'm going to pay 65 cents per fruit roll-up. I just noticed these new-fangled keyboards don't have the cent sign. I must not have EVER typed that word before.
Everyone: Mom can we have fruit roll-ups?/I ha' fooot woe-wup!/Can I get one?/I want one!/Hey! That's the one I wanted! MO-OM! "No. Nobody is getting fruit roll-ups."

Little Mommy(9): But YOU SAID we could always have anything in the produce department!

Bubba(7): IT'S NOT FAIR.

------------ADDENDUM 3-

Does not include fruit roll-ups. Or any other "froot"-related item.

"HEY! Mr. Yuke(4)! Close the door to the donuts!"

The Pinkiest: Can we get donuts?

"No."

The Pinkiest: Why not?

"Because they're not good for you."

Little Mommy(9): Daddy lets us get donuts.

"No he doesn't."

Little Mommy(9): Well you have before.

"Not today."

Mr. Yuke(4): Pleeeeease.

"No."

Mr. Yuke(4): Why not?

"Because I said 'NO'."

Bubba(7): Hmmph! It's not. FAIR.!!!

Monster Truck(2) just catching on to the exchange that is taking place: I yike donuts! I yike donuts! I have donuts?

"No."

Little Mommy(9): Mommy, can we get some cheese breadsticks for dinner?

"No."

Bubba(7): You never let us have ANYTHING.

"Why don't you go pick out an apple or a pear?- [Monster Truck(2)]! [Monster Truck(2)]! COME. HERE. I told you to stay by mommy."

Bubba(7): I don't WANT pears.

Monster Truck(2), eyes wide: No! No! I don't want ride! I walk by mommy!

At this point we pass the bakery and head for the most unpredictable part of the trip. The meat department. "Guys, stay by mom please." "[Monster Truck(2)]- that's it. You're riding."

Monster Truck(2): NOOOO! NOOOO! I. DON'T. WANT. RIDE!!!!!!!!

"Sorry."
Little Mommy(9): Can we get steak?
"No."
Little Mommy(9): Why not?
"It's too expensive this week."
Little Mommy(9) whines: But I don't like chicken.
"Yes you do, and you know it."
Little Mommy(9): But I want. Steak.
The Pinkiest(5): Here, Mommy. I got some bacon for you.
"Oh. Thank you very much honey, but I don't need any bacon."
Bubba(7): Please can we get bacon?
"No."
Little Mommy(9): But WHHHYYYYYY?
"Because we already have bacon in the freezer and we only eat it like 6 times a year."
Little Mommy(9): Yeah. That's because you never buy it.
"[Monster Truck(2)]! Don't stick your fingers inside of the package of meat!" Ewwwwww. Gross.

And so it goes. "Can we have little cheeses?" "No." "Can we get that spiderman cake?" "No." "Can we buy a lifetime supply of nacho ingredients and ice cream and soda pop?" "No. No. No. No." "Will you give me $15.00 in quarters so I can try to get that Buzz Lightyear Doll out of the Claw machine?" "NO!" (Throw in the inevitable [but gentle] cart collision into an unsuspecting shopper perpetrated by any one of the family while I have turned slightly away from the cart for .2 seconds to reach for an item off the shelf, and you pretty much have our shopping experiences in a nutshell. Oh, and the sickening moment when the checker hits total. Feeding a crew like this is an undertaking and a half, I tell you. I don't know WHAT I will do when I have teenage boys in the house.)


So if you figure that Muhloo(11mo) has been on roughly 1 trip to the grocery store every week since she was 3 weeks old and has heard the word approximately 100 times on each and every one of these adventures into consumership, throw in the very rare occasion that I have to deny someone something unreasonable at home- (sorry, I think I just shot milk out my nose,) is it any wonder that Muhloo's first word is "No."?

She can pronounce it several ways. She experimented with her range on this particular word for an entire day. There's "No.", "NO.", "NO!", and "Newwwwwwwwwwwwwwww"- her personal favorite (and Husband's and mine too). Fortunately she has not (I think) assigned meaning to the word yet. As soon as she does, it will cease to be so cute that we have no power against her (I think I am renaming her Kryptonite(11mo) right here on the spot). At that point I will be thrown into yet another toddler phase that I have to wait out before the child starts saying adorably cute things again. SIGH. They grow up. : (

SIGH! They grow up!!! : )

Home Schoolin'

I recently had an epiphany in which I realized that I should be a librarian when I grow up. I was ecstatic. The long years I've spent narrowing down what I want to do with my life, finally at an end. Now, a path. That starting place, a jumping off point, a direction to a determinded destination. I called That College I Sometimes Go To, to inquire about which classes I could take online while I am waiting for Muhloo(10mo) to go to school. I discovered that Library Science is actually a Masters program. One which, incidentally, is not offered at Said College.

Deep breath. "Okay, well do you have any idea what sort of Undergraduate degree I should pursue with that Masters in mind?"

"Oh, pretty much anything. Of course something with English or Literature is always good, but really any field that interests you would work."

So much for narrowing down what I want to do with my life.

So I go in and meet with an Advisor. She tells me that I can choose between Comparative Literature ( YES!) which she is advising me against (NO!) and English, which she thinks would be my best bet. Why would English be better I ask? Well the Comparative Lit. degree doesn't have any major classes available online. English on the other hand has tons.

"Explain to me the difference between the two."

"Well, Comparative Literature would be studying and comparing literature (oh, really?), while (and this next part came in hushed and reverential tones-) English would be studying the intracacies of the English Language. (Enter the choir of heavenly angels now). Hmmm. I wonder which classes SHE teaches?

The intracacies of the English language. Hmmm. Semicolon 101? I don't think so. Thanks, but I get all the English Language learnin' I need reading the "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. Ok, Comparative Lit it is. And actually I still have some G.E.'s to get out of the way so I can do those online while I wait for Muhloo(10mo) to grow.

Thinking about the general education I am soon to receive at home got me thinking about the general education I have already received there.

Since we're already on English, let's just start there:

Pronunciation of Consonants (PrCn160)-
Me: Wwwww-ipes
Monster Truck(2): Yyyyyyipes.
Me: Wwwwwipes
Monster Truck(2): Yyyyyyipes.
Me: Wwwwwwwww
Monster Truck(2): Wwwww
Me: Good! Do it again!
Monster Truck(2): Wwwwww!
Me: Now say, wwwwwipes.
Monster Truck(2): WwwwwwYipes.

Try to say that. It's really hard.
(Note: Monster Truck(2) graduated this week from wwwwYipes to Lipes. Also, I think speaking toddlerese 6 times earns me a Minor in Foreign Language.)

Zoology 100 (ZooL100)-
Little Mommy(9) informed me today that she is pretty sure she broke her toe at school because she dropped something heavy on it and then just kept "slumping around" all day.

Mr. Yuke(4) popped his knuckle night before last while wrestling with his dad.
Mr Yuke(4): OH NO! I broke my ANKLE BUTTON! It WASN'T WORTH IT!!!!
[I actually think I should get double credit for this one in Drama 120 (Dra120)]

Economics For Small Business (Econ160)-
Me: No one in this family is allowed to charge for breakfast or lunch at school under any circumstances whatsoever. Do you understand me? (Collective nodding of heads.) Charging is not a good practice to get into and we do not have the money for that. I have already talked with the lunch lady. Her computer says you guys can't charge. Okay? (Nodding again.) We have perfectly good food at home you can eat for breakfast and take for lunch. There is no reason ever to charge. Got it? (More nodding.)

-----

Me: What do you mean you owe $10.45 to the school and they're kicking you out in January if you haven't paid it yet?! What have you been doing with ALL THOSE LUNCHES you took to school?! ... Uh huh. ... I see. Well you are paying those charges with the money from your own piggy bank. ... Yes, it is fair. ... No, I provided you with food the first time around when you chose to throw it away. You owe money too?!!! How much do YOU owe? $6.80? How can you owe $6.80? Lunch prices don't even add up to that! (STUPID LUNCH LADY!) You TELL that lunch lady that I want an itemized receipt for that. ... It means a list of all the charges. ... Yes, she can. ... If you can't remember "itemized" then just say 'my mom wants a receipt.'. ...WHAT?!!!! YOU aren't even AT school for lunch time!!! HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY HAVE CHARGES AT SCHOOL?!!! ... Breakfast? You eat breakfast at home. ... I don't CARE if you like french toast better than cheerios, you're not allowed to eat at school without taking money!

I should get an honorary degree in Social Science for that one just on the grounds that no one got maimed. : )

Psychology 210 (Psy210)-
One of Husband's roommates was a Psych major. Not my favorite person come to think of it. The reason for that was that he was constantly doing/saying/encouraging things solely to elicit a reaction and then to analyze all the people involved. The world was his laboratory, the human race his lab rats. In honor of the roommate I'll call Dozen Roses, my psych experiment:

Monster Truck(2): You're taking a BAFF?!!! (Read: Have you LOST YOUR MIND?)
Me: Yep.
Monster Truck(2): Why aye you taking a baff?
Me: Because my back hurts (stupid cheap Walmart junk...).
Monster Truck(2): Because yo-ee back hurts? You takinga baff because yo-ee back hurts?
Me: Mmhm.
Monster Truck(2): Hmm. Nice and Yarm.


I'm also pretty sure I've already earned at least a minor in Children's Literature and probably Early Childhood Development as well. I can offhandedly quote Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein, e.e. cummings, and Mem Fox. Sad, but true.

I've learned how to fix baby beds, action figures, boo-boos and dinners. I've written journals and blogposts and permission slips and excuse notes. I've made costumes and messes and excuses and FHE lessons; done homework and housework and yardwork and God's work. I've made babies and a family. I've made a home.

I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to comtemplate what I wanted to do with my life. In taking the time to contemplate it, I did it.

What The Grinch Stole, The Robbers Gave Back

On Sunday after church, while Bubba(6) was still in his suit and Mr. Yuke(4) was in a white shirt and his underwear ("Call me 'Captain Underpants!"), they went down to the forbidden zone and rummaged through the toys that are out of rotation. (We rotate the toys in the playroom every couple of weeks so that everything gets played with and cleaned on a regular basis. The toys not in the playroom are on shelves in the basement.) Somewhere down there they found swimming goggles. I do not know why we have these. We have never purchased goggles. Ever. Anyway, the obvious course of action when you are in a suit and goggles is to be a bank robber. I didn't know this. I saw them tiptoe-ing up the stairs and inquired what they were sneaking off to do. They turned around, fixed their goggle stares on me, and whispered, "We're robbers." I had a hard time keeping a straight face, not expecting two sets of goggles to be looking at me. When they were upstairs, Husband said, "I don't know what's wrong with this generation. When I was a kid" (doesn't he sound old?) "we always wanted to be the HERO." I answered, "Well they usually do too. But today they couldn't, OBVIOUSLY." Him- "Why not?" Me- "Because 'hey- goggles.'"

You know that I've been under the weather. Extreme Cinnamon Rolls, PT, Husband out of town, exhaustion and morning sickness that lasts all day long (that's the worst misnomer in the English language), kids with flu, threatening miscarriage of twins, etc. We didn't have Thanksgiving really and I just barely did the shopping for Christmas, and we probably aren't going to eat much on Christmas either. If I'm not in the middle of a miscarriage, I will still be sick as a dog and cooking food is the enemy.

We have not put up our tree yet. It's sad and I've missed it but I can only do so much. Right now, "so much" consists of waking up at some point in the a.m., changing diapers, fixing bottles, feeding children, drinking water, catching up on laundry, besides making sure all the kids have clean pajamas to wear to school for "Polar Express Day" and gifts to exchange for their school and church classes. I've got my wife to murder and Gilder to frame for it. I'm swamped. Oh wait- no. I don't have a wife. But I have had all that other stuff going on in addition to the normal December madness. Really, all things considered, I've been pretty okay with not having the tree up. This week was the first chance we've really had to get it out and now- what with being COMPLETELY distracted with worrying about the babies, I just don't feel like it is worth the energy (that I do not have anyway) to drag all that stuff out for just one week. I've pondered the possibility that Christmas is about the Savior anyway so maybe those nice, pretty reminders are not completely necessary and it might be nice to have an old fashioned, spartan Christmas. Well, yesterday someone informed me that not having a Christmas tree is bordering on CHILD ABUSE. I am not making this up. I pointed out that maybe if she thought about all those children who are regularly beaten by their parents, she would realize that not having a Christmas tree is a FAR CRY from that. She asked, "Well how would you feel if you were a kid without a Christmas tree?" I answered, "It came without ribbons, boxes, or bags.... It came. Somehow... it came just the same." (How the Grinch Stole Christmas- Dr. Seuss) No. In spite of the reference to her favorite Christmas book, she would not concede. ("It's IMPORTANT to them!") I told her that I honestly don't think they'll care. I'm pretty sure that all they care about is GETTING STUFF and that isn't going to be a problem. She answered loftily that it is a decision you're just going to have to make. Just like that, with the italics and everything. And now- even though I was fine with not having a tree before (because as I said, I can only do so much), now I feel like garbage.

I was wondering tonight how I am going to focus on The Greatest Gift/the Savior this coming week when every corner of my mind is completely consumed with worrying- and trying not to think about the twins. Then Husband started singing lullaby-hymns to Muhloo(8m). I thought of that little baby in his mother's arms; the one who made it possible for me to hold all my wonderful children in mine. The baby who made it a reality that I will know these children someday, whether in this life or the next. And suddenly, I knew.

All my preoccupation with the possibilities would not matter in the least if it were not for the baby born in Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas.

"goggles" by Julie K in Taiwan; "Golden Christmas" by krisdecurtis

Sweet Potato Queens and Foofs

I love the Sweet Potato Queens. I do. I think Jill Connor Browne is very funny, even though at least half of what she writes is completely inappropriate and not worthy of my time. I am aware of this and I have not read any of her work for several years. Consider her my guilty pleasure- like Superbowl ads, and CNN2 or The Weather Channel are for some other people. In one of her books, Jill talks about how much she loves Deviled Eggs (I know! Eww gross, right?) Anyway, she says she loves to eat them but they are WAY too much of a pain to make "her own self". Her solution to this quandry, is to periodically make the rounds until she can find someone who already has some made up or else will make some for her. It is so lazy and yet, I see the merit of this slacker strategy when I have to, say, change a diaper for the four millionth time in a week or something needs to be ironed. Once upon a time, Little Mommy(9) found this slacker approach particularly satisfying when it came to "Foofs".

"Foof" is the term Little Mommy(9) used (when she was Little Mommy(18m)) for "bubbles". The reference is obvious if you had ever seen her trying to blow bubbles with the little plastic wand from the bottle. She would try over and over again but all she could manage was, "Ffffffff!"- hence, the name. Going "Fffffff!" directed the air from her mouth straight down her chin and almost never resulted in bubbles wafting away on the breeze. She became so frustrated with the whole process that I eventually got out the oscillating fan and showed her how to hold the bubble wand in front of it so that the fan did all the work. The result? A happy 18 month old who requested we play Foofs every single day for nearly three months, and a mom who was not passing out from hyperventilation due to blowing bubbles for 2 straight hours every time, while being pregnant with Bubba(6).

The reason I was reminiscing about Foofs today is that Muhloo(7m) discovered her own version of bubbles this afternoon. She is starting to switch over to baby food and she's pretty excited about it. The trouble is that she also gets bored with the repetitive motions of scoop, open mouth, swallow, repeat. In response to the tedium, today she came up with a way to mix things up a little. She figured out that if she waits to baby-babble right when the spoon is just about to go into her mouth, it blows bubbles in the sweet potatoes and effectively sprays them EVERYWHERE. She wouldn't talk to me when the spoon wasn't at her lips. It was like she was speaking into the microphone. I thought maybe she was not hungry and was therefore more interested in playing with her food than actually eating it. NOT SO. When I tried to gently remove the food items from in front of her, she had a huge fit because she was still hungry, apparently. She just happened to be hungry AND entertaining herself with her lunch at the same time. (Is that a problem?) By the time her interest in eating had dwindled, I had sweet potatoes all over my face, shirt, pants, and hands. Her clothing was remarkably clean, come to think of it. (Maybe I ought to do the rounds and see if someone else in the neighborhood has a hankering for feeding babies?) No, on second thought, I would much rather enjoy this experience "my own self". Getting to be in the stories of The Sweet Bubble Queens and the people who hang around them is so much better than anything Jill Connor Browne has to say. I love being a mom. What more is there?

Photos: "5/19/07 Baby Shower Food" by Nodame; "Untitled" (Bubble Wand) by TeraRoop11; "Deviled Eggs for Easter Dinner" by Tojosan. All photos found on Flickr.com. Incidentally, I had a hard time finding a deviled egg picture that wasn't copyrighted. How weird is that? There were like ten zillion of them but they were all exclusively copyrighted. This is one bizarre cyberworld we live in.