Sea-ing the World Around Us

Santa always brings the kids their very own actual bottle of shampoo every year. Shampoo and toothpaste. These are great stocking stuffers if you have more than two kids (two or less are not so nearly impressed by the "having my OWN" concept). If you're going to give that stuff though, you have to start the tradition before they are old enough to realize how lame it is. This year, each child got a different color bottle of shampoo (so as to avoid the inevitable bloodbath that identical bottles would initiate. ("That's MINE!" "NO! IT'S MINE!" "NO IT'S NOT! IT'S HERS!!!" "HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!" "BECAUSE I SAW MONSTER TRUCK(3) POUR YOURS INTO THE TOILET!" Me: "THEN WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM?!" "I don't know"....)) Anyway, this year everyone got their own flavor in a bottle that is their favorite color. Last week the kids were all comparing scents on shower night. ("Mine smells like berries." "Mine smells like bananas." "Well MINE smells like watermelon.") Monster Truck(3), desperate to jump in and not be left out of the conversation, grabbed his bottle, quickly checked the cartoon picture on the outside, and reported, "Mine smells like dolphins! I love the smell of dolphins. It smells like dolphins, that's why it haves a dolphin. It smells good!" (Just to be clear, the shampoo smells like tangerines. Santa was so busy picking out different color shampoo bottles that Santa didn't notice this particular shampoo is for after SWIMMING- hence the dolphin. Oops.)



Mr.Yuke(5) informed me a couple months back (and several times since then as he's carefully tested his theory-) that the sun (and incidentally also the moon) follows him. Because everywhere he goes, the sun goes. I'm sorry for all of you people who apparently dwell in perpetual darkness because you are not where he is. Anyway, the other night we watched the full moon rise as we drove down the freeway. It was beautiful. (The moon was closer to the earth that night than it will be for the next 2 years.) A little while later when the moon was up higher in the sky, ThePinkiest(6) commented that it was now closer to us than it had been before. Try as I might, I could not convince her that the mo0n was the same distance away as it always is. She knew that I was wrong. Mr.Yuke(5) confirmed her suspicion, thus: "Yeah. It is closer. That's because it saw ME."



2008 was icky. Not just for me, but for a lot of people. In general, I try to be a glass-is-half-full type of person. I avoid activities that make me have a more negative outlook, such as watching the news or having any contact with my dad. It seems though that no matter how I look at it- overall, 2008 stunk. Not just for me. It was a pretty cruddy year for a lot of people. Last year I mentioned that I LOVE the new year- fresh start and all that. As I was pondering the approach of 2009 and cleaning out my closet, I discovered my gratitude journal. This is a book I started four years ago when I was trying really hard to "bloom where I was planted" in That Place I Used To Live, a place which I did not like. The concept of the gratitude journal is simple enough. At the end of the day I write a minimum of 3 things I'm grateful for that day. Some days here at Not Quite the Bradys finding THREE things can be quite challenging. On those days I have written things like- "I'm grateful I could make myself write in this stupid journal."- but I always write in it, no matter what and most days I have plenty to write about. Well, I did I should say. It appears that I sort of stopped writing in it when I lost Baby B, and with the loss of Baby A last January, I just forgot all about it. I had not thought of the gratitude journal once the whole year until I stumbled across the book while doing my get-ready-for-a-new-and-improved-year cleanout. As I was trying to remember the last time I wrote in it, I started thinking that although the events of 2008 were irrefutably bad, my experience probably would have been better had I focused on my blessings more. My New Year's Resolution then, is this: I will try to be more focused on the sweet things in life. I will try to remember the things that matter. Things like: even dolphins smell amazing through the nose of a three-year-old; Santa Claus is real even if he DOES bring toothpaste; and God loves me so much He made the sun follow me wherever I go.

It's going to be a good year. : )

Family: Isn't It About... MINE?

Ever heard of the Toddler Rules of Acquisition? It's a paraody on (I cringe as I type this-) the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition. (Deep Space Nine. A moment of silence for my dignity.) Anyway, the Toddler Rules of Acquistion are as follows:

1. If I like it, it's mine.
2. If it's in my hand, it's mine.
3. If I can take it from you, it's mine.
4. If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
5. If it's mine, it must NEVER appear to be yours in any way.
6. If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
7. If it looks just like mine, it is mine.
8. If I saw it first, it's mine.
9. If you are playing with something and you put it down, it automatically becomes mine.
10. If it's broken, it's yours.

I've always liked that and found quite a lot of truth in it. I was reminded of The Rules recently when MonsterTruck(3) had his birthday. Husband asked him what he would like for a present and without hesitation he anwered, "A lightsaber that is MINE." Poor kid. In early childhood development they will tell you that the reason toddlers are so possessive is because their identity is tied to their belongings. Well, lucky for us he seems pretty well-adjusted because the boy has got nothin'. We have EVERY SINGLE TOY in that famous toy chain worth having at this house. This last Christmas there was nothing in that ENTIRE store that my kids wanted. We did three laps. I'm not kidding. But the problem is, the toys at our house all have owners. The children all share, of course, but when it comes down to it, at the end of the day, those toys belong to individuals. Of which MonsterTruck(3) is apparently not one.

We were more than happy to accomodate his wish for his own light saber. We threw in a Thomas train as well since those all belong to Bubba(7) and Mr.Yuke(4). MonsterTruck(3) was ECSTATIC. He has walked around with a light saber strapped to his underwear every day since then. (Don't ask me where his pants are. All I know is that I put them on him and then they are gone.) Incidentally, underwear doesn't really hold the weight of a light saber very efficiently....

So we got him presents. He was happy. Mr.Yuke(4) was not. Because trains are HIS, see? And so us giving one to MonsterTruck(3) is really quite unacceptable. And why doesn't MR.YUKE(3) have that particular engine? And it's not fair.

There are a lot of things in family life that belong to us. I have realized that although the idea that everything is mine starts in toddlerhood, it really stays with us our whole lives. There is the ever-so-trying period of life from 7-ish to I-don't-know-when that girls think everything in the house is part of their domain and therefore fair game. Like scissors and masking tape and lip gloss. (THOSE ARE MINE.) And computer paper. (HUSBAND'S) And brownie mixes. And....

It's not all possessiveness though. My children are sometimes very generous with their things. Like when I say clean up your room and they all say that those clothes on the floor belong to their beloved sister/brother who they share a room with. It is just really so kind they way they give up their stuff like that. Warms a mother's heart. Or temper- one of those. : )

They are also very generous with fault. Blame is something that is never anyone's "MINE". It is ALWAYS someone else's. The floor must truly bleed jelly. It is the only logical explanation.

We continue the compulsion to claim what is ours even into adulthood. Show me one woman in this country who has given birth who has not at some point or other felt compelled to tell all about their labor and delivery- in detail. I am telling you, she doesn't exist. We all want credit for what is OURS. Even if it's blood, sweat, and tears. Especially if.

We judge comments we hear from others based on our experience. "Yes, that's true with MINE." or "Not with MINE." I recently went to a class on holding effective Family Home Evenings where the teacher (whose lesson was great, by the way) made a comment to the effect of "Your kids idolize you. They want to be you. There is no one they admire more." Forgetting temporarily that her children are 2 and 7 months or something like that, all I could think was, "Are you INSANE? Not MINE." But she does not have a pre-pubescent daughter at the moment. She was teaching from HER perspective. And I was hearing from MINE.

Everywhere I go people are always asking me, "Are these all YOURS?" I have yet to come up with the perfect snarky comeback to that but really? If you had three or four kids, would you round up three MORE to do a little grocery shopping with? Yes. They are all mine- which brings me back to MonsterTruck(3).

A few days after his birthday, he was laying on my bed, looking up at the wall where all the family pictures are. He said, "There's Gwanny, and Gwamma, and Gwampa, and Daddy, and Mommy, and LittleMommy(9), and Bubba(7), and Mr. Yuke(4), and Kryptonite(1), and ThePinkiest(5), and MoneyBags, and Sumping.... Those is MY PEOPLE." Looks like he had something to identify himself with before the light saber after all.

Yeah. Those IS my people. That's who I am. And I'm so glad they're MINE.

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

Gratitude and Retractions

In honor of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for-

1. My Husband
2. My Family
3. My Mom
4. Church
5. A home
6. Food to eat, clothes to wear, a place to sleep,
7. Friends
8. The Internet
9. That I didn't open my RIGHT hand,
10. Reconnecting with an old friend through MySpace
11. Chick flicks
12. Chocolate
13. Cell phones
14. The Internet
15. Amish work days
16. Good Neighbors
17. Bottled water (the water where I live tastes like poison.)
18. My Beautiful
19. Pizza
20. The blessings of Tithing
21. Hot showers
22. My piano
23. Music
24. The Olers (although they are both friends and family)
25. Muhloo(7m) who is the best baby in the world
26. Dual automatic sliding doors
27. Good Books
28. The Durfeys

I would like to retract any negative things I posted about my mom on this blog months and months ago before anyone but me was reading it. I love her and I don't know what I'd do without her. You should all be so lucky.

Also, if anyone read my entry about the Pil-gruhm feast at school, apparently the Indian Nation or whatever they are called, lobbyed for the segregation. I guess unlike everyone else, they don't want to be integrated because the white man stole their land. So, yay for segregation I guess.

Sing. Sing a song.

The Pinkiest(5)(singing to herself in the car. Loudly.): "The Indians and the Pil-gruhms decided to have a par-tay,

The Indians and the Pil-gruhms decided to have a par-tay,

The Indians and the Pil-gruhms decided to have a par-tay, --"

Me: How was your pow-wow, honey?

The Pinkiest(5): "The Indians and--"

Fine.

"The Indians and the Pil-gruhms--"

Me: What did you do?

The Pinkiest(5): Well, we ate swedish fish and goldfish crackers- 'cuz that's what they ate at Thanksgiving. And jerky. "-- The Indians and the Pil-gruhms decided to have a par-tay--"

Me: Swedish fish?

The Pinkiest(5): Yeah. "--And they decided to have a tur-kay for their PAR- TAAAAAYYY!!!

Me: Hmm. Big finish. Wow. The Council of Native American Tribes would be so proud.