The Truth About Cupid

Mr. Yuke(5) came to us this year and asked us straight out, "Dad. I want to know. Now TELL ME THE TRUTH; DOES the Easter Bunny exist?"
Us: Well, what do you think?
Mr.Yuke(5): I think it's YOU GUYS.
Us: Hmmm.... Well-
Mr.Yuke(5): Yeah. I knew it. And Santa Claus is you too.
Me: Ok. Yes. You're very smart. (He's only a baby!!!) : ( But remember the fun you had all the years you were little and you believed they were real?
Mr.Yuke(5): Yeah.
Me: Well, wouldn't it be fun for MonsterTruck(3) and Kryptonite(2) to get to believe that when they're little too?
Mr.Yuke(5): Yeah...?
Me: So it really wouldn't be nice to tell them and take that fun away. WOULD IT?. So if you do, the Easter Bunny will not bring you ANYTHING.
Mr.Yuke(5): Ok.
He goes upstairs.
Approximately 27 seconds later-
ThePinkiest(6): MOM!!!! DAD!!!! IS IT TRUE THAT YOU GUYS ARE THE EASTER BUNNY CUZ THAT'S WHAT MR.YUKE(5) SAID!!!
Us: Well, what do you think?
ThePinkiest(6) deep in thought: Are you Santa Claus too?
Us: What do you think?
ThePinkiest(6): DOES THIS MEAN THERE IS NO CUPID?!!!!
Us: ??????

Don't worry, honey. You'll still fall in love one day. I promise.

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.

Kidspeak

I haven't posted in a while. I have been sleeping. On top of the morning sickness I have a bladder and kidney infection. I've been sleeping a lot. Also, when I have morning sickness, life becomes very UNfunny.

I'm going to Women's Conference this week so I won't be posting for a few days.

____________________________


Mr.Yuke(4): I have muscles. (flexes)
Me: Those are your bones; your ribs.
Mr.Yuke(4): BUT- I call them my biggest muscles in the entire world. ("flexes" his ribcage at me)

____________________________


ThePinkiest(5): Mommy, Antarctica is at the tippy bottom of the earth.

____________________________


Me noticing it has suddenly gotten quiet: What are you guys doing?
Silence.
Me: Mr.Yuke(4), MonsterTruck(2), Come in here.
Mr.Yuke(4): What?
Me: What were you guys doing?
Mr.Yuke(4): Ummmmm.... Just looking at this. (Holds up the arm of a Star Wars figure.)
Me dubious: That's all?
Mr.Yuke(4): Yeah.
MonsterTruck(2): We dis' hidin' our pwetzels.
Mr.Yuke(4): GROAN!!!! MonsterTruck(2), why did you do that?
Me: NO. PRETZELS.
Mr.Yuke(4): exasperated sigh.

___________________________


The next day-
Mr.Yuke(4): Daddy! Daddy! We got you birthday presents! Come in so you can open your presents of ties and chocolate!!!
TheRestofUs: Mr.Yuke(4), you're not supposed to tell what's in the presents!
Mr.Yuke(4): Oh. (Turns to dad-) I was just kidding. Open your presents and see what's in them.

Thicker Than Water

I told you one of the reasons I hadn't posted in a while. Morning sickness. Well I didn't tell you the other, much more dreaded, reason: "Spring" Break. That's right. I said "Spring". I put those quotation marks there because I meant them. This is NOT Spring. This is a gross, second-verse-same-as-the-first repeat of winter. Only with more days of snow. Like today for example. The thick wet stuff has taken the last shreds of patience not consumed by my children and frozen it. Maybe someone will find it in like 50 billion years.

"Spring" Break was not the much anticipated end to our cabin fever, but 4 and a half days of mother nature mocking my pain. With all six kids. We had wonderful plans. We were going to go up the canyon and have a fire and roast hot dogs for lunch one day. We were going on a picnic to a really cool park another day. We were going to get donuts and go walk around ThatUniversityThatISometimesGoTo another day. It was going to be great. Instead, we stayed home. Inside. And tried to stay warm. How do you stay warm during a snowy spring break, you ask? Watch movies, of course.

We watched a lot of movies. I didn't even hold my kids to the normal rules about television usage. Normally, we have a very efficient system where the kids have to budget their media time. This is how it works: At the beginning of the week, usually during Family Home Evening, we give each of the kids 6 blue tickets with the date written on them. Each of these tickets represents 20 minutes of t.v./wii/computer/internet time. They may use them when their chores and homework are finished and can use them all at once or spread them out over the week. If more than one kid is watching a movie, the one who chooses the movie pays the tickets. At the end of the week the tickets expire. They can't be used the next week. That means if they didn't do their chores/homework, they might not get any t.v. time that week. They also have the opportunity to be awarded white tickets at any time. White tickets are given for any good/kind behavior that Husband or I observe. The kindness has to be done for the sake of being kind, not trying to "earn" a ticket. These tickets never expire. That means they can stockpile them and have a 6 hour wii fest if they want to. The white tickets have the kids names on them and we put all the spent white tickets into a jar. When the jar gets filled up we are going to do something really special as a family (trip, amusement park, etc.) and whichever child has the most tickets in the jar will also receive a treat (dinner and a movie, tea party, horseback riding, etc.) It all sounds very complicated but it's really quite simple. What it boils down to is that my kids don't spend a whole lot of their time on brain-rotting, and occasionally they feel slightly more inclined to do their chores and homework.

This is not our only system. We also have allowances and Saturday Fun. Allowances are simple: they are paid on a daily basis for completing their chores. Each day they get everything done, they get paid. Saturday Fun is an incentive program. Every Saturday, everybody who got all their work/homework done by dinnertime every day of that week gets to go to a super activity: Saturday Fun. This can be anything from a picnic/slumber party in the living room floor to Disney on Ice to Monster Trucks. It sort of depends on the budget. The vague idea behind it is "the family that works together plays together". All the family members who did their part in the overall work get to play. We have had some really good times, especially on those weeks when everybody gets Saturday fun. The thing I like about these two systems is that if you have a day when you don't do what you're supposed to and you have to miss Saturday Fun, you still get paid for all those other days.

So anyway, during "Spring" Break, I didn't require the kids to pay tickets for their t.v. usage.
After their normal after-school chores there was not much else to do for the rest of the day and I was feeling too sick to try to mediate art supplies or cookie ingredients for that many people. We watched A LOT of movies. Over and over. And over. One of the movies we watched several times is Herbie Fully Loaded with Lindsay Lohan. It's about Maggie Peyton, a girl who has just graduated from college and is on the verge of starting a new life outside of the stockcar racing world, much to the happiness of her father. Her family is a racing dynasty and more than anything, Maggie wants to be the next great Peyton. "Racing is in [her] blood." I think watching "Kirby" (as MonsterTruck(2) calls it) sleeping, and riding my kids to get their chores done were the only things I did the entire week. Oh, and a book report for MyOwnPersonalDharma (see my very brief review here).

Well, as it turned out, ThePinkiest(5) did not get her chores done. At all. The entire week. Because she didn't want to. And because kids- like wolves- can smell weakness and know when their mother is not going to fight too hard or too long. (My first trimester is always a disaster.) I'm pretty sure ThePinkiest(5) was sneaking in to watch "Kirby" every single time I dozed off. Well, the kids know exactly what to expect when Saturday rolls around if their chores aren't done and because of this, ThePinkiest(5) knew she had less chance of Saturday Fun that week than we had of a warm, sunny afternoon.

Husband was getting the kids together who were leaving to go have dinner and ice cream sundaes at a restaurant when it started. The drama. Screaming/Whining/Crying/Begging, "Daddy, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaase let me have Saturday Fun! Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaase!!!!!!"

Husband: I'm sorry, but you didn't get your chores done. That was a decision you made. Maybe next time.
ThePinkiest(5): But Daddy!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeeeaaase! I NEED Saturday Fun.
Husband: No, sorry. Come on guys, let's get ready to go.
ThePinkiest(5) throwing herself at his feet: Yes I do!!! I NEEEEED IT!
Husband removing his feet from under her: Not this time.
Me: No one NEEEEEDS Saturday Fun.
ThePinkiest(5): I. Need. to have. Saturday. Fun. "It's in my blood."
Me: Is she quoting "Herbie"?
Husband snickers: Yeah.
ThePinkiest(5) as Husband and some kids go out the door: Saturday. Fun. is in. my. blood.!!!

A Series of Unfortunate Events

First off-

a.k.a. Deaf Girl
Sorry, ArtisticallySpecificTastes. The video clip is of an amazing rendition of the National Anthem, hence all of the basketball players in the background. They sound like professional singers in their 30's and they're singing a lot of really tight harmonies. It sounds similar to that Christmas cd your sister MoneyBags likes so much. You know, the one with the family of girls singing, some of whom she knows? Only, these harmonies are more complicated and jazzish than that. Oh, and please tell your deaf friends not to send me those emails. Thank you.


Second-

I Forgot My Shirt
No, I'm not sitting here typing in the buff. I forgot my shirt last week. Let me back up.

Phone ringing yesterday.
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi [Aberjaber], it's Angie.
Me yay! but weird, she's never called me before: Hi! How are you?
Angie: I'm fine. I'm calling because I was wondering if you know- Is the bus going to pick up the kids for the field trip tomorrow, and do you know what time?
Me Huh? Field trip? I didn't know she had a kindergartener. I thought her sons were either older or younger than that. Field trip! Crap! I forgot! I guess maybe the Two Dollars fiasco before had its advantages: Ummmmm. Field trip. Right. That's tomorrow. Yyyyyeah. Welllll, I don't know if the bus is coming or at what time if it is, but I'm actually going on that field trip. (Crap, I have to get a babysitter!) (Thank you Valenzoo!) If you want I could just take him with me when I go.
Angie: Are you sure you don't mind?
Me hey I could get my shirt back at the same time: No, it's fine. Also, I accidentally left my shirt in your car last week.
Angie: Your shirt?
Me: Yeah, the black commando one (I took with me when we were behaving like juvenille delinquents) that I never changed into...(?) I left it in the back of your car, I think...(?)
Angie: ???? My car?
Me understanding dawning: Wait, which Angie is this?
Angie: This is Angie _____.
Me: OHHHHH!!!! Yeah. Different Angie. Different car. You sounded like Angie _____. Um, I can still take your daughter to school if you want.
Angie: Ok. I was going to say, I don't think you've ever even seen my car.
Me: No, you're right. Sorry about that.

Ange- when you read this, I left my shirt in your car. Thank you.

There's Just Something About Field Trips

A few years back, LittleMommy's(4) preschool class attended a field trip at the fire station. I had attended the same field trip the previous year and knew I would be attending it again the following 2 years. Yep. The Bunch didn't overachieve when it came to spacing 'em out. So anyway, when I discovered that Husband was going to have the day of the field trip off from work, I asked if he would pretty please take the kids so I could have a little break. He agreed and so I set off on my little break. ArtisticallySpecificTastes and I were going to Target to spend my birthday giftcard and ooo and ahh over the jewellry. I love earrings. I think I'll say that again. I. LOVE. EARRINGS.

So I went and picked up my favorite AZ shopping partner. I hung out and ate her mom's Lucky Charms for a long time while she got ready to go. Just after we got into the store, a storm began as they only do in Arizona, and we discussed how lucky I was to NOT be on the field trip. I said it was a good thing the field trip was almost over. After about half an hour of "perusing the merchandise" (read it with a Brooklyn accent- threw that in there for you, Kretha)- there was a roll of thunder so loud that ArtisicallySpecificTastes asked me what it was. (Did I mention she is DEAF? Well she is. Completely, all the way, she-don't-hear-no-thunder-deaf.) I told her what it was and her eyes got really big. One of us- and I can't rightly say who it was now, but I think it was me- remarked, "I hope the lightning didn't hit anyone's house." (At certain times of the year, lightning is a pretty common starter of house fires in Arizona. I think it comes from the fact that they plant these stupid trees:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/84077434@N00/378102058/

All the photos I found of them were copyrighted so I couldn't embed them. If you were too lazy/in a hurry (and what mom isn't?) to click on the link, I'll sum it up in two words: lightning rod.)

So anyway, I felt bad for the inevitable catastrophe that some poor family was experiencing. We left the store about half an hour later and I went home. Imagine my dismay when I discovered that, sure enough. One of them dern trees was struck by lightning and started a fire. In my carport. And apparently the firetrucks had just left. The tree was burned and the roof on that side of the house was a little charred, but when all was said and done, the neighbors and Husband had all acted quickly, hosing down the house to keep it from igniting and everything was ok. (ish.) The firemen put out the fire, my carport was flooded with mystery foam which had come from their hoses, and my kids were shaken up, but thought it was cool to see the firefighters in action so up-close-and-personal just ten minutes after their trip to the fire station. After a little while, Husband proceeded to tell me how, when the children were permitted to walk through the firetruck, LittleBoyBlau(4) took off the emergency break and put that puppy into gear. The firetruck started rolling. In a crowd of twenty 4 year-olds and their parents and younger siblings. Husband acted fast and scooped up two kids who were inches away from getting squished under the big red truck. So many brushes with death, all before 11 am!

Today, The Pinkiest(5)'s kindergarten class had a field trip to both the grocery store AND the fire station. Apparently the school in This Place That I Live takes a one-stop shopping approach to field tripping. There were about 100 kids and roughly 1 adult for every 4 kids. There was also a teacher on each bus, and two buses went. (4 classes went on the field trip. We have half day K here.) One bus went to the fire station first, the other went to the store.

We went to the store first. We got there, the store took a group photo of all the kids to print out and give them at the end of their tour, and then they divided us into three groups. Each group was given a tour guide and sent to a different area of the store.

Now, before I go on, I would like to say I am well aware of what normally happens on these sorts of trips. MyOwnMother taught kindergarten and did this trip every year for almost ten years. Also, I worked in 2 different grocery stores for a period of three years. I've got the 411 on kindertrips to the grocery store. Normally, they show the kids the loading docks, the area where the produce is washed and banded before it is put out, the trash compacter, the area where the meat is processed, the fryers for the deli counter, and the area in the bakery where the ovens and proofers are. They give the kids a cookie, answer questions, and send you on your way.

Let me tell you how our tour went.

Our group was sent to the Pharmacy first. There, a store manager told the kids how they should NEVER take medicine that they find. Or take more than one vitamin. Or take their siblings' antibiotics. (All good info, but not quite sure why we had to come to the store to learn that.) Next, she walked us over to the section with all the cosmetics and showed the kids the c.c.t.v. cameras in the ceiling, and admonished the kids NOT TO STEAL MAKEUP AND STUFF THAT COSTS MORE THAN FOOD (Things less than food are fine?! Food is ok?!) because there are cameras all over the place in every store you ever go into and they will see you if you steal. See them? There they are? You can look at Walmart or Sears or anyplace you go and find the cameras that ARE WATCHING YOU. (I thought about how although I know those cameras are there, I still occasionally pick a wedgie if it's really bothering me and I'm in an aisle alone. I've got to stop doing that. THEY. ARE. WATCHING. YOU.) The lady was super cute and perky and good at talking to the kids. BUT- after her anti-suicide/theft speeches, she "turned [us] over to Carolyn" for the rest of the tour.

Carolyn was TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren. She was mean to the kids and reminded me of the teacher on Pete's Dragon. Seriously. And when the little 5 year-olds didn't make 2 perfect lines in front of her, she clapped her hands real loud and looked at them like they were tomorrow's muggers and rapists. She took them into the refrigerator and the freezer and snapped at the kids, then explained to the adults which products were on sale. She took us to the seafood section. There BrianTheSeafoodGuy told us about how there are farms where they grow sea creatures so as not to deplete the ocean's resources and if we go home and search on the internet for "Aquaculture" we can learn all about it. (This was the interesting part of the tour. I thought I should tell you, since I doubted you'd figure it out on your own.) Then TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren regaled the kids with the tale of how she had never had KingCrab before in her life until last year when she went up to Alaska on a fishing boat and they caught crabs (don't go there) and prepared them and ate them and EVERYTHING...! Then she got even grumpier because the expected reaction of awe and wonder was instead blank stares that said, "Whats a Laska?" and "My Uncle has a boat." and "I need to go potty." She stomped over to the bakery section where the baker guy was going to demonstrate to the kids how they decorate the cakes. He opened a mylar package, pulled out a pre-printed, thick, leathery-looking, sugar thing and plopped it on the cake. Then he did a real fancy job of putting a seashell border around two cakes in two minutes flat. And that is why I don't buy cakes at Said Grocery Store. They always appear to have been completed in two minutes. And that is not a good thing. (And how come you have to order your cake a week in advance? He did TWO cakes in two minutes. What are they doing for the other 604,798 minutes of that week? Just wondering.) BakerJose was actually very nice to the kids and talked to them on their level, but his demonstration was ruined somewhat by the constant peppering of comments from TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren. Things such as, "DON'T TOUCH!" "STOP TOUCHING!" "BACK UP!" "YOU KIDS NEED TO BACK. UP.!" and my personal favorite, "YOU MAY NOT COUGH ON THE CAKE!!!!" After the cake decorating, came the highlight of the trip. TheSurlyTourGuideWhoHatesChildren took us to the produce section. And this is what she said:

SurlyTourGuide: These are fruits and vegetables. You need FIVE servings of fruit and vegetables each day. Right? Now. There are two kinds of food. Living food and DEAD food. DEAD food has been cooked. Living food has not. Living fruits and vegetables are good for you. I'll tell you- if you eat DEAD food all the time, you ARE GOING TO GET CANCER. If you eat LIVING food, you'll NEVER get cancer.

Kids: !!!! : O

Parents: !!!! : O

SurlyTourGuide: Green vegetables have chlorophyll. That means it's good for you, if you don't turn it into a DEAD food. This is cabbage. These are strawberries. You need yellow vegetables for your eyes. What color is this cantaloupe?

FiveKidsWhoAreStillSortOfListening: OR-ANGE!!!

SurlyTourGuide: Uh, right. So you need yellow vegetables for your eyes. And orange ones. (Walks over to the carrots, picks one up, breaks it in half.) You can always tell which part of your body something is good-for by what it looks like. See the end of that carrot? It looks like your eye.

Kids and Me: ? : o

SurlyTourGuide: See? Right here?

Kids squinting: ???

Me: I wonder which part of your body potatoes look like?

SurlyTourGuide: You want candy, eat peas. That's God's candy right there.

Me: Please let this end soon.

SurlyTourGuide: This is a red pepper. This is an orange pepper. Isn't that beautiful? This is a jalepeno pepper. It cleans your blood.

Kids: : O

SurlyTourGuide: Yup. Them Mexicans use this and cilantro. Cilantro has wonderful, wonderful properties. That's how they stay healthy.

Me: I wonder if she thinks no one in Mexico has cancer?

SurlyTourGuide: This is broccoli. What does broccoli have?

Kids afraid to answer her at this point: Leaves? Little bally thingies? Rubberbands?

SurlyTourGuide: Chlorophyll.! I TOLD YOU. disgusted sigh of exasperation See this orange? Is it cooked?

Kids meekly: Noooo.

SurlyTourGuide: That's right. It's not DEAD food. It's Living food. AND THAT MEANS it's good for you. You remember that.

As we left the store for the fire station, I wondered how many 5/6 year-olds were going to refuse to eat their vegies at dinner tonight. Certainly more than last night. Then I wondered what sort of craziness was going to take place during our fire station experience.

At the fire station we learned to STOP. DROP. AND ROLL. Then, Alex (a kid in ThePinkiest's (5) class), gave a ten minute dissertation on how to check your bedroom door to see if it's hot and then throw a fire ladder out your window and climb down- complete with miming. The fire safety instructor ended with how "houses in [this city we live in] almost never catch on fire because they are built so safely these days." On our way from the fire safety room to see the fire engine, they firemen got called out to a house fire. So much for "almost never catching fire". Luckily, they had double-scheduled firefighters today just in case this happened. I'm thinkin' maybe house fires aren't quite as unusual as he was letting on.

I watched the kids go through the cab of the firetruck, keeping an eye on them to see that nobody put it into gear. After we saw everything in the truck and got the explanation of why firefighters carry Costco-size buckets of kitty litter, we went to Corbin, the EMT. Fire Fighter Corbin showed the kids all the stuff in the ambulance and even took the pulse-ox. of every single kid there. By then we were freezing because, it is NOT balmy out today. And fire station garages make great wind tunnels.

When we finally got home (with Angie ____'s daughter, not Angie ____'s son), I got to see that the call they got for the house fire was NOT for my house. What a relief! I guess the trip to the fire station was uneventful this time. Thank goodness.

I don't know what else to say, other than I'm ready to swear off field trips forever.

All On His Own

Teaching our kids self reliance has always been very important to us. Probably because we are both first-borns, doing stuff for ourselves is something that we both put a high value on. With the exception of letting the babies feed themselves in the high chair, I encourage our children to do anything for themselves that they can. (Once I got past 2 kids I just couldn't stand the high chair/floor/wall/kid mess every meal. Especially with Monster Truck(2) as he truly believed for almost a full year that the reason God put hair on his head was so he'd have a nice abrasive surface to clean off his hands with. I could be standing there with a washcloth wiping one hand and he would still be carefully cleaning the other hand on the top of his head.)

The results of our children's independence are sometimes funny, (Mr. Yuke(4) putting his jeans on backwards so he's walking around with a fly on his bum all day long) and sometimes scary. (The Pinkiest(5) recently "learned" to put her own ponytails in her hair and is now refusing help. The knots around her rubber bands make me cringe when I see them but she is so proud of herself she won't even consider letting me adjust them.) Most of the time they do great. Our kids make their own lunches (the three older ones), make their own beds (some of you may not think this is a big deal, but I can't tell you how many moms I know who make their kids' beds every day), and sort their own laundry. They also each help make dinner one night a week. I have to admit that this is the one that I find the most challenging. Anyway, all this self-reliance gives them a lot of confidence. They all feel very capable no matter what the situation. Such was the case the other day.

Monster Truck(2) decided he was hungry and would like a snack. Without mentioning anything about it to me, he went down to the kitchen, pulled a chair over to the pantry, got down the Kix cereal and proceeded to fix himself a bowl. See that white stuff? It's not milk.

Did I mention he REALLY likes sugar?

I Have A Dream

At the start of every new year, our family spends one of our family home evenings reviewing and making goals. We go over our family long term goals, assess how we did the previous year on our family short term goals, and set new short term family goals for the current year depending on what we need to work on. (e.g.- prepare for church on Saturday, etc. Have you ever tried to get six kids dressed and out the door? It takes at least 48 hours.) We put all of the long- and short-term goals on a poster that we put up on the dining room wall where everyone can see it. We then are able to review our progress every few weeks. Those of you who knew me from way back when- aren't you impressed? Who new I had a left half to my brain? Anyway, after discussing the family goals, each member of the family also chooses one personal goal to work on for the year. We hope that it will be something geared toward self-improvement (e.g.- The Pinkiest chose getting up on time in the morning for this year), but sometimes it is a skill we would like to acquire. (Potty-training, shoe-tying, etc.)

This year, Little Mommy(9) chose learning to ice skate as her personal goal which I felt was a stretch and I suspect is just a ploy to get some recreational time without having to earn it by getting her chores done. We let it go because we want to be supportive and not discourage the kids from setting goals for themselves- in spite of the nature of her choice.

We went down the line asking each child what their goal would be for this year. When we got to Mr. Yuke(4), he didn't have one in mind. Husband suggested learning to ride a bike without training wheels. Mr. Yuke(4) jumped up and said breathlessly and with reverence, "Ok. But when I grow up, I want to be-

a baker of chicken burritos."

Bedtime Tourette's and Music to My Ears

Every night when it's time to get ready for bed, we go through the same routine. At 7:00, everyone gets their p.j.'s on, brushes their teeth, the girls put their hair up so it doesn't get all tangled in the night, and everyone comes downstairs. They all (even Monster Truck(2)) write in their journals while we read aloud for half an hour. Currently we are reading The Tale of Despereaux. At the end of reading time, we sing a song, say a prayer together as a family, and everyone gets to choose a book to take to bed. They read in bed quietly for another half an hour. Then they say their own prayers, get tucked in, and it's lights out. And then I check to make sure the carbon monoxide detector is still working because clearly I am hallucinating. This is the routine that we all agreed to as a family and is posted on the dining room wall. It's the routine that is a thing of beauty once every new moon. The one which is nearly always the same that I referred to up there at the beginning is:

At 7:00 I say, "Okay, guys. Go get ready for bed." They all run (shrieking at the top of their lungs) up the stairs like a pack of howler monkeys and proceed to do any- and every- thing. Except get ready for bed. They laugh and I yell, "Get ready for bed." They fight and I say, "Get your p.j.'s on!" Someone gets hurt and I yell, "It wouldn't have happened if you weren't screwing around. Get ready for bed." (Fill in the blank) comes downstairs and says, "I can't find my toothbrush." After about ten minutes of intermittent reminders from me to "GET READY FOR BED!", I call everyone downstairs for journals, etc. and send whichever two children who are still wearing their jeans and t-shirts back upstairs to get their jammies on. For real this time. ("GET READY FOR BED!") The kids who are in p.j.'s get sent back upstairs to really brush their teeth this time. ("GET READY FOR BED!") The child whose toothbrush is lost and (if by some miracle there IS a child who did what was expected) the child who is ready for bed get out their journals and write or draw about their day depending on the age of the child. ("GET READY FOR BED!") If Mr. Yuke(4) is one of these children, there is a predictable conversation about how our journals are not regular art paper and he needs to just use one page each day and if he wants to do some artwork while we read he needs to get some different paper. When everyone finally comes downstairs truly ready for bed, we are out of time for reading, writing, or singing. The children who didn't get to journal have a hissy fit to which I answer that they chose to use up their time acting like pygmies upstairs. We have a prayer and I send them to bed. And then one or the other of them inevitably asks me with an angel face and puppy dog eyes to "Tuck them in? Please?" (music to my ears) and once again my heart melts and I tuck everyone in (because of course one or the other of us is going to do that every night). And I sit down and sigh at my sweet little people and how much I love them. And then Little Mommy(9) comes out and says that (random body part) hurts. EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. And it's never the same one either. And it's never hurts until it's time to go to sleep. And Mr. Yuke(4) needs a drink. And then The Pinkiest(5) needs one too because it's NOT FAIR if Mr. Yuke(4) gets one and she doesn't. And then Monster Truck(2) doesn't WANT to be in bed and Little Mommy(9) has some other random pain. And she wants to know what exactly is going to be done about it?! And then I tell them that the next person out of bed is going to be dead meat and I better not hear one more peep out of anyone. And then it's quiet.
And then Monster Truck(2) gets out of bed again. For the 27th time.

Last night Husband called during this period of chaos and I really miss him so I kept him on the phone and conversed softly with him while all this was going on. The result was that after a few minutes he said, "It sounds like you have 'Go to bed!' Tourette's. Because of this, I started playing some Christmas music on the piano in an effort to drown them out while I talked to him as the kids were (NOT) getting ready for bed. One of the songbooks I have is a hand-me-down from my mom called "A Peanuts Christmas" (Snoopy). She went through a Peanuts phase in the 70's which she does not remember. Anyway, the book is just basically a bunch of easy Christmas carol arrangements with pictures of Peanuts characters on the tops of the pages. Being the token ready-for-bed-child, The Pinkiest(5) was sitting on the piano bench next to me, listening to the music. I stopped playing after a couple songs and Little Mommy(9) came bolting down the stairs and said, "Mommy, will you please play more Peanuts Christmas Songs?" The Pinkiest(5) got a funny look on her face, pulled her fingers out of her mouth and said, "Penis Christmas Songs?"

"Twinkle, twinkle little star, do you know how loved you are?"

Cuts Above the Rest

Books this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. The OBVIOUS: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (although I thought the Epilogue was stupid.) Forgive me, but I thought the link unnecessary. Everyone in the free world (and probably quite a few in the unfree world too-) knows about the Harry Potter books.


2. The Twilight Series- Juvenille but so enjoyable


3. America the Beautiful- it's a picture book with the words of the song and beautiful watercolors throughout. The cover-art is terrible but don't let it put you off opening it if you ever get the chance.

Blogs this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. The Blog of Unnecessary Quotation Marks- totally funny if you have a fundamental working knowledge of punctuation.


2. The Pokemon Card Lady- I sent a lot of you the link to her post on ebay. Turns out she has a blog which is also pretty funny.

Movies this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. Hairspray- Loved it, can't say enough about it. Way better than the first one (which was ok).


2. Live Free or Die Hard- Surprised? A cut above all the other Die Hards and a very pleasant surprise. Incidentally, if you go to rent it, you will only find the "unrated" edition. This is ok because once you put it in you get to select whether you watch it rated PG-13 or the unrated way.


3. The Lake House- I really liked this one too but it's not one you can scrapbook to. It requires your undivided attention. Also, this is not a good one for watching over and over again.

Events this year that were a cut above the rest:

1. Amish Work Day


2. Husband's promotion


3. Monster Trucks


4. Family Reunion in Milltown

Hairdos this year that were cut above the rest:

(Hear the record scratch?)

Yep. You heard me right. Little Mommy(9) strikes again. In an effort to NOT clean her room, she did any- and every- thing else she could possibly think of instead. When she ran out of ideas she just got "sick of [The Pinkiest's(5) ] bangs hanging down in her eyes" so she HAD to cut them. (Incidentally, it may be relevant to know that The Pinkiest(5) has been growing out her bangs forever. Since the last time they were cut by a not professional.) It's sad really. Her hair was getting so long and pretty that people were starting to comment on it everywhere we went. So now, The Pinkiest(5) has bangs between 3/4 of an inch to one inch long- depending on where you're looking, which start just behind her ear on one side and go to above her temple on the other side. Plus that one other piece. It looks terrible. I'm afraid we're going to have to just cut off the lot of it and start over. At the very least she is going to need a bob. I'm guessing it'll be shorter than that.

My personal feelings about how to handle this situation are that Little Mommy(9) should have to get her hair cut in the same style as The Pinkiest(5). Considering that this is her fifth infraction with a pair of scissors and "hair" of some variety, I think it only fitting. I'm willing to give her the first three which happened between the ages of 2 and 4, but the most recent one was last year and well- to me, the fact that she is now 9 makes this pretty inexcuseable. (By the way, the reason "hair" is in quotation marks is because one incident involved several victims from Mother-in-Law's doll collection, most of which have yarn for hair. Or used to.) Now, last year when she cut her own hair to the scalp in a three inch square patch, I told her she was going to have to get it cut short like a boy while it was growing out. I would put mousse in it and make it curly and we could tie ribbons around her head and maybe it would still look really cute. The workers at the Beauty Shop however, all thought this was cruel and talked me out of it. I think now the time has come because I, like Gracie Lou Freebush, believe in harsher punishments for parole violators. What do you think?

The good news is that The Pinkiest's(5) hair won't be a total waste. *Shelbie needs a wig and I heard her family is collecting hair donations. Since The Pinkiest(5) and Shelbie are both blondies and The Pinkiest's(5) hair is so long, hopefully they will be able to use her hair to help. (See below for info on Shelbie.)

The only other cut I want to mention in this post is the one on my self. It has been put above the rest as well. Above the laundry, the cooking, the hair fixing, the bathroom cleaning. (DANG! Maybe I don't want to get better.... No, wait. I guess I do.) Anyway, this week, I got to cut down to having PT ONLY TWICE A WEEK!!!! This is very exciting news. I played some Clementi on Tuesday, and it was not horrible. And also, I am typing like a real person right this very minute.- Only it hurts more. So today I looked around and realized that it was time to stop putting my cut above the rest. I did a load of dishes (turns out- that is still pretty challenging. I can't grasp things very well.), cleaned a toilet, walked Mr. Yuke(4!) to preschool while pushing the stroller and everything, and then sat down to blog. Because let me tell you- when you've put your cut above the rest for a month and a half, there is a ton of crap to do and I have no idea where to even start- so I'd rather just blog about it instead. And there is no rest when there is a cut. I guess I'd prefer it this way though. I've had about enough of resting for a while.

*Shelbie is an amazing little girl who is 9 years old. A while back she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. They did a surgery where they went in through her eye and removed it. The biopsy came back as cancerous. Later they removed a second tumor. They thought she was in remission at that point. However, just recently they discovered a new tumor on her brainstem that is inoperable. Because of this, Shelbie has started an 18-month course of chemotherapy which I think is going to be either followed by or overlapped with radiation treatments.

Shelbie's lifelong dream is to be a cheerleader. Specifically, she wants to cheer with the 49'ers cheerleaders at one of their games. I wonder how many degrees of separation there are between me and someone who could make that happen?

Through everything, she has remained positive and sweet. All this is remarkable, but the real reason Shelbie is remarkable is that she has attended Church and Primary/Activity Days as often as possible for the last year without her parents. She gets rides with neighbors or the Primary presidency. She is an amazing example and a wonderful missionary. Visit her website. Sometimes there are pictures, although there aren't any right now.

Now I chow my A-B-...Z's?

Mr. Yuke(3) loves to sing the A-B-C song. He sings it often and at the top of his lungs. It goes like this:

"A-B-Z-D-E-F-G,
H-I-J-K-L-N-N-O
PEEE-
2-R-X,
T-U-V,
W, X, Y and Z.
Now I know my A-B-Z's.
Next time won't you sing with me?"

Every time he sings it, I gently correct him that it is A-B-"C", because the song has "Z" at the end. He looks at me like I am stupid and corrects me back that it is

"A-B-Z-D-E-F-G
H-I-J-K-LNNO
PEEEEE-
2-R-X,
T-U-V,
W, X, Y AND Z!!!"

I try to convince him that no, it is "C" (I'm saving the battles of "M", "Q" and "S" for after I win this one). He won't have any of it.


The Pinkiest(5), I fear, is going to be dependent on some substance or the other for the rest of her life. Currently she is hopelessly addicted to anything sweet. She steals them, hides them, and eats them every chance she gets. It is quite sad actually and I am at a loss for how to help her. This is such a problem that any time we go anywhere, she scavenges the parking lot for gum any moment my eyeballs are not directly on her. Then, all of a sudden I see she has gum in her mouth and I know she didn't get it from home because she has had gum in her hair (and the car upholstery, and the baby's hair...) so many times that she is banned from chewing gum at all. So I ask her, "Where did you get the gum?"-

The Pinkiest(5): I don't know.
Me: Well, that gum didn't just appear in your mouth.
The Pinkiest(5): I don't know.
Me: What do you mean 'you don't know'? How can you not know?
The Pinkiest(5): I don't know.
Me: Just tell the truth. You get in more trouble for lying.
The Pinkiest(5): The ground.
Me: Was it already chewed up?!!!
The Pinkiest(5): Yeah.
Me: Well SPIT IT OUT!!!!!

This exchange is usually followed by a lengthy conversation about germs and how disgusting it is to pick up ABC gum and that she should never, ever do that, at the end of which she promises never to do it again. Until the next time.

So I'm doing battle with Mr. Yuke(3) over "A-B-C" and the only explanation I can come up with is the one foremost in my mind: ABC gum. This of course will do me absolutely no good whatsoever and I am rendered impotent in both situations.

Score: Kids-2, Mom-0

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.

Those sweet, idyllic moments

You know the ones I'm talking about. The ones that make you very nearly forget that your children are the spawn of- well, anyway- Those rare, precious times when everyone is cooperating and playing together and using their very polite manners and making the kind of choices that help you to feel good about being a parent. Because you know that somehow, sometime, some of that good stuff you tried to teach them managed to ooze in (in spite of all the other things, such as the phrase "Holy crap!" and a penchant for eating brownies before 8:00am). Those times that you are filled with satisfaction and you get a teeny glimpse of what it means to have joy and rejoicing in your posterity. At such times, you gaze at your children (because they are not just "kids" right then) and visions of other scenes flicker through your mind. You see them how they smiled at you when they were babies. You imagine other happy children running to launch a kite, only you see it in slow motion. You see radio flyer wagons being dragged to the sandlot for a neighborhood baseball game and then there's the Ice Cream Man with his truck. You hear the music tinkling in the background- while for a moment in time, your family has been transformed into a Norman Rockwell painting. And it is good.

We had one such moment two Sundays ago. After church the children all decided to play a quiet game together. Bubba(6) was dressed in his suit so he was the Bishop. He sat at his desk (piano bench) and each of the other children came one by one to pay him their tithing and also to get a piece of candy. They conversed amongst themselves quietly in this fashion as I sat with my elevated injury and Husband prepared food for the family. It was one of those sweet, idyllic moments for Husband and me. We gazed lovingly at each other and I smiled a peaceful smile. I was somewhere near the Ice Cream Man part of the hallucination when our heads both jerk up in response to Mr. Yuke(3) saying, "NOW I'm going to KILL you, Bishop!!!"

Me: What?! Why is anyone killing the Bishop?!

Husband (able to explain because he was not hallucinating as vividly as me- maybe it was the percocet?...): Bubba(6) is the Bishop, they're paying their tithing, and Mr.Yuke(3) is the Jedi that has been sent to kill him. (duh.)

Me: The Jedis don't like the Church? Or is it just tithing they're opposed to?

Mr. Yuke(3): I was just trying to make their game more incher-resting....

SIGH. Well, I guess it was nice while it lasted.

Better Off Dead

I haven't blogged for a while. Nothing was funny for a few days. That's called P.M.S.. Then my inlaws came. That's called A.C.C. (Aw Crap! Clean up, quick!). Then they left- but not before I got very sick. I even had to miss out on kid-trading-for-an-escape-day with TwinScrapper. And I haven't even talked to her about it yet. So now I'm on the mend and I have all kinds of stuff to chat about. For example, how Husband is four days behind me in this miserable illness I am emerging from. He was very cranky tonight. Like DON'T-look-at-me cranky. And I can't help but think about the fact that four days ago when I was hacking up my lungs, he was propositioning me. Interesting how perspectives change. And also- why is it that when I get sick the kids seem to think I'm on some wonderful feverish luxury vacation up there in my bed and that probably all the secretions coming out of every hole in my head are somehow a manifestation of my pure joy in relaxation from all the not lifting a finger I do when I am THAT SICK. This of course would lead any youngster to want to join in the vacation and also not lift a finger with me. And the house falls apart in the space of a few hours on the first day and I pray that nobody will call the cops about the state of affairs downstairs because I'm really sick and it's not usually like that and all I want is a little rest and TO STOP COUGHING LONG ENOUGH FOR THE MUSCLES AROUND MY ABS TO STOP HURTING AND IS THAT ASKING SO MUCH!!! So they all join me in not lifting a finger in spite of my piteous efforts to command them to DO THEIR WORK and then it takes weeks- if not longer- to get caught up again. I do not understand how they manage it, really. I don't think I could ransack a place that quickly and completely, even if there were some sort of official t-shirt and a cash prize at the end of it. That's my children. Talented. So, waaaaah. Poor me. Actually, it's not all bad. I actually caught myself thinking that I will have lost quite a lot by the time I go weigh in again.

Now that I've gotten all the crud off my chest, (if not totally OUT of it)- Let me tell you about the field trip to the Pumpkin Patch. The Pinkiest(5) and her class had a field trip to the pumpkin patch. They went with the afternoon kids and that meant she had lunch at like 9:45 am and she had to show up at school with a water bottle and tennis shoes and sunscreen (oops.) and NO BACKPACK. Not that I particularly cared about any of these directions but the No Backpack thing seemed to be a real big deal for the kindergarten teachers because they sent home four different notes about it. The Pinkiest(5) also needed $2.00. This was absolutely required and if they did not bring it they would not get a pumpkin and they would not get a treat and they would not get a visit from Santa Claus and they would not get to go to the pumpkin patch! Ok, ok, we'll send her stupid $2.00. Geez. So, a week and a half before the field trip she starts asking me for the money. About ten times a day. I say yes, don't worry. We'll get your two dollars. 5 days before the field trip The Pinkiest(5) is practically in meltdown mode. "I need my two dollars." "Where is my two dollars?" "Don't forget my two dollars!" "What about my two dollars?"
ME: YES!!! I'LL GET YOUR TWO DOLLARS. JUST WAIT!
So she waited that morning, only bringing it up about fifteen more times. We get in the car because she missed the bus and as I'm driving her to school I realize- CRAP!!! I forgot the two dollars. That's just great. I start thumbing through my wallet. All I have is a five. She of course notices me perusing the cash stash and pipes in, "I NEED my two dollars!" And all I can see in my mind's eye is an image of claymation fast food items dancing. (Someone please confirm that those were in that movie and I'm not just losing my mind on random rejected commercial ad campaign pitches.) So I toss the five at her while emphatically stating that I want ALL the change and that means three dollars and I want it all. "Yeah. Ok, mommy. Bye." I watched her walk away with a sinking feeling that I'd never see that three dollars again.
And a strange desire to get a paper route.

Fast forward to later that day, about 15 minutes after she got home from school. Crying she says, "I lost my money!!!"
ME: What money?.... You mean MY money? My three dollars?
The Pinkiest(5): No, it's five. The sub wouldn't take it.
You can imagine my exasperation at this point. Because just what kind of amateurs are they paying to sub down at that school who don't even take care of the important things like collecting money for a field trip they know nothing about that's five days away? Doesn't this woman know that Murphy's Law and The Forces of the Universe and the brain of a mother of 6 all state that these sorts of things can only be remembered ONCE and therefore she will surely not have that stupid two dollars turned in for the field trip no matter how hard I try to make sure she does? It's unnatural. Well, then The Pinkiest(5) goes on to explain that she had the money in her backpack and she took it out when she got home to play with it (because why not? She's been home for fifteen minutes.) and it got lost. (Funny how kids always put it like that- "IT got" lost. I really had very little to do with it.)

Luckily she found it that night and I confiscated it. The good news is that the day of her fieldtrip I happened to read over the gazillionth note from the teachers about the requirements (Water bottle. Check. Sunscreen. In a minute. Two dollars. Oh crap!-) and we were able to find exactly two dollars this time around. But in the hunt for "my two dollars" we forgot the sunscreen. I guess two dollars and skin cancer late in life are a small price to pay for a pumpkin from the real-life actual pumpkin patch. At least she had a jacket with her and has therefore, NOT gotten sick. (Mom logic.) John Cusak's got nothin' on me.

Amberzzz Alert

So tonight I was working away, putting together a one hour class on everything you ever needed to know about every facet of food storage. (Yeah. That's what I thought too.) Anyway, I was typing and concentrating real hard, in order to get done in time to take my four thousand handouts over to the church to make one hundred thousand copies. The kids all did their chores today (miracle of miracles!) and we didn't even have to dress up. The ones who are not currently on restriction were therefore free to roam the area between the next door neighbors' driveways and their bedrooms. These boundaries are part of The Rules. This apparently was too much square mileage because they decided to move all the crap they have for entertainment out of the house and into the driveway. No, mom. We can't play babies in the playroom. (What is she thinking?) They also couldn't leave the books in the book corner or the blankets on their beds. Or anything at all in the garage. I did venture away from the computer twice to check on the size of the pile on the sidewalk and to make sure it was not spilling out into the street. I do this because I care about the HOA imposed covenants. Tee Hee. And because Santa ain't replacing every dumb thing that gets run over because it was left halfway in the street by careless children. Also to do the 15 minute head count (it's 15 seconds when we're out in public), but that was mostly unnecessary due to their trips to get more crap every 5 minutes. So just when I'm finishing up printing out handout 3-thousand-99, Little Mommy(8) says to me that The Pinkiest(5) is missing. Now, I'm not alarmed mind you, because one, I figure Little Mommy (who is on restriction) is really reporting that The Pinkiest(5) has wandered beyond the driveway boundaries and Little Mommy(8) is desperately hoping to get her sister into trouble too. And two, because if The Pinkiest(5) truly has turned up missing, I can safely assume she is next door, or across the street, or at Sister Teacher's house, or at Old Sister Teacher's house, or at Old Sister Teacher's Neighbor's house- trying to get a sugar fix. (She's on detox until Halloween.) So I gather up my handouts, get the baby, head downstairs and find Little Mommy(8) in the yard, beside herself calling The Pinkiest(5). Bubba(6) is also calling her and is riding up and down the street looking for her. Now I think she is hiding from them because she doesn't want to come in and it is starting to get dark. So I start looking. I walk up and down the street calling her name. Very loudly. (I could be a stage singer if I could only act. My voice is THAT LOUD.) But she is nowhere. Not only that, but every neighbor I know says they haven't seen her for a while. Old Teacher's Husband says, "Check in that van. It's been parked there in front of nothing for an hour and we've never seen it before. We're pretty sure it doesn't belong here." Sadly, I live in a neighborhood that is both too expensive for us to purchase a home (mid-300's) and also the ghetto where every nasty-white trash-scary-person lives. I would not be at all surprised if any one of them or their scary friends kidnapped one of my kids. I actually looked in every one of those van windows while still hollering her name- in spite of the fact that the driver was sitting in it at the wheel. No The Pinkiest(5). Or any other person bound and gagged- so that's good news. I start having a panic attack. I am yelling her name so loudly now, that people are coming out of their houses, jumping in their cars, and driving around to help with the search. After 12 of us looked frantically for another 15 minutes, my friend DramaLady called the cops, gave the description, and they were sending an officer to take the missing persons report. (Meanwhile I was cursing my d#*&@ cell phone. Why don't they have some sort of beeper thing you can push for when you misplace those things?) Then I sent Bubba(6) into the house to check the book corner because my kids often fall asleep in there. It's a cozy little space all their own with puppets and books and pillows and cushions and a beanbag chair. I was hoping that she would be in there. But nope, she wasn't.

She was in her bed with the blanket pulled over her head in such a way that it looked like a pile of blanket with no one under it, so deeply asleep that she couldn't be roused and had no idea that everyone in This State That I Live In had just been shouting her name for the last 25 minutes. She had to walk right past me to get in there but I was so engrossed with the food storage stuff that I did not notice her go in- (probably for another load of whatever items might have slipped through the cracks and not ended up out in the swap meet on the driveway-) and never come out again. Sound the alarm. Stand down. Thank the neighbors. Curl up and die. So embarrassing.

The silver lining is that I got to hear all the other mom's stories about when the same exact thing happened to them. This didn't make me feel any less stupid, mind you- but a little less guilty for troubling them. Amish at Heart's son actually fell asleep playing hide-and-seek. He was a really good hider. Oh the trauma! And to think that Husband missed the whole thing. AND, come to think of it, so did The Pinkiest(5).

Back in the Saddle Again

So the other day it accidentally came out that I had quit blogging. Obviously Husband is one of my more devoted readers since this came as a huge surprise to him. Anyway- I told him everything I was feeling- from the alien invasion, to the reaction to Charlotte, to somewhereelseat.blogspot.com. He was surprisingly understanding about it and took it much better than I had given him credit for. Of course he then proceeded with the line of reasoning that this backed up his earlier blog theories but I didn't let that bother me. I was so pleased at how supportive and amiable he was about it I didn't mind. TwinScrapper and I had discussed it and we decided that the invasion was probably over anyway so I decided to take up blogging again. I'm glad too because you know- I've missed it.

So- on the homefront-

This week we've had:
-Teacher2 inform me that while Husband and I may have known Bubba(6) since his conception, after less-than-careful observation of him for four days she believes that our School-Psychologist-Recommended Disciplinary action against him is unnacceptable and that if we do not do what SHE says, she will PERSONALLY UNDO THE CONSEQUENCE HE HAS CHOSEN. But I suppose that is for another blog. Maybe somewhereelseat.blogspot.com is going to com in handy after all.
-2 dentist appointments WITH NO CAVITIES!!!! (I had to document it with the caps lock on and everthing because I believe it very likely this may be the only time in LittleMommy's(8) life that it happens.)
-A well baby check for Babyloo who has officially been given a nickname. Now and for however long it seems appropriate Babyloo will be known as Muhloo(-). Maybe you're saying to yourself "how is that any different?". Trust me. It is.
-A physical for AberJaber. Prognosis is good I guess. After extensive testing by a medical assistant they can conclude that I am alive and need to pay them $10. The good news is that for that price, the appointment also included a Tetanus-Pertussus booster cocktail. Can I just say that when the nurse tells you your arm will only be sore for about a day, that's a D*%$ lie. "Day" my *$$.
-a biting incident (also LittleMommy(8). I guess 1 out of 2 aint bad). Wow. Even typing "aint" makes my skin crawl.
-The mommy suggestion that Monster Truck(2) is NOT on the Dark Side and that He and Mr.Yuke(3) had better use their light sabers to fight Darth Vader (who is the couch) together. "Yeah. Let's go, Jedi! (whack, whack) Let's kill my Father! (whack, whack) Who is that couch. (whack, whack) That couch is my father! And this makes NO sense." (whack, whack).
-The Great Toilet Seat Debaucle of '07. It's this that I've chosen to blog about this evening.

As you know, Mr. Yuke(3) is at the most entertaining stage of all the Little People around here at this time. Kid cracks me up constantly. Well, I suppose the Great Toilet Seat Debaucle started with Monster Truck(2). Or maybe The Pinkiest(5). It happened like this. The Pinkiest(5) is a bit obsessive. Her current obsession is tutus. They are her uniform for life outside of school. And she only makes that concession because it's too cold to stand at the busstop with bare legs at THAT TIME of the day. Monster Truck(2) picked up on this obsession and found it amusing. Now, whether to emmulate her or to make fun of her, I can't be sure (but my money is on the second one-), he decided that he would wear a tutu too. Only his would be the Elmo toilet seat that fits onto the big potty which we recently bought him to start potty training on soon. Since we have not used the seat for its intended purpose, he has adapted it for a tutu in the interim. The Pinkiest(5) puts on her uniform and starts dancing around and he runs and puts that toilet seat on and dances behind her. Brothers. Anyway, I've tried to stop the toilet ballet a number of times because one- I don't want this particular use of the toilet seat to continue once we employ it in less tidy duties (or should I say doodies?) and two- it's a tight fit around his middle and I've worried that one of these times he is going to get stuck. Well, Mr. Yuke(3) beat him to it. Yesterday, Mr. Yuke(4) came to me and said, "Mom, can you help me?" He had put that toilet seat around his neck. I have no idea how he did this. If you had seen it you would agree with me that he must have the mutant power to shrink and re-enlarge his own head or else maybe he has retractable ears- because no one could have gotten that thing on him. Or OFF. I said yes, I'd help him, but first I'd have to take a few pictures. I found a camera and he happily showed off his newly acquired neck-gear. But then it had to come off. I couldn't get it. Then Husband tried and he couldn't get it either. Then THE SHRIEKING started. If you know Mr. Yuke(3), you know which sound I mean, although for once it didn't make me mad because I felt really bad for the Little Toilet Head. LittleMommy(8) brought Husband some lotion and they slicked up his ears. I left the room for a minute and by the time I got back they had it off. Poor kid has bruised, scraped temples today though. And now I have to grapple a little with the mommy guilt that in Mr. Yuke's(3) moment of crisis I was already planning out scrapbook pages. ("Back in the Saddle Again"- I could frame the shot with a toilet seat.... Hmm. I'll have to buy some Elmo stickers.... Where is that camera?...)

What a week. I tell ya. I don't know how I've held all this stuff in. Ahhhhhhh.... (Cathartic sigh of relief.) It's good to be blogging again.