What Do You Mean, "It's Been a Month"?

My goodness. Are you all feeling ignored? I've been truly horrid at updates of late. Partly because I'm stymied by the picture aspect. I need to add text to some pictures and I just haven't had two minutes to do so and the desire to attempt it occurring in the same part of space and time. Also, husband keeps hogging my laptop. Oh, and I can't justify the time to blog when I'm failing at my primary rolls of mother and wife.

Lucky for you, the cosmos have conspired to align and give me time to jot a few things down today.

1. CJ is in the 90th and 95th percentiles for weight and height. She's never had a drop of formula so, go boobies!

2. Placenta pills have an aftertaste and should only be taken at bed time. It's not that the aftertaste is unpleasant, exactly. It's just that I know that's what it is and I've had enough problems with the thought of taking the stupid things that an aftertaste is kind of a deal breaker. Nobody can deny these puppies work, though. Zero post partum depression, zero issues with milk supply. That's not something I've been able to say before.

3. This was my first week back in the gym. Muscle memory ROCKS. I'm already starting to get the definition back in my shoulders, arms, and butt. The abdominal area is another story entirely. It's complaining rather loudly that it doesn't know how to do very basic things. I tell it to shut up and grow a pair, and it yells back about nerve damage, blah blah. Then I tune it out and MAKE it do a sit up anyway. I NEED my core if I'm ever going to bench press more than 60 pounds.

4. The Boy has figured out how to ride his bike, thank goodness. Now he has something other than TV he loves. Also, now we can put him on bike, the girls in a stroller and roller blades on our feet and get an actual workout as a family. :D He's pretty speedy.

5. An old guy stopped me at Costco to ask if I had my baby strapped on with a curtain. Pretty much made my day. I love how wearing my babies in wraps seems to completely confound a whole subset of the population. Confounding people, in general, makes me giddy.

6. Cloth diapering is AMAZING. Honestly, it seemed rather overwhelming and kinda gross but it's FUN. I get sad on days I don't I get to wash and hang the diapers. Every three days I'm EXTRA happy because I get to make clean diapers!

7. I finished some coordinating skirts for my girls. Without patterns. Or knowing how to sew. When I get them both in the skirts at the same time, I'll take a picture. Can't promise it will make it's way on to the blog, though. You'll just have to take my word for it that they're super cute.

8. Now CJ, who has been eating pretty much since the crack of dawn and JUST gave me a break, is saying she needs more booby time. Growth spurt, anyone?

Big Imagination

Our kitchen light switch has a flip-down cover and a bunch of extra buttons to program the light.
Zsa Zsa had the flap down and was pressing lots of buttons. This concerned The Boy. He tried to get her to stop, and when she wouldn't, he went to a higher authority.

"DAD! Do those buttons make the house explode?!?"

The Week After

This blog is meant, in part, to journal for my family. (It's also supposed to be informative, amusing and bombastic in turns but today it's a journal.) So here's what happened after the very dramatic entrance of CJ.

We stayed in the hospital for the better part of a week. My older kids got passed around quite a bit so Husband could work and save his paid time off for when I'd REALLY need help.

The recovery has been wickedly hard. Harder than an surgery I've had. I'm sure the two liters of blood loss didn't help. (Yes, two liters like a 2L soda pop bottle, two liters. It's a lot.)

We were ready to go home by Sunday afternoon, though. CJ had already regained her birth weight, or come awfully close, I can't remember now. That night we went to family dinner like usual, only this time, there were FIVE of us!

When we got home I noticed CJ's eye was pretty swollen. We called the nurse hotline and decided to watch it. At the 3am feed n' diaper change, it had gotten red and was leaking goopy goo.

Monday morning Husband dropped CJ and I at the doctors without an appointment (something they don't really love but what were they going to do?) and then he took the older kids to his sister-in-law's house for the day.
The doctor was pretty concerned, what with her only being 5 days old and all. He gave us a prescription and told us to come back that afternoon to have it looked at again.

So we went to Costco Pharmacy. I should have waited in the car but instead I wandered around the store with my new baby. When we went back to the doctor, he didn't think her eye was enough improved to watch at home over night so he sent us the children's hospital were CJ was admitted to the NICU for monitoring and IV antibiotics. She got two kinds of IV antibiotics and a topical antibiotic every few hours. The fear was that her eye would turn from periorbital cellulitis into orbital cellulitis or meningitis. We spent two days in NICU (which ended up being overkill of epic proportions) before FINALLY coming home.

My mom had arrived while I was annoying the NICU nurses with requests for discharge papers. She stayed a week and it was LOVELY. I laid around and slept and didn't do my hair and the dishes and laundry still got done and my children were clean and fed and played with. My mom is a marvel and we were so blessed to have her here.

Mom wasn't gone TWO DAYS before The Boy decided that he'd get himself into some powered cement. Now I don't know if you know this about powdered cement, but you really shouldn't put it in your eyes. The Boy wasn't aware of this, or even that it WAS powdered cement. He thought it was sand. Not that you should throw sand either, but my kids still haven't learned that lesson. Two showers and lots of screaming later, his eyes still looked horrid so we called poison control. Yeah. They weren't super thrilled with my kid, either.

After much discussion, we loaded The Boy and my nursling into Kate the Van and I drove to Phoenix Children's ER for evaluation. They washed his eyes out yet again, dyed them a funky orange color and diagnosed him with corneal scratches. Just that took over three hours. Yippee. The Boy was NOT thrilled with the process, even though he got an otter pop and a new toy car out of the deal. I just got another trip to Costco Pharmacy. Frankly, I'm super glad the lye in the cement didn't burn or permanently damage his eyes. Scratches on the cornea we can deal with.

That pretty much catches us up to now. I think everyone is healing or healed. It'll take a few months for me to build back my blood and feel 100%.

CJ has gained one pound one ounce and between one and three inches, depending on whose measurements you believe, since her birth.

I've lost probably close to 30 pounds since the birth and that, my friend, is reason enough for celebration. So I'm going to go break out the chocolate peanut butter ice cream and celebrate.

Cute Kid Stuff

I've been collecting things my kids say that are adorable. It's time to put them here before the kids erase them from my phone. :)

The Boy:

I know a great recipe for mud.  Dirt and water.  I know how to make salty mud, too! Dirt, salt, and water.


Mom, I want to play a board game. Why? Because I'm bored!


With my new bike I can totally win first place in the slow motion bike race!


Zsa Zsa:


I say Zsa Zsa in Dutch. Zsa Zsa in Dutch. I DID it! 


I was reading the Ensign (church magazine). Zsa comes up and says, "That's Jesus! Does he say, 'behold'?"


I think the baby is gonna pop out and do a funny dance like this!  (funny dance commences complete with jazz hands)


Aunt Nancy asked Zsa what our new baby's name would be. She paused and seriously considered before stating, Sleeping Beauty. 


CJ:


Smiled while she was awake. :D 

Argh! Or Calling the Cops On My Four Year Old

STOMP! made an appearance at The Children's Museum today, and since our year pass was about to expire it seemed like a good time to make one last trip. These things always seem like a good idea in theory. Upon arrival we saw FIVE full size school buses. Yes, FIVE. And a news van. Hoo Boy.

Well, we went inside and got ourselves settled for the show. It turns out our bit of carpet was vacant for a reason; the sun was particularly blinding in that location. Oh well. I figured that fact fit in with the five full sized school buses out front. The Boy was so excited to see STOMP! since I'd been showing him YouTube clips. While we were discussing this, Zsa Zsa managed to sneak off. Museum staff were alerted of her disappearance and after a few minutes we located her, 5 feet from where I'd been sitting. Obviously she wasn't there the whole time but I was glad to have her back, at any rate, regardless of where she'd been.

The kids and I had a repeat of the conversation in the car on the drive over; namely if you can't see Mom, Mom can't see you and THAT IS NOT OK. Stay where you can see Mom or when you are found, we will all leave immediately! If only I'd left with them after that mini-disappearance. It was but a foreshadowing of things to come. (dum dum DUMMMM!)

After the show (which kind of sucked, by the way. Even the STOMP! guy said so...) we went upstairs to play. AGAIN I said, "if you'd like to leave this room, come tell Mommy first!" The kids did pretty well at first, but when it was time to move to a different exhibit, The Boy said he'd like to go to the bathroom. Well, that's just fine, let me get your sister and we'll go. By the time I got her collected, The Boy was no where in site. I figured he REALLY had to go and had high tailed it to the restroom so Zsa and I made our (laborious) way there. No Boy. Hmmm. Well I'm like 40 million months pregnant and I was standing IN the restroom so it's not like I could pass up the opportunity and Zsa, regardless of the fact that she's back in diapers, likes using the mini potty and sink so she needed to go, too. She also felt the need to strip from the waist down, including her socks so it took a while to get her put back together. The Boy was still missing.

Zsa and I combed the third floor looking for my missing spawn. We alerted museum staff. Nothing. More nothing. On a hunch I took Zsa and we looked through every exhibit on all three floors. We checked back in with museum staff. Nothing. I walked the entire museum AGAIN. More nothing. At this point it had been 30 full minutes since I'd seen him last.

Now, we go to the Children's Museum almost weekly. My kids are VERY comfortable with that building and go missing regularly, but I'm usually able to locate them within two or three minutes, and they have NEVER strayed from the floor on which I first lost sight of them. They have their favorite exhibits and it's easy to find them. Until today.

When we reached the 30 minute mark I told the employee in charge of the search that it was time to call the police. I'm not an alarmist when it comes to my missing children. I know they are usually playing somewhere completely oblivious to my searching for them. But half an hour in a rapidly emptying museum? That was pushing it, even for me. The employee said that I could talk to his supervisor about calling in extra help. My response to that?
"You can call whomever you like to talk it over, I'm calling the police NOW. It's been 30 minutes." I had my finger hoovering over the second 1 in 9-1-1 when his radio crackled and the freaking gift shop reported having found my son.

He was THREE ever loving stories away from where he'd first disappeared. In the year we've been attending the museum, we have NEVER EVEN ENTERED the gift shop. That's a can of over-priced worms I haven't felt the need to open.

You might imagine that I felt all kinds of relieved to have found my son but the only emotion I've felt since the whole thing started is anger. I'm so MAD at my kids. "Stay where you can see Mom" is simple. It's direct. There's not a lot of ambiguity with that statement. Both kids are totally capable of following it. Both kids completely ignored me and made me waddle all over this freaking museum we only go to because I'm trying to be a good mom. I have a pair of THE most ungrateful children on planet earth and I'm really REALLY sick of being their mother. How did I end up being totally taken for granted by my kids?

Anyway, it turns out The Boy had taken the elevator to the first floor to use the bathroom we normally use on our way in, and then had decided to stay down there and browse the gift shop without his mother. I am glad we didn't have to call the cops and issue an Amber Alert, but Sheez Louise. If I don't have an extra three gray hairs from this experience, it's not because my kids didn't try.

Chemical Romance? Or Not

I have this four year old, and it's really easy for me to forget how GOOD he is, compared to other kids his age. I guess I needed a reminder that really, he's fantastically behaved most of the time.

Cue creepy music


That is, until yesterday.
Our normal Sunday evening consists of going to Grandma and Grandpa's house for dinner. While there, The Boy always finds time to go to the barn and sit on the quads. He loves the quads. He loves imagining himself driving the quads. Everyone is fine with this arrangement. At least, we were until yesterday.

About 7pm a younger cousin comes in crying and waving his arms about. Cousin smells strongly of chemicals. Older cousins come in carrying a container of metal cutting fluid called Tap Magic. The eye wash makes an appearance and cousin gets his eyes rinsed and then gets thrown in the shower for an extended scrubbing.
About this time, The Boy wanders in. Oh my. He smells like Tap Magic. He has a chemical burn coming up on his face and the back of his neck.
After washing and some extensive questioning during which we promise no one will get in trouble, we just need to know EXACTLY what happened, we learn the following~
The Boy and Cousin actually found TWO bottles of Tap. They thought it would be fun to squirt them all over the barn, themselves, and each other. In the process, they also got the quads and the motorcycles.
Hubs and I went to the barn to investigate the damage. Who knew two six ounce cans could go so far?

We had an intense and prolonged conversation about NOT PLAYING WITH CHEMICALS EVER.

Fast forward to this morning. We woke up to The Boy in the upper reaches of the laundry room cupboards, spraying chemicals and a mysterious white power all over the entire room, my hall and himself.

In a bit I'm running to the store for zip ties. From now on, a certain little boy is getting cuffed to his bed at night to preempt his mama getting any more grey hairs. And Grandpa has promised to lock the barn for the next few weeks before The Boy comes to visit.

I am NOT in love with this behavior.

Note: after a visit with the doctor today, it turns out he's got an ear infection. That kind of explains the rash of nasty behavior he's been having. Acting out when he doesn't feel well is kinda par for the course with this kid, as is not actually TELLING us what's WRONG and expecting us to read minds. 

Yesterday: The Day I Had a Brilliant Parenting Moment

My kids have been craving one-on-one mom time, so yesterday I made it happen.

First, The Boy and I drove to a pumpkin patch were he was allowed to choose any pumpkin he could carry. We ended up with a pie pumpkin, which is just fine with me, I like pie from scratch. In fact, I bought a hand-mill for that exact purpose a few years back. :D

Then we made a quick stop to pick up potty training incentives for Zsa.

Back home to pick up Dad and Zsa Zsa. Dad and The Boy went to the soccer game (did I mention Dad is helping coach the team? Yeah, I thought it was funny, too).

Then Zsa Zsa and Mommy went to the produce store where she promptly picked THREE pumpkins. But, altogether they were cheaper than at the patch, so I let her get them. She also helped pick our apples and generally charmed the rest of the clientele with her booming voice, hilarious commentary, and princess cape. (Two year olds are the bomb)

We met up with the guys at the park and watched the end of the game. After a quick lunch at home, The Boy decided he needed ANOTHER Mom Date, so we went to Costco. I let him wander without a time limit in the toys section, which was so fun.

At the end of our trip I had a BRILLIANT idea. Seriously. It's Saturday at Costco in Arizona during snowbird season. The store was packed. The checkout lines were long. The Boy had a practice to get to, AND he wanted ice cream. So while I waited in line to check out, I sent him and two dollars to wait in line at the food court. You remember he's four, right?

So he waited patiently, got to the window and ordered his OWN chocolate ice cream in a cup and paid all while I watched from the checkout stand. He was so proud. *I* was so proud. Also, we saved enough time that we made it to his practice without being late.

Beside getting his own ice cream I think he was most pleased with the change and receipt in his pocket, which is kinda funny. Nobody can say I'm not doing my best to raise a self-sufficient kid. Or one whose good at reasoning. When I asked for my change back, he said "Well Mom, it's in MY pocket, so that means it's MINE." All right then. Just this once you can keep it. But 10% is going in your mission jar.

The Boy's First Story

For school this week, The Boy wrote his first story. I thought I'd share. (Daddy was the transcriptionist.)

October 14, 2011


There was a little boy that was called *Jim, and there was a big tractor. And Jim had a little car. And he drove it to the big tractor. 
The big tractor was a crane and it picked his car up with him in it. And it turned and put him down, down, down, down, down, into the trash dump.
And he was trying to get out before he reached the fire. And he got out when a magnet picked him and his car up. And he told the magnet to drop him. Then the crane came again, and it was looking for him. It looked everywhere and it's gas ran out, and it couldn't move any more. The End. **Twelve Bucks.
*Of course The Boy named the main character after himself, so I've changed the name here.
**Do you know who Brian Regan is? 


Barring the fact that he borrowed quite liberally from Toy Story 3, it's pretty good for his first story ever, no? We will have to work on his over-usage of conjunctions, but maybe we will wait for a few months before explaining the parts of speech. :D

The Boy and Zsa Zsa

I'm seriously considering renaming this blog, "Brilliant Things My Son Did".
He's getting to the clever stage and I'm constantly amazed.

For instance, the other night he didn't want to go to bed, so he formed a coherent argument instead of just whining like he'd normally do. "But Mom! Some people are NOCTURNAL." Upon recounting this conversation the next day to my friend within his hearing, she asked, "Well, The Boy, do you know what nocturnal means?"

Accompanied with a sigh and eye roll worthy of any teen he replied, "nocturnal is when you're awake at night and sleep during the day." We were both impressed. I was less impressed when I found out he learned the word from TV. I'm trying so hard to get rid of that thing, I hate when it has redeeming qualities.

Another argument he made this week was early in the morning. Like 5:30 in the morning. He came into the parental unit's room and said, "Since you're still really tired and sleeping, can I watch TV?" (I told you I hated that thing, right?)

Also this week we were working on math sentences, specifically the concept of "greater than".
He decided he wanted to write his own sentence to go along with our manipulative math lesson so he wrote this: "10>5?"
When asked about the question mark he said, "They go at the end of sentences!"
Thus began our lesson on punctuation. He was fascinated, I swear. =)

Zsa Zsa continues to be a bright spot in my day. She's so eager to agree to anything I propose, it's such a refreshing change from some other children I could name. I dread the day she figures out doing the dishes, or pretty much anything Mom suggests, isn't really all that fun. "Mom, I want to play a game wiss you." "OK! Let's play 'Clean the Oven'!" "YAY!"

I also love her little half lisp. I kind of hope she doesn't lose it for a while because it's so endearing.
"Mama, I want to snuggle wiss you" is my favorite thing to hear.

She's my naturally optimistic child, and I get a kick out of her sunny disposition. It makes me all warm and fuzzy on the inside. :)

Zsa Zsa is a perfect study in how modern toys aren't any better for us than the sticks our multiple great grandparents had. Her current favorite toy is a shoe lace. Yes, I'm totally serious. Sometimes she uses it with the lacing card horse it came with, and sometimes she uses it without, but it's in her hand nearly the entire day any time we're home. Battles ensue at bedtime when mama (wisely) insists strings do not make good bedtime toys. She is awfully stubborn, though. I can't think where she gets it...

Reading?

It turns out The Boy can read.
Yeah, I am at LEAST as surprised as you are, considering nobody actively taught him.
Here's how I found out.

Today was our Let's Play Music class. We were going over the solfege notes in some of the cords. The Boy READ the notes in the cords. Another mom leaned over to me and said, "He can read?" My flabbergasted response was, "I guess". Yes, I'm witty and brilliant pretty much all of the time.

This evening I was on the laptop and The Boy came up behind me to see what I was doing.
"Mom, that word says off" he says while pointing to a banner ad. My goodness, yes. It does.

So that's the story of how I learned The Boy could read. Sorta wish I could take the credit for this. :)
I don't think he's ready for Cicero, but maybe we could check out some Dick and Jane books or something.

Random Boy

Yesterday the kids and I were running errands. Zsa Zsa, upon getting buckled into her seat, told me she was going to sleep. The Boy handed out this little gem:

"Mom, I'm not sleepable right now. When I *am* sleepable, I'll go to sleep, OK?"
"OK"
"I want to be a fireman with a fire HAT and fire BOOTS and a fire JACKET and ALL that stuff!"

What can I say? He can't help being that random. It's genetic.

THREE.DAYS.

Swimming lessons are over, thank heaven. During the second week, The Boy would.not.get.in.the.water.

It took him three days and losing the privilege of going to Cars2 on the second day to tell me why. He didn't like it when the teacher let go of him. SERIOUSLY!?!?! THREE.DAYS.

Tonight at dinner was more of the same. He was refusing dinner until I guessed that he wanted me to cut up his burrito. He was going to skip dinner, rather than tell me he'd prefer it if I cut it up for him.

We had a big fat discussion about how you get what you want faster, if you come out and SAY IT.

Shades of his father, coming through. I may try sticking my head in the still-broken oven again. Seriously.
At least The Hubs is learning. The Boy still has a ways to go.

This week he also said stuff like, "When is the world going to be over?" and "I'm ready for the world to be over". Talk about giving a mom a heart attack. He said it so solemnly, I'm considering taking him seriously...and to a child psychologist.

In happier news, Zsa Zsa has turned into quite the little fish. She's so daring and adventurous it's a little nerve-wracking. Every once and a while she scares herself and gets less (much less) adventurous for a while.
The Boy seems to really be enjoying tumbling. I'm not sure what I'm paying for since the  first day I asked what he learned, and he said, "jumping over a pillow". Every time we drop him off and drive away, Zsa Zsa says, "I lost my brother!" Once, she was sleeping at home when I dropped him off and when she woke up, she said, "Where my brother go!? Get my The Boy!" She's started to refuse afternoon naps because she's afraid he'll leave without her, which is kind of cute. MUCH cuter than making Mom guess what might possibly be wrong. Equally cute is how fast they both went to sleep tonight. The Boy was snoring before Daddy finished stories. That never happens. Thank you swimming, going to the movies and tumbling all in one da...zzzzzzzzzzz.

Reading the Constructions, and Other Fun Stuff My Kids Say

The Boy is obsessed with pictographs. He's just certain he knows what everything says if there's a picture with the instructions. "Mom! I'm reading the constructions!" "OK, babe.

This past week was our first week of swimming lessons. One morning while putting on his suit, The Boy examined the clothing label, which had a pineapple on it. "Mom! This swimsuit makes it so you can EAT under water!"

He thinks he knows what all the traffic signs mean. He's nearly never right. Also, he's obsessed with no smoking signs and people who light up. He likes to tell me about the people smoking and how bad cigarettes are and how funny they smell WHILE we are walking right past the people smoking. Ferills. It's SUPER embarrassing.
The Hubs thinks it's great. Kind of like a public service, but I see this behavior spilling over into other areas of life. He talks about blind people and people who look different than us right in front of those people ALL THE TIME! Regardless of how often I tell him it's not nice. I can't tell you how I live in dread of the first time he realizes people come in different colors.  There's nothing like a four-year-old to promote humility in a parent.

Zsa Zsa has spent the week month, potty training. Yesterday she left the house for the first time without a diaper or pull up. Not only did she stay dry, she went potty at Great Grandma's house! I can't tell you how happy we were. I'm still bringing pull ups on our Great Northern Migration, next month. I may be brave, but I'm not stupid.

Zsa Zsa's also full of creative sayings. The other day she and I were running errands alone. I kept telling her how wonderful and sweet and clever she was, and she kept saying, "I not sweet. I ZSA ZSA!" "I not smart! I Zsa Zsa. Daddy smart, Sammy smart, I Zsa Zsa." That last one kinda broke my heart.
Then the next day, she hit someone else in the car, and I used her real name to let her know that wasn't nice. She said, I not ________, I a GIRL!" Then I think maybe she's figuring out adjectives are not nouns and more than one word can describe a person.

This morning she was galloping around the house saying, "Hi Daddy Forsey*, Hi Momma Forsey!" We would say, "Hi Zsa Zsa Forsey!" Her reply? "I not a forsey, I a Zsa Zsa!" So maybe not.

Two-year-olds are highly entertaining, and I wish my little girl would stop growing up so fast. I feel like I'm missing it.
*Forsey is Zsa Zsa for horsey, in case you don't speak Zsa Zsa.

Father and Sons, a Mom's Perspective

This weekend is our church Father and Sons camp out. The Boy has been practically apoplectic with excitement for a good week now. This morning I did some last minute shopping for things like buns and s'more fixn'ns. The Boy REALLY wanted to come shopping with me, but not enough to stop watching a movie and get dressed in the 90 minute window I gave him. He was kinda pathetic running down the drive in his super hero undies and pj top with tears and snot dripping down his otherwise handsome face.
So sad that he has to suffer the consequences of his actions, isn't it? I know. I win the Best Mother Award.
(Just so no one calls CPS, The Hubs works from home and was on board to take over if he didn't get dressed in time.)
When it came time for the guys to leave on their trip, Zsa Zsa was just so sure she'd be going, too. And why not? She always gets to go when Daddy leaves!
As she snuggled me on the couch in tears I asked her if she thought she was a girl or a boy, and with out missing a beat, she said, "I a BOY!" This statement was made just that much more hilarious by the pink and frilly tutu around her waist.
So I've done my best to make our girl time special. We watched Gone With The Wind and Caillou and I made exactly what she requested for dinner, "eggies and straw-babies". Later, she gets to take a spa bath and have her nails painted. And maybe, if she's a very good kid, I'll play trucks with her before bed. But only if we get to wear our pink tutus.

PS: I have to say, if I had all boys I'd really look forward to Father and Sons all year long; but if I had all girls, like my mother, I'd dread it. How awful to have to stay home with FIVE girls and no help! Sorry, Mom.

Santa VS Jesus

Had an interesting conversation with The Boy today. It made me question the efficacy of all the religious indoctrination we've been practicing around here of late. It went something like this:

"Mom, why does Jesus have a white beard?"
"Well, I suppose that's the color he likes it."
"No, Mom! It's because the snow at the North Pole is white!"
"Son, Santa and Jesus are not the same person."
"They AREN'T?!? How COME, Mom!"
< silence >
<more silence>
"er."
<yet more silence>
"Because they aren't. Jesus loves us all the time. Santa only loves us once a year. Or something."
Seriously, people. I had nothing.
It's possible I'm not cut out for this parenting thing.

The Insanity Continues

Holy potatoes, Farm People. I'm insane. You'd think after yesterday, I'd have learned my lesson, but no.

Today I inflicted the same torture on myself, except this time I decided to skip the stroller. Because obviously, that's easier, right? I figured the kids would enjoy the chance to ride the  mall "alligator" up to the second floor. I was right, they did enjoy it. I did not enjoy chasing down my two-year-old as she barreled headlong toward the down-escalator. (Shouldn't the down escalator be a de-escalator or something?)

I ended up bribing my children. The deal was, if they were good, we could get a treat on our way out. We bought some jewelry to go with my new dress (the one I bought yesterday after Dad came on duty) and then we proceeded to check out a couple shoe stores. When I sensed the kids were done, I told them how brilliant they'd been and how I'd appreciated their good behavior. Then I gave The Boy a choice and it all went downhill like a de-escalator on steroids.

I asked if he'd like a treat from the candy store or from the ice cream store. (You Idaho people would not BELIEVE the malls here. They have entire stores dedicated to sugar. It's amazing.) Here is our conversation. You can trust that this is a verbatim exchange because I brought along my stenographer, Ethel. Or it's an argument we have on a regular basis. One of those.
"Boy, would you like a treat from the candy store or from the ice cream store?"
"Um...I choose BOTH!"
"You cannot have both. You need to choose one."
"I want THREE choices."
"OK. You can choose candy, you can choose ice cream or you can choose nothing and we'll just go home."
Cue meltdown.
"But MOM!!!!! I just really want BOTH!"
"That's OK. You can want both. However you can only choose one."
Massive amounts of gut-wrenching sobbing commences. Mom and sweet little girl get on the de-escaltor. Pouting boy follows. At the bottom of the de-escalator the conversation resumes. 
"Mom! I really want a treat!"
"I'd love to get you a treat. Would you like candy or ice cream?"
"MOM! I WANT BOTH!" Hysteria sets in. 
"Son, I'd love to get you a treat, but now you've lost the privilege."
Mom walks through the entirety of JC Penney holding a toddler and towing a preschooler who has somehow managed to attach himself to Mom's leg. Occasionally he tries to get in front of Mom to halt her progress and otherwise makes a scene. Old people who should by rights be dead or moved back to Indiana by now look on with sympathy and amusement. 


One would think getting to the parking lot might end such a poor display of mall manners, but oh no. Not for my child. I was forced to carry two children to the car. Once there, I tried again to reason with my son-turned-Banshee, to no avail.
Then he had the nerve to keep unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door. That would never do, strictly from a safety standpoint, so I did want any other hick from the backwater would do when pushed beyond limits and worried for the safety of her offspring: I spanked him. Oh, don't look at me like that. I didn't spank him because I was mad. I wasn't mad at all! In fact, I was happy to help him with this learning experience. I just wish I'd gotten a pair of shoes out of it, is all. I honestly could not think of another way to keep him safe on the way home that didn't involve candy AND ice cream. Or CPS.

The Boy is having a TERRIBLE time making choices. When he has to choose between two good things, he just can't. He chooses both. He can't have both. He needs to learn. Can you imagine if we just kept giving him two good things? He'd have to move to Boulder City, CO so he could have two wives.

The fit continued until 45 minutes after we got home. He had to spend that time in his room, because by then, I had a headache.

I'm kind of at a loss here, so I'm turning to you, Blogghers (and hims). How do you teach your child to make a choice?

The Boy, Wit-ified

Hello?
Is this where I'm supposed to write something witty and clever?
Oh good. I'm in the right place. Sadly, I have nothing witty or clever to impart, so instead I'll leave you with some gems from The Boy. He's rather hilarious right now, being four, and all.

"Mom, I'm hot. <pauses for effect> I get that from you." <nods solemnly> Somebody's Daddy has been teaching him how to flirt.                                                                                                   


Scene: family at the dinner table, parents discussing terabytes and petabytes.                            
The Boy: :What's a petabyte?"                                                                                              
Mom: It's a unit for measuring data.                                                                                                  
The Boy, without skipping a beat: And mommas.                                                                            
Both Parents laugh hysterically as they realize he thought mom meant DADDA.

"When did you turn four?" Look of incredulity on his face as he replies, "On my birthday". His face had that look that just screamed, "what kind of adult are you, anyway!? Of COURSE I turned four on my birthday!"

And here are some pictures he obviously thought were important enough to take up the memory on my wimpy SD card. 

I can't decide which I like best, Stoned Zsa Zsa, or Ghetto Booty Zsa Zsa. Either way, for sure he's a budding Robert Doisneau, except I don't think he paid Zsa Zsa. If he did, I'll need to have a talk with my daughter...

This report brought to you by: A slightly worried mother of future teens. Aka:IdahoBecky

Favorite Bits of "Spring Break"

This week was Spring Break for all the cousins (and, you know, the rest of the valley). It doesn't mean much to us because:

1. We "home school"
2. My oldest is four

For not being a noticeably different week, it sure tuckered out the Mom. We  had some adventures, so I thought I would share a few of the highlights.

1. On the drive to the zoo, The Boy reached across the backseat, took his sister's hand and said, "Zsa Zsa, you're my best friend".                                        If that doesn't just melt your heart, you must not have one. Talk about filling up my MommyBank. My kids could cause WWIII tomorrow and I would still be so proud of the job I've done raising them. We work hard to encourage our children to be friends and for that brief moment--success. The zoo was fun, too. :)
2. Zsa Zsa disappearing under the table during dinner, then 3 minutes later jumping up and yelling, "BE-PIZE!" It took us a bit, but we finally worked out she was yelling surprise. 
3. Zsa Zsa calling macaroni "doodles". I don't care who you are, that's cute. The Hubs thinks saying "ribbip" for a frog noise is funnier, but I disagree. 
4. The Boy, telling me he can read the pictographic "constructions" during our Wal Mart trip.
5. Friday some of the cousins got together for a hike. I brought my kids, with Zsa Zsa in the wrap on my back. She likes it fine for a while, but after 40 minutes or so, she's done. In one of my least proud momma moments, I told her she needed to stay on my back so the scary monsters wouldn't get her. It worked. <hangs head in shame>
6. After the hike, Zsa Zsa brought me three consecutive oranges to peel. She ate them all. The subsequent diapers had better be orange scented. 

PS My momma is coming to town on Tuesday and I could not possibly be more thrilled. :D :D :D :D :D

The Secret Ingredient

Lately The Boy has been very interested nay, obsessed, with cooking. Any time I start a meal, he's right by my side, standing on a 5 gallon bucket eager to "help".  Mostly I welcome this chance to teach my son. I even let him stir hot things on the stove. (Really, don't call CPS. He's very careful and coordinated. I'd never let my other child stir hot things. She won't be allowed near a stove until she's 37.) My encouraging his budding cooking skills very nearly backfired tonight.

You see, I had some taco meat simmering on the stove. The Boy had helped me thus far with the adding of various things to the pan and the stirring thereof.
He lost interest and wondered off and so I left the pan unattended for a few minutes. I'm sure you can see where this is headed.

The Boy came to find me. He informed me of the addition of "the very best gredient". I was understandably concerned. My four year old had just used the word ingredient. Also, he'd added one to my perfect taco meat. Further questioning was required.
     "What kind of ingredient?"
           "Well, it's a SECRET!  And it's all stirred in." (ack)
     "OK. but I still need to know what it is. Can you tell me?"
           "No. I don't know the name of it."
     "Can you show me?"
          "Well....OK." (The Boy, looking dejected)
We then walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen where The Boy opened to the spice drawer. This might be a good time to point out another event I've been encouraging: The smelling of spices. Always under direct supervision, of course. Until now, apparently.
He reached in, and much to my (and The Hubs) relief, he pulled out garlic powder.
Dinner was not ruined, after all. It was a tad garlic-y, though.
Please excuse me while I check into the possibility of legally changing his name to Emeril.

The Boy: He's FOUR!

I've been needing to write up the birthdays for a while now, but because I'm riddled with ADD, I keep getting sidetracked.

Also, it's not like I want random people to know EXACTLY when my children's birthdays are. You random people are fine, but those OTHER random people, not so much.

For Hubs birthday, I took him on a surprise trip to Disneyland a month before his actual birthday. On his actual birthday I made the requested waffles and for dinner that night we ended up at a hugemongous family dinner because some great aunts had come to visit. Luckily for The Hubs, I made his birthday dinner the night before. I took a cake decorated like a laptop to the party, but it fell apart before we could sing happy birthday. I guess I didn't use enough skewers...or superglue.
The Hubs momma got him a button up shirt, because that's what she always gets him, and my momma got him a game, because that's what SHE always gets him. Luckily, The Hubs likes shirts and games. Did I mention my gift was a surprise trip to Disneyland? OK, then. I win.

The Boy turned four, which is an even number. On even years we get to make a huge fuss and spend time as a family. Poor The Boy was rather sick on his actual birthday. The day before we ate the greasiest, most tasteless food I've ever paid for at the Flight Deck, a cafe in our local airport. Yuk! Then we drove to B&N where The Boy got to pick out not one, but TWO birthday books! What a lucky kiddo!
This child made out like a bandit in the present department. Mom and Dad got him a bubble gun and a Richard Scary board game. Grandma got him a lego man that is a flashlight and hooks to a headlamp and  his other grandma gave him a plasma car. He's played with all the toys every day since his birthday.

We also filled the toy room with balloons which the children fought over played with for days. I keep finding forks in there because The Boy realized forks make excellent balloon-popping instruments.

We ended up at yet another hugemongous family dinner on The Boy's birthday, so I brought another cake. Since I'd practiced earlier in the week, this one came out better. The Boy insisted it be a ghost with a pumpkin AND a spider. Since that was within the realm of my cakeology abilities, I made exactly what he asked for...and I totally copied someone else to do it.

I used this frosting, a Swiss butter cream, and it worked so well I'm going to use it again and again. Especially if lemons are in season, because I can then take the yolks and make this curd. Wow. But I probably won't make a cake shaped like a ghost. Just say'n.

Happy Birthday to my handsome, grown up boy. Momma Loves.

To see more work by my awesome friend/photographer, go here.