Yesterday, I asked him to go to time out and HE WENT.  And stayed there.

I told him no bath until he at his green beans, and he ATE THEM.

I think we're making progress. 

On a side note, does he look like Brangelina's older baby girl here to anyone?  I thought so.  (I think it's the swollen Angelina mouth from the sunburn.)

Hot dog, I love that smile. 

Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggety dog...  (He loves that Mickey Mouse Song.)  He also loves the Thomas song and rides his Thomas car around the house humming hm hm hm hm- hmhmhm, hm hm hm hm- hmhmhm...

This morning he picked up a small plastic bag from my jewelry box that had blue buttons in it. 

Those are buttons, I said.

He tried to open them.  Candy, he said.

No, they're for your clothes, see, (I held them to my shirt.)

Oh, maaan, he said.

Okay, I know I said we were leaving the dunes last post, so let's leave already.

We will have to come back once more for Evan, (I'm just warning you now, you're not clear out of the dunes yet.)

Like any other two year old boy, he hated the chair.

Why, oh WHY would I make him sit on a sinking green chair when there is so much wide-open space to run in? 

Oh the injustice!  The inhumanity!

But he doesn't understand that THIS...

is very difficult to keep in focus.

Freedom makes him happy.  So I treat him like any other client and suck it up, I do what makes him happy.

And happy is good.  So what if my quads hurt from running in a bent stoop to catch this.

I do it for other kids all year long, why not do it for him?

THIS frozen moment makes it all worth it; totally worth feeling like I actually went to a gym and did the stair master. 

And I guess can make that sacrifice.  

Labels: baby, beach, boys will be boys, conversation, Jack, national lampoon family vacations, photography, pics, summer

Dear Jack- I love you, but I am SO TIRED of picking poop out of crib spindles with Clorox wipes and washing your sheets twice a day in Oxi-clean.  The spankings and time-outs haven't worked.  You take that diaper off as fast as I can say trouble.  You are as impulsive as a... a... well, as your father. 

Someone suggested putting your sleepers on backwards but none of them are button-ups. 

Someone else suggested masking tape, and another, positive reinforcement with candy.  Seeing as how we don't have any candy around today, nor a car to go get some (one's in the shop,) and seeing as how things hit an all time high on the mess factor around here, I opted for the masking tape just last nap time. 

By the time I was finished winding it around your middle, you were staring at me with a quizzical expression.  It looked like I was putting you into your crib in a chastity belt. Or a Sumo wrestling diaper. 

Whatever it takes, I shrugged, and stood back to admire my work.

Try to take that diaper off now, buddy boy, I said, and you smiled as if you were up for the challenge.

Weh-heh-hellll........................ naptime is long over and GUESS- WHO- WON, my friend?! I did!  That's who!

I cannot TELL YOU the excitement, the adrenaline that ran through my veins when I found you shirtless, yes, but still all taped up after naptime and- GASP- with DRY sheets.  I praised you, too, (as if you hadn't tried to rip the thing off with your all of 8 teeth) but left it on by choice, gave you a handful of animal crackers to gnaw on while I went to work cutting the thang off with scissors. 

I told myself not to get too excited.  This wouldn't, in fact, solve all of the destructive behaviors going on around here.  Like the one that occurred just yesterday afternoon when you brought me the small silver decorative box with velvet inlay from our sideboard in the dining room. 

Poop, you said. 

I opened the box.  Yesss.  Poop, indeed.  Sitting on dark blue velvet like a delicacy or rare jewel.  However did that get in there and let me see your hands...

Maybe I should just tape a training pot to your tush. 

Well, then I might as well glue a bib to your chest, and the dog food to dog food bowl, and the Doritios to the top shelf of the pantry while I'm at it.  That would minimize the messes by about a third?  Maybe?

But how oh how shall I keep your father from leaving out his half-full  Dr. Pepper cans?  Maybe we could just get something that would feed it to him intravenously, like an IV bag. 

I better go Google that...

Sleep Tight, my Angel- (and I know you will because you're swaddled in masking tape)-

Mommy  

Labels: boys will be boys, dumbhead parenting, here comes trouble, Jack, Katie, letter, milestones, phases, pics

I love Summer.  Summer tans, like hers.  Summer mornings, and days, and afternoons, and evenings... like right now.

Jack and I are having appetizers; Triscuits with Muenster cheese and OJ on Ice (mine may or may not have a splash of Amaretto in it.)  The older kids are washing the dog in the shower.  Shaun has to work late, but eh, it's summer.  We'll eat cereal or sandwiches... or Triscuits with Muenster cheese.

And then there's the summer weekend mornings like this one, where the kids climb in bed with us to cuddle, and crisp summer light greets us.  (I love how you can see the word "dream" on the back of Shaun's shirt in the first picture up above.)

It is just so nice to have hardly a schedule at all, to sit with the kids while having your coffee, to do "summer" things like play in the mud puddles and go to swim school.

And let's chat a minute about swim school, shall we?  Evan is in the highest class of those tested, Madalyn in the next level down, and Jack had one-on-one lessons.  I think these lessons back-fired because now Jack LOVES to swim and both he and Charlie (the twins) jump at me simultaneously in the pool.  I literally CANNOT turn my back to watch E or M perform a dive, or there are two bobbing, clawing, flailing bodies soon next to me and thirsty for air. 

Evan was disappointed that swim class was not about showing off his tricks.  Madalyn was disappointed that swim class was not a chat room.  Madalyn ALMOST got her side breaths down, Evan ALMOST got his back stroke down... but they both learned new things and- eventually- learned to follow routine and not swim upstream. 

Still, they had their moments right up to the end of talking over the lane ropes while they waited for their turns, and swimming under them, giggling, and going back to their lane again.  It's hard to be mad when they love being together so much.  When Evan got to wear his flippers for the first time he yelled at the top of his lungs down the ENTIRE length of an Olympic sized pool, "MA-DA-LYN!  I've got FLIPPERS ON!  FLIPPERS!  LOOK!  MADALYN!  MA-DA-LYN!  FLIPPERS!  SEE??  I'M WEARING FLIPPERS!"  His swim teacher was gently gliding the kick board and trying to get him to turn around and do the exercise, but it was no use, he had an entire leg in the air and was waving it frantically toward his sister who was a half a mile away and talking the EAR off her own swim teacher. 

"FLIIIII-PEEEERS!"

Today was the final day of swim class.  This meant they FINALLY got to climb up that high dive they've been eye-balling for the past two weeks.  Evan did the whole thing in a cautious, OCD manner; in an I have set my mind on it, I WILL go through with it, but I could quite possibly wet myself along the way.  Madalyn, on the other hand, (you totally know where this is going, don't you...)

Madalyn could not get off the board fast enough.  Her red polka dot bikini a-flappin' in the air the whole several yards down.  It is HIGH.  I was a little worried about them falling off onto the concrete before getting to the end of it.  Every mom within hearing range asked me one after another, "Now how old is she?"  The older swim class students standing around waiting for the little tykes to get off their boards already were oooing and ahhhing, too.  Look!  Look at that little tiny girl!  I wouldn't have done that at that age.  Look at her!  Even the swim teachers were lifting their shades and sharing knowing looks of amusement.   

The other great thing about swim class, other than an activity in and of itself, is that I think I might have picked up two new babysitters.  Jack's teacher was SO sweet to him and they fell totally in love with each other.  He would point out all the bugs in the pool drain- "I see a bug!  You see da bug?"  and tell her "I tired of kicking," and rest his head on her shoulder. And SHE rubbed his back so tenderly, God love her.

But as short and wonderful a summer as it has been, every now and then, I am feeling that fall itch. 

Well, only in moments like this, really.  When a few hours after she cuddled so innocently, I find her letters permanently monogramming the side of my bed, on my brand spankin' new sheets.

Wasn't too bright of her to SIGN HER NAME in the felony. It's that same senseless quality that makes her such a daredevil on the high dive.

But maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.  After all, I do think of her every time I go to bed, and every time I rise.  And surprisingly, they are thoughts accompanied with a smile and fond feelings.  Feelings that make me want to smother her chlorinated hair with kisses, God love her. 

Labels: adventures in sports, Evan, here comes trouble, Jack, Madalyn, phases, pics, pictures, summer

Well, either he's brave, or just plain senseless, (and you know which one we're all leaning towards,) but he DOES resemble William Wallace from the movie, does he not?

Can you guess what he gone and done?

No, not a sunburn.

Lipstick, that's right.  You're good. 

From my makeup drawer.

Have I mentioned that he likes my makeup drawer?    

Not an ounce of remorse, tsk, tsk...  ohhhhhhhh, there would've been remorse alright if I'd known then (when I took these pictures,) what I know now... which is that he didn't leave this artwork to the porch, but also on my bedspread, my shower door, my closet wall, and the bedroom carpet.  You know how they say lipstick is one of those things you can't get out?  One of those true stains?  Well, "they" are telling the truth.

That poor bed of ours has had quite a week.  More on that another day.

Labels: boys will be boys, dumbhead parenting, here comes trouble, humor, Jack, parenthood, parenting, phases, pics, pictures

So, last week was one of the first I haven't worked in quite a while, have I mentioned that yet?  Anyway, I got all domestic-crazy and cooked more in one week than I have in my entire life.  (Slight exaggeration, but still... it was something crazy.  Flour and sugar everywhere.)  It's not that I missed cooking, but I missed eating.  I would SO hire a chef if I could.  I just don't love to cook.  But I love to take pictures.  So I took pictures while I cooked.  That helped.  And eating it helped.

I only had time to go through half of the recipes again today... so here's what's on the menu: Kentucky Butter Cake, Doug's Cauliflower, Brown Rice and Pork, and Banana Bread.  Plus, I'll include a coordinating timeline to see what kind of madness the kids got into while I cooked, because- well, I can't do BOTH!  (Duh.)

Kentucky Butter Cake 

3 c. all-purpose flour

2 c. sugar

1 t salt

1 t baking powder

1/2 t baking soda

1 c. buttermilk

1 c butter

2 t vanilla

4 eggs

sauce:

3/4 c sugar

1/3 c butter

3 T water

2 t vanilla

Okay, so let's hurry up and skip to the mouth-watering part.  Mix the dry stuff, blend in the wet stuff, yada, yada... and you end up with this:

If I worked on Food Network, this is where I would talk about how silky and smooth the batter is.  But I don't work on Food Network and I prefer to keep those adjectives to the bedroom dressing room.  So, pop this in the oven, and watch your back because there might be Barracudas in the kitchen:

Now, the yummy part- the sauce.  Start with your sugar and butter:

Add your water:

And your vanilla:

Then- and here's the part where I want to giggle excitedly- take your cake out of the oven and poke holes in it:

No, seriously.  See?  Poke holes in it.  Now technically, I think the recipe calls for a cooking skewer, but I just use whatever I can find lying around: Tinker Toys, Barbie Doll legs, Double A batteries... no, no don't use the batteries, only kidding.  In this case, I believe I used a wooden spoon.  (The skinny part, stupid.) 

Sorry.  It's been a long day.  Ignore the name-calling.  Oh!  And be sure not to poke through the other end of the cake... you should not be touching the cake pan, moron.  (Ignore it, remember?) 

Then- this is where it gets good- pour that butter sauce down into the holes.  Oh you heard me, drench it, baby!

Because then you end up with this gooey masterpiece.  That you get to EAT.

And when you turn it out, voila!  A lovely, regular, ole bundt cake.  (Except it's not, because it has the secret sauce inside keeping it moist, remember?)  This is really good served WARM.  Or toasted for breakfast with more butter on it.  What?  Don't look at me like that.  Toasted things call for more butter.

Doug's Cauliflower

1 cauliflower

honey mustard

provolone cheese

This is my mom's husband's recipe and it's a really nice way to keep your vegetables from tasting like vegetables.

Start by rinsing and then boiling your cauliflower whole, like this:

While you're waiting, pull those Sister Shubert rolls out of the freezer and do this to them.  What?  It won't kill you... today.

Carefully remove the flower and place it in a casserole dish, like so. 

Smother with honey mustard.

Well, rub it around a little so it doesn't look so sloppy.  Of course, if you get it on the dish like this, what's the point I guess?  It makes it look homemade.  Yes, it does.

Now lay those round slices of Provolone around it like this. 

Into the oven she goes.  (And this is what an oven looks like.  It's the square thing in your kitchen with wire racks.  Be sure to turn it on first.)

Time for a kid check.  Up, there's one:

And I see she's dressed herself again.  She changes clothes more than a movie star changes hair color.

The Bandaid on her big toe.  It really is fascinating.  We keep close track of our boo boos 'round here.  We count them and wear them like battle wounds.

Speaking of Bandaids... 

And out she comes, looking scrumptious.

Mm mm MM!

Banana Bread from SK

3 or 4 ripe bananas, smashed

1/3 cup melted butter

1 cup sugar (can easily reduce to 3/4 cup)

1 egg, beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon baking soda

Pinch of salt

1 1/2 cup of all-purpose flour

Mash some bananas and drop them in the butter.  Already looking pretty good, isn't it?  Well, unless you have a texture-thing, like Evan.

Mix.

Add that sugar.  Now, you could get out a spoon and just stop here.  But I am not THAT wild about bananas, no matter how much sugar and butter you throw on 'em.  So let's keep going...

Add the rest of the ingredients- HOLY SCHMOLY!  WHAT was that noise?  Did you hear that explosion?  I think that means we're overdue for a kid check. 

Why is the back of the couch and the rug sparkling, and where did the dog sprint off to?

Ah, nearby I can see that aerosol can of body glitter that my dad and his wife gave me for Christmas.  Well, now everything shimmers and smells like "warm vanilla", so who can complain, I guess.  If the dog weren't hiding under the bed I would take a picture of him for you- he is SO sparkly.  Could be on Broadway in Lion King or something... bet he'll never bite on a can again.

Well, we better keep plugging, don't worry about him, he'll come out eventually...

Pour that batter in the pan, bake her, and:

Voila.  Best toasted in the morning, and lathered with PB.  Or not toasted and lathered with PB.  (We like PB in this house- even the dog.)  But I supposed if you are out of that, more BUTTER will also do just fine.

Mom's Consomme Rice

1 stick butter

1 can beef consomme

1 can french onion soup

1 cup rice (don't use "Uncle Ben" but spend the money for the big square thing of Basmati Rice)

Kim's Pineapple Cheese Casserole from Kim

20 oz can chunk pineapple

3 T pineapple juice

1/2 c sugar

3 T flour

1 c shredded cheddar

1/4 c butter, melted

1/2 c Ritz crackers, crumbled

Okay, I'm tired of the step by step's, so can we just cut to the chase?  These are really good recipes and turn out like this:

I just put pork down in my rice when it went in the oven and covered it for some of the cooking time and it turned out great.  You cook this between an hour and hour and a half... just keep an eye on it.

This rice is so good.  Seriously.  It was great with this casserole and greens.

Here's the pineapple casserole, only you can't see it buried under all the scrumptious crumbles.

There, is that better?  YUM.  It was SO good.  I might not put quite as much sugar in it next time because my brother and I aren't huge on sweet stuff, but Shaun IS, so... he'd probably notice if I skimped out on him.  Well, we better go check on the kids.  I know where Charlie is, I know where Madalyn is... but those boys... where are they?

Jumping off the headboard, where else?  I wonder how Evan's middle initial got knocked down?  I wonder where Jack's clothes are?  I wonder a lot of things.  (This is the reason I named the photography business "How I Wonder," by the way.) 

And if YOU'RE wondering if this kid ever wears clothes, ever, ever?  No.  No, he does not.

Labels: boys will be boys, Evan, Jack, let there be butter and sour cream, Madalyn, mealtime

Two peas in a pod.  (Okay, okay, a SANDBOX.)  With no sand.

That smirk means trouble

I knew it!  Trouble.  One bat, two toddlers... you do the math.

Where is your father, little boy?  Somebody should teach you how to act.

Heartbroken.  Just heartbroken, look at him!  Where is that blonde kid's parents, already?

Interestingly enough, if you make that blonde kid share, if you nicely ask, "Jack, will you share the bat with Caleb?"  He will willingly share with a smile on his face.  But because he is the youngest, he is NOT COOL with having things ripped out of his hand.  He was NOT gonna let that happen.  No way, no how.  It's an unfortunate thing, birth order.

Oh good, they're kissing and making up...

Well, the nice one's kissing, the blonde kid is just receiving.  Typical.

A little bit of parallel play, that's good, work it out, boys.

Now that no one's looking, Goldilocks is gonna pay for what he done...

Whatever happened to these days?

Labels: boys will be boys, friends, humor, Jack, photography, pics, pictures

Today was a full day. All of Spring Break will be full, actually... gotta keep the rascals busy.

We started the morning at the park with friends, then we came home for naps/work. Then we took a swim in the pool and began to think towards dinner and soccer practice, which was when I remembered it was my day to pray and took 5 at the computer to write an email prayer.

BIG MISTAKE. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID. I completely forgot that I can't do anything but children when said children are awake, OR ELSE BAD THINGS HAPPEN:

And see the STUPIDEST part of the above was that I spoon-fed them the idea. Oh, you heard me.

Shaun and I were being stupid with them on the couch, and I tried to scare them with Evan's safety scissors, making snip noises around their heads... and Shaun said, "what are you doing?" But before he even said it I thought, 'what am I DOING?' Like one of those moments when your hands are still moving even though your brain is saying stop, stop, FOR THE LOVE OF SOFT BLONDE HAIR, STOOOOOOP!!!

I think I just wrote stupid and stop like five times each, didn't I? Well, if this were Sesame Street those would be the adjectives of the day. Okay, so stop isn't an adjective (but Sesame Street doesn't do more than letters anyway,) oh just STOP talking, Katie...

She looks okay with the bow though, right? LOOK CLOSER! Just to the right of the bow... and notice how high up the bow is, because her hair is THAT SHORT NOW. What, you can't see it?

Maybe you can see here? No?

Well how about HERE:

Gave herself a nice set of bangs, she did. Was very upset with herself, actually. (This shot taken after the melt-down.) Thinks she looks like Jacky, and I'm not gonna disagree with her, although she also resembles a page boy, or maybe one of those child actresses from an 80's sitcom, the way it goes back to her ear and all.

So while we had a long talk, she and I, and panicked a bit, Jack was still in the shower where I had left him... right? Right? RIGHT?

Wrong.

"Jack... Jacky? Where are you?"

Oh, there you are.

I'm so glad you brought your car. What's a mud bath without a car? Come to think of it, what's anything without a car? What's life without a car? Life with no cars would have no meaning- meaningless, all meaningless!

"CAWWWRRR!!!" (Your favoritest word in all the world.)

Hmmm, you still have no idea I'm standing behind you with a camera. You are having yourself a PAR-TAY, aren't ya now, boy?

Oh and look at that, you've been baking. And eating. No need to think towards dinner now, at least there's that.

What's that? I can't hear you, what with all that mud in your mouth and everything? What are you asking me? Do I know the muffin man?

PS- PEOPLE! I am NOT pregnant, are you CRAZY? Although, thank you for the many emails (and phone calls.) I think this post explains WHY I have closed my womb for business... and after today's events, you all should be sending me extra birth control ASAP.

Labels: boys will be boys, dumbhead parenting, here comes trouble, Jack, Madalyn, parenthood, parenting, pics

It is all too familiar, watching this movie, and yet! We were just enough removed to be able to laugh instead of cry.

Steve, Steve. Tsk, tsk. He thought if only he could be a better parent, his kid might be more well-adjusted. (So easy to leave that whole "born under a curse to sin and be sinned against" thing out of it when you come up with your parenting philosophies, isn't it?) Poor Steve kept forgetting. He kept thinking if only he tried harder, parented better his kid would be wholly confident and complete, not lacking anything... wait, why does that sound familiar? Oh right, that's what JESUS can give them. Not me? Not me, not me? Pretty please??? Let me help??

I have NO idea what that sort of anxiety is like as a parent. NONE whatsoever. (I'm telling a bold-faced lie, OF COURSE.) But it's funny how someone else being crazy in the same way you are crazy makes you somehow feel more normal. (You know, a normal kind of crazy.)

Anyway. This blog title came to mind when I was browsing friends' blog sites and found a consistent theme throughout- a particular child repeatedly unsupervised on various blog-sites, left to poke at babies, climb on machinery, and rub candy in chairs just like the third-born Justin on Parenthood:

Example One

Example Two

Example Two B

Example Two C

Example Three

Labels: dumbhead parenting, Jack

Which one do you lean towards? I'm not sure which one I will order for his album... he's growing so fast. He's the worst toddler I've raised, into ev-e-ry-thing. He doesn't play with toys- Evan's matchbox cars while making soft 'voom' sounds, that's it. He much prefers his daddy's drawer of electronics, or my drawer of make-up to the piles of toys we have lying around here. He prefers countertops to floors, toilet water to his sippy cup. Says 'nah' for yes. Whines when you turn off the bath water. Whines when you say 'no'. Whines when the music's not on in the car, when the window's not down, when the d.j. changes the song on the radio. Rubs mascara into our carpets and peanut butter onto our couch. Takes his diaper off five times a day...

but look at that face. I love him. xoxoxo

Labels: Jack, photography

Last night I attended a Christmas party for my Bible study group.  The hostess, Jaime, made these candy canes.  I brought some home with me and this morning we had them with our coffee...

This was how Madalyn had hers- in hot cocoa, of course.

This was how Jack had his. 

Evan was at school already, but he's not a huge fan of candy canes anyway.

About an hour later, we pulled out the dip I took last night and Jack thought he was the coolest when he was allowed to dip his own crackers:

Then, when Madalyn and I turned our backs, he got a little out of control...

Ohhh, that's right, boy!  You are SOOO BUSTED!  Get off that table!  GET!

But the dip- back to the dip- the dip is the best hot dip you'll ever put in your mouth.  (I just said dip four times in one sentence.)

Heart of Palm Dip from Lynda Wilkerson

2 14 oz. cans Heart of Palm, drained and finely chopped

2 cups (8 oz.) shredded Mozzarella

1 1/2 cups mayo

1 cup Parmesan cheese

1/2 cup sour cream

2 T minced green onion 

Mix ingredients and spoon into shallow and greased casserole dish.  Bake at 350 for 30 minutes or so until bubbly.  Serve with Triscuits and/or Wheat Thins.

Labels: Christmas, Jack, let there be butter and sour cream

Labels: doctor, Jack

Every morning Evan appears in our room first. He crawls into my side of the bed, smothers me with kisses and we cuddle until Madalyn appears. Madalyn then says one of two things: a) "Feed me. Will you feed me, mommy? Get out of your bed." b) "Can I go see Jacky? Evan, come see Jacky with me?" Or, as often is the case, she starts with a and when that's shut down moves on to option b.

Shaun snores and I lie and there and try to determine if I can go back to sleep on a full bladder until someone hurts someone else and the wailing on the monitor will not taper; that's when I roll out of bed and reach in an uncoordinated, exhausted fashion for my glasses (if Madalyn has not already brought them to me,) and retrieve the children. Breakfast commences.

Peanut butter toast and cereal are the staples, and often bananas for Jack. Lately, he insists- (and by "insists" I mean protests with the volume and tenacity of the UAW)- on using a fork. He is undoubtedly soon to start a Union called "United Utensil Users of America," which would conveniently suit his limited vocabulary as UUUA might be something he could babble.

The problem with this for us is that he's utensily challenged. It's that horrible phase where you know you have to let them have the weapons or how will they ever learn to use them, but should we really give weapons to a baby and do we really have to clean up Ground Zero after every meal now? I mean, my hands are so weak in the morning I can hardly hold my coffee cup and certainly couldn't tie a shoelace to save my life... should I, then, really be expected to pick banana goo off the tile with my thumbnail?

This particular morning we went through all of these rituals and got to phase 4, where Shaun and I sit like Zombies on the couch, staring vacantly at the Mickey Mouse Club and clutching our coffee with Whipped Cream (to help us escape,) when we hear a clank on the floor and wailing to follow. The baby has dropped his fork... again.

I get the fork and push the baby back to the table as he has pushed himself away. When my rump hits the couch another clank sounds. Shaun yells something Homer Simpsonesque and takes his turn retrieving the fork. After about 20 more rounds and scoldings of this, we debate taking the fork away. (And I know what you're thinking- really- it took 20 rounds before you even thought about confiscating it?) But please keep in mind that Jack is a United Utensil User of America. His career and every ounce of his being hinge on using that fork, stabbing that banana, and getting that thing to his mouth. If you could see the half moon of one stuck to his forehead and the concentration in his eyes, you would understand. Taking it away is simply not an option. We simply can not take away the very pinnacle of his self-worth.

So Shaun offered up another solution: I'll go look for some string and we'll tie it to his wrist.

Now, the enablers of the Pacifier Users of America came up with the leash idea a long time ago, so it was only a matter of time before the enablers of the UUUA did the same. And the very exciting part of all of this is that when Shaun gets it patented we will be rich, people. Rich like Henry Ford. And then I might hire somebody to make breakfast for us, to bring ME my coffee and clean up the poop in the crib.

Labels: Evan, Jack, Madalyn, mealtime, parenting

Last weekend was one of those where the kids were into EVERY thing. It rained some- was hot and buggy- and since they weren't outdoors expending energy, bad things went down.

There was the mountain of unrolled toilet paper in the bathroom, the pizza grease and juice box on the carpet, the "potions" found on the counters and smeared on mirrors, and the usual slew of toys strewn from foyer to back stoop.

Last night I opened Woman's Day to an article on finding relaxation in the every day: "The Slow Lane; 13 ways to stop rushing, recharge and take back your life" by Chrystie Fielder. It featured a picture of a woman sitting on a white chair with a white fur blanket in casually sexy pjs sipping a cup of tea. Her skin was flawless and porcelain, her eyebrows perfectly arched, her lashes perfectly long, and her full lips slightly curved in a peaceful smile. The article discussed decompressing between tasks, taking naps, listening to a song on the radio before the next errand, and finding "me" time.

Two words for obviously childless and young (spells her name with a "y" and "ie")Chrystie: YAAAAH RIGHT!

I mean, I like what she's saying and I agree that some time of solitude every day would be very appreciated, but that usually doesn't happen without someone needing their bottom wiped. Sure, I could listen to a song between errands IF I COULD HEAR IT over the impatient brood in the back crying out for drink, food, potty and Revolution. Sure, I could find myself a white fur blanket and modern white chair to sit on with a cup of tea... I could even buy myself some new, casually sexy pjs, and get some eyelash extensions... but that would be ridiculous. The chair would be covered in small hand prints, the blanket in soggy Cheerios, and my tea would get cold while I changed the world's grossest diaper, (simultaneously putting the casually sexy pjs at risk of being soiled, my lash extensions at risk of becoming dislodged during the "wrestle the baby" routine.)

I love, love, love my strong, wrestle-mania-bound children. I am thankful they are healthy and that they are mine. But I can't help but find it humorous when articles attempt to make it sound like there is a way to have it all in this intense season. This becomes blatantly clear when one is cleaning up child A's spilt milk and the two tiny hands of Child C scoop, cup, and lift one's buttox in an attempt to see exactly what is taking place.

You've seen the chapters in marriage books about staying romantically involved during the child-rearing years. Well would somebody please admit that that's a huge oxymoron? Somebody! I mean, would I not- WOULD I NOT- have to have multi-personalities to transition seamlessly from one a_ _ - grabbing in the kitchen to another in the bedroom?? I would, Amen?! "Karen" would handle the kitchen, and "Katalina," the master suite... and "Katie" would come blog to you about it...

(And Chrystie with a "y" and "ie" should probably stick to articles about purses, or fake tanners, or else label her pieces warning: does not apply to women with preschoolers- bahahaha.)

Labels: Jack, parenting

One boy of mine was tucked away at school tracing the letter "t," while the other did this:

Seems peaceful enough, right? Well, don't be so quick to assume such, because MEANWHILE, the OTHER child, the GIRL, was doing THIS:

Labels: Jack, Madalyn, parenting

Yesterday was Evan and Madalyn's Open House and it went fine; uneventful (which is always good.) He is in pre-school for four days a week, and Madalyn in Mom's Day Off for 2 days a week. But after the Open House, after Madalyn requested a peanut butter and honey sandwich, she refused to eat it. I knew something wasn't right. She sat and stared, then pouted and whimpered.

"What's wrong, sweetie," I asked.

"Mommy, I'm a little bit jealous."

She learned that word in association to Tinker Belle's feelings toward Wendy. "Jealous. Do you mean nervous?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm a little bit nervous."

"About school?"

She started crying at just the mention of it. We cuddled and rocked and Evan and I both assured her she would love school, but I wondered how it would pan out this morning...

Last night she even said she needed to be tucked into bed because she had to go to school in the morning and it seemed the anticipation was killing her and she wanted to get it over with already. All the way to school she asked how long it would take and if we were there yet and so on... she was the only one of the three that hated to be left in the nursery as a baby. The only way they got her to stay was by showing her sparkly things; jewels on a bracelet or sequins on a shoe...

But as soon as we arrived and she saw a bunch of kids running around outside, she was in her element and just fine. She almost ran in the classroom without kissing me, I said, "wait! Give me a kiss, be good."

"I will," she said with attitude, like 'aren't I always' and her teacher laughed and parroted her.

Evan ran right in... the day couldn't have come fast enough for him. He couldn't wait to play on the big playground this year. When I walked back past his door after dropping his sister off, he smirked at me like "I know, I'm so cool- totally in my comfort zone- you go on and have your day, mom..."

And so I did.

It was weird to get into the car with just Jack. Funny how your first rocks your world at the time, and yet now I'm a free woman with just one.

We attended a "Boo Hoo Brunch" at Stephanie's where Jack was both intrigued and traumatized by the dog, where Jack made sure to remind me just HOW overdue he was for a nap, just HOW cruel I was for making him skip it.

We went to Walmart where he pitched a screeching screaming fit until I quit talking to his father so he could play with my cellphone. We dropped off the groceries and he slept while I put him from the car, to the crib, back to the car again. Phew.

Mom's Day Off passes QUICKLY, let me tell you.

I got Madalyn first. She was short a red hairbow that I found tucked in her cubby and she immediately helped herself to the treasure box of candy after watching Evan do it for an entire year. Her teachers said she was BUSY. She was, apparently, into everything, wanted to "pet" the class fish who DID NOT want to be pet by the squawky toddler thumping his bowl. But the teacher laughed and assured me she was fine. She was Evan's teacher last year, so I didn't fuss on about it, I took her at her word and told her to keep her line. :)

We picked up Evan who was dismayed to find out that the preschool class no longer picks from a treasure box because they are too old and mature for such trifle rewards.

My personal favorite part of the day was listening to Evan and Madalyn chatter on about their days and ask each other questions the ENTIRE car ride home until we pulled into the driveway. What's in your lunch, Madalyn? What did you eat first, Madalyn? What was in your lunch, Evan? Did you go to the playground, Evan? Excuse me, Madalyn, um, did you get to pick out of the treasure box?

The following is the information I was able to obtain on the way home, which I have already emailed with friends and gotten their info... we figure exchanging it, we just may get a good idea of how their days really went:

From Evan:

Played Legos with a kid named Fred, colored a pic of himself, and Madalyn and Jack but didn’t have time to draw Jacks’ legs and would have to finish them at home. Played hide n seek on the playground with Ethan. Greyson was a night monster that Evan and Aubrey and Jacob were hiding from and also trying to put in jail for 20 years to break the spell (Evan created the game.) Matthew got a time-out, didn’t remember why. Ate all is lunch. First his sandwich, then his applesauce, then his Teddy Grahams. The day went very fast even though he did not get to move up to the bigger kid playground as hoped.

Jack with no legs, Evan and Madalyn :)

Madalyn: Played with Sydney. Sydney pee pee’ed in her pants and it got all over the slide. Played cars with Aaron. Nodded that yes there were, in fact, two Sydney’s and two Madalyn’s in her class. Went pee pee on potty but chose NOT to wipe… will try to choose TO wipe next time. Favorite thing was lunchtime. Did not watch a movie but listened to music about cleaning up.

Since then, this also in from Stephanie and Dana:

Stephanie:

Ethan said he played with the cars and that no one played with him. I told him that maybe next time he needs to go ask a friend to come play with him if wants to play with someone. He told me he couldn’t do that this time because he didn’t want anyone to play with the cars when he walked away…..

YES, Sydney pee pee’ed on the slide. I knew as soon as I went to pick her up and saw her in purple pants that I had never seen before. Ms. Sandy laughed since I actually had a ‘just in case’ bag for Sydney this morning and forgot to give it to her so now she has it….. I’m perplexed by how Sydney can stay dry all night and then have accidents during the day but I know she’ll get it soon…..very, VERY soon would be nice J Sydney said her favorite part was playing on the playground.

That’s pretty much all I got… with all the papers Ethan brought home, it looks like they kept them BUSY! What smart teachers.

Dana:

I love hearing the different perspectives kids have of the SAME classroom. Fun.

Aaron: I asked him if he read the note I put in his lunchbox, and he told me, yes, it said: "Thank you ms. Sandi for my gold fish snack". That is NOT what the note said....it said, have a great day at school Aaron. Love Mommy.

But, whatever.

Then he wanted to know why I didn't pack him applesauce in his lunchbox.....even though I told him THREE times this morning, that we didn't have any applesauce and I'd buy some at the store on Friday. He continued to reinforce, the importance of packing applesauce next time. Point taken.

Aubrey: said she learned about the letter "L" and about places in America...like "North" and the "North Pole"??? Her favorite part of her day was playing on the playground. And she said Ethan pulled her on the playground, and said "Common Aubrey", so she came.

Shannon: Was crying when I picked her up.....her teacher said she had a great day, but got upset when she saw the other moms picking up their kids. So she only cried the last 5 minutes....and she was clutching a chocolate chip cookie in her hand, that her teacher must have used to try to appease her. Then she had another meltdown in the hallway outside of Aarons room, because Aaron got to pick a candy out of the treasure box, and she wanted one. Three minutes, and one tootsie roll later, she was happy as could be. (Note to self: Pick up Aaron first next time, so Shannon doesn't see the treasure chest full of candy that is NOT for her).

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So, it will be interesting to find out what tomorrow holds... but for now I must go because I have homework to do with my almost five year old. :)

Labels: Evan, Jack, Madalyn, school

Labels: Jack, parenthood, siblings

Jack,

This morning you locked eyes with me from across the breakfast table and smacked a deliciously loud kiss my way. After my heart splintered with a loud crack, and the neighbor shouted timber, I thought, ‘That’s it. Today I write a post.’ So I’m diving in… one, two—

Eleven months now, and you’re such a delight. Your favorite activities are dancing, clapping, and climbing the stairs. It’s particularly hilarious to climb them while I’m making dinner. You take it nice and slow, peeking over your shoulder to see if I’m game and on the chase. You slow your pace mid-stairs so that I can catch up and we rupture into a fit of tickling fingers and belly laugh