Every time I answer a phone call, it's basically a get out of jail free card for my kids. All bad behavior becomes untouchable, uncontrollable, and unavoidable. This post is about how I handle my children when on the phone. Imagine a living room devoid of furniture and littered with toys. It's the witching hour. Personalities are starting to intensify, no one likes each other right now as we wait impatiently for dinner...the phone rings...like an idiot, I answer it. Let the games begin.
Now that I am distracted, Sedric's pent up man energy gets the best of him, he attacks Rafe. She falls to the floor with Sedric wrapped around her torso like a sarong. He bumps his chin on her shoulder in the kerfuffle...its his fault, but he pulls Rafe's hair for punishment for making him (his perspective) bump his chin while he pummeled her and sent her to the ground like a felled tree.
Rafe is enraged and using her zombie Apocalypse shriek to make her displeasure known.
I have been on the phone for 60 sec at this point and I already have forgotten who I am talking to and from which I deduct: there will be no meaningfully expressed words coming from my end of the conversation today, just randomly muttered "uh-huh's" at any pause in the conversation as I dodge the dead spots in our suburban home while my children evoke each other to murderous rage and mischief.
The kids are in crisis mode. They begin hoarding food from the pantry. Sedric has climbed to top cupboard shelves and is liberating the fruit snacks and gold fish. Our kitchen is raining snack food. The girls are dancing and singing Sedric's praises below as food adorns their Afros. I'm running between the living room where the baby is laying on the floor in a sea of toys and the kitchen where the older kids are acting like desert island survivors. I storm into the kitchen flailing my free arm snapping my fingers and posturing my displeasure with a savage stink eye trying not to interrupt the person (I still can't remember their name) on the phone. The children scatter...or do they? I walk back to the living room feeling powerful and in control and naively think I may be able to salvage this conversation after all...NAIVE. All is quiet...not a good sign. I get back up off the floor where I am playing with the baby and walk back into the kitchen...the pantry doors are open. The fruit snacks are missing. The gold fish are missing...CRAP. Luck for me, my kids aren't good at covering their tracks yet...I follow the trail of fallen crushed food to the family room where they are sitting behind the couch in the window laughing at their completed caper. They are munching loudly. I appear very unexpectedly over the back of the couch. The children are taken aback. They are now choking and crying from displeasure and surprise as I rip the snack boxes out of their grubby little hands and throw them back into the pantry. They are really upset now...hind sight, I should have just fed them and turned the TV on...but, like an idiot, I didn't.
Peniel begins asking me questions I can't answer for obvious reasons: I AM ON THE PHONE. She wants to know when we can go to the store to buy ingredients to make perfume and the go to Home Depo to buy metal to make a perfume making machine...I keep shaking my head at her as if to say, "I have no idea!" She is getting frustrated with me and storms off to gather her thoughts before coming back to assault me with them. The baby is now beginning to fuss so I pick her up and bounce her. It's not helping. I begin to scour the floor with my feet in search of her binky...no luck, so I bounce her faster, she burps and spits up down my shirt and all over the carpet...CRAP. I have completely forgotten at this point that I am on the phone with someone...I mumble, "dang it!" under my breath as I accidentally step in the puddle of spit up. I almost drop the phone in surprise when I hear a concerned person in my ear ask, "is everything ok over there?" What? Is that you God? I lie and say, "Of course everything is fine! Now, what were you saying?" The uh-huh conversation resumes. The baby is demanding her dinner by violently grabbing my shirt and head butting me in the chest...subtle as a train wreck. Peniel returns. She has something to say. She begins telling me how I lied to her last year when I told her I would buy her a canvas so she could paint, and she still didn't have one so I have ruined her dream of being an artist...AND ruined her dream of being a perfume maker...I think she had a picture of herself in her head as a scientist in a white lab coat, wearing goggles brewing and pouring concoctions into a sea of beakers with one hand and painting pictures of horses with her other hand...and I was ruining it all! I whisper to her, "I'll help you become famous later...but not right now, I'M ON THE PHONE." Sedric and Rafe paddle into the room and collapse on the floor complaining about wanting dinner. The room is getting too loud but there is no where to go BECAUSE THEY WILL JUST FOLLOW ME and there are too many dead spots in the quieter places in our home, it's all working against me...the baby is soaking my shirt with baby slime growling at me for her dinner, Peniel is still recounting her grievances, and Sedric and Rafe are whining...and the person on the phone is still nameless! OY VEY. I interrupt the nameless person on the phone to express my apologies for being distracted during our conversation only to realize I had stepped into the dead zone and lost the call...CRAP. The kicker is, I still couldn't remember who I was talking to so I could call them back!! Oh well, I tried. I put down the phone in defeat, shake my head and sigh, all the while I am thinking, "I promise to never again answer the phone while the kids are awake."
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Everytime I am on the phone...
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5 most embarrassing interactions with new neighbors
This post is about 2 weeks late due to some DIY projects I've had going... BUT, I FINALLY FINISHED IT, SO ENJOY!! And please vote for my blog by clicking the Top Mommy Blog link on my sidebar! I truly appreciate it!
We have lived in our new house about 2 weeks now...in one day, my kids have embarrassed me about 2 years worth in one 20 minute conversation with 2 of our new neighbors...here is what they said...in list format...least embarrassing to most embarrassing:
1) While talking to the neighbor, Sedric decided to be funny and break out his "potty" humor. He started laughing when the neighbor asked him what he was thinking about, he responded, more quickly than I could remind him of his manners, "I want to poop on your fence." SPEECHLESS.
2) While talking to the neighbor who is holding her tiny infant baby girl, Rafe asks the neighbor in a very matter of fact kind of way, "I want to see her baby boobs." SPEECHLESS.
3) Peniel see's the neighbor out in her yard, she starts waving at her. The neighbor waves back and smiles. Peniel marches over to the fence and yells in all her first born glory, "Hey! Your yard is a mess! You should clean it!" SPEECHLESS.
4) While talking to the neighbor with the infant, Peniel declares, "Babies are so cute! I'M definitely gonna have a baby when I am 17!" SPEECHLESS.
And lastly, the most embarrassing interaction in this 20 minute embarrassment gauntlet:
5) While I was introducing myself and my kids to another neighbor we just met 5 minutes prior, Peniel chimes into the conversation with this little gem of a comment, "yeah, my mom doesn't like it when we disobey, she takes our toys away from us, and our dessert, AND tells us we have to sleep in the garage!" SPEECHLESS.
Just for the record, my kids have never slept in the garage or been threatened with sleeping in the garage...she pulled that out of left field, I think she enjoys shocking people with outlandish faulsehoods, anyways...the look on the neighbor's face seemed to say, "there goes the neighborhood." I am now afraid to meet any of the other neighbors for fear of complete social ruin...I have a feeling we might be becoming "that family" in the neighborhood that everyone talks about with raised eyebrows...thanks kids. Thanks a lot. I can just hear the whispers now...did you hear those kids in that white house the other day? Are they raising wild animals in there? Do thy ever stop fighting? She needs to close her windows when they are screaming, the noise is bothering my designer dog."
Coincidentally, I have not seen nor spoken to either of our new neighbors since the 20 minute embarrassment gauntlet...I am telling myself it's all a coincidence and has nothing to do with the shocking behavior from my kids...I wonder if I will ever see them again?
My kids do yell a lot. They do fight a lot. They run around a lot making all sorts of noise that makes you wish you were deft...some days you would never know that I do teach my kids good manners, but I do...scouts honor! They have minds of their own however and sometimes say what ever pops into their minds more quickly than I can install their manners! Kids. Parenting. Never dull. Never predictable. NEVER.
The issue I have is that I am cruelly outnumbered 4 to 1 and they know it...they get away with more than I care to confess to, but it's true. Some days I am just too tired to catch everything...some days I have a short fuse and talk a little louder and harsher than I should, some days, everyone naps and I feel like a new person...but lately, that is only a very few "some days"...some days it really bothers me that nothing goes the way I want and none of my laundry gets done or we have to eat cereal for dinner again because I didn't make it to the store... some days, I cry about it... but that's when I tell myself it's ok because I love them, they love me, a little extra cereal eating never hurt anyone, and I am doing my best. Some days, eating cereal for dinner is my best. Some days, not getting the laundry done is my best...Some days, making it through the day without strangling my children is my best. I am constantly having to remind myself that I don't need to be concerned with someone else's definition of a successful day...some days, I have to remind myself a lot. I am just thankful that even tho I have a lot of "some days" I still deeply love my kids every day.
We have lived in our new house about 2 weeks now...in one day, my kids have embarrassed me about 2 years worth in one 20 minute conversation with 2 of our new neighbors...here is what they said...in list format...least embarrassing to most embarrassing:
1) While talking to the neighbor, Sedric decided to be funny and break out his "potty" humor. He started laughing when the neighbor asked him what he was thinking about, he responded, more quickly than I could remind him of his manners, "I want to poop on your fence." SPEECHLESS.
2) While talking to the neighbor who is holding her tiny infant baby girl, Rafe asks the neighbor in a very matter of fact kind of way, "I want to see her baby boobs." SPEECHLESS.
3) Peniel see's the neighbor out in her yard, she starts waving at her. The neighbor waves back and smiles. Peniel marches over to the fence and yells in all her first born glory, "Hey! Your yard is a mess! You should clean it!" SPEECHLESS.
4) While talking to the neighbor with the infant, Peniel declares, "Babies are so cute! I'M definitely gonna have a baby when I am 17!" SPEECHLESS.
And lastly, the most embarrassing interaction in this 20 minute embarrassment gauntlet:
5) While I was introducing myself and my kids to another neighbor we just met 5 minutes prior, Peniel chimes into the conversation with this little gem of a comment, "yeah, my mom doesn't like it when we disobey, she takes our toys away from us, and our dessert, AND tells us we have to sleep in the garage!" SPEECHLESS.
Just for the record, my kids have never slept in the garage or been threatened with sleeping in the garage...she pulled that out of left field, I think she enjoys shocking people with outlandish faulsehoods, anyways...the look on the neighbor's face seemed to say, "there goes the neighborhood." I am now afraid to meet any of the other neighbors for fear of complete social ruin...I have a feeling we might be becoming "that family" in the neighborhood that everyone talks about with raised eyebrows...thanks kids. Thanks a lot. I can just hear the whispers now...did you hear those kids in that white house the other day? Are they raising wild animals in there? Do thy ever stop fighting? She needs to close her windows when they are screaming, the noise is bothering my designer dog."
Coincidentally, I have not seen nor spoken to either of our new neighbors since the 20 minute embarrassment gauntlet...I am telling myself it's all a coincidence and has nothing to do with the shocking behavior from my kids...I wonder if I will ever see them again?
My kids do yell a lot. They do fight a lot. They run around a lot making all sorts of noise that makes you wish you were deft...some days you would never know that I do teach my kids good manners, but I do...scouts honor! They have minds of their own however and sometimes say what ever pops into their minds more quickly than I can install their manners! Kids. Parenting. Never dull. Never predictable. NEVER.
The issue I have is that I am cruelly outnumbered 4 to 1 and they know it...they get away with more than I care to confess to, but it's true. Some days I am just too tired to catch everything...some days I have a short fuse and talk a little louder and harsher than I should, some days, everyone naps and I feel like a new person...but lately, that is only a very few "some days"...some days it really bothers me that nothing goes the way I want and none of my laundry gets done or we have to eat cereal for dinner again because I didn't make it to the store... some days, I cry about it... but that's when I tell myself it's ok because I love them, they love me, a little extra cereal eating never hurt anyone, and I am doing my best. Some days, eating cereal for dinner is my best. Some days, not getting the laundry done is my best...Some days, making it through the day without strangling my children is my best. I am constantly having to remind myself that I don't need to be concerned with someone else's definition of a successful day...some days, I have to remind myself a lot. I am just thankful that even tho I have a lot of "some days" I still deeply love my kids every day.
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It got away from me
I will start this post off with my husbands advice to me today before leaving for work...I was contemplating finishing painting Rafe and Sedric's rooms out loud. Jack interrupted my A.D.D. multitasking "we just moved into a new house, so I need to decorate" train of thought with this little nugget, "If I were you, I wouldn't do ANYTHING that is gonna increase your stress or make it harder to manage the kids today..." I filed it away under: NOT GONNA HAPPEN. I had too much to get done, AND I needed to workout...I smiled, nodded, then shoved him out the door for work. As soon as he pulled out of the driveway, operation, PERSONAL AGENDA was instated. I put my workout clothes on naively thinking it meant I would actually workout. I began barking out orders to the kids about picking up their toys, stop fighting, lower your voice, don't jump off the couch, STOP, STOP, STOP, yadda, yadda, yadda, etc, etc, etc...you get the picture. I told them to go play. They would come into the kitchen to see what I was doing, GO PLAY. They would ask me to play with them. NO, GO PLAY. They would need help with something. GIVE ME A SEC, I would say. I decided to tackle internet issues...I decided to tackle cell phone issues, we barely have reception in our new house. I decided to catch up with friends through text, so my phone was lit up. I was Pinteresting like mad! I decided to decorate Peniel's room. I was half way through a Pinterest project when my son rebelled. I had shewed him away one too many times...he snapped... I had activated the secret code for meltdown...5...4...3...2...1...MISTAKE. He threw a fit about everything. I refused to stop my march toward DIY insanity. At nap time, between maddening attempts at cutting shapes out of fabric with dull scissors, I chased Sedric up the stairs every 3 minutes whisper yelling at him to stay in his room. He chased me back down in a fit of defiance. 2 hours of this...I told him no dessert for boys who don't obey. He didn't care. I told him no golf clubs for boys who don't obey. He didn't care. I told him no cartoons for boys who don't obey. He didn't care. I told him no dump trucks for boys who don't obey. HE DIDN'T CARE. I had nothing left to leverage, nothing left to take away from him...he had no intention of giving in, he was in it to win it and I still had too many projects going, I didn't want to quit either. Somewhere in my head, my husband's advice was circling looking for a place to land, but I wasn't ready to clear the landing strip, I wanted my day, my way...I pressed on painting, cutting fabric, cleaning windows, and organizing non essentials. I was stressed. Upset. Unhappy. Mean. Sweating, and way too stubborn for a mom of 4 kids. My day, my way bit me and left a mark. The day dragged on tediously. I finally hit my limit while sitting on the floor changing the baby. It was an hour til dinner. I had nothing to make. I had paint under my nails, something sticky stuck to my hair. Sedric was complaining dinner was taking too long, Peniel was wanting to show me her story she wrote, Rafe was calling for me to help her get her princess dress on, and the baby just wanted me to look at her...I wanted to cry, but I didn't...I looked at the baby, she looked up at me giggling and garnished with spit up...I smiled at her, made a few silly faces, she laughed..that's when it hit me...I LOVE BEING A MOM...so what was I doing?! Barking orders. Agendas. Ultimatums. Anger. This wasn't me. I love playing with my kids, listening to their stories, helping them do dress up, letting them help with projects...I love being happy and nice...today got away from me. It happens. It's horrible when it happens, but it happens. I have a mountain of excuses I can use to justify today, but I'm not going to. There is no formula for parenting. No manual. No advice line. No frequently asked questions page...some days, it all comes together, some days it all falls apart, and today, it fell apart. I am glad today is just about over. I'm glad I redeemed this FALL APART DAY as I hugged and kissed my kids before bed and told them I love them. I'm glad they hugged me back. I glad tomorrow is a fresh new day...no projects planned for tomorrow. Tomorrow, my workout won't happen conventionally, my projects will go untouched or slightly less organized cuz little hands will be helping, my house will be messy, but my kids will be happy and that makes my heart full.
Blackeyed Beauty
I was having one of those "fun" days with my kids...letting them run buck-wild all day, watch cartoons all day, eat too much junk all day, have bad manners all day...I was too tired to captain the ship that day...now that I think about it, my 2 year old was naked all day...it was one of those days. Normally, I would write off that kind of day, file it away under HOT MESS, and move on...this day was slightly harder to file away...
My 3 year old loves to put on makeup, layer upon layer until the face is no longer recognizable as being human. Today, I was her victim. She spent an hour brushing my hair, ripping my hair out with every stroke and repeatedly saying, "this is gonna hurt." She was right. Once she achieved the perfect comb-over that started from my left ear and stretched unnaturally to my right ear, she then turned her thorough eye to doing my makeup. She fancied the purple eye shadow today. I never looked in the mirror...not once. While she was beautifying my tortured hair with butterfly clips and making my skin burn from all the makeup application and then rough, swift removal after each stroke of the lip gloss wand and cheap worn out eye shadow sponge, I received a text from a lady responding to my Craigslist ad...I am selling a couch. She wanted to come see it today, I told her to come on over. She said she would be there in 15 mins...I got up, I thanked my 3 yr old for the quality time, then I went downstairs...
I walked past my 6 yr old, she smiled at me, I smiled back.
I walked past my 2 yr old, he asked me for a snack, I said no, he threw a fit, I didn't care, I was selling a couch.
I walked past MY HUSBAND...HE SAID NOTHING.
The doorbell rings.
I answer it.
The lady looks at me with a peculiar look on her face.
I smile and chat her up, as is my custom when I sell things.
I show her the couch.
She says its nice, but keeps looking at me with a furrowed brow.
I wonder what her problem is...
She says she needs to think about the couch.
She looks at me one more time before leaving...it was awkward.
I walk back in the house, have a 5 MIN CONVERSATION WITH MY HUSBAND about something I can't remember.
I realize I need to go to the bathroom.
I walk into the bathroom and sit down.
I look up into the mirror.
I scream!
What stared back at me was reminiscent of a movie I had recently watched...
I looked like the gum smacking blueberry girl from Willy Wonka...the heavy purple eye shadow ALL. OVER. MY FACE.!! I was completely purple.
SPEECHLESS.
How did this happen?!
Embarrassed is too friendly a word for what I feel.
Begin blame shifting IMMEDIATELY!
I storm out of the bathroom with thunder and lightening in my steps and yell at my husband, "JACK! How did you not notice?!!!"
He sat on the couch, mouth agape, dumbfounded as he stares at me...revelation slowly dawning in his eyes...he then says, "UMMM, I don't...WAIT, how did YOU not notice?!"
TOUCHE...but I don't tell him that, instead...
My eyes narrow, I purse my lips into a duck face getting ready to have a conniption.
The children sense the tension.
They stop what they are doing.
They stare.
Even the dog stares.
I take an exaggerated, deep, calming, breath, secretly knowing it won't work on this level of outrage, but I PRETEND it works because the kids are watching...
A forced smile appears on my face...
I change the subject with, "Who wants pizza for dinner?"
The children cheer.
I give my husband one more dirty look, just in case he thought I was done being mad at him.
As you my have already guessed, I did not sell the couch.
I did not speak to my husband for an hour.
I did set a good example for my kids...SORTA.
I did not cry about it, even though I wanted to.
I did laugh about it though...but only after my prescription M&M's kicked in.
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My 3 year old loves to put on makeup, layer upon layer until the face is no longer recognizable as being human. Today, I was her victim. She spent an hour brushing my hair, ripping my hair out with every stroke and repeatedly saying, "this is gonna hurt." She was right. Once she achieved the perfect comb-over that started from my left ear and stretched unnaturally to my right ear, she then turned her thorough eye to doing my makeup. She fancied the purple eye shadow today. I never looked in the mirror...not once. While she was beautifying my tortured hair with butterfly clips and making my skin burn from all the makeup application and then rough, swift removal after each stroke of the lip gloss wand and cheap worn out eye shadow sponge, I received a text from a lady responding to my Craigslist ad...I am selling a couch. She wanted to come see it today, I told her to come on over. She said she would be there in 15 mins...I got up, I thanked my 3 yr old for the quality time, then I went downstairs...
I walked past my 6 yr old, she smiled at me, I smiled back.
I walked past my 2 yr old, he asked me for a snack, I said no, he threw a fit, I didn't care, I was selling a couch.
I walked past MY HUSBAND...HE SAID NOTHING.
The doorbell rings.
I answer it.
The lady looks at me with a peculiar look on her face.
I smile and chat her up, as is my custom when I sell things.
I show her the couch.
She says its nice, but keeps looking at me with a furrowed brow.
I wonder what her problem is...
She says she needs to think about the couch.
She looks at me one more time before leaving...it was awkward.
I walk back in the house, have a 5 MIN CONVERSATION WITH MY HUSBAND about something I can't remember.
I realize I need to go to the bathroom.
I walk into the bathroom and sit down.
I look up into the mirror.
I scream!
What stared back at me was reminiscent of a movie I had recently watched...
I looked like the gum smacking blueberry girl from Willy Wonka...the heavy purple eye shadow ALL. OVER. MY FACE.!! I was completely purple.
SPEECHLESS.
How did this happen?!
Embarrassed is too friendly a word for what I feel.
Begin blame shifting IMMEDIATELY!
I storm out of the bathroom with thunder and lightening in my steps and yell at my husband, "JACK! How did you not notice?!!!"
He sat on the couch, mouth agape, dumbfounded as he stares at me...revelation slowly dawning in his eyes...he then says, "UMMM, I don't...WAIT, how did YOU not notice?!"
TOUCHE...but I don't tell him that, instead...
My eyes narrow, I purse my lips into a duck face getting ready to have a conniption.
The children sense the tension.
They stop what they are doing.
They stare.
Even the dog stares.
I take an exaggerated, deep, calming, breath, secretly knowing it won't work on this level of outrage, but I PRETEND it works because the kids are watching...
A forced smile appears on my face...
I change the subject with, "Who wants pizza for dinner?"
The children cheer.
I give my husband one more dirty look, just in case he thought I was done being mad at him.
As you my have already guessed, I did not sell the couch.
I did not speak to my husband for an hour.
I did set a good example for my kids...SORTA.
I did not cry about it, even though I wanted to.
I did laugh about it though...but only after my prescription M&M's kicked in.
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Fast Food Quality Control
Check the pantry, realize there is nothing amusing to eat.
Convince the kids they want McDonald's by casually mentioning the word McDonald's in a sentence.
Convincing Complete.
Operation Drive-Thur commences.
Pull up to your favorite family friendly McDonalds...conveniently located next door to the gentlemen's club separated only by a dying, thinning hedge bush.
Pretend you live in the burbs and neon buildings don't exist.
Place your order while your kids scream at you to get milk shakes and the meal with a toy!
Pretend you don't hear them asking you to spend more money and tell them they are out of toys and milk shakes.
Sighs of deep sadness emerge from rows two and three.
Oldest child asks what is that beautiful building out the window with the flashing lights and the girl dancing on the sign...
UMMMMMMMMMM......WELLLLLLL.....ITSSSS......oh look our food is ready!
Oldest child cheers and forgets the dancing girl and the flashing lights.
Realize that the day is rapidly approaching when you will have to choose a different, less convenient McDonalds with sub par fries in order to preserve the innocence of your children.
Receive bag of greasy food from the drive thru attendant, wait to inspect the order until she backs away and talks on the headset to another customer.
Open the steaming hot bag. Inhale.
Prepare to quality check fry #1. Make sure it is the best specimen in the bag.
Consume fry. Pretend its super hot so your kids won't ask for one too.
3 sets of eyes begin to narrow as they watch their fries being depleted.
Civil unrest is born in the back seat.
Whispers and looks of mistrust are being passed between toddlers.
I lick my fingers and put the van in drive...
Kids begin demanding a fry for the 5 min drive home.
Tell them they are too hot.
Ask your kids to help look out their windows for oncoming cars...steal 3 fries, consume silently.
Kids hear the bag crunch.
3 sets of eyes narrow.
Stop chewing, JUST SWALLOW.
Mutiny on the Odyssey is full under way.
Listen to your name become a bad word among your children as they realize your fry thieving ways.
Yell at your kids to keep the noise down so you don't crash the van.
Kids demand fries. NOW.
Try to explain to the impatient kids that they may die if you throw them fries while driving because its dangerous and against the law.
Kids demand fries. NOW.
Collective bargaining begins most inconveniently.
Decide death by automobile is more severe than fry withdrawl.
Peel out of the parking lot.
Cut off a low rider with spinner wheels...CRAP.
Yell at your kids.
Refuse to look out your window as low rider with spinner wheels gets in the lane next to you...CRAP.
Stop at the light.
Pray that low rider with spinner wheels won't follow you home and cap your a**.
Wipe the bead of sweat from your brow.
Reach into food bag with a shaky hand. Grab a handful of fries and throw them into the back seats hoping they land where little arms can reach them.
One kid drops their fry just as the light turns green and there is nothing you can do about it...
A "I didn't get any" fit begins.
A slight twinge of fast food regret begins in your mind...more trouble than it's worth?
Eat another fry to comfort yourself.
Three long minutes later, pull into the driveway.
Begin to disembark yourself and kids from the van that smells like grease.
Try not to drop your youngest child who is shoeless and pantless as you try to find the key in your purse while holding the food bag in your mouth.
Walk up to the door sweating and fatigued.
Open the door.
Dogs attack you the moment they smell hamburgers.
Yell at the dogs.
Push the kids through the door with your knee.
One kid falls as usual. Try not to pull your groin as you lift fallen kid with your foot.
Finally, everyone is in the house, at the table (one kid standing on the table), and ready to eat
Pass out the food.
Realize you didn't quality check the hamburgers.
Unwrap one at a time, take a very large bite. Savor. Pass to first kid. Repeat on hamburgers two and three, savor...
kids give you a look of disbelief.
But after the 10 minutes you just had trying to get them the hamburgers and fries near the strip club, in the hood, on a 4 lane road, almost getting killed by a low rider with spinner wheels...GIVE THEM THE STINK EYE AND EAT ANOTHER FRY.
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Convince the kids they want McDonald's by casually mentioning the word McDonald's in a sentence.
Convincing Complete.
Operation Drive-Thur commences.
Pull up to your favorite family friendly McDonalds...conveniently located next door to the gentlemen's club separated only by a dying, thinning hedge bush.
Pretend you live in the burbs and neon buildings don't exist.
Place your order while your kids scream at you to get milk shakes and the meal with a toy!
Pretend you don't hear them asking you to spend more money and tell them they are out of toys and milk shakes.
Sighs of deep sadness emerge from rows two and three.
Oldest child asks what is that beautiful building out the window with the flashing lights and the girl dancing on the sign...
UMMMMMMMMMM......WELLLLLLL.....ITSSSS......oh look our food is ready!
Oldest child cheers and forgets the dancing girl and the flashing lights.
Realize that the day is rapidly approaching when you will have to choose a different, less convenient McDonalds with sub par fries in order to preserve the innocence of your children.
Receive bag of greasy food from the drive thru attendant, wait to inspect the order until she backs away and talks on the headset to another customer.
Open the steaming hot bag. Inhale.
Prepare to quality check fry #1. Make sure it is the best specimen in the bag.
Consume fry. Pretend its super hot so your kids won't ask for one too.
3 sets of eyes begin to narrow as they watch their fries being depleted.
Civil unrest is born in the back seat.
Whispers and looks of mistrust are being passed between toddlers.
I lick my fingers and put the van in drive...
Kids begin demanding a fry for the 5 min drive home.
Tell them they are too hot.
Ask your kids to help look out their windows for oncoming cars...steal 3 fries, consume silently.
Kids hear the bag crunch.
3 sets of eyes narrow.
Stop chewing, JUST SWALLOW.
Mutiny on the Odyssey is full under way.
Listen to your name become a bad word among your children as they realize your fry thieving ways.
Yell at your kids to keep the noise down so you don't crash the van.
Kids demand fries. NOW.
Try to explain to the impatient kids that they may die if you throw them fries while driving because its dangerous and against the law.
Kids demand fries. NOW.
Collective bargaining begins most inconveniently.
Decide death by automobile is more severe than fry withdrawl.
Peel out of the parking lot.
Cut off a low rider with spinner wheels...CRAP.
Yell at your kids.
Refuse to look out your window as low rider with spinner wheels gets in the lane next to you...CRAP.
Stop at the light.
Pray that low rider with spinner wheels won't follow you home and cap your a**.
Wipe the bead of sweat from your brow.
Reach into food bag with a shaky hand. Grab a handful of fries and throw them into the back seats hoping they land where little arms can reach them.
One kid drops their fry just as the light turns green and there is nothing you can do about it...
A "I didn't get any" fit begins.
A slight twinge of fast food regret begins in your mind...more trouble than it's worth?
Eat another fry to comfort yourself.
Three long minutes later, pull into the driveway.
Begin to disembark yourself and kids from the van that smells like grease.
Try not to drop your youngest child who is shoeless and pantless as you try to find the key in your purse while holding the food bag in your mouth.
Walk up to the door sweating and fatigued.
Open the door.
Dogs attack you the moment they smell hamburgers.
Yell at the dogs.
Push the kids through the door with your knee.
One kid falls as usual. Try not to pull your groin as you lift fallen kid with your foot.
Finally, everyone is in the house, at the table (one kid standing on the table), and ready to eat
Pass out the food.
Realize you didn't quality check the hamburgers.
Unwrap one at a time, take a very large bite. Savor. Pass to first kid. Repeat on hamburgers two and three, savor...
kids give you a look of disbelief.
But after the 10 minutes you just had trying to get them the hamburgers and fries near the strip club, in the hood, on a 4 lane road, almost getting killed by a low rider with spinner wheels...GIVE THEM THE STINK EYE AND EAT ANOTHER FRY.
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The Forgotten Diaper
All I could see was crack and sac staring brazenly at me from behind my pillow...there is only one person in our family who would dare to get bare on my pillow, one person with a "pre-garden" mentality about nudity...SEDRIC...aka, BUBBA. There is nothing like getting your child out of the bath, having their fresh and clean pajamas folded neatly and resting on the counter waiting to be adorned on your child's freshly cleaned body. I love being prepared. I hate when I realize I am not prepared. Somehow, I forgot the crucial piece of kid necessity...a diaper. This wouldn't have been a problem if this scenario was about one of my girls when they were little...I could fetch them out of the tub, throw a towel around them and tell them to NOT MOVE while I grab a diaper in the hall closet, AND THEY WOULD OBEY. Unfortunately, this is not a scenario about one of my "good with instruction" girls, it's about my "I heart nudity" son. I knew I was in trouble as I tried to contain his squirming body with one hand as my free hand frantically swept along the counter top in search of the forgotten diaper...it wasn't there...CRAP. Sedric noticed the lack of diaper too...CRAP. The diapers were in the hall closet. My diaper fetchers were no where to be seen...CRAP. I took a deep breath and accepted my mission: get the diaper before Sedric could escape and pee all over the house. I counted to 3. Sedric put his game face on. I didn't play fair. I threw the towel over his head to slow him down then I darted down the hall like lightening. I felt hope as I approached the closet door only to have a sinking feeling as I realized my hands were too lotion-y to open the door! Squealing erupted from the bathroom as Sedric freed himself from the towel and darted, naked and proud, into the hallway as I struggled to wrap my shirt around my hand like a glove to use as grip on the door nob. I grabbed for the diaper in the plastic bag, struggling to find the blasted opening...I ripped a new opening spraying diapers across the hallway, but, a diaper was free at last! Now where did he go? I checked his usual hiding places...he wasn't under his sisters bed, or hiding under his covers, or in his closet...my heart beat a little faster as I realized there is only one other room upstairs he could be in...MY ROOM!! I envisioned him running naked through my room peeing on all my stuff...that's when I found him...just crack and sac staring at me from behind my throw pillows. Pearly white cheeks glowing in the twilight of the setting sun giving away his exact location. If I hadn't been so worried about him peeing on my side of the bed, I would have run downstairs and grabbed the camera. I picked him up victoriously and hauled him away to the bathroom to be properly diapered. I laid him down, only to have him wriggle, jiggle, free and jump to his feet. He looked me in the eye, gave me a half smirk and peed on the floor...CRAP. Well played Sedric, well played.
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FORGET how HARD it is, REMEMBER how GOOD it is
Right after having Sedric (who was a BIG surprise in our family planning schedule), I was a wreck. An exhausted wreck. My will power to be a good parent was on trial as I was trying to take care of a newborn baby for the first time and help our second daughter Rafe (who we just brought home from Ethiopia 5 months prior) to attach and bond. Things had never seemed so insurmountable to me as they were at that moment. I cried alot. I had overwhelming guilt about Rafe not getting the mommy time she desperately needed and I couldn't see past the daily exhaustion of all that my life was requiring of me. I felt like I was getting the "ripped off" version with the early years of both my new babies...I desperately wanted to hold Rafe all day and take her everywhere on my hip and introduce her to the world from the safety of my arms, but I couldn't. I wanted to hold Sedric all day and fuss over him every time he made a sound and enjoy all the firsts with a newborn, but I couldn't. I wanted the parenting model that all my friends had: ONE BABY AT A TIME, but that's not what I was given. I was really struggling to embrace my circumstances. To embrace my limitations.
One night, I was up feeding Sedric, delirious from exhaustion, in need of a shower, humming circus music under my breath (a true testament of my lunacy during those dark months). I was at the end of my rope...I started crying, completely overwhelmed with my own inadequacy. I was too tired to pray a "real" prayer, so all I said was, "HELP" under my breath as I stared into the face of my sleeping milk drunk child. That's when I heard it...a still small voice. It said, "FORGET how HARD it is, REMEMBER how GOOD it is." REVELATION.
I still look at my life everyday with that simple advice in mind, "FORGET how HARD it is, REMEMBER how GOOD it is" The hard times aren't so overwhelming when your perspective is in the right place. Perspective is everything when parenting children. Its so easy to lose it, to misplace it, walk away from it...but when we hold on to it, refuse to let go of it, and daily walk toward it, we see what God sees about our children, about ourselves, about others. All the messes, the sibling disputes and turf wars, the questionable behavior in public places, the fits, the screaming, the sleepless nights, the coloring on the walls, the endless questions, the fighting over the pink bowl, having boogers in your hair, the pooping in the tub, the harassing the dogs, the spills...oh the spills! Its all worth it and manageable when looked at from a broader perspective, not just seeing the moments pain, but the lifetime of worth your daily interactions are instilling into your child's life. When I get to the end of my "parenting young kids" season, I don't want to look back and see a mom who was always frustrated and needing a break, but rather a mom who is passed out and drooling on her pillow by 9pm every night because she put her all into every day with her kids.
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One night, I was up feeding Sedric, delirious from exhaustion, in need of a shower, humming circus music under my breath (a true testament of my lunacy during those dark months). I was at the end of my rope...I started crying, completely overwhelmed with my own inadequacy. I was too tired to pray a "real" prayer, so all I said was, "HELP" under my breath as I stared into the face of my sleeping milk drunk child. That's when I heard it...a still small voice. It said, "FORGET how HARD it is, REMEMBER how GOOD it is." REVELATION.
I still look at my life everyday with that simple advice in mind, "FORGET how HARD it is, REMEMBER how GOOD it is" The hard times aren't so overwhelming when your perspective is in the right place. Perspective is everything when parenting children. Its so easy to lose it, to misplace it, walk away from it...but when we hold on to it, refuse to let go of it, and daily walk toward it, we see what God sees about our children, about ourselves, about others. All the messes, the sibling disputes and turf wars, the questionable behavior in public places, the fits, the screaming, the sleepless nights, the coloring on the walls, the endless questions, the fighting over the pink bowl, having boogers in your hair, the pooping in the tub, the harassing the dogs, the spills...oh the spills! Its all worth it and manageable when looked at from a broader perspective, not just seeing the moments pain, but the lifetime of worth your daily interactions are instilling into your child's life. When I get to the end of my "parenting young kids" season, I don't want to look back and see a mom who was always frustrated and needing a break, but rather a mom who is passed out and drooling on her pillow by 9pm every night because she put her all into every day with her kids.
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No Sedric, you are not adopted
I had the pleasure of witnessing a humorous interaction between my two Ethiopian born daughters and our African American neighbors the other day. My husband and I purposely chose to live in the most ethnically diverse district in Portland, OR so our girls wouldn't feel out of place in more Caucasian communities...like the burbs. The only issue we did not consider when making our exodus from the burbs was our biological son...our very white, German/Irish son. In our neighborhood, Sedric is the only white boy for miles. Sedric is vampiric white. From certain angles, he seems translucent. His hair is so white, it almost glows in the dark. Sedric does not know he is white...and he does not know that he IS NOT ADOPTED, OR ETHIOPIAN like his big sisters.
A few weeks ago, while unloading groceries out of our van, the neighbor kids stopped by for the first time since we had moved into the neighborhood. They looked at me, then looked and Peniel, then Rafe, then Sedric. I could tell they were trying to put the pieces of our mosaic family together in their heads. Finally, the oldest boy blurts out, "Are these your kids?" I smiled and said yes. Feeling more bold, he asks again (pointing at Peniel and Rafe), "Even these two?" I smiled again and said yes. Before I could give them a few facts about our family, Peniel, my 5 yr old veteran talker, makes her presence known in the conversation. She said, "I'm Peniel, I'm Ethiopian and I'm adopted because I'm really special, and my mom really wanted me. (Pointing to Rafe) That's my sister Rafe, she is from Ethiopia and adopted and special too." Rafe then chimed in with her tiny 2 yr old voice, "yeah!" Then Peniel pointed to Sedric who was standing by her side like her shadow, "This is my brother Sedric, he isn't adopted...HE'S JUST A WHITE BOY."
Sedric is just a white boy...poor kid. I still don't know how I will tell him when he is older that he isn't Ethiopian or adopted. It will break his little white boy heart when I have to sit him down and have the "veil tearing" adoption talk with him, and somehow say to him, "No Sedric, you are not adopted."
On a serious note, this interaction between our girls and the neighbors confirmed to me that both our girls have a very healthy understanding of adoption. The moment Peniel began to explain to the neighbors her place in our family, my adoptive mom heart sighed a deep sigh of relief. All the heart to hearts with my girls about adoption, about their adoptions, all the prayers I prayed that God would help their hearts to understand and to not suffer any wounds from my fumbling through the hard conversations, all the times I held them and cried with them through the pain of understanding...all of it was worth it to hear in her voice, that she knows she is loved. That she accepts her story. I am so glad I never skirted around the conversations, but addressed them as they came up. It was worth it.
If you are an adoptive parent, don't be afraid of saying the wrong things to your adoptive child when they ask you questions about their story. Just speak from your heart, your love for them will help you find the right words. Your child will respond more to the love in your voice and the love in your eyes during those hard conversations than the pain from the words you have to speak to them. Truth without love brings damage, but TRUTH WITH LOVE HEALS.
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A few weeks ago, while unloading groceries out of our van, the neighbor kids stopped by for the first time since we had moved into the neighborhood. They looked at me, then looked and Peniel, then Rafe, then Sedric. I could tell they were trying to put the pieces of our mosaic family together in their heads. Finally, the oldest boy blurts out, "Are these your kids?" I smiled and said yes. Feeling more bold, he asks again (pointing at Peniel and Rafe), "Even these two?" I smiled again and said yes. Before I could give them a few facts about our family, Peniel, my 5 yr old veteran talker, makes her presence known in the conversation. She said, "I'm Peniel, I'm Ethiopian and I'm adopted because I'm really special, and my mom really wanted me. (Pointing to Rafe) That's my sister Rafe, she is from Ethiopia and adopted and special too." Rafe then chimed in with her tiny 2 yr old voice, "yeah!" Then Peniel pointed to Sedric who was standing by her side like her shadow, "This is my brother Sedric, he isn't adopted...HE'S JUST A WHITE BOY."
Sedric is just a white boy...poor kid. I still don't know how I will tell him when he is older that he isn't Ethiopian or adopted. It will break his little white boy heart when I have to sit him down and have the "veil tearing" adoption talk with him, and somehow say to him, "No Sedric, you are not adopted."
On a serious note, this interaction between our girls and the neighbors confirmed to me that both our girls have a very healthy understanding of adoption. The moment Peniel began to explain to the neighbors her place in our family, my adoptive mom heart sighed a deep sigh of relief. All the heart to hearts with my girls about adoption, about their adoptions, all the prayers I prayed that God would help their hearts to understand and to not suffer any wounds from my fumbling through the hard conversations, all the times I held them and cried with them through the pain of understanding...all of it was worth it to hear in her voice, that she knows she is loved. That she accepts her story. I am so glad I never skirted around the conversations, but addressed them as they came up. It was worth it.
If you are an adoptive parent, don't be afraid of saying the wrong things to your adoptive child when they ask you questions about their story. Just speak from your heart, your love for them will help you find the right words. Your child will respond more to the love in your voice and the love in your eyes during those hard conversations than the pain from the words you have to speak to them. Truth without love brings damage, but TRUTH WITH LOVE HEALS.
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Bathroom Entourage
Some people wish for bigger houses, nicer cars, more money...I used to be one of those people, before children. Now, 3 kids deep into my life, I would settle for being able to walk into the bathroom BY MYSELF.
Everytime I need to use the bathroom, the following scenario comes into play with only small variations day to day to distinguish between each bathroom visit.
I enter the bathroom, dogs follow.
Little dog tries to hump big dog, I yell at him, he stops.
I close the door quietly, not wanting to attract the children's attention.
I sit down, I think to myself, "Its so quiet in here."
I smile at my dogs, they smile back at me.
I look at the walls for the first time in months, and realize there are hand prints everywhere;
I make a mental note to clean them when finished, knowing deep down I will never actually do it...EVER.
I think about decorating...
I begin to...well, you know...
Children begin fighting.
Somebody bites somebody.
Somebody Shanghai's a toy from somebody.
Somebody begins yelling at somebody because they are being too loud during cartoons.
Somebody realizes I am MIA.
ALL the somebodies begin looking for me...
I hold my breath, I tell the dogs to do the same...they don't...that's when they find us.
Tiny fists begin pounding against the door.
Somebody throws their weight against the door.
Somebody tries to look through the key hole.
Somebody reaches their tiny hand under the door,
the dogs sniff the hand.
Somebody screams, "MAMA!!
I debate if I should answer...
but I do answer because I am a mom after all.
The oldest child throws the door open,
the two littlest kids fall in landing on the dogs and on my toes.
My toes begin to hurt.
Oldest kid leaves to finish her cartoon now that she has successfully dumped the two screaming somebodies on my doorstep.
Second littlest kid asks me, "what doing?"
The baby tries to climb on my bare lap, which I am trying to keep from happening.
Both kids are trying to to show me the bite marks from their siblings teeth, demanding justice.
I begin doling out judgements from my porcelain throne like King Solomon.
After a few moments of empty threats nothing changes, the littles are still fighting,
and then snack bribery becomes a valid parenting tool...
Bribery ensures.
I offer a special, "desperate times/desperate measures" non organic snack bribe.
Kids accept the NON ORGANIC snack bribe.
Kids begin forgiving each other and become best friends per the terms of the NON ORGANIC snack bribe agreement.
Kids finally leave the bathroom.
I sigh again.
Little dog begins humping big dog again.
I yell at little dog again, he stops again.
I finish up my delayed business.
I leave the bathroom nervous and un-relaxed.
I start planning tomorrows bathroom strategy in my head.
Little dog begins humping big dog, I yell at him, he stops.
Now repeat everyday for the next 4 years until youngest child is in kindergarten.
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Everytime I need to use the bathroom, the following scenario comes into play with only small variations day to day to distinguish between each bathroom visit.
I enter the bathroom, dogs follow.
Little dog tries to hump big dog, I yell at him, he stops.
I close the door quietly, not wanting to attract the children's attention.
I sit down, I think to myself, "Its so quiet in here."
I smile at my dogs, they smile back at me.
I look at the walls for the first time in months, and realize there are hand prints everywhere;
I make a mental note to clean them when finished, knowing deep down I will never actually do it...EVER.
I think about decorating...
I begin to...well, you know...
Children begin fighting.
Somebody bites somebody.
Somebody Shanghai's a toy from somebody.
Somebody begins yelling at somebody because they are being too loud during cartoons.
Somebody realizes I am MIA.
ALL the somebodies begin looking for me...
I hold my breath, I tell the dogs to do the same...they don't...that's when they find us.
Tiny fists begin pounding against the door.
Somebody throws their weight against the door.
Somebody tries to look through the key hole.
Somebody reaches their tiny hand under the door,
the dogs sniff the hand.
Somebody screams, "MAMA!!
I debate if I should answer...
but I do answer because I am a mom after all.
The oldest child throws the door open,
the two littlest kids fall in landing on the dogs and on my toes.
My toes begin to hurt.
Oldest kid leaves to finish her cartoon now that she has successfully dumped the two screaming somebodies on my doorstep.
Second littlest kid asks me, "what doing?"
The baby tries to climb on my bare lap, which I am trying to keep from happening.
Both kids are trying to to show me the bite marks from their siblings teeth, demanding justice.
I begin doling out judgements from my porcelain throne like King Solomon.
After a few moments of empty threats nothing changes, the littles are still fighting,
and then snack bribery becomes a valid parenting tool...
Bribery ensures.
I offer a special, "desperate times/desperate measures" non organic snack bribe.
Kids accept the NON ORGANIC snack bribe.
Kids begin forgiving each other and become best friends per the terms of the NON ORGANIC snack bribe agreement.
Kids finally leave the bathroom.
I sigh again.
Little dog begins humping big dog again.
I yell at little dog again, he stops again.
I finish up my delayed business.
I leave the bathroom nervous and un-relaxed.
I start planning tomorrows bathroom strategy in my head.
Little dog begins humping big dog, I yell at him, he stops.
Now repeat everyday for the next 4 years until youngest child is in kindergarten.
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The Child who owns the World, but ONLY in Public
Have you ever had an experience with one of your children that caused the blood to drain from your face? The kind of experience that encourages you to strongly reconsider taking said kid out in public for fear of social ruin? Well, for all of you who have been there...or are there...this is the tale of the kid, the granny, and the horrified mother...enjoy!
I love Costco. Every trip to Costco is delightful for me. There is something about buying in bulk that puts a smile on my face. A few weeks back, I took my wild brood of 3 to Costco to restock on diapers, and toilet paper, and (of course) to buy a 5lb bag of M&Ms. As always, we turned down the book isle to peruse children's books...Peniel takes this particular part of the Costco experience very seriously. Its the only moment in any given shopping trip where she is honed in and focused. Peniel is the kid who hangs off the side of the cart and hollers at people in a British accent as we roll on by...but not in the book isle, never in the book isle. We were rapidly approaching the children's book section so Peniel jumped off the side of the cart and started walking down the isle brushing her hand along the stacks of books. She stopped short of her destination, for there was a road block in the form of a silver haired woman looking at the book on the first stack of children's books, I assumed Peniel would just go around...I assumed wrong. Peniel wedged her way in between the woman and the stack of books and put her hands on her hips, and started tapping one of her feet. The woman looked down and said hello to my darling sweet Peniel...Peniel looked up, and in a voice that sounded a few octaves lower than her usual whimsical sing song voice she said, "GET. OUT. OF. MY. WAY"
It all happened so fast, so very fast. It was like watching an avalanche. I was mortified, frozen in horror. I reached out and grabbed her and told her to apologize...as the bewildered older woman walked off, I wanted to yell out, "she didn't learn that from me!" As the woman turned the corner and was gone, I gave Peniel the most serious whisper scolding I could muster...which means very little to a child who knows the power they wield in public places...I shopped a little faster that day, took fewer samples, and forgot to buy half the things I needed to buy...all because my child owned the world that shopping trip, and me, the pheasant, could do very little...but the moment we got home, the world was right again, mommy was queen...and rudeness is high treason in Mommy's Kingdom.
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I love Costco. Every trip to Costco is delightful for me. There is something about buying in bulk that puts a smile on my face. A few weeks back, I took my wild brood of 3 to Costco to restock on diapers, and toilet paper, and (of course) to buy a 5lb bag of M&Ms. As always, we turned down the book isle to peruse children's books...Peniel takes this particular part of the Costco experience very seriously. Its the only moment in any given shopping trip where she is honed in and focused. Peniel is the kid who hangs off the side of the cart and hollers at people in a British accent as we roll on by...but not in the book isle, never in the book isle. We were rapidly approaching the children's book section so Peniel jumped off the side of the cart and started walking down the isle brushing her hand along the stacks of books. She stopped short of her destination, for there was a road block in the form of a silver haired woman looking at the book on the first stack of children's books, I assumed Peniel would just go around...I assumed wrong. Peniel wedged her way in between the woman and the stack of books and put her hands on her hips, and started tapping one of her feet. The woman looked down and said hello to my darling sweet Peniel...Peniel looked up, and in a voice that sounded a few octaves lower than her usual whimsical sing song voice she said, "GET. OUT. OF. MY. WAY"
It all happened so fast, so very fast. It was like watching an avalanche. I was mortified, frozen in horror. I reached out and grabbed her and told her to apologize...as the bewildered older woman walked off, I wanted to yell out, "she didn't learn that from me!" As the woman turned the corner and was gone, I gave Peniel the most serious whisper scolding I could muster...which means very little to a child who knows the power they wield in public places...I shopped a little faster that day, took fewer samples, and forgot to buy half the things I needed to buy...all because my child owned the world that shopping trip, and me, the pheasant, could do very little...but the moment we got home, the world was right again, mommy was queen...and rudeness is high treason in Mommy's Kingdom.
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To the Victor Goes the Snacks!
I have two girls, both adorable, and both 100% opposites. Peniel is a huger, Rafe is a biter. Peniel likes to be the boss, Rafe refuses to take orders. Peniel is easily distracted, Rafe is not. Peniel will befriend anyone free of charge, Rafe cannot be bought. Peniel enjoys cartoons, Rafe enjoys stealing Peniel's snacks while pretending to watch cartoons...this list of differences goes on, but its the last example I want to expound upon.
Every day, after naps, the girls get a snack and a sippy cup. Their snacks are identical, each has the same amount of crackers and same ounces of water. One of my girls never questions the fairness of snack time...but the other...the middle child...the one who bites...eye balls both snacks to verify equal amounts. Even still, she must have both snacks and both sippies otherwise, its unfair! I am convinced that instead of sleeping during her nap time, she is strategizing with charts and graphs and running undercover-op drills in her room in preparation for: THE SNACK TIME HEIST.
Peniel loves her cartoons, she takes them very seriously, not one second is to be missed, even if an exploding bladder is a consequence. Rafe understands this about her older sister, and every day exploits this characteristic. Every day, I wonder how the snack time heist is going to go down because it changes...Rafe is smart and knows you cant trap a wolf the same way twice so she evolves her strategies daily. Her most frequented approach goes something like this: as soon as the cartoon theme music begins to play, she starts to dance and laugh, baiting her sister to join her...Peniel in unable to resist any moment that calls for dancing, so she joins in. Before the theme music stops Rafe is MIA. As the cartoon begins, Peniel sits down forgetting that she left her snack and sippy on the table...Unfortunately for her, Rafe did not forget about the abandoned snacks and proceeds very quickly and quietly to collect them and eats them as fast as she can chew, sometimes choking herself in the process as she shovels fistful after fistful into her pie hole...she always leaves at least one cracker and some floaties in an almost drained sippy...this is her calling card. If not for me, the mother, Peniel would never have a snack or anything to drink. I now have to fill two snack cups and two sippies half full in anticipation of my sneaky bandit Rafe...when she is satisfied that she has won her battle against her cartoon mesmerized prey, she walks off, belly full and plays with her toys. This is the time that I pull out Peniel's real snack and force her to eat and drink before Rafe gets wind of my under handing, counteracting, null and voiding her klepto ways. I love them both...that is why I let Rafe steal her sisters "decoy" snack, and why I keep a "real" snack for Peniel.
Every day, after naps, the girls get a snack and a sippy cup. Their snacks are identical, each has the same amount of crackers and same ounces of water. One of my girls never questions the fairness of snack time...but the other...the middle child...the one who bites...eye balls both snacks to verify equal amounts. Even still, she must have both snacks and both sippies otherwise, its unfair! I am convinced that instead of sleeping during her nap time, she is strategizing with charts and graphs and running undercover-op drills in her room in preparation for: THE SNACK TIME HEIST.
Peniel loves her cartoons, she takes them very seriously, not one second is to be missed, even if an exploding bladder is a consequence. Rafe understands this about her older sister, and every day exploits this characteristic. Every day, I wonder how the snack time heist is going to go down because it changes...Rafe is smart and knows you cant trap a wolf the same way twice so she evolves her strategies daily. Her most frequented approach goes something like this: as soon as the cartoon theme music begins to play, she starts to dance and laugh, baiting her sister to join her...Peniel in unable to resist any moment that calls for dancing, so she joins in. Before the theme music stops Rafe is MIA. As the cartoon begins, Peniel sits down forgetting that she left her snack and sippy on the table...Unfortunately for her, Rafe did not forget about the abandoned snacks and proceeds very quickly and quietly to collect them and eats them as fast as she can chew, sometimes choking herself in the process as she shovels fistful after fistful into her pie hole...she always leaves at least one cracker and some floaties in an almost drained sippy...this is her calling card. If not for me, the mother, Peniel would never have a snack or anything to drink. I now have to fill two snack cups and two sippies half full in anticipation of my sneaky bandit Rafe...when she is satisfied that she has won her battle against her cartoon mesmerized prey, she walks off, belly full and plays with her toys. This is the time that I pull out Peniel's real snack and force her to eat and drink before Rafe gets wind of my under handing, counteracting, null and voiding her klepto ways. I love them both...that is why I let Rafe steal her sisters "decoy" snack, and why I keep a "real" snack for Peniel.
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Cartoons and Me
There must be something wrong with me...all day, I hear myself singing the theme music from my kids' cartoons...mainly the Backyardigans. I guess just singing the music wouldn't be so bad considering their songs are extremely catchy and easy to remember...the problem for me, and now for my oldest daughter, is that I now know all the dance moves to the songs too! Every time I hear the Backyardigans come on, its like I have a Pavlov's Dogs moment and singing/dancing is my conditioned response...its almost as if I blackout and have no control over myself until the music stops. The only reason I am even remotely aware of my hypnotic state when said cartoon music begins is because when I start 'doing my thing' Peniel starts 'doing her thing' and yelling at me to stop! Clearly, the days of sanity have passed my by. I will remember them fondly, but alas, a new day of insanity greets me every morning in the faces of my 3 smallish children...after fully partaking of sanity before kids and insanity after kids...I am not sure that sanity is all its cracked up to be. Insanity is where I want to live...I like the neighborhood, its a place you can really grow some roots.
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The Mass Exodus...to Target.
There is nothing like having children. There is nothing like having to grocery shop with 3 small children. Mayhem. Today, we needed dog food and cat food, and I needed to get out of the house, so I made the executive decision to take my 3 yahoos to Target. I felt like Moses leading the Israelites to the Promised Land...there was alot of squabbling, screaming, hair pulling, but we made it. We must have been a sight. I had Sedric in the sling kicking wildly, Rafe in the cart shrieking for the fun of it when we pass people, and Peniel hanging off the side of the cart yelling at people to get out of our way. The funny thing is that I used to roll my eyes at moms like me...ironically, I am "that mom" now...you win universe!
Peniel is famous for being the "reach out and touch somebody" kid. How many hilariously embarrassing moments I can remember where she would just randomly touch people in the isles. Today, it didnt happen, not because I successfully trained her out of this behavior, but because there arent too many people in Target at 9:30am. Rafe is our shopping pooper. The moment you get her in her car seat, she has to do business. I am always without a clean diaper too, so we gag, we shop, we gag some more, then we go home. Today, this didnt happen either! ODD. Two staples in my shopping headache scenario didnt happen...
Sedric is known as Mr. Spit-up, but not today! ODD. Any given shopping trip, I will be baptized in spit up, inhaling poopy diaper smells, and red faced from trying to corral my exuberant non cart riding child, BUT NOT TODAY! Today, I pass GO and collect my $200. Today, I evaded the perfect storm...tomorrow may be a different story, but today I am enjoying my million dollar shopping moment.
Peniel is famous for being the "reach out and touch somebody" kid. How many hilariously embarrassing moments I can remember where she would just randomly touch people in the isles. Today, it didnt happen, not because I successfully trained her out of this behavior, but because there arent too many people in Target at 9:30am. Rafe is our shopping pooper. The moment you get her in her car seat, she has to do business. I am always without a clean diaper too, so we gag, we shop, we gag some more, then we go home. Today, this didnt happen either! ODD. Two staples in my shopping headache scenario didnt happen...
Sedric is known as Mr. Spit-up, but not today! ODD. Any given shopping trip, I will be baptized in spit up, inhaling poopy diaper smells, and red faced from trying to corral my exuberant non cart riding child, BUT NOT TODAY! Today, I pass GO and collect my $200. Today, I evaded the perfect storm...tomorrow may be a different story, but today I am enjoying my million dollar shopping moment.
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Sticker Bandet Strikes Again!
When in doubt, apply a sticker.
This is the code by which Peniel lives:
If little sister has taken one too many toys from big sisters over flowing "unsharable" basket...put princess stickers all over her face and hair, tell mom the cat did it...
If mom isn't looking...put princess stickers on the windows, tell her little sister did it...then watch mom struggle for hours to get them off the windows, all the while imagining another place to decorate.
After mom says, "no more princess stickers on the windows or your little sister!" apply princess stickers to all the doors, present the masterpiece proudly to mom who is holding a screaming child on each hip, watch mom smile because mom knows (as well as smarty pants 3 year old knows) all doors where not mentioned in the above command.
Once all the princess stickers are properly applied around the house, and mom's fingers are numb and raw from scraping and peeling the devilish adhesive nightmares off inappropriate surfaces, find more stickers, perhaps the Mickey Mouse stickers and begin the process of applying them to little sister, windows, and doors because after all, Mickey Mouse stickers are not princess stickers, and therefore the above rules do not apply to them.
So many stickers, so little time.
This is the code by which Peniel lives:
If little sister has taken one too many toys from big sisters over flowing "unsharable" basket...put princess stickers all over her face and hair, tell mom the cat did it...
If mom isn't looking...put princess stickers on the windows, tell her little sister did it...then watch mom struggle for hours to get them off the windows, all the while imagining another place to decorate.
After mom says, "no more princess stickers on the windows or your little sister!" apply princess stickers to all the doors, present the masterpiece proudly to mom who is holding a screaming child on each hip, watch mom smile because mom knows (as well as smarty pants 3 year old knows) all doors where not mentioned in the above command.
Once all the princess stickers are properly applied around the house, and mom's fingers are numb and raw from scraping and peeling the devilish adhesive nightmares off inappropriate surfaces, find more stickers, perhaps the Mickey Mouse stickers and begin the process of applying them to little sister, windows, and doors because after all, Mickey Mouse stickers are not princess stickers, and therefore the above rules do not apply to them.
So many stickers, so little time.
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Love/Strongly dislike relationship
Peniel and Rafe Joy...sisters, friends, playmates, and on occasion: Arch enemies! Deep down they love each other and would do anything for a much beloved sister, unless that much beloved sister tries to take a toy from the other or wrestle her to the ground to vent frustration...its these moments that inspire the "dislike" in their relationship. Today, after countless power struggles over toys, junk mail, dried up markers, and of course lip gloss, the sisters' "dislike" moment was epitomized when Peniel put a long string of beads around her little sisters neck. Rafe was overjoyed and let out a bubbling chuckle. She looked at her big sister with eyes that seemed to say, "all sins against me have been absolved my child... these beads fix everything!" Peniel looked at Rafe, her 3 year old smile curving mischievously as if to say, "now I got you right where I want you." Two seconds later, Peniel's intentions where made very clear as to why she wanted her sister to wear the beads...in a blink of an eye, Peniel picked up the slack in the beads and began to lead her sister around like a puppy who wasn't leash trained. The sweet, loving expression that was on Rafe's face a mere two seconds prior was now mutated into the face of an experienced street fighter. Don't be mistaken, Rafe was not getting hurt in this exchange with her sister...she was getting MAD, and when Rafe gets mad, there are no holds barred! If Rafe had the power to turn green, she would be the HULK in her moments of outrage. Peniel knew she was losing the advantage from her initial surprise attack so she pulled and pushed her sister more quickly toward her destination: the bathroom. I starred with my mouth agape, I am sure I had a puzzled, blank look on my face, how could I not!...All the while I was thinking, "I should say something," but I was overcome with curiosity as to how this epic struggle was going to end. Peniel made it to the bathroom with her little sister thrashing like a hooked Marlin at the end of the bead leash. With great effort, Peniel put the leash on one of the cupboard nobs and backed away quickly...her mission accomplished. She had the timeless look of satisfaction on her face. Rafe broke free unscathed, but red faced and screaming like an 80's rocker.
Rafe became wiser today... she will not forget the wrong that was done to her by her much loved/disliked sister...she will have her revenge...maybe tomorrow, maybe on the next full moon...the element of surprise now rests in the mind of a very small child who has inherited her mother's dark gift for mischief.
Rafe became wiser today... she will not forget the wrong that was done to her by her much loved/disliked sister...she will have her revenge...maybe tomorrow, maybe on the next full moon...the element of surprise now rests in the mind of a very small child who has inherited her mother's dark gift for mischief.
Kid Moments
How does one go half a day without noticing that her child has colored her entire face with a yellow marker? Three kids ago, I wouldn’t have imagined this possible...but now, all things are possible for those who parent children! I can’t believe how much motherhood has changed from the days when I just had one child to today when I have three...the things you notice, worry about, care about, think about morphs into something more realistic when you begin the journey of adding more children.
I used to care about Peniel being fashionable, wearing cute clothes that had no stains, and always looking like she could model for Baby Gap. She never had a scraped knee or dirt under her finger nails, she always looked pristine, but that was when she was the only child. Then came Rafe Joy and pregnancy...Peniel's hair was less than done on most days due to the exhaustion of family expansion and body expansion. Her clothes a little more stained due to the baby on my hip and the baby in my tummy. She got a little more dirt in her hair and rocks in her boots when playing outside, got a few more scrapes too...but what would childhood be if you couldn't wear mismatched socks, a skirt over your dress, an entire tube of chapstick on your lips and shoes on the wrong feet?
I believe in having memories, and some of the best memories I have of my kids are when they have done or gotten themselves into something that they weren't supposed to do or get into. I will always remember this day when my Peniel colored her face yellow and I was completely oblivious to how obvious it was! Even though it took multiple wet wipes to clean her up while two other kids were screaming for my attention, it was worth it for the sake of adding another special Peniel moment to my memory.
Next time something goes awry in your parenting, take a snap shot, enjoy the mishap for half a second before you get upset at the extra work on your part to fix the mess because it is the imperfect moments in life that mean the most!
I used to care about Peniel being fashionable, wearing cute clothes that had no stains, and always looking like she could model for Baby Gap. She never had a scraped knee or dirt under her finger nails, she always looked pristine, but that was when she was the only child. Then came Rafe Joy and pregnancy...Peniel's hair was less than done on most days due to the exhaustion of family expansion and body expansion. Her clothes a little more stained due to the baby on my hip and the baby in my tummy. She got a little more dirt in her hair and rocks in her boots when playing outside, got a few more scrapes too...but what would childhood be if you couldn't wear mismatched socks, a skirt over your dress, an entire tube of chapstick on your lips and shoes on the wrong feet?
I believe in having memories, and some of the best memories I have of my kids are when they have done or gotten themselves into something that they weren't supposed to do or get into. I will always remember this day when my Peniel colored her face yellow and I was completely oblivious to how obvious it was! Even though it took multiple wet wipes to clean her up while two other kids were screaming for my attention, it was worth it for the sake of adding another special Peniel moment to my memory.
Next time something goes awry in your parenting, take a snap shot, enjoy the mishap for half a second before you get upset at the extra work on your part to fix the mess because it is the imperfect moments in life that mean the most!
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I'll CHAI if I want to...
every morning I make a Chai Tea Latte while Peniel, my very vocally expressive 3 year old, is watching a cartoon...and every morning she covers her ears, gives me the stink eye and yells, "TOO LOUDER MOMMY!" and every morning I pretend i dont see or hear her protests and keep steaming. She is too young to understand that the entire day hinges on this precisely steamed (to 170 degrees), perfectly foamed cup of pipping hot euphoria. I actually think that the opposition to my making it, makes it tastes better...so keep screaming kid #1, keep screaming! In my estimation, and my estimations are always correct, I have earned my Chai...when I wake up every morning looking like the bride of Frankenstein with bags under my eyes the size of Rhode Island, and all that i own smells heavily of kid...If 2 mins during a cartoon rerun (that my oldest has seen 100 times) is the only time I can make my Chai, come hell or high water I will have my Chai even if it kills me! Every Chai is a precious gift to a very tired mom, I dont believe in wasting precious gifts not any day of the week!
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