mERry christmas

I haven't been doing the blog. Life has been getting in my way.
But I am still awake at 2am after an exhausting day.
I'm almost too tired to fully describe the craziness of it all.

I walked into the pediatrician's office with one thing and left with another.

We went in for an ear infection for the oldest and ended up with a day in the ER for the youngest after he ingested a pill he discovered underneath a chair.

There was a little bit left of the pill that the doctors in the office thought it might be a cardiac medicine. It was enough of an unknown that poison control called for an ER for monitoring.
Despite the fact that there was about 3/4 left of the pill, the pharmacy wasn't able to tell what it was. Which I find amazing that we can pore through the DNA of king Tut, but can't figure out what may have poisoned my baby, especially when I walk in with it in my hand.

In the end, he is fine. I will never be fine. That is just the way I roll nowadays. Especially after I have watched the movie The Wiggles Space Dancing five times in a row. I was begging for Dora, Barney, Tinky Winky SOMEONE to rescue me from my wiggly hell.

In my "free time" instead of blogging or even (gasp) watching TV (that is NOT the Wiggles), I've been learning sign language, researching childhood apraxia, finding more treatments for him.

I've gone amazon, crazy, medieval, psycho, in your face mama on this kid. I've gotten him to say his own version of "brrrr" for cold today which was my victory, but I"ll take it.

I am a tired mama, but aren't we all. Would I trade it? Not for a minute, well maybe a minute, or 20 minutes, but then I would come to get it back.

and so it goes....

And so the baby doesn't talk right? He is the silent shouter in my life. That knot in my gut that follows me around and tells me that things just aren't right.
So tonight I have my gut somewhere up in my throat as I roll this diagnosis around in my head..."Childhood Apraxia of Speech."
The speech language pathologist (SLP) came today and gave him a full evaluation. And when she told me this apraxia word my brain froze. She continued....It is treatable with the right intervention....Not a big deal, really. She told me not to Google it, because she has this book, see, and that I should read that book, not the internet. She told me about a crazy hysterical mother that took her toddler to a neurologist in search of what could be wrong with him.
"Not that you would do that. You don't seem the type," she said with a wise wave of her hand.
So I said good-bye, thank you, waved, shut the door and 3,2, 1....Googled....."Childhood Apraxia of.....and there it was. Come on, this lady has known me for, what?, five minutes?
As many of these disorders, diseases, syndromes, conditions... are apt to have there is a dot org. And words like "special needs," "IEPs," "special education," "advocate for your child," "therapy," all stick to my eyelids and prevent any rational thoughts from occuring.
It will be alright. I know it. As Patty our own personal family SLP, talked me down out of my tree tonight, she's a wealth of information. I suppose if God had given me a list of tough things your child must endure, this may be one of the ones I would have chosen, if forced to.

The reveal

OK, People here it is....you've probably been wondering what I've been doing with all my time. I present to you the after. If you haven't seen the before, you'll have to scroll down through the blog (to Sept 7th) to see the work in progress.

three way pull

First tooth yanked by Mama Super Grip.
And baby "sleeps" in the barn with friends.

My oldest boy turned eight on the same day his brother lost his first tooth.

A day of milestones...

The mother of said boys was supposed to be in three places at once. All between 1130 and noon this is what I should have been doing.

1) handing out birthday treats at school

2) attending a Thanksgiving play

3) attending baby's speech therapy

Needless to say, I ended up in breaking all speeding records, frazzled and in tears. And my sweet middle child said matter of factly from the back seat, "too bad, you couldn't see my play."

KC still doesn't talk. And to say I'm worried about it is putting it lightly. I try to work with him and repeat things until I can feel my eyes bulge.

I'm off to do more stuff in the kitchen. I've got the UN coming for dinner.

there's nothing like...

i've been a bit afraid of my blog lately.
I don't know why.
Kind of like picking up the phone to talk to a friend you haven't spoken with for a long time. It seems like there is too much ground to cover.
Oh, I also had two people tell me they don't read my blog anymore because it is too boring.
So I feel it is probably safe to talk about them in unfavorable tones in future posts. I may even post pictures of them.
We've had our first case of pink eye in the house last week. There is nothing like chasing down a two year old, tying him down to pry his eyes apart to splash medicine into his eyes.

Q is going to be in a Thanksgiving play tomorrow. He has a dual role -- The King (as in of England, not Elvis) and Miles Standish. Again....there is nothing like 5 year olds dressed as pilgrims and the natives.

Tomorrow is K's 8th birthday too, which will require the usual fete and festivities.

Shawn is gone to NY for his 103 year old Nana's funeral. He will miss the celebrations here.

I'm also not sure how I will complete the meal preparation for 12 that I have planned on Thursday, but I'm sure it will all work out.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. There is nothing like it.
This is my week to watch Food Network. I can watch people prepare turkey and stuffing all week.

camp

Here is one great element to being the only female in the family. For questions like...."mama, can we camp outside tonight?"

I can simply say, you know I don't deal with such things, ask your Papa. And he will pitch a tent in the backyard and all boys over the age of 5 will prepare for the hardship ahead.

I was awake from 330am to 430am that night with the baby. The outside thermometer read 43 degrees. Papa didn't sleep so well. He tried to convince the two children that maybe they wanted to go in and sleep in the house, but they had none of it.

2nd grade blues

To the best of my knowledge, I've attended second grade.

In fact, I remember the first day my mom said to me. You know, I didn't go to school here (meaning America), I cannot help you any longer with school work, you are on your own.

Well in the end, it was just another great gift she gave me. So while other kids had awesome solar systems crafted out of store bought styrofoam balls and paint or a mechanical structure they built in the garage with their dads. I tried to figure out how to make a dental plate out of flour, water and food color. I won a "superior" and then when I went to the district science fair I found my teeth and literally rotted in the moist baggy with fuzzy mold.

But now I've found myself having to repeat 2nd grade, again. Because we live in a new world where the parents are required to involved in every aspect of the student's class work. K had to decorate a paper gingerbread man to look like himself. He worked at it with great vigor and let's just say the child is not known for his artistic abilities. When I saw all of the little people up on the bulletin board. K's was in the lower left hand corner with a bit of crayon color for clothing and a basic smiley face. Others had buttons, fabric, yarn hair and 3D embellishments showing little gingerdude doing a favorite hobby or sport. Our next project was a book report where we had to, get this, craft a pumpkin or gourd into the main character of the book. Now we are supposed to create a "family turkey" or some damn thing.

Honestly I could hardly fully comprehend the instructions I just glanced at the headline, "Dear Parents...' the dread filled my chest. And then there was something about Thanksgiving being about gratitude for family and golly gee this project will really be a great way for your children be thankful that you got locked away because you won't be around to hurt anyone. anymore.

happy halloween 2007

The kids are asleep in a sugary coma. The baby has determined that Halloween is a great holiday. He rode around in the wagon during trick or treating eating lollipops. He never moved or tried to get out of the moving wagon as he is apt to do. I think he didn't want to break the sneaky sweet snack fest.

I want to be on record here....
I FINALLY picked a green for my bathroom. It really has been worth the hunt. It is restful green "Gentle Dill" by Martin Senour. I feel at peace when I look at it.
I painted the bathroom walls and liked it so much that i decided to make an accent wall at the top of my stairs with it. Of course I ran out. So tomorrow I will find more.

There is only ONE place in town that carries this green color. Of course it was like an Indiana Jones unlocking the crypt adventure for me to finally track down the holy grail of greens.

At this place, there lives a magical woman that people wait hours to consult with on paint colors. People walk in with a swatch of fabric, a chip of paint or an idea in their heads and she walks in front of the spectrum of colors pulling, cutting and pasting until she has a gorgeous collection of coordinating colors.

pictures to follow after I paint trim, ceiling, install new sink base (or someone I'm married to does that)
Fights have erupted if anyone attempts to cut in the line or butt in "can I just ask one question".....

two!

what ticks you off

so we talked about anger in our Sunday School class this week.
We started out by posing the question ...what makes us mad. Right away, people came up with numerous traffic or shopping check out scenerios that really steam them.
I sat quietly and listened thinking, hm this is strange, none of that really bugs me. I really am so calm and laid back. huh?
wait this isn't me....there's gotta be something.
Oh yeah there's those people that speed past my house while our family is in the front yard.
and what about these jokers that own a jewelery store and hire a truck to drive around with a billboard on the back to advertise.
And then there is more waste and polluters and litterers and child molesters and ....
wait....ah there we go. the rage is back. all better.

PLEASE DO NOT INTENTIONALLY....

There are a bunch of crazies that live in my neighborhood.

I have to tell you beforehand that I live in part of the 'hood where the drivers speed by...and one guy had the nerve to post this on our community message board......

Subject line: "PLEASE DO NOT INTENTIONALLY WALK INTO THE PATH OF MY MOVING VEHICLE.

> Last night about 8:50pm (dusk), I experienced an emergency and was transporting my daughter to the ER while talking with her physician (on bluetooth so both hands could be free to drive). Yes, I was exceeding 25 MPH (IT WAS AN EMERGENCY), but I was not going over 35 and was EXTREMELY watchful for other cars and (typical ly) children who dart into the street unexpectedly. However, I was not expecting an adult resident to place their live, the life of their pet, and the potential catastrophic impact to me and my family had I actually hit this person as they deliberately stepped from in front of a parked car DIRECTLY INTO THE PATH OF MY VEHICLE and STOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD!!! While I appreciate the fervor with which we all try to encourage each other to SLOW DOWN through the subdivision, it is UNACCEPTABLE for anyone to place themselves and the driver in peril by this reckless behavior. Yell from the sidewalk, wave your arms, ... whatever.... JUST DON'T DO THIS AGAIN, PLEASE! I am sending this message to the subdivision as an alert to ALL DRIVERS to be aware of this type behavior.

What a knuckle head. Suffice it to say, this started a flurry of back and forth posts. The majority of which said, "ahm let's see...
1) you were speeding through the neighborhood
2) talking on your cell phone
3) you had an emergency, but didn't call an ambulance.
4) thank God it wasn't my kid that intentionally placed himself in front of your speeding, distracted vehicle.

imagine a life

Imagine you are at work.
The boss tells you things are just too crazy, and there is no one else who can come in to cover the next shift. So you stay and work.
By the 15th hour, you start to get a little bleary eyed and cotton mouthed, but you are allowed to have the occasional break, snack or meal in the breakroom. You are permitted to use the toilet facilities, but it is only for a limited amount of time. Someone will usually come looking for you and leaving the floor will back up the work or cause an accident.
And since your workplace is a 24 hour operation like most newsrooms, hospitals or 7-11's are you still can't leave come the third shift.
And so it continues, you really should be represented by a workers' union for what you know is a clear violation of US legal code.
You work with the same handful of people and while they are a fine group of people, they get on your nerves. Afterall, you are around them all the time.
Day after day, night after night.
Oh and did I mention? -- they can't pay you.
Slave labor, you say. Although if you haven't caught on by now...
This is my life.
My workplace is my house.
I cannot leave.
When I was younger and covered more breaking news shorties from the field. I thought I'd pass out from the exhaustion. I operated on very little or no sleep and ate rice crackers for meals.
That is what the initial months with a newborn felt like.
I know the whole thing about the crashing airplane and how you are supposed to give yourself oxygen first before aiding those smaller or weaker than you.
My airplane has been losing altitude for about eight years now. I feel guilty and selfish when I feel like I have to get away, but I do.
An occasional girls night out should do, but I need it EVERYDAY.
I have heavy-duty guilt when I feel like I need to escape the people that I love the most.

baby at "school"

what's the point?

Talk about an oxymoron....I've just become the "room mom" for the baby's mother's morning out class.....or maybe that is just "moron", without the "oxy."
Now the child goes once a week for three hours. One would think the work it takes a room mom to do the things she has to do for the "CLASS" would in fact negate the whole point of the program.
So there I sat in the parents' meeting before "school" started. When the teacher asked for a volunteer to be room mom, she looked sqare at me and my friend across the room (since we both have had children survive the program before).
I extended my arm to volunteer my sweet friend and the teacher thanked us both for volunteering.
So now begins the planning and begging for birthday presents for both teachers(because of course neither has a summer birthday), Christmas gifts, teacher appreciation gifts, teachers' luncheon and end of year gifts and luncheons, have i mentioned the gifts and luncheons?
I'm really not good at this. Remember I am a Kappa mom.

I love the internet, really I do.

Here is the amazing thing. I have a bed with a matelasse cover on it. When I bought it I must have been cheap because I didn't spend the extra dough and get the shams. I think it is because I come from a world where bed shams weren't part of my reality.

Anyway....my bed never looked made, even when I attempted to make it.

Trouble is I have no idea where I bought it. So yesterday I looked at the tag and googled Columbine Cody matelasse cover and lo and behold page after page of just what I was looking for.
gotta run....kids begging for their own computer time......ugh

smile

A funny thing happens when I see a picture of myself, I am shocked and dismayed at how i look....fat, frumpy, bad skin, no makeup. (did you ever wonder why I blurred my blogger picture?)
Anyway, I take this picture, stick it in a box and five years later, pull it out think, "Whoa, did I ever look good!!"
So it is that time of year again, when the professional photographer comes to the school. Year after year, I've seen great shots of families sitting ever so casually on stones in the woods wearing identical khaki pants, freshly pressed white button down shirts, and barefoot.
Because put-together families in perfectville wear this uniform and walk through the woods without shoes on.
So year after year I think, perhaps, I'll lose a little weight first before I have someone take a full length shot of me, but it is when I look back at the old pictures that I realize this is as good as it is ever going to get.
So I've made our appointment and I search for clothes we can wear that are not too matchy matchy, but don't clash with each other. Something in black for me, perhaps.
The music teacher at the school has her family picture from last year hanging on the wall. She has three children, a husband and two dogs. All were in the picture, looking right at the camera smiling and looking fabulous. It was a feat on it's own, until she pointed out a small brown blob on the shoulder of one of the children. The hamster. Yes the hamster was also in the picture looking straight into the camera smiling. Miraculous. Little khaki pants and all.

boys, books and bathrooms

Pictures from Q's first day of school and the baby's first day of mother's morning out.

I just scraped wallpaper and it's sticky liner for the past hour. It is about as much as I can take at a time. The bathroom still gets too hot and tedious. I tried to trick my mind into taking the zen approach it all.... It is not about the destination; it is about the journey. It is not about the journey.

But really in this case it is all about the destination. I want my bathroom done. It is about picking a green. In the end, it will be the wrong green, but I will be tired of looking for the PERFECT green.

I've started in a book club. Our first meeting is next month, our book is Welcome to the World Baby Girl by Fannie Flagg. Any other suggestions are welcome.

Right now I'm reading Rise and Shine by Anna Quindlen. Next I feel it is my duty as a member of this society to read Harry Potter, the first one, mind you. I also want to read Kite Runner. That should get me through Christmas, since I am not a fast reader and things like messy children and peeling bathrooms and doggie diarrhea seem to swallow up big chunks of time around here.

a bunch of crap

Here are two words that no one wants to start her day with....doggy diarrhea.
Ah yes, that is when you know you are going to earn your pay for the day, oh yes except for the fact that you don't get paid for this job.
At least it wasn't one of the kids right? Right, except that was the weekend.
I returned home from work Saturday night to find out that Q started throwing up. My hunka hunka said it was perhaps from the enormous amount of junk food they eat while I am not around. (how fair is that?)

Does anyone else feel some amount of karma come around that OJ was arrested about the time his stupid book is coming out endorsed by the even stupider Goldmans?

Gotta go, I am being beckoned....mamama mama mama mama mama mama.

These are the people that suck....tv execs that put all the great shows on Thursday night.

Two of my faves....The Office and Grey's Anatomy are on at the same time this season. I know Tivo....blah blah blah. But our satellite system only allows one channel at a time, so whatever you are watching is what you have to record. Which means rabbit ear antenae on the upstairs TV and commercials, ugh.

I know too that there are bigger problems in the world, but come on, people. What about Sunday? Monday?

greener than green

I've been "working" on my bathroom.The quest for the perfect green has reached a new level of insanity and obsession.

Believe it or not I narrowed down my search from 70 or so samples of green to finally decide on one. But when I bought a small sample of it....it was all wrong. So back to the color charts to start all over....I narrowed it down to two from Home Depot. And then my mind flashed back to a Pampered Chef party I attended last year. I asked the hostess to tell me what color she had painted her kitchen. She wrote it on a small sticky note and by some miracle I stored it into a three-ring binder I generously titled "HOME IMPROVEMENTS."

After much searching I finally found the color.

Then I read a column written by a woman in Florida and one click led to another and I found an article about her that sent me obsessing. The picture shows her and two of her kids at the kitchen table and what did I notice? The plate of homemade cookies on the table? the cute kids? No right there in front of me was THE green. I must have that green. (OK I did notice the cookies first....but then it was the green the green!)

And being the complete freaky stalker of the perfect green that I am, I emailed the woman. And she so kindly dug through her garage for the paint can.

So now I am up to four colors of the verde, my friend Heather gave me a sample of her green today that I must try.

Funny, that I really am about a month's worth of labor away from painting that tragic space. In fact I may decide to start another project first .... something small and doable.

pictures from a poopy pool party

Pinata time....
Baby wearing legs from the donkey (or was it a bull?) pinata

Q decided that he was going to decorate his own cake. So really how else would you expect it to look. After spending FIVE HOURS (I am not exaggerating this number), decorating a Blue's Clues cake for my first son. The $11 cakes at Publix started to taunt me every time I walked by them.

Now.....all I buy is the cakes from Costco. They are so moist and divine. I really do love them so....Chocolate with the vanilla cheesecake filling and the real cream cheese frosting. THE BEST. Of course they serve about 50 people, but my philosophy in life is you can never have enough pizza or cake.

the needs are great

Q went for his 5 year check up and the doctor looked at me and said, "You've got him in speech therapy, right?"

I paused, pulled my eyelids back down into position and asked nonchalantly, "for what?"

Now there are certain questions you expect....
Does he sit in a booster?
Does he snore? (Q answered, "No I don't snore I just make noises when I sleep.")
Does he eat a variety of foods?

speech therapy? mild panic.....what have I been doing?

And then I realized when the nurse asked him if he could count to 100, that maybe I forgot to teach him that.

counting? mild panic....what have I been doing?

Then there is the baby that doesn't talk.
baby talking? mild panic....what have I been doing?

Then there is the eldest boy...a real smart cookie. I haven't been really supplying the endless books he needs to feed his never ending reading list.
I realized this last night when I looked at some of the books other kids have been reading.
Harry Potter? mild panic....what have I been doing?

I spoke at length today with a friend about the constant chaos into our lives...not just chaos but searching for and inviting chaos in for dinner and to become members of the family. Kind of like me, the three kids, dog, cat, stripping wallpaper and redoing the bathroom. I really don't need to be taking on any more projects around here, I can BARELY complete my own basic hygiene.

But we did decide that the mind does tend to wander while we complete the mundane tasks of the day to bigger and better and more, and so we start a new project and are never able to do it quite the way we should because we've got all the other things that have to be done before it.

And then we realize that our kids can't count or aren't reading and smack ourselves on the head and say...what have we been doing?

an ode to the party

Twas the night before the party
and as I stood on my stoop

not a swimmer was swimming
because someone pooped

The sign, it was hung
on the pool door with ease

"POOL CLOSED!" it read
Please...let us not
go to Chuck E Cheese!


There are a couple things you need to know about me....1) I am a germ-o-freak-nomaniac. 2) I do NOT like to host birthday parties.

But the middle son turning 5, and what I take upon myself as his lacking MIDDLE son status, prompted me to plan a pool party.

So of course, imagine my shock when upon returning from yet another trip to the store for supplies, my eldest boy says, "Mama, I've got some bad news."

Someone had deposited their fecal matter in the pool....hours and much scrambling later I find another pool.

Now we are in the middle of a drought here, strict watering bans, temperatures that have been above 90 since July, two weeks straight of 100+ degree temperatures.....and then today...the pool party....

130p starts the thunder and lightening. 2p the guests arrive. 220p starts the downpour. 4p the storm clears as the last guest leaves and the crumbs are swept away.

There should be no question why I hate to host birthday parties.

"Mama, is this a nap?" Q asks just moments ago.
I can understand his confusion.

Usually around 5 pm and stare at the clock and wonder how oh how I will live through the next three to 3.5 hours before they all are in bed.

So tonight I put them in bed at 7:00 pm. I gave myself the gift of an hour

"MAMA! IS THIS A NAP?!"

Ahm no, it is evening, and it is time to go to bed.

"Then why is the sky so blue?" he asks.

I launch into an explanation of the summer daylight and how the sun stays up longer.....

"No Mama, the sun doesn't stay up. The earth moves REMEMBER?!"

(sigh)....go to bed

Son #1 just came down to tell me he has a sore throat. Son #3 is in his crib reading his farm books, because I can hear him making animal noises.

today's horoscope

I sat in Chick-fil-A today after lunch and read the newspaper while the kids played in the playcenter.

I came across my horoscope.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): Your children will get on your nerves, and they're just about to ruin their clothing.

hooray

This is the day.....I'm writing it down....Sunday, August 19th.

There are days like today when you look at your kid and think hey, what happened to you. They change so fast and although it is a cliche....it happens overnight.

Like today, Baby KC just seems to be more of a human being and not the whirling dervish he so often is. He said "uh-oh." And this is huge in my personal mother's book of milestones. Especially for a kid that doesn't talk much, if at all. I feel like once a baby says "uh-oh" he is on his way. Thing just seem to roll from there.


Also....and this is a big one.

As I've mentioned before, I have to tape the baby's diaper on, because he takes it off constantly.


Well three days in a row little houdini has figured his way out of them and did various forms of business in his crib and or from the crib onto the floor.


I've reached my ends with that baby, and then today. He took off his diaper in the living room, walked over to his little potty, sat down and pooped.


Much jubilation followed ....m&m's, dancing, wiggles and ice cream flowed.

can you tell me how to get to sesame street

Baby KC on Sesame Street at the Children's museum.

On TV with Elmo....i always loved watching those babies interact with the Sesame Street characters. This was cool to see my own kid do it.

first day of 2nd grade

bathroom project

i am amazed by the number of colors there are out there in the paint world.

it starts easily enough....hmmmm i think this room needs to be green.....

i think i narrowed my choice of green down for the bathroom, but really i just got tired of thinking about it.

I had the perfect sink and base picked out. I really love it, but then Costco had one that i like....and it was about $400 cheaper.

For the savings, i'm learning to LOVE it.

eyes and feet and hands and mouth

ok so the baby had strep throat a couple weeks ago, right.

sunday he started with a spotty rash. monday he spiked a fever.

and after spending last night and this morning researching rubella, rocky mountain spotted fever, small pox and assorted other diseases.....i decided to call the nurse.

and just because i love packing children in the car, finding alternate child care arrangements for the elementary child getting off the bus soon, trying to entertain and contain a wild almost two-year old in a germ infested space, paying $15 for them to tell me it is only a virus....i went in.

because she said so.
doc said hand foot and mouth disease.

turns out it is that time of year again. both older boys had it when they were younger and it looked different in each one. although maybe this is the kind of thing they just give this diagnosis to when they don't know what it is and don't have any solutions for you.

i think *THINK* the baby may have said some words. "Jeff" "Murray" (both very dear wiggle dudes) "apple" though i cannot confirm.

the first day of the rest

the first day of school today.

Everyone so happy to see 2nd grade start. Life returns to a new state of normal.

Aunt and cousin visited this weekend. Was good to get a little estrogen in this place.

I ran into a friend in the mall today who said I don't update my blog as much as I once did, but I find sometimes that I have not much to say except....like today.....

Ate at Chick-fil-A, the baby has a bumpy rash and a fever....looks like measles. Except I think he had a shot for that. The two oldest boys fight and argue so much.
The dog needs to be walked, but it is too hot to breathe out there.

Have I mentioned I'm going to start to paint walls around here?

August starts

An update on the baby.....He is on the mend. Though now that I think about it....as I'm sitting in Starbucks for my $3 vacation. I'm wondering if anyone at home remembered to hold the poor dear down and squirt antibiotics into the back of his throat while I've been out.

The glands on the left side of his neck are shrinking, though not as fast as I'd like them. Peach pit would describe them. The literature they gave me says to allow more time than I have the patience for.

We are about to embark on a milestone in the boys' life. K and Q are going on their first sleep over. They are out of their minds with anticipation. They're staying with Patty who for the most part is like an aunt to them. They looooove her and she them.

They are very interested in the little taste of life they will get in their brief bit without mama and papa. Patty lives in an apartment, which is the source of much conversation around here.

To be continued....

sick summer

The baby oh that sweet little baby.

He woke up today, ate grapes and promptly threw them up.

His fever was nearing 102. He was on fire.

So you know who we call in these cases of emergency......? Of course, our friends Anthony, Greg, Jeff and Murray. Oh the Wiggles, how I love them.

At one point when the baby stood up to tell Jeff to wake up, in a language that only he can understand. I noticed the little fella looked a little chubby and perhaps a little older. Now, I come from a paternal line of folks that wear their double and triple chins with ease, but his look is at least 30 years premature.

But like a gramma with a goiter, this boy had a neck a-swellin something fierce. It was only on the left size and when the call nurse asked me for the size and gave me options of a pea, a cherry or a peach pit. I told her perhaps a can of peaches was more like it.

Well a trip to urgent care *because my kids don't get sick Mon-Fri 9a-5p* turns out that the little fella has strep throat. It just so happens I had strep a couple weeks ago.

Tonight as we wound up the day, Q said he hoped the baby didn't get sicker than he already was. I agreed. That's what happens sometimes, he said, people get sicker and sicker and sicker and sicker and then they die, right mama?

Right, Q.

"Is that what happend to Obachan (grandma)?"

Yup.

"She must not have washed her hands."

what a summer

It started out as a joke.
My kids will go to every bible school available this summer, I thought as I headed into the summer months, thinking of the three hours a day of free supervised childcare. Heck they'll even do Hispanic VBS. ha ha. Nevermind they don't speak Spanish.

Well.....guess what we are doing this week?! Yep Hispanic VBS.

monkey matters

Oh how I felt for this gorilla. "I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL!" I yelled as I pounded at her through the glass.

At one point, this gal had two small babies clinging on to her. One on her back and one on her leg. This little guy on her leg never let go the entire time we watched her.

My little cling-ons are 1, 4 and 7 years-old.

The 7 year old doesn't cling as much as he used to, but the two younger ones are always on me.

"Oh Mama, you are the best person in the whole wide world. There is nobody better than you," my Mama's boy Q tells me with a serious wrinkled brow.

For now I'll take what I can get.

i wonder why i'm tired

My day is almost done. The boys are in bed. That is where I want to be too.

I know that this is the time of day I should get everything done I couldn't do while they were awake, but I just want to sit and stare at the wall. I know that I operate in survival mode most days.

I figured out part of my overeating is an extension of my survival. I eat while I can, all I can because I might not be able to later. But I do later, though maybe not when I want to or what I want to. I eat everything I prepare for these guys. Which by the way is three meals and two snacks, but not always at the same time. And then I eat my regular stuff. I eat while the eatin is good, because oh I don't know, perhaps the end of the world is near and I'll have to live off my fat stores.

And then I'm tired. So tired. I don't know how to shake it. The baby actually sleeps through the night, which means I get anywhere from 6-8 hours of sleep.

I know. Excercise. The healer of all that ails. I excercise. On a semi-regular basis. I have to tell you about the Korean Nazi personal trainer at the YMCA, but I'll save that for another time. I think I need to sleep.

Oh the guilt

Today, my friend took the boys in the morning. I ran some errands sans enfant.

Home, lunch, to the pool.....

By 3 or 4 in the afternoon, I was wondering what I had to do to get them out of my hair again.

These are my little blessings from God right? Oh how I longed to run away from those three little Godly gifts. My hunka works overnights and insists on sleeping during the day and leave me to fend for myself with them.

And then it sets in, the guilt. Oh, the mama guilt. These are my sweet children that I labored for. So sweet, so formative, so wanted so...so maddening.

So I packed them up in the van, which around here takes about 1/2 an hour, and headed to the YMCA. I toke them all to the childcare rooms and then sat and read for about 30 minutes before I did a workout.

So great and yet so guilty. Technically, I shouldn't need the break since my pal took them for three hours in the morning.

Oh well, the day is done. No harm done, as far as I can tell. They'll just have to send me their therapists' bill in 20 years.

Happy Fourth of July 2007

So the baby takes off his diaper, right. Remember how I said I've resorted to duct taping the little guy into those diapers. Somehow the little Houdini has figured yet another way around my tactics. The past two mornings I went into find piles in the crib. Last night I taped him into his diaper around the waist twice and then down through and around the legs a few times. This morning I woke and ran in as soon as I heard him, in hopes of catching him before he had the chance to squat.

nothing.

So I wait all day for this child to relieve himself.

nothing.

This is what has become of me.

As I taught my eldest how to shovel doogie -doo from the back yard, I thought this is what it comes down to for me. poop. poop and more poop

Then as I scooped the cat box later that day I thought, again, poop. Really when the little blessings in my life are able to dispose of their own excrement in a proper and sanitary manner, this is when my life becomes easier.

Happy 4th of July.

The boys catch their first fish

happy burfday to me

I'm officially holding up the beautiful side of 40.

My boys gave me the greatest gifts a mother could ask for today. K made me a delightful 1 liter bottle of perfume in a garden spray bottle.

I was a little afraid of spraying it on my skin, but upon further questioning I gathered it was made from water and some sort of liquid lavender soap.

Q made me a true treasure. It is a 2-qt rubbermaid container filled with water and bits of grasses and herbs from the garden.

They were besides themselves with joy to celebrate my birthday with me. Again, another 'bits of joy' experience.
Today I took them to one of those ceramic painting places so they could make some tiles for me. We painted for over three hours.
When we got into the van with all of our artistic elements spent, Q said, "Mama, I forgot it was your birthday while we were in there! My brain was so full of other stuff."

someone to herd em

the dog is great. really.

he does some things however i wonder about.



we suspect he is a Labrador retriever mixed with a border collie.



he has a sweet gentle disposition like a lab, but is really smart.



he does this thing though that is a mystery to me. it appears he tries to herd us, particularly the kids. sometimes he'll just knock his head into them and nudge them one way or the other.



sometimes if the kids are running, or flailing about he'll nip at their heals. OK by "kids" i mean Mr. Q the 4 year old.



With the baby, I've seen them standing next to each other then suddenly move him straight sideways with the trunk of his body.



if I were smarter, i'd learn how to use this herding thing to my advantage....



"Leo....get the boys! Make them go potty! put on their shoes and get into the van before I have to raise my volume"

lost diapers

"How was your day?" my friend asked me today knowing that there was a story to be had in there somewhere.

As she asked this, one brother hit the other with a guitar sending shock waves through the dry wall. And then the baby walked into the room with nothing but a smile on.

I neglected to reinforce his diaper as I've had to do lately. I use industrial strength tape to keep the diaper on the baby. It really is a necessity.

Of course the first child would never think to take off his diaper all the time, since I was on that kid's every move.

The second child had this same issue with diaper removal. I used the blue painter's tape on him too.

I start the roll at the back of the diaper and wrap it around his waist to keep him from pulling the tabs open.

The summer of survival

I want to post video on my blog, but that would require a new skill. I don't have time for new skills right now. I focus on the survival. It is summer afterall.

Tonight as I tucked the oldest into bed I said, "Good night, my sweet boy. My first-born child."
To which he replied, "Yeah, I had it good back then didn't I? I had three years all to myself, before my bossy little brother came along."
Oh yes, I'm thinking of a cliche, wait....oh yes something about the pot calling the kettle black.

This month marks the first full year of the sibling fighting. I remember it well....last summer was clearly the first time the two oldest brothers started to fight.... and they really haven't stopped since.

I wrote this little note.....

JUNE 2006
This is the summer it begins, I suppose. It was bound to happen, but how was I to know it would be so soon?
This morning my two oldest boys woke at their summer sleep-in time of 8am and came downstairs to the excitement of another morning. This week they are going to vacation bible school, which they just love, better than school with more crafts, songs and yummier snacks.
There comes a point of time that every mother with two children dreads. Mine came this morning. I call it the yogurt splitter reckoning. They make six packs of kids' yogurt with three flavors on one side, three different ones on the other. My boys need to have most things they same or better than they other guy. So in the case of yogurt, each kid can eat the same flavor twice, but then there comes the dreadful day when one will have to get a different kind than his brother. You think, no big deal, yogurt is yogurt. Ah yes but that would mean you do not have a child under the age of say, seven. Because one you see has an alligator guy with sunglasses and the other may have a polar bear playing an electric guitar, which if you are three-years-old makes all the difference in the world.
I can usually head off problems by saying, “you get what you get and don't have a fit.”
This morning I thought that perhaps the ebullient mood would distract the junior occupants from yogurt flavor. Oh how wrong I was.
As I'm doing some banal job in the kitchen K, the 6-year-old, says in that poke you in the eye, sing song voice, “I have strawberry banana, and you don't.” Oh no, here we go. Did the president of the United States walk into this room with THE briefcase nicknamed “the football” and push that big red nuclear bomb button by mistake? There is no turning back. The order of what happens next is a blur of tears, finger pointing and banishment to the garage to work things out, and then I had to deal with the kids. You know, I am the grown-up, and as I sit here drinking my Diet Coke in the air conditioning while they are in bible school singing “Love is patient. Love is kind.” I can tell you there are better ways to handle things. I ended it all with an empty threat to never buy yogurt again.
Who would have thought that real sibling rivalry would have begun so soon? They are after all only 6 and 3. We were in Target last week and I spotted the t-shirts that said it all, “Sister for Sale.” “It's my brother's fault.” I could have thought of that. Why not capitalize off of your struggles? My t-shirt would say, “How many times do I have to tell you?” “Please don't touch the cat's butt,” or “Please take the salami off your brother's head.” All words that have actually come out of my mouth.
My husband and I happened to come across some video clips we had saved on our computer last year. The boys were in the midst of preparing for one of their many musical shows in the family room. The shows are complete with instruments, vocals, live microphones, canned background music and are almost always performed in underwear. As two-year-old Q knelt readying his microphone, the older brother rushes up behind him, grabs his arm, peels the mike from his fingers and heads to the fireplace hearth to become the star of the show. Without complaint, Q finds another microphone; it is a broken headset microphone with no headpiece. He shoves it in his mouth and holds it between his teeth to gurgle the backup lyrics to a made-up song by his older brother, while strumming a blue electric guitar.
This year however, we are entering a new era. Three-year-old Q has developed a very vocal mind of his own and very keen sense of injustice. Though he stills spends most of the day following his older sibling around being the student to his brother's teacher, the doggy to his man, the passenger to his' bus driver/engineer, you name it. The minute Q tries, does or suggests something different is when it all begins.
At first, K does try to explain the reasons why he must be the boss and the leader calmly at first, but lately it usually just goes into the full-blown argument. It usually escalates until Q shouts, “I'm gonna trade you for a sister.”
Sadly though he doesn't know that would probably be just the beginning of his problems. Being one and having a sister of my own, I remember the rough spots with both my brother and sister. I am the youngest by about a decade. Despite the age span we still found ways to fight without a problem.
Remember this one in the days before the remote control? “Hey, go change it to channel five,” my teenage brother would order from the white pleather chair. “Why do I have to always be the one to change the channel, ” I would lip back.
“Because you are closer,” he would say. Upon which I would get up and move across the room to the distance the furthest from the TV and say in true bratty little sister form, “No I'm not. Now you are closer.” The inventor of the TV remote clearly must have been the youngest sibling.
Somehow I can talk myself into the fact that the arguing is good for them. These are the battlegrounds for later in life. Siblings are the safe zone where we learn how to get along or not get along with others and pick up the skills for conflict resolution and problem solving.
In the meantime, I wait until my boys leave the kitchen and alone at last, eat all the cotton candy and kiwi banana flavored yogurts by myself.
Anything in the name of peace.

-end-

a bad haiku for summer

Busy baby runs.
If it weren't for "The Wiggles,"
I think i would die.

boys and beluga

blog

I've played a little with the look of the blog, just for fun.
The new picture is taken at the Georgia Aquarium last week.

I discovered today that they make Baked Cheetos and Baked Doritoes.

Have I mentioned the baby is in to everything? My house looks like Goodwill threw up in here.

I've figured out a new name for Starbucks...."A three dollar vacation"

 

Even though not everyone is excited about getting his picture taken....I love this picture because I got all my BOYS in the same shot!

There was a time, BC (before children) when I pictured summer break with my handsome well-behaved children.....it went something like this.....

Rising in the morning naturally by our own bio-clocks....mixing our own organic granola in the morning, crafting macrame wall hangings, swimming, catching fire flies....maybe one more trip to the craft table before bed time.......

And then my reality set in....really the only thing we do on this list is go swimming.

I really have every intention to let them catch lightning bugs, but the West Nile mosquitoes swarm at that time. Also with the coming climate apocalypse, there aren't any to be found. Perhaps because of all the chemicals we douse our lawns with .

Now I look at my summer calendar and see vast expanses of gloom and doom, I must find something for these rascals to do. Last summer was the first year the two oldest ones began to fight. It was exhausting before that, but it became even harder mentally last year.

I used to scoff at the moms who sent their kids to these summer "camps." Something, I may add, we never had growing up. We just drove our parents nuts. "I'm bored."....."Go out and play."
And we did usually. I'd be gone from morning til night....coming back occasionally to eat.

Anyway....This is the first year I'll be entering the world of the summer camps. The older two will do two Vacation Bible Schools, one science and technology camp and one soccer camp.

This is why I work....to have enough money for the extra stuff...for Q to go to a special kindergarten, for soccer camps, organic fruits....and good shoes for the baby.

Plus I get to eat my Chick fil-A salad and Diet Coke in peace.

What a blessed life I lead.

For these reasons, we are best friends

It is not uncommon to find these two getting into things. I just happened to notice they had snuck away and were very quiet. When I walked upon this scene.... in fact if I weren't around them, who knows what they could get into.