It is rather ironic that I had more time to write this blog when my kids were younger. There's no shortage of material these days, but when they were younger, the sheer insanity of living with three little maniacs was just more jarring. I remember being in such a constant state of disbelief at what was happening. These days we are quite busy yet we're not one of those families involved in multiple classes, camps and sports. My kids are just busy and curious and talkative and have all sorts of ideas that I have to put the brakes on, such as:
Mom, let's do an idea. How 'bout we drop our shoes from the bathroom window? Fiona asks. Um, no.
Owen, you can't float boats in the toilet, okay, honey?
Why? I really had no answer for that one. It's a bowl full of water. Why wouldn't he float a boat in it? It was easier to explain to his brother a few years ago why dipping his hair in the toilet was gross.
Stop putting green beans in each others' noses, I tell Danny and Fiona.
Don't pee in the kitchen, honey, I tell Owen, who has pulled his little potty into the kitchen.
Owen? Where are you?
Mom, I cleaned the mirror with my [water] gun.
Stop shooting that thing. That thing being a penis. Really.
Mom, I have water on my tongue. I can use it to clean boogers off my shirt, Owen explains cheerfully.
I want mommy to be with me in my green NASCAR, Fiona declares. Sweet! Incidentally, Danica Patrick's car is green.
Do you need a napkin, Owen?
No, I'll use my tongue napkin, he says, licking his face and hands. Clearly, his tongue is so, so useful.
It's fun to play football in the house, Danny squeals. Um, fun for whom?
Where's your gum, honey?
It went down my drain, Owen replies. His drain is his throat.
Mom, why do you have big boobs? Danny asked and then laughed.
Because I had to feed all you guys, I replied as cautiously as possible. I thought maybe we needed to have a talk about our bodies until he followed up with Why do you have a big head?
Because I have a big brain, I replied.
You can put your shoulder straps on yourself, honey, I tell Owen.
Why?
Well, you're three.
Why?
Because time moves on, kid. Ah, the age of why has begun.
Why does your leg hurt, mom? Danny asks.
Because I've been running.
Then don't run away again, he replies.
Owen, you stink, dude.
No, YOU stink, he says, pointing his little finger in my face.
Dead worms are better. They don't squirm, Danny explains to me. The kids are obsessed with worms since Danny's kindergarten class had been studying them. In fact, they went on a worm rescue mission on a recent hike, but alas some were beyond saving. They skipped down the path, singing and pointing, Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
Okay, Danny claps his hands together. Potty and bed. I have a big day tomorrow. I have to go to school and I have to finish writing my book. He was writing a book about a NASCAR driver, of course.
Let's play tag, Owen says to the kitty who wandered into our yard. Later, he brought the kitty a football.
I know a new song, mommy, Fiona says. Twinkle, twinkle little poop. And she cackled maniacally.
Mom, Owen just bit me in the ear, Danny wails. It was only 8 a.m. and I have a little Mike Tyson on my hands.
What's two plus two, Fiona?
Eyeball.
MOM. Dude, calm down. She doesn't know how to add yet.
Till next time ... hopefully sooner rather than later. Summer vacation is upon us and four days into it, I am exhausted.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Monday, June 03, 2013
Before I forget ...
So if you've read my blog for any length of time, you know that I am often conflicted and cynical about the Christmas season. And, yes, I'm going to write about Christmas in May -- partly out of the goodness of my heart and partly in order to record for myself what's worked and what hasn't. (Because I guarantee you that I will forget and start listening to the committee in my head in November. Seriously, look at my December archive for any year and you'll find angst. Major angst.)
In six years, I've celebrated seven Christmases with small children. Not a Christmas has gone by where there wasn't a sick child or adult or a crying infant. I've spent the few days before Christmas in doctor's offices and pharmacies, up all night rocking sick children, toting a nebulizer around and even nursing a sick husband one Christmas Eve.
I've learned over the years that holidays and young children don't mix the way they seem to on television. Every time I saw a commercial with clean, well-dressed children without runny noses hanging an ornament or helping mom bake cookies, I wanted to throw something at the television. I instead settled on snorting audibly. The kids loved that. (And it occurs to me just now that's where my 6 year old may have gotten his recent snorting habit.)
This year was remarkably different. I've figured out what works and what doesn't from gift buying to cookie baking to holiday-related outings and simple religious traditions.
1. The problem: Baking Christmas cookies and other treats with small children around. Without losing your mind.
The solution? I commit to making a few treats that I've perfected over the
years. Our favorite are cocoa crinkles. These are super easy with lots of kid-friendly steps. They roll the dough into balls and then roll it in the confectioners sugar. While the cookies are baking, they unwrap the Hershey Kisses (and get to eat some). Once cooked, they press the candy cane kisses into the cookies. They look oh so fancy and making them with the kids doesn't make me want to gouge my eyes out. Sugared almonds are another favorite, they make great gifts and I make them in my crock pot. One 3 lb bag of almonds at Sam's Club costs about $10 and yields about 9 cups of these babies. Yes, really. And for a bonus: the crunchy leftover cinnamon sugar that doesn't stick to the almonds is used in other goodies, such as cinnamon breads or oatmeal.
2. The problem: Getting kids to pick out presents for others in the family.
The solution: This year, I got smart. I bought little gifts here and there over a few months before the holidays. I bought most of the items used but in great condition at a local thrift shop. Some things were even brand new. On Christmas Eve I set up a "store" in our bedroom (because expecting them to keep a secret for more than 24 hours is unrealistic!). I gave them each a shopping bag and they picked out something for their siblings and father. They helped wrap and put the gifts under the tree. They were so excited about the process and I didn't have to take them to a department store, pay too much and deal with traffic, parking, and whiny kids. Even in May, they remember what they got from each other. This idea is a keeper, at least for now.
3. The problem: How to create a meaningful celebration that balances religious and secular tradition.
The solution? Keep it simple. It wasn't until just last month that Danny began to understand our "three gifts" tradition. The way I see it, you're not getting more gifts than Jesus got. You're just not. And, yes, He did get gold, but you're not getting anything nearly that ritzy, 'kay? Now when Fiona starts dictating her Christmas list, Danny quickly reminds her of the three gifts rule. I also bought a simple, ceramic nativity that holds advent candles. The kids love lighting the candles each night and look forward to lighting a new candle each week.
4. The problem: It seems that parties and outings are expected.
The solution? They're really not expected. Parties and outings sap rather than enhance my Christmas spirit. I'm your typical introvert and so is most of my family. Santa at the mall? Hell no. Parties? What's that saying about a bull in a china shop? We drive around looking at Christmas lights. This tradition started when they were younger and we desperately needed some space. Belted into car seats was the best we could get. One year, we even came across a guy playing Santa in his front yard. Don't worry, it's not as creepy as it sounds. This past year, we started a new tradition. We went to Boone to visit my brother and his wife and pick out a Christmas tree. The kids got to see Santa and take a hayride on the top of a mountain. It was best weekend trip we've ever had with them.
It's different for everyone, of course, but if you're struggling with how to mix Christmas and young children without breaking out in hives, keeping it simple is the way to go. They won't remember if you don't have a dozen different cookies, but they will remember the simple things. I certainly do. If any of our version of keeping it simple was helpful, you're welcome.
In six years, I've celebrated seven Christmases with small children. Not a Christmas has gone by where there wasn't a sick child or adult or a crying infant. I've spent the few days before Christmas in doctor's offices and pharmacies, up all night rocking sick children, toting a nebulizer around and even nursing a sick husband one Christmas Eve.
I've learned over the years that holidays and young children don't mix the way they seem to on television. Every time I saw a commercial with clean, well-dressed children without runny noses hanging an ornament or helping mom bake cookies, I wanted to throw something at the television. I instead settled on snorting audibly. The kids loved that. (And it occurs to me just now that's where my 6 year old may have gotten his recent snorting habit.)
This year was remarkably different. I've figured out what works and what doesn't from gift buying to cookie baking to holiday-related outings and simple religious traditions.
1. The problem: Baking Christmas cookies and other treats with small children around. Without losing your mind.
The solution? I commit to making a few treats that I've perfected over the
2. The problem: Getting kids to pick out presents for others in the family.
The solution: This year, I got smart. I bought little gifts here and there over a few months before the holidays. I bought most of the items used but in great condition at a local thrift shop. Some things were even brand new. On Christmas Eve I set up a "store" in our bedroom (because expecting them to keep a secret for more than 24 hours is unrealistic!). I gave them each a shopping bag and they picked out something for their siblings and father. They helped wrap and put the gifts under the tree. They were so excited about the process and I didn't have to take them to a department store, pay too much and deal with traffic, parking, and whiny kids. Even in May, they remember what they got from each other. This idea is a keeper, at least for now.
3. The problem: How to create a meaningful celebration that balances religious and secular tradition.
The solution? Keep it simple. It wasn't until just last month that Danny began to understand our "three gifts" tradition. The way I see it, you're not getting more gifts than Jesus got. You're just not. And, yes, He did get gold, but you're not getting anything nearly that ritzy, 'kay? Now when Fiona starts dictating her Christmas list, Danny quickly reminds her of the three gifts rule. I also bought a simple, ceramic nativity that holds advent candles. The kids love lighting the candles each night and look forward to lighting a new candle each week.
4. The problem: It seems that parties and outings are expected.
The solution? They're really not expected. Parties and outings sap rather than enhance my Christmas spirit. I'm your typical introvert and so is most of my family. Santa at the mall? Hell no. Parties? What's that saying about a bull in a china shop? We drive around looking at Christmas lights. This tradition started when they were younger and we desperately needed some space. Belted into car seats was the best we could get. One year, we even came across a guy playing Santa in his front yard. Don't worry, it's not as creepy as it sounds. This past year, we started a new tradition. We went to Boone to visit my brother and his wife and pick out a Christmas tree. The kids got to see Santa and take a hayride on the top of a mountain. It was best weekend trip we've ever had with them.It's different for everyone, of course, but if you're struggling with how to mix Christmas and young children without breaking out in hives, keeping it simple is the way to go. They won't remember if you don't have a dozen different cookies, but they will remember the simple things. I certainly do. If any of our version of keeping it simple was helpful, you're welcome.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Out of the wilderness
These days I feel as if I've just returned to civilization after the six-year long wilderness camping excursion that was my children's early years.
I now sleep all night long.
I shower several times a week and my legs are shaved with some regularity. I no longer sport a mustache. (You brunettes out there KNOW what I'm talking about.)
The kids leave me alone and play with each other for up to a half hour at a time.
I only wipe one child's bottom on a regular basis.
My youngest turns three this week. I can see a diaperless, self-dressing future for him from here. Do you know what that means??? I will be able to leave the house without diapers and wipes. I will no longer have to wrestle clothes on a rabid porcupine hell-bent on just not cooperating.
This is a huge milestone.
For years, I've been too tired to maintain all but the most convenient of friendships: neighbors, church friends, family. For years, my appearance, fitness and general health have taken a back seat to my children's needs. For years, I've not made efforts to socialize widely because of the unpredictability of young children and the strong possibility that I'd fall asleep if I sat down anywhere.
My M.O. has primarily been to stick to a kid-centered schedule with as little deviation as possible to achieve the most peaceful environment for all involved, including myself. That has been my way of taking care of myself all these years.
Things are changing, though. At the beginning of the year, I was ready to quit my gym membership. The kids had had runny noses since Thanksgiving and it was impossible to take them to the gym. I thought my membership was up at the end of January. Turns out, it was up at the end of March. An employee there convinced me to stick it out until then and try some group exercise classes.
I then inadvertently walked into one of the toughest classes in the gym, kettlebell twice a week, with a Golden Gloves boxing champion for a trainer. I didn't think about how intimidating it would be to walk into a class alone for the first time. Right away, a few women approached me and encouraged me through my first few weeks. I didn't feel judged or inferior. I didn't have to hide my sense of accomplishment.
Since then, I've become more mindful of my eating habits using a fitness app called My Fitness Pal. I've lost 12 pounds, 7 inches off my waist, 3 inches off my hips and 2 inches off my thighs. And when kettlebell started to get easier, I increased my weights. When that got too easy, I started running.
Now, I used to tell people that if they ever saw me running, they better run, too, because something was chasing me (and it was probably a snotty child). I also used to sit in the breakfast nook in early January watching the newly resolved joggers going by and telling my husband "I wish I liked running."
Well, guess what? I don't like running. I love running. I want to do it every day, but I'm taking it slow to avoid injury. I'm using the Couch to 5K program and listening to podcasts that tell me when to run and when to walk. I'm on week 3. I've run three minutes in a row and didn't feel like dying. I am even considering doing the Rambling Rose Triathlon in October with my best friend and her daughter. Oh, who am I fooling, I will do this. I can do this. It will be special. (Jen, I'm all in!)
All this has opened my eyes to the process of change. Change often happens too slowly for my taste. But the good thing about blogging the way I do is the opportunity it provides to see where I've been, physically, mentally and emotionally. So in the spirit of recognizing change, I give a blast from the past ...
Screaming Uncle (yeah, it's as bad as it sounds!)
Till next time!
I now sleep all night long.
I shower several times a week and my legs are shaved with some regularity. I no longer sport a mustache. (You brunettes out there KNOW what I'm talking about.)
The kids leave me alone and play with each other for up to a half hour at a time.
I only wipe one child's bottom on a regular basis.
My youngest turns three this week. I can see a diaperless, self-dressing future for him from here. Do you know what that means??? I will be able to leave the house without diapers and wipes. I will no longer have to wrestle clothes on a rabid porcupine hell-bent on just not cooperating.
This is a huge milestone.
For years, I've been too tired to maintain all but the most convenient of friendships: neighbors, church friends, family. For years, my appearance, fitness and general health have taken a back seat to my children's needs. For years, I've not made efforts to socialize widely because of the unpredictability of young children and the strong possibility that I'd fall asleep if I sat down anywhere.
My M.O. has primarily been to stick to a kid-centered schedule with as little deviation as possible to achieve the most peaceful environment for all involved, including myself. That has been my way of taking care of myself all these years.
Things are changing, though. At the beginning of the year, I was ready to quit my gym membership. The kids had had runny noses since Thanksgiving and it was impossible to take them to the gym. I thought my membership was up at the end of January. Turns out, it was up at the end of March. An employee there convinced me to stick it out until then and try some group exercise classes.
I then inadvertently walked into one of the toughest classes in the gym, kettlebell twice a week, with a Golden Gloves boxing champion for a trainer. I didn't think about how intimidating it would be to walk into a class alone for the first time. Right away, a few women approached me and encouraged me through my first few weeks. I didn't feel judged or inferior. I didn't have to hide my sense of accomplishment.
Since then, I've become more mindful of my eating habits using a fitness app called My Fitness Pal. I've lost 12 pounds, 7 inches off my waist, 3 inches off my hips and 2 inches off my thighs. And when kettlebell started to get easier, I increased my weights. When that got too easy, I started running.
Now, I used to tell people that if they ever saw me running, they better run, too, because something was chasing me (and it was probably a snotty child). I also used to sit in the breakfast nook in early January watching the newly resolved joggers going by and telling my husband "I wish I liked running."
Well, guess what? I don't like running. I love running. I want to do it every day, but I'm taking it slow to avoid injury. I'm using the Couch to 5K program and listening to podcasts that tell me when to run and when to walk. I'm on week 3. I've run three minutes in a row and didn't feel like dying. I am even considering doing the Rambling Rose Triathlon in October with my best friend and her daughter. Oh, who am I fooling, I will do this. I can do this. It will be special. (Jen, I'm all in!)
All this has opened my eyes to the process of change. Change often happens too slowly for my taste. But the good thing about blogging the way I do is the opportunity it provides to see where I've been, physically, mentally and emotionally. So in the spirit of recognizing change, I give a blast from the past ...
Screaming Uncle (yeah, it's as bad as it sounds!)
Till next time!
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Overheard
What's it been? Six weeks since my last post? Yeah, I'm getting lazy. Or as a friend pointed out this weekend, it's hard to write when the bucket is empty. Nothing seems out of the ordinary enough anymore to write about. Until suddenly it does.
One day, my sweet daughter came in the kitchen all excited and breathlessly explained to me in about 200 words that she had changed the toilet paper roll all by herself.
All of a sudden Fiona can hit a baseball and Danny can catch a football and Owen, well, um, he's kind of a pain in the bum. So some things take a little longer to change.
Owen is a handful these days. He's loud and belligerent. I've had to wrestle him out of the public eye and into the van, kicking and screaming (him, not me), all the while afraid someone will call the cops thinking the poor child is being abducted. He also truly believes that anything he has touched within the past 30 days belongs to him and no one is allowed to touch, look at or play with that item. Danny summed it up best.
We're having a bad Owen, Danny says. Indeed. I want to remove my eardrums.
He's also exploring the potty. Since he's my third child, I am not touching potty "training" with a ten foot pole. I'm just letting him figure it out. In the mornings and evenings, he often just sits on his little potty which sings when he pees in it or when you push the little button under the pot.
Pee not coming out. I push button and pee will come out. He then proceeds to push the button under the potty fully expecting his pee to come out. Oh, if only it were that easy!
We've also had two more rounds of the stomach bug. Owen was the first to fall.
Look at this, Owen exclaims after throwing up in his hand. He'd never thrown up before. At least he was perky.
I want a marshmallow for dinner, Fiona says after a day of throwing up. I think my stomach can handle a marshmallow.
You have frog in your throat. We got to get it out, Owen exclaims. He was coming at her with a back scratcher. Toddlers are so literal.
Here's a phrase I never, ever thought I'd utter ...
You two stop shooting each other with your penises, I tell the boys. They were running around naked after bath time, wrestling and, well, you know.
And another ...
I going to eat on trash can, Owen tells me as he stumbles around the kitchen with a big bowl of refried beans that he sets atop the trash can.
Don't eat on the trash can. You're not a hobo, I tell him.
And another ...
Stop flipping my flip flop around with a spatula and get in the bathtub. Don't even ask me why there was a spatula on my bedroom floor.
And still another ...
I swear if you don't settle down I'm going to tie you up. (Hey, I was desperate. My husband was working a double shift on a Saturday and the kids were jacked up.)
Why you going to tie me up, mommy? Owen said sweetly.
I also once threatened to glue their bums to the grocery cart if they didn't stay seated. I think they understand hyperbole better than most children.
Hey, there's popcorn on those trees, Danny says. The white flowers are coming out on the trees. I will probably call them popcorn trees forever now.
What is she saying, mom? Danny asks about a lady on the radio.
I don't know, honey.
No, you're supposed to know. You're an adult. You know more, he says belligerently.
Look, mom, Owen says as he and Danny are watching the Dukes of Hazzard on YouTube.
No, she doesn't have to look, Owen. It's not her thing, Danny replies.
My kids are obsessed with poop ...
Owen, stop climbing the windows please. (Yes, I actually had to utter that phrase.)
Yeah, that's what I don't do because I'm six and I pooped, Danny explains. I have no idea how poop came to be mentioned here. His brain is such a mystery to me.
I just had one little peanut come out of my butt, Danny informs us. That's weird. I poop peanuts now.
She's going poop. [Fiona] did her poop dance, Danny tells me.
After a less than stellar report for the day, Danny informs me: It was dad's fault. He gave me sugar for breakfast.
Till next time.
One day, my sweet daughter came in the kitchen all excited and breathlessly explained to me in about 200 words that she had changed the toilet paper roll all by herself.
All of a sudden Fiona can hit a baseball and Danny can catch a football and Owen, well, um, he's kind of a pain in the bum. So some things take a little longer to change.
Owen is a handful these days. He's loud and belligerent. I've had to wrestle him out of the public eye and into the van, kicking and screaming (him, not me), all the while afraid someone will call the cops thinking the poor child is being abducted. He also truly believes that anything he has touched within the past 30 days belongs to him and no one is allowed to touch, look at or play with that item. Danny summed it up best.
We're having a bad Owen, Danny says. Indeed. I want to remove my eardrums.
He's also exploring the potty. Since he's my third child, I am not touching potty "training" with a ten foot pole. I'm just letting him figure it out. In the mornings and evenings, he often just sits on his little potty which sings when he pees in it or when you push the little button under the pot.
Pee not coming out. I push button and pee will come out. He then proceeds to push the button under the potty fully expecting his pee to come out. Oh, if only it were that easy!
We've also had two more rounds of the stomach bug. Owen was the first to fall.
Look at this, Owen exclaims after throwing up in his hand. He'd never thrown up before. At least he was perky.
I want a marshmallow for dinner, Fiona says after a day of throwing up. I think my stomach can handle a marshmallow.
You have frog in your throat. We got to get it out, Owen exclaims. He was coming at her with a back scratcher. Toddlers are so literal.
Here's a phrase I never, ever thought I'd utter ...
You two stop shooting each other with your penises, I tell the boys. They were running around naked after bath time, wrestling and, well, you know.
And another ...
I going to eat on trash can, Owen tells me as he stumbles around the kitchen with a big bowl of refried beans that he sets atop the trash can.
Don't eat on the trash can. You're not a hobo, I tell him.
And another ...
Stop flipping my flip flop around with a spatula and get in the bathtub. Don't even ask me why there was a spatula on my bedroom floor.
And still another ...
I swear if you don't settle down I'm going to tie you up. (Hey, I was desperate. My husband was working a double shift on a Saturday and the kids were jacked up.)
Why you going to tie me up, mommy? Owen said sweetly.
I also once threatened to glue their bums to the grocery cart if they didn't stay seated. I think they understand hyperbole better than most children.
Hey, there's popcorn on those trees, Danny says. The white flowers are coming out on the trees. I will probably call them popcorn trees forever now.
What is she saying, mom? Danny asks about a lady on the radio.
I don't know, honey.
No, you're supposed to know. You're an adult. You know more, he says belligerently.
Look, mom, Owen says as he and Danny are watching the Dukes of Hazzard on YouTube.
No, she doesn't have to look, Owen. It's not her thing, Danny replies.
My kids are obsessed with poop ...
Owen, stop climbing the windows please. (Yes, I actually had to utter that phrase.)
Yeah, that's what I don't do because I'm six and I pooped, Danny explains. I have no idea how poop came to be mentioned here. His brain is such a mystery to me.
I just had one little peanut come out of my butt, Danny informs us. That's weird. I poop peanuts now.
She's going poop. [Fiona] did her poop dance, Danny tells me.
After a less than stellar report for the day, Danny informs me: It was dad's fault. He gave me sugar for breakfast.
Till next time.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Overheard
The Kindergarten Follies edition
Danny has had an interesting couple of weeks at school. We get a report every day. Smileys. Frownies. Straight faces. Color commentary such as the following:
1. Had to warn him twice. Wouldn't stop sniffing children.
Danny, why were you sniffing kids?
I wanted to know what they smelled like.
2. Pulled pants down and showed girls his bottom.
Did you talk to him about it? I asked Jim.
I told him the same thing my assistant principal told me in kindergarten when I pulled my pants down in the library.
Um, excuse me? This information should really have been disclosed before we had children, dear.
Jim asked him, Would you do that in church?
No.
Would you do that in the grocery store?
No.
Then don't do it in school.
3. Drew freckles on his face.
You have freckles, Danny. Why did you draw freckles on your face?
Because Brandon did it.
Well, why did Brandon do it?
Because he doesn't have freckles.
So if Brandon jumped off a bridge, would you?
No.
Oh. Why not?
Because it's dangerous.
He was silent for a moment and then said:
But we can do it spring. That's how we cool off.
So, basically he would jump off a bridge, but only in the springtime. Lovely.
4. Rang the magic bell. Wanted kids to look at him.
Now, the magic bell belongs to the teacher. She rings it. The kids are supposed to stop what they are doing and look at her. When I've been in the classroom and she's rung the bell, Danny freezes and looks. If I'm not doing the same, I get scolded. By a six year old.
Moooooom. You just have to look, he whispers.
A few from the awwwww file:
Want to listen to Jack Brown, Owen says. I had just turned on Pandora. He knows that mommy loves her Jackson Brown!
Want two more [carrots], Owen asks.
For you?
For brother and sister. And this is why I will hurt those two if they are mean to him.
Ow. My back, I say.
I'll go get backscratcher, Owen says. He is so sweet. He also goes and gets ice packs from the freezer whenever anyone gets hurt. It's hard to believe he's the same child who runs up to his siblings and just punches them. (I'm just waiting for him to get them an ice pack after he punches them.)
As for Fiona, she's still with us. She whines so darn much lately that I have NO IDEA what she is saying half the time. All mothers need a whine translator.
Till next time.
Danny has had an interesting couple of weeks at school. We get a report every day. Smileys. Frownies. Straight faces. Color commentary such as the following:
1. Had to warn him twice. Wouldn't stop sniffing children.
Danny, why were you sniffing kids?
I wanted to know what they smelled like.
2. Pulled pants down and showed girls his bottom.
Did you talk to him about it? I asked Jim.
I told him the same thing my assistant principal told me in kindergarten when I pulled my pants down in the library.
Um, excuse me? This information should really have been disclosed before we had children, dear.
Jim asked him, Would you do that in church?
No.
Would you do that in the grocery store?
No.
Then don't do it in school.
3. Drew freckles on his face.
You have freckles, Danny. Why did you draw freckles on your face?
Because Brandon did it.
Well, why did Brandon do it?
Because he doesn't have freckles.
So if Brandon jumped off a bridge, would you?
No.
Oh. Why not?
Because it's dangerous.
He was silent for a moment and then said:
But we can do it spring. That's how we cool off.
So, basically he would jump off a bridge, but only in the springtime. Lovely.
4. Rang the magic bell. Wanted kids to look at him.
Now, the magic bell belongs to the teacher. She rings it. The kids are supposed to stop what they are doing and look at her. When I've been in the classroom and she's rung the bell, Danny freezes and looks. If I'm not doing the same, I get scolded. By a six year old.
Moooooom. You just have to look, he whispers.
A few from the awwwww file:
Want to listen to Jack Brown, Owen says. I had just turned on Pandora. He knows that mommy loves her Jackson Brown!
Want two more [carrots], Owen asks.
For you?
For brother and sister. And this is why I will hurt those two if they are mean to him.
Ow. My back, I say.
I'll go get backscratcher, Owen says. He is so sweet. He also goes and gets ice packs from the freezer whenever anyone gets hurt. It's hard to believe he's the same child who runs up to his siblings and just punches them. (I'm just waiting for him to get them an ice pack after he punches them.)
As for Fiona, she's still with us. She whines so darn much lately that I have NO IDEA what she is saying half the time. All mothers need a whine translator.
Till next time.
Friday, March 01, 2013
Overheard
The February Plague edition
There really has not been a dry nose since Thanksgiving around here. When I mentioned the lingering illnesses to someone recently, they asked what the kids had.
Um, this week? Let's see ... stomach bug, runny noses, fever, coughs, ear infection.
Yep, I'm pretty sure we have the plague.
Sunday night I lost count of how many times I changed the girl's sheets and pajamas. There was even an emergency bath.
Monday and Tuesday I was sick. Thursday Fiona came down with an ear infection. I had Owen checked for good measure but the doctor couldn't even get enough wax out to see his eardrum.
He probably can't hear you very well, she commented. This explains so much right now. I couldn't tell if he was deaf or just exceptionally stubborn. And he's loud. Really, really loud.
That afternoon, I went to pick Danny up alone while my dad hung out with the other two. It was a nice change and chance to hang out with Danny alone. You never know where a conversation with him will go, though.
Owen has so much wax in his ear that he can't even hear us, I tell Danny.
We should yell at him, Danny replied. Well, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I had just called the doctor for an appointment.
And since Fiona did have a stomach virus earlier in the week, it lent some credence to constant, literal belly aching.
My belly hurts, Fiona tells me. She doesn't want to finish her dinner.
Does it hurt too much for a cookie?
No, no, I can eat the cookie and then throw it up.
Honey, that's called bulimia.
-----
What was that [noise]? I ask, finding Danny atop a blanket that was a tent and the puzzle basket on the floor.
I tried to balance on [the blanket]. I just laughed and laughed.
How'd that work out for you?
Later when we told his father about it ...
That's not a good place for a tent, he wailed.
Um, Danny, that was not a good place to walk.
You're halfly bald, Danny tells his father.
Owen did it, Fiona yells whenever something goes wrong. But usually, it's Fiona who stirs the pot. Case in point ...
Danny was hysterical (and rightly so) after his sister smashed his art project for no apparent reason. Really, I don't know what to do about her. She's a master tormentor. Danny had some ideas, though.
We should call her stupid for the rest of her life, he wailed.
When are we going on vacation? is Danny's constant question these days. He's been packing his craft tool box that his aunt and uncle gave him for Christmas.
Oh, no, my silly band broke, Danny wails. Get the hot glue.
You can't fix a silly band with hot glue, Jim says.
Why?
'Cause that would just be silly.
Later on ...
See, I fixed it. I turned it into a duck, Jim says.
You guys are having little donuts without me? Jim says when he finds the kids scarfing down Cheerios.
If you throw a penny into water and make a wish, you will get it, Danny reports. This is big news to a 6 year old. I know because Brandon wished for a popsicle and he GOT IT.
Did you get one? Jim asked.
I didn't put in a penny.
Well, then it must work.
Danny had his very first field trip this week, too. His class went to a local art museum. We asked him what he did there.
I didn't touch the pictures, he said. His father and I both howled with laughter. Danny was too tired to know what we were laughing about.
Here's hoping the plague lifts.
There really has not been a dry nose since Thanksgiving around here. When I mentioned the lingering illnesses to someone recently, they asked what the kids had.
Um, this week? Let's see ... stomach bug, runny noses, fever, coughs, ear infection.
Yep, I'm pretty sure we have the plague.
Sunday night I lost count of how many times I changed the girl's sheets and pajamas. There was even an emergency bath.
Monday and Tuesday I was sick. Thursday Fiona came down with an ear infection. I had Owen checked for good measure but the doctor couldn't even get enough wax out to see his eardrum.
He probably can't hear you very well, she commented. This explains so much right now. I couldn't tell if he was deaf or just exceptionally stubborn. And he's loud. Really, really loud.
That afternoon, I went to pick Danny up alone while my dad hung out with the other two. It was a nice change and chance to hang out with Danny alone. You never know where a conversation with him will go, though.
Owen has so much wax in his ear that he can't even hear us, I tell Danny.
We should yell at him, Danny replied. Well, that wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I had just called the doctor for an appointment.
And since Fiona did have a stomach virus earlier in the week, it lent some credence to constant, literal belly aching.
My belly hurts, Fiona tells me. She doesn't want to finish her dinner.
Does it hurt too much for a cookie?
No, no, I can eat the cookie and then throw it up.
Honey, that's called bulimia.
-----
What was that [noise]? I ask, finding Danny atop a blanket that was a tent and the puzzle basket on the floor.
I tried to balance on [the blanket]. I just laughed and laughed.
How'd that work out for you?
Later when we told his father about it ...
That's not a good place for a tent, he wailed.
Um, Danny, that was not a good place to walk.
You're halfly bald, Danny tells his father.
Owen did it, Fiona yells whenever something goes wrong. But usually, it's Fiona who stirs the pot. Case in point ...
Danny was hysterical (and rightly so) after his sister smashed his art project for no apparent reason. Really, I don't know what to do about her. She's a master tormentor. Danny had some ideas, though.
We should call her stupid for the rest of her life, he wailed.
When are we going on vacation? is Danny's constant question these days. He's been packing his craft tool box that his aunt and uncle gave him for Christmas.
Oh, no, my silly band broke, Danny wails. Get the hot glue.
You can't fix a silly band with hot glue, Jim says.
Why?
'Cause that would just be silly.
Later on ...
See, I fixed it. I turned it into a duck, Jim says.
You guys are having little donuts without me? Jim says when he finds the kids scarfing down Cheerios.
If you throw a penny into water and make a wish, you will get it, Danny reports. This is big news to a 6 year old. I know because Brandon wished for a popsicle and he GOT IT.
Did you get one? Jim asked.
I didn't put in a penny.
Well, then it must work.
Danny had his very first field trip this week, too. His class went to a local art museum. We asked him what he did there.
I didn't touch the pictures, he said. His father and I both howled with laughter. Danny was too tired to know what we were laughing about.
Here's hoping the plague lifts.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Overheard
There are times as a parent when you are just baffled. One day this week on Danny's behavior report we got this little gem: "Pulled pants down at little recess and showed his bottom." So, essentially, he mooned some kids on the playground.
When we asked him about it, he said:
I forgot to not show my butt.
Yeah, I hear you, kid. Sometimes adults forget not to show their butts, too. We have no idea where he got this idea. Just another day in the life of an impulsive 6 year old boy, I guess.
Then there are the time when you are completely blindsided. It's particularly frustrating when you think you've been consistent and fair. Another day this week, I had given Danny the five minute warning to finish what he was doing and come help set the table. At the end of five minutes, I got teeth gritting, toy throwing, coffee table traversing and trampoline jumping. All in an effort to avoid stopping his activity, which he had stopped to put on an epic display of defiance. By the time he got to the mini trampoline, I continued calmly repeating my instructions.
NO. NO. I need to get exercise mom, he practically whimpered. I tried really hard not to laugh.
Speaking of exercise, we've continued with our Sunday hiking outings. This past weekend, we hiked on the Eno River again. The kids love running around in the woods and we even went off trail for a bit. (Don't worry, it's impossible to get lost there.)
Look at all this nature, Danny exclaimed when we got there.
-------------------------
Don't juggle your hamburger, Danny. Really.
Now I have a staircase in my mouth, Danny says after he lost another tooth. The lost tooth was right next to a growing adult tooth.
This is fun. Can we do this all day? Danny asks. Guess what they were doing? Cleaning their grimy little fingerprints off the railings and door frames with Clorox wipes. Excellent.
Five more minutes guys, I tell the kids while we're at the museum.
I want to stay, Danny whines.
You can. For five more minutes. A few mommies nearby snickered.
I want to watch TV, Danny whines.
You can watch the TV all you want, Jim replies. We're just not turning it on.
Until then, the kids had been playing nicely, making a community with the train tracks in the playroom. Owen's contribution was a natural disaster.
Tornado coming! he screamed before knocking over trees and buildings.
He's really just darling these days. When Danny got in the van after school, Owen asked:
How was your day? (heart melting!!)
And then we have incidents like this. I asked him to put a napkin at everyone's place at the table. He lowered his gaze at me and said:
Don't want to. Oh yes, he did. It used to be cute, but he's approaching 3 years of age. His life is about to get a little tougher.
Something else he doesn't want to do right now?
Do you want to poop in the potty? I ask him. He tells us when he's pooping or when he has poop.
Nope. Don't want to fall in, he says. Great.
Fiona is rather emotional and easily frustrated lately. She often loses her temper with inanimate objects and then the object goes sailing across the room.
It wasn't listening to me, she wails. While I can identify, I find it very hard to sympathize with that sentiment.
Till next time ...
When we asked him about it, he said:
I forgot to not show my butt.
Yeah, I hear you, kid. Sometimes adults forget not to show their butts, too. We have no idea where he got this idea. Just another day in the life of an impulsive 6 year old boy, I guess.
Then there are the time when you are completely blindsided. It's particularly frustrating when you think you've been consistent and fair. Another day this week, I had given Danny the five minute warning to finish what he was doing and come help set the table. At the end of five minutes, I got teeth gritting, toy throwing, coffee table traversing and trampoline jumping. All in an effort to avoid stopping his activity, which he had stopped to put on an epic display of defiance. By the time he got to the mini trampoline, I continued calmly repeating my instructions.
NO. NO. I need to get exercise mom, he practically whimpered. I tried really hard not to laugh.
Speaking of exercise, we've continued with our Sunday hiking outings. This past weekend, we hiked on the Eno River again. The kids love running around in the woods and we even went off trail for a bit. (Don't worry, it's impossible to get lost there.)
Look at all this nature, Danny exclaimed when we got there.
-------------------------
Don't juggle your hamburger, Danny. Really.
Now I have a staircase in my mouth, Danny says after he lost another tooth. The lost tooth was right next to a growing adult tooth.
This is fun. Can we do this all day? Danny asks. Guess what they were doing? Cleaning their grimy little fingerprints off the railings and door frames with Clorox wipes. Excellent.
Five more minutes guys, I tell the kids while we're at the museum.
I want to stay, Danny whines.
You can. For five more minutes. A few mommies nearby snickered.
I want to watch TV, Danny whines.
You can watch the TV all you want, Jim replies. We're just not turning it on.
Until then, the kids had been playing nicely, making a community with the train tracks in the playroom. Owen's contribution was a natural disaster.
Tornado coming! he screamed before knocking over trees and buildings.
He's really just darling these days. When Danny got in the van after school, Owen asked:
How was your day? (heart melting!!)
And then we have incidents like this. I asked him to put a napkin at everyone's place at the table. He lowered his gaze at me and said:
Don't want to. Oh yes, he did. It used to be cute, but he's approaching 3 years of age. His life is about to get a little tougher.
Something else he doesn't want to do right now?
Do you want to poop in the potty? I ask him. He tells us when he's pooping or when he has poop.
Nope. Don't want to fall in, he says. Great.
Fiona is rather emotional and easily frustrated lately. She often loses her temper with inanimate objects and then the object goes sailing across the room.
It wasn't listening to me, she wails. While I can identify, I find it very hard to sympathize with that sentiment.
Till next time ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)