I don't have a belly button. I just don't. Its all very hilarious to " honk" the belly button of a toddler, but so much less hilarious to " honk" the belly button of a grown up, specifically me. Therefore, I do not have a belly button. There is no need to expose my stomach to anyone because I DO NOT HAVE A BELLY BUTTON.
Despite years of my practiced speech regarding the futile nature of a belly button search my children are undeterred. Of course the older ones have by now figured out that I do have a belly button but it does not get honked. The younger ones are still contemplating the mystery.
This morning Griffin honked his own belly button and cracked up. Very, very funny. So funny he needed to share. He honked Laurel's belly button. Hilarity ensued. He set his sights on me.
No Griffin, I do not have a belly button.
He grabbed at my pajama top.
No Griffin, go get daddy's belly button.
The cat hopped up and sat down.
Oooh the cat's belly button can get honked.
COME BACK! Griffin chortled with glee as he tried to get the cat's belly button.
But that spot right under the cats tail? Not a belly button.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Honing My Skills
I am so glad I went to college. College prepared me for life. I was able to hone my deductive reasoning skills. Had I not been able to hone these skills I would never have solved yesterday"s mystery.
Griffin went into the bathroom. Griffin came out of the bathroom. Griffin needed to wipe. Griffin went right back into the bathroom. I sat him on the toilet and he finished what he had started. I looked around the bathroom and his room and the hallway for any remnants I may have missed. All clear.
Dinner time rolled around, as it always does. OK everyone, time to wash hands!
They all trooped into the bathroom.
Oh NO! Mommy! There is poop on the floor!
I went and checked it out. No one had been in the bathroom and there was indeed poop smeared on the floor. There was nothing in the toilet or on the walls. I checked bottoms and bottoms of feet. Nothing. Everyone was clean, dry and free of anything vile. So how did it get there? And how was it smeared if no one stepped in it?
I thought and thought.
OK, if Griffin had in fact had an accident earlier how did I miss it when I cleaned the floor with bleach? That could not have happened.
I thought some more.
Finally my college education paid off...
I turned the step stool over. My answer laid in stinky wait. There it was. A small blob of poop. So, Griffin had gone into the bathroom, had a bit of poop on the floor, covered it with the step stool ( this also explains the vaguely guilty face I'd dismissed earlier). When it was time to wash hands someone scooted the step stool over, smearing the otherwise hidden poop.
Griffin? Did you poop on the floor and hide it with the step stool?
No, Laurel did.
I think you pooped on the floor Griffin.
NO, LAUREL DID.
No, she did not. I went to college where I honed my powers of deductive reasoning, little knowing at the time that I would someday put these skills to good use.
Griffin went into the bathroom. Griffin came out of the bathroom. Griffin needed to wipe. Griffin went right back into the bathroom. I sat him on the toilet and he finished what he had started. I looked around the bathroom and his room and the hallway for any remnants I may have missed. All clear.
Dinner time rolled around, as it always does. OK everyone, time to wash hands!
They all trooped into the bathroom.
Oh NO! Mommy! There is poop on the floor!
I went and checked it out. No one had been in the bathroom and there was indeed poop smeared on the floor. There was nothing in the toilet or on the walls. I checked bottoms and bottoms of feet. Nothing. Everyone was clean, dry and free of anything vile. So how did it get there? And how was it smeared if no one stepped in it?
I thought and thought.
OK, if Griffin had in fact had an accident earlier how did I miss it when I cleaned the floor with bleach? That could not have happened.
I thought some more.
Finally my college education paid off...
I turned the step stool over. My answer laid in stinky wait. There it was. A small blob of poop. So, Griffin had gone into the bathroom, had a bit of poop on the floor, covered it with the step stool ( this also explains the vaguely guilty face I'd dismissed earlier). When it was time to wash hands someone scooted the step stool over, smearing the otherwise hidden poop.
Griffin? Did you poop on the floor and hide it with the step stool?
No, Laurel did.
I think you pooped on the floor Griffin.
NO, LAUREL DID.
No, she did not. I went to college where I honed my powers of deductive reasoning, little knowing at the time that I would someday put these skills to good use.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Blogging with Liz's Reaction in Mind
I've been wondering how I could have become quite so bad at keeping things orderly. I like things put away. I don't like clutter. I don't like stacks and piles of things. Yet when I look about the house thats precisely what I see.
My life currently revolves around the 2-3 loads of laundry I do daily. I load, run, empty, reload, run and empty the dishwasher twice daily. I vacuum daily. You'd think this place would be spotless, but its a sty.
The fact is there is no way to keep up once I have been delivered the smallest of setbacks.
Last week Oliver crawled into our bed early one morning. Then he threw up all over our bed. Then he threw up in the bathroom, on the sofa, on a chair, on the floor, on his bed, and a little more on the floor for good measure. So I had a lot of sheets and blankets and pillows to wash and some floors to scrub .Oh, and some pajamas and clothes to wash. OK, but since I usually do 2-3 loads of laundry per day anyway this actually sets me back a week or so.
Oliver needs to vomit just as Laurel needs to pee. With one bathroom this means something will be hitting the floor. So add urine soaked clothing to the list of Things In Need Of Washing.
I try to remember to feed the fish. If the light in the tank is still out then no one has remembered. I get out the fish food just as more vomit occurs so I run into the other room, leaving the fish food on the ledge by the aquarium. You can't do that. The cats inexplicably like the fish food. So Walle and Paddington bat the fish food down and proceed to chaw on it until it opens a little and they can spread fish food all over the floor . So I have another mess to clean.
While I clean the fish food mess Griffin squirts half a tube of toothpaste down the already slowly draining bathroom sink.
While I try to deal with the sink I hear the soft thud of clothing falling. Paddington has taken to sleeping in closets. In order to access the closet shelves he must shimmy up the built in shelves then he reaches and grabs the overhead shelving and climbs up like an opossum, assuming thats how opossums do it. But, he doesn't actually fit up there. Not without knocking clothing out of his way. So our clothes are on the floor.
Oliver likes to curl up with an Lmax and play either School House Rock or Mr. Pencil's Learn to Write and Draw. However, he does not like to curl up anywhere. He likes to curl up in our bed. Without covers. So I can either make my bed 4000 times a day or I can just leave it in a depressing unmade heap the way Oliver likes it.
People have pointed out that I just need to explain to Oliver that he can't do that. While that works for most children, it does not work for Oliver. Special needs kids process things differently. There are some battles I will fight and I will do anything and everything to get him to understand. But unmaking beds, in the scheme of things, isn't such a big deal. Sure, the mess and disarray gets to me, but I also appreciate how far he has come.
Holden loves Legos. There are small Lego bits everywhere. I tried to cure the problem with an Elfa System storage unit. There are 2 small drawers for the mini figures and headlights and tiny wrenches and light sabers and helmets. There are two larger drawers for the bigger pieces, the knights and horses, the large tiles of castle pieces and trap doors. It helped a little. At first I thought it was Holden leaving the bits of Lego in every room. Until I saw the cats playing with them. I saw them! They were batting helmets to one another.
Oliver loves to write. I buy bulk packs of pads of paper at Costco and we blow through them. There is a down side to this. Oliver looks like a mad scientist, scribbling down words and flinging the used sheets of paper over his shoulder, his fingers trying to keep pace with his mind. I love that he writes. I love that he can suddenly show us whats going on. But the reams of paper all over the place can be disconcerting.
Griffin is a fan of trailing things. He likes to take parts of games and pieces of puzzles and trail them into different rooms. Game parts become sentimental and he will choose one or two to sleep with;- a fish from Fishin' Around, or a card from a Bingo game. Pieces and bits of things migrate to all sorts of unlikely places.
In the end I've realized I did not suddenly become bad at maintaining organization. I just can't do it by myself. Which is sort of unfortunate.
Maybe we should get a dog.
My life currently revolves around the 2-3 loads of laundry I do daily. I load, run, empty, reload, run and empty the dishwasher twice daily. I vacuum daily. You'd think this place would be spotless, but its a sty.
The fact is there is no way to keep up once I have been delivered the smallest of setbacks.
Last week Oliver crawled into our bed early one morning. Then he threw up all over our bed. Then he threw up in the bathroom, on the sofa, on a chair, on the floor, on his bed, and a little more on the floor for good measure. So I had a lot of sheets and blankets and pillows to wash and some floors to scrub .Oh, and some pajamas and clothes to wash. OK, but since I usually do 2-3 loads of laundry per day anyway this actually sets me back a week or so.
Oliver needs to vomit just as Laurel needs to pee. With one bathroom this means something will be hitting the floor. So add urine soaked clothing to the list of Things In Need Of Washing.
I try to remember to feed the fish. If the light in the tank is still out then no one has remembered. I get out the fish food just as more vomit occurs so I run into the other room, leaving the fish food on the ledge by the aquarium. You can't do that. The cats inexplicably like the fish food. So Walle and Paddington bat the fish food down and proceed to chaw on it until it opens a little and they can spread fish food all over the floor . So I have another mess to clean.
While I clean the fish food mess Griffin squirts half a tube of toothpaste down the already slowly draining bathroom sink.
While I try to deal with the sink I hear the soft thud of clothing falling. Paddington has taken to sleeping in closets. In order to access the closet shelves he must shimmy up the built in shelves then he reaches and grabs the overhead shelving and climbs up like an opossum, assuming thats how opossums do it. But, he doesn't actually fit up there. Not without knocking clothing out of his way. So our clothes are on the floor.
Oliver likes to curl up with an Lmax and play either School House Rock or Mr. Pencil's Learn to Write and Draw. However, he does not like to curl up anywhere. He likes to curl up in our bed. Without covers. So I can either make my bed 4000 times a day or I can just leave it in a depressing unmade heap the way Oliver likes it.
People have pointed out that I just need to explain to Oliver that he can't do that. While that works for most children, it does not work for Oliver. Special needs kids process things differently. There are some battles I will fight and I will do anything and everything to get him to understand. But unmaking beds, in the scheme of things, isn't such a big deal. Sure, the mess and disarray gets to me, but I also appreciate how far he has come.
Holden loves Legos. There are small Lego bits everywhere. I tried to cure the problem with an Elfa System storage unit. There are 2 small drawers for the mini figures and headlights and tiny wrenches and light sabers and helmets. There are two larger drawers for the bigger pieces, the knights and horses, the large tiles of castle pieces and trap doors. It helped a little. At first I thought it was Holden leaving the bits of Lego in every room. Until I saw the cats playing with them. I saw them! They were batting helmets to one another.
Oliver loves to write. I buy bulk packs of pads of paper at Costco and we blow through them. There is a down side to this. Oliver looks like a mad scientist, scribbling down words and flinging the used sheets of paper over his shoulder, his fingers trying to keep pace with his mind. I love that he writes. I love that he can suddenly show us whats going on. But the reams of paper all over the place can be disconcerting.
Griffin is a fan of trailing things. He likes to take parts of games and pieces of puzzles and trail them into different rooms. Game parts become sentimental and he will choose one or two to sleep with;- a fish from Fishin' Around, or a card from a Bingo game. Pieces and bits of things migrate to all sorts of unlikely places.
In the end I've realized I did not suddenly become bad at maintaining organization. I just can't do it by myself. Which is sort of unfortunate.
Maybe we should get a dog.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
The Fish Tank
I don't know whats going on. I mean, I generally don't, and I like it that way, but in this particular instance I'm a little more confused than usual.
About two weeks ago Holden came tearing into the kitchen holding the fish net.
" Look! Look!"
He had a teeny baby fish in the net.
"Put it back in the tank!" Jeff and I yelled simultaneously.
One of the fish had given birth. This thing was tiny. It was all eyes and a tail. The really surprising part is that our tank is a bit of a disaster. We usually find dead things, not extra alive things. We battle algae with neglect which isn't always the best technique. I would never have guessed that neglect would provide a fertile environment.
Well, now that we have a baby we have to take care of it. I wonder if thats how crack heads feel when they discover they are giving birth. We googled care of fish babies and unplanned fish birth. We learned we needed to sequester the baby.
We went to Petco to get supplies but they don't sell them. Why would they? They are a pet supply store. We went to the more high end aquarium supply place. We said we needed something to use to sequester a baby fish. They explained we needed to separate the baby fish. Yes, thats why we are here, to procure the supplies needed to sequester the baby fish. They explained the mother fish or any of the other fish could eat the baby. Yes, we are here to buy the appropriate supplies. Do you sell baby fish sequestering devises?
What is a sequestering devise? They wanted to know.
Well, presumably something used to sequester baby fish.
You will need to separate the baby fish , they explained.
OK, thanks for that. Do you sell something like that? ( Perhaps the word sequestering threw them off).
Yes.
Yup, the word sequester was the problem.
Eventually we bought a net to set up in the corner of the tank. We set it up. In two minutes baby Nemo was on the other side. We arranged the net with more gravel around the bottom and tried to seal off all possible escape routes. Two minutes later Nemo was out. We gave up.
Nemo is doing well. He has beat the odds and within the last two weeks has tripled in size. There was a point, a week ago, where I spotted an additional small orange fish. The next day it was gone. He did not have the staying power of Nemo.
We all check on Nemo periodically. We're amazed by him.
I always thought I wanted several kids and pets. But I never imagined four kids, 3 cats, multiplying fish and a snail.
Every year at the annual school fundraiser fair Holden likes to play the game where you toss a ball into a bowl and win a goldfish. No one ever wins that game. Except Holden. He wins every year. Of course he does.
The other morning Holden was feeding the fish.
" Mommy! What?! Look!....."
There is a baby snail in our tank.
Of course there is.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Bonk Heads
In a desperate attempt to find space in this house I decided that Holden and Oliver are ready for bunk beds. I've always been hesitant with regard to bunk beds. I've read and heard of so many different incidents revolving around bunk beds that result in injury or death. Bunk beds scare me. But now that Holden is 7, and they have at least seen bunk beds before, and they know other people's rules about bunk beds, I decided, not without a bit of trepidation, that we were ready.
I scoured Craigslist searching for just the right bunk beds. Wood not metal, not too high, ladder must be attached, must have guard rail, must have thick sturdy planks of wood...and eventually the right bed appeared. We emailed the woman back and forth for about a week. She was an older woman who had the bunk beds for her grandchildren who did not use them. I don't think she was online much. I don't think she fully understood how email correspondence works. She didn't really answer questions completely, did not provide a phone number, did not call the phone number I provided her with, and days would go by before she'd reply to a question with a non answer. Eventually she agreed to meet with us on a Saturday.
Bunk Bed woman lived a bit farther out there than we'd anticipated. But we decided that for the price it was worth the drive. So after we hollowed out the mini van Jeff took off on the hour plus drive while I extricated toddler beds and moved twin beds into the twins' room.
Moving furniture around was a bit more involved than I'd anticipated. Two dressers no longer fit in the twins' room so one had to go into the boys' room. Of course then I had to rearrange all the clothing so the twin's clothes could all fit into one dresser. The toddler beds were now in the middle of the living room floor.
We talked a lot about the bunk beds. I wanted Oliver to understand that he would have a new arrangement. I showed him pictures and explained his bed was on the bottom. Holden euphorically spoke of the joys of top bunk. Apparently " Top Bunk" is a destination point. Griffin and Laurel became excited too. They had no idea what a bunk bed was but became caught up in the euphoria.
I made the twin beds with princess sheets and truck/helicopter/car sheets. It was all very intriguing.
" I have bonk heads!" Laurel announced with glee.
Jeff finally arrived home with the bunk beds and it took the better part of the afternoon to assemble them. Several trips to the local hardware store were necessary, but eventually the beds were assembled.
Oliver went right to his bed.
" Time to sleep" he said, clearly understanding which bed was to be his.
Holden went on a top bunk power trip. He was the oldest, the inhabitant of Top Bunk. He alone would sleep in Top Bunk. He could keep his special things in Top Bunk. Top Bunk is so cool.
Everyone is pretty happy with the new arrangements. Griffin loves his helicopter sheets. Oliver seems to like the coziness of the lower bunk. Laurel remains convinced that she too has a " bonk head", and Holden has even invited people up to the inner sanctuary of Top Bunk.
Bunk beds are actually pretty good. What was I waiting for?
I scoured Craigslist searching for just the right bunk beds. Wood not metal, not too high, ladder must be attached, must have guard rail, must have thick sturdy planks of wood...and eventually the right bed appeared. We emailed the woman back and forth for about a week. She was an older woman who had the bunk beds for her grandchildren who did not use them. I don't think she was online much. I don't think she fully understood how email correspondence works. She didn't really answer questions completely, did not provide a phone number, did not call the phone number I provided her with, and days would go by before she'd reply to a question with a non answer. Eventually she agreed to meet with us on a Saturday.
Bunk Bed woman lived a bit farther out there than we'd anticipated. But we decided that for the price it was worth the drive. So after we hollowed out the mini van Jeff took off on the hour plus drive while I extricated toddler beds and moved twin beds into the twins' room.
Moving furniture around was a bit more involved than I'd anticipated. Two dressers no longer fit in the twins' room so one had to go into the boys' room. Of course then I had to rearrange all the clothing so the twin's clothes could all fit into one dresser. The toddler beds were now in the middle of the living room floor.
We talked a lot about the bunk beds. I wanted Oliver to understand that he would have a new arrangement. I showed him pictures and explained his bed was on the bottom. Holden euphorically spoke of the joys of top bunk. Apparently " Top Bunk" is a destination point. Griffin and Laurel became excited too. They had no idea what a bunk bed was but became caught up in the euphoria.
I made the twin beds with princess sheets and truck/helicopter/car sheets. It was all very intriguing.
" I have bonk heads!" Laurel announced with glee.
Jeff finally arrived home with the bunk beds and it took the better part of the afternoon to assemble them. Several trips to the local hardware store were necessary, but eventually the beds were assembled.
Oliver went right to his bed.
" Time to sleep" he said, clearly understanding which bed was to be his.
Holden went on a top bunk power trip. He was the oldest, the inhabitant of Top Bunk. He alone would sleep in Top Bunk. He could keep his special things in Top Bunk. Top Bunk is so cool.
Everyone is pretty happy with the new arrangements. Griffin loves his helicopter sheets. Oliver seems to like the coziness of the lower bunk. Laurel remains convinced that she too has a " bonk head", and Holden has even invited people up to the inner sanctuary of Top Bunk.
Bunk beds are actually pretty good. What was I waiting for?
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
I'm Sick
There are many things I never thought I'd do.
Throwing up with an audience is definitely one of them.
I've had a horrible deep cough forever. I keep hoping it will go away since the logistics of getting to a doctor without kids is in tow is quite complicated. So I've ignored it. At this point I have no idea how long I've been sick. My cough is painful and persistent and emanates from deep within my chest.
The kids aren't the only reason I have not wanted to go to the doctor. I don't particularly like my doctor. She doles out advise not only about my health but about the way I live my my life. I need to just hire a nanny. Apparently she thinks the only reason I don't have a nanny is because it didn't occur to me. I should invest in home gym equipment so my new workout routines can be fit in around any schedule. I tried to explain that we have a very small house and there is no space for home gym equipment, even if we could afford it. She helpfully explained where there is a will there is a way. I suppose I could put it on the front lawn.
Unfortunately I have had to admit to myself that I am sick. I have made an appointment for tomorrow morning. I have the good fortune to find that my doctor is on vacation and I will see another doctor in the practice.
In the interim, I am still sick.
I started coughing during dinner tonight. I could not stop coughing. I went into the bathroom, asking Holden to take care of all second helpings etc with his siblings. I coughed so much I started throwing up. A lot. Oliver came in to observe. He sat about an inch from the toilet, watching me vomit with interest.
" Mommy is sick." I stated. I have to take every opportunity to narrate things for him.
" Sick." Oliver said.
Finally my stomach calmed down. I have not stopped coughing.
" Mommy?" Holden asked.
I made an attempt at saying yes? but it came out as more of a wheeze.
" I don't think your cough drops are working."
Throwing up with an audience is definitely one of them.
I've had a horrible deep cough forever. I keep hoping it will go away since the logistics of getting to a doctor without kids is in tow is quite complicated. So I've ignored it. At this point I have no idea how long I've been sick. My cough is painful and persistent and emanates from deep within my chest.
The kids aren't the only reason I have not wanted to go to the doctor. I don't particularly like my doctor. She doles out advise not only about my health but about the way I live my my life. I need to just hire a nanny. Apparently she thinks the only reason I don't have a nanny is because it didn't occur to me. I should invest in home gym equipment so my new workout routines can be fit in around any schedule. I tried to explain that we have a very small house and there is no space for home gym equipment, even if we could afford it. She helpfully explained where there is a will there is a way. I suppose I could put it on the front lawn.
Unfortunately I have had to admit to myself that I am sick. I have made an appointment for tomorrow morning. I have the good fortune to find that my doctor is on vacation and I will see another doctor in the practice.
In the interim, I am still sick.
I started coughing during dinner tonight. I could not stop coughing. I went into the bathroom, asking Holden to take care of all second helpings etc with his siblings. I coughed so much I started throwing up. A lot. Oliver came in to observe. He sat about an inch from the toilet, watching me vomit with interest.
" Mommy is sick." I stated. I have to take every opportunity to narrate things for him.
" Sick." Oliver said.
Finally my stomach calmed down. I have not stopped coughing.
" Mommy?" Holden asked.
I made an attempt at saying yes? but it came out as more of a wheeze.
" I don't think your cough drops are working."
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Sometimes I don't get it.
I bought Laurel a dress at Target for $4. Its green. She is supposed to wear green on Tuesday so she can show her enthusiasm for St. Patricks Day. She doesn't have anything green. She likes pink. I was not so sure she would like this dress, let alone wear something not pink. But it was $4 so I bought it.
I came home and left the bag on the floor.
Laurel discovered the bag.
" What is this?"
" Thats your green dress for St. Patricks Day!" I explained enthusiastically, hoping she would be fooled by my enthusiasm into thinking this is one awesome dress.
There was no fooling needed. Laurel loves this dress.
" Can I wear it now?"
Well, not now because you are going to wear it on Tuesday.
" I LOVE it. I will be so pretty. I will wear it outside...like a horse".
Um... What?
" I will wear it outside like a horse".
"Um, OK honey".
I'm not going to argue this since she wants to wear it. But I don't really understand.
I bought Laurel a dress at Target for $4. Its green. She is supposed to wear green on Tuesday so she can show her enthusiasm for St. Patricks Day. She doesn't have anything green. She likes pink. I was not so sure she would like this dress, let alone wear something not pink. But it was $4 so I bought it.
I came home and left the bag on the floor.
Laurel discovered the bag.
" What is this?"
" Thats your green dress for St. Patricks Day!" I explained enthusiastically, hoping she would be fooled by my enthusiasm into thinking this is one awesome dress.
There was no fooling needed. Laurel loves this dress.
" Can I wear it now?"
Well, not now because you are going to wear it on Tuesday.
" I LOVE it. I will be so pretty. I will wear it outside...like a horse".
Um... What?
" I will wear it outside like a horse".
"Um, OK honey".
I'm not going to argue this since she wants to wear it. But I don't really understand.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Not In The Mood
There are days when I am just not in the mood. Like today.
I am not in the mood.
I got up and ignored my sore throat and ignored my cough as I prepared four lunches. I made sure 4 children had clothes and were wearing them. I tried to find four pairs of shoes that matched. At 8:00 am everyone pooped. Why? I have no idea. But I needed to change diapers and set aside the shoe quest.
I still was not dressed and clearly did not have time to shower since I was supposed to be leaving the house right now. So I quickly got dressed and grabbed my keys. But I didn't actually grab my keys because I could not find them. I could not find them anywhere.
Holden helped me look in all the usual spots where keys appear. Not there. I gave up and went to grab the spare car keys. Not there. They were on Jeff's desk, which is not where we keep the spare car key, but apparently where Jeff keeps the spare car key.
We exited the house through the back door, and faced the horrendous mess the raccoons had left in the wake of their saturnalian garbage extravaganza.
Finally we were on our way and Holden would be 15 minutes late to school. I brought Holden into his classroom and then I took Griffin and Laurel along with me on the walk of shame to the office so I could let them know that Holden was at school.
I loaded Griffin and Laurel back into the car and headed over to Daycare. On the way out of the car Griffin jumped into a puddle, splashing car oil and filth water up my leg to the knee.
I went back home to see if I could try to find my keys. They were sitting on Holden's desk chair. Where I keep them.
My life is rife with little luxuries and I am always jetting off somewhere. I jetted off to Petco for cat litter and Trader Joe's so I could buy Mighty Bites and hamburger buns. Normally I'd make buns, but I just didn't feel like it. Then I jetted back home to meet Oliver's bus, pick up Holden, then pick up Griffin and Laurel.
While I was out picking up Holden and Griffin and Laurel the cat ate the hamburger buns.
I am not in the mood.
I got up and ignored my sore throat and ignored my cough as I prepared four lunches. I made sure 4 children had clothes and were wearing them. I tried to find four pairs of shoes that matched. At 8:00 am everyone pooped. Why? I have no idea. But I needed to change diapers and set aside the shoe quest.
I still was not dressed and clearly did not have time to shower since I was supposed to be leaving the house right now. So I quickly got dressed and grabbed my keys. But I didn't actually grab my keys because I could not find them. I could not find them anywhere.
Holden helped me look in all the usual spots where keys appear. Not there. I gave up and went to grab the spare car keys. Not there. They were on Jeff's desk, which is not where we keep the spare car key, but apparently where Jeff keeps the spare car key.
We exited the house through the back door, and faced the horrendous mess the raccoons had left in the wake of their saturnalian garbage extravaganza.
Finally we were on our way and Holden would be 15 minutes late to school. I brought Holden into his classroom and then I took Griffin and Laurel along with me on the walk of shame to the office so I could let them know that Holden was at school.
I loaded Griffin and Laurel back into the car and headed over to Daycare. On the way out of the car Griffin jumped into a puddle, splashing car oil and filth water up my leg to the knee.
I went back home to see if I could try to find my keys. They were sitting on Holden's desk chair. Where I keep them.
My life is rife with little luxuries and I am always jetting off somewhere. I jetted off to Petco for cat litter and Trader Joe's so I could buy Mighty Bites and hamburger buns. Normally I'd make buns, but I just didn't feel like it. Then I jetted back home to meet Oliver's bus, pick up Holden, then pick up Griffin and Laurel.
While I was out picking up Holden and Griffin and Laurel the cat ate the hamburger buns.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I Drawed
Laurel got a princess lap desk for her birthday. She LOVED it. Her big brothers have their own desks, and now that she is three, and all grown up, she has her very own desk like a big girl.
Laurel was proud of her new desk. Very proud.
This is what I did not know: Laurel took her special big girl lap desk with her when she went down for her nap.
This is what I learned: Laurel had her princess big girl desk with her when she was unsupervised in her room.
Laurel and Griffin went down for their naps. As always, there was a lot of giggling and commotion before the eventual silence. As always, I ignored the sounds.
Once Laurel and Griffin had quieted I busied myself with whatever thankless tasks I busy myself with during their nap time.
Eventually I heard the rustling and commotion of wakeful children. I opened their door and was met the magic marker... EVERYWHERE.
The marker was on Laurel, on her shirt, on her sheets, on her blanket, on her hands and face. She had been very busy during nap time.
" Laurel! What did you do??"
" Griffin did this." Laurel calmly explained.
She then turned to Griffin and said " You tell her what you did."
Griffin, who was not covered in marker, jovially turned to me and said " I drawed, Mommy".
Um... No you didn't, Laurel did.
I fear the teenage years.
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Dining Room
We went away for a week. Its nice albeit hard to get away with four kids. The planning is always the hardest part. I make lists of lists to make sure nothing is forgotten.
One of the many things to remember is pet care. I arranged for a cat sitter via an agency. They sent the same person we had last time. I like that they are bonded and insured. I don't even really know what bonded means, but it has an official sounding ring to it.
Upon our return we were met with a lengthy list of all the cats' activities and foibles. I find these lists reassuring albeit boring. At least I have proof that someone actually came in and fed the creatures.
Generally I skim these lists of cat activities. Not being insane I don't need to know exactly how the cats managed their time in our absence. This time around however something caught my eye and my interest.
Apparently one of the cats, irritated by our unexplained absence, decided to poop on the floor. While not intriguing in and of itself, the note actually read " someone pooped in the dining room". This is where it gets interesting.
We don't have a dining room.
When we bought this house some of the alleged selling points included an eat in kitchen, and a separate dining room. The eat in kitchen was in fact a bit of counter that juts out awkwardly and hits the refrigerator door. I suppose someone could grab a stool and sit there and hope no one opens the fridge. But I wouldn't really call it an eat in kitchen. The next mystery was the separate dining room. We've never found it. We've looked. We've hoped to discover a secret extra room. I rearrange furniture a lot. I secretly hope that one day I will happen to trigger the sliding passageway and the separate dining room will be revealed. I imagine it will be dusty but well worth the discovery. However, as of yet, its location remains unknown.
The fact that the cat sitter, whom I have never met, uncovered the secret of the hidden dining room, is making me lose my mind.
One of the many things to remember is pet care. I arranged for a cat sitter via an agency. They sent the same person we had last time. I like that they are bonded and insured. I don't even really know what bonded means, but it has an official sounding ring to it.
Upon our return we were met with a lengthy list of all the cats' activities and foibles. I find these lists reassuring albeit boring. At least I have proof that someone actually came in and fed the creatures.
Generally I skim these lists of cat activities. Not being insane I don't need to know exactly how the cats managed their time in our absence. This time around however something caught my eye and my interest.
Apparently one of the cats, irritated by our unexplained absence, decided to poop on the floor. While not intriguing in and of itself, the note actually read " someone pooped in the dining room". This is where it gets interesting.
We don't have a dining room.
When we bought this house some of the alleged selling points included an eat in kitchen, and a separate dining room. The eat in kitchen was in fact a bit of counter that juts out awkwardly and hits the refrigerator door. I suppose someone could grab a stool and sit there and hope no one opens the fridge. But I wouldn't really call it an eat in kitchen. The next mystery was the separate dining room. We've never found it. We've looked. We've hoped to discover a secret extra room. I rearrange furniture a lot. I secretly hope that one day I will happen to trigger the sliding passageway and the separate dining room will be revealed. I imagine it will be dusty but well worth the discovery. However, as of yet, its location remains unknown.
The fact that the cat sitter, whom I have never met, uncovered the secret of the hidden dining room, is making me lose my mind.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Valentines Day
The concept of Valentines day is a difficult one to explain. Especially when there isn't a whole lot to explain. Its a made up holiday in which everyone feels pressured to give people crap to eat, and if you are an adult and single its a time to feel badly about yourself.
With school age children its all about giving the Valentines day cards. Fortunately mine are still too young to be a part of the inclusion/exclusion element of Valentines day cards. Everyone gets one at school.
Holden and Oliver both had Valentines day homework. They needed to make ( or buy) Valentines for each child in their class. Making was not an option. I'm not about to spend 4 months trying to get them to make Valentines.
Oliver loves doing homework when Holden does his homework. So one night we sat down and Oliver wrote out all of his Valentines cards and Holden wrote out about three, complaining the entire time.
The following day I put the Diego and Princess Valentines on the table. I was going to fill them out for Griffin and Laurel to bring to school. Laurel saw them. She saw Princess!
" Oh! Oh! These are MINE! Oh! My.. my... my own homework!"
She was so proud.
I love those moments.
With school age children its all about giving the Valentines day cards. Fortunately mine are still too young to be a part of the inclusion/exclusion element of Valentines day cards. Everyone gets one at school.
Holden and Oliver both had Valentines day homework. They needed to make ( or buy) Valentines for each child in their class. Making was not an option. I'm not about to spend 4 months trying to get them to make Valentines.
Oliver loves doing homework when Holden does his homework. So one night we sat down and Oliver wrote out all of his Valentines cards and Holden wrote out about three, complaining the entire time.
The following day I put the Diego and Princess Valentines on the table. I was going to fill them out for Griffin and Laurel to bring to school. Laurel saw them. She saw Princess!
" Oh! Oh! These are MINE! Oh! My.. my... my own homework!"
She was so proud.
I love those moments.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
HOW Much Is A Pinata?
Griffin and Laurel's 3rd birthday is approaching. We're planning something small. The something small will include a pinata. They will also have a party at school. The school party will also include a pinata. So I thought, OK, I'll buy four pinatas. 2 Princess, 2 Diego. Off I went to the party store.
Pinatas are $20 each. I am not spending $80 on cardboard with tissue glued on it.
Plan B: Nemo pinatas were on clearance for $5 a piece. They will have one pinata at each party. I decided I could simply draw a princess and a Diego and glue them over Nemo. So I went to Walgreens and got some poster board.
I carefully drew Diego and a princess. I got out some books for reference. I wet the paper a little so the magic marker would smear and give them even skin tones as opposed to magic marker lines. That made the whole drawing smear a bit. My princess face was a bit off. I forged ahead. Diego wasn't looking so hot either. I spent about 45 minutes drawing. My pictures didn't look very good. I carefully cut them out. Maybe they'd look better once they were on the pinata. I held them up. They didn't look better. I had drawn Cinderella in 20 years after botched plastic surgery and Diego with a skin disorder.
Plan C: OK, I had a Diego table cloth and a Princess tablecloth. I cut out a design from each and taped it on either side of the Nemo pinata. Good enough. Done. They get a Nemo pinata at the school party.
I'm sure there is enough chocolate in there to make up for character disappointment.
Pinatas are $20 each. I am not spending $80 on cardboard with tissue glued on it.
Plan B: Nemo pinatas were on clearance for $5 a piece. They will have one pinata at each party. I decided I could simply draw a princess and a Diego and glue them over Nemo. So I went to Walgreens and got some poster board.
I carefully drew Diego and a princess. I got out some books for reference. I wet the paper a little so the magic marker would smear and give them even skin tones as opposed to magic marker lines. That made the whole drawing smear a bit. My princess face was a bit off. I forged ahead. Diego wasn't looking so hot either. I spent about 45 minutes drawing. My pictures didn't look very good. I carefully cut them out. Maybe they'd look better once they were on the pinata. I held them up. They didn't look better. I had drawn Cinderella in 20 years after botched plastic surgery and Diego with a skin disorder.
Plan C: OK, I had a Diego table cloth and a Princess tablecloth. I cut out a design from each and taped it on either side of the Nemo pinata. Good enough. Done. They get a Nemo pinata at the school party.
I'm sure there is enough chocolate in there to make up for character disappointment.
Monday, February 2, 2009
I love Toy Story. I love the concept of Toy Story with its Velveteen Rabbit-esque anthropomorphications. Most of all I love Toy Story because Oliver loves Toy Story.
Oliver has loved Toy Story since he was about 18 months old. Holden had a few miscellaneous Toy Story themed toys about and Oliver claimed each one. Toy Story was the one movie that could calm Oliver down when things were rough.
As the years went by Oliver amassed quite a collection of Toy Story paraphernalia. He had all the basics, Buzz in assorted sizes, Woody in assorted sizes, along with the less coveted but still important Mr. Potato Head, Rex, Hamm, Jessie, the Prospector. Oliver slept in Buzz sheets with a Buzz blanket, wearing Buzz pajamas. He had Buzz underwear and Buzz bathing suits and towels. He went to sleep with his Buzz night light after reading his Buzz books. We listened to Woody's roundup on CD in the car.
One summer his interest seemed to wane. I was saddened at the thought of Buzz being in our lives less often. Buzz was a family member at this point.
Oliver decided he liked Curious George. For the first time received presents that were not Toy Story related. Within a few months he was done with Curious George.
Oliver reverted to bringing Toy Story characters with him on any adventure. Buzz, Woody and an Alien have been camping, they've been to Tahoe, they've been to Safari West. They've been on a plane, in cabs, in cars. The Alien went to the museum of Natural History in NYC and sat in a muddy wolf paw print in MA. Buzz has been swimming in pools and lakes. Woody has enjoyed Muir Woods.
We're back on Toy Story now and I couldn't be happier. I put new batteries in his Buzz action figures. Buzz talks once again. Oliver's face lit up when he pushed the buttons and Buzz worked again.
My face lit up too.
I hope Buzz stays with us for years to come.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Blog Material
The only problem with keeping a blog, or attempting to keep a blog, is that not much actually happens in my life. And as it turns out, blogging about nothing is not only challenging in and of itself, but its also not really that interesting to read.
See, I'm essentially a shut in. Its just too damn hard to leave the house with the lot that I have. Sure, they can be cute. For about 5 minutes. Then they are less cute. Since I can't control when those 5 minutes are and I can't control the proximity of one child's 5 minutes of cuteness to another child's, then I run a pretty high risk of having at least 3 children in the not so cute state.
I no longer care what other people think. I am so far past that. I find it surprising when people try to offer empathy:
" They always have fits in public, don't they?"
I don't care if people think I'm the worst person or parent on the planet based on my child's state. What I do care about is my own annoyance factor. Its ANNOYING to hear a child shrieking and screaming at the top of their lungs.
When Holden was little he would scream. He would tell me " I am so ANGRY!"
I would tell him he had to be angry more quietly.
With Oliver it was all about getting him to use words. So I'd get right in front of him, force him to make eye contact with me, and give him the words he needed:
I am MAD! I am so MAD!
Eventually he learned to yell the right words and not just scream. It was a big step.
Oliver would still revert to simply shrieking. He would throw himself down in front of me. I'd step over him. He'd get up and run ahead of me and throw himself down again, looking slightly confused. ( Mommy sure is dense. She didn't even see me on the ground).
Oliver still resorts to a shriek when things don't go his way. Sometimes I can thwart a predictable one by shrieking before he does. He always screams when he gets in the car.
" BUCKLE IN! I NEED BUCKLE IN!"
Apparently he needs to shatter my eardrums as well. So now, as we approach the car, I scream:
" BUCKLE IN!"
He laughs when I beat him to it.
But I'm not always in the mood for this game.
I think I used up all my patience on Oliver.
I have no problem ignoring the screaming complaints of Griffin and Laurel. You think you can scream and get what you want? You think my threshold is low enough that I will cave? Ha! Oliver came before you! You are so screwed.
Sometimes all four are whining and complaining and beating on one another and sobbing. I just look at them and think:
OK, this is too annoying for me to deal with. Eventually they'll tire themselves out.
However, bringing the lot of them to the grocery store or anywhere for that matter, isn't easy. I'm slowed down because there are four. I'm slowed down because someone is having a meltdown. I'm slowed down because every two minutes people stop me and say:
" Thats quite a crew you have there."
" Supermom".
" You have a lot of kids!"
" Are they all twins?" Um... what? Yes, they were just born in different years which is why some are taller.
People mean well and I know its a way of reaching out and offering some sort of vague emotional support and I appreciate that. But when one child is screaming and hitting a sibling, and someone else is having some sort of sit in protest and another one has disappeared and the final one has decided he needs to pee right here in the store...well, I don't really have time to talk about how I have 4 children. So I just smile and say Yes in the hopes that whatever they are asking will be sated with this response.
Then I forget to buy the milk or whatever it was that lured me out of the house to begin with. By the time we return home I am so thankful to have the walls that confine them. I am thankful for the gated backyard. I am thankful for my ability to live as a shut in. But I don't have much blog material.
See, I'm essentially a shut in. Its just too damn hard to leave the house with the lot that I have. Sure, they can be cute. For about 5 minutes. Then they are less cute. Since I can't control when those 5 minutes are and I can't control the proximity of one child's 5 minutes of cuteness to another child's, then I run a pretty high risk of having at least 3 children in the not so cute state.
I no longer care what other people think. I am so far past that. I find it surprising when people try to offer empathy:
" They always have fits in public, don't they?"
I don't care if people think I'm the worst person or parent on the planet based on my child's state. What I do care about is my own annoyance factor. Its ANNOYING to hear a child shrieking and screaming at the top of their lungs.
When Holden was little he would scream. He would tell me " I am so ANGRY!"
I would tell him he had to be angry more quietly.
With Oliver it was all about getting him to use words. So I'd get right in front of him, force him to make eye contact with me, and give him the words he needed:
I am MAD! I am so MAD!
Eventually he learned to yell the right words and not just scream. It was a big step.
Oliver would still revert to simply shrieking. He would throw himself down in front of me. I'd step over him. He'd get up and run ahead of me and throw himself down again, looking slightly confused. ( Mommy sure is dense. She didn't even see me on the ground).
Oliver still resorts to a shriek when things don't go his way. Sometimes I can thwart a predictable one by shrieking before he does. He always screams when he gets in the car.
" BUCKLE IN! I NEED BUCKLE IN!"
Apparently he needs to shatter my eardrums as well. So now, as we approach the car, I scream:
" BUCKLE IN!"
He laughs when I beat him to it.
But I'm not always in the mood for this game.
I think I used up all my patience on Oliver.
I have no problem ignoring the screaming complaints of Griffin and Laurel. You think you can scream and get what you want? You think my threshold is low enough that I will cave? Ha! Oliver came before you! You are so screwed.
Sometimes all four are whining and complaining and beating on one another and sobbing. I just look at them and think:
OK, this is too annoying for me to deal with. Eventually they'll tire themselves out.
However, bringing the lot of them to the grocery store or anywhere for that matter, isn't easy. I'm slowed down because there are four. I'm slowed down because someone is having a meltdown. I'm slowed down because every two minutes people stop me and say:
" Thats quite a crew you have there."
" Supermom".
" You have a lot of kids!"
" Are they all twins?" Um... what? Yes, they were just born in different years which is why some are taller.
People mean well and I know its a way of reaching out and offering some sort of vague emotional support and I appreciate that. But when one child is screaming and hitting a sibling, and someone else is having some sort of sit in protest and another one has disappeared and the final one has decided he needs to pee right here in the store...well, I don't really have time to talk about how I have 4 children. So I just smile and say Yes in the hopes that whatever they are asking will be sated with this response.
Then I forget to buy the milk or whatever it was that lured me out of the house to begin with. By the time we return home I am so thankful to have the walls that confine them. I am thankful for the gated backyard. I am thankful for my ability to live as a shut in. But I don't have much blog material.
Friday, January 23, 2009
A Glass of Wine
People keep asking me if its getting easier.
Its not.
Some aspects have improved. The kids are older and in a few instances that can help a situation. I change fewer diapers. I don't have to have as many readily available snacks and everyone can drink out of a cup. In that respect things are easier. But overall? Well, take Wednesday for example...
Griffin was running a fever. He woke up from a nap with a 101.6 fever. It was too late to cancel his speech pathologist. He was OK, but not terribly focused ( Thanks for understanding, Lisa!). Laurel was distracting.
Oliver's bus arrived just after Griffin's appointment ended. I needed to load everyone in the car to go get Holden. So I convinced everyone to wear shoes , and convinced everyone to wear raincoats, and gathered the umbrellas ( Diego, pink cats, Buzz Lightyear and dinosaurs ). Oliver gathered Buzz and Woody. Then I loaded them into the car. There was no parking so I had to park farther away than I would have liked.
No one wanted to hold the umbrellas over their heads. They just wanted to hold the umbrellas and scream that rain landed on their heads.
Slowly, slowly we made our way to the school. It was Popsicle day. I loathe Popsicle day. We gathered Holden who was busy dropping his coat into the mud. Holden saw me and immediately began clamoring for Popsicles. I had planned on getting Popsicles for everyone, but at this point the line was very long. Oliver doesn't do well with lines. Let alone very long ones. There is no convincing him that he will ever get a Popsicle if he does not one instantly. So... the inevitable... Oliver ran to the front of the line and he grabbed a Popsicle, demanding that someone open it.
The parent volunteer looked aghast and looked around to see who was in charge of this troglodyte child. Oliver threw the Popsicle on the ground. I picked it up and returned it ( it was in a wrapper). I didn't offer any explanations to the parent volunteer. Oliver was so mad he threw Buzz. The ultimate expression of anger ( How would you like it if I threw Buzz???) I grabbed Oliver.
NO! You do NOT throw! You WAIT your turn! When you grab and run to the front of the line you get NO Popsicle. When you scream you get NO Popsicle."
Oliver was mad. He shrieked and wailed and threw himself on the ground and refused to get up. Holden helpfully ran off to go talk to some friends. Laurel and Griffin insisted on holding my hands and screamed whenever I'd let go. But I had to let go to grab Oliver to drag him back to the car. So Griffin and Laurel screamed too.
Finally we made it to the car. Now we were off to the pediatrician for Holden's annual school physical and Oliver's belated 5 year check up.
We arrived in the waiting room and everyone began squabbling over who got to ride the wooden camel and who got what color crayon and who sat in which seat. So Oliver threw all the crayons on the floor and Holden rode the camel rocking horse which is clearly meant for much younger children. Griffin and Laurel screamed.
The nurse came out. She thought it would be a great idea to do these appointments piece meal. First we'd go back and forth with Holden and Oliver getting blood pressure and weight and measurements, then we'd eventually see the Dr. She also thought the receptionists could keep an eye on the children that were not currently involved. Destined to fail.
No way was Oliver either going somewhere without me or waiting somewhere without me. No way were Griffin or Laurel staying in a waiting room without me. The nurse that was going to play with them didn't seem like he had much to offer as far as they were concerned.
So everyone went back to the exam room.
Holden got weighed and measured first. Oliver was inspired by this and took off his shoes and claimed it was his turn. The nurse did not seem to realize that this was her one and only chance. She finished her paper work. I was shocked to see that Oliver still wanted his turn.
OK, she said. Lets put down Buzz and Woody.
Thats not I good idea , I volunteered.
She didn't listen.
Oliver screamed. He shrieked. He yelled. He doubled over in agony. He screamed like a wounded animal. Tears flowed.
The nurse let him keep Buzz and Woody. I doubt they would really affect his weight so much that they would disrupt his growth chart. I'm glad, and surprised, that she relented. People usually don't. They like to help " teach a lesson". In my opinion half of these " lessons" are unnecessary and create greater headaches than they are worth.
At this point Oliver was still distraught so although the nurse was able to get his weight she could not get his height.
Then we needed to confer with the Dr prior to the rest of the exam. So we were to wait in her office. She has a fun mirror in there.
Laurel needed to lick the fun mirror. Griffin thought that looked like fun. He wanted to lick the fun mirror. Laurel got mad. It was her mirror.
NO! Laurel screamed.
NO NO NO!!! Laurel screamed at the top of her lungs. ITS MINE!
GRIFFIN IS PUSHING ME! ACK!
" Noooooo, " Griffin whined, sobbing and moaning, "My turn! My turn, Laurel!" aheh aheh He sobbed.
Laurel became irate. She began shrieking and sobbing with her mouth on the mirror, smearing it with snot and tears.
Oliver giggled and decided this would be a great time to get in Griffins face and yell " TIME TO GO TO TAHOE!"
Meanwhile the Dr examined Holden and tried to ask me questions over the mayhem.
She thought it might be better to have the others in another room while she examined Oliver . She called in the nurses. Several of them. I told Holden to go to the waiting room and to help take care of Laurel and Griffin. Griffin was willing to go as long as Holden was going. Laurel was staying with me. She screamed so loud the windows reverberated. The nurses looked at her uneasily. One bent down to try to snatch her but she quickly went limp. She knows how to turn herself into a greased squirrel when need be so there was no catching her. She wriggled and writhed. We decided to try having her in the room. Two is better than four.
The nurses gave everyone stickers. Laurel got princess, Griffin and Oliver got Thomas. Holden picked a Dalmatian sticker.
Holden and Griffin left to play with nurses.
Laurel could not find her sticker. She became frantic. Someone got her a new sticker.
The Dr. joined us. Oliver drew on the waxed paper mat on the exam table. The Dr was impressed with Oliver's writing skills ( we all are).
She asked questions. I answered them. Laurel vied for attention. The Dr listened to Oliver's heart. She let Oliver listen too. I was surprised that he would listen, mostly because I would never have guessed that he'd be OK with having a stethoscope in his ears. But he listened. She tried to put a blood pressure cuff on him. Oliver was not interested in having a blood pressure cuff. He tried to take it off. He screamed, he yelled. I held him down. But he writhed and fussed and screamed so much it was impossible to get any sort of reading. Meanwhile Laurel rubbed her stuffed animal cat on the garbage can. The Dr wanted Oliver to take his shirt off in preparation for his shots. This wasn't going to go over well. I waited until the last possible second. We had one of the nurses escort Laurel out while Oliver got his four shots. Laurel was OK with it because I told her to go get Holden.
Oliver was not OK. He wanted his shirt. He did not want alcohol wiped on his skin. I squeezed him tight as he screamed. We switched sides fast. He screamed more. I felt horrible. Good thing I have strong arms. We were done. Oliver was distraught. He gulped down water. He continued to cry. We joined the others in the waiting room where they'd been appeased with TV, but they were still fighting over riding the wooden camel. Laurel spied her missing princess sticker on the back of Oliver's knee.
Laurel screamed.
OLIVER TOOK IT MY PRINCESS STICKER!
Oliver had no idea what was happening. He didn't know a grubby princess sticker had adhered itself to the back of his jeans. He didn't like Laurel screaming. So he screamed. Holden took the sticker off of Oliver and gave it to Laurel. But she was still mad.
Laurel ran to the basket of stickers to attempt to help herself to all of the remaining princess stickers. Griffin was inspired to attempt to score additional Thomas stickers. No one wanted their raincoats back on. Everyone needed to run to the waiting room bathroom to get urine cups of water.
The silence we left in our wake was noticeable to all. All sound exited with us and the relief of the Doctors and nurses was almost audible.
There was a fight over whose turn was first at the water and germ fountain in the hallway. Then there was fighting over the elevator buttons. Fortunately the ceiling in the elevator is mirrored and that provides plenty of entertainment.
Finally we made it back to the parking lot, into the car, and we headed home through rush hour traffic. I took the back way home but it still took a good 45 minutes before we finally made it home.
Scrambled eggs for dinner.
And no, its not really any easier. I generally am OK with the constant chaos. I'm used to it. I would even venture to say that its all worth it. But its not easy.
Just thinking about it has inspired me to pour myself a glass of wine.
Its not.
Some aspects have improved. The kids are older and in a few instances that can help a situation. I change fewer diapers. I don't have to have as many readily available snacks and everyone can drink out of a cup. In that respect things are easier. But overall? Well, take Wednesday for example...
Griffin was running a fever. He woke up from a nap with a 101.6 fever. It was too late to cancel his speech pathologist. He was OK, but not terribly focused ( Thanks for understanding, Lisa!). Laurel was distracting.
Oliver's bus arrived just after Griffin's appointment ended. I needed to load everyone in the car to go get Holden. So I convinced everyone to wear shoes , and convinced everyone to wear raincoats, and gathered the umbrellas ( Diego, pink cats, Buzz Lightyear and dinosaurs ). Oliver gathered Buzz and Woody. Then I loaded them into the car. There was no parking so I had to park farther away than I would have liked.
No one wanted to hold the umbrellas over their heads. They just wanted to hold the umbrellas and scream that rain landed on their heads.
Slowly, slowly we made our way to the school. It was Popsicle day. I loathe Popsicle day. We gathered Holden who was busy dropping his coat into the mud. Holden saw me and immediately began clamoring for Popsicles. I had planned on getting Popsicles for everyone, but at this point the line was very long. Oliver doesn't do well with lines. Let alone very long ones. There is no convincing him that he will ever get a Popsicle if he does not one instantly. So... the inevitable... Oliver ran to the front of the line and he grabbed a Popsicle, demanding that someone open it.
The parent volunteer looked aghast and looked around to see who was in charge of this troglodyte child. Oliver threw the Popsicle on the ground. I picked it up and returned it ( it was in a wrapper). I didn't offer any explanations to the parent volunteer. Oliver was so mad he threw Buzz. The ultimate expression of anger ( How would you like it if I threw Buzz???) I grabbed Oliver.
NO! You do NOT throw! You WAIT your turn! When you grab and run to the front of the line you get NO Popsicle. When you scream you get NO Popsicle."
Oliver was mad. He shrieked and wailed and threw himself on the ground and refused to get up. Holden helpfully ran off to go talk to some friends. Laurel and Griffin insisted on holding my hands and screamed whenever I'd let go. But I had to let go to grab Oliver to drag him back to the car. So Griffin and Laurel screamed too.
Finally we made it to the car. Now we were off to the pediatrician for Holden's annual school physical and Oliver's belated 5 year check up.
We arrived in the waiting room and everyone began squabbling over who got to ride the wooden camel and who got what color crayon and who sat in which seat. So Oliver threw all the crayons on the floor and Holden rode the camel rocking horse which is clearly meant for much younger children. Griffin and Laurel screamed.
The nurse came out. She thought it would be a great idea to do these appointments piece meal. First we'd go back and forth with Holden and Oliver getting blood pressure and weight and measurements, then we'd eventually see the Dr. She also thought the receptionists could keep an eye on the children that were not currently involved. Destined to fail.
No way was Oliver either going somewhere without me or waiting somewhere without me. No way were Griffin or Laurel staying in a waiting room without me. The nurse that was going to play with them didn't seem like he had much to offer as far as they were concerned.
So everyone went back to the exam room.
Holden got weighed and measured first. Oliver was inspired by this and took off his shoes and claimed it was his turn. The nurse did not seem to realize that this was her one and only chance. She finished her paper work. I was shocked to see that Oliver still wanted his turn.
OK, she said. Lets put down Buzz and Woody.
Thats not I good idea , I volunteered.
She didn't listen.
Oliver screamed. He shrieked. He yelled. He doubled over in agony. He screamed like a wounded animal. Tears flowed.
The nurse let him keep Buzz and Woody. I doubt they would really affect his weight so much that they would disrupt his growth chart. I'm glad, and surprised, that she relented. People usually don't. They like to help " teach a lesson". In my opinion half of these " lessons" are unnecessary and create greater headaches than they are worth.
At this point Oliver was still distraught so although the nurse was able to get his weight she could not get his height.
Then we needed to confer with the Dr prior to the rest of the exam. So we were to wait in her office. She has a fun mirror in there.
Laurel needed to lick the fun mirror. Griffin thought that looked like fun. He wanted to lick the fun mirror. Laurel got mad. It was her mirror.
NO! Laurel screamed.
NO NO NO!!! Laurel screamed at the top of her lungs. ITS MINE!
GRIFFIN IS PUSHING ME! ACK!
" Noooooo, " Griffin whined, sobbing and moaning, "My turn! My turn, Laurel!" aheh aheh He sobbed.
Laurel became irate. She began shrieking and sobbing with her mouth on the mirror, smearing it with snot and tears.
Oliver giggled and decided this would be a great time to get in Griffins face and yell " TIME TO GO TO TAHOE!"
Meanwhile the Dr examined Holden and tried to ask me questions over the mayhem.
She thought it might be better to have the others in another room while she examined Oliver . She called in the nurses. Several of them. I told Holden to go to the waiting room and to help take care of Laurel and Griffin. Griffin was willing to go as long as Holden was going. Laurel was staying with me. She screamed so loud the windows reverberated. The nurses looked at her uneasily. One bent down to try to snatch her but she quickly went limp. She knows how to turn herself into a greased squirrel when need be so there was no catching her. She wriggled and writhed. We decided to try having her in the room. Two is better than four.
The nurses gave everyone stickers. Laurel got princess, Griffin and Oliver got Thomas. Holden picked a Dalmatian sticker.
Holden and Griffin left to play with nurses.
Laurel could not find her sticker. She became frantic. Someone got her a new sticker.
The Dr. joined us. Oliver drew on the waxed paper mat on the exam table. The Dr was impressed with Oliver's writing skills ( we all are).
She asked questions. I answered them. Laurel vied for attention. The Dr listened to Oliver's heart. She let Oliver listen too. I was surprised that he would listen, mostly because I would never have guessed that he'd be OK with having a stethoscope in his ears. But he listened. She tried to put a blood pressure cuff on him. Oliver was not interested in having a blood pressure cuff. He tried to take it off. He screamed, he yelled. I held him down. But he writhed and fussed and screamed so much it was impossible to get any sort of reading. Meanwhile Laurel rubbed her stuffed animal cat on the garbage can. The Dr wanted Oliver to take his shirt off in preparation for his shots. This wasn't going to go over well. I waited until the last possible second. We had one of the nurses escort Laurel out while Oliver got his four shots. Laurel was OK with it because I told her to go get Holden.
Oliver was not OK. He wanted his shirt. He did not want alcohol wiped on his skin. I squeezed him tight as he screamed. We switched sides fast. He screamed more. I felt horrible. Good thing I have strong arms. We were done. Oliver was distraught. He gulped down water. He continued to cry. We joined the others in the waiting room where they'd been appeased with TV, but they were still fighting over riding the wooden camel. Laurel spied her missing princess sticker on the back of Oliver's knee.
Laurel screamed.
OLIVER TOOK IT MY PRINCESS STICKER!
Oliver had no idea what was happening. He didn't know a grubby princess sticker had adhered itself to the back of his jeans. He didn't like Laurel screaming. So he screamed. Holden took the sticker off of Oliver and gave it to Laurel. But she was still mad.
Laurel ran to the basket of stickers to attempt to help herself to all of the remaining princess stickers. Griffin was inspired to attempt to score additional Thomas stickers. No one wanted their raincoats back on. Everyone needed to run to the waiting room bathroom to get urine cups of water.
The silence we left in our wake was noticeable to all. All sound exited with us and the relief of the Doctors and nurses was almost audible.
There was a fight over whose turn was first at the water and germ fountain in the hallway. Then there was fighting over the elevator buttons. Fortunately the ceiling in the elevator is mirrored and that provides plenty of entertainment.
Finally we made it back to the parking lot, into the car, and we headed home through rush hour traffic. I took the back way home but it still took a good 45 minutes before we finally made it home.
Scrambled eggs for dinner.
And no, its not really any easier. I generally am OK with the constant chaos. I'm used to it. I would even venture to say that its all worth it. But its not easy.
Just thinking about it has inspired me to pour myself a glass of wine.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
The Great Sock Mystery
I don't really believe in the whole mystery which enshrouds the age old where did the other sock go? Why isn't it in the dryer? questions. In our household there is always a wadded up sock shoved behind a sofa or inside a DVD case. Thats normal for us.
What I don't understand is the sock in the car phenomenon. How do we end up with one dirty sock in the car? Does someone take off their shoes and socks, drop one dirty sock on the floor, put one sock back on and then put their shoes back on? All without my noticing? Assuming that is the reason behind the lone sock in the car that leads right to the question.
Why? Why would someone do that?
What I don't understand is the sock in the car phenomenon. How do we end up with one dirty sock in the car? Does someone take off their shoes and socks, drop one dirty sock on the floor, put one sock back on and then put their shoes back on? All without my noticing? Assuming that is the reason behind the lone sock in the car that leads right to the question.
Why? Why would someone do that?
The Silence
At the moment I am loving the silence. Four children are in three schools and all I hear is silence. There is so much I should and could be doing but I have to stop and listen to the silence.
The incessant sound of fighting and squabbling and squealing and screeching and giggling and crashing and stomping and skipping is white noise to me. I've grown accustomed to it. Half the time I don't even hear it until it passes through that final threshold of tolerance. Then I break.
" STOP IT!!!!"
But most of the time I don't really hear it. Its self preservation. Its also much easier to tune in and out. I like to think of it as listening to the radio or watching a movie. I have to remove myself a little to stay sane amidst the incessant chaos.
The other night the moon was huge and bright and brilliant. Rather than appreciate the moon as such the children fought over the moon.
" Thats my moon". Laurel stated with pride.
"NO!" cried Griffin, instantly perturbed by the idea that Laurel had claimed the moon. " Thats my moon!"
It was all downhill from there.
So even though there are 10,000 things I need to be doing and could be doing, I'm opting to sit here for a minute and appreciate the silence. In a few hours my head will be ringing again.
The incessant sound of fighting and squabbling and squealing and screeching and giggling and crashing and stomping and skipping is white noise to me. I've grown accustomed to it. Half the time I don't even hear it until it passes through that final threshold of tolerance. Then I break.
" STOP IT!!!!"
But most of the time I don't really hear it. Its self preservation. Its also much easier to tune in and out. I like to think of it as listening to the radio or watching a movie. I have to remove myself a little to stay sane amidst the incessant chaos.
The other night the moon was huge and bright and brilliant. Rather than appreciate the moon as such the children fought over the moon.
" Thats my moon". Laurel stated with pride.
"NO!" cried Griffin, instantly perturbed by the idea that Laurel had claimed the moon. " Thats my moon!"
It was all downhill from there.
So even though there are 10,000 things I need to be doing and could be doing, I'm opting to sit here for a minute and appreciate the silence. In a few hours my head will be ringing again.
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