Jerry and I like to joke that we have Sour Patch Kids, at first they are nothing but squeeze your eyes shut and pucker your mouth sour. Then, if you can stick it out with them for a bit they get sweet with a little time.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Monday, June 16, 2014
The Kingdom of Whine
Now that summer is in full swing we are all trying to settle into the new normal routine. Which means the wheels are coming off a bit from our finely tuned (ha!) machine. The kids are totally confused because some rules have been completely and gleefully abandoned (bed on time? no way - who cares!), and others have been reinforced and clamped down even more (TV, iPhones, or iPad in the afternoon? no way - the sun is shining! get thee and your kin outside).
In the wake of all the confusion over rules there has been lots of whining and complaining and pushing of limits to see who can get me to crack first. They're getting close.
In the wake of all the confusion over rules there has been lots of whining and complaining and pushing of limits to see who can get me to crack first. They're getting close.
Friday, June 13, 2014
7 QT's - it's Friday
1. It's summer. The boys are outside all the time now and they are dog tired at night. I love it. I actually have kids that will sleep past 6am now. The true test is this weekend, when I will inevitably be woken up by someone because the sleep gods do not love me anymore. I'm not sure who it will be, but I can guess the reason...
-Dave will pop his bright eyes open and be ready for the day because he's just like his Dad. I'm so happy those genes got passed along (sarcasm included).
-Frank it will not be unless something is terribly amiss in his little world. He is my sleeper and likes to lounge in bed just like his Mama. I'm so happy those genes got passed slong (sarcasm no where to be seen).
-Stan will poop. Every single morning same story and same absolutely rude awakening.
-George is the only one alone in his bedroom and he would like some company when his peepers are open. So he calls his minions in for some attention. Loudly.
-Dave will pop his bright eyes open and be ready for the day because he's just like his Dad. I'm so happy those genes got passed along (sarcasm included).
-Frank it will not be unless something is terribly amiss in his little world. He is my sleeper and likes to lounge in bed just like his Mama. I'm so happy those genes got passed slong (sarcasm no where to be seen).
-Stan will poop. Every single morning same story and same absolutely rude awakening.
-George is the only one alone in his bedroom and he would like some company when his peepers are open. So he calls his minions in for some attention. Loudly.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Sometimes I just don't even know
I was hosting Book Club (reality check: Wine Club) a couple weeks ago and as I was prepping in the kitchen doing some intense chopping fueled by a Kirkland brand margarita I heard Frank scream. This scenario is not abnormal in my house in any way on any evening be it the intense chopping rushing to get dinner on the table, the margarita, or the screaming. I have finely tuned my Mom Ears to pick up the screams I need to listen to and those I need to ignore and pore a teensy bit more margarita in my glass. This was one I needed to heed, in double time.
I drop the chef knife and book it to the toy room to see Frank screaming and crying in obvious distress. He is too distraught to even tell me what happened. I spy Dave sitting quietly, too quietly, too still, on the window seat avoiding my eagle eye glare. I ask him with all the accusation I can muster in my voice what happened to Frank. Dave gives me the expected puzzled look and slow head shake indicating he has no idea why his brother is screaming like he'd like to meet his maker instead of go on another minute. I narrow my eyes and ask again but this time with a threat - David Christopher you better tell me what happened to your brother because he will eventually stop crying and when he tells me what happened it will be much worse if I hear it from him. I see Dave size up Frank (who is wrapped into my maxi skirt by this time) mentally calculate how long it might take Frank to stop crying and decide if he has time to pack a bag and find alternate accommodations. The realization hits him that he either has to crash through the window and run for it, or own up.
Here's how the conversation went down.
D: Frank asked me to kick him in the weiner.
M: What?
D: Frank asked me to kick him in the weiner.
M: ... ... ... ...
Usually I've got the punishment at the ready to be meted out to the correct offender, but this one caught me completely off guard. Then Jerry walks into the situation...
J (stern Jerry - ready to support me in whatever insanity I'm trying to referee): Boys, what's going on?
D: (blank look, not wanting to admit this again)
F: (down to sniffling, still cowering in my skirt, but looking up at me to see if he's in trouble too)
M: Frank told Dave to kick him in the weiner.
J: (quietly dies laughing behind my back)
M: You're both stupid. I'm going back to the kitchen.
^^^ helping move worms into the right place in Grandma's garden
I drop the chef knife and book it to the toy room to see Frank screaming and crying in obvious distress. He is too distraught to even tell me what happened. I spy Dave sitting quietly, too quietly, too still, on the window seat avoiding my eagle eye glare. I ask him with all the accusation I can muster in my voice what happened to Frank. Dave gives me the expected puzzled look and slow head shake indicating he has no idea why his brother is screaming like he'd like to meet his maker instead of go on another minute. I narrow my eyes and ask again but this time with a threat - David Christopher you better tell me what happened to your brother because he will eventually stop crying and when he tells me what happened it will be much worse if I hear it from him. I see Dave size up Frank (who is wrapped into my maxi skirt by this time) mentally calculate how long it might take Frank to stop crying and decide if he has time to pack a bag and find alternate accommodations. The realization hits him that he either has to crash through the window and run for it, or own up.
Here's how the conversation went down.
D: Frank asked me to kick him in the weiner.
M: What?
D: Frank asked me to kick him in the weiner.
M: ... ... ... ...
Usually I've got the punishment at the ready to be meted out to the correct offender, but this one caught me completely off guard. Then Jerry walks into the situation...
J (stern Jerry - ready to support me in whatever insanity I'm trying to referee): Boys, what's going on?
D: (blank look, not wanting to admit this again)
F: (down to sniffling, still cowering in my skirt, but looking up at me to see if he's in trouble too)
M: Frank told Dave to kick him in the weiner.
J: (quietly dies laughing behind my back)
M: You're both stupid. I'm going back to the kitchen.
Friday, January 17, 2014
For Posterity... 7 QTs of random
1) The set-up: Walking home with Dave and Frank last night as we were carrying the sled back from the park. We were discussing how hard it would be to carry four elephants back...
Dave: Carrying two elephants would be hard too.
Me: Yep, it would be really heavy.
Dave: Carrying a half elephant would be even harder. Because of all the dripping blood and stuff.
Me: ... ... ...
2) We are in the midst of trying to potty train Stan. Holy cow I hate potty training. I wish we could fast forward two weeks when I'm going to love being a mom who buys diapers for only one child at Target, but for now it's the pits. I'm obsessed with asking if he needs to use the bathroom and we have done a lot of laundry. I've created a monster who knows how to manipulatively urinate and poop to get treats. What that kid won't do for a jelly bean. Alas, I think he's getting it though, and that is enough of that tirade.
3) It's been a while (again) since I updated. Excuses - none. I got nothing. I will try to be better. There are so many crazy things that the boys do and I'm trying to tuck them away in my brain to write about later so I have some sort of catalogue of horrors I can show them when they're all grown up but I can't remember any of them. My brain is a seive.
4) Christmas this year was a wash. Everyone in the house (minus me!) got a stomach virus. It all started at our Christmas party on December 21. The kids were running wild, the wine and beer were flowing so parents didn't really care about their feral children and then one of the older kids came up and told me someone puked in the basement. Lovely. Sure enough, it was Frank and while he made it to the bathroom, he did not make it to the toilet. Imagine the bathroom scene from "Trainspotting", now multiply the ick factor by 4.7 and you are in the realm of what I encountered down there. Needless to say, parents started grabbing their kids and high-tailing it out of our infected house faster than I could throw jars of peanut butter at them (more on that next). Jerry and I couldn't help but think back to our Christmas parties of long ago when they would last until the wee hours and end with people sleeping in random corners of the house too drunk to make it home. Now, we cleared the place out by 9 pm and were in bed with everything cleaned up by 10 pm waiting for the next puking child to strike.
The contagion spread quickly and one by one everyone fell to the plague. Except, of course, me. Which, as Dave said, is because I'm the leader of the family and take care of everyone. Jerry who was sitting nearby piped in with "She's only 51% boss Dave!"
We half-heartedly opened gifts on Christmas Day and stayed in lock-down to try and prevent the spread of our germs. We still managed to get three of four grandparents sick. We emerged from the illness around New Year's Day and I swore to myself that Christmas would be more fun in 2014.
5) Remember George's reaction to peanut butter? Yeah, so he is allergic to peanuts. Like the full on, we have to carry epi pens around with him kind of peanut allergy. I am amazed at all the things in our house that have peanuts, traces of peanut, or are manufactured in a place where peanuts were at some point. We did a major clean out of our cupboards and decided we would give away all our peanut goods as door prizes at the Christmas party. Because I just bought six 2-quart jars of Skippy creamy from Costco we had a lot to hand out.
Stan is a peanut butter addict and is taking it pretty hard. He hasn't come around to soy nut butter, sunflower butter, or almond butter. Jerry said that our decision to get rid of peanut butter (Stan's main source of nutrtion at this point) is like Sophie's Choice. We either have the peanut butter around and Stan survives but George could die of anaphylaxis, or we get rid of it and keep George safe and watch Stan wither away to nothing and die of malnutrtion. George is pretty cute so we opted for peanut butter out at this point. But we still love Stan and keep sneaking almond butter onto his bread depite loud and cantankerous complaints.
6) I'm going to Chicago this weekend with my cousins and the most important thing that I'm packing is Unisom. Nothing says party weekend with the girls than Unisom. Man I can't wait to sleep past 6:17 am.
7) The boys are thoroughly enjoying winter and haven't been put off by the extreme cold we've had. We always said we wanted to raise boys that were comfortable playing outside in any weather, so far I think we can check that box.
Dave: Carrying two elephants would be hard too.
Me: Yep, it would be really heavy.
Dave: Carrying a half elephant would be even harder. Because of all the dripping blood and stuff.
Me: ... ... ...
2) We are in the midst of trying to potty train Stan. Holy cow I hate potty training. I wish we could fast forward two weeks when I'm going to love being a mom who buys diapers for only one child at Target, but for now it's the pits. I'm obsessed with asking if he needs to use the bathroom and we have done a lot of laundry. I've created a monster who knows how to manipulatively urinate and poop to get treats. What that kid won't do for a jelly bean. Alas, I think he's getting it though, and that is enough of that tirade.
3) It's been a while (again) since I updated. Excuses - none. I got nothing. I will try to be better. There are so many crazy things that the boys do and I'm trying to tuck them away in my brain to write about later so I have some sort of catalogue of horrors I can show them when they're all grown up but I can't remember any of them. My brain is a seive.
4) Christmas this year was a wash. Everyone in the house (minus me!) got a stomach virus. It all started at our Christmas party on December 21. The kids were running wild, the wine and beer were flowing so parents didn't really care about their feral children and then one of the older kids came up and told me someone puked in the basement. Lovely. Sure enough, it was Frank and while he made it to the bathroom, he did not make it to the toilet. Imagine the bathroom scene from "Trainspotting", now multiply the ick factor by 4.7 and you are in the realm of what I encountered down there. Needless to say, parents started grabbing their kids and high-tailing it out of our infected house faster than I could throw jars of peanut butter at them (more on that next). Jerry and I couldn't help but think back to our Christmas parties of long ago when they would last until the wee hours and end with people sleeping in random corners of the house too drunk to make it home. Now, we cleared the place out by 9 pm and were in bed with everything cleaned up by 10 pm waiting for the next puking child to strike.
The contagion spread quickly and one by one everyone fell to the plague. Except, of course, me. Which, as Dave said, is because I'm the leader of the family and take care of everyone. Jerry who was sitting nearby piped in with "She's only 51% boss Dave!"
We half-heartedly opened gifts on Christmas Day and stayed in lock-down to try and prevent the spread of our germs. We still managed to get three of four grandparents sick. We emerged from the illness around New Year's Day and I swore to myself that Christmas would be more fun in 2014.
5) Remember George's reaction to peanut butter? Yeah, so he is allergic to peanuts. Like the full on, we have to carry epi pens around with him kind of peanut allergy. I am amazed at all the things in our house that have peanuts, traces of peanut, or are manufactured in a place where peanuts were at some point. We did a major clean out of our cupboards and decided we would give away all our peanut goods as door prizes at the Christmas party. Because I just bought six 2-quart jars of Skippy creamy from Costco we had a lot to hand out.
Stan is a peanut butter addict and is taking it pretty hard. He hasn't come around to soy nut butter, sunflower butter, or almond butter. Jerry said that our decision to get rid of peanut butter (Stan's main source of nutrtion at this point) is like Sophie's Choice. We either have the peanut butter around and Stan survives but George could die of anaphylaxis, or we get rid of it and keep George safe and watch Stan wither away to nothing and die of malnutrtion. George is pretty cute so we opted for peanut butter out at this point. But we still love Stan and keep sneaking almond butter onto his bread depite loud and cantankerous complaints.
6) I'm going to Chicago this weekend with my cousins and the most important thing that I'm packing is Unisom. Nothing says party weekend with the girls than Unisom. Man I can't wait to sleep past 6:17 am.
7) The boys are thoroughly enjoying winter and haven't been put off by the extreme cold we've had. We always said we wanted to raise boys that were comfortable playing outside in any weather, so far I think we can check that box.
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