We have this crazy game called "Read My Lips" that we enjoy playing. I'm sure you can deduce from the title what the game is about. The kids think it's hilarious and love to play it all day long with me. Bennett will come up to me at random points in the day and say, "Mommy, read my yips" and then he normally mouths the exact same thing every time "I wuv woo". It stretches my lip reading ability when I have to decode his three year old language skills and turn them into 'real words'. It's hard enough to understand him sometimes when he speaks aLOUD (which he does all the time - nonstop). Now try reading lips of someone who doesn't really speak English properly. The game stops being fun at that point, at least for me. He thinks its hilarious, of course.
Often, while we're driving, the boys will be in the backseat playing this lovely game together. It's fine by me, because then the noise level in the van decreases dramatically! But the funny thing is how they play. First, I must explain their obsession with role playing. My children are forever Batman and Robin. Gavin being Batman, a.k.a, Bruce and Bennett always wanting to be Robin, a.k.a, Dick. They even go so far as to call each other by their alter ego names out in public. So, they're in the backseat saying things like, "Dick, hey Dick, read my lips: I love Batman". Then Bennett decides to join in the game and plays along dutifully be responding, "Bruce, hey Bruce, read my yips: I love Robin". You'd think they would change what they 'love' every once in a while - but no, consistency is the name of the game here.
Oh how I love Bruce and Dick! Bennett has informed me though, that sometimes he is called Richard, because Dick is just a nick-name for Richard. So, at any given point in the day he could be Richard, Dick or Bennett. Gavin is normally Bruce Wayne, but can suddenly and without notice, change into Clark Kent. This really helps my perpetual state of confusion. I never know who to call or what to call them. By the time I finally get them to respond, I have forgotten what it was I needed Bruce or Dick to do. So are the trials of my day....
I just got done tucking in my 3 year old, Bennett. How fun that is! Every night, when I pray for him, I thank God for giving me such a special gift in Bennett. Then I go on to pray for all the typical things like monsters and shadows and yucky noises. I always thank God that He's teaching Bennett to trust Him at such a young age. You know, when you pray, or even talk to your kids for that matter, you never know how much they pick up or if they are even listening. Well, I found out tonite...
A while after I left his room, I heard him in there talking. He was alone in there, so I was curious as to who he was talking to. I heard all kinds of names: Bapchie (his great-grandma), Robert (a friend who is moving to Austrailia), Nana, Vama, Vampa (Grandma & Grandpa). I decided to poke my head in and ask him if he was calling me. He said "No". I said, "Well, I heard you talking. Did you need anything?" He answered, "I was just danking Dod (God) that he made me your pe-hal (special) present." :) My heart melted instantly! Then he went on to say that he was thanking God for all those people he was listing. I just love moments like that. I think I'll go bask in that for the next few hours. :)
Well, we're off to a good start on the socialization scence in the new neighborhood. In two months, so far we've only met 1 neighbor. I even made a batch of cookies to bring her. However, everyday I walked over to her house to bring them to her, she wasn't home. And I didn't feel it was polite to just leave them on her door step. So, I kept waiting until I saw her car at home to bring them to her. I felt kinda like a stalker. Anyways, to make a long story short. All those delicious cookies sitting around my house and no one would ever know if I just didn't give her all of them. So I started taking a few here and there to munch on. Boy am I glad she finally came home. She ended up with all of 4 cookies. How pathetic am I?!? Nice neighbor. Did I mention I'm also a cookie monster?
So, tonite another neighbor decides it would be a nice time to drop in on us and introduce themselves. How incredibly sweet and nice they were. I just feel bad for the scene they walked into. They had no way of knowing that my boys wanted to be indians today. So, they were dressed up as indians, including the whole face make-up and feather indian hat thing. I think Bennett had his pants on, but I can't be sure. And since we've been studying the Rain Forest and the Amazon River in geography, they decided to be indians that lived in the rain forest. That meant they had to build houses in trees. What, in our house could possibly substitute for a tree? Ah yes, the stairway. So, as these sweet, unsuspecting people entered my house, they are welcomed by my two make-up clad, crazy-dressing, tree-house living children whose blankets, pillows and stuffed animals liter the entire stairway. They then think the neighbors came by to watch them jump off their "tree house", so they put on quite the show.
There is no second chance now. Their opinions are already completely formed about me and my clan. I can only work on damage control from here on out. I better make them a really big batch of cookies and bring them over right away!!
The boys and Chuck and I were all in the boys' room playing Transformers tonight having a lovely time. We were looking through the pamphlet that comes with the toy that shows all the other Transformers there are that we can spend our money on. Then we noticed that we had yet to read the intriguing story they also include in the pamphlet. What an oversight! We always read the story right away - how could we have missed this one! Well, we immediately got into formation to read the nail biting story. That's when it all happend....
As I go to lay in the ever so comfy position on the floor squeezed between the bunk bed ladder and Bennett, I begin to realize there is not enough space for Gavin to cram himself in (as he is currently doing). So, Bennett starts pushing him and inadvertantly pushing on me as well as I'm being pushed against the ladder. I think you can deduce that my patience level and mood are both declining rather quickly. But once I get a little body laying across my face I officially loose it. That is because I still have my glasses on and they have just tried to take on a new form.
I push Bennett off of me a little too quickly and vent my frustration a little too loudly and the poor kid ends up in tears. I leave the room to tend to my glasses and end up just around the corner. I hear Chuck and Bennett talking and its the sweetest thing. Of course Bennett felt that I was mad at him, so I knew I was going to have to go back and apologize, but Chuck was trying to explain to him why Mommy got so frustrated. Then Bennett tells Chuck, "But I like Mommy. I tink Mommy boo-ti-ful!". I got tears in my eyes and realized a pair of glasses are nothing compared to the love of my child.
Bennett comes around the corner to find me sitting there and tells me what he just told his Daddy and we have a wonderful time talking and loving on each other. We both apologized for how our actions caused each other hurt and promised to look out for each other's glasses (cuz he said the same thing happens to his sunglasses). :)
To think my son thinks I'm boo-ti-ful....wow...what a compliment!
Chloe and I were out running all kinds of errands yesterday in order to try to stay out of Chuck and the boys' way as they were "assembling" ( I use the term loosely ) a new swing set outside. I figured it's about time I start teaching Chloe the finer points of shopping.
So, we went to the grocery store. Of course she decides that this would be a good time to start "talking" at the top of her lungs. So, now I have to marathon shop (get my whole weeks worth of groceries in less than 15 minutes) so I don't disturb the rest of the patrons at this fine establishment.
The first place I go is to the produce section. Being the ever courteous shopper, I move my shopping cart (with Chloe buckled in the front seat), over to the side so I don't take up the whole isle. However, I failed to notice that I parked her right next to the apple display. I turned my back for 2 seconds and then saw apples all over the floor by my feet. "Hmmm", I think to myself, "that was awfully close to Chloe". There was also a loud noise accompanying the apples.
I turn around at warp speed only to find my daughter moving the corner box of the whole display, thereby, causing the avalanche of apples to occur. Two produce guys come running. They look bionic in nature with outstreched arms coming at me. Everything seems to be going in slow motion at this point. Chloe continues to reak havoc as I try to pry her cute, tiny, fat hand off the box. I apologize profusely and start backing away.
I see other customers walking past me shaking their heads. Years ago, I would have been doing the same thing. "My children will be much better behaved than that, they'll be perfect angels at the grocery store." That's one of those things you say before you have kids. Then you have them and realize you were a great idealist at the time. Kids are dirty, messy, loud, unpredictable and loud.
The crazy thing is, people were probably thinking...'that poor mom, i'm sure she'll get better at this whole mom thing as the little one gets older'...little did they know that she's my third!!! I'm supposed to know what I'm doing by now. Aren't I?!! My children certainly keep me humble! :)
As the evening progressed closer and closer to bed-time, the boys found themselves in the thick of cleaning up the day's mess that lay on the floor all over the house. Mind you, we do have that ever-so-enforceable rule of "play with one toy at a time and then put it away before you get out another one", so I don't know how we ended up with a ton of things around the house to clean up (I say that tongue-in-cheek). Actually, I do...let me digress. You see, my boys (6 and 3) don't play with toys. Not because they are in need of any, oh no, we have a whole room full. But it seems my boys prefer to play "dress-up" all day long. We probably have more costumes in this house than Broadway. But nothing could be more fun, as of late, than to fly through the house with a Tigger or Pooh blanket tied around your neck, with Batman underwear on, another pair of underwear on your head and several layers of pajama bottoms and socks (those are actually boots - Chloe's pink socks are the more preferable kind). Do you have the mental picture of my children yet? Their tendancy is to remove one costume in whichever room they are in and get into yet another character by delving into their bottomless supply of pajamas, socks, and general costume gear.
So....as I was saying, the boys were 'cleaning' (I use the broadest scope of that word) their things. Gavin had done his part and decided to come half way down the stairs and in all the brotherly love he could muster, inform us that Bennett had not completed his task to the level we desired (meaning - not at all). Bennett, ever ready to justify himself, was standing next to Gavin at the top of the stairs during this time. So, as I was typing on the computer, I called up to Bennett "Bennett, we need to have a talk about this" and he responded in all seriousness, "How about tomorrow."
Where did such a quick wit come from? We'll never know. He certainly has a good come back. We tried desparately hard not to laugh at him - but even Gavin was laughing. We were totally caught off-guard.
I know, I know...I'm a horrible blogger. I have practically vanished off the scene for the past four months. But thankfully, I have the most wonderful excuse. We moved. That pretty much sums everything up right there. The riggors of packing, cleaning, unpacking, packing, cleaning and unpacking again (yes, we had to move twice in two months) leave one (especially me) with little to no time to do the things I love to do (like take a bubble bath and blog - not at the same time, mind you). But new material is always at my fingertips. Like now for example...
Things in the new house are relatively good - except for the mice!!! YUCK!!! Evidently, they lived here first and are not too happy that we have taken over their field. So, they are eating through the weather stripping and making themselves at home. Actually, I think we only have one POW in the house - they seem to like the garage - which we never enter any more. The other night we sent the kids upstairs to get ready for bed and they came running back down all freaked out saying they saw "something". We tried to blow it off. Chuck asked Gavin "what exactly did you see, describe it" (without trying to put words in his mouth of what he thought it was). So, Gavin said "I saw it run down the stairs and jump off, it was kinda small and black and had like 10 pointy hairs and a tail". I'm like, "you sure it wasn't a cricket?, I'm sure that's all it was" and Gavin was like "No, I'm pretty sure it was a mouse".
Chuck and I just lost it and started freaking out. We are huge scaredy cats when it comes to rodents of any kind. We immediately went out and bought some mouse traps and set them in the house and garage and lived with the hibbie-jibbies for a few days. We went for about 4 days without a sighting. Until this morning. We were obviously living with a false sense of security it seems.
I was on my hands and knees doing something on the floor and out of my peripheral vision I see something scampering across the floor. It was gray, not black. Oh how I wished at that moment that God could transport me directly to my bed and my bare feet wouldn't have to walk on the defiled floor that my nemesis just passed. I ran around the corner and leapt onto my bed with cell phone in hand. I planned on staying there until help arrived. I quickly called Chuck, who just got to work (it was like, 6:30am) and begged him to come home immediately to rescue me. The kids were safe up stairs - I, on the other hand, was in imminent danger.
Needless to say, he was a tad bit frustrated. :) He wouldn't have had to come home, mind you, had we had more than one car in our possession (that's a whole other blog). We were told the only way to solve the mouse problem (that's putting it mildly, I would rather call it the "black plague"), would be to lay out mouse poison around the premises of the house and in the flower beds. Problem is, we hadn't had a chance to run out and get any yet. So, Chuck stopped and picked some up and came home with an arsenal of weapons in hand, ready to conquer our enemy. He came home and looked behind sofas and tables and beds and much to my chagrin, couldn't find my little furry "friend". But the traps were set, so I once again a nice false sense of security calmed my queasy tummy long enough for him to go back to work for the rest of the day.
I swear I wanted to throw up once I saw the thing. The kids of course, think this is very funny. That mommy could be scared of something so small and cute and furry. They have just finished be brainwashed with the movie: "An American Tail" and can't seem to see those little critters the same way I do. When I told them that I saw the mouse that morning and that Daddy was coming home to "take care of it", the immediately started into their "aw Mom, don't do that, we want it as a pet". My obvious response was "NO WAY! Fish are pets, dogs are pets, cats are pets - mice are NOT pets - EVER - in this house". I believe I got the point across.
Upon further research, we think the way our little mousey pooh got in was through the opening in the bottom of the front door where the weather stripping had been chewed away and the thresh-hold was not high enough. They've since come to fix that and we've set many a trap and bait outside and in the garage which apparently are working. But this one little critter in the house, he must have a higher IQ.
We ended up having to upgrade our weaponry. We moved up to the sticky traps. We had been told that we would hear him "screaming" once he gets stuck - I'm sure that ghastly sound will haunt me the rest of my life, but I'm prepared to live with that. We can see he's trying to get back into the garage thru the utility cuz he's trying to eat through the weather stripping again. Hopefully tonite will be our last night with our uninvited little guest. Of course, this greatly saddens the boys. :)
UPDATE: Mission Accomplished - Noise not heard! :) (probably cuz I was sleeping with my hands covering my ears that night.)
Chuck normally bathes the kids. He likes to do it and he's good at it. That is the preface for this story. Therefore, a reasonable person could deduct from that statement that I don't like to bathe the kids and am not good at it. And one would be correct in assuming that to be true. The kids normally get their baths at night, but lately our evenings have been so busy, there hasn't even been time for night baths. So, I had to bathe them Tuesday morning (I won't even go into how many days it had been since the last bath. Suffice it to say....the bath HAD to be done that day and the morning wasn't soon enough).
Since Chloe has developed into quite the chunk, she doesn't even fit into her baby bath anymore, so I opted to put her in the big bath with the boys. All in my tub. That was mistake number one. Actually, I can't even begin to number the mistakes I made because I loose count somewhere around 53. So, here I am in my bathroom with three little people in one big tub - with jets. The boys love to run the jets and make bubbles. But I thought that might scare Chloe, so I told them that they could push the button to begin the jets just as soon as I took her out.
It is important to note here, that in order for the jets to work properly, the water must be over the holes where the air blows out of in order to create the bubble effect. Otherwise you get more of a mini hurricane effect with air and water squirting everywhich way throughout the entire room. Do I even need to go into the disaster that is about to occur? I'm sure you've guessed by now.
So, I'm in the process of trying to remove a very wet, slippery and wiggly 6 month old out of a tub of water and wrap a towel around her (yeah right, with my 3rd arm) when Bennett asks if it's now okay to push the button to turn on the jets. I didn't even bother to check and see if the water line was above the jets. It was when I put Chloe in. In all my wisdom, I decided that that would be fine. ( One could also dedcue that I don't have all that much wisdom).
Here comes the fun part. I'm now standing on the bath mat with a little butterball in my hands and all of the sudden it feels as if someone has decided to turn the hose on full blast and squirt it at me and Chloe and then all over the bathroom. I'm blind-sided and confused and very WET!!! Did I mention that I was already dressed for the day (and not in grubby clothes either) with hair done and everything - that alone is a feat in itself and now it is all quickly getting ruined with the mini hurricane.
I find myself yelling over the confusion to "PUSH THE BUTTON!!!" while attempting to run for shelter and to keep Chloe from getting sprayed in the face. As I'm running out of the bathroom holding Chloe out in front of me (still sopping wet) and screaming for somebody, anybody to put and end to the madness, I find my feet are no longer under me. I start to panic and am trying to make it through the tiny opening they call my bathroom door (I don't even think it's two feet wide) to get to the carpet. At this point, my main goal is to not drop Chloe.
I found out that the doorway is definately not wide enough. As my butt landed on the vinyl floor just before the opening, my arms and legs (all in front of me by this time) all hit parts of the doorjam. Chloe landed softly on the carpet on her bottom and sat there unfazed, like this is how we always get out of the tub. I'm already fearing the worst....that I broke a foot or arm or something. At least Chloe is unharmed (thank God!!!).
I don't quite remember when the jets stopped but as I sit in the tiny way, throbbing in pain and still holding Chloe I do two things: 1) I thank God I have a very good cushion on my back end and 2) I scream at the top of my lungs cuz I'm in so much pain, so frustrated with my self and just plain angry. Once I regain my composure I hobble over to the kids still sitting in the tub and starring at me as if I've lost my mind and try to do damage control. I explain to the boys that I am in no way upset with them - that it was just an accident and that my kinda handled her frustration badly. They asked to kiss my boo-boos and then I went and called Chuck and told on myself. He said not to worry, that I probably didn't damage their pshyce too much. We'll see....
The day wasn't off to a bad start. I actually got up on time and had time to myself to get ready, make the kids' lunches, make my bed and do the budget. Then the wonderful time arrives when my clan comes running into my room, dressed in who knows what - but definately not their pajamas, with a Rescue Hero in one hand and a stuffed animal in the other ready to cuddle on Mommy's bed. I wouldn't trade our morning routine for the world! I go in and get Chloe and we all hang out on my bed for a while - it's great!
Then stomachs start growling and we all head to the kitchen. Of course, no one wants the same breakfast food, so I play 'short order cook' for the next few minutes. All the while, Chloe is crying for her bottle. What kind of mother am I? My infant has gone a whole night without drinking a bottle; I'm sure she feels neglected when I don't give her a bottle the instant she wakes up in the morning. This was the case this morning.
Bennett's cereal is sitting on the table (with milk already in it), Gavin's waffle is in the toaster, Chloe is in my arms and crying for her bottle that I'm in the middle of preparing while I'm talking to Chuck on the phone. Can we say 'multitasking'? I'm encouraging Bennett to get to the table to eat his cereal before it gets soggy while Gavin is telling him not to go in the kitchen. I ask Gavin what the problem is and he informs me that there are "like 39 thousand, hundred ants in the kitchen". I was just in there earlier and didn't notice, so I go over to that side of the kitchen and sure enough, there's a nice little trail leading from the garbage can in the utility room (which is overflowing) down the wall and then under the table (directly under Gavin's seat) to all the crumbs. That is when I officially 'loose it'.
I call Chuck back and ask him what I'm supposed to do. I have way too many things to do and don't have time to clean it all up. He gives me a few suggestions and I blame the whole thing on him (it's easier that way - then I didn't have to take responsibility). My emotions continue to go further and further out of control. I feed Chloe, get the beginnings of a migraine and sit down to fume. Meanwhile, I hear the boys in the other room talking about who's fault it is and why Mommy is mad. That brought me back to reality. I was horribly wrong and handling my frustrations very negatively. I apologized to them, called Chuck back and apologized to him, prayed for strength - and received it. It's always so humbling when your children remind you that you handled your frustration wrong. I better practice what I preach because my audience is most definately paying attention!
Thankfully, everyone ate, we got the ants under control and even started school on time. The headache didn't go away until the afternoon - but at least it went away.
What a wonderful time of the year! As a kid I always loved school and starting it was such an exciting time. Now, I get to start it all over again with my children. But this time it's a little different. This time I'm the teacher. As parents we are our children's greatest teachers. We know them inside and out and know how to get through to them.
This year I have the honor of teaching my children at home! Gavin is doing 1st grade and Bennett is learning his early preschool skills. We are having soooooo much fun!!! I never imagined homeschooling would be this fun. I was soooooo scared to start. Afraid of messing up, not having enough time in my day, not knowing what to do. But in my children's eyes, I know everything and they trust me. How sweet is that?! My fears were all for naught.
In just 3 short days, Bennett has learned to recognize the letter A, the number 1 and the color red. When you ask Gavin what his favorite thing in school is, it's different every time. Monday, his favorite thing was Science, yesterday it was Math, today it's History. I'm so lucky to be experiencing the joy of their learning with them.
Bennett has been so excited about starting school. He keeps saying to us: "Mommy be te-er (teacher), I be Bemmet (Bennett) and bruh-er (brother) be Bavin (Gavin)." I guess he likes to make sure we are know our places!
My tub has once again been defiled. I felt as though I was being a generous soul, letting my children bathe in my private, special place. The place I retreat to each evening and with joy and excitement pronounce "Calgon, take me away!". How can such a place be defiled you may ask? By my son, Bennett - the infamous pooper and non-potty trainer.
This would be the second time such an incident has happened to my tub, by the same person. You would think I would have learned after the first time - but I have proven time and again that I don't learn after the first time. It obviously takes me several attempts to learn the same lesson.
We were just finishing a wonderful bath time this morning. Gavin had the bright idea to include Chloe in the bath with them today since she is getting so big. The only problem is, the only tub in the house that has the capacity to hold her baby tub plus two boys would be mine. I entered into this arrangement unaware of the horrors that were to follow.
The boys were so sweet to help me wash Chloe - of which I'm sure she was doubly grateful. We had some nice bonding time. Then Gavin, ever the idea maker, has another swell suggestion. He says "Bennett, would you like me to wash your hair and you can wash mine?". I'm thinking to myself that this idea will never fly, Bennett is very particular about how his hair is washed. But then, I would be wrong. He joyfully accepted his brother's offer. I should have suspected something would soon go arry with such joyful, positive attitudes so abundant at 8:30 in the morning.
I remove Chloe from the scene and am in the adjoining room dressing her. I can hear Gavin perfectly dictating the explicit instructions on exactly how one washes hair to his brother. Bennett then obediently follows the instructions just stated. Each boy now has perfectly clean hair (so I'm assuming). And no one cried or yelled for help. I could get used to this.
Then comes the 'act' so horrible. I've asked the boys to get out of the tub, wrap up in the towel and stand on the bath mat. I was in the other room putting Chloe down as I was giving these instructions. I then make my way into my bathroom and am welcomed with an odd oder and Gavin pronouncing "Mom, look what Bennett did!". I calmly ask everyone to vacate the premises. I go thru mourning and then proceed to pick up the defiled object out of my tub. Thankfully, Bennett was of sound enough mind to wait until most of the water had already left the tub before he committed 'the act'.
It is now 9:39am. I'm excited to see what lies ahead for the rest of our day.
I have been in the mood to paint my toe nails for quite some time now. I just never seem to get around to it. You know, I do happen to remember to paint them every night around 8 pm. That's just a little too late though if I'd like to keep the paint on my toe nails and not on my bed linens.
So, yesterday afternoon, I got the bright idea to go do it right after the boys woke up from nap time. Now I have two big helpers. I figured I'd just let them do the first coat and I'd do the second. Little did I know that my worldly wise children knew everything about pedicures at such young ages. They insisted on NO help from Mommy. Bennett even showed me that if you hold the bottle almost upside down, the nail polish only drips out slowly - not as fast as I thought it would. Of course we were using red.
Gavin, ever the perfectionist, was wiping the sides of the brush off so much (so as to be extra careful not to drip any polish), that there was nothing left for my toe nails. Of course, Bennett was in charge of holding the bottle for him. The intent there was that the bottle would be held still and in one location. Note to self - NEVER EVER let a very independent two year old EVER hold an open bottle of red nail polish. The boys then started fighting about exactly where the polish bottle should be held and practically forgot that I was there. Thankfully, I still had my wits about me this time of day and was able to mediate the dispute without any raised voice what-so-ever. I would now be the official 'nail polish bottle holder' for each boy. There, that's settled.
After the first toe is completed and I spend much of my time trying to wipe the polish off of my skin, I decided to just let the nail polish fall where it may - I'll just deal with it later. The boys were just so giddy to be 'helping' me - I didn't want them to see me 'fix' their mistakes. I did end up with a tad bit of polish on each nail on my right foot and a little more polish around the toe nail - but hey, it was his first time. There is quite a large learning curve in the pedicure business.
Then comes Bennett's turn. Oh boy! How dare I try to instruct him in the basics of putting the brush in the bottle and taking it out. What was I thinking? He just watched his older and wiser brother finish my right foot, he knows everything he needs to know. Sometimes I just don't think. After he screamed "NOOOOOOOOOOO yap (help) me, mom" while holding onto the brush in one hand and open bottle of red nail polish in the other, I decided it would be advisable to not help him.
He got that tongue action going while he was working ever so seriously on my left foot. His tongue was poking in and out of his mouth without him even knowing. All of my toes were now red. Bennett didn't feel the need to be cautious with the paint. Therefore, all my toes had plenty of red on them.
To give you a visual picture of my beautiful feet at this point, envision a basin of blood and then envision me sticking the entire front part of my foot into it and then repeating. I think I can honestly say that I will probably never have another pedicure like this again - that is unless the boys ask to give me one and then I would be honored - but I'd ask for clear nail polish this time.
