Now all he needs are a hat, some water, and a bunch of kangaroo jerky and he'll be ready for the outback.
Monday, June 30, 2008
G'Day, Mate!
My parents just returned from a three week vacation in Australia. They brought back boomerangs for the grandsons. Nathan loves his, of course, and has devised a brilliant carrying system.
Now all he needs are a hat, some water, and a bunch of kangaroo jerky and he'll be ready for the outback.
Now all he needs are a hat, some water, and a bunch of kangaroo jerky and he'll be ready for the outback.
God Bless America
On Saturday night we had the pleasure of doing our first bit of patriotic celebrating for this summer season. The city where my in-laws (and my parents, for that matter) live holds their big celebration the weekend before the 4th of July. Each year we have dinner with Kev's folks, hang out for the evening, and finish up the festivities with the fireworks display. This year Kev's siblings and their families were able to join us and we had a wonderful time.
Nathan, in spite of his excitement, was still nervous during the fireworks. He has always been that way. I think the noise is what bothers him. When he was one (and even two, I think), he wouldn't even watch. He would just bury his head in someone's shoulder, cover his ears, and wait for it to end. He watched the year he was three, but I think Aunt Connie covered his ears the entire time. And last year was even worse. He had tubes put in his ears in May, and after nearly a year of muffled hearing due to all the fluid in his ears, the noise was almost more than he could handle. This year he was determined to be brave. He started off sitting next to one of his cousins, but after about five minutes he hastily relocated to where Kev and I were sitting. But as long as one of us was close, he was okay.
Daniel was nervous the first year or two that he watched fireworks, but got over it quickly after that. Now it is an event that he truly looks forward to. It is fun to watch fireworks with Daniel because he yells and cheers when he is impressed. He really has no inhibitions about expressing his enjoyment of any event! As usual, the finale was fabulous. They very literally light up the sky. And Daniel loved it so much he drew a picture of the finale to share with everyone.
Matthew is the first of our children to enjoy the fireworks at the ripe old age of one. When the first one went up, his eyes got very big and then he laughed. He continued to grin and clap until he got too tired. Since his usual bedtime is 8:00 and he gave up clapping about 10:30, I think he did amazingly well!
So we had a great time. And I love that the boys are quickly gaining a sense of patriotism and the blessing it is to live in this country.
Nathan, in spite of his excitement, was still nervous during the fireworks. He has always been that way. I think the noise is what bothers him. When he was one (and even two, I think), he wouldn't even watch. He would just bury his head in someone's shoulder, cover his ears, and wait for it to end. He watched the year he was three, but I think Aunt Connie covered his ears the entire time. And last year was even worse. He had tubes put in his ears in May, and after nearly a year of muffled hearing due to all the fluid in his ears, the noise was almost more than he could handle. This year he was determined to be brave. He started off sitting next to one of his cousins, but after about five minutes he hastily relocated to where Kev and I were sitting. But as long as one of us was close, he was okay.
Daniel was nervous the first year or two that he watched fireworks, but got over it quickly after that. Now it is an event that he truly looks forward to. It is fun to watch fireworks with Daniel because he yells and cheers when he is impressed. He really has no inhibitions about expressing his enjoyment of any event! As usual, the finale was fabulous. They very literally light up the sky. And Daniel loved it so much he drew a picture of the finale to share with everyone.
Matthew is the first of our children to enjoy the fireworks at the ripe old age of one. When the first one went up, his eyes got very big and then he laughed. He continued to grin and clap until he got too tired. Since his usual bedtime is 8:00 and he gave up clapping about 10:30, I think he did amazingly well!
So we had a great time. And I love that the boys are quickly gaining a sense of patriotism and the blessing it is to live in this country.
Friday, June 27, 2008
"Monkey On A Pedestal"
On Wednesday evening I had the pleasure of a girls' night out with one of my oldest friends. I'm sure you've all heard that adage that old friends are the best. I believe that's true, although I'm not sure if it's because we actually like them more or because they have way more blackmail material on us and we don't want to tick them off. :-) But seriously, I've known Lisa since we were five and she is the one that knows all my deepest, darkest, and most embarrassing secrets. Although we keep in touch via e-mail and blog, we don't see each other nearly as often as we should. So it was a real pleasure to have an evening together!
We went to dinner and then we saw "The Drowsy Chaperone" at the Capitol Theater (Thank you, thank you, Lisa!!). I walked in knowing nothing about the show (an unusual circumstance for me) and was overwhelmingly surprised by how much I loved it. The narrator in the show (Man In Chair) was played by a Canadian actor by the name of Jonathan Crombie. That's right, ladies. Gilbert Blythe. In the flesh. Of course, the character he played in this production wasn't exactly the strong, sensitive man that Anne fell in love with. In fact, it wasn't even close. But in spite of that, listening to the chit chat before and after the show was like being caressed by a constant whisper of, "Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert . . ."
The show itself was a romp through the world of musical theater. It mocked (to the glee of the audience, of course) many common and often overused plot devices that occur in musicals. We're talking about the classic dumb blond, the gangsters disguised as regular folk (pastry chefs on this occasion), the European self-proclaimed ladies' man, lovely melodies coupled with really lousy lyrics, etc, etc. We were also provided with a running commentary on theater etiquette and what runs through one's head while watching a show. I laughed myself silly.
I won't bore you with more, but will conclude with one completely true fact I gleaned from the show: "Everything always works out in musicals. In the real world, nothing ever works out and the only people who burst into song are the hopelessly deranged." Which means, of course, that I'm definitely deranged. And so is most of my family, for that matter. And also a large percentage of my friends . . .
We went to dinner and then we saw "The Drowsy Chaperone" at the Capitol Theater (Thank you, thank you, Lisa!!). I walked in knowing nothing about the show (an unusual circumstance for me) and was overwhelmingly surprised by how much I loved it. The narrator in the show (Man In Chair) was played by a Canadian actor by the name of Jonathan Crombie. That's right, ladies. Gilbert Blythe. In the flesh. Of course, the character he played in this production wasn't exactly the strong, sensitive man that Anne fell in love with. In fact, it wasn't even close. But in spite of that, listening to the chit chat before and after the show was like being caressed by a constant whisper of, "Gilbert, Gilbert, Gilbert . . ."
The show itself was a romp through the world of musical theater. It mocked (to the glee of the audience, of course) many common and often overused plot devices that occur in musicals. We're talking about the classic dumb blond, the gangsters disguised as regular folk (pastry chefs on this occasion), the European self-proclaimed ladies' man, lovely melodies coupled with really lousy lyrics, etc, etc. We were also provided with a running commentary on theater etiquette and what runs through one's head while watching a show. I laughed myself silly.
I won't bore you with more, but will conclude with one completely true fact I gleaned from the show: "Everything always works out in musicals. In the real world, nothing ever works out and the only people who burst into song are the hopelessly deranged." Which means, of course, that I'm definitely deranged. And so is most of my family, for that matter. And also a large percentage of my friends . . .
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Snips and Snails, And Puppy Dog Tails
Today was laundry day. Besides clothes, this is what I pulled out of the washer:
Just another reason why life is fun with a house full of little boys!
The Yucky Mouse Club
I just read about a friend's recent mouse trouble and it reminded me of the fact that I have mouse trauma. We're talking serious fear of the mouse. Trauma of the full-body-shudder type. Want to hear about it?
When I was growing up, we had rodent trouble. In spite of my Dad's zealous efforts, the little vermin just kept on getting in. And since my bedroom was in the basement, I learned at an early age what it sounds like when there are mice in the walls. I used to lie awake at night, cringing at the little skritching sounds. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I'd bang on the wall and it would immediately go silent. But more often than not, only a few minutes would pass until the scratching sounds started again. Are you cringing yet? Just wait! It gets better!
My first serious mouse related trauma occurred when I was seven or eight. It was Sunday morning and, as usual, my parents were vainly attempting to get all of their children to move faster so we wouldn't be late for church. I don't remember what I was doing, but I was not headed in the direction of church and my mom was starting to get steamed. Everyone else was heading out the door and I was still standing around with no shoes on. So I ran down to my bedroom, grabbed some socks without taking time to actually put them on my feet (These were the very cool, ribbed, white knee highs! Very trendy in the early eighties!), sprinted to the closet, and shoved by bare feet into my shoes. Only to find that one of them was already occupied. At which point I shrieked. Loudly. I mean, how would you react if you stuck your naked toes into a shoe that was housing a completely hair-free baby mouse? I don't remember what happened next; who got rid of the mouse, whether or not we actually made it to church on time, etc. But I do remember thinking that the worst part of this whole adventure was that due to the fact that I'd been busy outgrowing all my clothes, I only had one pair of shoes that fit. SO I HAD TO WEAR THEM!!! I would have gladly risked eternal damnation and gone to church barefoot, but the wrath of Mother was a worse fear in those days.
So my ability to live peacefully with our unwelcome visitors decreased significantly that day. Little did I know that there was more to come.
My second, and equally enormous, mouse trauma happened when I was thirteen and in the seventh grade. I was not a morning person in my youth (imagine my surprise several weeks ago when I realized that in my old age I actually feel better when I don't sleep too late!) and as such, was usually pretty darn groggy when my alarm went off every school morning. On this particular morning, I was as out of it as ever. I slid out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. Only to step on a stair about a third of the way up and have it move under my bare foot! Yuck! Yuck!! Yuckity, yuck, yuck!!! But in all fairness, experience #2 was just one iota less yucky than experience #1 because 1) the mouse actually had fur and 2) and at least I didn't have to wear that particular stair for days until I could get new ones.
After that, slippers and socks became my constant companions downstairs. To this day I cannot go barefoot in my parents' basement. And every time I even think about mice, my toes curl up. Literally. And I have to pull my feet up off the floor.
Isn't it funny that we love sharing our most horrifying experiences with all those we know and love? There's just something about knowing that I've made bloggers near and far shudder in revulsion that makes me smile. Of course, I'm sitting here with my feet on the chair and my toes curled up, so apparently sharing has its downside as well!
When I was growing up, we had rodent trouble. In spite of my Dad's zealous efforts, the little vermin just kept on getting in. And since my bedroom was in the basement, I learned at an early age what it sounds like when there are mice in the walls. I used to lie awake at night, cringing at the little skritching sounds. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I'd bang on the wall and it would immediately go silent. But more often than not, only a few minutes would pass until the scratching sounds started again. Are you cringing yet? Just wait! It gets better!
My first serious mouse related trauma occurred when I was seven or eight. It was Sunday morning and, as usual, my parents were vainly attempting to get all of their children to move faster so we wouldn't be late for church. I don't remember what I was doing, but I was not headed in the direction of church and my mom was starting to get steamed. Everyone else was heading out the door and I was still standing around with no shoes on. So I ran down to my bedroom, grabbed some socks without taking time to actually put them on my feet (These were the very cool, ribbed, white knee highs! Very trendy in the early eighties!), sprinted to the closet, and shoved by bare feet into my shoes. Only to find that one of them was already occupied. At which point I shrieked. Loudly. I mean, how would you react if you stuck your naked toes into a shoe that was housing a completely hair-free baby mouse? I don't remember what happened next; who got rid of the mouse, whether or not we actually made it to church on time, etc. But I do remember thinking that the worst part of this whole adventure was that due to the fact that I'd been busy outgrowing all my clothes, I only had one pair of shoes that fit. SO I HAD TO WEAR THEM!!! I would have gladly risked eternal damnation and gone to church barefoot, but the wrath of Mother was a worse fear in those days.
So my ability to live peacefully with our unwelcome visitors decreased significantly that day. Little did I know that there was more to come.
My second, and equally enormous, mouse trauma happened when I was thirteen and in the seventh grade. I was not a morning person in my youth (imagine my surprise several weeks ago when I realized that in my old age I actually feel better when I don't sleep too late!) and as such, was usually pretty darn groggy when my alarm went off every school morning. On this particular morning, I was as out of it as ever. I slid out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom. Only to step on a stair about a third of the way up and have it move under my bare foot! Yuck! Yuck!! Yuckity, yuck, yuck!!! But in all fairness, experience #2 was just one iota less yucky than experience #1 because 1) the mouse actually had fur and 2) and at least I didn't have to wear that particular stair for days until I could get new ones.
After that, slippers and socks became my constant companions downstairs. To this day I cannot go barefoot in my parents' basement. And every time I even think about mice, my toes curl up. Literally. And I have to pull my feet up off the floor.
Isn't it funny that we love sharing our most horrifying experiences with all those we know and love? There's just something about knowing that I've made bloggers near and far shudder in revulsion that makes me smile. Of course, I'm sitting here with my feet on the chair and my toes curled up, so apparently sharing has its downside as well!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Wall-What?
Daniel and Nathan are having their first full blown movie fetish, which is different than the toddler movie obsessions we have already experienced. The toddler version is the one where you watch the same movie at least once a day, every day for three months, until mom declares that if she hears "I've Got a Friend In You" one more time she will pull all her hair out and then discreetly loses the dvd for a couple of months. No, this is something completely different.
It began several months ago when we saw "Horton Hears a Who" in the theater. Before the movie we saw a preview for Pixar's newest film, Wall-E. My boys were smitten. They talked about it for a few days, then it went on the back burner. Their fetish was reignited last week when we started swimming lessons. Between our house and the pool there is one particular bus stop shelter that has a poster for Wall-E adorning one side. Every day we have a conversation in the car about when this movie opens. Both Daniel and Nathan can tell you exactly when the movie will be coming to theaters. And they are counting down the days. Out loud. Every day. More than once.
Yesterday their fetish reached a new stage. They both drew a picture of Wall-E, and did amazingly well considering they have yet to see the movie and are pretty much basing their drawings on one viewing of the movie trailer and repeated glimpses of a poster while driving at 40 m.p.h. Then Daniel very neatly printed on both pictures the date of this movie's release and the fact that it will be in theaters. And then they hung them from the windows in the car, facing out, so that everyone will see them and know that Wall-E is coming to theaters on June 27. I've discovered that the reason Disney pays for advertising is so that small children all over the country will do just this sort of thing and provide them scads of additional advertising, free of charge. I don't think it is in the cards for us to see Wall-E on June 27th, but I'm pretty sure that on June 28th you will find me at the Cinemark.
So go ahead. Ask my boys about Wall-E. I dare you.
Nathan's Picture with Daniel's Writing
Daniel's Picture
Free Advertising For Disney
It began several months ago when we saw "Horton Hears a Who" in the theater. Before the movie we saw a preview for Pixar's newest film, Wall-E. My boys were smitten. They talked about it for a few days, then it went on the back burner. Their fetish was reignited last week when we started swimming lessons. Between our house and the pool there is one particular bus stop shelter that has a poster for Wall-E adorning one side. Every day we have a conversation in the car about when this movie opens. Both Daniel and Nathan can tell you exactly when the movie will be coming to theaters. And they are counting down the days. Out loud. Every day. More than once.
Yesterday their fetish reached a new stage. They both drew a picture of Wall-E, and did amazingly well considering they have yet to see the movie and are pretty much basing their drawings on one viewing of the movie trailer and repeated glimpses of a poster while driving at 40 m.p.h. Then Daniel very neatly printed on both pictures the date of this movie's release and the fact that it will be in theaters. And then they hung them from the windows in the car, facing out, so that everyone will see them and know that Wall-E is coming to theaters on June 27. I've discovered that the reason Disney pays for advertising is so that small children all over the country will do just this sort of thing and provide them scads of additional advertising, free of charge. I don't think it is in the cards for us to see Wall-E on June 27th, but I'm pretty sure that on June 28th you will find me at the Cinemark.
So go ahead. Ask my boys about Wall-E. I dare you.
Nathan's Picture with Daniel's Writing
Daniel's Picture
Free Advertising For DisneySunday, June 15, 2008
The Name Game
You know the syndrome that all parents get about 2 seconds after their second child is born, the one where they can never get the right name with the right child? I will be the first to admit that I have a terrible case of the Sibling Name Syndrome. It is a rare day when I don't call anyone by the wrong name. At least I haven't deteriorated to the point of just saying, "Hey you! Come here!" However, I fully expect to be at that point by the end of the summer. I always promised myself I wouldn't call my children by the wrong name, but it has kind of crept up on me.
On Friday we had an occurrence that made me feel a whole lot better about my inability to remember who my children are. I was running errands with all three boys, desperately trying to get done in time to take the boys to the park for a picnic and the free concert. (I had promised you see, and even used Lunchables as blackmail for good behavior in the store. So I had to get them to the park on time!) After the grocery store stop, I gave each of the big boys a job: Daniel was going to help me take the groceries into the house so the frozen food wouldn't get defrosted and Nathan was going to sit in the car with Matthew so we could be on the road again as soon as possible. After issuing these instructions, I asked each one what their job was. (Ask any teacher. This is a very important step in getting your children to remember anything you tell them. Making them repeat it back to you ensures that they understand . . . and that they were actually listening in the first place.) Daniel answered correctly and then Nathan summed up his job. "I'm going to stay in the car with Nathan . . . I mean Matthew."
It never occurred to me that my Syndrome might be contagious, but it appears that I have passed it on to my children. But in spite of the fact that I can only get my children's names right on a good day, at least I can always remember my own name!
On Friday we had an occurrence that made me feel a whole lot better about my inability to remember who my children are. I was running errands with all three boys, desperately trying to get done in time to take the boys to the park for a picnic and the free concert. (I had promised you see, and even used Lunchables as blackmail for good behavior in the store. So I had to get them to the park on time!) After the grocery store stop, I gave each of the big boys a job: Daniel was going to help me take the groceries into the house so the frozen food wouldn't get defrosted and Nathan was going to sit in the car with Matthew so we could be on the road again as soon as possible. After issuing these instructions, I asked each one what their job was. (Ask any teacher. This is a very important step in getting your children to remember anything you tell them. Making them repeat it back to you ensures that they understand . . . and that they were actually listening in the first place.) Daniel answered correctly and then Nathan summed up his job. "I'm going to stay in the car with Nathan . . . I mean Matthew."
It never occurred to me that my Syndrome might be contagious, but it appears that I have passed it on to my children. But in spite of the fact that I can only get my children's names right on a good day, at least I can always remember my own name!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Thoughts On Blogging
In the three and a half months I have been blogging, I have realized that I really enjoy it for several reasons. First of all, I have always enjoyed writing. I have never been a great writer of fiction, but I found I have a unique way of looking at life and am able to express that on paper (or computer screen). In high school and college I wrote all the time, and although none of it was great literature, I did have several things published in my high school's literary magazine. But most of it was simply a way of expressing my feelings and dealing with my life. In fact, I went through reams of paper trying to work through the angst that is the life of a teenage girl. But as I got older and gained a better perspective on life, I continued to write. In college I discovered a great joy when the words came together in just the right way. And there was something about making people laugh that was altogether euphoric. In the process, I learned to laugh at myself and was much happier for it. However, once I graduated from college and my structured opportunities to write disappeared, I gradually stopped. And lost that bit of happiness and self revelation in the process. So for all of you who encouraged me to blog, thank you for helping me find my way back to a skill that helps me make sense of the insanity that is my life.
All the way through school, college included, I was lucky enough to have really amazing girlfriends. There were different ones at different times of my life, but I always had a good group of pals surrounding me. These were the friends that were always there. We spent all our time together, knew everybody's deepest, darkest secrets and knew that no matter what happened, they would always be there. Although I have kept in contact with many of these dear friends over the years, once I graduated from college I lost the benefit of daily contact with the last of these comrades. Which leads me to the second reason I have learned to love blogging. I'm not the most outgoing person and it takes me a long time to make friends. As a busy stay at home mom, pretty much the only time I was seeing any other females my own age was on Sunday. And there just isn't time to get to know people in between "Do As I'm Doing" and "Shhh! That's not being reverent!" So in addition to participating in some wonderful weekday activities (I love book club!), participating in the wide world that is blogging has given me a chance to connect with other moms every day. I've gotten to know some of you fine ladies much quicker because I've been able to read about your daily joys and frustrations, many of which mirror my own. I've missed the camaraderie of a good group of girlfriends and I feel that I'm gaining that back, just with a twist of technology.
So there you have it. My top two reasons for my love of blogging. And just so you know, I just asked my one year old if I could sniff his bum. That is truly a question that would only be uttered by the tongue of a mother.
All the way through school, college included, I was lucky enough to have really amazing girlfriends. There were different ones at different times of my life, but I always had a good group of pals surrounding me. These were the friends that were always there. We spent all our time together, knew everybody's deepest, darkest secrets and knew that no matter what happened, they would always be there. Although I have kept in contact with many of these dear friends over the years, once I graduated from college I lost the benefit of daily contact with the last of these comrades. Which leads me to the second reason I have learned to love blogging. I'm not the most outgoing person and it takes me a long time to make friends. As a busy stay at home mom, pretty much the only time I was seeing any other females my own age was on Sunday. And there just isn't time to get to know people in between "Do As I'm Doing" and "Shhh! That's not being reverent!" So in addition to participating in some wonderful weekday activities (I love book club!), participating in the wide world that is blogging has given me a chance to connect with other moms every day. I've gotten to know some of you fine ladies much quicker because I've been able to read about your daily joys and frustrations, many of which mirror my own. I've missed the camaraderie of a good group of girlfriends and I feel that I'm gaining that back, just with a twist of technology.
So there you have it. My top two reasons for my love of blogging. And just so you know, I just asked my one year old if I could sniff his bum. That is truly a question that would only be uttered by the tongue of a mother.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Something's Fishy
We're having trouble with fish. Lots of trouble. It's almost like there is some kind of strange aquatic curse on our house that works to prevent fish from being happy and healthy. Seriously, if they don't just die, they seem determined to commit suicide. We would just give it all up, but the fish belong to our five year old. And he cares. A lot.
After the loss of three goldfish (two to parental incompetence and one to fishy gymnastics), Nathan was thoroughly discouraged with goldfish and chose a beta instead. It was a beautiful blue fish with multi-colored fins. Super fancy looking. He was called Rainbow. We came home and put the fish in the tank. Remember the one we purchased after we lost the first fish to aeronautics? The one with the lid? Well, we stuck the fish in there and for several weeks all was well. Rainbow was healthy, the water was clear, we even remembered to feed him. But today, disaster struck. On the lid of this tank, there is a small opening in the back to allow air tubes and stuff to pass out of the tank. This opening is seriously small, only about 1 inch by 1 inch once you take into account all the stuff that is filling it. But at lunch time Kev suddenly realized the fish was gone. You, like us, are probably thinking, "No way!" And I'll respond, "Yes, way!!!!" Somehow that dumb, crazy fish managed to jump out of that teeny, tiny space and ended up drying out behind the fish tank! I didn't think betas did that! They can live for years in a wine glass, for crying out loud! But we had to get the one beta that not only has aspirations to fly, but is a contortionist as well!
Poor Nathan has started asking for a turtle.
After the loss of three goldfish (two to parental incompetence and one to fishy gymnastics), Nathan was thoroughly discouraged with goldfish and chose a beta instead. It was a beautiful blue fish with multi-colored fins. Super fancy looking. He was called Rainbow. We came home and put the fish in the tank. Remember the one we purchased after we lost the first fish to aeronautics? The one with the lid? Well, we stuck the fish in there and for several weeks all was well. Rainbow was healthy, the water was clear, we even remembered to feed him. But today, disaster struck. On the lid of this tank, there is a small opening in the back to allow air tubes and stuff to pass out of the tank. This opening is seriously small, only about 1 inch by 1 inch once you take into account all the stuff that is filling it. But at lunch time Kev suddenly realized the fish was gone. You, like us, are probably thinking, "No way!" And I'll respond, "Yes, way!!!!" Somehow that dumb, crazy fish managed to jump out of that teeny, tiny space and ended up drying out behind the fish tank! I didn't think betas did that! They can live for years in a wine glass, for crying out loud! But we had to get the one beta that not only has aspirations to fly, but is a contortionist as well!
Poor Nathan has started asking for a turtle.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Mommy-lapse
I was at Mom's Club this morning and we had a discussion about teething: who got which teeth when, how many teeth our children currently have, whether they were terrible teethers or not, etc. I made a comment about how Matthew got all six of his teeth in a relatively short time period and hasn't gotten any new ones since then. I also admitted freely that I missed all four of Daniel's two-year molars. I do have a great reason though. He got those particular teeth during the first trimester of my pregnancy with Nathan, the time period when half my ward thought I was going inactive because I missed church so much. I was so sick that I kept a container of dry cereal by my bed, partially so I would have something to munch in a vain attempt to keep the nausea down and partially so I wouldn't have to get out of bed when Daniel woke up hungry in the morning. For nine months the clean clothes never got folded and the only time the toilet got cleaned was when my older sister did it for me. Kev was working during the day and in school at night. It was a sad, sad time for us all. Anyway, besides those teeth of Daniel's I have been pretty aware of who is growing teeth in our house and feeling pretty good about my level of awareness.
At dinnertime tonight, Matthew was screaming his head off because I wasn't bringing his food fast enough (He is in terrible danger of starving, you know. At least he thinks so.) and I happened to take a peek in his mouth to see if I could spy any new teeth. Not only did I find one just cutting through, but I found two others that have been around for awhile. All three are molars. In spite of the fact that I'm the one who usually brushes his teeth, feeds him his meals, and generally assesses his well being, I totally missed three teeth. Big ones. It's not like cutting a molar is a fast and easy process. And I absolutely have no excuse this time. Except for the fact that he is the third child and in spite of my best intentions, things like his baby book are very sparsely filled compared to Daniel's and Nathan's. But still! Molars! Three of them!!
I am so ashamed.
And I'm laughing at myself due to the irony of this situation. The only reason I was peering into his mouth while he shrieked was because we talked about teeth this morning. It wasn't some Super Mommy Sense. It was peer pressure, plain and simple.
At dinnertime tonight, Matthew was screaming his head off because I wasn't bringing his food fast enough (He is in terrible danger of starving, you know. At least he thinks so.) and I happened to take a peek in his mouth to see if I could spy any new teeth. Not only did I find one just cutting through, but I found two others that have been around for awhile. All three are molars. In spite of the fact that I'm the one who usually brushes his teeth, feeds him his meals, and generally assesses his well being, I totally missed three teeth. Big ones. It's not like cutting a molar is a fast and easy process. And I absolutely have no excuse this time. Except for the fact that he is the third child and in spite of my best intentions, things like his baby book are very sparsely filled compared to Daniel's and Nathan's. But still! Molars! Three of them!!
I am so ashamed.
And I'm laughing at myself due to the irony of this situation. The only reason I was peering into his mouth while he shrieked was because we talked about teeth this morning. It wasn't some Super Mommy Sense. It was peer pressure, plain and simple.
Yum!
Matthew has decided that he really likes rice crispy treats. Which is good because (when made with dairy free margarine and the right marshmallows) they are a great food-allergy-friendly treat.
However, he is the only child I have ever known that eats them with a fork.
However, he is the only child I have ever known that eats them with a fork.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Summertime, And My Kids Drive Me Crazy
Today is the third official day of summer vacation. So far, my children have fought, slept, bickered, eaten, quarreled, whined, argued, pouted, and fought some more. Oh, and they went on a field trip with Grandpa and Grandma. When Nathan asked how long they would be gone and I didn't know, he speculated that they would be gone for 305 years. Let's think about that for a minute. If they were gone for 305 years, by the time they returned they would have grown up into smart and responsible adults, completed all necessary schooling, married, had children of their own (hopefully getting a bit of payback for the whining they shower on me), lived full and happy lives, died, and maybe even been resurrected and perfected. That is my kind of field trip! But of course I had to settle for the 305 peaceful minutes that they were gone instead.
Seriously, this summer is going to be a trial. I have outings and activities planned, but it always takes more energy just to get everyone out the door than it takes to complete the outing. And projects often feel like a lesson in futility due to the constant disputes that accompany even the most entertaining task. But try I must, and maybe if I'm really lucky I'll come up with a way to nip the squabbles in the bud.
On the bright side, there are only 82 days until school starts. And then five days a week, Matthew and I will have nearly four hours all to ourselves.
Seriously, this summer is going to be a trial. I have outings and activities planned, but it always takes more energy just to get everyone out the door than it takes to complete the outing. And projects often feel like a lesson in futility due to the constant disputes that accompany even the most entertaining task. But try I must, and maybe if I'm really lucky I'll come up with a way to nip the squabbles in the bud.
On the bright side, there are only 82 days until school starts. And then five days a week, Matthew and I will have nearly four hours all to ourselves.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Toddler Time
Although Matthew has only recently passed the one year mark, he has definitely turned into a little toddler. Although small in stature, he is large in creativity and the ability to accomplish a task in record time and complete silence. Here is a rundown of the things he has achieved so far today:
1. He started off the day by reaching into the garbage can while sitting in his highchair and retrieving the crusts of a piece of buttered bread. I took them away as soon as I saw them, washed his hands, washed his tray, move the highchair, gave him Benadryl just is case, and gave him new Cheerios.
2. He dropped a jar of pickles in the storage room while I was trying to find a place for all the paper towels (Sam's Club can have great prices, but it requires creativity in the storage department). Luckily for me, it didn't break. Way to use good glass Vlasic!
3. He figured out how to open the dishwasher, the seemingly permanent home of the milk dirtied dishes. I was talking to Kev on the phone when this happened and I'm pretty sure the word "crap" was uttered. Maybe even the "holy crap" version.
4. While working on a project with Nathan, I suddenly heard the air pump on the fish tank turn off, then back on. Matthew was under the table playing with the plugs, although by the time I poked my head under there, he was already gone. Fast and smart. Again luck was with me because he was not electrocuted.
5. During the same project (This was not a long project. Five minutes, tops.), he stealthily pulled every last kleenex out of a half full box. For anyone in need of a tissue, they are now ultra-accessible. Just grab one from the enormous pile on the table.
6. He played with the toilet. At least the lid was down and he hasn't figured out how to open it. The bathroom door at our house will now be closed when no one is occupying the restroom, but open when I'm using it (Remember our recent bug problem?).
7. He played with books that aren't his: Gone With the Wind (which is way too old for him) and The Very Hungry Caterpillar (I can hardly blame him). At least he hasn't reached the stage where he handles the pages in the same manner as the kleenexes.
8. After the big boys left the bathroom door opened, he came out carrying Nathan's flushable wipes, which means he was playing with the toilet again.
This list is by no means comprehensive, just the highlights of his day up until nap time (I still have half a day to survive!). It's also useful to keep in mind the fact that he spent two and a half hours this morning either strapped in his car seat or buckled in a shopping cart. You might have the idea that I'm a negligent mother, but I'm actually not. Matthew is just a cunning little turkey who has already learned that the best time to do anything is when I have my head turned . . .or when I'm peeing.
1. He started off the day by reaching into the garbage can while sitting in his highchair and retrieving the crusts of a piece of buttered bread. I took them away as soon as I saw them, washed his hands, washed his tray, move the highchair, gave him Benadryl just is case, and gave him new Cheerios.
2. He dropped a jar of pickles in the storage room while I was trying to find a place for all the paper towels (Sam's Club can have great prices, but it requires creativity in the storage department). Luckily for me, it didn't break. Way to use good glass Vlasic!
3. He figured out how to open the dishwasher, the seemingly permanent home of the milk dirtied dishes. I was talking to Kev on the phone when this happened and I'm pretty sure the word "crap" was uttered. Maybe even the "holy crap" version.
4. While working on a project with Nathan, I suddenly heard the air pump on the fish tank turn off, then back on. Matthew was under the table playing with the plugs, although by the time I poked my head under there, he was already gone. Fast and smart. Again luck was with me because he was not electrocuted.
5. During the same project (This was not a long project. Five minutes, tops.), he stealthily pulled every last kleenex out of a half full box. For anyone in need of a tissue, they are now ultra-accessible. Just grab one from the enormous pile on the table.
6. He played with the toilet. At least the lid was down and he hasn't figured out how to open it. The bathroom door at our house will now be closed when no one is occupying the restroom, but open when I'm using it (Remember our recent bug problem?).
7. He played with books that aren't his: Gone With the Wind (which is way too old for him) and The Very Hungry Caterpillar (I can hardly blame him). At least he hasn't reached the stage where he handles the pages in the same manner as the kleenexes.
8. After the big boys left the bathroom door opened, he came out carrying Nathan's flushable wipes, which means he was playing with the toilet again.
This list is by no means comprehensive, just the highlights of his day up until nap time (I still have half a day to survive!). It's also useful to keep in mind the fact that he spent two and a half hours this morning either strapped in his car seat or buckled in a shopping cart. You might have the idea that I'm a negligent mother, but I'm actually not. Matthew is just a cunning little turkey who has already learned that the best time to do anything is when I have my head turned . . .or when I'm peeing.
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