Just Call Me the Invisible Woman

I am invisible. Not the cool kind of "Hey, I can spy on everyone" invisible, but the "Hello?! Am I even here?" kind of invisible. For example, my children can see the TV just fine, but even if I stand in between them and the screen, they absolutely cannot see me. However, everyone else can see me just fine, so I must conclude that only my children are affected of my invisible nature. I call this particular affliction Domestic Blindness. I am not the only thing that becomes invisible due to the malady my children suffer. Absolutely any object in our house may mysteriously become invisible to their poor, tortured eyes.

Domestic Blindness is often experienced with the corresponding residential disease referred to as Domestic Deafness. When having a flare up of Domestic Deafness, children are completely unable to hear certain frequencies, typically those that encompass the speaking ranges of both father and mother.

Let me explain how these debilitating diseases effect our daily lives. This morning I asked Nathan to put his bib on so he could eat breakfast. He was obviously in the middle of a flare up of Domestic Blindness, because he could not see his bib even though it was right in front of him. For nearly five minutes he searched all over, looking everywhere in the vicinity of the table. Finally, the flare up passed and at last he was able to see his bib. When it was time to brush teeth, I asked the big boys about six times to stop playing and brush so we could get Daniel to school on time. But to no avail. It was obviously Domestic Deafness. Later on, as I was trying to get Matthew ready to go, I asked the big boys to take the dry laundry out of the dryer and put the wet laundry in. There was no response. No sounds of action. Nothing. So I asked them if they were switching the laundry. They replied in the negative (of course), so I asked them again. And still there was no movement towards the laundry basket. Apparently they were both experiencing intermittent flashes of Domestic Deafness. When we finally got everything done and were ready to go, I asked for help in finding Matthew's blankie. I should have known that both Daniel and Nathan were far too ill to be able to assist me in this task. I was searching every room in the house, hearing them periodically holler that they couldn't find it, walked back in to the kitchen and saw the blankie about two inches from both boys. Normally a bright blue blanket patterned with rainbow hued animals with electric yellow edging would be no problem to spot, but when afflicted with Domestic Blindness, it becomes impossible to see.

I hope these fine examples of Domestic Blindness and Deafness are helpful in identifying these troublesome conditions in your own homes. They seem to affect all children at one time or another, although some are more prone to relapses than others. Unfortunately, the only cure for these disorders appears to be having children of one's own, at which point the disease simply passes to the next generation. I only wish that these illnesses could linger into adulthood. Perhaps then I could ignore the enormously loud noises that seem to accompany my children in all their waking hours or even gloss over the cracker crumbs spread all over the kitchen floor, but alas, it is simply not meant to be.

Pomp and Circumstance

Nathan's Preschool Graduation was on Friday evening. He has spent the month of May preparing for it at school and he was incredibly excited. I'm sure many of you are wondering why they need a graduation. It's just preschool, right? The reason they have a graduation is to give the children a chance to do this:


I mean, what child doesn't cherish the opportunity to stand on stage and wave to his family? And seriously, this graduation is one of the things about our preschool that we absolutely love. It is a big celebration of the transition from preschool to kindergarten and the kids really love having such a special night. Nathan was so serious while he was singing, but in between songs he was having the time of his life. Afterwards, we introduced our big boys to Leatherby's. Yum! We gathered there with all the grandparents, several aunties and cousins, and an uncle. Now instead of asking to go to Wendy's, Nathan asks to go to "the place we went after my graduation."

I have been so pleased with everything at this preschool. The teachers are fabulous. The curriculum is wonderful. My kids have learned so much and come away completely prepared for kindergarten. And the owner is all about giving the kids moments of great joy and success. What parent wouldn't love for their child to have moments like this one?


So let's give a cheer for the new graduate! Hip, hip hooray!

Little Dude

Before Matthew was born, we had trouble choosing a name for him. In fact, we didn't decide for sure what to call him until we were getting everything in order to check out of the hospital and needed something to fill in the blanks on his form. (Daniel however, was sure he was Matthew for about three months before he was born. Apparently we should have listened.) Due to the lack of a name, my youngest sister started calling him Little Dude. We all picked it up, even me. Three weeks before the birth when we ordered brother shirts for all our boys, we put Little Dude on Matthew's shirt because we had nothing else to put. And even now, at fifteen months, he still gets called Little Dude.

After he was born, the name stuck but got treated with a bit more irony. After all, he was over 8 pounds at birth and seemed to be following in the big ol' footsteps of his older brothers. But over his first year, as his growth evened out to reflect his true stature, it became obvious that he definitely is the "little" brother. At his one year appointment our doctor checked his measurements two or three times to make sure they were correct. Being accustomed to the size of my two older boys, he finally remarked with a bit of surprise that Matthew isn't going to be all that tall. My dry response? "Well, I am his mother." And I'm not quite 5' 3". Our doc is great though. He just laughed and teased me about diluting the gene pool.

Today was another confirmation of the size difference between Matthew and the other boys. Nathan had his five year check up and Matthew had his fifteen month. Nathan is in the 95th percentile for both height and weight. Matthew, on the other hand, is in the 15th percentile for weight and he isn't even on the chart for height. I mean way below the 3rd percentile.

It looks like "Little Dude" is a more appropriate nickname than we ever thought it would be. Poor kid. He is always going to be the younger, shorter brother. At least he has a giant sized personality to make up for it!

The boys in their brother shirts (May 2007)

If All the Raindrops Were Lemondrops and Gumdrops

There was a primary activity yesterday. Moms were invited, so Daniel, Nathan and I spent part of our morning at the church. We played Mother's Day bingo. The boys planted red petunias in cute flower pots as a gift for me. And they made cookie flowers in pudding dirt cups for refreshments. Nathan is not a fan of pudding, but that didn't stop him from creating a masterpiece in pudding, cookies, and gummy worms. However, he had absolutely no interest in eating his creation. When we got home we found a nice, sunny place in the backyard for my flowers. Then Nathan informed me that he wanted to leave his pudding cup outside so it could grow. Can you imagine what that would be like? Balls of cookie dough emerging in the spring, the summer sun gently baking them to crispy perfection just in time for autumn harvest. If only . . . Anyway, I had to tell him I was pretty sure it wouldn't grow.

Sometimes I wish I could protect him from reality just a bit longer. It might be a nicer world if more people believed that cookies really could just grow, that it could really rain lemonade if the clouds were just right, and that Santa really does fly all the way around the world once a year.

Please Pass the Advil!!!!!

I woke up on Saturday morning with a headache. Not a My-head-is-a-bit-achey-I-think-I'll-take-a-couple-Tylenol headache. A Holy-cow-when-I-move-anything-the-whole- world-spins headache. For those of you who are lucky enough not to be afflicted with migraines or other such heinous types of headaches, let me describe what it is like. First, take a railroad spike (the bigger and rustier the better) and shove it through your head. Location doesn't matter much, although my personal favorites are the temples and right behind my ears. Now, tune your radio to whatever kind of music you absolutely abhor. Whether it is country or hip hop, rap or hard rock, make it really loathsome. And then turn it up as loud as you can. Loud enough that your teeth vibrate. Next, look directly into the sun. Then add in some dizziness, nausea, and vomiting and you've got a pretty good idea of what a really gruesome headache feels like. I know that people look forward to being resurrected and being restored to their perfect bodies for a variety of reasons, everything from anxiously awaiting the return of the thin, svelte pre-baby body to welcoming a full, lush landscape of hair. But me, the things I look forward to the most are not having to endure any more skull crushing headaches and being able to see farther than three inches without my glasses. Seriously, I would happily be fat for eternity if it meant I never had to spend another day vomiting due to the enormously sharp pain in my temporal lobe.

As a result of this mind numbing experience, I missed the opera and dinner with my mom and my sisters. I was totally bummed. It was PF Chang's and Don Giovanni for heaven's sake! Mozart! So to make myself feel better (a little bit anyway), I used the money I had set aside for dinner and bought a pair of shoes. They are red. And cute. And they were on sale. And the 6 1/2 actually fit even though I usually can't cram my short, fat little feet into a regular width shoe. And I was lucky enough to get the last pair in my size in the store. And there was a teeny tiny ding on one shoe so they gave me an additional 10% off. And when my change came out as 98 cents, the guy just gave me $1. So I missed dinner and the opera (dang it!), but I got a really cute pair of shoes at 56% off the regular price. And they are red. My favorite color.

Science Geek

When Daniel said our family prayer tonight, he said thank you for the oxygen that is produced from the leaves of the trees. He is such a bright, intelligent boy and I'm very grateful for that, but I'm so afraid he is going to get beat up when he is older.

The Light and The Blight

Have you ever wondered how many of our lifelong neurosis are caused by trauma inflicted upon us by our siblings? Even though we can't remember all the things that happen when we are young and impressionable, I believe that many of our fears and anxieties can be directly linked to experiences in our formative years. Many of which are undoubtedly caused by our siblings. Right now I am having a picture in my mind of Matthew at age 30, so unnerved by the vacuum that he can't force himself to pull the thing out and help his poor overworked wife clean the carpet. I'll give you one guess as to which sibling caused his lifelong trauma. As I'm sure most of you suspected, Nathan is the culprit. No surprise there. Matthew is the light and the blight of his four year old world.

Matthew used to have a very healthy relationship with our vacuum. He would chase it around, try to push it, pull it over on himself, etc. But about two weeks ago, that all changed. Nathan turned on the vacuum without warning, startling Matthew. And then he proceeded to chase Matthew with the vacuum while Matthew attempted to get away as fast as he could toddle. But Nathan was faster and relentless and eventually trapped Matthew in the corner of the bedroom with the vacuum (still turned on of course). There was shrieking such as I have never heard that day. And Matthew has not recovered. Every time he sees the vacuum, he runs for cover (or for Daddy if Kev is home).

Today I made Nathan vacuum the floor after lunch due to the enormously high volume of cracker crumbs all over the carpet. As soon as Nathan opened the closet to get out the vacuum, Matthew high tailed it to the point in the room farthest from the vacuum. I was washing dishes so I didn't hear Nathan approach, but all of a sudden Matthew complained. I turned around and Nathan had Matthew trapped in the corner of the kitchen with the vacuum. It wasn't on, but Matthew was still very nervous. Anyway, Nathan got reprimanded for scaring his brother, told not to do it again, to please just vacuum the floor, etc. But all he heard was, "Blah, blah, blah," because as soon as he was done cleaning up the crumbs, he had the vacuum aimed at Matthew again. I reprimanded him again, telling him that it is just plain mean and he is the reason Matthew is afraid of the vacuum and just get done and put the thing away! So he unplugged it, rolled the cord up, waited until I wasn't looking and then instead of rolling the vacuum back into the closet, pushed it all the way across the room to position it right in front of Matthew again. By then poor Matthew had that deer in the headlights look. So Nathan and I had what my dad refers to as a "Come to Jesus" talk. I asked my four year old if Jesus would want him scaring Matthew with the vacuum. Nathan answered in the negative of course, because he is not a stupid kid. Then I asked him if it makes Jesus happy when he scares his brother on purpose. Again Nathan knew the right answer. I reminded him to be nice because that is what Jesus wants us to do. Fortunately for me, this week's family home evening lesson was on just this topic so I had a recent conversation to remind him of.

Thus ended today's vacuum terror, but I'm sure that in another dark moment, Nathan will be at it again. Poor Matthew doesn't stand a chance.

Here is a fine visual example of Nathan with his light . . .

. . .and his blight.

*#%*!!

Everyone has a favorite expletive, the one that slips out unwittingly when they are angry, frustrated, or just plain irritated at life. Some of these expletives are entertaining. For example, "Camel snot!" was popular with my crowd in high school. From there many creative sounds of annoyance were born: "Monkey poop," "Turtle turd," etc. The more creative, the better. There are those who's favorites are Utah's soft swear words: "Darn it!", "Shoot!", "Crap!", and the ever popular "What the heck?!" There are those who use antiquated exclamations such as "Poppycock!" and "Balderdash!" I have even known people who simply cry out, "Swear words!" And of coarse there are those who just let it rip with "*#%*," "&^$@," or even "*&%$ &*$%#%^&!"

But as I was driving down the road this morning behind a garbage truck who was leaving in its wake a trail of unsavory tidbits (and some big-bits), the only thing that came to mind as I swerved to avoid yet another object to the windshield was my mother's favorite expletive, "Oh, garbage!"