If I could time travel

Every year on each of my children's birthdays I look through the baby book or scrapbook.  Or pile of pictures that are going to become a scrapbook.  Or pictures that someday I am going to actually print so I can pile them up and someday scrapbook them.  And I am struck by how tiny they are.  How much they have grown.

However, this year I was struck by a different thought while looking at pictures of my now ten year-old.  I looked from his face, probably for the first time, to the face of the one holding him.  The ten year-ago version of me.  I noticed how young I looked.  I turned back more pages.  Yep.  Even younger.  More pages, same story.  The whole way back to the first picture of a new, glowing, excited, exhausted mommy.  And this time, instead of writing my sweet baby a letter for their birthday, I wished to reach out to her.

If I could, I would go back and tell her so much.  I would tell her to relax.  To enjoy.  Oh, I know she knows that.  I know that she made the most of everyday.  She played.  Laughed.  Grasped each moment as best and as tightly as she could.  But there was always more.  Fear.  Disappointment in herself.  A struggle to know she was making the right choices.  And there are so many, many choices.   Everyday.  Every child.   Every minute.  Sometimes she will feel like she is drowning in a sea of uncertainty.

Mostly, though, I would tell her that she is going to survive, because I know that she will not always feel like it or believe it.

There will be bumps and bruises.  I know that she is going to drop her brand new baby at just a few days old from the couch in her exhaustion.  She judges herself because she doesn't know how many mothers do that.

She will have to hold down a baby for testing.  And a toddler.  And a preschooler.  And she will cry longer than they will.  And she will remember it forever, even when they forget.

There will come a day that she is tired of being pregnant.  And there will come a day that she wishes that she still was.  And feeling either feeling is fine.  And normal.  And so are the tears.  And one day, they will stop falling as hard. But they will still fall.

She is going to pace for hours overnight.  She is going to pray in quite a few hospital rooms.  She is going to meet more doctors than she can remember.  She is going to stand in a hospital hallway while her heart is rolled away for surgery.  More than once.  And it will bring her to her knees.  Literally.  But she will breathe again.

She is going to hold more than one grubby hand while there are x-rays, stitches, staples, concussions, broken bones and close calls.  And while it makes her queasy, she will not be sick.

There will be psychologists.  Neurologists.  Diagnoses. Autism.  ADHD.  But she will always know that she has the best children in the world.

Her husband will work away.  At times far away.  But he will be her rock.  And she will need him so very much.  And he will be there.  And she may need to tell him why they fall, but he will dry her tears.

She will try to hold herself together through depression.  And she will struggle to use her hand after a stroke.  And she will get very angry when she misspeaks or stutters.  But she will talk again.  And she will use that hand again.

She will homeschool.  And it will be fun.  And exciting.  And scary.  And hard.  And she will want to quit, but she won't.  And it will be rewarding again.  And even fun again.  She is making the correct choice, but she won't always feel like it.

In that moment, in that snap shot of her young life, she is full of innocence.  She does not know what the future holds.  She does not know what is in store.  And that is a good thing.  Because it is overwhelming.  At times it is unbearable.  But it will make her strong.  Stronger than she has ever been.  Sometimes she won't even know it, but it is happening, everyday.  Even this one.

Top Ten Reasons...

that I am the biggest meanie weenie ever.  According to the children in my house.

10.  I will not let Micah walk to Grandma's house.  He is almost two.  It is several blocks away.  She is not home.  I am a jerk.

9.  I do not agree that a long sleeve shirt would make a person feel cooler than a short sleeve shirt.  In the summer.  I know nothing about fashion.  I may be ruining a young life as we speak.

8.  I will not let my children carry around a dying baby bird and try to feed it crunched up worms mixed with spit.  They already started collecting the spit.  And the worms.  And the dying baby bird.

7.  Breakfast is not cookies.  Or ice cream.  Or cake.  And we have no cookies.  Or cake.

6.  I will not let Micah eat a play dough pizza.  Or play dough cookies. Or play dough cake. Or even play dough lumpy thing.

5.  I make the kids read, play, go outside, and get creative before turning on any electronics.  Even in the summer. Even on rainy days. Even when they just charged an iPod.

4.  I do not want a pet snake.  I will not allow my children to have a pet snake.  As a matter of fact, I have placed a hold on any new pets until we have quite a few less pets than we do now.  Be that by rehoming, death, or escape. And even then, probably no snake.  I just don't want to have to feed it like I do with all the other pets my kids (and husband) have.

3.  No one is allowed to have soda for breakfast.  I have no soda in the house.  We have juice.  Water. Milk. Tea. Kool aid.  Hot chocolate.  Those are all gross.  I must not have taste buds.  At all.

2.  I toss broken toys.  All of them.  Even if Dad can do magic, preform surgery, or has enough super glue.  They will break again.  Kids will cry again.  Like a band aid, the quicker the better, just toss it and get it over with.  Especially when it is in five or more pieces, is missing a wheel, and only has one handlebar. And used to be a finger bicycle.

1.  I will not let the size five and six kids wear size two costumes to go jump on the trampoline. Even if it is the only ninja costumes they can find.  No, black pants and black shirts will not work the same.  Even though they would cover more skin because they fit.

And that is all just from today.  Before lunch.  I should have a much larger list by bedtime.

Advice

A few days ago I noticed something on Facebook.  At least three of my friends posted something about their children that was either humorous or as a way of “venting”.  None of those posts were things that should make the children feel bad, or reflect on the parents in any way.  It was just a fact of life of parenting.  I may not even need to mention that each post was about a son.  And something that said son did that was amazing.  Not a good kind of amazing. 

The thing that I noticed was that on each post someone felt the need to either provide parenting advice or tell the poster why the behavior was wrong.  And that is common on the internet.  We assume that anyone and everyone is just waiting for us to spout out our advice as if it were the answer that they have been waiting for so long to hear.  We assume that if we did not post our thoughts about reducing caffeine, or sugar, or red dye this poor child is destined to suffer.  Or feel the need to give advice on how to discipline an unruly child.  That we have never met.  In a situation we have only heard two sentences about. 

I am not saying that any of these are necessarily bad suggestions. Or that I have never done this.  Because I am sure that I totally must have.  And I am glad that the internet was not all that old when I knew everything.  You know, before having children.  Because I would have looked like a jerk back then on some of the posts that people exactly like me make today. 

 I just think that dispensing this kind of advice over the internet shows that we do not understand the intent of the person sometimes.  There are places online I go to find out more about parenting.  There are places I go to ask advice on specific situations.  I have people in real life to talk to, and several online friends from around the world that can help me out when I need it.

Other times I am not looking for advice.  These times I am just looking for a parent-to-parent connection.  And maybe some hope.  Or a parent that has lived through raising children and will throw back their head and life when I say things that my children have done.  So I feel less alone.  Less insane. 

Sometimes, Internet, all I want are comfort words.  No actual answers.  I want to hear things like:

“Yes, cat whiskers grow back.”

“No, that missing eyebrow is hardly noticeable.”

“No one has ever died from eating a glow stick.”

“Poison control knows my child too.”

“Yes, I have laughed at my child throwing a fit.  No regrets.”

“My child has also done that.  And lived.”

And that, Internet, is why I post on Facebook about the time my son ate three Adrenaline Rush packets which caused him to bounce around our house like a ping pong ball and then crash for hours.  Not to hear that I am negligent by hiding them on the top shelf of the pantry behind other boxes without ever thinking he could climb up there and get them while I was in the bathroom.  Or how harmful it is for my child to jump onto a trampoline from the garage roof.  Or how I should have assumed that he would stick dice, or an Orbee, or a napkin, or a piece of cheese, or Kool Aid powder up his nose.   Because I know all that.  And Have learned to never go to the bathroom.  Now.  I just want to know that I am not alone.  And that he will survive to adulthood.  And that I will too.  And that sometimes, it is completely alright to laugh at your child. 

A Year End Review

Every year I take a look back at all that the year brought and share a few highlights.  Sometimes I focus on just the good, sometimes I focus on the most memorable, and other times I focus on the things that I have pictures of on Facebook.  That is my life in a nutshell.  Sometimes good, sometimes simply memorable, and other times I can't remember it all unless I am reminded.  On Facebook.  This year i will try to do a little of each.

We started the year with a family party that lasted until 6 AM.  For most of us.  Like me, and the big kids.  January also brought snow, and David's third birthday.  We had many days off in the first half of the school year and tried to buckle down and get things done in the second half.  But I had extreme morning sickness often, so it was hard.

February rolled around, and we were still trying to push through school.  We had a a nice visit from Uncle Dave, however I spend some of it in the hospital.  More morning sickness.  But the rest of the time was movies, games, the Science Center, and Chick Fil A. 

March was another long month of morning sickness and school work.  My school work, school work with the kids, and observation hours.  We started up our homeschool co-op classes again, and the CLP play held auditions and began practices.  We did community service, and lots of it!  The days were getting much nicer as we prepared to have our Easter cantata and celebrate Easter.

April brought Easter, Honk Jr., a cantata, Remembering Adam show, and more co-op classes.  April for us is always a time of performing!  Andy had a few shows, too.  My morning sickness was easing up and I was headed into a nice spring and beginning of summer without any problems other than being busy and tired. 

May started with Honk Jr at CLP, the end of co-op, shows for Andy, and yet another behavior specialist for Faith.  We had a huge yard sale and took a trip to the Creation Museum.    We also got to catch a movie at Sarah and Anna's outside.  School was finishing up for the kids and we were scrambling to complete things before the end of the month.

June was a fun month, and quite busy!  Andy had shows, we finished school, and took a few mini vacations.  First up, though, was a fun family day at my dad's power plant learning more about what he does and what the plant does to generate power.  Contrary to my high school belief, he is not a spy.  Or is that what he wants us to think??  We got to see Tony in Cats, we did community service, and we celebrated Father's Day early because Andy and Isaac went to Sandbox Camp. We had our year end evaluations. That was only half the month!  After Sandbox Camp we took the kids camping for 11 days!   We also got to see a Curve game.  During camp my nice trouble free time of pregnancy wrapped up and I was taken by ambulance to the ER with heat exhaustion and the beginnings of my high blood pressure problems.

We came home from camp on July first only to turn around and take the girls back to Pony and Swim Camp.  The boys and I had some fun while hey were gone.  The week after picking the girls up my blood pressure became enough of a problem that I was on bed rest.  for most of the month.  Missing birthday parties, VBS, and summer.  I did sneak to Spirit Fest, and one day of VBS to ward off the unending, mind numbing boredom of bed rest.  And the messy house that I could do nothing about.  We spend some time doing school early to keep the kids occupied, and Angel became the head chef of the Raehl household.  I had an overnight hospital stay, and we did not get to have a birthday party for Faith.

August brought more hospital trips, and I finally had enough bed rest.  We had a birthday party for Faith the first weekend, and on our anniversary we had our sweet Micah!  I was finally feeling better, and got an awesome gift, my sweet son!  The SC Raehl family came to meet Micah, and I began to dig our house out from under about five weeks of bed rest.  We enjoyed the rest of summer with a trip to Lakemont, a family reunion, and began to look towards the new school year. 

September came so fast!  We celebrated the month's birthdays, including a trip to Slinky for Isaac's birthday.  I began the kids school in full force, and my observation hours, too.  We had a few field trips, and Andy had several shows.  the girls began taking baton lessons.  We were still trying to catch up from my bed rest. 

October was just as busy with baton, co-op, classes at IUP, choir in preparation for Christmas, and youth group meetings.  I had more observation hours, and the countdown to my student teaching is on!  Angel had her birthday party and then we went bowling.

November rolled around with more of the same activities, plus Thanksgiving!  And of course, Black Friday!  Although my crew was thinned a bit this year we had a blast, as usual.  Angel really enjoyed her second year, and I still had to call Josh for directions.

December brought snow, Christmas, and the end of this looong year.  It is the first time that we have reached our halfway point before Christmas, so we celebrate by taking a long school break to prepare for Christmas.  We made tons of cookies, wrapped presents, decorate, and then ended up in the hospital with Angel and a severe stomach virus.  But it is the end of the year, we are beginning to feel better, and soon 2013 will bring more surprises, more joy, and more laughter.  We are ready, bring it on 2013!!

Defcon 5

The girls have been at camp since Sunday.  I am swimming in a sea of testosterone, surrounded by my boys, my husband, and even carrying a son.  It is interesting around here.  I grew up with no sisters and four brothers, so I should be used to this, but it is not something that females are supposed to get used to, I think.  It is why we tend to travel in packs, for our own protection.

Usually when I have something to gt done my girls bustle around, seeming to instinctively know what I mean when I say something stupid like put your laundry in the trash.  They assume that I mean toss the dryer sheet and put away your clothes, and they do.  My sons, however, follow my directions exactly.  So I find myself repeating what I thought I already said.  A whole bunch. 

If we are doing laundry my girls know that switch the laundry is a multi-step process that involves opening the dryer, removing laundry and placing it into a basket, opening the washer, moving clothing from the washer to the dryer, tossing in a dryer sheet, closing the dryer door and hitting the start button.  They then at times go a step further and add more dirty laundry to the washer, with laundry detergent, and turn it on.  After this, they carry up the clean.  Now, the girls are older, but have been doing this for years.  The boys idea of switching laundry involves moving piles of clothing around so it looks like less dirty laundry, riding dirty laundry down the steps, and playing in the formally full baskets.

Today, I declared laundry day. We have a mountain of dirty towels, as always, plus tons of blankets, sleeping bags, and quilts from camp.  Not that in these hot days and nights we will be needing them, but I would like them cleaned and put away to make room for the landfill that is going to arrive when the girls get home from a week at camp. 

I have already done several loads today, and reached the point of washing the sleeping bags.  This is where it gets interesting.  We do not allow the boys to use any heavy machinery, power tools, or even anything more dangerous than a butter knife without supervision.  I do not have them run the washer or dryer, mostly not because they do not know how, but because I can not be sure what they put in, laundry, toys, plastics, crayons, the cat, each other... 

As I was, umm, indisposed, the washer began the spin cycle.  With a heavy sleeping bag inside.  It was off balance.  David started screaming.  Isaac declared that we reached Def con 5 because the whole house was going to shake apart.  He was running around making siren noises and trying to evacuate the house.  From the bathroom I am yelling at them to calm down, which never helps, I know, but it was all I could do at the time. They ran to the washing machine.  I ran out of the bathroom as only an 8 month pregnant woman with a broken toe and sprained ankle can.  (That is a different story altogether, and not as exciting.)  They were already running back up the steps after "fixing" the problem.  They opened the washer, saw that the clothes were still in water, thankfully, because they normally would not have stopped to notice such a small detail, so they figured that the load was not done.  They added much more laundry detergent, and restarted the cycle.  Which is better than flopping the already heavy, now dripping wet sleeping bag on the floor.

So in about 40 minutes, I am sure that we will reach Def con 5.  Again.  This time I plan on intercepting before the sleeping bag disintegrates from an overload of laundry detergent and too much time in the washer.  I may have to go sit in front of the washer in about 35 minutes to head them off.  Or we will have  pre-lunch ice cream to distract them.  I vote ice cream.  And then, maybe a nap.

Are ALL these children yours??

Yesterday was a lovely day.  All the kids, plus an niece, had a great time playing outside.  But, the kids had some money just burning a hole in their little pockets and really wanted to go to the candy store.  We put the preschoolers in strollers and walked to the candy store for some snacks and a nice, cold drink.  A pregnant lady pushing a stroller, a preteen pushing another stroller, and two school aged children walking.  They kids were all given a limit in the store and bartered with each other, traded parts of snacks, and decided to share some things to squeak in under the budget.  We were there for quite a while. 

As we walked up to pay, each child paying and getting things bagged up individually, there was a lady in line behind us.  She waited quite a while to make her small purchase as my children counted out pennies and traded coins.  I offered to let her go first, but when all my children stepped out of the way she told us to go ahead.  We left the store, and began to get everyone settled with snacks, drinks, and in the strollers for the short walk home.  And then it happened.  The lady came out of the store and asked me the question I always hate. 

"Are all these children yours?"

I try to instruct my children to be kind, so I often have to stifle the snide answers that I can think in an effort to practice what I preach.  All the little eyes turned to me.  I sighed internally, smiled, and said, "Only four of them.  One is my niece." 

She patted my belly, which I usually hate, looked into my eyes and smiled.  "God bless you and your lovely family.  Cherish these days.  They go by so fast."  And then she walked away. 

My eyes teared up.  I am so used to defending our 'large' family to everyone that starts the conversation in such a manner.  I get frustrated with others because I do not think that we are a large family, there are only four children.  To me large is more like eight, ten children.  Which also sounds fine to me.  Also, Any frazzled mother who is doing their very best for their children can tell you that a negative comment in the middle of the day seems so judgemental, and stacked up the comments begin to crush your spirit. 

Yet her kind eyes and sweet comment refreshed me much more than my cold drink ever could.  I do cherish everyday.  I already see it slipping away too fast.  Walking through the grocery store and seeing a couple of children whining for something to their haggard mother I smile.  Seeing people lining up their children to fill their plates at family parties and church events, again, I smile wistfully.  Sure, I still have a preschooler and will soon have another baby.  But the older three are more independent, can take care of themselves, and a part of me longingly remembers three pairs of tiny hands hanging on my shirt as we go to the buffet, cross the street, or walk into church.  And now I seen them skipping ahead, texting friends, laughing and talking with each other, and I squeeze David's hand gently, holding on tightly while I still can, while he still wants me too.  . 

My biggest fear is that when I am behind a family with children counting out pennies I will wish that I took the time.  Time for watching clouds, catching bugs, painting nails, building forts, developing the relationship that will encourage them to call me everyday, count me among their friends, bring me grandchildren to play with.  So many other things, worthy things, pull at me for my time, time I only have so much of.  And I have none to spare.  Not if I want to look back and smile, knowing that each day was full of laughter, love, and joy because I choose to spend my time wisely.  And I don't want to miss a minute.

Confession Time

I have a confession.  I hate cleaning.  My house shows it.  There are so many other ways I can find that are very valuable ways to spend my time.  My school.  Home school.  Reading, games, puzzles, activities, crafts with the kids.  Backyard fires. Long bike rides.  Walks.  Movie night. 

When we do clean, it is with the kids too.  They do dishes, laundry, sweep, scrub, vacuum, and dust.  We work together to get it done as quickly as possible.  And it looks like the kids helped.  They are still learning.

There is always clean laundry stacked on the couch.  And crafting remnants on the floor.  And Legos everywhere.  Game pieces on the living room floor, school work on the dining room table, and glitter all over.  We have toys on the floor, books on the love seat, and movies stacked up by the DVD player.  There is at least one fake bug somewhere in every room of our house.

You see, we live here.  All the time.  And we do school here.  There are some hyper kids, some slow to complete task kids, and some kids who are much bigger and are just trying to enjoy the little ones while they are still little.  And waiting for some little woodland critters to help has not yet paid off.  So we dust in between subjects, scoop up toys so we can vacuum, and shift school work to eat together.  Regardless of how clean, not or so clean it is, I always step on or hit the bugs, just in case...

How very odd...

Pregnancy does odd things to a woman.  To her body, to her mental state, to her emotional state, and even to her family.  There are things other people notice by a glance, like my freaky hair, my double wide booty, or a belly that looks 6 months but is only 15 weeks.  Then there are the things that my family notices, like the fact that I no longer drink coffee everyday, that peanut butter make me sick, and that I am oversensitive about things like babies and Batman.  Then there are the things I notice, like I have to go to the bathroom every half hour all night long, that I sweat doing even the most mundane things, or that I eat like a hobbit.  My feet grow wider, my nose gets bigger, my hair is curly one day and straight the next. 

Pregnancy has made my family extra irritating.  For example, they do crazy things like eat the last of the chocolate, drink the last of the water, or breathe at me.  Or, while  I am sleeping they crawl into my dreams and do irritating stuff so that I wake up grumpy.  Or they do horrible things like ask me where I would like to eat for supper, which makes me cry.  Or they are really nice to me when I am mad for no rational reason. 

Then there are the times that I crave some specific food, only to make it and gag over the way it looks.  Or those times when I want two foods that will never go good together, like chocolate ice cream and lemonade.  The times I will die if I do not have a Sheetz hot dog right now, even if I was sound asleep five seconds ago. 

There are those times when I cry at the baby on the baby wipe box. Or because Andy told me that I am beautiful when pregnant.  And he did not even mention that I am also crazy. Or I cry because my son told me that Batman is not real.  Or when I cry because it is Tuesday.  Or reading a poem about a bird to my son, or a birthday cake book to my other son.  Or when I am talking to my daughter about Narnia, or dinosaurs. I cry when I do not even know that I am crying. At first my children found it alarming.  Now they laugh behind their hands.  In a different room.  Which also makes me cry.

But the worst has to be that somewhere, deep down, there is a remnant of the rational me that sees all of this crazy.  And she protests.  And she tries to reason with my hormone saturated brain.  She struggles to make sense of my tears, my fears, my craving, and my brand of crazy.  She knows that Batman is (probably) not real.  She knows that of course the baby on the wipes box is cute.  And that it is actually me who is irritating, not my family.  She tries to explain that it is ok if they eat the chocolate, because it makes me sick anyway.  And that I do cry too much, and when it was not me, say it was my mother, I found it funny too.  But she is too quiet to hear over my craziness, and I am the only one who sees her daily. 

She also knows that soon this will all be over.  The world will not end.  People do not die from being pregnant, even if they also homeschool.  There will be a wonderful tiny baby, and we will laugh and cry and be a family forever.  And, very importantly, she knows that soon I will be able to stomach chocolate.  And a daily cup of coffee.  But I will be reluctant to give up my nap.

The Contents of a Lady's Purse

I have heard it said you can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her purse. If that is true, I am in big trouble. It is not the odd little things that have been planted there by my children for me to hold “just for a sec”. I had odd stuff before that.

Regardless of how many children I have had, including the while I had no children of my own, I always had a few little toys,crayons and paper, and a weenie whistle. The whistle was for sentimental reasons. I have even had a rock in there, prechildren. It was a prayer rock for me to remember to pray for a good friend’s salvation. I still have it and am still praying for her. And always a broken pair of sunglasses. And a card with two penguins, one of whom has a fish eating his head. It says “Relax, God is in charge.”

Then come children. And now I have four card games, a seashell magnet shaped like a fish, two salt packets, broken pencils, a piece of bark that was chewed off a tree by a beaver, a pen that leaked, darts for a gun, an etch-a-sketch key chain with a key to nothing, a pile of receipts, shot record books, coins from a foreign county I have never been to, a few Legos, and a stick. That is in addition to my wallet, a hairbrush, lipstick, a lipstick tube form lipstick Isaac melted by placing it on the heater, nail polish, hair clips, a nail kit, tiny scissors, a tiny flashlight, a tiny screwdriver, reading glasses, broken sun glasses, non-broken sunglasses, a granola bar, two packs of crackers, baby wipes, a diaper, lotion, hand sanitizer, a bottle of water and a Ziploc baggie of pennies that says Isaac.

And I still have to say those are not the things that get me. Not at all. Because most of those can be expected from the bag I carry when I have the children I have. No, the part that bothers me is even worse. Since having my first child I have had the most disgusting things land in, drop in, flop in, drip in, and magically appear in my purse. I expect a certain amount of crumbs, especially with the crackers. But I have had an ice cream cone, milk, Pepsi, a sandwich, chewed up gum, and a dirty diaper. ( I had no where else to put that! Mall change rooms should always have a trash can. Always.) Live bugs, dead bugs, fake bugs, something slimy I never even asked what it was. Fish bait that got loose. A mushy brown banana. I hope it was a banana.

All I can think of is the episode of Mad About you when the flighty sister, Lisa, got her purse mixed up with Jamie. Lisa was all pulled together for the day because of the contents of Jamie’s purse. She was on time, functional and got a job. And Jamie’s life spiraled out of control because of the junk in her sister’s purse. She was late everywhere, lost everything, and was a wreck by the end of the day. It was like each woman’s personality was tied to the contents of her purse.

So if the contents of my purse tell you something about me, I am mushy, gushy, slimy, crumby, broken, odd, and smell slightly like bad milk. And there may also be a sign popping out that says “Stay Away!!”

Blame It on the Parents

All of these years we have had the same, shall we say, interesting situations occur in and around our home, and other places we frequent.  I have been thinking that these oddities are a side effect of our homeschooling adventure.  In the past few months I am beginning to question this hypothesis.  I now think I should blame the parents in this particular household.  Not to point any fingers, but I am leaning to the male parental unit as the instigator in many cases.

For your reading pleasure, here are the top oddities that are NOT the result of homeschooling, but of parenting.  You may feel free to infer which are my husband and which are myself.  I am hoping at least one is very easy to decipher.  Sadly, it is not #9.

14.  When looking for my son we look on the ceiling.

13.  We have all gone in public in costume.  Not at Halloween.

12.  We all have a written list of our superpowers.

11.  At the first snowfall the children built a ziggurat instead of a snowman.  They used empty containers ranging in size between a trash can and a bowl, which has never returned.

10.  At a Christmas party my eldest daughter organized the children into a circle for circle time.  Then had a game for them to play. She did not have a craft prepared, but she later said she thought of one after time to open presents but no one was interested.

9.  My toddler sings his name.  And whatever he happens to be doing.  For instance:  "David.  Farting. DAV-ID.  is FART-ING.  DAVIDISFARTING!!!!!" Repeatedly.

8.  When told we were going to have a healthy snack my children all said: "Alright! Ice Cream!!!"

7.  When in public my children line up and follow me like little ducks.  With quacking included.

6.  There was a fake mustache stuck to the steering wheel of my van for weeks.  It relocated to the dashboard, then disappeared.

5.  We have at least 6 rubber chickens in a variety of sizes.  They have names.  And only one is a performing chicken.

4.  The mustache was later found frozen to the driveway.

3.  Science is everywhere, from the grass growing in the bathroom sink to the mushrooms growing in the basement.  However, I can not grow a houseplant on purpose to save my life.

2.  My family frequently bursts into song and dance.  Even in public.

1.  For Christmas my daughter asked for a dragon and a Barbie.  She got both, and an attack bat, which is her favorite.

***Some say ODD, but I like to say FUN!!***

Things I Do Not Understand

There are somethings that my kids do that I totally understand, like avoiding bedtime.  They don’t want to miss anything, which I  understand since I frequently stay up late doing all kids of crazy fun stuff like writing papers on illegal immigration, stripping paint, washing dishes, folding laundry, and , if I am feeling all kinds of crazy, scrubbing the kitchen floor, a type of fun that I can only handle every so often.  Who could sleep with all that fun and excitement occurring under the same roof?  (In all honesty I do have to confess that as soon as we tuck them in Andy runs for the ice cream.)

They avoid school like it may in fact give them the plague.  That I also understand, as evidenced by the fact that David is taking a rare morning nap so I am blogging.  Instead of doing school, mine or theirs.

And I even understand the avoidance of certain activities that I enjoy, such as napping, taking a bath, and reading.  These things all take away from the job they should be doing, playing.  I get that, because most of those things I do for play, especially reading.  And yet, there are some activities others do for play that I do not enjoy, such as bungee jumping, sky diving, cooking, and golf.
What I do not understand is the effort some of my children will go to to avoid the things they are required to do.  For example, putting dirty laundry in the hamper.  To me, it takes much more effort to hide dirty underpants in creative locations than to toss them in a laundry basket that is conveniently located directly beside you.  Or to running to a different floor of the house to toss a toy into the closet instead of walking to the next room and putting it in the bin.  Or putting the trash in your hand directly outside of the trash can when it is the same amount of effort to put it in.  Or using a napkin that is right by your elbow to clean up the four drops of milk on the table instead of running to the bathroom and getting four bath towels that are still warm from the dryer and tossing them somewhere close to the spill.

The same children who spent ten minutes jumping on bubble wrap are too tired to run to the bathroom to get a baby wipe refill when I am up to my elbows in a dirty diaper.  They jump on the couch while watching a movie but can not get up to push play on the DVD player.  I have a child who will get out bread, peanut butter, a plate, and a knife and come find me instead of making her own sandwich.  I have a child who will bring a gallon of milk and a cup all over the house looking for me instead of pouring it himself.  This is the same child who will climb to the top of the fridge to get a piece of gum, but will not open the fridge to get his own yogurt.

I was never the child who would rather do something half way.  I was always a perfectionist.  It was all or nothing.  Now, most cleaning activities were nothing, but if I had to do them I certainly did not hide my toys in a different room.  I hide them in the same room, like under my bed.  I would never exert more effort to avoid an activity than it took to complete it.  I had a brother who would have walked to the ends of the earth for a new video game, but would not walk to the trash can to put anything in.  (Oh, you, and your wife, know who you are…)  He would do anything to get out of something he was supposed to do, no matter how much effort it took to avoid it.  That always drove me crazy.  Apparently I was standing too close to him when my mother cursed him to have children just like him, cause it effected me as well.  And it still drives me crazy.

Thankfulness

Since having children I have found there are things I am thankful for that I always took for granted or never quite appericated, like showers.  There are things I never would have though as things to be thankful for, they were always so basic, like pencils that stay where I left them.  And then there are the things  I am thankful for simple because they keep my children entertained.  That being said, here is a list of all the things I can think of that right now that I am thankful for that I have taken advantage of or not used properly in my life pre-children.

1.  Paper cups.  No, I do not mean drinking out of them.  David loves to stack them, unstack them, and restack them.  This has kept him entertained for over 15 minutes at a time.  He gets so excited if I have a stack of one color with only a few of a different color thrown in.  It’s like finding gum in your lollipop.  Amazing.  As for the 15 minutes of distraction, even more than amazing.

2.� Tape.  Silly me, I thought it was for such mundane things as holding paper together or torturing cats.  Nope, it can also be used to tape your brother’s mouth shut, turn your whole body into a robot, or collect fingerprints.  All those uses, and I was simply taping paper.  And another reason to be thankful for tape is that it comes in a two pack at the Dollar Tree.

3.  Live birds in WalMart.  When I worked there they were irritating.  Now they are the ultimate distraction.  Kid wants a toy, candy, or huge flyswatter??  No problem, simply point out the bird perched above their heads and they forget to throw a fit.  Or maybe this only works with kids who have ADHD.  Either way, I am covered.  I now love those birds and would smuggle them in if they were not there.

4.  Pennies.  I used to only use the pile of change stacked up on Andy’s dresser for vending machines, mostly at the ER, or milk and Pepsi between paydays. And I always left the pennies.  No more, I tell you.  Now I can dump the pennies on the floor and tell Isaac there is money hidden somewhere in his room and he can have it all if his room is clean.  He cleans up and I do not even have to yell once.  At him.  Has never worked for the girls though.

5.  Chocolate chips for cookies.  I hesitate to include this item on a list of things I have only been thankful for in the last decade, but it has new meanings for me, so I chose to include it.  We use chocolate chips for a number of things that have nothing to to with baking.  We use them for math to add, subtract, multiply, divide, show fractions, etc.  And then that kid gets to eat them.  Score one for less tears at math.  And I also give them to David one at a time to keep him quiet.  This only works in small intervals, because he never stops talking, but I take what I can get.

6.  The number 3.  It is magic.  All I have to do is start counting and by 3 they do whatever I was asking them to do. Has never worked for the numbers 1 or 2.  Three really is the magic number. Yet another thing I should have learned from Schoolhouse Rock.

7. Scarves.  I currently have at least three I am using daily.  One ties the fridge shut, one for the pantry, and one for the cupboard under the sink.  I used to use rubber bands, but little fingers have actually learned to pick them off already.  Soon he will master the complexities of the knot, but for now my food and feminine products are safe.

8.  Coffe cans.  Silly me I thought they were for holding coffe or playing kick the can.  Nope.  They current hold legos, flowers, seashells, and live worms- not in the same can.  And that is just in my dining room.  One from Sam’s is the perfect size for David to wear on his head.

9.  The words “Do Not…”.  They have a mystical power that forces the child hearing them to try it at least once.  I used to think this meant I should never say them.  As in: “Do not hit your sister.”  “What, you mean like this?!”  Now I just follow those powerful words with things I secretly want them to do.  For example, yesterday before church the kids were piddling around instead of finishing breakfast.  I simply said:  “Do not finish eating, we are out of time.”  They inhaled all the food, slammed back their drinks, and were done.  HA!

10. Clean undies.  As a child my mother always told me to wear clean undies everyday.  I do the same for my children.  Despite enjoying having clean undies myself, I know know they serve a greater purpose than hygiene.  If they each have six pairs of undies, and change them everyday, I know how long I can go without washing clothes just by taking a quick peek in any kid’s underwear drawer.

Questions

There are a multitude of questions I deal with on a daily basis.  Either questions I ask the kids, or the more likely and frequent questions the kids ask me.  The questions I have been asked vary.  Sometimes they are normal school questions.  Other times they are more unique and I am not sure anyone else has ever had to answer.  I have begun to see another category of questions in my life.  These questions are ones that I may ask, either out loud or internally, but do not really want the answered. So, for your reading pleasure, here are a few things today that I caught myself asking but really did not want to know.

1. What is that squishy thing I just stepped in?  (It was orange, but still, I do not care.  I just cleaned it and my foot and walked away.)

2.  What kind of liquid is on the floor by the toilet?  (One may assume the answer to this question is obvious, but you never know around here.)

3.  Why would you ever think to do that?  (Immediately following Isaac almost knocking his eye out with a rubber band. In case you are wondering, he just wanted to know how bad it would hurt.)

4.  Why is your science paper in the fridge?  ( I told her to put it in her science folder.  Which is not even in the kitchen.)

5.  What is this??  (I still do not know.  It was yucky.  It no longer lives here.)

6.  What is that smell?  (Didn’t ever hear an answer.  Lit a candle.)

7.  What were you thinking??  (This time as Isaac had wedged his head behind a bookshelf.  He wanted to see what was back there.)

8.  What were you thinking??  (Isaac got his arms and legs stuck in the crib railing.  Leg, leg, arm, arm.  All at the same time.  I should have taken a picture.  The answer- I just wanted to see if I fit.)

9.  Whatever would possess you to cover your whole body in green marker?  (Answer:  I didn’t.  Faith helped.)

10.  What did I just sit on?  (Sticky tack is a much better answer to that than silly putty or play dough.  I was luck today.)

The number one thing I learned today, besides the fact that I really don’t want to know, is that I may never understand boys, no matter how old I get