We've traveled, we've destroyed, we've decorated, we've been crazy. So, in honor of the season and my current surroundings I decided to re-write the lyrics to an endearing Christmas song.
I'm dreaming of a clean house
Just like the one I used to know
Where the counter top glistens
and children listen
when I say...I just told you "no!"
I'm dreaming of a laundry maid
with every piece I throw in whites
May my rags be stainless and bright
and may every shirt be folded right
Oh, yes, I'm dreaming of a clean house
with every scrub I make with might
May my home be cheery and bright
and may all the chores get done by night.
Ok. I'm semi-motivated. Now, where in the world did my maid and nanny run off to??
Friday, December 2, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Kid Sensors
So it's been a few days and now that my brain is semi-functioning again, I feel the urge to address Kid Sensors. All kids have them. Said sensors are activated at conception, and my mother would argue that they stay active for the life of the child.
Real quick, let me say that I have been celebrating hard at my own pity party this week. I'm sick. (This is the part where you feel sorry for me. Thanks!) Not deathly sick, but sick enough that I actually ventured to a doctor's office. I only trek there if I'm growing a human, giving birth to that human, need an organ removed or if I think I might be dying. I mean, why pay a babysitter and risk contracting more germs when my sister is a doctor (well..VERY close to being one) and loves me enough not to block me from her texting plan?? Exactly! Now, my meds are working and a miracle has occurred...I feel better!
Back to the Kid Sensors. My feeling like crud this week has really sent my kids' sensors into an unprecedented frenzy. They just KNOW. Soon after conception the sensors cause the baby to send a surge of hormones into your system, which in turn will make you puke, gag, swoon or make inappropriate sounds at the most inopportune moments. Like, when you walk into your favorite restaurant feeling all excited about chowing down on your favorite grub. You are super psyched until you actually smell the food and have to run like Jesse Owens straight to the restroom. (Gold medals are not awarded, unfortunately) Once in the bathroom that you rudely shoved and yelled at strangers to get to, you will of course smell the inevitable bathroom smell and the air freshener that smells worse than the regular bathroom smells...at this point you will either make it to a stall, or not. Another time the prenatal kid sensor is activated is when you are out of laundry detergent. Mom will break into a nervous sweat just thinking about the heaving, jaw locking and mouth watering that will certainly occur on the cleaning aisle. Keep in mind that the cleaning aisle also happens to be the farthest aisle from the bathroom at any store. Yeah, they start early. Then, they start to move. It's the sweetest feeling in the world and one thing I miss about pregnancy. However, those little flutters quickly become jabs that makes the mother envision what a prize boxer or gymnast her baby will be. The blasted kid sensors let the child know just the right (or wrong) time to crack one of mom's ribs, do a judi flip off her bladder or use his foot to test the sturdiness of her cervix. Whether it is in the middle of an important conversation that doesn't warrant a "uh humph!" from his mother, or a nice bladder kick 20 minutes after the 5th pit stop, 2 hours into a 4 hour road trip. This bladder kick may, or may not result in an emergency stop at Walmart for new apparel. So...for 10 months they test those sensors and get them primed for life in the outside world.
Then that sweet little bundle gets here. Ohhh, you're SO in love but it doesn't take very long to figure out why God, along with blessing parents with children, also instills in them an unimaginable love for their children. It's also quickly realized why He makes them so stinkin' cute. THE SENSORS!! Babies innately know to cry, mess a diaper, pitch an unwarranted fit or even wake up from a very deep and peaceful sleep anytime their parents (mainly their mother) goes to the bathroom, sits down to eat, has just settled into a relaxing bath (possibly the first one in a couple days), any time her head touches a pillow, and any time the bedroom door locks for...you know..."that." They can even sense that the phone is going to ring 3 full seconds before it actually does and the sound waves' interaction with the kid sensors can lead to some really intense antics. Those kid sensors, man! You can't deactivate them. Striking the child's bottom only fuels it. You just have to accept that those sweet little angels can, and more than likely will turn evil any time their parents are about to enjoy something. I should mention that they are also activated by crowds and in public settings. You know...whenever your child/children can embarrass you the most.
So, the few days I've spent in an de-energized, medicated fog my kids have used their sensors to the fullest. I still love them more than anything in this world, but I am going to add a few pictures of what Kid Sensors can lead otherwise sweet children to do.
Most importantly...this is why it's impossible for me to stay mad
Real quick, let me say that I have been celebrating hard at my own pity party this week. I'm sick. (This is the part where you feel sorry for me. Thanks!) Not deathly sick, but sick enough that I actually ventured to a doctor's office. I only trek there if I'm growing a human, giving birth to that human, need an organ removed or if I think I might be dying. I mean, why pay a babysitter and risk contracting more germs when my sister is a doctor (well..VERY close to being one) and loves me enough not to block me from her texting plan?? Exactly! Now, my meds are working and a miracle has occurred...I feel better!
Back to the Kid Sensors. My feeling like crud this week has really sent my kids' sensors into an unprecedented frenzy. They just KNOW. Soon after conception the sensors cause the baby to send a surge of hormones into your system, which in turn will make you puke, gag, swoon or make inappropriate sounds at the most inopportune moments. Like, when you walk into your favorite restaurant feeling all excited about chowing down on your favorite grub. You are super psyched until you actually smell the food and have to run like Jesse Owens straight to the restroom. (Gold medals are not awarded, unfortunately) Once in the bathroom that you rudely shoved and yelled at strangers to get to, you will of course smell the inevitable bathroom smell and the air freshener that smells worse than the regular bathroom smells...at this point you will either make it to a stall, or not. Another time the prenatal kid sensor is activated is when you are out of laundry detergent. Mom will break into a nervous sweat just thinking about the heaving, jaw locking and mouth watering that will certainly occur on the cleaning aisle. Keep in mind that the cleaning aisle also happens to be the farthest aisle from the bathroom at any store. Yeah, they start early. Then, they start to move. It's the sweetest feeling in the world and one thing I miss about pregnancy. However, those little flutters quickly become jabs that makes the mother envision what a prize boxer or gymnast her baby will be. The blasted kid sensors let the child know just the right (or wrong) time to crack one of mom's ribs, do a judi flip off her bladder or use his foot to test the sturdiness of her cervix. Whether it is in the middle of an important conversation that doesn't warrant a "uh humph!" from his mother, or a nice bladder kick 20 minutes after the 5th pit stop, 2 hours into a 4 hour road trip. This bladder kick may, or may not result in an emergency stop at Walmart for new apparel. So...for 10 months they test those sensors and get them primed for life in the outside world.
Then that sweet little bundle gets here. Ohhh, you're SO in love but it doesn't take very long to figure out why God, along with blessing parents with children, also instills in them an unimaginable love for their children. It's also quickly realized why He makes them so stinkin' cute. THE SENSORS!! Babies innately know to cry, mess a diaper, pitch an unwarranted fit or even wake up from a very deep and peaceful sleep anytime their parents (mainly their mother) goes to the bathroom, sits down to eat, has just settled into a relaxing bath (possibly the first one in a couple days), any time her head touches a pillow, and any time the bedroom door locks for...you know..."that." They can even sense that the phone is going to ring 3 full seconds before it actually does and the sound waves' interaction with the kid sensors can lead to some really intense antics. Those kid sensors, man! You can't deactivate them. Striking the child's bottom only fuels it. You just have to accept that those sweet little angels can, and more than likely will turn evil any time their parents are about to enjoy something. I should mention that they are also activated by crowds and in public settings. You know...whenever your child/children can embarrass you the most.
So, the few days I've spent in an de-energized, medicated fog my kids have used their sensors to the fullest. I still love them more than anything in this world, but I am going to add a few pictures of what Kid Sensors can lead otherwise sweet children to do.
 |
| They had dumped what was left of the Fruit Loops on to the table and Jack is doing naked gymnastics. I will mention here that he was fully clothed 3 minutes before this picture was made. |
 |
| Just...wow |
 |
| Levi's artwork on the bedroom wall. At least he chose a color that coordinates well with the quilt Nana made for Wyatt... |
 |
| Jack must have had issues picking out which pajamas to wear |
Most importantly...this is why it's impossible for me to stay mad
Monday, September 12, 2011
A Grumpy Mother's perspective on T.V
"I love youuu, You love meee, We're a hap-py familyyy..." It's okay, you aren't a loser...everybody knows it. Whether you have kids, know one or have ever been one...you know that song. You also know what critically acclaimed (ha!) television show it belongs to and chances are you even grin when you hear it. Maybe it gives you warm fuzzies. Maybe it brings back memories of your childhood or the childhood of sweet toddlers who are now in being tormented by their teenage years. Or perhaps, one of those long-lost Barney bashing jokes from the 90's floods back to your memory. Either way, just know it's completely cool that you know the words and catch yourself humming it from time to time.
Do you see where I'm going with this? For whatever reason my boys decided Barney and Friends was in order for the morning. I guess teaching Jack to control Netflix with the Wii remote wasn't the best time-saving idea I've ever had, but whatever. It goes without saying that I'm willing to endure about anything between the hours of 6 and 8 a.m as long as it will make them happy. I just need a chance to emerge from my consistent morning plague of extreme grumpiness. So, there they were as I sipped my first cup of coffee, dancing and giggling as they happily absorbed overstuffed, multi-colored, biped dinosaurs and overzealous tweens sing, dance and give dramatically rehearsed lines into their innocent little imaginations. Those little tykes were still having a grand ol' time 30 minutes later when I spilled my freshly perfected third cup of coffee over onto the stove, into the burner and said a very un-Barney like word. I listened to them squeal and giggle...I melted a little bit. As the abundance of caffeine and French Vanilla creamer was beginning to dissolve my evilness, I had a thought. Why does that great big, lovable purple dinosaur get such a bad rap? I mean, really? For one, he obviously makes children happy. It takes them to a place they have yet to discover through the use of alcohol, caffeine or nicotine. It teaches them to use their imaginations, to sing, dance and to get along with others despite any differences. Most importantly, it teaches them that if they hop around maniacally, tilt their heads at unimaginable angles, grin awkwardly,shake their heads and blink too many times while they speak like robots on crack, that they too can achieve the satisfaction of achieving anything they set their minds to. So, please people...let's lay off Barney and let the kids rock on!
Since I feel I've done a satisfactory job of defending Barney, let's attempt a few other of the favorite shows in our house.
Thomas and Friends: I have no negative feelings whatsoever towards these talking trains or their gin soaked boss, Sir Topham Hat. They rock..and roll down the tracks all over the Island of Sodor; spreading goodwill and cockiness wherever they venture. Those little engines consistently instill a sense of being 'very useful,' all the while expressing the importance of over-inflated self-esteem and self-worth. Tuning into Thomas makes children happy. Wouldn't you be happy to have adventures like they do?? They overcome obstacles, dirt and grime as they steam around to Farmer McColl's farm, Tidmouth sheds or Brendam docks. The best episodes even have them find hidden, magical lands and long lost engines when they stray off their track or misbehave. Great stuff!!
Pingu: If you haven't experienced the adventures of Pingu, you are really missing out on a spectacular headache. Jack and Levi have recently discovered this show (again...blasted Netflix) and it is off. the. hook!! I can't say for sure what positive influence it has on my children. However, I can say that they thoroughly enjoy this family of claymation penguins who do bizarre things and speak in a language not spoken in any corner of this planet. Fun stuff! (With a side of Advil!)
Transformers: Every little boy, or girl for that matter, needs to believe that any and every machine can, at any time, transform into a gigantic robot and either save the planet or wreak havoc on it. It's a rite of passage and I personally love the Transformers. Although, not too long ago Jack bluntly told me that the Swagger Wagon (our awesome minivan) was "not cool enough to be a Transformer." I cried. From laughing. This show brings happiness. It contains enough violence to prevent the 'sissyfication' our male youths but not enough to create a large hoards of violence hungry short people. Most importantly, it teaches that there are more to things and people "than meets the eye." So, Transform and Roooolll out!
Dora and Diego: Ohhh, Dora and Deigo. Bilingual cousins who rescue animals in trouble and/or are on a mission to complete some insane task. What's more, they can do this in a mere 24 minutes. Besides teaching children snippets of Spanish (I sincerely applaud this endeavour) they also teach them that you can, in fact, make it to the top of Tall Tall Mountain to toss the whiney and crying fallen star back up to his friend the moon. All you have to do is make it across the Grumpy Troll Bridge, around the Icky Sticky mud and get past the 40 foot dancing chicken. Next, they can rescue 10 grinning and friendly baby vipers from the sandpit! Here, all they have to do is simply pick the color the sweet little vipers' eyes glow in the dark. Then they have to scoop them up and successfully swing from vines without dropping the babies, falling to the death or smashing into a rock face. So, Vamanos chicos! Let's go achieve impossible tasks or fraternize with deadly, dangerous animals! Don't forget to load your backpack or rescue pack with things that would never ever fit in such a small package or that you would never have on hand in 'real life". "We can do it...nothing to it!"
All of this leads to the fact that I'm a grown-up and a cynical one at that. I do not believe that television is evil or that it really corrupts the minds of our young children. Despite my rants, I do like that my boys enjoy these shows. Well, maybe not that Pingu one...but the others are ok. I sincerely like the fact that they learn to believe in themselves, to reach for the stars in order to achieve the impossible. I love that these shows teach them to get along and find the best in others, whether they are like them or completely different. Most of all, I love that their imaginations get a work out and that they truly believe that inanimate objects can talk. All they have to do is just listen a little harder. Perhaps I should get off my bad mood and take a few pointers. I, myself, need to listen harder...for a little imagination never hurt a soul, but it sure can be good for one.
Do you see where I'm going with this? For whatever reason my boys decided Barney and Friends was in order for the morning. I guess teaching Jack to control Netflix with the Wii remote wasn't the best time-saving idea I've ever had, but whatever. It goes without saying that I'm willing to endure about anything between the hours of 6 and 8 a.m as long as it will make them happy. I just need a chance to emerge from my consistent morning plague of extreme grumpiness. So, there they were as I sipped my first cup of coffee, dancing and giggling as they happily absorbed overstuffed, multi-colored, biped dinosaurs and overzealous tweens sing, dance and give dramatically rehearsed lines into their innocent little imaginations. Those little tykes were still having a grand ol' time 30 minutes later when I spilled my freshly perfected third cup of coffee over onto the stove, into the burner and said a very un-Barney like word. I listened to them squeal and giggle...I melted a little bit. As the abundance of caffeine and French Vanilla creamer was beginning to dissolve my evilness, I had a thought. Why does that great big, lovable purple dinosaur get such a bad rap? I mean, really? For one, he obviously makes children happy. It takes them to a place they have yet to discover through the use of alcohol, caffeine or nicotine. It teaches them to use their imaginations, to sing, dance and to get along with others despite any differences. Most importantly, it teaches them that if they hop around maniacally, tilt their heads at unimaginable angles, grin awkwardly,shake their heads and blink too many times while they speak like robots on crack, that they too can achieve the satisfaction of achieving anything they set their minds to. So, please people...let's lay off Barney and let the kids rock on!
Since I feel I've done a satisfactory job of defending Barney, let's attempt a few other of the favorite shows in our house.
Thomas and Friends: I have no negative feelings whatsoever towards these talking trains or their gin soaked boss, Sir Topham Hat. They rock..and roll down the tracks all over the Island of Sodor; spreading goodwill and cockiness wherever they venture. Those little engines consistently instill a sense of being 'very useful,' all the while expressing the importance of over-inflated self-esteem and self-worth. Tuning into Thomas makes children happy. Wouldn't you be happy to have adventures like they do?? They overcome obstacles, dirt and grime as they steam around to Farmer McColl's farm, Tidmouth sheds or Brendam docks. The best episodes even have them find hidden, magical lands and long lost engines when they stray off their track or misbehave. Great stuff!!
All of this leads to the fact that I'm a grown-up and a cynical one at that. I do not believe that television is evil or that it really corrupts the minds of our young children. Despite my rants, I do like that my boys enjoy these shows. Well, maybe not that Pingu one...but the others are ok. I sincerely like the fact that they learn to believe in themselves, to reach for the stars in order to achieve the impossible. I love that these shows teach them to get along and find the best in others, whether they are like them or completely different. Most of all, I love that their imaginations get a work out and that they truly believe that inanimate objects can talk. All they have to do is just listen a little harder. Perhaps I should get off my bad mood and take a few pointers. I, myself, need to listen harder...for a little imagination never hurt a soul, but it sure can be good for one.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Trauma and Goodwill
Last night the boys got to stay up late. It was Friday night, after all. After a nice, wholesome dinner of Chef Boyardee and Apple Jacks with a side of Nick Jr, I got them all snuggled cozy in their beds. We had a short, but intense therapy session over the trauma I caused them by purging the toy box. You know...those toys they haven't touched in 6 months suddenly warrant the exclamatory "OH!! That's my FAVORITE!" Anyway, I was able to talk Jack off the ledge and we finished with prayers, ideas on Daddy's adventures (apparently they have scuba diving in Afghanistan) and a few sweet kisses.
Then, something wonderful happened. At 7:15 (Hey! Don't judge me, I DID say they got to stay up late,) I sat down in a nice, hot bath. Ahhhh. Peace and quiet. Although, I'm finding more and more that peace and quiet actually hurts my ears. So weird. I was just getting to the good part of my bath time dream, the one where I'm a size 8 and I'm eating a Cinnabon the size of my head, when I heard it. The deep breath Jack takes before he voices a question. I'm still trying to figure out how he learned to open doors. I thought smearing Vaseline on all of the door knobs would surely stop him. (That was a bad joke...we didn't really do that. We used baby oil) So, before he could speak I gave the typical mother prelude..."I'm going to count to 3 and you better be back in that bed!" I meant it. He meant to ask me a question, too. He won. He's way cuter! "Momma, why do my favorite toys have to leave this disaster of a house?" *Note to self: Be careful with descriptions of people, places and things in the future.* Then and there, with me in what was once a relaxing bath and Jack sitting in the bedroom floor out of sight of what could potentially be a more traumatizing view than the toys in the garbage bag, we discussed charity and goodwill. We discussed "Goodwill" in terms of it being a regular noun and also in terms of it being a proper noun...because that's where the "favorite toys" are going next week. I don't know how much he understood but I tried. We attempted this conversation a couple months ago over why he should eat the "Luckys" as well as the "Charms," but it was a waste of breath. Maybe now that he's 4, he'll get it. We shall see.
I'm going to take a little time here to mention my awesome husband. You will find that while he will show up in my posts, there probably won't be a lot written about him. It's not because I don't like him, because I do. A lot. He's my knight in desert cammies and a flak jacket. It's just that I'm one of those military wives that takes Operational Security to a ridiculous level. Better safe than sorry. Not that I think the 'bad guys' have any interest in what I write, but I don't want to chance giving them too much information about who I believe to be the greatest Marine EVER! He is my rock and it goes without saying that I would have absolutely no material without him. After all, he is the co-creator of my fodder!
Until next time, be happy and enjoy your weekend!
Then, something wonderful happened. At 7:15 (Hey! Don't judge me, I DID say they got to stay up late,) I sat down in a nice, hot bath. Ahhhh. Peace and quiet. Although, I'm finding more and more that peace and quiet actually hurts my ears. So weird. I was just getting to the good part of my bath time dream, the one where I'm a size 8 and I'm eating a Cinnabon the size of my head, when I heard it. The deep breath Jack takes before he voices a question. I'm still trying to figure out how he learned to open doors. I thought smearing Vaseline on all of the door knobs would surely stop him. (That was a bad joke...we didn't really do that. We used baby oil) So, before he could speak I gave the typical mother prelude..."I'm going to count to 3 and you better be back in that bed!" I meant it. He meant to ask me a question, too. He won. He's way cuter! "Momma, why do my favorite toys have to leave this disaster of a house?" *Note to self: Be careful with descriptions of people, places and things in the future.* Then and there, with me in what was once a relaxing bath and Jack sitting in the bedroom floor out of sight of what could potentially be a more traumatizing view than the toys in the garbage bag, we discussed charity and goodwill. We discussed "Goodwill" in terms of it being a regular noun and also in terms of it being a proper noun...because that's where the "favorite toys" are going next week. I don't know how much he understood but I tried. We attempted this conversation a couple months ago over why he should eat the "Luckys" as well as the "Charms," but it was a waste of breath. Maybe now that he's 4, he'll get it. We shall see.
I'm going to take a little time here to mention my awesome husband. You will find that while he will show up in my posts, there probably won't be a lot written about him. It's not because I don't like him, because I do. A lot. He's my knight in desert cammies and a flak jacket. It's just that I'm one of those military wives that takes Operational Security to a ridiculous level. Better safe than sorry. Not that I think the 'bad guys' have any interest in what I write, but I don't want to chance giving them too much information about who I believe to be the greatest Marine EVER! He is my rock and it goes without saying that I would have absolutely no material without him. After all, he is the co-creator of my fodder!
Until next time, be happy and enjoy your weekend!
Friday, September 9, 2011
Are you ready for this?? Honestly, I don't know that I am. =)
Today happens to be the day that my Wyatt, my "third born son" has decided to send me into a fit of nostalgia and mild insanity. He has officially become "a walker" in the sense that he has walked more than crawled today. Granted, my cleaning the explosion of toys out of the floor probably facilitated this occurance...but still. I also opened, what I later realized, would be my last can of baby formula for a while, if not ever. It's fair to say I am having issues (yes, more than usual,) so I figured it only fitting to attempt my first blog post. What can it hurt, right? I might as well share my issues.
Actually what I've done is created a lot of hype for nothin' because that's it for this one. Mainly because I haven't a clue what I'm doing. There's also the issue of 3 little boys that keep pulling the computer screen down, drooling and questioning my intentions with the computer.
Stay tuned, I will figure it out...eventually!
Today happens to be the day that my Wyatt, my "third born son" has decided to send me into a fit of nostalgia and mild insanity. He has officially become "a walker" in the sense that he has walked more than crawled today. Granted, my cleaning the explosion of toys out of the floor probably facilitated this occurance...but still. I also opened, what I later realized, would be my last can of baby formula for a while, if not ever. It's fair to say I am having issues (yes, more than usual,) so I figured it only fitting to attempt my first blog post. What can it hurt, right? I might as well share my issues.
Actually what I've done is created a lot of hype for nothin' because that's it for this one. Mainly because I haven't a clue what I'm doing. There's also the issue of 3 little boys that keep pulling the computer screen down, drooling and questioning my intentions with the computer.
Stay tuned, I will figure it out...eventually!
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