Forgetful

I apparently have a terrible memory, so I am writing a few things down that I will otherwise soon forget:
Z calls all brown objects "chocolate milk". Today, there were about 10 chocolate milk trucks or cars or floats at the parade.
All three kids say "Help you" when they want help. For instance, S yelled "Mama! Help you!" when her REALLY wet diaper started falling off from the weight.
All of our kids say "too heavy" when they mean "too hard." Like when B was trying to reach his sippy cup off of the counter. He reached and reached (on his tippy-toes even), and couldn't quite get it. "It's too heavy, Mama!" he whimpered.

Oh, and I took a big ol' bite of pizza the other night. Z looked over at me, clasped his hands together, made his eyes all squinty and said "hih, hih, hih...hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, eh, ih, mo, hih, hihh....AMEN!" He was praying! I forgot to pray, he noticed, he remedied the situation. Thanks, buddy. I could have died. My mom always told me I'd choke on my food if I didn't pray before I ate.

chicks

This is E. He is my nephew. He visited today, while we housed some chicks.

I found some farmer in Conklin who raised chickens. I talked him into letting me buy four chicks for $2 each. I told him I would bring them back the next day....after my kids got their pictures taken with them.


I thought it would be a fairly carefree experience.....sheltering the chicks for the night, I mean.

It wasn't.

I was up till 330 am. I was petrified that the chicks would die in my care.

I put them on the bathroom floor, in a cardboard box, under the heat lamp. I went in to check on them before I went to bed at 10pm. They were all huddled together and freezing. They needed to be closer to the heat lamp. I dragged the big ol' floor lamp I got for my birthday into the bathroom, and balanced the box on the top of the shade. I watched the tiny chicks for awhile. It was 1030pm.
Now, they were really close to the heat....and all cozy and warm.
I went back to bed, and tossed and turned, and wondered about the chicks. I got up to check on them at 1130pm. One chick was drinking from their water dish. One was standing in it. Two were lying and stretched out on their shavings and breathing really hard. They were too hot. Now what?
I got on-line to read about caring for chicks. It said they should be in 95 degree shelter. I guess the temperature was ok, but it also said they should never be without food. What do you feed chicks? It said to give them commercial feed. I didn't have any. I figured they could eat shortcake....crumbled up. I sprinkled it all over their box. The chicks jumped around and pecked at the ground (and each other) like crazy. I went to bed. It was 1230am.
I lay in bed and wondered if they were going to peck each other to death. What if the sugar turned them into psycho-chicks?! Or what if that much sugar was bad for their digestive systems and they went into cardiac arrest?
Maybe bread crumbs would be better. I got out my food processor. (It was now around 130am.) I sprinkled bread all over their shavings and tried to pick out the shortcake. I read more about chicks and how they carry diseases, so I cleaned every surface they may have touched, including the entire kitchen counter and sink. It was 230am. I went to bed. I couldn't sleep. What if the chicks died before tomorrow?
I got up and picked clothes for the kids to wear for their pictures. (You'd think I would have already done that, wouldn't you?)
When I finally went to bed the last time, it was 330-something. I must have finally fallen asleep, because I woke up the next morning to peeping chicks. All still alive.
I was tired the next day, and very glad to bring the chicks back to their experienced owners!

A Mama's Joy (Poop-free days)

This morning, I was about to drag my butt out of bed when K informed me that he was getting the kids up today. I happily rolled over and pulled the covers far, far over my head.
I woke up at 1015. 2 hours later than I usually have to get up.

And K made bacon, eggs, and toast, which is more than I have made for him all week (although I did make a great ham on Monday).

And the kids gave me a pot of my favorite flowers (Gerber daisies). They signed a card by their very own selves.

I felt loved.

But even more than all of that, rumor has it that B (I was sleeping, so I was not a first-hand witness) had the nastiest, messiest diaper of all time, and K cleaned it up.

AND S and B both puked a couple of times, and K cleaned that up too.

Joyfully, the rest of the day was poop and puke free.

I feel loved. Alot.

Thanks kids and a very big thanks to you, K.
I love you all tons and like crazy.

No Love

It was dinner-time when Z suddenly was struck with a giant love for his brother, B.
"I love you, Bay-oooooh! I Luuuuuuuv you!" B smiled and turned to his brother to respond: "I love you, Z-ey!"
S sat across the table watching them. She looked unhappy, so I suggested that the boys tell S they love her too.
"I love you, S!", said B and Z sweetly.

"Noooooo! No Love YOU!" barked S. I guess that unhappy look was not jealousy or feelings of aloneness. It was probably closer to disgust at the sappy love going on across the table.

Bonus!

Whenever the kids find an old snack stuck in the corner of their carseat (or under the fridge or table), their dad exclaims "BONUS!" And the kids look at him (confused, but happy), and eat whatever bonus it happens to be (usually pre-sucked on candy).
The other day, Z was exploring the shed, and found a big ol' round bobber thing that is usually in the back of toilets. He picked it up, studied it closely, and yelled "BONUS, mama!"
As long as you don't try to eat it, we'll call it whatever you want, buddy.