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.

Toddler Tactics

A friend of mine was talking about how her little girl doesn't get disciplined very much because she knows what she is not allowed to do, so she doesn't do those things.

Um, hmmm....that doesn't sound like my kids really at all.
Today, BEFORE 10 AM(!), my kids tossed two full bowls of milky cereal on the (carpeted) dining room floor, they pooped at really inconvenient times (I know, that isn't misbehaving, but it sure is annoying), they got into the baking soda and smeered it into their hair and into the carpet, they changed the greeting on my answering machine so that it (no laughing) recorded me yelling at and spanking S before telling her to go to time-out for smearing buttcream all over herself. (My mom finally called and left me a message about my "nice" greeting). I don't even spank that much, but this is the third time in a very short time that S got into the butt-cream (which is really greasy and almost impossible to clean up....AND it smells like fish). Of course, when I DO spank, who, but my kids, would be able to figure out how to record it for the world to hear?
Not done yet: they also dumped their toy box 5 times while I was preoccupied with the inconvenient diapers, and they continued on their way to the kitchen, where they managed to dump a dry bowl of cereal onto the kitchen floor. Those little plastic chairs that they can drag around the house to any (usually prohibited) location are from the devil!

All of these toddler tactics occured (mostly) while I was cleaning an overflowed toilet (which, yes, managed to seep into our now-really-pudrid-smelling carpet). The kids (quite needless to say?) are taking an early nap, and I am now going to take a hot shower in our stinky bathroom. Ah, motherhood.

Dangerous Minds (or curious but not smart enough yet)

Our kids are smarter this year and more physically able to do things. Yet, they are also still too dumb to know when they are putting themselves in danger.
For instance, I let them out on the back deck, thinking, "Oh good, this year the kids won't be able to squeeze their tiny heads through the railings. They won't be able to fling themselves to their death below." So, I am happily lounging on the couch while the kids play outside, when I hear a chair being pushed across the deck. B is STANDING on the chair, which is now right next to the railing. He most definitely could have flung himself over just in time for his mama to witness. (He didn't. I came to the rescue, but still....)
Then, B and Z opened the window on the other side of the deck that faces our neighbor's yard (and Max, the dog) and leaned their upper halves out to get a better view. Almost died.
B and Z ALSO (notice no girl doing these crazy things?) managed to open the deck latch on the front of the house and went to "see Jin's cuck", which was parked ON THE ROAD. Yup, they were playing on the street when we found them.

SO, I think my nerves will be frazzled by the end of the summer and I might have all grey hair. Don't say anything about my new wrinkles and shaky hands. I'll be fine.

And quit thinking THAT. I really AM watching my kids. Sometimes, I am right there. But they are mastermind sneaky kids. They are good at what they do. They are genious at getting into trouble. I claim no responsibility.

________________

Small confession:

I may have dramatized some of this so that you understand what my imagination TELLS me would happen every time I find my kids in a compromising situation. Really? I was outside BEFORE B tried to stand on the chair to fling himself to his death. Also, I was right there when B and Z opened the deck window (and I was holding their feet so that they couldn't hang out). AND, B and Z were only on the SIDE of the road when we found them, and they were only there for a few seconds.

You wouldn't have gotten the full effect of my frazzled nerves if I would have been COMPLETELY honest, would you?

Neonatal

My friend, Gilly, just became the mama to a wee baby girl. Her name is Bethany Grace. I am imagining her tiny hand gripping the very tip of her daddy's fingernail (and having that be alot to hold onto). I am imagining her kicking and squirming around in her soft bed of folded hospital blankets. I imagine she has a weak (maybe inaudible?), but heart-wrenching cry.
I got the call the other night while my kids were fighting and crying. I heard Tommy say that Gilly was the mom of a wee baby girl, and I couldn't calculate fast enough how early our new little friend was, exactly. But I knew it wasn't time....and then Tommy said three months early, and a flood of memories came rushing in:

Trying to peer through plastic isolettes at the baby you would rather be cuddling in her very own bedroom at home.

Holding her hand and wishing that you weren't obsessed with the monitor she is hooked up to.

Wondering when she will no longer be swimming in her baby clothes (even preemie).

Hating to see her face get all scrunched up and sad when she cries, and knowing that you can do little about it.

Dreading the fact that you have to sleep sometime, and wondering if the nurses will be gentle with her while you are gone.

And counting the days until she can finally come home to her real home with her adoring parents.

And yet, with all of that nervousness and worry and even anger at the fact that our child's welcome into the world wasn't how it was supposed to be, I remember being thankful for our tiny, beautiful kids....I remember being glad I was their mama.

There is an overwhelming love and appreciation of life that takes place when you witness first-hand (and very personally) just how fragile each one of our lives really is. And you are thankful for every moment you have to spend time with those who are precious to you.

I remember, too, thinking that I would never get angry at our kids or want to discipline them. I wondered if I would ever want to let them away from my side....would I ever get frustrated? Annoyed? Overwhelmed? No way! Look at how precious and beautiful they are! And now our tiny kids are two years old....and I am SO thankful for their health and their lives and the opportunity I have been given to raise them, but I definitely do get annoyed sometimes (and frustrated and angry)...

and this is my new lesson, I guess: that I can be really irritated at my kids in one moment and in that same moment possess an overwhelming love and care for them, a desire for them to be happy and loved and comfortable and content. And I wonder if God (our Father) thinks that way about us.

Congratulations, dear Gilly and Tommy. I know you won't read this any time soon. You will be busy for some time to come. But still, maybe some day, months from now, you will know our family was thinking of you and sending love your way.