At almost 5 months old, Alex was ready for a hair cut. After being dubbed as "The Wild Man," I took pity on his character trait (wild hair) and decided to civilize him and spiff him up a bit. The first picture doesn't give enough credit to his hairy image (his hair was wet in the picture) but it was really getting long and straggly. Alex's aunt Vicki did the honors of cutting his hair and I think she did a good job.
Before the show began When it started getting exciting
Performing the Lock Down
Utilizing the Lock Down (yes, I was laughing at him....)
If you persistently run out of hot water on bath night and you have a generous sized hot water heater that was inspected and deemed very functional, don't panic: you probably really don't need a new hot water heater just yet.
If you have two and three-year-olds in your house that are healthy, active and energetic and they enjoy playing in your basement - especially within the vicinity of the hot water heater, they are probably actually the problem. Especially if the shut off valve on the hot water heater is within 48 inches to the floor.
If you don't believe me, just go check your hot water heater.
Or you can come check mine.
Tip: check them before you attempt to use the shower.
Don't eat cookies that you find on the floor. How did the baby get in our bed? (said in the early darkness of the morning.) No, eagles are not people. Yes, eagles can walk. Sort of. No, eagles don't say, "I will attack you." Eagles are birds. Eagles can fly. Eagles can't talk. Why are you asking me about eagles? Who's wet diaper is under the bed? Go wash your hands but don't use any soap. (long story... don't ask.) Why would you want to pee on your toys anyway? NEVER pour gas all over the garage floor again. No, you can't drive. (said to a three year old.) Are you putting those chips in your pocket? Who cut your hair? We don't shoot Janae. Don't put your fingers in the baby's mouth. Eat your candy. Where is Mommy's credit card Landon? No, you can't have a vitamin yet. Where is Mommy's wallet? Who put Daddy's shoe in the toy box? No, we can't live at Grandpa's house. Landon, how did you get this $20 bill? Don't eat those bugs. We don't pee back there. We only pee in the toilet. Stop licking the window. If you slam that door again, I WILL take it off the hinges. Why would you step on your sister's head? Would you like it if people walked on your head? Don't stand in the dog's water. I'll give you something to cry about. Remember, you're not the mom. (said to a three year old having an apparent identity crisis/bossy attitude.) Don't walk on the baby. Don't be mean to your sister; she will bite you. If you don't want to get bit, then don't be mean. Boy's can't nurse. Curious George doesn't nurse either. Only mommies nurse. Don't. eat. the. dogs. food. Don't bite the baby. Don't step on the snakes. That bee will sting you; don't touch it. Never climb on the oven door. Don't hang from the freezer handle. Don't climb the fridge. Do you want some coffee? (said to a two year old.) A headache is in your head. That is not your jaw; that is your chest. Don't throw your bike. It's not getting dark yet; it doesn't get dark until night time. That squirrel won't get you. We can't go to Mississippi today; it's too far away. Stop asking me if we can go to Mississippi. The lightning won't get you. No, the dog is not your daughter, Landon. And Grandma is not your husband. Yes, Mommy and Daddy got married. Why are you bringing that axe to the grocery store? No, we can't do school right now. Don't put your foot on the baby's head. Where is your shirt? (said to a half naked child that just came in from the frigid outdoors.) I don't care if you're hot, put your coat back on. If you want Grandma to get your card, we have to give it to the mail man. Watch out for that wall. Don't put tic-tacs in your nose.
No baby crying, no kids starving and no phone ringing. Ahh! The bliss of a blog moment.
Okay, you noticed my title and probably wonder what in the world would inspire such a subject. I never seem to participate in Wordless Wednesday, or Works-For-Me-Wednesday, or Kitchen-Tip-Tuesday, or Friday Funnies, or any of those catchy phrases that define the topic for the day on several of the blogs I visit. Instead, I've decided to make up my own just now. Actually, I was going to write this post last Thursday but then didn't get a chance. I never could come up with a good one for Thursday anyway. As is the custom of things put aside, I didn't get to it until today... Sunday.
I've had a heavy topic on my mind lately. A real heavy one. We could call this post, "The Topic" since it falls in such a stark category. Hopefully we won't broach this subject again, at least for a real long time, but for now I think we need to discuss the following.
The topic at hand involves a toilet. I know, I know. It doesn't get much heavier than toilet talk. Especially when I'm referring to a toilet commonly used by a little boy who utilizes his full height for something that needs all of his stature and then some. I think you agree that this is a pretty weighty topic now.
So, the fact that we have only toilet in our home and no urinal, I was desperate. I mean, I hate to be so brash in my honesty right now but I was finding it frustrating to find small puddles of, well, of THAT and realized early on that simply wiping the puddles up with mere toilet paper was probably not very sanitary.
For the record, I LOVE cleaning toilets. Toilets and sinks are my favorite to clean. You probably think that's gross and perhaps your least favorite chore. Let me assure that yes, dirty toilets and dirty sinks are gross. But, in hardly anytime, a little elbow grease can have a bad toilet looking really good. And I love it when my work has a fast turn-around rate -- you start the project and the thing looks bad; in a matter of seconds, you are finished and the thing is a shiny piece of porcelain. Unlike laundry where you sort it, wash it, switch it, dump it, fold it, put-it-away and then start on the next load. Takes forever to see progress... unlike toilet cleaning.
But, I don't like cleaning toilets constantly. I like to enjoy my progress; not keep repeating the chore over and over every time my child has to use the bathroom. I was honestly getting a little weary with the fact that my little boy seemed to arrive in the bathroom just on time every time so was only given enough time to aim in the general direction of the toilet instead of aiming precisely IN the toilet. Aiming AT the toilet and aiming IN the toilet are two entirely different things. Plus his stature is a little wanting so that makes a difference too. Teetering on your tip toes into something that is a tad too tall anyway is enough of a road block from keeping you from getting the job done efficiently. And not being efficient in the bathroom when you're a little boy is just not a good thing for whoever regularly cleans the bathroom.
As if the puddles weren't bad enough, I investigated further one day when the bathroom smelled especially ripe. I found by looking in just the right light, that there was a spray of dried, well, STUFF on the wall and I realized that a little velocity practice had been going on in our civilized house. Folks, I live in the United States of America and reside in a modern Midwestern town; this isn't a third world country. I believe in freedom but not the kind of freedom that allows, well, THAT to be relieved anywhere it strikes your fancy. It's one thing to use a tree for such talents but we do not use anything inside our home for, well, THATSTUFF.
Upon examination, the top trickles were almost 4 feet high. And my son is only about 3' tall. While observing his achievement on the bathroom wall, I had to wonder if he thought he had succeeded in his pursuits. I'm sure he was impressed but I sure wasn't.
I washed all the walls in the vicinity of the toilet a good way up and sanitized the entire toilet. I had a good talk with my boy's father, who by the way, was more than slightly amused by what our son did. Though he was almost impressed, he still promised to talk to Landon.
In the meantime, I needed to find a solution for all the little "accidents" that happened several times a day in our bathroom and have been ever since our son became "potty trained." For those of you with baby boys still using diapers, I have one words of advice for you: don't potty train your son until he is tall enough to stand in front of the toilet. In case you don't know this, potty chairs are for girls. Boys stand. Even when they can't reach, they still stand. Trust me on this. Potty chairs with pee guards big enough to contain an elephant should he try out the plastic little throne, is only deceiving: potty chairs are a girl thing. A pee guard does no good when the boy stands at the toilet instead.
Normally what I did to these obnoxious puddles of what-the-pee-guard-on-the-potty-chair-that-my-son-doesn't-use-since-he's-a-boy didn't get, was attack them with generous sprays of Fantastic cleaner and evacuate the areas with sterile paper towels. But, keeping both in our tiny bathroom and trying to stay on top of the messes with constant bathroom upkeep similar to what most people do once a week, was getting weary.
I decided to splurge: I bought antibacterial cleaning wipes instead. In no time, I can have the entire toilet area spic and span WITHOUT using clumsy paper towels, rags and a spray bottle of disinfectant that I don't have room for.
This keeps me sane, the bathroom sanitary and is even simple enough to do on a busy Sunday. Now Landon can continue to grow big and healthy and hopefully smart and tall and someday, just someday, I might actually have a clean bathroom in between the times that I clean it.
A weighty topic indeed but reality all the same. Especially when you live with a little boy like I do.
With everything going on at once and not much happening at the same time, it's just plain hard to blog.
Take for example this evening while holding my calm (not) placid (not) delicate (not) 15+ pound baby boy on my lap while trying to catch up online. He kept kicking me and finally, I realized his intention had never been to kick me but actually kick at my warm cup of decaf coffee. Ahhh! What a warm sensation coffee can bring when you consume it in more ways than one. Especially while wearing an offwhite shirt. Talk about a double whammy.
Both of my older kiddos have fevers and I myself am a tad under the weather. Just got the sniffles. It's not like a full blown cold or anything, just an annoying nose is all. Not a big deal except when your nose is dripping, the baby is screaming, the phone is ringing and supper is cooking and you can't find a kleenex.
As I sit here now, I can see Alex just past my screen laying on the floor flopping and rocking from side to side. He's turned himself like the hand of a clock in an attempt to change views, reach for toys and look at me. He has almost rolled over several times. It would take two flies zooming past his fat bottom to upset his balance enough and cause him to fully roll from his back to his tummy. But, so far, I only see one fly down there. He is so close to turning.
What is it with flies this year? We have them so bad in (yes, even in) our house that you'd think we lived on a pig farm. Everyone I talk to says they too have the same kind of problems with flies. Mealtime is the worse. I have decided to set the table with the usual mealtime utensils but also add a fly swatter.
Yuck! you say. I know, that would be gross to have a dirty fly swatter. But, I figure that's better than a husband who tries to kill them with his bare hands all through the meal. Not only does he try, but he usually succeeds. He is especially inspired to kill when he sees more than one fly in an area the size of his palm. Ewww. I know. That's what I say too. But, men will be men and no amount of germs will keep men from being men.
Yet with those same hands, my husband will clean up a puke covered little girl while I sit and gag and look the other direction. He is so brave. So, I guess I'm glad most men aren't afraid of germs.
Well, Alex has about decided that his time alone has come to an end. He needs his mother, the poor neglected child. He just loves to always be right with me. Which wouldn't be so hard if he didn't weigh almost 20 lbs. at 4 months old and knew how to kick coffee down my chest. He's talented. Oh, and he LOVES to go shopping. Seriously. He does. I wear him in my MobyWrap and he just peers out and grins away at people until he gets too tired and then droops his head and takes a little snooze. I wonder if I could try something like that with my husband in order to help him enjoy shopping.
This isn't much of an update but like I said, not much going on lately yet everything happening at once. Then again, that's kinda how life is around here lately.
Apparently some good folks who have been licensed to educate our children have determined it's best to give our 11-year-olds birth control so that they will not have their lives ruined by an unplanned pregnancy.
How thoughtful of these "good" folks.
Okay, I'll say that the way I really feel it...
Some whacked "educated" professor that has been stupidly trusted with our children's well fare and knowledge, has been watching our children use the playground for things other than just child play. Instead of saying, "No, we don't do that here," (a simple command all children understand) he chose to turn a blind eye and deaf ear from the immorality being explored on the school grounds and instituted the idea of confidential birth control in order to not "ruin the lives" of these small children. That is such a good idea! Why don't we allow our kids to play in the street while we're at it and just amputate each limb that may get injured by any passing vehicle?
So, our kids are having sex and taking The Pill. Any doctor will tell you that The Pill is not 100% effective and that abstinence is the only form of trusted birth control. But, since the teachers and mentors we have trusted are now telling our kids it's okay to have sex, when will we start seeing maternity clothes in children's clothing stores? I mean really, if we can give our little girls birth control (does that come with instructions for children under 12 like Tylenol does?), why not let them sport their bulging bellies in style?
If they can post on gas station doors, "No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service," and everyone obeys the simple rule, why can't they post on school room doors "No Sex, No Drugs, No School?"
What would probably happen then is we'd end up with a bunch of uneducated, immoral people wandering around squandering up our welfare system. Oh wait! What am I saying... that's not what we WOULD end up with; that's what we HAVE ended up with. From such children, come other children.
What gets me is the fact that having sex with a minor is illegal BUT if you are a minor, then just make sure the other minor is taking birth control. Then you're fine. Then it's okay. I mean seriously, even your teacher will make sure you get The Pill without your parents even knowing about it. But, if a pregnancy occurs, THEN it's a "oops." It was a no-no. Otherwise, keep your belly flat, the population down and you're fine.
These kids are seeking true love and acceptance. Not sex. They are seeking creativity and productiveness. Not sex. They are seeking purpose in life. Not sex. They are seeking stability and sense in life. Not someone giving them a pill so they can go have sex. They are KIDS! for crying out loud, not wild animals with insatiable desires to do things that no one can stop them from doing. They want boundaries and limitations. They want safety. They want security. They don't want sex. And they don't need it either.
Seriously folks, a baby is not the worst that can come of immoral sex. A baby doesn't leave you with a life-long disease that you'll share with anyone and everyone you may ever be intimate with. A baby doesn't make you give that some one you do want to spend your life with, an infection that they too must suffer. A baby doesn't increase your chance of a fatal illness, an STD does. A baby can be adopted off and even forgotten about but a STD stays right with you, increasing your likelihood for cancer, other diseases and sickness. All because someone said, "take this pill, don't tell your mom, and have fun."
What these kids don't know is that a pregnancy is not the worst of it. They don't know that by what The Pill is enabling them to do, is the very thing that could be the cause of their death. That a disease could come from their playmate that could kill them both. They will suffer pain and agony all because no one said, "Don't touch." (Another simple command all children understand.) They will bear the scars on their heart from something that could've been prevented had someone who was *supposed* to care for them, made it impossible for them to defile their spirit and their body.
I know if I don't post something soon, Blogger will shut me down.
Of course, Blogger hasn't done that to any blogs but I just know that if I let this blog go another day, they might decide to dust out a few neglected corners of their system and poof, I would be gone.
All because Blogger dusted, I would be gone.
Does Blogger dust?
Perhaps they do; perhaps they don't.
Either way, I haven't blogged lately.
And if I don't blog soon, Blogger will have every reason to dust me off.
Of course we haven't established the fact that they do dust but as mentioned already, in case they do, and in case they do it tonight, I should just give them reason not to dust me.
So, there's my blog.
I hope Blogger is happy.
And that you are too.
In other news, I have made several sore attempts at a post. But, as you probably well know after many vain visits to my blog with no new posts recently, it's resulted in nothing more than a draft. I hate drafts. I need to dust out my drafts folder and polish up some posts. Or, maybe I don't need to. I have had such controversial topics on my mind lately that I fear if I let them spill anywhere near here, I would cease any and all future blog moments. So, I digress.
I blog best when I'm glad, sad, mad or bad. But, if I'm all four at once, I do not blog well at all. Not at all.
So, there you have it. I have been glad, sad, mad and bad lately. Don't ask about the bad. I'm really not that bad. As for the glad right now, that's really good. And the sad and mad are just, well, that: sad and mad.
The topics on my mind and the situations in my life right now leave me fired, wired and tired so I just don't have that 3 letter formula left over for blogging: N R G. (insert a couple E's and drop a Y on the end and you get the correct form of spelling.)
So, before you all feel as neglected as my pet guinea pig has lately, I just wanted to assure you that things will pick up here again. I was going to say soon but I can't promise anything. I just better reaquaint myself with a proper frame of mind before I embark on any topics at hand.
With that, I bid thee adieu while hoping for a more collected string of thoughts.
I'm a normal person living a normal life of raising normal kids.
My kids do normal things. Like play in mud puddles in their good clothes. My windows are never clean. I have finger prints on my walls. My laundry is never finished. I rarely mop my floors because of 2 sons and 2 daughters who like mud puddles and ballet slippers.
This is my life.