"Honey, I Painted the Mini-Van Pink"

...and other things you just shouldn't inform your husband about.

The other night, I was outside playing with the kidlets.

The occasion was none other than playing ball in the front yard because A) supper was in the crock pot and not quite done, or B) Daddy wasn't home from work yet, or C) bedtime wasn't quite available yet or D) we just needed some playtime.

Now, this particular night hailed the occasion of A so you can imagine the hungry herd of kidlets they were.

Not to be outdone by their famished state of being, each kidlet excretioned incredible amounts of fun and energy, as young little people are apt to do.

Landon zoomed on his bike in an impressive manner. Janae rather careened her way around objects and would rustle the romper on her young brother, Alex, as she spled (blend of "fled" and "sped") past him. It was the same idea as the wind rustling leaves, if you know what I mean. Seriously, some kids should just get speeding tickets; they're such a threat to society when they're on bikes.

I'm seriously thinking of installing a braking system that allows me to use a remote control to slow her bicycle down from a distance. She has two speeds on that bike: faster and fastest. She knows no danger when it comes to being on her two-wheels-with-one-functioning-training-wheel bike.

One day, I watched Janae hit Alex's trike going west down the sidewalk. She pretty much just bumped merrily over the back part of his poor mode of transportation, turned around and 14 seconds later, hit the same Alex's bike going east down the sidewalk. This time, she didn't bump merrily. Rather, she toppled to the ground with a rather dramatic and dangerous thud (kids can get concussions, I've heard). She wailed gustily through tears of heart ache, pain and regret as she laid in pieces under her bruised and bashed up bike, "I don't like this house, or this driveway." (Yeah the house and driveway really have a lot to do with the fact you can't seem to avoid hitting things with your bike.)

Meanwhile, I was thinking, "Watch out." I really try to be plain and simple when it comes to giving pieces of advice to my children -- I really do -- but I've realized it tends to come too late or if it is on time, they can't hear me for some reason. This was one of those "too late" times.

Another time I remembered watching Janae hit our neighbor's yard rock. It's like this huge, massive thing that's been there ever since before Janae was born learned how to ride bike but it seemed to escape her memory as to it's general location on this particular day.

As Janae was sailing at top speed down the sidewalk, she veered off into the neighbor's yard (who knows; maybe there's an imaginary slope there that pulls her bike off the beaten path) and just like that, WHAM! she hit the thing so hard, it bounced her back 2 feet. She came to a very sudden but upright stop. (notice, I said UPRIGHT.)

She giggled with glee, turned the wheel and took off in the intended direction she should've been going.

(To all you PETR --People for the Ethical Treatment of Rocks-- no rocks were harmed in the making of this scenario.)

So. As I was saying, I was outside playing with the kids while we waited for supper to finish cooking

Landon and Janae were zooming up and down the sidewalk, dodging each other and other objects such as that younger brother, while I played catch with that younger brother.

As I threw Alex (the younger brother) the ball and attempted to catch his throws (my catch is poor; his throw is impressive), I stumbled in the yard (no surprise there) and twisted my ankle.

Ouch.

(If you don't know what I mean by "ouch," you have obviously never twisted your ankle.)

I continued to play, chalked up the twisted ankle to my klutziness, and attempted to throw/catch another ball. While performing an amazing circus act catching that particular child's ball, I suddenly did this impressive awkward move in a desperate lunge at the ball and began to notice an equal amount of pain in my left knee and right elbow at the same time.

Weird, I thought, a two wheeled truck must've just come out of no where and hit me.

Then it dawned on me that my elbow had actually made an unnatural contact with my knee and the impact of both coming together, caused an unnatural reaction. There's nothing like hitting yourself with yourself because then you have automatic pain in two locations.

Not to be outdone by my advancing klutziness nor to give in to my growing embarrassment as I made a spectacle of myself to all the neighbors, I showed the kids my amazing skill of throwing the ball up on the roof and then catching it as it rolls down. I can be pretty quick witted, you know.

You should've seen their faces: they were impressed. The look of pride in their eyes as they watched their sports-man-ship-like mom, was worth the effort it took to learn the skill of How To Throw A Ball On The Roof.

They were amazed. I was like this hero, or something, to them.

As I threw, rolled and caught the ball, I continued to get braver and braver. I'd throw harder. Faster. Less-like-a-girl Stronger. The entertainment level was at 5+stars and boy, were we all happy.

Just then, the unthinkable happened: the ball got lodged between a gable-end-eave and the porch roof. (If you don't know where that location is, you are obviously not married to a roofer.)

Not to be outdone by the little set-back in our performance for the day, I grabbed a wrangled stick and poked and prodded and stabbed and swung the stick at the lodged ball. I needed a couple more feet of height --among other things; like I'm sure a brain would've really come in handy right then-- and had to come up with another plan.

So I grabbed a garden rake.

The garden rake was a marvelous idea. Until it scratched the flashing. Oops. (If you're married to a roofer, you realize the danger of scratching the flashing.)

I marched back to the garage and found a gazillion-foot-long piece of quarter-round-trim (if you're married to a carpenter, you'll know what that is.)

I poked and prodded and stabbed and swung the trim at the lodged ball. I still needed a brain height and heard Janae say, "Nope, you're not gettin' it Mom."

Thanks, Janae. It's so kind of you to point out the obvious. (Her perception amazes me.)

3 blunders on the yard playing ball, confirmed my klutziness. 3 attempts at removing the ball from it's inconveniently lodged location, confirmed my inability to coordinate ball-rescue attempts. Plain and simple, I was a doomed failure.

As Janae continued to zoom dangerously up and down the sidewalk on her bike, I recognized the finality of supper's cooking and called the kids in. We sat down to eat, gave thanks and dug into our meal. Everything was perfect until I began to tell my husband, that dear darling man, my 3 acts of klutziness.

When I got to the part about the elbow-colliding-with-the-knee, it all seemed too outrageous to even be legal. He was too confused to understand how that could happen.

It makes me have to excuse my daughter for her inability to avoid bouncing her bike off of the neighbor's landscape rocks because seriously, with a mom like me, she comes by it naturally... the poor child.

And poor husband... me re-enacting at the supper table how my elbow-hit-the-knee, couldn't be any worse than if I were to paint the van pink.

Or could it?

When Foggy Brains and Guinea Pigs Don't Mix

Today Janae was holding our one and only breed-able female guinea pig.

And as she sat on the floor holding our one and only breed-able guinea pig in her lap, the guinea pig did what guinea pigs do: it jumped. And kinda started to run. You know, away from us.

Janae did what Janae does at all the wrong times. She just sat there. Now, had it been church or mealtime or a place and setting that requires "just sitting," she would've responded in a different manner. Or I should say, she would've likely responded in a different manner... I'm not God so how can I accurately predict the behavior of a person? Especially if the person is my own daughter, right?

As I lunged for the guinea pig and repositioned it in my daughters lap, I imagined a worse case scenario where the one and only breed-able guinea pig WOULD jump and run away and stay gone. And I mentally calculated the best formula that could be used to catch the run-a-way-pig.

In my sleep deprived, it's-been-a-long-day frame of mind, I decided the best solution would be to also let our one and only breed-able male guinea pig loose and hope he could find our one and only breed-able female guinea pig. Surely fate instinct would lead them together.

Then, the two of them could do, well, what guinea pigs do best and from that union would likely spring forth an average of about 2-3 baby guinea pigs and voila: we'd have about 5 chances of catching a guinea pig thus improving our chances of catching a wild loose pig.

My math skills have always been poor but I was impressed with the mental calculation that redundantly played over in my foggy brain that day. I concluded that our chance of retrieving a live pig and adding it to our diminished herd of guinea pigs would best be achieved if there were more than just one pig loose, but rather a generous amount of five.

As I assessed the repercussions of such reproductive activities, I wondered what the cat would think about this idea. Not that there's a connection or anything but when I thought of the cat, I was also reminded of the building inspector, should we ever need him for future projects. And what about the bank inspector should we ever decide to refinance? Or the tax assessor? Or even our friends should we ever have any of them over?

I decided an investment in live traps would be the most economical option because seriously, who wants to be involved in the topic of wild rumors of guinea pigs or to be known as The People Who Live In The House Crawling With Real Live Guinea Pigs?

For some reason, I sure don't.

I would hate to use our home as a guinea pig for what happens when guinea pigs get loose. That's not the Guinness-Book-of-World-Record's-page I would like to hold a title to. And if not even I would be impressed to hold that kind of popularity, who would?

A Housewife in Training

I came into the kitchen (a couple weeks ago- notice no snow out the window) and found a busy little bee...


Wow, I didn't think it was this big of a job.It's a good thing dishwashers are easy to reach for short people.
Even if you do have to stand on the door to reach the cups.

Update in Pictures

Since I promised a certain grandma that I had a post already to put on here today of some certain grand children, the following blog is a fulfillment of that promise.

As a side note, a certain husband surprised his certain wife with a new camera! Our old one was despairing of life itself and making it sorely difficult to capture Kodak moments. I am enjoying our new Canon PowerShot SD750 and am realizing just how fun and easy it is to take pictures again. For those of you that have bemoaned the fact I hardly post pictures anymore, hopefully you'll see a few more around here than you have in the past. Now that I can actually take pictures and upload them without banging the camera or the computer just to get the "upload pictures" button to actually work or threatening to manually dismantle that thing we called a camera, I think you just might be able to finally see more picture updates.

Typical hair day.
Sisterly love.
Almost as big as my sister.
Hitching a ride.
True manhood. Camo pants. Cowboy boots. Biking.

Yes, she does sit still sometimes.
Celebrate Autumn! Make pumkin muffins!
Brothers for keeps.
Life is so serious.
But, I'm still cute.

On Being a Superhero and a Supermom All in One Day

I really shouldn't be here. But I am.

Today just has been too original and unique to not blog yet totally mundane and normal all at the same time.

It started at nap time. NO. It actually started first thing this morning. Janae asked for milk. No big deal, she can have milk. BUT, I told her to be patient and wait. She kinda waited and was kinda patient until she threw herself on me and in no uncertain terms demanded milk.

That was it. And that was how my day started. I should've known then that this was a day unlike any other.

After crying and sobbing and throwing a fit for nigh up to all of 15 minutes (or was it hours? I can't remember), I declared a state of emergency and got my tape ready to strap her to a chair until she'd agree to no more tears. And no more throwing herself. Just like that, she dried her tears, wiped her face and happily went on to the next thing.

Wow. And I didn't even have to use the tape!

So, our day went on as normal. By lunchtime, I had unloaded the dishwasher, loaded the dishwasher, cleaned the kitchen, made our bed and decided by about 1:00pm to get dressed. After that, we ate lunch and then loaded the kids up and ran to my sister in laws house to drop something off. I definitely hadn't had a very productive first half of the day but I promised myself the last half would be better. (And then I sit here.)

No big deal. All seemed normal. All seemed right.

We get home. Landon doesn't want a nap and is letting me know that. I promised Janae she could feed the dog so she precariously spills a cup full of dog food in the dog dish. Alex is screaming in the middle of the living room waiting to nurse. Landon still doesn't want a nap. Alex continues screaming. Janae finds out she has to take a nap too and decides she doesn't want one either. She joins in the screaming and crying.

Okay, this is where it gets exciting so sit down if you're not yet and hold on to something stable...

I take my daughter by the hand and we calmly walk towards her room like any normal mother/daughter duo would. Suddenly, Janae lets her legs go under her resulting in a position that put her in the vicinity of needing to be dragged if she continued to hold the hand of her walking mother. I, not wanting to give in to her resistance of going to bed, continued walking. She continued balking. As we both walked and balked, something happened.

But, at that point, I had to attend to Landon. And walk past Alex who was still screaming. Landon didn't want his nap and Alex was screaming louder. Above the boy's din, I thought I could here wails of their sister coming from the other end of the house. Before I began to manually pluck out my hair, I was able to get Landon calm and down for a nap.

And Alex was still screaming when I walked past him.

I went to Janae's room and found her in there. I was surprised she stayed in her room considering her balking while I was walking her to her room just moments earlier. But I noticed something strange.

I noticed her hand was not grand. Her arm showed a tinge of harm. Her tears were of pain and fell like pouring rain. I knew something was wrong; the day would now be long. I was not a nurse. Nor was I a maid. But, I knew right then that my daughter had Nursemaids Elbow.

The phone was near and from there I spread my fear to the dad of my child that is sometimes bad. (It's my child that is sometimes bad; not her dad. He is good and acts as he should. Thought I'd make that clear incase you had a fear and thought our dad was sometimes bad...) Many miles separate us and for that reason I had a fuss. What would I do to my child that was only two and had a elbow hanging loose?

Remember also that the baby was still screaming and that there was no way Toby could come home from his job almost 2 hours away. I was in a bind and about to lose my mind. At least what was left of it.

So, I tucked Janae in bed, propping her elbow carefully and went to feed our starving 18lb. 5 month old baby boy. While nursing, I looked up a site Toby had used in the past to correct this problem once before. I read the instructions, stories and testimonials. Looked at the diagram. Decided to do my best -- especially after evaluating the situation and the fact that my daughter was in pain.

Our nurse friend left on vacation this morning. She couldn't set it.

The chiropractor was out of the office. He couldn't set it.

It's Friday and the ped. was sorely booked. Not like they couldn't have worked us in but at 45 minutes away, it would've been a long and painful ride with a screaming baby, a screaming kid and a child that needed the nap he didn't want.

So, in the best interest of my child, I did it. Yes, me. I set her arm. And it went in just like they said it would. "Pop." Totally fine. Seconds later, she was reaching for things with that arm that before she wouldn't even move. Touching my nose and laughing.

And just now I looked and found this:


Before I did the maneuver, her hand lay painfully on her belly and could not be raised at all. Now she has her arm comfortably pulled up and her hand tucked by her face. Sleeping the way she normally does.

So, yes. I feel like a superhero.

But, I won't feel like a supermom until I get this done:

And that's only about half of it. But, at least my child is happy and not in pain anymore, my baby's tummy if full while he sleeps contentedly and my son is sleeping peacefully in the nap he didn't want.

Now to get to that laundry...

Catastrophe # 5,874

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 Those Bugs and Other Things I Never Thought I'd Say

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.

Proof that Naps ARE Necessary

The frantic mad dash that happens around here at nap time is enough to make anyone tired. Except my kiddos. They seem to get hyped and energized by the ordeal and add to the mad brigade as much as they can. At this point, it suddenly dawns on me why naps are so important for kids. Especially my kids.

It usually starts with the baby. I hold his noon feeding off as long as possible so I can put him to sleep after the older kids. I like him to lay down LAST. About the time lunch time is over, he starts fussing for his meal. After a couple squeaks, he's in a full-fledged holler and the whole house takes shape for a catastrophe. Until this point, all was peaceful. But, Alex has officially sounded the alarm that nap time has come.

Then the next step towards total chaos is Janae either insists on going to bed now or else her attitude shows that she actually needs to go to bed five minutes ago. The only problem is that lately, she just starts crying for no reason when we prepare for bed. And she'll keep up the wailing for quite some time. So, now we have the baby squalling and Janae joining in. Who's next?

Well, Landon. Although he's not a crying kid, he does have antics of his own that can be just as debilitating for his character. He's also the first kid I like to lay down because he sleeps the longest. Does he like to lay down first? No. It starts with me telling him to go potty. He insists he just went potty yesterday. I tell him to go and make sure there's no pee left. He reminds me again he got rid of all his pee yesterday. By now, I'm laying down the law and enforcing a trip to the bathroom. He complies, pees like a race horse and then heads outside. I stop him on the thresh hold and tell him to go wash his hands in the bathroom. Thrilled with the chance to play with water, he gladly "washes" his hands.

Meanwhile, The Baby is crying loudly, Janae is crying louder and I'm trying to get both to quiet down. And the bathroom sink is running water. Lots of water.

I get Baby Alex calmed down, send Janae to her room until she stops crying and tell Landon to shut the water off, dry his hands and go to his bed and wait for me. Then, he says he has to go potty. Then he asks for a drink after he gets up from his nap. Then he decides he doesn't want to go to bed and runs through the house wailing at the top of his lungs and landing on the livingroom floor in a tearful heap. Now he's crying. I think his younger siblings are a bad influence on him.

Now all three kids are crying, thanks to nap time. I thought nap time was supposed to be peaceful?

Long story short, Landon gets tucked in bed, Janae gets rational and dries her tears and gets in bed happily (the attitude change is sudden) and I snatch up my sweet little baby and cuddle in my own bed with him. He's squealing with delight and gasping happily in anticipation of getting fed.

The Baby just gets latched on after his heightened expectancy and I hear a door open.

Ugh. No wonder why her attitude change had been sudden: Janae just got the bright idea that's she'd extend the Laying Down For Naps time a little longer and stop with the tears then start later with the Getting Out Of Bed.

So, I get up, ignore the weeping baby and attend to a Janae that decided she would be happy now and not cry. Okay, that's great but you still need a nap, I tell her. She's put back in bed, totally heartbroken that she has to stay there.

Alex who's now dozing gets a good portion of his feeding when I suddenly hear Janae wandering around her room singing, "Trust and Obey." What a fitting song, I muse as I detach myself from The Baby, fully waking him up and attend to Janae's disobedience.

I resume the feeding with the baby and soon hear more sounds coming from Janae. I regrettably leave Alex again go to Janae's room in time to find her streaking around the room naked because she says she peed.

Finally, several trips later, I looked into Janae's room after all was quiet and found her eerily sleeping in her bed with her eyes half open. Obviously, she was so tired she didn't even give herself time to shut her eyes before she went to sleep.

And this ends Day Number 1,976 of nap time at our house. Though the most exhausting part of our day, it definitely is worth it when the house is actually quiet for a good length of time. And stays quiet until Janae gets up. She's always the last one down and the first one up.

How I love naptime! It's my own little oasis in the desert of a long day. It's my own little island in the middle of the ocean of a busy day. Now for a little of my own nap time before little feet plop out of beds and head back out to the great and wonderful sleepless world of wake time!

What I Belong To

So, I have a blog. Yeah, who doesn't these days? The only thing with my blog is that I have it; it doesn't have me.

And that's not an entirely bad thing when I already belong to this:
(insert picture of the hardworking man)

And this.
(insert picture of the rugged and adventerous young man)


And this.
(insert picture of child who continually lives life on the edge)


And this.
(insert picture of that baby who smiles well on camera but screams well off camera)



The lack of posts can be explained by the above or can be summed up in this:
(insert picture of super mom power)

A Typical Morning

Landon is wandering around in his fireman's coat and hat, talking about snow and wishing for snow boots. Soon he stops by the baby sleeping on the recliner and enjoys a few soft moments with his little brother.

Janae is soaking in the tub threatening to get out... "I want out now..." keeps coming from the the bathroom. Finally, she just gets out and stands waiting for a towel, dripping bath water all over the floor.

Alex is perched on the recliner after only drinking an ounce of his full bottle. Not sure why he stopped at only an ounce after all the noise he made, making us think he was starving to death for sure.

Next, Landon bangs his hard fireman's hat on the guinea pig's cage, enjoying watching her run in fright. "A righteous man regards the life of his beast," I exhort across the house to him. Actually, I said it in three-year-old language: don't scare the guinea pig; it could make her die.

Janae is dry from her bath and now trying to give Alex his bottle. Her attempts at sticking it in his mouth are futile; his lips are sealed. Her soft voice is so motherly as she chatters sweet nothings to him.

And Alex, well, he just sits in his soft blue blanket looking for all the world like the picturesque newborn baby he really isn't... quiet, sleepy, content and not crying.

Yep, it's a typical morning. The events always changing, the kids always trying something new and the baby unpredictable. One of those days where I certainly feel like a mother of 3.

Happy Birthday Janae!

When I was pregnant with Landon, my family thought for sure "it" was a girl. So, they dreamed accordingly. My younger siblings found a picture of a small girl in a magazine that just looked like "a Courtney child" so they cut her out and mailed her to me.

"This is what your little girl will look like," they told me.

She was very cute. Long, thick, brown hair framed her round chubby cheeks with the accenting little button nose. The perfect picture of cuteness and girliness.

But then, the "it" became a boy and soon Landon arrived.

Where was that cute little girl? I stashed the magazine cut-out away and saved it.

13 months later, Janae made a daring dash into our little family. She's always been close behind Landon in everything he does so it's no surprise her entrance into this world was so close behind his.

Topped off with a dark head of thick brown hair and adorned with a darling button nose, her chubby cheeks were perfect for kissing. She was the perfect picture of cuteness and girliness.

Now, I don't look at the magazine picture and long for that little girl; I simply pull out my camera and chase down the busy little thing that I call my very own girl. The resemblence between the two is quite profound.

Or, I skip the whole picture and just look at her and marvel that the very girl I always hoped I'd have someday, is the very one I got.

Happy Birthday to my 2 year old little girl!

On Fears And Feathers

Lend my child to any stranger
and let her sit on their lap
she'll never fear of danger
nor have concern for her life

Put her with dogs and cats of all sizes
hear her squeals and giggles
as her fate she surmises
is one of only joy and pure bliss

Send my child alone in the dark
and she'll skip through the room
like a soaring sky lark
never afraid of the unknown

Let this child go out into the cold
all by herself with no one around
she'll squeal with joyous tales untold
and cry when it's time to come inside

Scream of a bug threatening your feet
and she'll run to your side
and think it's quite neat
to have such a thing in her very own house

But, drop a light feather on her angelic face
and she'll shudder with fear and cover her eyes
a dark shadow crosses where the smile of grace
used to beckon dogs and strange stingy men

Peel back the hands that shut out the sight
of the white harmless feather
floating down like a kite
nearing the face of my sweet bubbly girl

Beware my friend for now you have done
the most hideous thing
to my dear darling one
for feathers we know are only to be feared