On Educating 6-Year-Olds And The Challenge Of 1st Grade

6-year-old boy to an adult: "Where did the ark land?"

Adult: "Ummmmm...." *racking brain feriously trying not to look stupid trying to help young child discover the answers to life's deep secrets*

Boy: "Where is the ark?"

Adult: "Well, um... ahem... why do you want to know?" (there, the balls in his court. The most clever design of human nature is to retaliate a hard question with an even harder question.)

Boy: "Because I want to go there when I grow up."

Adult: "Oh! Why do you want to go there?" (maybe he has an answer to why he wants to know where it is but as to the WHY he wants to actually go there, well, this'll make him think.)

Boy: "So that I can do what God tells me if there's a flood again."

Adult makes mental note to research the flood, ark location and how to teach child that the earth will never flood again... a reality said child has yet to grasp everytime he hears the story of Noah's Ark.

I'm almost positive this topic isn't included in 1st grade curriculum so why is my "First Grader" exploring these questions? Oh yeah, that's the nice thing about homeschooling; you can learn about anything you want even before you learn phonics. I get it now.

Adult: *goes to http://www.google.com/ to obtain necessary information in order to educate young child on the dynamics of Noah's ark* (actually, I went to this site instead since it's my favorite search engine.)

Later that day, the boy began to inform the adult and anyone and everyone who would listen HOW he was going to search for and retrieve Noah's ark.

He figured he could just go to wherever the ark was, look at it and bring it back. On a rope of course. But when I explained that the place where the ark is, the people there are very protective of their country and their government would put him in jail, he realized he had a challenge.

So he asked me what I thought he could do.

I told him he could fly to a country by the country where the ark is. And then when it's dark, either crawl over the boarder into the ark's country, or maybe ride a camel.

Hearing he'd be put in jail if he was caught, he decided to bring an American policeman along. Of course, policemen always are the best way to handle emergency situations. Even on the other side of the world. And if one policeman wasn't enough, he decided he'd just bring them all.

Understanding that especially Americans aren't welcomed in Arabic places, he thought he could disguise himself and speak Spanish.

He had some hard questions. "So the ark landed where the people are still very wicked?" was one of them.

If the flood was to cleanse the earth from sin, it seems strange that the people around the ark were STILL wicked. As if one flood wasn't enough, right? (obviously, he's been listening to his Bible stories.)

And he had one more question.... "Why couldn't the ark just land here?" (like, what a waste-of-an-ark that it had to land around "wicked people.")

So he began thinking up plans...

He could dig a hole underground and literally "go under cover."

He could fly in a rocket that didn't go into space.

He could go in a jet and go into space, hang a rope down over "that world" and catch Noah's ark. And of course, bring it home. And then he could set it up in America so other people could see it and he'd start building a whole bunch of arks for people to see.

He could just fly in a jet and not put English words on the outside of the aircraft. Spanish would work, he explained.

He wouldn't let the "wicked people" see his passport.

He wouldn't speak English so they wouldn't think he was American. "I'd have to learn a lot a lot a lot of Spanish though."

And finally he decided he'd just build an ark by himself. But when I told him it wouldn't be Noah's ark but rather Landon's ark, he didn't like that idea.

"So it wouldn't be Noah's ark?" he asked. "Nope," I told him.

It's just not the authentic thing if it's not THE Noah's Ark. So he went back to figuring out how to get Noah's actual Ark. And knowing him, he'll stew over this for weeks and months until he either comes up with a plan or rocket ship or something or moves on to something more challenging. Like world peace.

After having this conversation, I can imagine what's in our school curriculum this year. And here I thought First Grade was going to be, you know, elementary. And I thought the most difficult thing I'd have to teach him this year, was how to read. Boy, was I wrong.

Not wanting to be outdone by his big brother (after overhearing every word about this whole Noah's Ark Plan), Alex declared randomly, "I need to go into the cont'wee and fwy my space wocket some time."

It's so fun not having normal kids..

A Four Year Old's Email Account

The other morning shortly after Landon got up, he declared that he needed to check his email.

He was going to check his email.

He had to check his email.

He really needed to be on his email.

(Each space above identifies the part of the conversation where Landon's father explained in detail that Landon indeed did not have any email. None at all. There was no email for Landon to check. Basically, Landon had no email account.)

The younger Nelson insisted otherwise.

Later that day, I went to my computer to check it and found a whole newly designed home page.
Even my Google set up had changed.

New features.

A desktop weather program.

Calender.

News feed.

Time.

Calculator.

Even a "How To" section about making wallets out of duct tape.

I'm thinking we need to teach our computer savvy son that actually checking your email isn't quite as much fun as what he did. Although, I am enjoying all these new found features on my computer now.

(Don't tell him I just said that.)

In Sickness and Health

You know that little note they stick in wedding vows, "In Sickness and Health?" I always thought that meant in the couple's sickness and health but after having kids, I found that it included them too.

That's where we're at today. Landon complained of a headache in church Sunday night, proceeded to feeling quite warm and feverish and commenced complaining about the headache the whole way home from church. And all night. And now all morning. He basically has a headache (if he knows what a headache is for sure???) and a fever. He's getting The Treatment which means he got some yummy medicine and now gets to sleep under a fan in Mom and Dad's bed. How much better can life get? (when you're sick, of course.)

After my own restless night of not sleeping well and trying to rationalize why Janae felt it necessary to ask for a "rink" (drink) and then be satisfied and go back to bed when all I did was answer, "you had one at bedtime" and then having her get up a couple hours later to turn the bathroom light on because she thought it was too dark in the house to having Landon come in, ask for a drink, head to the kitchen to get his own drink but instead lay in the hallway and wait for me and then keep coming in the rest of the morning to ask for this or that and comment on this or that, or tell me about this or that.

Despite having a bad night of rest AND having a sick kid to top it off, I already had a full day planned. Lots to do. Projects to complete. New projects to start. Errands to run. Cleaning to do. And more cleaning. Laundry. Painting. Etc. Pretty much, my schedule was full. But, I guess this is where that invariable, unavoidable, unplanned for "in sickness and health" comes in.

Which brings me back to the basis of this all. Marriage is a big package. It seems to effect every aspect of life... sickness, health, poverty, riches, etc, you get the idea. But, there's one thing I love about being married. At the end of every day, no matter how awful/good the day is, there is one foundational and unchangeable part of every day: the part of the day when everyone goes to their own beds and the house is dark and quiet. I love that part. I love knowing that no matter how busy I am or distracted Toby is, we still have a common denominator: our bed. The house can be a mess, our days can be full and keep us separated, the kids can be sick, but we still have something that doesn't change: our bed.

Sometimes the day starts with a lurch. The alarm goes off, the phones start ringing, the kids are crying, the baby needs milk, Toby gets ready for work, I head to the shower and wham! just like that, the day is in a headlong tumble towards an endless cycle of vicious circles of everything to do and not enough time to do it.

But, I can rest assured when I peer through the whirling foggy world our day suddenly is, and know that even if I don't see Toby for the rest of the day or have the opportunity to talk to him on his phone, or even see him at the supper table, it's okay; I'll find him after the dust has settled, the noise has quieted, the phones are off and the lights have dimmed and he'll be sleeping next to me. I love that we both can stumble off into our busy worlds and feel content to know that no matter how busy we get or how much we have to do, we'll be waiting for each other at the end of the day.

There's something sweet, contented and peaceful about resting next to the one you pledged your life to. It's a picture of trust. Of love. Of no matter what happened today, we're still here together. And that's my favorite part about being married. Just the quite togetherness of doing nothing other than sleeping and resting. And recharging for yet another busy day and endless cycle of vicious circles...blah, blah, blah... you get my point.

Everyone must go to their bed at some point in their day and I'm glad I get to go to the same bed as Somebody else I know. I don't need a cruise or a Caribbean get-a-way or even a romantic date night; in sickness and health, as long as we both shall live, just put my pillow next to his and I'm content with that.

Potty Training: Does It Ever End?

WHY do kids go through a stage where they HAVE to tell you that they need to go to the bathroom? And it's not just a, "hey mom, if you're wondering where I am, I'll be on the pot" kind of a thing. It's a an alert. A life and death warning. A if-you-don't-know-I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom-now-this-might-be-the-last-time-we-see-each-other-on-earth kind of notification. Same idea as when the Tax Man audits you. That gut wrenching, heart breaking information.

I have seen kids walk past the bathroom while having to go really bad. Where are they going that is more important than just going? Let me guess... they are on their way to tell their mom they have to go to the bathroom.

It sure would be nice if kids did that about other things. Like say for example, eating dog food. They walk past the dog food to ask if they can eat the dog food. And then you can know they are wanting to eat dog food and are able to stop them in time from contaminating themselves with dead meat in the dog food.

Or why not ask if they can bite their brother? When they suddenly feel the urge to bite their brother, they could ask you instead. Wouldn't that be nice? Just think of all the quarrels you could prevent, let alone the human mouth shaped teeth marks on your son's arm you could stop. That would be nice.

But, no. They only ask about the bathroom. Why is it an universal thing too? I have seen kids all over the country, the world, from many different homes, from many different nations ask their mom if they could use the bathroom.

I had thought for awhile we had evaded this stage of parenting/childhood with Landon but it looks now like we haven't. He is exactly almost 4 years old. I wonder if that's the normal age to start this stage or not?

I am thinking the next time Landon asks me if he can go to the bathroom, I will just say no. Absolutely not. "I am so glad you asked me if you could go because I had been meaning to tell you that today, you are not allowed to pee...." OF COURSE YOU CAN USE THE BATHROOM!

I have wondered if kids just want a personal escort to take them to the bathroom. Or if they were afraid of the darkness of some windowless bathrooms. Or if they needed to know that somebody cared about them. Or if they were afraid they'd sit on the big open expanse of the pot and out of the blue fall in and disappear forever down that cold, dark hole. Or if they are just testing our patience as time after time we point out the obvious... "For Pete's sake the bathroom is right there behind you and it has your name written all over it."

There are so many reasons that could be why kids have to notify their mom about their need to use the home's toilet facilities. I am just not sure if we know of all those possible reasons yet.

So, I scheduled an interview...

Me: Landon why do you tell Mommy when you have to go to the bathroom?

Landon: 'Cause... So when I poop you can know when you should come and do me. (by "do me," he means wipe.)

Me: Is that all?

Landon: No.

Me: What are the other reasons?

Landon: Because then you know how I'm done. And when I get off the potty chair, that's disobeying.

Me: Why is that disobeying? (I am wondering where this is going and where it came from.)

Landon: Because then you're gonna get a spanking. I'm serious. My dad used to be older (he means younger) and he got off the potty chair. When he was a little boy, I was big. I wasn't the little boy, Daddy was.

Me: What does Daddy being on the potty chair have to do with why you tell Mommy you have to go to the bathroom?

Landon: (he began to tell me about the UPS man (the SRP truck, as he calls him). I get him back on the subject at hand...) I don't know because... then you will come and wipe me. You have to come in about 3 minutes. Like today we went all potty in my potty chair... 2 of them. (he means he went twice but I'm not sure about the "we" part).

Me: Why do you tell Mommy when you just have to pee?

L: Hey Mom, let's talk about the monkey that peed...

Me: No, let's talk about why you ask Mommy everytime you have to pee.

L: Because.

Me: When you have to go potty, why do you tell mommy?

L: Because then I don't know what I have to say.

Me: Do you have to go potty right now?

L: No. I'm writing. (he was addressing his mail.)

Me: Well, Landon when you have to pee in a little bit, are you going to tell Mommy?

L: No. When I'm older then I'll go poop. (he then got up to get the stamps.)

Me: Landon, Mommy needs to talk to you about something... just like I talk to Daddy about things sometimes... why do have to tell Mommy that you're going to the bathroom?

L: Because then I won't understand you. And I'll talk to you... "Mommy I'm done." (he means he sits in the bathroom and says, "Mommy I'm done.)

I ask him again.

L: Because then I won't understand you and you won't come and I'll have to keep asking and asking. And you won't come because you're not...

Me: (a little King James speech there... "because she was not.") Okay, but why when you just pee?

L: Becaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaause... the monkey peed.

Me: (okay, if you want to talk about the monkey, we'll talk about him...) Did he tell his mom?

L: Um, or his daddy. Or his friend.

Me: Really? So is that why you tell mommy?

L: Ummmmm. Uh-huh.

Me: When you ask me again if you can go to the bathroom, I'm gonna say no. Then what will you do?

L: Spank you.

Getting a little weary, I repeat my question one last time.

L: Because then...(his voice trailed off)... I don't know.

So, there's our proof. These kids really don't know. It's not some irrational fear that makes them tell us they have to go to the bathroom. It's not the dark. It's not the cold toilet seat. It's not their fear of forever being gone from us and getting flushed right down the toilet with their pee. It's not that they need permission.

The reason is because.... well, they don't know either.

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.

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.

Sanitary Sunday for the Sane

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, THAT STUFF.

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.

Down With the Deer Landon Style

"Bang, bang, bang.... Mom, I'm shooting at you!" Landon called across the room. I quickly redirected him the ways of hunter safety and told him in simple words, "We don't shoot people, we only shoot animals."

"Oh. Aminals?" He clarifies.

"Yes, animals. You can shoot things like... um..." (I was trying to think of a good animal to shoot).

"SHEEP!" He interrupts my thinking. So, I agree with him; sheep are good to shoot. I mean, we count them in our sleep only to get an idea of how many there are to shoot the next day.

As Landon goes on his hunt, he eventually ended back up in the kitchen with me.

"Hey Mom," he says. "I'm shooting sheep and bears and moots!" he declares excitedly.

"Moots?" I asked him, "What's a moots?"

"Um... a moots is small.... really REALLY small... and it's an aminal... um.... its a moots," he finished with as if the name alone gave the definition. But, then he went on while deep in thought, "A moots pees really REALLY hard on deers and a moots poops on them too," he stated very matter-of-factly, as if this was a good character trait of an animal.

Wow. I was speechless. I was having a sudden vision of these rodent-size creatures that ran around the forest jumping on a deer's back with an intense fury while, well, doing what Landon says they do to deer.

And since "deers" are scarier to Landon than the bogey man is, I'm surprised he would have the desire to shoot an "aminal" that sounds to me like it is as against the deers as Landon is. Who would've thought a moots could be so detestable though. And where does this kid come up with this stuff?!

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.

The Saga Of The Missing Menu

I sat down at the table to work on a menu. Not the most life altering experience except that it has been a job I've been procrastinating for a long time. I keep getting this nagging, "you really should just get it done before you go to the grocery store again" feeling in the pit of my stomach but considering I barely get a grocery list scratched out -- much less a month's menu -- I was continually neglecting my calling in this area.

Just as I sat down, Landon came over with a pencil, sharpener and piece of paper.

He pulls his chair over right next to mine (and I was sitting on the END of the table... you know the place where only one chair is supposed to go? Yeah right.) He crawls up into his chair and starts making his writing lines.

Somewhere between writing "Chicken Enchiladas and Chicken and Rice," I teach him how to properly sharpen a pencil.

"No, we don't put the eraser in that hole," I instruct him. "That doesn't work very good."

I go on to the beef section of my food list and he's looking intently at my sheet of food.

What, he doesn't like my food choices? I wonder. And then I remember he can't read yet.

"Mom," he gets my attention. "Can you write a baby 'mmmmmmmm?' " he asks me.

So, I put two little humps together, forming a lower case "m."

"I want a big 'mmmmmmmmmmmm,' " he asks as soon as the little one was finished and I tried handing his pencil back.

So, I draw a really big 'mmmmmmmmmm.' Surely he'll be impressed with that.

He takes the pencil and carefully traces my big "m."

Then, he looks over my arm and stares at my paper again.

Here we go, I thought, knowing for sure he was going to tell me to skip the potatoe dishes and just put caramels on instead.

"There's a 'ssssssssssssss,' MOM!" he excitedly shouts, lunging across his paper and poking at the "s" in "tacos," while his needle point pencil is distractedly shoved into whatever is in it's way.

"Good job Landon!" I join in his happiness. "That's right! You found a 'ssssssssssss.' "

Now I have to draw a 'ssssssssssss' on his paper. Then another 'mmmmmmmmmm.' And then he decides he wants an 'aaaaaaaaaaaaa.'

I'm so glad he only knows 3 letters, I think to myself as I write down his letters and try to imagine having to write the entire alphabet between each entree' I write on my own paper.

He's looking at the cover of the curriculum book he and his dad are going through every evening, "Teach Your Child to Read In A Hundred Easy Lessons." He notices the 'tuh' (T) on the top of the book.

He's not supposed to know that word, I remind myself. The only reason he knows how to recognize it was because one evening I was trying to type on my computer and he kept grabbing my hands off the keyboard and telling me he HAD to find the 'mmmmmmm,' 'ssssssssssss' and 'aaaaaaaaaa' were. And then he saw the "t" and wanted to know what that one was.

"It's a 'tuh'," I tell him, hoping he'll leave the keyboard alone so I can finish typing. But, then he had to find the 'sssssssssss' but for some reason my "s" is worn off so you can't really see it; you just know it's there if you know how to type. I think I should write it back into the button because it would save a lot of time: he wouldn't give up looking for it until he found it.

When I came home from running errands one day, Microsoft Works on my computer had 43 pages of "m's" and "s's" and "a's" and "t's." Watch out grandparents: he'll be sending you letters before long I think.

I tried to get back to my menu but every letter, number and color was asked about. "What this?" and "What's that?" was said more often than not.

So much for a time saving, frugal focused, healthy menu, I muse to myself as I finally fold up my paper and plan to wait to work on it. It's hard to hide all the letters he knows so I can get my work done. To me, these letters are just part of the alphabet. To him, they're neon lights flashing at him. And the world is becoming more and more open to him as these letters seem to appear out of nowhere to this little guy.

"Oh Mom!" he shouts as he grabs my paper. "There's a baby 'mmmmmmmmm'!" he says as he points to the letter "m" in Beef Roast Meal.

"Good job Landon!" I tell him. "Now you write a 'mmmmmmmm.' "

"No, YOU write an 'mmmmmmmm'," he instructs me. "And a 'ssssssssssssssss', and a 'aaaaaaaaaaaa'." We work out who is supposed to write what and then he collects his papers while I collect mine.

I don't know what we'll have for supper tonight but I do know how exciting the letters M, S, A and T are. They may not spell anything yet and they may not even have names yet but wow, who knew those letters could be found in so many places?

If you read a blog on here in the near future that is missing letters, don't think I've gone crazy. Understand that it was the only way I could actually blog that day.