Friday, November 16, 2007

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...

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Things I Hope You Never have to Do, Say or Think

It's a bad situation if you have to tell your son to get out of the fridge. Literally, "get out of the fridge." And then he steps down and gets out. Literally. I mean, it's good that he gets out but the fact that you have to tell him to do that, is probably not a good thing.

Hopefully you'll never have to say that like I did today.

It's a rather pointless situation if you have a fire safety guy over to your house and while he's there, you put a pot of water on to boil and you unintentionally put the pot on the wrong burner. That is just not a good thing. I mean, it's like saying, "Hey, we play with fire at our house! C'mon over and show us how to stay safe!" I happened to do that just last night when he was here and came into the kitchen to find a flaming red burner in one corner of the stove with a cold pot of water sitting in another corner of the stove. Duh. That was really dumb. Good thing we had the fire safety guy over. It also didn't help that I had several candles burning around the house while he was here. I think I was really helping him prove his point for the need for high quality heat and smoke detectors.

Hopefully you'll never be as clever as I was. I'm sure Mr. Fire Safety felt his visit to our home was well worth his effort last night. (Now those people know what live flames can do to their home.)

It's a despairing thing to have to have such intelligent conversations like this at your house:

Mom: What are you doing up there? (son is precariously leaning over the deck rail with a tool in hand.)
Mom: Oh.... (mom dashes to said son upon seeing that said "tool" is actually a kitchen gadget.)
Mom: We don't cut the deck with a cheese slicer.
Mom: The cheese slicer is not for cutting the deck.
Mom: No, it can't take the deck off the house.
Mom: We just don't use the cheese slicer for cutting the deck.
Mom: Don't ever try it again.

Hopefully when this happens at your house, you will save your cheese slicer in time like I did today.

Other things you'll hopefully never have to say in one day:

Don't throw your food across the room.
You only need to cry like that if someone is chopping your foot off.
That smoke alarm is your friend.
Don't spit on the baby.
If you pull her hair, I'll pull your hair.
And no, I won't spit on you.
You both stop spitting.
If you spit again, I'll put tape on your mouth.

And hopefully by the end of the day, you'll have not completely lost your sanity. Because what the kids didn't try today, they'll be sure to try tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next time you turn your back.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Blog: No Time To

I just can't figure out it out. Everyday I read blogs written by mothers with lots of kids and almost always, their blogs are updated. Daily. Sometimes several times a day. And the part I can't figure out is the how-do-they-have-time-to-do-it part.

I have only 3 kids. Some of these women have 3 times as many as I have. Others have twice as many. Some have as many as I do. But they all blog daily. Or several times a day. Or at least several times a week. Plus besides having kids, they do tons of other things like.... home school, have a clean house, cook 3 times a day, decorate their house daily, sew all the time, paint anytime they want, live frugal, and never seem to be tired. I do none of that. And yet my blog goes for ages without having any sign of present life. That just seems wrong. I don't get it.

I reconcile myself with the fact that I do have three kids. And this is the first time I've ever had three kids. And it wasn't long ago that I had the third one. So, life is relatively unique, unusual and unrelenting.

Exciting too is another way to look at my life; never a dull moment. Not that those other moms don't have exciting lives but apparently I haven't figured out how to balance exciting with blogging. It's a mystery to me.

--- Like this morning when I opened the fridge and found a cell phone in there.

--- Or, going to church without a hem.

--- Nursing my baby all night -- and not just every 3 hours but rather for 3 hours at a time. And then for 3 more hours at a time. I'm tired and drained by morning --in more than one way.

--- Making a meal for a family and not getting the potatoes in the oven until an hour after we should've. (and we were going to serve the meal hot so an hour makes a big difference. Especially for potatoes.) Oh, and then the oven started smoking and Janae started hitting Alex with a horse and Landon threw a temper tantrum (I could almost safely say that was a first for him) and the phone rang twice with calls from friends I rarely hear from and the hubby was late coming home from work and was hurrying to get ready for jail Bible study when he finally did get home and I strapped Janae down in a chair just to keep the environment safe -- as well as the baby -- (she thought it was funny to be strapped to a chair...) and the baby needed to nurse and the house smelled like it was on fire, thanks to the oven, and the baby was screaming and the clock was ticking and the potatoes weren't getting done and I was running late with my screaming and hitting kids.

It just never slows down. It doesn't help either that I'm tired lately. Not just the oh-it-would-be-nice-to-take-a-nap kind of tired but the I-need-to-sleep-at-some-point-in-this-24-hour-period kind of tired.

So I drink coffee. Not just for nostalgia or for the smell or because I like aerosol bottles of whip cream to swirl into my coffee. I drink it because I need to. I used to not understand why some people talked about needing coffee. Now I can't understand how people live without coffee. Literally, that's my lifeline.

On a more positive and sweet note, Toby has been romantic lately. And I always like that. The good and romantic husband he is, Toby has thoughtfully considered the plight of his wife and her unquenchable need for one-on-one time with her spouse... especially at the beginning of the day. Not that he's not usually romantic, it's just that this romanticism is a rather new found routine he's settled us in. But, he is a morning person and I am a night person. Actually, right now I'm a anytime person -- as long as I got sleep at the other end of the clock. The morning setting is so fresh and sweet and new-dayish. There's something about facing the day ahead with the one you pledged your life to at your side. But I'm so tired in the morning and so can't keep my eyes open. He lovingly pleads me out of bed and tantalizes me with hot cups of coffee fixed just right.

And then he says (after I'm standing groggily in the kitchen) that it was my choice to get up and he's glad I made the right choice. (I'm thinking, "CHOICE???! You call that a choice?) I'm still glad he's so romantic and good though and helps me stick to my plan of getting up even if I only did get 3-4 hours of sleep the night before.

We sit on the love seat (a fitting place), and enjoy our steamy and creamy bean juice. We read the Bible, talk about the day's plans, discuss our kids and then pray. It's been a wonderful start for both of us and for me, this is the ultimate of romantic. I mean, I like flowers and that kind of thing but I LOVE one-on-one time just talking together. No kids, no distractions, no phone, no blog...

Okay, that last one was just plain mean, wasn't it? I do enjoy a good blog moment when it hits but I'm glad to sit quiet with just Toby and not think along blog lines or anything else.

By the time he leaves for work, Janae and/or Alex are usually up and BAM! just like that, the day starts. Tired or not, I'm still the mom.

So, that’s what is going on here, on the other side of my blog page. Countless times I can sit down with my laptop only to have to jump up, set the laptop down, hop/skip/run/fly to the other end of the room and rescue a baby from his sister. Or dash to the door where my two toddlers just escaped from. Or save a young man from being bitten by his sister. Or set up a train through the living room and dining room. Or make a snack of crackers and cheese and "neg nok" (egg nog). Or give coffee to my two year old. And by the time I find my laptop again, I've lost my blog moment.

And then nap time comes and I breath a sigh of relief (or is it exhaustion?) and tuck my children all soundly in bed. But, if one goes right to sleep, another one will insist on taking no nap that day. If the older two do go to sleep, the baby will decide that today is the day he will nurse through his entire nap. Or else. And if all three of them sleep, the phone rings. Or I decide to blog. But, rarely do I nap anymore because as soon as I go to sleep, within 10 minutes someone will wake up. It’s as if an alarm goes off or something. Now I know why my own mom used to talk about only getting 10 minutes for a nap. She always said it was just enough to keep her going through the rest of the day. That is so true for me. Plus, it’s all my kids will let me have and at this point and I take every second I can get.

So, if days go by without an updated post on here, know full well that life is just too exciting to have a minute to sit down and blog. And not only is my blog being neglected, my pillow is too.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

5 Years Ago Today...

A courtship began.

He was single; I was single.

He wanted a wife; I wanted a husband.

He "risked, reckoned and rested his faith" by asking my dad. (an excerpted quote from the letter itself.)

I rested in the risk he took to reckon his faith.

We began a week of emailing 6-8 pages a piece a day. Never talking on the phone until our relationship was several days deep. Every discussion was documented in those emails.

Okay, it was such an intense beginning, it caused us to get married a mere 3 months later.

He never told me once that he loved me... until he asked me to be his wife. I loved this part about him. And I'll never forget the first time he said, "I do love you." It was immediately followed with, "Will you be my wife?"

Do courtships like ours ever end? After 3 kids, 4 houses, 4 vehicles, 5 year's time of trial and error, I don't think so. We only love each other deeper.

5 years ago today, we fell in love for the first time, ever. And we stayed that way.

Happily Ever After is nice.

This Is The Way We Go To Church

So, my husband is the Sunday School Superintendent at our church. That means that every Sunday, he opens the service (after 2 songs) with a devotional that correlates with the day's lesson. So what. It's really no big deal. Except for one thing: we have to be about 15 minutes early. Yes, early. Every Sunday. Not just when early might happen, but every Sunday.

Did you get that yet? Early every Sunday. Not on time. Early.

Okay, I think you understand that I said early.

So, we left this morning to get to Church early. We had done an impressionable amount of preparation before Church since we were planning on having company for dinner. We even had the table set and everything. All was ready. And we were still early. We were half way there when suddenly, my husband moaned and gasped and sighed and slammed on the brakes all at the same time as he swerved on to the shoulder...

"I FORGOT MY BIBLE!" he groaned.

We turned around and went home, passing several fellow church members heading to church themselves. Wonder what they're doing? I'm sure was heard in every vehicle we passed.

So, we get home and we get the Bible and we leave for Church again. The kids were counted for, the diaper bag was counted for and the Bible was along this time.

We made it to Church. Toby and Landon ran into the building while I unfastened Janae and Alex. We were still early so everything had turned out fine. Technically, this should be the end of the story, right? Well, it's not.

I stood Janae on the ground and happened to glance at my dress. My dress that I had made a couple years ago and never worn. My dress that wasn't wrinkled or anything when I put in on that morning. "How convenient" I had mused earlier as I rushed around getting my family ready for Church. My dress that was supposed to be finished. And what should I find as I stood in the Church parking lot but that my dress was missing a hem. THE hem.

There were no extra hems in the van or in the diaper bag and I knew I couldn't borrow one from anyone at Church. So, I went home. Again. And I got a dress with a hem this time.

So, tonight when we leave for Church the first time, you can bet my husband will double check for his Bible and I'll be sure to check for my hem.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Becoming a Man

He's got the leg cross down and everything.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

On Outfits and Outlaws


Last week took an exciting turn of events for us. We embarked on a fast trip to Montana to visit family from Toby's side. His dad grew up in Sidney, MT. and many of his family members still live there and in the surrounding area. So, the last minute people that we are, we decided to set sail and see the world beyond our immediate horizon.It was a blast to say the least. And never a dull moment. From the 8 kids, 8 and under in our vans for 18 hours at a time to the way Aunt Lois laughed when she tried to tell us a funny story, we just really had a good time. Montana is a unique and rugged countryside. It almost feels like you step into a different country when you cross the great divide that is called South and North Dakota and enter the rough land of eastern Montana.
We were greeted by gigantically antlered deer, roaming the dark desolate highway as we sailed 70 mph in the pitch dark of Halloween night.
At one point after I had driven over 12 hours, I decided to look out the wind shield. The roads were so helplessly straight and boring, you could safely activate auto-pilot on your vehicle. Actually, I had been looking out the wind shield but had hardly looked up out of the wind shield. And what should I see but the Big Dipper straight ahead, just a couple feet off the road. I mean, it was like right there. Bright, obvious and straight. (I've always seen it crooked.) My mother-in-law commented that this was big sky country; my sister-in-law asked if that was the same big dipper we could see in Nebraska. It was that much different; you had to wonder if you had actually seen this Big Dipper before. There were so many things about this land that were unique and the more we drove into it, the more I noticed things I had never seen before. Such as 3 rows of cowboy boots all belonging to one person.
The night was so dark as we traveled west. I had never seen such darkness before. When we finally got closer to Montana, we reached a location that happened to have the moon on it's horizon. The moon was hazy, only partially there and barely off the ground. Even in it's vertically challenged state, I could hardly understand how it could shed that much light on the earth below. I think that's how desperate Western ND and Eastern MT are. They just don't have many conveniences out there -- except for a vivid view of the Big Dipper. After arriving at Toby's aunt and uncle's house (who so kindly hosted our entire 3 families and made us all feel right at home), I made the mistake and happened to ask out loud how far away Walmart was. Uncle Johnny said 80 miles; Ellagene said 50 miles and Lois assured with complete confidence that Walmart was only all of 45 miles away. Not wanting to be outdone by his sister, Uncle Johnny admitted that it just depended on what side of Sidney you came from (Sidney is a very small town) and Ellagene seemed to concure that maybe Lois was right but she really thought it was more than 45 miles. Then, they all three began to discuss at the same time when they had been there last, why they went, where they were travelling to when they went and finally, one of them admitted he had never actually been there before. A sister pointed out immediately that he had indeed been there and then launched into a story that surrounded her brother being at this Walmart, while he objected the entire time then finally admitted that he had been there once. Not wanting to be outdone by another sister, he quickly told me that he still couldn't remember being there even if he had been there like Ellagene said he was. Lois finalized the conversation with, "Really, Walmart is only 45 miles away." I snuck away quick before they began to argue again. That was the gist of every conversation. I finally understand now where Toby gets this tendency. I never have won an argument with him. Even when I am right, instead of admitting my rightness and his wrongness, he'll just say, "That's what I'm saying." It's very confusing. I've always told him that even when he is wrong, to him he's still right. I know that sounds complicated and maybe confusing but the fact you can't understand it, is probably a good thing. It also confirms that you are not a Nelson and don't hold title to this interesting and sometimes strange family. Not only do the Nelson's have a related blood line, they also have a related language. To put a plate under a soup bowl brings "sturbility," not stability. To own a Reverse Osmosis water system is to have a "OR system," not a RO system. Before I get myself in trouble naming too many Nelsonisms, I'll stop right there. This side of the Nelson's never surprised me on our whole trip because Toby's dad is notorious for changing words and even making some up. But, I didn't know this was such a strong Nelson trait until we went on this trip. This may sound scary to a non-Nelson but it doesn't really get that scary unless you find yourself saying phrases that sound just like a true Nelson. I was making a clear point about a deep, theological topic the other day and launched into a Nelsonism. My sister-in-law asked me to interpret what I said and say it in English so she could understand what I was saying. That was a scary feeling. I was intrigued with the way Montana was. The native tongue (though English) was unique. One day Lois was talking to her son, Bo on the phone and made reference to his arrival. She wondered if Bo and his friend would come in one outfit or two. I could not understand why anyone would need to share a change of clothes with their friend and both wear it at the same time. This I had to see.
When Bo showed up in his own car and his friend came later in another car, I realized outfit meant vehicle. But, not only does it mean the rig you drive, it also can define any electronic device, the clothes you wear and/or anything else you wish to call outfit. John and Lois did a tremendous job of showing hospitality and making us all comfortable and insuring that we felt at home. After driving 18 hours straight, I thought to myself as we neared their house, "All this driving and I don't even get my own bed." I didn't miss my bed in the least when we stepped in their lovely home. They were so loving and kind. If Sidney Montana ever opens a potato products factory and Aunt Lois runs it, be assured that each potato will be peeled and carefully sliced or diced by the woman herself. She has OCD (Oppressive Compulsive Disorder) when it comes to potatoes. Well, not quite to the extent that you're probably thinking but I couldn't believe how that lady would stand there for literally hours on end slicing potatoes in perfect slices. She said it was therapeutic. Someone told her she had an interesting therapy. She fixed the best meals I have had in a long time but seemed to somehow balance hosting and cooking with mingling in the crowd and visiting. Both her and Ellagene did an amazing job at rocking the babies to sleep and keeping up on the cooking and cleaning. Once, Gail, Ellagene and I all hopped in Ellagene's F150 outfit and headed to the Pamida. I couldn't believe the sky rocketed prices for such a primitive town. And the gas prices too. With oil rigs more prominent than green grass out there, no one could understand why gas was so high. Other prices were noticeable as well. Like, they told me that it's not unusual to find a gallon of milk at a convenience store for over $5. Wow. The morning we left, a couple cousins and an aunt put together an amazing breakfast at a early and ungodly hour in the morning. We were told it was going to be a quick breakfast of fruit and muffins but they meant more than just fruit and muffins when they said fruit and muffins. Fancy little quiches, hot ham, a large selection of cold cereal, several bowls of berries and fruits, huge muffins, cold juices and hot coffee greeted us when we stepped into the Church basement they hosted us in. We could hardly believe the incredible effort they all had gone to, just to see us. It was a nice start to our long trip home.
It was a fun trip though the hours in the van were incredibly long -- 18 hours out there; 15 coming home. We left Wednesday and came home Saturday. Crazy, I know, but it was well worth any effort. After 5 years of being in this family, I was so glad to finally meet the rest of the bunch. It was also a relief to find out that my own husband is only one of a kind. And to also learn that he's not as worse as they get. :) I haven't laughed so hard at the simple natural abilities of anyone in a long time. His uncles about take the cake over anything -- except for their sisters. L to R: Ellagene, Johnny, Lois, Nels. Seated: Gary. (Nels is Toby's dad, incase you can't see the similarity.

L to R: The Toby Nelson Family looking normal. Or, would this be us looking abnormal since we normally never look like this in real life?

-------------------------------------------------
I just went away and came back and found this: gtyguy5ujon4idf hfhgtyrrvhgrhbghyhfg. A guilty face on a cute little boy said it all. I wonder who he is related to...?

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

1st Hair Cut

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....)


The handsome boy!

Monday, October 29, 2007

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.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Ever Wonder Why You're Not Married Yet?

Check this site out here to find out why.

Just another reason why men should ask for directions...

(Link courtesy to this dear gal, and of course her sweet blogger cousin who first posted the above quote.)

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

12 Reasons Why I Love My Mother-In-Law

She likes to talk.

She likes to listen.

She never leaves me wondering what she's thinking.

She is a firstborn just like me.

She always has time for people.

She lends a hand and helps every chance she gets.

She likes to take my baby to her house just for fun.

She did a ton of my laundry.

She cleaned our house when we had to leave on an unexpected trip.

She made us a good supper tonight and brought it over.

She loves the Lord.

She raised my husband and he's a good man.

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.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

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.

Friday, October 19, 2007

A Pointless Post

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.

So yeah, this is an update.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

What Kids Don't Need

I was shocked when I read the news headlines on ABC.com this evening. I've hardly been able to see straight since I read it. It was something about parents being shocked at the age their kids should start taking birth control pills.

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.

A Pill will do them no good then.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

So Much To Say Yet Nothing At All

This blog has been sorely neglected.

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.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Urgent Prayer Request

We just received some awful and shocking news. My uncle (Mom's only brother) took his own life last night. Please pray for our family. We are devasted and completely shocked.

Though I received this news just minutes ago, I have learned that when someone close to your life dies, it's hard - we all know that - but when the life was taken on purpose by that person them self, the grieving is unlike a "normal" death. Not only do we feel the pain of his death but also the pain of what he did. You want to ask them "why" but you know it's too late. It's a shocking and sharp feeling that leaves you feeling numb.

He had a family, though very broken. Pray specifically for his 3 teenage sons. They need Jesus and especially so now. Your prayers are appreciated.

A Question on Ministry ::Reviewed::

Thank you to all of you that commented on my previous post concerning balancing our ministries as mothers with ministeries to other people. I appreciated each thought and word of encouragement shared and saved every one of your comments. Please feel free to continue sharing thoughts in the comment box.

I was reminded again recently at how refreshing it is to view issues in life through other's perspectives. And by each of the comments that were shared, I found myself renewed with a freshened vigor to continue my quest towards godly motherhood and to view that as my ministry today.

I was challenged to rethink my perspective on priorities and I have come away with a renewed hope and joy. The result of this entire discussion has multiplied in more than one blessing and I can joyfully say that "there is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus."

The previous post "A Question on Ministry" has been modified here. What is your perspective on how a busy fulltime mom of young children should venture into the opportunities of ministering outside her home? Feel free to share.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

On Motherhood and Zapping Wires

Fully realizing the desolate plight I depicted about myself in the last post, let me just say that sometimes 5 hours of sleep gives good reason to grab a cup of coffee and sit on blog spot to do something there other than one of the trillion things on my To-Do list.

That's why I'm here today.

About that list though, I did actually give myself the opportunity to cross something off! (I hear cheers from everywhere! Thank you, thank you, thank you folks! Oh, not a standing ovation....! [dabs eyes in appreciation]... ) Yes, you did hear right; something is finished on my list: The Bathroom.

Right now I really should be installing curtain rods in the livingroom but something about that drill in the drill box is telling me that it won't be an easy job. Especially since my husband won't be home for another 7 hours and it's already 3 in the afternoon. Can you say long day?

Long day indeed but I'm making the best of it. The guinea pig's cage is clean, sparkling clean I might add. The laundry is almost half-way done and boy, does that feel good. (The done part of the half way laundry is really making the difference in my outlook on laundry today.) The house is actually clean and picked up and looks like children don't live here. The kitchen is semi-in order which is actually a good thing for me since this kitchen seems to have a magnetic force that attracts magnets of clutter. The kitchen floor is (you better sit down before I say this) swept AND mopped. Wow. I won't have to mop for another 2 months now. The baby is sleeping. The oldest is sleeping. The girl is wide awake.

Yes, the girl. She is my trouble today. Although her brother helped her out a few times in enabling more trouble to produce from her sweet and angelic nature. After turning on the hose outside (an off limits action), he created enough reaction between water and dirt to cause a generous amount of mud to which his clean and well mannered sister became tempted by. Lets just say it was time for a bath. The kind of bath where you run bath water twice.

Because of the difficulty it's been to teach my son not to play with water when he's outside, I was running out of creative punishments that really hit home to his energized 3 year old heart. But, today he is learning on his own. The reason we don't jump off the arm of the couch onto the cushions of the couch is because our sister might be sitting there and her teeth just don't feel too good when you hit them at such a high speed.

So, I'll admit that I was glad to hear that some where in the process of playing in the mud he created, he had inflicted upon himself the sting from low voltage phone wires. This punishment was doubly applied since 1) he wasn't supposed to play with the hose and 2) he wasn't supposed to touch the wires. We all know that if we touch electric looking wires, we will most likely get zapped to some extent. We all also know that if we don't touch those wires, we amazingly won't get zapped. Before you think we have live wires within reach of our children, let me assure you its worse than that. We also teach our children to play on hot stoves and chase mean dogs. Okay, I'm kidding.

These wires I'm talking about are those tiny wires installed by the phone company that most normal people have behind a small, discreet box connected to outside of their house. You probably don't even know where it is unless you have phone trouble or if your kids take the box off and play in the mud with it. And then the dog chews on it or the screw gets lost or something happens to cause the box to somehow just not fit right anymore. So it falls off everytime the sun sets or the earth makes a turn on it's axle.

Without the box on anymore, it looks like we have a live bomb attached to the outside of our house. Not sure when the bomb will go off but with the way Janae is acting in her room today, I have to wonder if it went off and is projecting itself on my sweet, quiet, calm little girl. This tangle of wires is right outside her window.

Ironically enough, it's amazing our phone even works anymore -- or our internet for that matter. The entire contraption gets as much rain as our rain gauge and the only drawback we've had from it (besides the boy getting a little tingle on his finger today) is sometimes phone conversations will be a bit garbled up if we make or receive a call during a rain shower. If you ever wonder if it's raining at my house, just call and see if the connection is clear. That's more predictable than the weather alerts online.

Back to what I was saying about who was my trouble today, since putting the kids down for naps almost two hours ago, I have spent untold trips to Janae's room and back again. That 2 hours is longer than her normal naptime is. And she doesn't seem to get it that she must go to sleep before she can get out of her bed. "I'm happy now" she keeps saying when I tuck her back in. Ugh. Everytime I go back, there's something else on the floor, something else missing from the wall and another piece of creative evidence that she was out of her bed. I've changed her diaper twice and covered her up a million times. Besides sitting on her until she falls asleep, I'm not sure what to do since she just won't go to sleep. One thing I have never done is let my children get up by themselves if they haven't slept during naptime. I'm really not sure what she thinks she'll get out of this. Maybe she's hoping for the impossible... "Oh here Janae, you got out of your bed and are such a darling girl! Would you like to walk to the park and eat some candy?" I don't think so.

I am amazed at the amount of wisdom that is required when you live with little people like I do and call yourself Mom. Wow. I never thought it would be this hard. I've learned that it's hard to be a mom but it's even harder to be a good mom. I think Janae is just making me be a good mom today.

I had someone say to me once that I should reconsider my priorities. I agree 100%. My ultimate goal is to have my priorities straight. But for some odd reason, there is a great confusion on what priorities should be first. Are there other needy people that I should make an effort to help out? YES! But, my priorities are mixed up if I make it a point to be available to other needs at the same times that my children need my attention in a special way. Not that I don't desire to help other people but if I run off and pick up another burden not meant for me to carry, who is going to carry my load? Will someone be as willing to care for my children as I was to care for another need? The thing with raising a family is that when you are the mom, YOU are the care provider. YOU know what is needed there. You won't walk into church and find a sign-up sheet with your family's needs on it:

Train Landon
Discipline Janae
Care for Alex
Love Landon, Janae and Alex

Nope. These are the silent callings of motherhood on me. These are heavy burdens that everyone else sees as pleasant little people, not desperate impressionable souls. These are my little people. My mission fields and my treasure chests. What I put in them will be saved for all eternity. I fulfil each of those callings and I carry out the task in style, not in duty.

As I step back into my day today and resume The List and not the irrational temptation to take up solo jogging this afternoon, I am endeavoring to remember that at the top of my list is a 4 letter word that can never be crossed off: KIDS. But, not only are they kids; they are also MY kids. (so that's why they live here... I get it now!)

So, I am mothering with style today! (But, please come home soon hubby...)

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

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?!

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

On Running Backwards and Slimy Noodles

I finally figured out my problem. Yes, problem. You see, the Good Lord has blessed me with 24 hours in my day just like He's blessed the rest of you in the same way. But, with me, He also blessed me with 3 time stealer's... i.e. children. As if that wasn't enough to be blessed with, He gave me 8 loads of laundry to do. And then He required of me to do justly and be merciful to my family and feed this flock 3 times a day. With the food comes the fun of dirty dishes. Usually about that time, the precious baby is screaming because his swing is causing him to feel lonely. And as I walk to the swing to get the precious screaming lonely baby, I step on a slimy noodle and track the noodle all the way to the baby swing.

So, not only do I have 3 darling children, 8 loads of laundry, 3 meals to attend to, 3 kitchen cleaning sessions a day and 1 precious baby to comfort, I now have 1 sticky smeared noodle to pick out of the carpet.

You do the math:
24
3
8
3
3
1
-1
---
19

That leaves me with 5 hours left over. I usually use those 5 to sleep. If I'm lucky.

The other day Toby found a hastily scrawled 8 1/2" x 11" piece of paper that I had sitting on the buffet. "What's this?" He asked, reading down the sloppy list. I pleaded with him to treat the parchment like a sacred scroll because That Paper was My List. I took precious time out of my 24 hours to design that list. And I look at that list every few days just to see what else I could add to it. It's usually, "Clean noodles out of carpet" or some other monotonous thing. I'm thinking about putting "Change baby's diaper" on there just so I could actually cross something off.

I always thought 24 hours was a lot of hours. Until I had 3 kids. It seems like once my feet hit the floor in the morning, everything starts going backwards. My daily motto is "running 90 mph backwards." I call this frustrating; my husband calls it talent. He claims he doesn't know anyone that can run 90 mph backwards. "Well, hi my name is Courtney, I'm your wife and I can run 90 mph backwards."

Just recently, I spent all of one entire Saturday cleaning, sweeping, mopping and organizing the basement. You read that right, all day. In the huge process there were a few highlights. Such as me finding a snake skin behind the dryer, me killing giant crickets and fast spiders that hid under heavy bins and boxes and me saving an entire freezer from defrosting when I found it had come unplugged. On the way to church the next morning, Toby was complementing my successes. You know, doing what the Proverbs 31 woman gets when she finishes a job... "her works shall praise her." In our case, my works give their voice to Toby and I might add he does a fine job of encouraging me in this way.

I hate to admit this but lately, my unfortunate habit has been to occasionally moan to my dear husband about not being able to get anything done. When I worked so productively in the basement I think he was either praising me or else saying "I told you so" since he always counteracts each, "I can't get anything done" with "You'll get it all done." I seem to have a practice of complaining every night about my inability to actually accomplish something so maybe it's not as occasionally, as I like to think it is.

I mean, seriously, I can't even just sit and eat a meal without getting distracted in some way or another. I asked someone once what it was like to actually sit down at the table and stay there until the meal was done. I think if I did that, I'd feel like a child feels when their mom says, "you sit in that chair and stay there." I'd feel grounded.

Back to the Praising Works conversation we were having the morning after my big day... "I know Honey, it's great isn't it?" I said to him, both of us enjoying our clean basement. Then I went on, "But, I still could only cross maybe one thing off The List though." As if that wasn't discouraging enough, I then remembered that only half of the basement was actually considered done so therefore, I couldn't even cross "basement" off. I should've written "Half of basement" when I made The List. Or even, "Plan to clean all of basement."

So, back to my problem. I have 24 hours to get done what is seeming to take me several weeks to get done. Sometimes I look at The List and wonder if maybe I should just not sleep at night so that I could actually accomplish something without a baby screaming, kids falling off the steps, a child spraying water all over the bathroom floor, answering a toddler's deep theological questions ("Does God make you die?") or stepping on a wet noodle.

But, when you're running 90 mph backwards, it's nice to get a little bit of a break once in awhile. One of the things I've learned about my full 24 hours is that slimy noodles can always wait until morning.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Word Verification

I know how annoying Word Verification is so I will do my readers a favor and disable it. I hope the spammers don't get wind of this though. There is something freaky about going to your email inbox and finding 134 posts from commenters on your blog. Wow! I'm famous, is your first reaction. And then you find out it was some computer generated automated system that did that.

Word Verification keeps a blogger from having that despair.

But, then I hate it when I read a blog, go to comment and find I have to type in those "characters." Is that a 'g' or a '9' I'll wonder, and then hit enter and wait and then have to retype those 6 characters because I can't tell my numbers from my letters.

Now that I've disabled the annoyance for you readers, maybe that'll encourage some more comments on my blog?

Saturday, September 15, 2007

It's Game Day...

And I hate football. Okay, I know hate is a strong word so in other words, I detest and dislike and despise football. I mean really, what is so exciting about somebody catching or throwing a ball?

I live in “Husker” territory. For you college football fans, you know I’m not referring to somebody that works with corn but rather to the UNL football team. Today in the city of Lincoln, just a stone’s throw away from my doorstep is the game of the year being played. And what am I hoping? That “our” beloved team loses. My apologies to any Husker fans that may stumble on my blog. If you like the Huskers, you can put that on your blog. I dislike the Huskers and I’m putting that on my blog.

I found out recently from a friend that lives in Lincoln that he was really worried about the Huskers winning. Why? Vandalizing mobs break out when their team wins a victory. Weird way to celebrate, I know. It makes no sense to me either. And he lives in the heart of Lincoln. He was specifically worried about his 12 passenger van getting tipped over.

Today as I shopped and cruised around town, I was reminded again that today was Game Day by the see of red I saw everywhere. Husker Red. Everyone is wearing red; how dumb, I mused to myself.

Imagine my horror when I suddenly realized I happened to be wearing a red jacket today too. Totally Husker red. WHAT was I thinking this morning when I got dressed? You can tell I definitely didn't wake up with the game on my mind.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

The Sleeping Baby Dance

Do not expect this to work everytime. Your baby has to be just enough awake and just enough tired to comply with this formula. And even then this isn't a guarantee.

A side note before you continue --> The fact that your baby’s need fluctuate so much during the period of the dance, is in no way a reflection of your desperation. Your baby just wants variety. If you ate the same thing 6-8 times a day, you’d want some kind of change circulating somewhere in your life style. That’s how your baby feels. So that’s why he goes from being starving to neglected (and so forth and so on) in such a short time.


Here is my tried and true formula:

First, you feed the starving infant.
Then you diaper the neglected infant.
Then you try to feed the famished infant yet again.
Then you burp the painful infant.
Then you lay upon your chest the attention deprived infant.
Then you position upright the non-finicky infant.
Then you plop in the swing the swing longing infant.
Then you wrap in a snug blanket the cold infant.
Then you place a pacifier in the mouth of the suck induced infant.
Then you again change the diaper on the well fed infant.

Then you lose the pacifier and break the heart of your demanding infant.
Then you try another blanket on your needy infant.
Then you walk the restless infant.
Then you rock the unrestful infant.
Then you bounce the unrestfuller infant.
Then you walk, rock and bounce the unrestfullest infant.

And about the time you think you might need to look up on the internet again how to put infant to sleep, he suddenly, with no warning at all, leaves the land of the wakeful and heads right straight to dream land. Just like that, he’s gone.

He goes so fast you are concerned of his oxygen levels. So, you quickly shove a finger by his nose to check for adequate air. You count breath movements. You monitor his heart beats. You examine skin color and evaluate body temperature. And just to be sure, you gently shake him to check for reflexes.

You are pleased with your results and enjoy the wonderful fact that your child is actually sleeping! The only thing left is for you to head to bed yourself. Or so you think.

Unbeknown to you, the infant is playing possum. If you don’t believe me, put him in his bed and watch what happens. Then you repeat steps 1 through 17 above.

Enjoy your night!

Kid Klips

We Match!

While noticing his sister's pink outfit and my poison ivy infected leg, Landon made a keen observation.

"Mom," he said. "Janae's clothes match your poison ivy."


Bacon?

"Patty cake patty cake, baker's man...." Landon seemed to have the song down real well. Until the end, "Put it in the oven for 'bacon' and me."


Showers For Boys; Baths For Girls

After learning how to take a shower by himself recentely, Landon was boasting of his achievements one morning. Janae joined in and started talking about taking a shower herself. Not to be outdone by his sister, Landon told her, "No Janae; girls are for baths."

Laying Down The Law

Falling off the fence, toppling off the swing set, slipping off the swing, getting chewed on by the puppy, tripping and falling, etc. these are all very valid reasons for concern. But, I've had it with the crying. If there's one thing I hate, it's kids crying endlessly outside.

So, today I've laid the law down. Every time somebody cries outside they have to come in the house for 5 minutes. The timer is my best friend today.

As soon as I hear the crying, I evacuate the kid from the back yard and into the house. I hate sharing a screaming kid with the neighbors and feel it is my neighborly duty to not share such annoyances. The kid comes in and I survey their damage, cleanse their wounds and/or prosecute any sibling at fault with them. Being a mom in this situation means you're the investigator, news reporter, doctor, lawyer and cop all at once. Then, I make the child aware that because they were crying outside, they have to stay in the house for 5 minutes. At this point, we ceremoniously set the timer and I go back to what I was doing before the accident took place. The kid usually stands at the door quietly, looking out the window wishing they were outside.

I got to thinking as I watched my kids play out in the yard this morning. They have hardly any care or concern for their own safety and seem to enjoy the opportunity to cry every time they get hurt. Unfortunately, they seem to make up scenes so that they can fall or topple just to cry. The crying is worth the pain. By instigating some law and order out in our back yard, I'm hoping to help my kids realize that when they're careful, they usually don't get hurt, they don't cry and ultimately, they don't have to come in the house for 5 minutes of their precious day.

I mean really, climbing the fence is not exactly what a 3 year old should accomplish in his day. Of course he's going to get hurt. Flinging herself wildly on to the swing in a moment of playful frenzy, is perhaps a little risky for a 2 year old. We all know she'll get hurt. Or, letting the playful and hyper puppy out of her kennel is possibly not the wisest thing to do either. It's as if they walk around in the yard going, "hmmm, there's the dog, she has teeth, I want to get bit." And then they go open the kennel. Duh. And then I here wails and screams of the puppy mauling the kids. If you jump in the lions den, don't be surprised if you get bit just a little.

So, yes, call mean and cruel by making my kids come in from the great out doors for a whole 5 minutes but I really have to teach them somehow that there are consequences for unthinking behaviour.

Plus, I am really tired of having to share my screaming and bawling kids with the whole neighborhood. And I'm sure the neighbors are too.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

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!

Friday, September 07, 2007

Somebody Has A Birthday!

My dear brother Zack has a birthday today! Go here to get more details.

Happy Birthday Zack-Man!

Measuring Success

I couldn't figure out why I felt a measure of success today considering I was getting next to nothing done. The laundry sat unwashed, undried, unfolded and unputaway. The house was a mess. Beds weren't made. The kitchen was a wreck. The baby was fussy. Lunch was late. And then I remembered why I felt successful: my dishwasher had been unloaded and reloaded!

Never mind that it did take close to 4 hours to get done. But, no wonder I felt accomplished when it was finally finished.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

What To Do With A To-Do List

As if to play a part in an ongoing brigade of change and decay going on around here, our van has turned a gear and decided to add itself to our growing list of things to fix. The thing with that list though is the only thing that ever changes on it, is the addition of more items. Unfortunately, that list seems to not have a "cross off" feature on it.

Well, at least it feels like it somedays.

First it was the basement. When it rained, the rain gauge outside was the exact same as the rain gauge in our basement. Funny, huh? So we got smart and made sure all our storage items were in rubber maid bins or on top of rubbermaid bins. Fix the leak, I can hear you say but really, why go to the bother as long as you store nothing in card board?

So, my husband got smart. He researched leaky basements. And he found the perfect remedy: a a paint-like texture that once applied to the walls turns into a rubber-like substance which results in a complete water proof barrier. We could drop our house in the middle of a massive swimming pool and not get a drop of water inside. Sweet stuff.

I'm sure this stuff will do the trick eventually. The reviews were incredibly promising. Funny thing is that it just doesn't seem to work no matter how long we store it in buckets down in the basement. State-of-the-art repair man, that hubby is. (Actually, he really is when he has a little of that thing called "time." Ever heard of it? We sure haven't lately.)

But, riding even higher on our to-do list was the perpetual problems going on in our one and only precious bathroom. Talk about turn-of-the-century accomodations. Only, this was at least a century behind in function and performance.

For starters, the faucet leaked. No, not the drain; the faucet. We came up with an excellent solution. By positioning a container to collect dripping water under the sink, we aspired to repair the situation by just dealing with it in a very cost effective manner. The container would fill with water and then be poured out and then be put back under the leaky faucet. Great idea, I'm sure but we never were able to figure out where to put the container. The drips were inconsistent and sporadic and seemed to drop wherever the container wasn't.

At this point we realized why there was a hastily written handnote duct taped to the bathroom sink when we bought this house last spring: DO NOT USE SINK. (Tip ---> if your real estate company offers free plumbing inspections, accept them at any cost. Really.)

As if the leaky faucet wasn't bad enough, the drain volunteered its membership on our to-do list. It just completely quit working. If you couldn't remember if you had brushed your teeth that morning, you had at least until bedtime to check the bathroom sink for frothy toothpaste. Add shaving results and shaving cream to the frothy water and top it off with sudsy soap and by the end of the day you had quite the chemical reaction going on in the sink.

Yet, above all, the most inconvenient part of our bathroom was the shower. The faucet part where the water comes out was loose and rickety. If you pulled on it at all, you could see the pipe behind it. The stopper that you pull up on in order to activate the shower had completely malfunctioned. So, you technically couldn't take a shower but you also couldn't take a bath either because the plug for the drain was like a bath timer: you only had minutes to enjoy a full tub and suddenly, your dreamy bath soak turned into a shallow drought.

Embarking on a new career, my so-not-a-plumber-husband assured me he could fix it all. What man doesn't wish to rescue a damsel in distress, especially if that distressing damsel happens to be his wife?

So, that's when he got the bright idea about the container under the sink that fixed the leaky faucet. As for the anti-drain drain, he bravely picked it and pulled globs of slimy hair out. (what a hero!) And when it came to the malfunctioning shower, he turned to his roots (carpentry) and brought in a small load of wood. Yes, wood. With the skill of a brain surgeon, he strategically crammed several pieces of wood shims up into the faucet resulting in a permanent shower setting in our bath tub. This setting worked but the water pressure was pretty low because half of the water came out the faucet through the shim dam and the other half sprayed haphazardly out of the shower head. It took a whole hot water heater full to fully rinse your hair.

I'm not married to a plumber. And in case you didn't catch that I'll repeat: I'm not married to a plumber. Toby can fix about anything but that anything doesn't include plumbing or cars.

And just yesterday he informed me that the van's transmission is going out. But, I can't entirely believe him because just a few months ago he assumed something tragic had happened with our outdoor spigot of the home we were selling. So, for once he called the plumber. (Smart thinking.) Only problem was that the spigot had no problem: it merely needed the shut-off valve turned to on. That's why for him to conclude out of the clear blue that the van needs a new transmission, I'll not hold my breath until a real mechanic looks at it. Who knows? If the van is anything like the shut-off valve at our old house, the van could just need the oil changed.

Sweetly enough though, while we took our latest trip to visit my folks, Toby arranged for a plumber to come and totally repair our bathroom in our absence. I knew nothing of the arrangement either. I was more than just a little surprised and elated when we came home and found a modern bathroom in place of the previously dilapidated accommodations.

As a double feature, we not only get to enjoy our new bathroom but we also get to experience the thrill of crossing something off The List. Unfortunately, those slots on our List have already filled up and overflowed but at least we can enjoy a good shower in the mean time.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

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)