My mother-in-law came to visit us a couple of weeks ago, and in the course of laughing about all of the craziness that comes with kids, she told about a speaker she heard long ago. Apparently the speaker jokingly told the women (more or less) that the most important part of motherhood is to make sure that, before you walk out the door, you check to make sure you don't have oatmeal in your hair.
In the past week, this has become much more meaningful to me.
First, there was one day when I was cleaning up lunch and realized that I had sat in the same chair my toddler had used for breakfast, but I guess I failed to notice the oatmeal he had spilled on his chair, because I found it all over the seat of my pants. But not in my hair. And I didn't actually walk out the door that way.
Then came Sunday.
This past Sunday my husband woke up early and went to his leadership meetings at the church. I woke up with him, began my personal scripture study, and refreshed myself on the Sunday School lesson I would be teaching that day. When I was finished reading, I put my head down -- just for a minute, I thought -- but promptly fell asleep and woke up much too late to be able to make it to church on time with five kids.
We scurried around getting everyone ready, and made it there about five minutes late. There were no seats left near the back, so we ended up having to walk all the way up to the second row, dead center, where there was a row with enough room for all of us.
We hadn't been there five minutes when the baby started crying, so I took her out, again walking past everyone in the entire congregation.
I sat down in the mother's room, where there was already one other mom caring for her baby. She looked over at me and remarked, "You know, you have a band-aid on your skirt." I looked down, and sure enough, there was my son's used band-aid, stuck to my red skirt, not camouflaged at all.
So, um, yeah -- I went to church with a band-aid stuck to my skirt. I think I might have been better off with oatmeal in my hair.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Blame it on the State
My 7-yo is obsessed with how much he weighs. At every meal he asks me whether all the food we're eating is "healthy." He gets on the scale several times a day, before and after meals, to see how much the meal affects things. Anorexic? Nope. He's trying to GAIN weight.
Why? Because Maryland recently passed a new car seat law that essentially requires kids to ride in a booster seat until they're 8 years old (or 4'9", or 65 pounds.) This, wouldn't really be an issue if he had been riding in a booster all along, but it was only a few months previous that we had decided he was big enough to ride with just a seatbelt. He HATES his booster seat, though. So while he will turn 8 in February, apparently that is just not soon enough for him and he has decided that he needs to get bigger.
The funny thing is that he barely breaks 50 pounds now, but he wants to make sure he is always eating healthy foods so he can "get bigger faster" and meet that 65 pound mark. I am not really complaining yet, because it means he eats all of his dinner now, and asks for seconds on vegetables. And, of course, WATER, he says, is the "healthiest thing of all," so I often find him drinking glass after glass of water, and jumping on the scale after each one (not even noticing how much more he has to go to the bathroom.)
So how long do I wait before I tell him that he'll gain weight faster by eating junk food?
Why? Because Maryland recently passed a new car seat law that essentially requires kids to ride in a booster seat until they're 8 years old (or 4'9", or 65 pounds.) This, wouldn't really be an issue if he had been riding in a booster all along, but it was only a few months previous that we had decided he was big enough to ride with just a seatbelt. He HATES his booster seat, though. So while he will turn 8 in February, apparently that is just not soon enough for him and he has decided that he needs to get bigger.
The funny thing is that he barely breaks 50 pounds now, but he wants to make sure he is always eating healthy foods so he can "get bigger faster" and meet that 65 pound mark. I am not really complaining yet, because it means he eats all of his dinner now, and asks for seconds on vegetables. And, of course, WATER, he says, is the "healthiest thing of all," so I often find him drinking glass after glass of water, and jumping on the scale after each one (not even noticing how much more he has to go to the bathroom.)
So how long do I wait before I tell him that he'll gain weight faster by eating junk food?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Why Do I Try?
I actually folded some laundry today. However, I haven't even put it away yet BECAUSE...
While I folded laundry, my 2-yo ate rice in the livingroom. There are now a billion grains of sticky rice all over the carpet -- not even centrally located. And I just vacuumed yesterday. And I'm supposed to be getting ready for all the grandparents to stay here for the weekend.
But we're smiling. 'Cause, you know, in 50 years I'm going to MISS this. I just know that I will be looking around and wondering why there's nobody there to dump rice on my carpets.
So now, do I clean it up, ONE sticky grain at a time? Or do I wait for it to dry and try to vacuum it, taking the chance that it will instead glue itself to the carpet fibers? Or do I go put away the laundry and try to not think about the rice?
While I folded laundry, my 2-yo ate rice in the livingroom. There are now a billion grains of sticky rice all over the carpet -- not even centrally located. And I just vacuumed yesterday. And I'm supposed to be getting ready for all the grandparents to stay here for the weekend.
But we're smiling. 'Cause, you know, in 50 years I'm going to MISS this. I just know that I will be looking around and wondering why there's nobody there to dump rice on my carpets.
So now, do I clean it up, ONE sticky grain at a time? Or do I wait for it to dry and try to vacuum it, taking the chance that it will instead glue itself to the carpet fibers? Or do I go put away the laundry and try to not think about the rice?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Funnest . FHE . Ever .
My son has a science project due on Friday. Yes, this coming Friday. Halloween. And it is not just a cute little science project. He is supposed to build a roller coaster. When he came home with the assignment, my jaw dropped. Partly because he had a different science-fair-type-project due LAST week, and partly because I have started to realize that whenever HE has a huge homework assignment, my life has to temporarily revolve around that project -- helping him gather materials, making sure he doesn't completely procrastinate until the last day, protecting the half-finished project from tiny fingers, getting half-finished projects out of my kitchen, and so forth.
Thus, the inspiration for tonight's fun came when I was complaining to my mom about the assignment, and she suggested that a very good "material" for the coaster would be the tubular foam used for insulating copper pipes. Brilliant. It is still hard for me in my pride to admit that sometimes mom really is a good resource. Even better than Google.
And it came to pass that we went to Home Depot to begin our Family Home Evening, singing, singing all the way. (I need to emphasize here that my husband is in Montana for the week, so *I*, by myself, took all five kids to Home Depot. And we made it out alive. With only one trip to the restrooms. And we didn't break anything. In fact we spent less than $10 there.)
Incidentally, we found the foam stuff. It's only $1.18 for 6 feet! We bought 6 tubes and cut them in half lengthwise. Then we taped it together and started "experimenting" with different configurations -- all over the house. Up, down, looping, going all around. Combine that with about a hundred marbles, and all of my kids (well, except the baby) were entertained for more than 2 hours straight. And they learned stuff about physics. (I know, because I made them tell me what they learned. Just so I wouldn't lose the well-deserved title of "boring.")
Anyway, it's educational. It's cheap. It's fun. You will love it! OK, so maybe it's not the absolute funnest thing ever, and maybe the only reason I think it's fun is that I'm secretly a nerd at heart, but my kids seriously did not want to stop, and they want to do it again tomorrow.(Good thing, because my son still has to make one small enough and sturdy enough that he can take it to school on Friday. And then he has to write a report about it.)
Disclaimer: Technically, while I have a 2-year-old, and while he loved this activity as much as the others, marbles are not intended for children under 3 years old. Neither are matchbox cars, legos, or train sets. Or sharpies. So, um, yes, I'm a bad mom. And if you're a good mom, you won't actually let your kids do this unless they're over 3. Or at least you won't blog about it until they're over 3.
Thus, the inspiration for tonight's fun came when I was complaining to my mom about the assignment, and she suggested that a very good "material" for the coaster would be the tubular foam used for insulating copper pipes. Brilliant. It is still hard for me in my pride to admit that sometimes mom really is a good resource. Even better than Google.
And it came to pass that we went to Home Depot to begin our Family Home Evening, singing, singing all the way. (I need to emphasize here that my husband is in Montana for the week, so *I*, by myself, took all five kids to Home Depot. And we made it out alive. With only one trip to the restrooms. And we didn't break anything. In fact we spent less than $10 there.)
Incidentally, we found the foam stuff. It's only $1.18 for 6 feet! We bought 6 tubes and cut them in half lengthwise. Then we taped it together and started "experimenting" with different configurations -- all over the house. Up, down, looping, going all around. Combine that with about a hundred marbles, and all of my kids (well, except the baby) were entertained for more than 2 hours straight. And they learned stuff about physics. (I know, because I made them tell me what they learned. Just so I wouldn't lose the well-deserved title of "boring.")
Anyway, it's educational. It's cheap. It's fun. You will love it! OK, so maybe it's not the absolute funnest thing ever, and maybe the only reason I think it's fun is that I'm secretly a nerd at heart, but my kids seriously did not want to stop, and they want to do it again tomorrow.(Good thing, because my son still has to make one small enough and sturdy enough that he can take it to school on Friday. And then he has to write a report about it.)
Disclaimer: Technically, while I have a 2-year-old, and while he loved this activity as much as the others, marbles are not intended for children under 3 years old. Neither are matchbox cars, legos, or train sets. Or sharpies. So, um, yes, I'm a bad mom. And if you're a good mom, you won't actually let your kids do this unless they're over 3. Or at least you won't blog about it until they're over 3.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I Was Winning All Along and Didn't Even Know It!
Every once in awhile I have a realization of such proportion as to shake my view of reality forever. This one happened the other day (meaning, like, two months ago. yikes.)
I was still pregnant, and we were desperately trying to decide on a name for the new baby girl. I had narrowed my list down to a few favorites, but my husband didn't really seem excited about any of them. He just kept saying he wanted to go get some baby name books from the library. I found several baby name web sites and tried to refer him to those, but he was still pretty insistent on using the books. Then he got them. And he studied them. Devoutly. And he made his own list.
At the risk of offending people who may have these names, I have to say that I was surprised. Halcyona? Melisande? Shield? ???
The next day, sitting in church, I was reflecting on his name list (while, um, simultaneously reflecting on what was being said... and keeping my kids from exploding in the pew.) As I looked at my four other children, and thought about THEIR names, I suddenly realized that if the naming process had been entirely up to my husband, my boys would have names like Axe, Abner, and Aerk. (Not even exaggerating a little!)
And that's when the REAL realization came. For the past ten years I'd been thinking that WE, together, decided what to name our kids. And to some degree that was still correct, because we had together narrowed down our lists and decided on the final names. But in that moment, I realized that for the past ten years I'd been vetoing every name he suggested, and that nearly all of the names that actually made it to the list were MY suggestions. Admittedly, if I had to do it over again, I'd STILL probably veto them, but I started to wonder what that says about us. Is it an indicator of how wonderfully persuasive I am? Or how incredibly selfless he is? Or just that his names were destined to be dismissed... Should I be proud of the fact that I'd been "winning" the name debate? Or embarrassed that I hadn't given more serious thought to his suggestions?
Either way, I have to say that I like my kids' names. I think THEY like their names. But maybe if we have a 100 more, or if I break down and let my kids get a pet, then we can pull out the name Melisande.
I was still pregnant, and we were desperately trying to decide on a name for the new baby girl. I had narrowed my list down to a few favorites, but my husband didn't really seem excited about any of them. He just kept saying he wanted to go get some baby name books from the library. I found several baby name web sites and tried to refer him to those, but he was still pretty insistent on using the books. Then he got them. And he studied them. Devoutly. And he made his own list.
At the risk of offending people who may have these names, I have to say that I was surprised. Halcyona? Melisande? Shield? ???
The next day, sitting in church, I was reflecting on his name list (while, um, simultaneously reflecting on what was being said... and keeping my kids from exploding in the pew.) As I looked at my four other children, and thought about THEIR names, I suddenly realized that if the naming process had been entirely up to my husband, my boys would have names like Axe, Abner, and Aerk. (Not even exaggerating a little!)
And that's when the REAL realization came. For the past ten years I'd been thinking that WE, together, decided what to name our kids. And to some degree that was still correct, because we had together narrowed down our lists and decided on the final names. But in that moment, I realized that for the past ten years I'd been vetoing every name he suggested, and that nearly all of the names that actually made it to the list were MY suggestions. Admittedly, if I had to do it over again, I'd STILL probably veto them, but I started to wonder what that says about us. Is it an indicator of how wonderfully persuasive I am? Or how incredibly selfless he is? Or just that his names were destined to be dismissed... Should I be proud of the fact that I'd been "winning" the name debate? Or embarrassed that I hadn't given more serious thought to his suggestions?
Either way, I have to say that I like my kids' names. I think THEY like their names. But maybe if we have a 100 more, or if I break down and let my kids get a pet, then we can pull out the name Melisande.
On the Passage of Time
I am inspired. Apparently I haven't been inspired for awhile, because, well, I haven't written anything since July, and now it's October. And October's almost over.
Actually, a more accurate statement would probably be that right now I have two hands free at the same time, and apparently THAT hasn't happened since July, because I know that on a daily basis I am inspired enough to compose entire blogs in my head. HOWEVER, having them in my head doesn't get them posted.
Back to being inspired though. In the past week, some very long-lost friends have found my blog and commented on it. This has happened despite me not writing anything since July. So I decided I needed to write something. But then I had this problem where I have countless blogs already composed in my head, and I have to decide which one do I use to re-enter reality after surviving the summer, starting school, being immersed in homework, welcoming a new baby girl, and returning to that mom-of-a-newborn stage where my eyelids need to be pried open in the mornings.
But instead, to emphasize how quickly the past few months have escaped me, I share the following story.
The other day (meaning the first week in September) I was at the ATM and was trying to deposit a check. I punched all the numbers in and waited for the magic beeping sound signifying that the machine was ready for me to insert my money. It never came. Instead I got this crazy error message on the screen telling me that my card had expired. I looked at the card. WHAT?! It hasn't expired! It must be a mistake!
So I tried again. Punched in the numbers. Waited for the beeping. Again, error message. Your card has expired. I was baffled. What was I supposed to do? In the five years since we opened our account I have not set foot inside the bank. I also had two cranky kids in the car and had no desire to go inside of a bank anyway. (This is, incidentally, one reason why I opt for the ATM or on-line banking whenever I can! The other one is that I would really rather not have to think about what to say to a human, especially at the bank. It's about as bad has having to call the insurance company!)
So I pulled into the drive-through teller lane. I was pretty annoyed by this point, especially because I was going to have to talk to a human at the bank when I JUST wanted to DEPOSIT my STUPID CHECK! I got the cute little cylinder out of the whoosher and inserted my check. (What are those things called anyway? The things that whoosh your money over to the attendant?) I started writing a note to the attendant so that I could send over my ATM card and ask them why their machine is so STUPID that it thinks my card is expired. Mid-epistle, I stopped short. I looked at my card.
Right there on the card it said "Expiration date 09/08." And in my head, it was, "oh about 06/08 or something, definitely not 09/08. That sounds so late in the year, and it would have to be, let's see, the ninth month. That's September. ... ... Whoops. It IS September. My card is expired." Don't I feel stupid. So I went home and looked in my "files" to get the new cards the bank had sent who knows how long ago. And I kept looking at the calendar. Wow! It's September! And now of course, it's October.
Anyway, all of that was just to emphasize that I have no concept of time right now. And tomorrow my new baby will be four weeks old. Life is such a blur. Maybe I just need to get some sleep!
Actually, a more accurate statement would probably be that right now I have two hands free at the same time, and apparently THAT hasn't happened since July, because I know that on a daily basis I am inspired enough to compose entire blogs in my head. HOWEVER, having them in my head doesn't get them posted.
Back to being inspired though. In the past week, some very long-lost friends have found my blog and commented on it. This has happened despite me not writing anything since July. So I decided I needed to write something. But then I had this problem where I have countless blogs already composed in my head, and I have to decide which one do I use to re-enter reality after surviving the summer, starting school, being immersed in homework, welcoming a new baby girl, and returning to that mom-of-a-newborn stage where my eyelids need to be pried open in the mornings.
But instead, to emphasize how quickly the past few months have escaped me, I share the following story.
The other day (meaning the first week in September) I was at the ATM and was trying to deposit a check. I punched all the numbers in and waited for the magic beeping sound signifying that the machine was ready for me to insert my money. It never came. Instead I got this crazy error message on the screen telling me that my card had expired. I looked at the card. WHAT?! It hasn't expired! It must be a mistake!
So I tried again. Punched in the numbers. Waited for the beeping. Again, error message. Your card has expired. I was baffled. What was I supposed to do? In the five years since we opened our account I have not set foot inside the bank. I also had two cranky kids in the car and had no desire to go inside of a bank anyway. (This is, incidentally, one reason why I opt for the ATM or on-line banking whenever I can! The other one is that I would really rather not have to think about what to say to a human, especially at the bank. It's about as bad has having to call the insurance company!)
So I pulled into the drive-through teller lane. I was pretty annoyed by this point, especially because I was going to have to talk to a human at the bank when I JUST wanted to DEPOSIT my STUPID CHECK! I got the cute little cylinder out of the whoosher and inserted my check. (What are those things called anyway? The things that whoosh your money over to the attendant?) I started writing a note to the attendant so that I could send over my ATM card and ask them why their machine is so STUPID that it thinks my card is expired. Mid-epistle, I stopped short. I looked at my card.
Right there on the card it said "Expiration date 09/08." And in my head, it was, "oh about 06/08 or something, definitely not 09/08. That sounds so late in the year, and it would have to be, let's see, the ninth month. That's September. ... ... Whoops. It IS September. My card is expired." Don't I feel stupid. So I went home and looked in my "files" to get the new cards the bank had sent who knows how long ago. And I kept looking at the calendar. Wow! It's September! And now of course, it's October.
Anyway, all of that was just to emphasize that I have no concept of time right now. And tomorrow my new baby will be four weeks old. Life is such a blur. Maybe I just need to get some sleep!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
How to do a "Tongue-Plant"
My 2yo just did something I didn't know was possible. He did a face-plant onto my kitchen floor and landed on his tongue. I'm guessing you would call that a "tongue-plant." How did this happen, you ask? Well, I will attempt to answer, while avoiding his light saber wrath.
He was standing on a stool, having a tongue-out, shout-of-glee party with me. In essence, we were taking turns yelling and laughing -- all with mouths wide open, and in his case, with his tongue sticking out.
At one point he decided he wanted his head to be a little closer to mine, so he stepped off the stool, but didn't quite catch his balance and fell face-forward onto the floor, tongue still hanging out of his mouth, leaving a huge wet spot on my kitchen floor. The amazing part, though, is that there wasn't even any blood!
Oh, the feats that a 2-year-old boy can discover! A new olympic event, possibly?
He was standing on a stool, having a tongue-out, shout-of-glee party with me. In essence, we were taking turns yelling and laughing -- all with mouths wide open, and in his case, with his tongue sticking out.
At one point he decided he wanted his head to be a little closer to mine, so he stepped off the stool, but didn't quite catch his balance and fell face-forward onto the floor, tongue still hanging out of his mouth, leaving a huge wet spot on my kitchen floor. The amazing part, though, is that there wasn't even any blood!
Oh, the feats that a 2-year-old boy can discover! A new olympic event, possibly?
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