A Long Story about Ten Minutes of my Life

I had a very insane 10 minutes tonight, but first I need to give you the back story.  This past Sunday we had a small shin dig here at the house, and let's just say a house full of guys from your husbands fire dept plus rain leads to some nasty carpet!  We had cleaned the carpet on Monday, but then that afternoon the plague settled into the house.  What this means is this... the carpet cleaner was not put away in the closet (which honestly turned out to be a good thing), instead it was upstairs waiting to be put away.  Also, a small cooler that had not yet been put away, but was also serving the purpose of holding a sick kids drinks and snacks like a table of sorts, had also not yet been put away.  It was also still full of water from melted ice as I learned. 

I've spent the majority of this week catering to one sick kid or another, or both, all while fighting the crud myself.  I just had a different version of crud last week, so I'm pretty tired, and mentally drained as well.  Today made day 3 of the boys missing school, so I emailed their teachers and asked about picking up classwork so they don't fall too far behind and that was our afternoon plan... catching them up.  Well, napping, and catching them up.

The oldest is easy... easy in that he knows what to do on his own, difficult in that his math is starting to go beyond my ability!  He's at the table working on his stuff, the youngest is running laps screaming like a banshee...he is past the plague, feels fine and has not had ample time to burn off the energy!  Which leaves the middle one... ah yes, the middle child.  To be fair, he is very diligent about his school work, he is very neat and meticulous.  But considering we had more than one day to catch up on, and I had to cook dinner and get some cleaning done, I was not really interested in watching him color endlessly. 

So I'm sweeping the floor, and answering questions regarding distributive property and helping come up with a list of things to be thankful that start with each letter of the alphabet when I notice that the carpet cleaner has leaked all over the place.  I read somewhere years ago that laundry detergent is really awesome carpet cleaner (and it is!) but now I have a puddle of Tide on my floor.  It's laminate flooring thank God, but it's still a slippery mess, and it's under the shoe molding, and has leached onto my area rug as well.  Awesome.  I abandon my sweeping, and start cleaning up the Tide mess.  I practically shove the youngest downstairs, he's still running crazy, I'm still doing math and exactly what can you be thankful for that starts with an "I"... we never did figure that one out.  Since the little one is mad about being redirected downstairs, he takes it upon himself to dump the cooler over.  I hear the crying, head downstairs and there is a HUGE puddle on my carpet.  About 2 ft long or so, maybe more... apparently there was still quite a bit of water in there!  So I send him to his room, get a towel to soak up the water out of my freshly cleaned carpet, and attempt to resume cleaning up the Tide.  After about 2 minutes I hear "I smell dog turd!!!" bellowed from upstairs.  Turns out our pug was probably trying to gain my attention to go out, but in the chaos I hadn't noticed, so she used our bathroom instead.  Or maybe she just didn't feel like walking downstairs... she's pretty well known in our house for thinking that she gets to use the bathrooms just like we do.  I clean it up, and start a load of towels... including the ones now soaked in Tide, and the one soaking up water from my living room.  All the while wondering exactly what sort of fun is coming along next?

We eventually finished the math, nearly finished the list of what to be grateful for, and somehow I managed to make dinner and even eat a bite myself.  With any luck at least 2 of them will return to school tomorrow, and we can start again... this time minus the Tide/Water/Dog poop combination!

the middle kid

I could write and speak endlessly about my middle son, he was by far the most difficult one as an infant and isn't exactly easy these days either.  But I am not going to do that. (today)

Instead, I will write about how he was such a loving toddler, he loved to snuggle with me, to lay with me and give me kisses.  That even now, when daddy has a night at the fire dept, he will ask if he can sleep with me.  That at 5.5, really, almost 6, he gives me so many kisses at bedtime that he leaves my cheek wet and still asks for more.  That he still picks flowers from the yard, from the neighbors yard, or even sneaks one from Lowes and gives them to me with a big smile.  He will ask for paper to color instead of his coloring books, and draw me a picture with flowers to hang up... he could care less about drawing flowers, he'd rather draw cars and such.  But he says "flowers make you happy mommy!" and that's what he draws.  On the weekends when we don't have to rush off to school, he will happily lay on me and watch cartoons and be annoyed when I ask him to get up so I can refill my coffee.  That his sole complaint about kindergarten is that it's "such a big day" and he misses me.  He keeps telling me he needs a "smaller day" because being away from me for such a "big day" makes him sad.

He and I butt heads quite often, and I am realizing more and more that I am a big part of the problem.  Instead of laughing at his "twert-ness" I find myself frustrated with his antics.  I am expecting him to behave like "other kids" or even his older brother, and that's not fair.  It's not fair to him, as he is not like other kids, he's his own self. 

While I am not sure that I will ever be that mom who embraces random screaming or flooded bathrooms or hysterical laughter at inappropriate times, I need to love him more.  Somebody recently pointed out to me that when his younger brother was born, he was not quite 2.  I came home from the hospital with a newborn 7 days before his 2nd birthday, and I can still remember sitting on the couch watching him walk toward me... I missed him desperately while I was in the hospital!  But in any case, what was said to me was this... that at 2 years old, he just wasn't ready to share me yet.  He wasn't ready to stop being the baby.  If you've had a newborn, regardless of how they got to be a part of your family, you know how utterly time consuming they are, and your field of vision starts to tunnel to just the baby.  And for a barely 2 year old who was for sure a "mommy's boy" it was really just too much.

So here we are, he's started kindergarten, and we're navigating this new world with him, as he learns more independence, and how to read, and all the other fun stuffs that will happen this year.  And I'm going to make a better effort to love him more thru it all, to set aside time for just he and I, to give back all those sloppy kisses, and wait a bit longer before refilling my coffee so he doesn't have to get up.  I look forward to curling up on the couch with him, helping him learn to read and hearing his stories about what happened during his "big day" at school. 

I look forward to loving him how I should have been all along, and with any luck, he will still let me. 

Is this the wrong?

Our youngest has yet to master getting his clothes on correctly, as well as his shoes.  Every morning he runs naked into our room, holding his tiny underwear up to me, usually sideways or backwards and asks, "mommy is this the wrong?"  And every day I respond "tag in the back, son.  Tag in the back."  Sometimes at this point he will resume getting dressed, but more often lately he will repeat himself, asking again, "but is this the wrong?"

Same deal with shoes... we're still in flip flop season here, and you'd think he could feel "the wrong" having them on the wrong feet, but either he doesn't, or he doesn't care.  So many days I send them all to go pee and get shoes on so we can go out, and we go thru a round of "is this the wrong?" before we leave.  Then we get into the car, and for reasons unknown, he will remove his shoes, resulting in yet another "is this the wrong" before getting out of the car.

I have, and my other half as well, shown him the tags or the labels or whatever in clothing, and we chant "tag in the back" daily.  It seems to work about 60% of the time.

I am not sure if I should just find this endearing due to the fact that he's 3.5 and perhaps too young to be getting dressed independently, or if I should resume my thoughts of banging my head into the wall after hearing that question at least 15 times a day. 

Well, that's a funny lookin' penis

... from the mouth of the youngest yesterday.  Why, you ask?  Because I never, ever, get to use the bathroom alone.  I explained that I do not have a penis, because mommy is a girl, and girls do not have a penis.  "Oh yes they do!" was the come back, and as my child has never been to a Thai strip club, I could assure him that no, girls do not have penises.  What we do have, in fact, is a "fa-china" as his older brothers told him quite emphatically.

This makes the 3rd and final time I've had to go thru this discussion.  I look forward to when he decides to revisit this topic in public.  Say, Sunday around lunchtime, when most everyone is out of church, and at the grocery store.  I'm sure that like his two brothers before him, that he will make it a point to ask me if various people have a penis by pointing and loudly asking if they do.  There's really nothing quite like the expression of proper Southern Little Old Lady who has just been pointed at at close range by a 3 year old, who in 3 year old volume asks "Does that lady have a penis?  Oh wait, I forgot.  She has a fa-china."

Today's Moment of Grace

This afternoon our friend and neighbor was gracious enough to invite us over to play in the pool, during what was a very short break in our monsoon season.  The older two were over there having a grand time while I was home during nap time... even managed to get one myself!  In any case, later on once everyone was up I headed over with the youngest to join the fun.  She and I were doing the grown up bit, sitting at the picnic table while all the kids goof off and have a grand time, chatting about life.  She had to run into change her little girl and in those 5 min things fell apart ....and I now know that I would make a lousy lifeguard.

All 4 boys, my 3 and her son, were on this pirate ship float and it flipped, which is typically not a big deal.  Only my youngest somehow got his leg caught on part of it, with his head under the heaviest part as well.  So he was in full panic, and the boat was pushing him under a wee bit too... and therefore I was in mommy mode panic!  Here's where I get super graceful.

I couldn't seem to get out of my flip flops, no clue why, I was running the 10ft and trying to flip them off and it wasn't til I was very close to the pool that I got them off.  I'm certain I must have looked a fool trying to run and simultaneously trying to step out of shoes that were determined to stay on.  Then I hit the gate... they have a short fence around the pool to keep the kids in or out depending on the day, and it was closed since her little girl was not playing in the pool.  Of course, in my panic I could not get the gate open, and for a split second debated jumping it.  I stopped, figuring I'd end up jumping into the pool from too far away and breaking a leg, took a breath and got the door open.  Meanwhile my little guy is screaming for me, and my adrenalin is pumping.  I jumped in, and planned to miss the steps but I didn't... and not only did I not miss them, but I hit the very edge of a step right smack in the middle of my arches on BOTH feet.  These steps have a little lip to them for whatever reason and I nailed it, right smack dab in the middle of my feet.  He's still screaming and I now TRIP and twist my left ankle pretty decently trying to get off the stairs while the rest of the kids start pummeling me with questions like "do you even have a bathing suit on?" and "why are you jumping in so fast?" and "oh good, are you swimming too?"  I grab him, and as his foot is caught up, I almost smack his head on the same steps, so I have to lower him back into the water to free him, all while I'm barely able to stand because I have hurt my feet so damn bad.

I am now sitting here with swollen feet and a semi-swollen ankle, waiting for the Motrin to kick in, answering "mommy why did you jump in the pool in fast-forward?"  *sigh*

Pamela Anderson, I am not.  No slo-mo runs for me, no graceful dives into the water, and thank God, no cameras, because this afternoon was not one of my best in the grace department.

Camp

Yesterday I dropped my oldest off at Scout Camp.  He's 9.5 now, and while he's been on plenty of sleep over's, the longest I've ever been away from him is when I was in the hospital delivering his brothers. So that being said, yup, I cried, I admit it. 

I knew we'd have to do a bit of walking around in the pouring rain at drop off, and it was during the time of the little ones nap, so I conned my friend into keeping the younger two at her place for that time.  I was having this vision of the youngest being all he could be because we'd be skipping nap, while the middle one cried about not wanting big brother to go, while we trudged thru the mud and rain... all with me biting my lip so I don't cry too, and figured going alone was a much better idea!

He was so excited, although a bit nervous I could tell.  He gets clutzy when he is anxious, starts getting kinda spastic... he managed to drop his brand-new-3-seconds-ago-issued-camp-shirt into the mud, and then about 2 min later slipped in the wet grass as well.  I had to be all cool, like it was just no big deal at all for me to drop off my 1st born, to sleep in a tent, alone, having zero communication, and head off.... fa-la-la-la, have fun kiddo!  And I did.... but pulling out of the camp I was staring hard at him, almost willing him to spin around and wave but he didn't.  *sigh*  He's so grown up. 

What would happen if...

This is a question I'm asked all the time with insane expectations, by the little one.

~ Mommy, what would happen if the orange towel was on the floor? 
Ummm... the orange towel would be on the floor. 
~ No, but what would HAPPEN? 

~ Mommy, what would happen if I was in time out, my brudder was in time out and my udder brudder was in time out, and you too? 
Well, kiddo, that would be nice for me.
~ No, but what would HAPPEN?

~ What would happen if a police arrest himself?
They can't do that, if they had to be arrested another policeman would have to do it.
~ No, but what would HAPPEN? 

~ What would happen if you drove daddy's car?
Umm.... I would drive it I guess?  Is this a trick question?
~ No, but what would HAPPEN?

Pretty much all of these result in me staring, deer-in-the-headlights type of stare, at my youngest while he asks me over and over "but what would happen?"  I am not sure what the answer should be, or what he expects to hear, or truthfully, what on earth he is really asking.  Either way, it makes up for about 40% of the qustions I get from him.  What would HAPPEN?

Rain, rain, go away...

I swear I could write one of those "Day 264 of my captivity" type of jokes right now.  Seriously, being stuck in a house with 3 boys during what seems to be endless rain is simply mind numbing.  I have seen more Phineas and Ferb than I have in a year.  I have watched them play Wii for hours, and learned which parts of the games to cringe at over the noise it will make.  I have ooo-ed and ah-ed over the numerous Lego builds.  I have also broken up too many arguments to count, sat them in time out more than I can remember, and and yelled entirely too much. 

Yesterday we got a "new" Wii game, one my oldest had played at a friends house.  He got his brothers all hyped about it, and when we managed to find it the excitement that came with it occupied about 8 hours.  We broke it up now and then, but seriously, this morning at 7:03 they thought they would start again.... oh to learn such disappointment at such a tender age!  Sorry boys, we're taking a break from technology this morning so you can rebuild some brain cells! 

Sleepover Fallout

Last night my oldest son had a sleepover at a friends house.  They went to be fairly reasonable for sleepover time, 10pm, only my kid wakes up by 7am regardless of his bedtime, which means he is punchy and borderline crying most of the day today.  This isn't the only thing that contributes to "Sleepover Fallout" though.  His younger brother, my 5.5 year old, misses his big brother terribly when he spends the night at a friends house.  To the point of crying and sobbing, and then over compensating when big brother returns the next morning.  Trying to be all cool, so big brother won't ever again decide to stay the night away, only all he succeeds in doing is driving big brother nuts, and being mean to little brother.  The youngest is upset that he's being ignored today so that the middle one can try to recover lost time, and is upset that they are both pretty much being mean to him.

All of this adds up to "Sleepover Fallout."  And what that means is that while I LOVE a break from having 3, and I know he's off having fun and is safe and all of those wonderful happy things, I regret it all day the day next day.   

Is it possible to get a break from the mundane schedule without disrupting that same mundane schedule?

Bored Kids are Bad Kids

Whew!  Today I had a ton of phone calls to make, just one of those days I suppose.  At one point I whispered to my youngest to go find his shoes so he could go play outside with his brothers.  He returns with 1 flip flop on, and on the wrong foot I will add, and black marker all over his face.  WTF?  Why?  This means instead of looking for his shoe, or looking in the way that small boys look, which means unless it smacks them in the face it does not exist, this means that he went to the junk drawer, found a marker and thought 'hey!  I'll draw on my face with this bad boy!'  I really wonder what on earth goes thru their minds!

At some point all 3 did get along well enough to build a "fort" out back, which is lawn chairs, a pitchback, and a blue tarp.  Of course, there just is NOT enough room to make a seat for the youngest, which results in screaming... his screaming, and then my screaming at them.  *sigh*

It's going to be a long summer.

First!

First!  Are your kids competitive?  Holy Jeezus that drives me insane!  "But IIIIII want to be first!"  Seriously, everything in life is NOT a race.  Pee at your own speed, wash your hands at your own speed, and for the love of God, if you really want to race, then see who can clean up first.

My youngest is constantly trying to keep pace with his big brothers.  I am not sure if this is a boy thing, or a kid thing, or a my house only thing, but the level of whining that comes along with somehow *NOT* ending up first is rather astounding.  This morning he is attempting to play a Wii game with them, that is way above his ability, and he's pissed.  Because it's early, the older 2 are being a bit patient, and trying to give him cues of what to do and when, only because he's pissed he doesn't want to do that either.  Whining is SO much easier and apparently SO much fun!

Today I am stuck with them 3 alone, the other half is off at a firefighting class from 8-5, then heads to his EMT class directly from there, 6-10.  And I have to be here at least from noon til 3... sometime after noon our insurance adjuster is going to show up (lovely hail damage to my van) which will run into nap time.

Fingers crossed today isn't the day that I end up in the news.