We were waiting to see the doctor for Max's five-year-old well-child check up. For some reason, going to the doctor makes Max ultra-hyper. But in the midst of jumping up and down on the exam table, Max suddenly paused and said, "I wish we had another baby."
My youngest is not yet two, so my man and I haven't really considered whether or not we are going to have another kid. Max's comment took me by surprise. "Why do you want another baby?"
"Because Third is tall now," he explained. Apparently, someone in the family must always be shorter than 33 inches.
"Do you want a sister this time or another brother?" I asked. Personally, my feelings on this subject are a bit mixed. I have always wanted a daughter to help me bear the burden of testosterone overload in this house. However, I have become very accustomed to all males and the thought of a child who wants to wear make-up, be fashionable, and carry around a purse is kind of unappealing. I would not call myself a tomboy, but I have never been interested in all that nonsense.
"I hate sisters," said Max.
I laughed. "You don't even have one. How do you know you hate sisters?"
"Because," he said. "Once I was at somebody's house and there was a sister and she kissed me."
Well, that settles that.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
How Much Cheese Can My Husband Eat?
This Christmas I made cheese logs to give away to family and friends. A double batch made 20 cheese logs. We gave them all away and didn't have enough, so I had to make some gingerbread men and handmade Christmas tree ornaments for some people I missed. Actually, the gingerbread men were exclusively for me, but I decided to share a few.
Anyway, my man has been grumbling the past few days because we didn't keep any of the cheese logs for us to eat. So I caved in today and decided to make another batch for ourselves. I sent him to the grocery store with a very specific list: 1 lb. sharp shredded cheddar cheese, 1 lb. Velveeta, and 1 lb. cream cheese.
When he returned, I took the bag from him and began emptying it on the table. The first thing I see is a two-pound block of sharp cheddar cheese and immediately begin to dread shredding a pound of it by hand.
"I asked for shredded," I said.
"You did? I didn't see that." He checked the list. Yep, it says shredded.
"Well, you have to shred it," I said.
I continue emptying the bag and pull out four 8 oz. boxes of cream cheese and a two-pound box of Velveeta.
"You got two pounds of everything! I only asked for one!"
"I thought we could double it," he said.
"Double it?! Do you know how many cheese logs I can get out of a double batch? TWENTY!!!"
"Oh," he said. "Sorry."
"Honey! That's SIX POUNDS of cheese! Do you think you can eat six pounds of cheese?!!"
He just laughed. Of course he thinks he can. Ugh.
Anyway, my man has been grumbling the past few days because we didn't keep any of the cheese logs for us to eat. So I caved in today and decided to make another batch for ourselves. I sent him to the grocery store with a very specific list: 1 lb. sharp shredded cheddar cheese, 1 lb. Velveeta, and 1 lb. cream cheese.
When he returned, I took the bag from him and began emptying it on the table. The first thing I see is a two-pound block of sharp cheddar cheese and immediately begin to dread shredding a pound of it by hand.
"I asked for shredded," I said.
"You did? I didn't see that." He checked the list. Yep, it says shredded.
"Well, you have to shred it," I said.
I continue emptying the bag and pull out four 8 oz. boxes of cream cheese and a two-pound box of Velveeta.
"You got two pounds of everything! I only asked for one!"
"I thought we could double it," he said.
"Double it?! Do you know how many cheese logs I can get out of a double batch? TWENTY!!!"
"Oh," he said. "Sorry."
"Honey! That's SIX POUNDS of cheese! Do you think you can eat six pounds of cheese?!!"
He just laughed. Of course he thinks he can. Ugh.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Turning Gray on Black Friday
On the morning of Black Friday, we decided to visit Shopko to pick up a couple of items on sale. We took the entire family with us, which turned out to be a mistake. Inside the store, Max found a tyrannosaurus rex figurine that he just had to have. It was made of hard plastic, but the mouth was hinged so that it could open and close. It was $25. There was no way we were going to spend that much money on a plastic dinosaur. We told Max to put it back on the shelf.
Instead, he ran.
My man left to search for him while I took the other boys to the register to check out. I had to wait in line for quite a while as the cashier slowly scanned a pile of clothing and removed the hangars before putting them in bags for the customer in front of me. While I waited, I continually looked around, hoping to spot Max so that I could grab him. I became more and more stressed when I didn't see him. I began to wonder if someone had taken him or if he was getting into trouble without my supervision.
Finally, while the cashier was scanning my items, I saw my man leading Max by the hand towards the customer service counter. We exchanged a look.
"He stole it," my man mouthed to me. Yep, Max had run completely out of the store with the dinosaur toy.
I watched as my man made Max return the dinosaur to the customer service representative and apologize. Then he took him and the other two boys out to the car. When I caught up, Max was looking teary-eyed in his carseat.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Max," I said. "Stealing is very wrong. You are grounded for the rest of the day. That means no video games, no movies, no iPad." Max wailed appropriately.
We thought that would be the end of our Max fiascoes for the day.
Later, we took Max and JayJay to the doctor for an illness they both had that was lingering too long. After examining them both, the doctor sent us over to the hospital to have a test done on Max. I told my man to wait in the car with JayJay and Third while I accompanied Max. Bad idea. We always need both parents when it comes to supervising that crazy kid.
I walked into the hospital and sat down at the admitting counter to get Max registered. He sat with me for a time, interested by the masks that sick people have to wear. The lady helping us asked him how old he was and was surprised that he is only four. She thought he was six. Gradually, Max lost interest and began to wander away, exploring the waiting area and the long, wide corridor where admitting was located. He slowly got farther and farther away.
I kept thinking that I should get up and bring him back to me, but I figured he was fine as long as I could see him. The registration process was taking quite a while between paperwork and confirming our information. During that process, Max kept going until he eventually disappeared around a bend in the corridor.
By this time, the receptionist had left her desk to get some papers from a back office. I sat frozen, unsure what to do. If I left to get Max, what would happen if she returned to find me gone? Surely, Max wouldn't wander much farther. Ugh. I'm such a dumb parent. After being his mom for four years, I should know better.
Feeling flustered, I called my man. "Can you come in here? I'm stuck doing paperwork and Max has disappeared. I need you to get him."
My man agreed, but I still felt stressed and torn about my decision to wait at the admitting desk. Then the respiratory therapist who was to conduct the test on Max came to fetch him. Embarrassed that he wasn't with me, I explained, "He went that way. Could you go find him?"
"Sure," she said and headed in the direction I pointed.
"He's wearing a black shirt and khaki pants."
"Are you looking for that little boy?" someone asked who was approaching down the hall and had overheard our conversation.
"Yes," said the therapist.
"He's down there, all alone."
Another approaching person said, "Yes, I saw him going up the stairs."
The therapist followed their directions.
The registration process took another five minutes, during which I did not see my man or my missing son. Finally released, I jumped up and charged down the hall to look for Max. The corridor turned out to be much longer than I thought it would be. He was nowhere in sight. I hurried through an atrium with benches and statues and to the very far end where some glass doors led into the parking garage. There I finally saw my man coming in with Third and JayJay in tow. But no Max and no therapist. Surely he wouldn't have gone outside, and if he had, he should have run into my man. I turned and hurried back the way I had come, looking for Max, hoping the therapist had found him and would be waiting for me near the admitting desk. No one was there. Perhaps she had found him and taken him somewhere to do the test, assuming we knew where to go and would follow. I spun again and went to my man.
"I can't find him anywhere!" I wailed.
A nurse approached and said to my man, "Are you the guy missing a little boy?"
"Yes," said my man.
"He's wearing a black shirt?"
"Yes," he said.
"Ok," she said, but she didn't know where he was.
Then I saw a door with a sign next to it indicating it gave access to a stairway. Perhaps they were the stairs that person had seen him climbing. I charged through and ran up four flights of stairs, shouting for Max and trying every door on every level, which were all locked. Max was not in the stairwell. I ran back down the stairs and out into the corridor. My man was gone now. I headed down to search the other end of the hospital even though I had seen Max go in the opposite direction. I met my man coming back. No Max.
I was beginning to be really scared. The hospital was a huge building to search and someone could have easily taken off with him.
As we were heading back towards admitting, we finally saw the respiratory therapist approaching down the hall.
"Did you find him?" I asked, but she was alone.
However, she said, "Yes," and paused and turned slightly and then Max appeared, trailing along behind her down the hallway.
Relief flooded through me. "Where did you find him?"
"On the roof, watching the helicopter take off."
WHAT????
My baby was on the ROOF of the hospital?! How the heck did he get up there?!
"How did you know where to look?" I asked, completely flabbergasted.
"I just figured he went up the stairs," she said.
Sheesh! Was there even a wall of any sort around the edge of the hospital roof? "MAX!" I shrieked. "I'm going to beat you black and blue!!!" Then he reached me and I hugged him tightly. "You scared Mommy!"
We went and got the test done and on our way out, I asked Max to show me exactly where he had gone.
He pointed at the floor of the hospital, which was paved with shiny white tiles. However, a ribbon of dark gray tiles curved back and forth across the hall.
"I saw this trail," Max explained, "and I wanted to follow it." He began again to follow the path of dark tiles. He led us to the atrium with the benches and statues. "Then I saw these statues and I was like 'Woah!' and I tried to be a statue like them." He stiffened as if trying to become a statue again. "Then I kept going." He continued past the statues and we reached the doors where my man had come in. To the left of them was a staircase I had not noticed in my frantic search. Max continued, "Then I saw these stairs and went up them to the roof. The helicopter was taking off. It was awesome!"
So I got a few more gray hairs on Black Friday, courtesy of Max and his shenanigans. Luckily, the therapist found him when she did. Otherwise, he might have ended up on the helicopter.
Instead, he ran.
My man left to search for him while I took the other boys to the register to check out. I had to wait in line for quite a while as the cashier slowly scanned a pile of clothing and removed the hangars before putting them in bags for the customer in front of me. While I waited, I continually looked around, hoping to spot Max so that I could grab him. I became more and more stressed when I didn't see him. I began to wonder if someone had taken him or if he was getting into trouble without my supervision.
Finally, while the cashier was scanning my items, I saw my man leading Max by the hand towards the customer service counter. We exchanged a look.
"He stole it," my man mouthed to me. Yep, Max had run completely out of the store with the dinosaur toy.
I watched as my man made Max return the dinosaur to the customer service representative and apologize. Then he took him and the other two boys out to the car. When I caught up, Max was looking teary-eyed in his carseat.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Max," I said. "Stealing is very wrong. You are grounded for the rest of the day. That means no video games, no movies, no iPad." Max wailed appropriately.
We thought that would be the end of our Max fiascoes for the day.
Later, we took Max and JayJay to the doctor for an illness they both had that was lingering too long. After examining them both, the doctor sent us over to the hospital to have a test done on Max. I told my man to wait in the car with JayJay and Third while I accompanied Max. Bad idea. We always need both parents when it comes to supervising that crazy kid.
I walked into the hospital and sat down at the admitting counter to get Max registered. He sat with me for a time, interested by the masks that sick people have to wear. The lady helping us asked him how old he was and was surprised that he is only four. She thought he was six. Gradually, Max lost interest and began to wander away, exploring the waiting area and the long, wide corridor where admitting was located. He slowly got farther and farther away.
I kept thinking that I should get up and bring him back to me, but I figured he was fine as long as I could see him. The registration process was taking quite a while between paperwork and confirming our information. During that process, Max kept going until he eventually disappeared around a bend in the corridor.
By this time, the receptionist had left her desk to get some papers from a back office. I sat frozen, unsure what to do. If I left to get Max, what would happen if she returned to find me gone? Surely, Max wouldn't wander much farther. Ugh. I'm such a dumb parent. After being his mom for four years, I should know better.
Feeling flustered, I called my man. "Can you come in here? I'm stuck doing paperwork and Max has disappeared. I need you to get him."
My man agreed, but I still felt stressed and torn about my decision to wait at the admitting desk. Then the respiratory therapist who was to conduct the test on Max came to fetch him. Embarrassed that he wasn't with me, I explained, "He went that way. Could you go find him?"
"Sure," she said and headed in the direction I pointed.
"He's wearing a black shirt and khaki pants."
"Are you looking for that little boy?" someone asked who was approaching down the hall and had overheard our conversation.
"Yes," said the therapist.
"He's down there, all alone."
Another approaching person said, "Yes, I saw him going up the stairs."
The therapist followed their directions.
The registration process took another five minutes, during which I did not see my man or my missing son. Finally released, I jumped up and charged down the hall to look for Max. The corridor turned out to be much longer than I thought it would be. He was nowhere in sight. I hurried through an atrium with benches and statues and to the very far end where some glass doors led into the parking garage. There I finally saw my man coming in with Third and JayJay in tow. But no Max and no therapist. Surely he wouldn't have gone outside, and if he had, he should have run into my man. I turned and hurried back the way I had come, looking for Max, hoping the therapist had found him and would be waiting for me near the admitting desk. No one was there. Perhaps she had found him and taken him somewhere to do the test, assuming we knew where to go and would follow. I spun again and went to my man.
"I can't find him anywhere!" I wailed.
A nurse approached and said to my man, "Are you the guy missing a little boy?"
"Yes," said my man.
"He's wearing a black shirt?"
"Yes," he said.
"Ok," she said, but she didn't know where he was.
Then I saw a door with a sign next to it indicating it gave access to a stairway. Perhaps they were the stairs that person had seen him climbing. I charged through and ran up four flights of stairs, shouting for Max and trying every door on every level, which were all locked. Max was not in the stairwell. I ran back down the stairs and out into the corridor. My man was gone now. I headed down to search the other end of the hospital even though I had seen Max go in the opposite direction. I met my man coming back. No Max.
I was beginning to be really scared. The hospital was a huge building to search and someone could have easily taken off with him.
As we were heading back towards admitting, we finally saw the respiratory therapist approaching down the hall.
"Did you find him?" I asked, but she was alone.
However, she said, "Yes," and paused and turned slightly and then Max appeared, trailing along behind her down the hallway.
Relief flooded through me. "Where did you find him?"
"On the roof, watching the helicopter take off."
WHAT????
My baby was on the ROOF of the hospital?! How the heck did he get up there?!
"How did you know where to look?" I asked, completely flabbergasted.
"I just figured he went up the stairs," she said.
Sheesh! Was there even a wall of any sort around the edge of the hospital roof? "MAX!" I shrieked. "I'm going to beat you black and blue!!!" Then he reached me and I hugged him tightly. "You scared Mommy!"
We went and got the test done and on our way out, I asked Max to show me exactly where he had gone.
He pointed at the floor of the hospital, which was paved with shiny white tiles. However, a ribbon of dark gray tiles curved back and forth across the hall.
"I saw this trail," Max explained, "and I wanted to follow it." He began again to follow the path of dark tiles. He led us to the atrium with the benches and statues. "Then I saw these statues and I was like 'Woah!' and I tried to be a statue like them." He stiffened as if trying to become a statue again. "Then I kept going." He continued past the statues and we reached the doors where my man had come in. To the left of them was a staircase I had not noticed in my frantic search. Max continued, "Then I saw these stairs and went up them to the roof. The helicopter was taking off. It was awesome!"
So I got a few more gray hairs on Black Friday, courtesy of Max and his shenanigans. Luckily, the therapist found him when she did. Otherwise, he might have ended up on the helicopter.
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Max and Third Are Heavy!
This post will have a slightly different tone than the rest of my posts on this blog. However, the incident I'm telling you about definitely contributed a grin to the awesomeness of my life. So I'm going to include it.
This summer my family did a lot of hiking. We love escaping the city and getting out into nature and we tried to do at least one hike per week. One of the hikes we did was a trail that followed a creek up to some hot springs. It was 2.5 miles in and we started a bit late so that we ended up hiking during our boys' nap time. JayJay is six and can handle missing a nap. Max is four and he thinks he can handle missing a nap, but when he does, the world better watch out.
My sister #4 and her boyfriend came with us. The hike in was very enjoyable. The terrain was mostly level and the scenery absolutely stunning. Parts of the trail were a bit nerve-racking because of sharp drop-offs where the creek was eroding bits of the trail away. I had to steer my Max around those bits when he was inclined to climb the piddly fences separating hikers from a fall or throw rocks off the edges. By the last quarter of the hike in, Max needed a lot of coaxing and some carrying to make it all the way to the hot springs.
When we arrived, we ate a picnic lunch, waded in the pools, and explored the trails and waterfalls surrounding the main spring. Remarkably, the algae that grew on the rocks in the water was naturally color-coded depending on the temperature of the water: gray for warm, black for hot, and red for scalding. Nature is so cool! And again, the area was gorgeous!
After exploring and wading for several hours, we decided we better head back down the trail so that we could get home and eat dinner at a decent hour. We persuaded the boys to put shoes and socks back on and start the hike. My man started off with JayJay and Max while I waited for Sis4 and her boyfriend who were delayed with getting their shoes and socks on and gathering their belongings.
Before they finished getting their things together, Max returned alone. Something had upset him and he didn't want to hike with daddy and JayJay. I knew we had a problem. He sat in the middle of the trail with his arms folded in a huff and a scowl on his face. When Sis4 and her boyfriend were ready to go, we had a difficult time convincing Max to come with us. We finally managed to get him on his feet and began to walk at a snail's pace. After going a few yards, Max would sit down and refuse to budge. Sometimes we could lure him to walk again. Sometimes I would carry him for a short distance, but it was difficult and exhausting because I already had Third on my back. He wanted me to carry him constantly, but I had to refuse. Sis4 and her boyfriend both offered to carry Max instead, but he spurned their help. Sometimes when he sat down in the middle of the trail, we just had to keep going until we rounded a bend and he couldn't see us anymore. Then, after a few minutes, he would decide that he didn't want to be alone and would follow along. Slowly. This went on until we just couldn't get him to move anymore. We hadn't made it very far on the trail. At all.
I decided that the best solution would be to take Third out of the backpack and have Sis4 carry him. Then I would put Max in the backpack and we would be able to hike at a decent pace. So we proceeded with this plan.
Unfortunately, neither boy agreed that this was the best idea. Max was adamant that he did not want to be carried in the backpack like a baby. Third was adamant that he did not want Sis4 to carry him. And they both objected loudly, bawling at the top of their lungs as if we were torturing them by cutting their sandwiches in the wrong shapes. But I didn't have any other way so I ignored their protests.
They bawled FOREVER! And the trail suddenly wasn't only 2.5 miles. It was 30 miles and we would never reach the end. We trudged along with two boys bawling and bawling and bawling. Every person that we passed looked at us sideways, trying to figure out what such horrible people had done to those poor, dear, sweet little children to make them so upset. We tried to distract them by pointing out flowers and plants and insects. We offered them sticks and rocks to carry or throw. Nothing worked. They cried and cried, not even the whimpering, quiet crying. They roared. FOREVER!!!
And Max was so heavy!
Eventually, Max cried himself to sleep, draped over my shoulder in a position that made me have to tilt my head at an awkward angle. Third, on the other hand, was determined to keep going. He wouldn't let Sis4 cradle him or lay him on her shoulder. He was stiff as a board and sobbing. Finally, I couldn't stand to have to the poor kid cry another minute, so I took him from Sis4 and carried him myself. But since Max was sleeping, we couldn't transfer him to someone else's back. I had to carry both kids. Third promptly fell asleep in my arms. (We discovered later that Third had a poopy diaper and bad diaper rash, but we couldn't smell it because of the sulfur smell from the hot springs, so I didn't know he needed changed.) So there I was, carrying two sleeping, heavy kids (an additional 65 pounds!), hiking a 2.5 mile trail. For a hardcore outdoor enthusiast, this would be no problem. But while I am fit, I am definitely not used to carrying that much weight. My man was far ahead with JayJay, unaware that I needed help, and I was scared to transfer Third back to Sis4 because I didn't want to wake him up and traumatize him even more.
I tried to endure. I don't know how far I walked that way. It felt like 30 miles. They were so heavy! I had no idea how much farther we had to go. My legs and arms burned. My shoulders and neck ached and I couldn't adjust the straps of the backpack to relieve the pressure. My once wonderful afternoon hike had become quite miserable.
Finally, I didn't feel like I could endure another minute. So I prayed.
"Heavenly Father, please bless me with the strength to bear this burden. Help me endure to the end...."
I didn't even get to finish my prayer.
Sis4 turned around and said, "Do you want me to take Third now?"
For a nanosecond, my pride demanded that I refuse. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to prove my awesomeness by carrying both kids the rest of the way. I wanted to be blessed with the strength to continue.
But then I realized that her offer to take Third was the answer to my prayer. I had asked for help and Heavenly Father immediately provided it! I could not refuse such an obvious blessing.
So I said, "Yes."
She came and we carefully transferred Third. Miraculously, he stayed asleep. But the answer to my prayer continued. Without even communicating with either of us, Sis4's boyfriend came and walked beside me so that he could hold onto the backpack and lift some of Max's weight off my shoulders.
I marveled at how cool Heavenly Father is and how cool it was that both Sis4 and her boyfriend were able to feel the promptings of the Spirit to help me when I desperately needed help, even though they didn't realize they were receiving promptings.
We finished the rest of the hike that way. It wasn't very much farther. I probably could have made it without help, miserably. But Heavenly Father didn't want me to be miserable. He wanted me to be happy, so he provided the help I needed immediately when I asked for it. When we saw the end, I took Third from Sis4 so that my man would think I carried both kids the whole way and be impressed with my superpowers (That didn't work. "So? I do that all the time.").
Answers to prayers are so amazing and special. Sometimes, Heavenly Father will give us the strength to endure our trials to the end. Sometimes, he will remove the burden entirely. Sometimes, he will send people to help us bear the burden. No matter how the answer comes, Heavenly Father will always give us help when we ask for it!
This summer my family did a lot of hiking. We love escaping the city and getting out into nature and we tried to do at least one hike per week. One of the hikes we did was a trail that followed a creek up to some hot springs. It was 2.5 miles in and we started a bit late so that we ended up hiking during our boys' nap time. JayJay is six and can handle missing a nap. Max is four and he thinks he can handle missing a nap, but when he does, the world better watch out.
My sister #4 and her boyfriend came with us. The hike in was very enjoyable. The terrain was mostly level and the scenery absolutely stunning. Parts of the trail were a bit nerve-racking because of sharp drop-offs where the creek was eroding bits of the trail away. I had to steer my Max around those bits when he was inclined to climb the piddly fences separating hikers from a fall or throw rocks off the edges. By the last quarter of the hike in, Max needed a lot of coaxing and some carrying to make it all the way to the hot springs.
When we arrived, we ate a picnic lunch, waded in the pools, and explored the trails and waterfalls surrounding the main spring. Remarkably, the algae that grew on the rocks in the water was naturally color-coded depending on the temperature of the water: gray for warm, black for hot, and red for scalding. Nature is so cool! And again, the area was gorgeous!
After exploring and wading for several hours, we decided we better head back down the trail so that we could get home and eat dinner at a decent hour. We persuaded the boys to put shoes and socks back on and start the hike. My man started off with JayJay and Max while I waited for Sis4 and her boyfriend who were delayed with getting their shoes and socks on and gathering their belongings.
Before they finished getting their things together, Max returned alone. Something had upset him and he didn't want to hike with daddy and JayJay. I knew we had a problem. He sat in the middle of the trail with his arms folded in a huff and a scowl on his face. When Sis4 and her boyfriend were ready to go, we had a difficult time convincing Max to come with us. We finally managed to get him on his feet and began to walk at a snail's pace. After going a few yards, Max would sit down and refuse to budge. Sometimes we could lure him to walk again. Sometimes I would carry him for a short distance, but it was difficult and exhausting because I already had Third on my back. He wanted me to carry him constantly, but I had to refuse. Sis4 and her boyfriend both offered to carry Max instead, but he spurned their help. Sometimes when he sat down in the middle of the trail, we just had to keep going until we rounded a bend and he couldn't see us anymore. Then, after a few minutes, he would decide that he didn't want to be alone and would follow along. Slowly. This went on until we just couldn't get him to move anymore. We hadn't made it very far on the trail. At all.
I decided that the best solution would be to take Third out of the backpack and have Sis4 carry him. Then I would put Max in the backpack and we would be able to hike at a decent pace. So we proceeded with this plan.
Unfortunately, neither boy agreed that this was the best idea. Max was adamant that he did not want to be carried in the backpack like a baby. Third was adamant that he did not want Sis4 to carry him. And they both objected loudly, bawling at the top of their lungs as if we were torturing them by cutting their sandwiches in the wrong shapes. But I didn't have any other way so I ignored their protests.
They bawled FOREVER! And the trail suddenly wasn't only 2.5 miles. It was 30 miles and we would never reach the end. We trudged along with two boys bawling and bawling and bawling. Every person that we passed looked at us sideways, trying to figure out what such horrible people had done to those poor, dear, sweet little children to make them so upset. We tried to distract them by pointing out flowers and plants and insects. We offered them sticks and rocks to carry or throw. Nothing worked. They cried and cried, not even the whimpering, quiet crying. They roared. FOREVER!!!
And Max was so heavy!
Eventually, Max cried himself to sleep, draped over my shoulder in a position that made me have to tilt my head at an awkward angle. Third, on the other hand, was determined to keep going. He wouldn't let Sis4 cradle him or lay him on her shoulder. He was stiff as a board and sobbing. Finally, I couldn't stand to have to the poor kid cry another minute, so I took him from Sis4 and carried him myself. But since Max was sleeping, we couldn't transfer him to someone else's back. I had to carry both kids. Third promptly fell asleep in my arms. (We discovered later that Third had a poopy diaper and bad diaper rash, but we couldn't smell it because of the sulfur smell from the hot springs, so I didn't know he needed changed.) So there I was, carrying two sleeping, heavy kids (an additional 65 pounds!), hiking a 2.5 mile trail. For a hardcore outdoor enthusiast, this would be no problem. But while I am fit, I am definitely not used to carrying that much weight. My man was far ahead with JayJay, unaware that I needed help, and I was scared to transfer Third back to Sis4 because I didn't want to wake him up and traumatize him even more.
Finally, I didn't feel like I could endure another minute. So I prayed.
"Heavenly Father, please bless me with the strength to bear this burden. Help me endure to the end...."
I didn't even get to finish my prayer.
Sis4 turned around and said, "Do you want me to take Third now?"
For a nanosecond, my pride demanded that I refuse. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to prove my awesomeness by carrying both kids the rest of the way. I wanted to be blessed with the strength to continue.
But then I realized that her offer to take Third was the answer to my prayer. I had asked for help and Heavenly Father immediately provided it! I could not refuse such an obvious blessing.
So I said, "Yes."
She came and we carefully transferred Third. Miraculously, he stayed asleep. But the answer to my prayer continued. Without even communicating with either of us, Sis4's boyfriend came and walked beside me so that he could hold onto the backpack and lift some of Max's weight off my shoulders.
I marveled at how cool Heavenly Father is and how cool it was that both Sis4 and her boyfriend were able to feel the promptings of the Spirit to help me when I desperately needed help, even though they didn't realize they were receiving promptings.
We finished the rest of the hike that way. It wasn't very much farther. I probably could have made it without help, miserably. But Heavenly Father didn't want me to be miserable. He wanted me to be happy, so he provided the help I needed immediately when I asked for it. When we saw the end, I took Third from Sis4 so that my man would think I carried both kids the whole way and be impressed with my superpowers (That didn't work. "So? I do that all the time.").
Answers to prayers are so amazing and special. Sometimes, Heavenly Father will give us the strength to endure our trials to the end. Sometimes, he will remove the burden entirely. Sometimes, he will send people to help us bear the burden. No matter how the answer comes, Heavenly Father will always give us help when we ask for it!
Dream
I think raising three rambunctious boys is beginning to stress me out. Last night I dreamed that they got out of control and launched a rocket that hit the sun and changed the color of sunlight to a salmon pink. So I yelled at them, "You didn't just mess up a room! You ruined our ecosystem! You destroyed our whole freaking planet!!!"
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Veterans Day and the Play-Doh Wars
JayJay came home on Veterans Day and announced that he had learned about the Play-Doh Wars in school.
Huh?
I attended first grade and I had no memory of learning about the Play-Doh Wars. So it must be a more contemporary war that had occurred after my first grade year so long ago. But I keep up on current events and still the name didn't ring a bell.
So I speculated on what he could possibly be talking about. Perhaps they had modeled historic battles with Play-Doh. Perhaps they had actually had a Play-Doh war at school that day, lobbing gobs of brightly colored clay at each other across protective desk barriers.
In the words of C. S. Lewis, "Bless me, what do they teach them at these schools?"
I gave up trying to figure it out. "What are the Play-Doh Wars?" I asked.
"They are in China," he said. "My teacher showed us pictures of them."
Oooohhhh. It clicked. He was trying to say clay warriors. He had learned about the Terracotta Army of the Chinese emperor Qin Shi Huang.
Huh?
I attended first grade and I had no memory of learning about the Play-Doh Wars. So it must be a more contemporary war that had occurred after my first grade year so long ago. But I keep up on current events and still the name didn't ring a bell.
So I speculated on what he could possibly be talking about. Perhaps they had modeled historic battles with Play-Doh. Perhaps they had actually had a Play-Doh war at school that day, lobbing gobs of brightly colored clay at each other across protective desk barriers.
In the words of C. S. Lewis, "Bless me, what do they teach them at these schools?"
I gave up trying to figure it out. "What are the Play-Doh Wars?" I asked.
"They are in China," he said. "My teacher showed us pictures of them."
Oooohhhh. It clicked. He was trying to say clay warriors. He had learned about the Terracotta Army of the Chinese emperor Qin Shi Huang.
Friday, August 22, 2014
The Case of the Disappearing Band-Aids
This spring, JayJay learned how to boost himself into the large pine tree in our yard. His favorite thing now is to climb the tree. If I can't see him playing on the grass, I just have to look up to find him.
Of course, Max wanted to climb the tree too. But he couldn't get into the tree on his own. He pestered me for help, which I refused to give him in an effort to postpone his tree climbing until he obtained what I felt would be a more physically capable age. I explained that if he wanted to climb the tree, he had to be able to get in and out of it himself. He's only four and I hoped that he wouldn't figure it out until next summer. My hopes were dashed when he figured out how to get in and out of the tree on his own, only a few weeks later than JayJay. He grabs the lowest branch, which is over his head, and walks up the trunk until he can wrap his legs around the branch too, then wriggles until he is sitting upright. He is now in the tree just as much as JayJay. Sometimes he climbs so high he scares himself (and me), but that doesn't stop him from climbing so high. Max's physical abilities continue to amaze me. He runs faster and has more stamina than his six-year-old brother.
After one of Max's morning tree climbing episodes, he came into the house with a long, bleeding scratch across the palm of his hand. Since it was too long for a single band-aid, my man bandaged it with two, their edges overlapping slightly so they stuck together in one rectangle.
Later that afternoon, we took the family to play at a local park. JayJay, Max, and Third ran around on the playground equipment while I took the dog into the field so she could play too. My man supervised the boys. He has now named the playground "The Apparatus of Death" because of Third's tendency to repeatedly walk off the top platform, whether someone is there to catch him or not.
Pretty soon they needed a bathroom break. When Max came out of the bathroom, the two band-aids on his hand were gone. My man looked all over for those band-aids, not to put them back on, but because nothing is grosser than finding someone's dirty old band-aid where you are playing, or even worse, stuck to your shoe or something. No matter how hard he looked, my man could not find those band-aids anywhere. He gave up and we went about our day.
Hours later, we were getting our boys ready for bed. My man lifted up Third's shirt to undress him and put his pajamas on and made a startling discovery. There were the band-aids, perfectly taped to Third's tummy, as if purposefully placed there. We asked Max how they had gotten there. Here is his version of the story:
"Well, I needed to go to the baffroom. Water was going down in the toilet that was right there without a door and it would come back up and it would go in a flood. Ender went in it and I took him out of the baffroom and the band-aid fell off me and I thought they landed in the grass but they disappeared on Third's stomach."
So apparently, there was some sort of trouble with the urinal that made Max believe it was going to overflow so he grabbed Third and carried him out. When he carries Third, he has to wrap both arms around his waist and heave. So somehow the band-aids must have transferred to Third's tummy while Max was carrying him. When searching for the lost band-aids, my man never considered looking on the other children for them.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Married Life: Sharing Toothbrushes
While I was in the shower washing my hair, my man was brushing his teeth at the bathroom sink. He said, "Honey, if I accidentally used your toothbrush to brush my teeth, would you want me to tell you?"
Unable to see him and thinking that he must currently be using my toothbrush, I said, "Yes. Did you?" I figured I would just get a new toothbrush when I got out of the shower.
He sounded slightly sheepish when he answered. "Yes. Like a week and a half ago."
"WHAT? Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I was never, ever going to tell you," he confessed. "I didn't realize until I had finished. I rinsed it really, really good. REALLY good! I think it was dark."
Meanwhile, I am laughing and gagging in the shower. "Gross!"
After I got out of the shower, I stood at the sink, staring at my fouled toothbrush. A moment of hesitation later, I grabbed it and began brushing. What the heck? There was no point in getting a new toothbrush after a week and a half.
Unable to see him and thinking that he must currently be using my toothbrush, I said, "Yes. Did you?" I figured I would just get a new toothbrush when I got out of the shower.
He sounded slightly sheepish when he answered. "Yes. Like a week and a half ago."
"WHAT? Why didn't you tell me?!"
"I was never, ever going to tell you," he confessed. "I didn't realize until I had finished. I rinsed it really, really good. REALLY good! I think it was dark."
Meanwhile, I am laughing and gagging in the shower. "Gross!"
After I got out of the shower, I stood at the sink, staring at my fouled toothbrush. A moment of hesitation later, I grabbed it and began brushing. What the heck? There was no point in getting a new toothbrush after a week and a half.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Condom Curiosity
My man was in the shower and I was lingering in bed, unwilling to admit that it was time to wake up and face the day. Max came into my room and climbed into bed with me. He snuggled for a very brief time and then sat up and started bouncing around. In the process of being a hooligan, he knocked my man's pillows onto the floor and discovered a surprise hidden underneath them, a condom in a shiny gold wrapper where I had stashed it for later use.
Max picked it up. "What's this, Mommy?"
"Oh, it's something of Daddy's," I answered.
"But what is it?" he insisted.
With an internal snicker, I said, "You can go ask him if you want." I was very interested to see how my man would explain a condom to our four-year-old.
I listened intently as Max entered the bathroom and asked, "What's this, Daddy?" as he held up the condom in its golden wrapper.
My man's answer was as vague as mine and disappointed my desire for entertainment. "That's Mommy's and Daddy's. Give it to me."
"Ok," said Max.
He handed the condom to his dad and went about his business. I assumed that was the end of the potentially awkward issue.
Many hours later, we had put the boys to bed for the night. I was downstairs working on a query letter and synopsis for my novel. Max came downstairs and moseyed about.
"What are you doing out of bed, Max?" I asked.
"Nuffing," he answered. He sauntered over to the kitchen counter.
"Do I need to spank your bottom?"
"No." He reached up and pulled a pair of scissors out of the pencil holder on the counter top.
"Get back to bed."
"Ok," he started sidling toward the stairs with the scissors hidden behind his back.
Because I wasn't really paying attention as I worked, I suddenly realized he was trying to sneak scissors up the stairs. Visions of crooked haircuts, shredded blankets, and stabbed brothers immediately accosted me. "Wait a second! Put those back!"
"Fine," he sighed and put the scissors back in their container.
"Get to bed!"
He went. I continued working. Later, my man joined me to watch a show on my computer. We were sitting together on the couch when we heard evidence of a little boy out of bed again.
"It's your turn," I said as I paused the show. We take turns investigating the after-bedtime shenanigans of our hoodlums.
My man went upstairs. He was gone for some time. When he returned he had a handful of condoms and he said, "Max emptied the entire box of condoms. One of them was opened. There are pieces of wrapper all over their bedroom. I couldn't find them all."
Max had somehow managed to rip one of the condom wrappers open and thoroughly explored the contents before my man caught him and confiscated it. Max was quite disappointed.
We told the story to my family the next day and my younger brother clarified for us why Max wanted the scissors for the condom. "He was trying to poke a hole in it. He wants a little brother!"
Max picked it up. "What's this, Mommy?"
"Oh, it's something of Daddy's," I answered.
"But what is it?" he insisted.
With an internal snicker, I said, "You can go ask him if you want." I was very interested to see how my man would explain a condom to our four-year-old.
I listened intently as Max entered the bathroom and asked, "What's this, Daddy?" as he held up the condom in its golden wrapper.
My man's answer was as vague as mine and disappointed my desire for entertainment. "That's Mommy's and Daddy's. Give it to me."
"Ok," said Max.
He handed the condom to his dad and went about his business. I assumed that was the end of the potentially awkward issue.
Many hours later, we had put the boys to bed for the night. I was downstairs working on a query letter and synopsis for my novel. Max came downstairs and moseyed about.
"What are you doing out of bed, Max?" I asked.
"Nuffing," he answered. He sauntered over to the kitchen counter.
"Do I need to spank your bottom?"
"No." He reached up and pulled a pair of scissors out of the pencil holder on the counter top.
"Get back to bed."
"Ok," he started sidling toward the stairs with the scissors hidden behind his back.
Because I wasn't really paying attention as I worked, I suddenly realized he was trying to sneak scissors up the stairs. Visions of crooked haircuts, shredded blankets, and stabbed brothers immediately accosted me. "Wait a second! Put those back!"
"Fine," he sighed and put the scissors back in their container.
"Get to bed!"
He went. I continued working. Later, my man joined me to watch a show on my computer. We were sitting together on the couch when we heard evidence of a little boy out of bed again.
"It's your turn," I said as I paused the show. We take turns investigating the after-bedtime shenanigans of our hoodlums.
My man went upstairs. He was gone for some time. When he returned he had a handful of condoms and he said, "Max emptied the entire box of condoms. One of them was opened. There are pieces of wrapper all over their bedroom. I couldn't find them all."
Max had somehow managed to rip one of the condom wrappers open and thoroughly explored the contents before my man caught him and confiscated it. Max was quite disappointed.
We told the story to my family the next day and my younger brother clarified for us why Max wanted the scissors for the condom. "He was trying to poke a hole in it. He wants a little brother!"
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Who Is Mommy's Boyfriend?
My man was away from home until late last night. He was chaperoning the Morp dance (a backwards prom where girls ask the boys out) at the high school. He woke up this morning with a headache.
"Were you drinking last night?" I teased.
"No!" he said.
"Well, what were you doing that made you hungover this morning?"
"I'm not hungover," he protested. "It's just a headache."
Later, while we were eating lunch with the kids, he reciprocated. "And what were you doing last night?" he asked in a tone that suggested I was being naughty while he was away.
"My boyfriend came over," I said archly.
"Your boyfriend?" said my man.
"Yeah," I said. "He got here about 11:15 and he stayed all night." That's about the time my man got home after the dance.
"He did?" JayJay asked, joining the conversation. "Where did he sleep?"
"In my bed," I answered.
"Then where did Daddy sleep?" JayJay asked.
I laughed. "JayJay, who is Mommy's boyfriend?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
I gestured at my man with the fork in my hand.
"Daddy?" JayJay guessed.
I nodded. "Yep."
"Daddy is your boyfriend?" exclaimed Max with shock and excitement. "I didn't know that!"
"Were you drinking last night?" I teased.
"No!" he said.
"Well, what were you doing that made you hungover this morning?"
"I'm not hungover," he protested. "It's just a headache."
Later, while we were eating lunch with the kids, he reciprocated. "And what were you doing last night?" he asked in a tone that suggested I was being naughty while he was away.
"My boyfriend came over," I said archly.
"Your boyfriend?" said my man.
"Yeah," I said. "He got here about 11:15 and he stayed all night." That's about the time my man got home after the dance.
"He did?" JayJay asked, joining the conversation. "Where did he sleep?"
"In my bed," I answered.
"Then where did Daddy sleep?" JayJay asked.
I laughed. "JayJay, who is Mommy's boyfriend?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
I gestured at my man with the fork in my hand.
"Daddy?" JayJay guessed.
I nodded. "Yep."
"Daddy is your boyfriend?" exclaimed Max with shock and excitement. "I didn't know that!"
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Registration Ruination
One of our vehicles is a 21-year-old Ford Tempo. I've had this vehicle since 1998. It's a beater, but it still works great. My man uses it to get back and forth to work everyday. We keep it registered in Alaska. Recently, the registration came due. I got online and renewed the registration. Yesterday, I received the new registration in the mail. I opened the envelope and showed my man the new certificate and sticker.
"Honey, here is the new registration for your car."
"Ok," he said.
Then I set it on the counter so he could put it in the car when he left for work in the morning.
This morning I noticed Max cutting up a piece of paper. I didn't stop him. It was a harmless activity and kept him occupied while I did the dishes. I should have paid closer attention.
"Honey, here is the new registration for your car."
"Ok," he said.
Then I set it on the counter so he could put it in the car when he left for work in the morning.
This morning I noticed Max cutting up a piece of paper. I didn't stop him. It was a harmless activity and kept him occupied while I did the dishes. I should have paid closer attention.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Experimenting with Fake Crying
Max bent over without paying attention and smacked his head on the corner of the TV stand. The sharp point left a goose egg on his forehead. He straightened, grabbed his head, and started to cry. In tears, he turned to me for comfort, reaching up so that I would pick him up.
"Oh!" I said. "Poor boy!" I picked him up and kissed his owie and then held him close while he cried.
One-year-old Third observed all of this. He had been standing right next to Max when the accident happened. Turning to face the TV, Third bent forward and deliberately hit his head on the screen. He looked back at me and gave an experimental "Waaah."
When that elicited no response from me, he turned back to the TV and hit his head against it again, a solid thunk on the glass. Then he looked to see if I had noticed and voiced a fake cry once more.
He was so cute that I just laughed at him. Funny baby!
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Max's Horrible, Comical Impulses
We are on day three of Spring Break and I have had enough fun. I just want to stay home.
I can't remember if I have explained this before on my blog. Max is impulsive. We have talked and talked his ears off about choices and how he needs to think about the consequences of his actions before he does something. He's only four so I don't know how much of that is sinking in. So far none of it from what I can tell. At the water park, he jumped into the lazy river which was over his head, even though he couldn't swim. When he waded into the wave pool, he didn't stop trying to go deeper, even when the water was covering his mouth and nose. He is now in swimming lessons. Every time I take him to a public place, I lose him because he runs away. When hiking, he has literally walked right off of a log bridge over a rocky creek because he was looking at the sky instead of where he was going. Luckily, he was just bruised and not seriously hurt. I have no idea what goes on in his brain. Our pediatrician has suggested the possibility of ADHD, although we won't get a diagnosis until we can see if his behavior interferes with his ability to sit in school, learn, and do homework. He may just grow out of it. A lot of four-year-olds are wild. I repeatedly ask his preschool teacher how he behaves and I am told he is very good in school. He can also focus quite well on books, so I doubt ADHD is the problem if there is one. I have also noticed that he behaves better when I make sure he gets a nap. However, I am honestly afraid that I will not be able to make sure he makes it to adulthood. Sometimes his impulses are just mind boggling. Sometimes they are so preposterously bad that I have to laugh or I will tear out my own hair.
We didn't have any specific plans for the break. We've just been doing things as we go along. Monday was a nice, sunny day with a cool breeze. My man has been wanting to walk to the new 7-Eleven down the road to get a Slurpee. So we decided we would go as a family.
We reached the gas station and walked around the parking lot to the side of the building where we hovered for a moment while we decided what to do with the bikes and the dog. Max and JayJay got off their bikes and my man and I talked. We decided that he would take the older boys in with him while I stayed with Third and the dog outside. That small delay caused a tremendous amount of trouble.
When my man rounded the corner, he discovered Max standing very close to a large, red button fixed to the front outside wall of the gas station. It was the emergency shut-off button for the gas pumps. He was just dropping the flip-cover over the button. My man grabbed Max.
"Don't touch that!" he said. "Did you push that button?"
"Yep, I already did," Max announced.
My man looked at the button, but it didn't look compressed so he took Max and JayJay into the gas station store, not really thinking much about it.
Deciding that I didn't want to wait outside, I took the bikes, the dog, and the stroller to the rear of the building. I tied the leash to the stroller and bikes, told the dog to stay, picked up the baby, and went into the gas station. We shopped around for a few minutes. I selected a push pop for Third and hot chocolate for me. My man, JayJay, and Max picked Slurpees. Then we got into the line to pay.
As we waited, a customer came in from outside. "Hey, do you realize that no one can get gas out there?"
I'm pretty embarrassed about Max's behavior, but really my man and I win the trophy. We didn't say anything. We glanced at each other. We listened while multiple customers requested gas and were turned away.
"I don't know what's wrong," said the cashier. "Everything is shut down! You'll have to go the the Sinclair down the road."
My man and I glanced at each other again and didn't say anything.
Silently, we paid for our drinks and then we left the gas station to its chaos. I assumed they would figure it out pretty fast that someone had pushed the emergency shut-off button. Max can't have been the first kid to do it, although that gas station is only a few months old so maybe he was at that particular one.
I don't know why I couldn't just open my mouth and say, "Oh, I'm sorry. I think my kid pushed the emergency shut-off switch." It seems pretty simple. But my lips were sealed. I was too scared.
So we high-tailed it out of there and walked to the park with our drinks and let the kids play. While we were sitting there, a police car drove through the parking lot. I was actually afraid that the cop inside was looking for us. Luckily, we were behind a large pine tree. Would there be a fine for the station's lost business?They probably have the entire thing on security camera footage. Too bad we used my man's debit card. I think we'll avoid going there for a while.
I can understand Max's impulse to push that button. It was big and red and he's four. Kids like buttons. Heck, even I like buttons. So I get it.
But he shut down an entire gas station!
As bad as that was, I do not even comprehend his impulsive behavior yesterday.
We decided to take the frontrunner train to the Aerospace Museum. We took my parents and their kids with us. We rode the train and then took a city bus to the closest stop. From the bus stop we walked to the museum and spent a few hours looking at the planes. It was really cool! I got to see an SR-71, an F-16, and an F-15. In high school I wanted to be a fighter pilot and those are my three favorite planes.
We then took the bus back to the train station. We walked onto the platform to wait for the train. Max ran ahead and I watched as he stopped before an elderly blind man who was waiting on the platform. He looked up at the man for a long moment. I had time to contemplate what a beautiful scene it made: the blind man's head slightly bowed with his eyes covered by dark sunglasses and Max before him looking up. I even wished I had a camera so I could capture the image. The juxtaposition of youth and age, sight and darkness really touched me. It was a serene moment.
Then Max hit the blind man. His strike connected with the blind man's cane and knocked it against the old man who startled and clutched at the cane. Max walked calmly around the corner.
"Max!" I gasped. I hurried to the blind man. "I'm so sorry!"
"That's ok," he said.
I walked around the corner and found Max and dragged him by the hand back to the blind man. "Tell him you're sorry," I commanded.
Max whimpered and reached for me. I picked him up.
"It's ok," said the blind man again.
But it wasn't ok. I had to teach my son that he couldn't treat people that way. "Tell him you're sorry," I said again.
"I'm scared," whimpered Max.
"YOU WEREN'T TOO SCARED TO HIT HIM!!! TELL HIM YOU'RE SORRY!!!"
"Sorry," Max said finally.
"That's ok," said the blind man. "You're a good boy." He really was a saint and a gentleman.
"This one is my handful," I explained, desperately trying to make things better. "He four and..." I struggled to find a valid excuse for his behavior. I couldn't. "He's crazy."
"My own grandson will probably be like that soon. He's one and a half."
"I'm so sorry," I said again. I walked away, mortified, still holding Max, in shock. Only much later could I appreciate the humor in the situation. His act was so preposterously bad that I have to laugh in disbelief.
After he shut down an entire gas station and slugged an elderly blind man, I just don't know if I can handle anymore of this Spring Break. Today we are definitely staying home.
I really hope someone else can find these situations funny. Otherwise, I just feel deeply embarrassed and guilty for laughing about them later.
I can't remember if I have explained this before on my blog. Max is impulsive. We have talked and talked his ears off about choices and how he needs to think about the consequences of his actions before he does something. He's only four so I don't know how much of that is sinking in. So far none of it from what I can tell. At the water park, he jumped into the lazy river which was over his head, even though he couldn't swim. When he waded into the wave pool, he didn't stop trying to go deeper, even when the water was covering his mouth and nose. He is now in swimming lessons. Every time I take him to a public place, I lose him because he runs away. When hiking, he has literally walked right off of a log bridge over a rocky creek because he was looking at the sky instead of where he was going. Luckily, he was just bruised and not seriously hurt. I have no idea what goes on in his brain. Our pediatrician has suggested the possibility of ADHD, although we won't get a diagnosis until we can see if his behavior interferes with his ability to sit in school, learn, and do homework. He may just grow out of it. A lot of four-year-olds are wild. I repeatedly ask his preschool teacher how he behaves and I am told he is very good in school. He can also focus quite well on books, so I doubt ADHD is the problem if there is one. I have also noticed that he behaves better when I make sure he gets a nap. However, I am honestly afraid that I will not be able to make sure he makes it to adulthood. Sometimes his impulses are just mind boggling. Sometimes they are so preposterously bad that I have to laugh or I will tear out my own hair.
We didn't have any specific plans for the break. We've just been doing things as we go along. Monday was a nice, sunny day with a cool breeze. My man has been wanting to walk to the new 7-Eleven down the road to get a Slurpee. So we decided we would go as a family.
We reached the gas station and walked around the parking lot to the side of the building where we hovered for a moment while we decided what to do with the bikes and the dog. Max and JayJay got off their bikes and my man and I talked. We decided that he would take the older boys in with him while I stayed with Third and the dog outside. That small delay caused a tremendous amount of trouble.
When my man rounded the corner, he discovered Max standing very close to a large, red button fixed to the front outside wall of the gas station. It was the emergency shut-off button for the gas pumps. He was just dropping the flip-cover over the button. My man grabbed Max.
"Don't touch that!" he said. "Did you push that button?"
"Yep, I already did," Max announced.
My man looked at the button, but it didn't look compressed so he took Max and JayJay into the gas station store, not really thinking much about it.
Deciding that I didn't want to wait outside, I took the bikes, the dog, and the stroller to the rear of the building. I tied the leash to the stroller and bikes, told the dog to stay, picked up the baby, and went into the gas station. We shopped around for a few minutes. I selected a push pop for Third and hot chocolate for me. My man, JayJay, and Max picked Slurpees. Then we got into the line to pay.
As we waited, a customer came in from outside. "Hey, do you realize that no one can get gas out there?"
I'm pretty embarrassed about Max's behavior, but really my man and I win the trophy. We didn't say anything. We glanced at each other. We listened while multiple customers requested gas and were turned away.
"I don't know what's wrong," said the cashier. "Everything is shut down! You'll have to go the the Sinclair down the road."
My man and I glanced at each other again and didn't say anything.
Silently, we paid for our drinks and then we left the gas station to its chaos. I assumed they would figure it out pretty fast that someone had pushed the emergency shut-off button. Max can't have been the first kid to do it, although that gas station is only a few months old so maybe he was at that particular one.
I don't know why I couldn't just open my mouth and say, "Oh, I'm sorry. I think my kid pushed the emergency shut-off switch." It seems pretty simple. But my lips were sealed. I was too scared.
So we high-tailed it out of there and walked to the park with our drinks and let the kids play. While we were sitting there, a police car drove through the parking lot. I was actually afraid that the cop inside was looking for us. Luckily, we were behind a large pine tree. Would there be a fine for the station's lost business?They probably have the entire thing on security camera footage. Too bad we used my man's debit card. I think we'll avoid going there for a while.
I can understand Max's impulse to push that button. It was big and red and he's four. Kids like buttons. Heck, even I like buttons. So I get it.
But he shut down an entire gas station!
As bad as that was, I do not even comprehend his impulsive behavior yesterday.
We then took the bus back to the train station. We walked onto the platform to wait for the train. Max ran ahead and I watched as he stopped before an elderly blind man who was waiting on the platform. He looked up at the man for a long moment. I had time to contemplate what a beautiful scene it made: the blind man's head slightly bowed with his eyes covered by dark sunglasses and Max before him looking up. I even wished I had a camera so I could capture the image. The juxtaposition of youth and age, sight and darkness really touched me. It was a serene moment.
Then Max hit the blind man. His strike connected with the blind man's cane and knocked it against the old man who startled and clutched at the cane. Max walked calmly around the corner.
"Max!" I gasped. I hurried to the blind man. "I'm so sorry!"
"That's ok," he said.
I walked around the corner and found Max and dragged him by the hand back to the blind man. "Tell him you're sorry," I commanded.
Max whimpered and reached for me. I picked him up.
"It's ok," said the blind man again.
But it wasn't ok. I had to teach my son that he couldn't treat people that way. "Tell him you're sorry," I said again.
"I'm scared," whimpered Max.
"YOU WEREN'T TOO SCARED TO HIT HIM!!! TELL HIM YOU'RE SORRY!!!"
"Sorry," Max said finally.
"That's ok," said the blind man. "You're a good boy." He really was a saint and a gentleman.
"This one is my handful," I explained, desperately trying to make things better. "He four and..." I struggled to find a valid excuse for his behavior. I couldn't. "He's crazy."
"My own grandson will probably be like that soon. He's one and a half."
"I'm so sorry," I said again. I walked away, mortified, still holding Max, in shock. Only much later could I appreciate the humor in the situation. His act was so preposterously bad that I have to laugh in disbelief.
After he shut down an entire gas station and slugged an elderly blind man, I just don't know if I can handle anymore of this Spring Break. Today we are definitely staying home.
I really hope someone else can find these situations funny. Otherwise, I just feel deeply embarrassed and guilty for laughing about them later.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Kids Inherit Weird Things
Max was upstairs one morning when he called down to me in an innocent, sweet voice, "Mom, do I have school today?"
"Yes, you do," I said, assuming he would be excited.
But then a rage-filled scream blasted down the stairs, "But I'm still TIRED!"
Then I listened as he stomped into the bathroom, peed, punched and kicked JayJay (who was in there brushing his teeth), stomped back to his room, slammed the door, and went back to bed.
Poor kid has inherited my...distaste...for mornings.
"Yes, you do," I said, assuming he would be excited.
But then a rage-filled scream blasted down the stairs, "But I'm still TIRED!"
Then I listened as he stomped into the bathroom, peed, punched and kicked JayJay (who was in there brushing his teeth), stomped back to his room, slammed the door, and went back to bed.
Poor kid has inherited my...distaste...for mornings.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Booger Blues
Third had just finished lunch and I was wiping him off with a damp washcloth. He was recovering from a cold and in the process of cleaning him, I wiped a large green booger out of his nose. I folded the washcloth in half and then in half again to cover the booger and continued cleaning him up. When he was squeaky clean, I released him from his high chair and sent him off the play. Then I took the washcloth to the counter and got a tissue. I wanted to get the booger off the washcloth so that it wouldn't end up in my laundry.
The booger was gone.
I checked both sides of the washcloth and couldn't find it. So I decided that it was have gotten wiped back onto my baby somehow. I caught him and looked him over, checking his face and hands for the booger. No booger. Odd. But I assumed that it had dissolved on the washcloth because of the moisture.
Some time later I felt a slight tickling itch on my face. I reached with my left hand to scratch it and felt something sticky and slightly squishy. It stuck to my hand as I pulled it away.
THE BOOGER!!!!
I have no idea how it transferred from the washcloth to me. I squealed and frantically washed my hands and face. The squeamish feeling didn't leave for a long time and even though I had thoroughly washed, I kept trying to rub the feeling of the booger off my face. It was pretty horrible and only became funny later.
The booger was gone.
I checked both sides of the washcloth and couldn't find it. So I decided that it was have gotten wiped back onto my baby somehow. I caught him and looked him over, checking his face and hands for the booger. No booger. Odd. But I assumed that it had dissolved on the washcloth because of the moisture.
Some time later I felt a slight tickling itch on my face. I reached with my left hand to scratch it and felt something sticky and slightly squishy. It stuck to my hand as I pulled it away.
THE BOOGER!!!!
I have no idea how it transferred from the washcloth to me. I squealed and frantically washed my hands and face. The squeamish feeling didn't leave for a long time and even though I had thoroughly washed, I kept trying to rub the feeling of the booger off my face. It was pretty horrible and only became funny later.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Shall I Compare Thee to a Trigonometric Function?
This might be too much information, but it was pretty funny, especially if you're a math nerd like my man.
He was sitting on the couch. I had a hankering for a little bedtime entertainment. I went and stood between his knees and rested my arms on his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around my waist and looked up at me."I'm done with my period," I said.
"You are?" He smiled at me and thought for a moment. Then he said, "You're a trigonometric function."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you're periodic." Then he added, "Sine, because you have curves." And he ran his hands over my body.
I'm a math problem. Way to make me feel sexy, honey.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Bedtime Entertainment of a Different Sort
My man brushed his teeth in the bathroom. On his way into the bedroom to go to bed, he shut the door. Normally, this action is reserved for when we want a little bedtime entertainment, if you know what I mean. Otherwise, we sleep with the door open. But on this night, he did not lock the door, just closed it. Then he climbed into bed beside me and went to sleep.
Hours later a loud crash startled me. I lifted my head, blinking rapidly, trying to wake up quickly and identify the cause of the noise. My bleary eyes located my man standing next to the closed door.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Are you ok?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. He opened the door and went to the bathroom to pee.
When he returned I asked, "What happened?"
"I thought the door was open," he explained.
"Didn't you have your eyes open?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said.
Yep, he tried to walk right through a closed door. We laughed about it for a while before we fell back to sleep.
Hours later a loud crash startled me. I lifted my head, blinking rapidly, trying to wake up quickly and identify the cause of the noise. My bleary eyes located my man standing next to the closed door.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"Are you ok?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. He opened the door and went to the bathroom to pee.
When he returned I asked, "What happened?"
"I thought the door was open," he explained.
"Didn't you have your eyes open?" I asked.
"I don't know," he said.
Yep, he tried to walk right through a closed door. We laughed about it for a while before we fell back to sleep.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
You Know Your TV Is Too Big When...
JayJay sat in a chair at the empty dining table, staring out the sliding glass door and kicking his feet. He was very quiet and I assumed that he was tired after a long day with no nap. I was in the kitchen peeling potatoes for dinner.
Suddenly, JayJay startled and said, "Oh!"
"What's the matter, JayJay?" I asked.
"There was a shark on TV."
"What?" I asked, perplexed. Our HOA cancelled cable TV services three years ago and we declined to sign a contract of our own when Comcast came calling. I have a very low opinion of television. We don't have a TV on our main floor, though we do have a couple elsewhere for watching movies. So you can see why his comment confused me.
"The shark went past like this," he explained, zipping his hand through the air from left to right. "It scared me."
"Huh?" I said, still baffled.
"I'm watching TV," he said.
I looked out my kitchen window, over our small backyard, over a fence, over a sidewalk, over another fence, over another small backyard, through our backdoor neighbor's sliding glass door, through their sheer curtains, through their kitchen, and through their living room to their farthest wall where a colossal television hung. Sure enough, JayJay was watching TV.
Suddenly, JayJay startled and said, "Oh!"
"What's the matter, JayJay?" I asked.
"There was a shark on TV."
"What?" I asked, perplexed. Our HOA cancelled cable TV services three years ago and we declined to sign a contract of our own when Comcast came calling. I have a very low opinion of television. We don't have a TV on our main floor, though we do have a couple elsewhere for watching movies. So you can see why his comment confused me.
"The shark went past like this," he explained, zipping his hand through the air from left to right. "It scared me."
"Huh?" I said, still baffled.
"I'm watching TV," he said.
I looked out my kitchen window, over our small backyard, over a fence, over a sidewalk, over another fence, over another small backyard, through our backdoor neighbor's sliding glass door, through their sheer curtains, through their kitchen, and through their living room to their farthest wall where a colossal television hung. Sure enough, JayJay was watching TV.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
The Definition of Fly
We were in the locker room after Max and JayJay's swimming lesson. The boys were changing out of their swimming trunks back into their street clothes. JayJay pulled up his pants and buttoned them. Then he sat down to put on his socks.
"You need to zip up your fly, JayJay," I said while helping Max put on his shirt.
"Oh, yeah," said JayJay and zipped his pants.
Max sat down to put on his socks too.
JayJay said, "Max, you need to zip up your fly."
Max ignored him.
"You need to zip up your fly, Max," JayJay repeated, despite the fact that Max's pants did not actually have a fly.
Max still ignored JayJay.
"You don't know what a fly is. Do you know what a fly is, Max?" JayJay said.
"Yes, I do," said Max.
"No, you don't," said JayJay.
"Yes, I do," Max insisted.
"What is it?" JayJay asked.
"It's a bug that lands on your zipper," said Max.
"You need to zip up your fly, JayJay," I said while helping Max put on his shirt.
"Oh, yeah," said JayJay and zipped his pants.
Max sat down to put on his socks too.
JayJay said, "Max, you need to zip up your fly."
Max ignored him.
"You need to zip up your fly, Max," JayJay repeated, despite the fact that Max's pants did not actually have a fly.
Max still ignored JayJay.
"You don't know what a fly is. Do you know what a fly is, Max?" JayJay said.
"Yes, I do," said Max.
"No, you don't," said JayJay.
"Yes, I do," Max insisted.
"What is it?" JayJay asked.
"It's a bug that lands on your zipper," said Max.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Birdseed for Christmas
My man and I had stayed up past midnight stuffing stockings, wrapping presents, and setting out all the Santa goodies under the Christmas tree. We went to bed exhausted but happy and very excited to see the reaction of our little boys in the morning.
While I was laying there trying to fall asleep, my man suddenly announced, "You are an ostrich."
"An ostrich?" I asked. "Why am I an ostrich?"
"Because," he answered. "You've got your head stuck in the sand."
My man has a habit of talking, walking, and even jumping on the bed in his sleep. It is usually worse when he is stressed about work. At this point in the conversation, I began to suspect that he was not awake.
So I asked him, "Are you awake?"
"Yes," he said.
"No, you're not," I replied.
"Yes I am."
"No, you're not."
"Yes I am!" He sounded frustrated that I didn't believe him.
"Prove it," I demanded. "What day is it?"
"Christmas day," he answered.
"Really?" I asked. Then I thought of the perfect question to prove his state of consciousness. If he was awake, he would refuse to answer. If he was asleep, he would tell me the truth. Genius. "What did you get me for Christmas?"
"Birdseed."
I laughed so hard I woke him up.
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