Hooliganism

Recently, a representative of State Farm insurance knocked on my door. He wanted to see if State Farm could give us a better deal on car and home insurance than we have with our current insurance company. I gave him the information he requested and he left. A few days later, I received a call from a State Farm agent. She wanted a little more detail about our insurance. I agreed to speak to her because I am always looking to save money. She proceeded to ask me questions about what type of cars I own, who our insurance provider is, how much we pay for insurance, etc.

During this process, my rambunctious little hooligans were doing laps around our tiny house and baby Third was kicking around on the floor. The older two were creating a thunderous din over which I could barely hear the woman on the phone. I have been on the other end of similar phone calls and I know that the background noise was probably deafening to the point where she struggled to hear my answers to her questions.

I chose to ignore the chaos so I could end the call as quickly as possible, figuring it would be easier than trying to discipline JayJay and Max while talking to the insurance agent at the same time.

But I looked up and there was Max standing on top of Third. He was holding onto the rocking recliner so it probably wasn't his full body weight on my poor little baby's chest and tummy, but he was literally standing on his baby brother.

I snapped.

"HEY, GET OFF THE BABY!!!!" I bellowed without even taking the phone away from my face to dull the roar.

Max hopped off and continued to gallop around the house after JayJay. Third seemed unperturbed and wasn't even crying. The pandemonium continued with barely a pause. I remembered I was in the middle of a phone call. Oops!

"Sorry," I said to the caller, wincing. I had probably just ruptured her eardrum.

She was laughing. She laughed and laughed.

It turns out she had six kids of her own and her youngest was a senior in high school. So she knew. She knew.

Nail Clippers Guessing Game

I always marvel at how different my oldest two boys are. For example, we took JayJay and Max to see the movie Brave while it was in theater. When the part with the scary bear came on, JayJay cuddled up against my man and whimpered with fear. He was four at the time. On the other hand, two-year-old Max jumped out of his seat and shouted, "Bear! Yeah! ROAR! ROOOAAARRRR!!!!!"

Well, their differences were recently demonstrated for me again.

JayJay had something in his hand. He hid his hands behind his back and asked me to guess which hand he was holding the object in. Luckily, I guessed right the first time. So he hid his hands again and instructed me to guess again. I guessed the other hand and was correct. We went through this process over and over. Each time I guessed right since JayJay kept switching hands back and forth. Not once did he keep the object in the same hand twice. He finally gave up.

"Wow, Mom!" he said. "You're really good!"

He was very impressed with my guessing skills and I was feeling pretty smug about myself. I love having my boys think I am Superwoman.

A few days later I sent Max upstairs to fetch some nail clippers so I could trim his toenails. After a while he returned.

"I have the nail clippers, Mom," he said. He hid his hands behind his back and said, "Guess which hand."

I guessed a hand. Wrong. He hid his hand again. I guessed the other hand. Wrong. He hid his hand. I guessed the same hand twice. Wrong. Over and over again I guessed wrong, no matter what tricks I tried to catch him with the clippers in the hand I guessed.

Finally, when I guessed wrong again, he kept his empty hand held out in front of him. "Guess the other one," he said.

So I guessed the one hand still hiding behind his back. He brought it out and opened it to show me his palm. "Nope! See? Nuffing!"

Yep, he didn't even have the nail clippers. He had me guessing just so he could give me the run-around. That's pretty sophisticated humor for a three-year-old. I certainly don't feel quite so smug anymore.

JayJay's First Ear-Worm

"Be quiet!" five-year-old JayJay said as he came down the stairs. "I'm listening to my brain sing."

I laughed and asked him, "Your brain is singing?"

"Yep," he answered. He wandered around for a minute and then sat down on the couch by me. After a moment, he suddenly blurted, "Don't get too close!"

Amused, I asked, "Was that a part of your brain song?"

"Yes," he said.

"Sing it again," I said.

"Just a minute," he replied. "I have to wait until it gets to it again." Then after a while he repeated, "Don't get too close! Don't get too close!"

I smiled to myself while I browsed Facebook. Suddenly, something bumped into the side of my head. It was JayJay. With his forehead pressed against my ear, he said, "Here. You can listen to my brain. Do you hear it?"

"Yes," I pretended, trying not to burst out laughing.

"It's a good song, huh?" he said. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," I said. "It's an awesome song!"

"Dad," he said. JayJay got up from the couch and went to my man who was sitting in the rocking recliner. He pressed his head against my man's ear. "Do you like my brain song?"

"Yeah," said my man.

"It's a rock song," said JayJay. Then he sang, "Don't get too close! Don't get too close!" over and over again.

Twenty minutes later he approached me again. "Mom, I want you to listen to the music with me." He pressed his head against mine, ear to ear this time. "Listen until it gets to another one," he instructed. He waited and waited with his head against mine for five minutes.

"What song is this called?" he asked me.

"I don't know."

"Dad, what song is this?"

My man didn't know either. Finally JayJay said, "We're going to stop now because the song is ending."

But we were really curious. What song was he hearing in his brain? My man looked for songs titled "Don't Get Too Close" on iTunes. He played two of them for JayJay. No luck. Neither song was the one he was hearing. So I searched Google for lyrics that contained the line. The first one to come up was "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. We just happened to go to an Imagine Dragons concert recently and their music is all over the radio. So we played the song.

"This is it! This is the song!" said JayJay. "Mom, do you know what my favorite part is in that rockstar song?"

"What part?" I asked.

"Don't get too close!" he sang.

"I can tell," I answered.

"That's my favorite part," he said, "but I like all of the parts."

He's got one serious ear-worm! I'm glad the mystery is solved and what a great song to be playing in his head over and over.

Things I Never Thought I'd Have To Say

Max was helping me make chocolate banana bread. I turned around during the process and noticed he was licking his finger. This could be completely fine while baking, or it could be totally scary.

"Max, what are you licking?" I asked.

He quickly removed his finger from his mouth and tucked his hands behind his back.

"Nuffing," he answered.

"Was it a booger?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "It was somefing from my eye."

I turned my back to him so I could hide my face while I gagged.

"Max!" I finally managed. I turned around to face him. "Do you eat your poop or pee?"

"No," he said. "But, Mom, the fing from my eye was just small!"

"I don't care!" I answered. "You don't eat things that come out of your body!"

Sweet Potatoes and Bedtime Stories

Sometimes there are so many funny things that happen in a day, I can't decide which ones to share.

Incident #1:

Yesterday evening I was feeding baby food to Third. He ate about half a jar of sweet potatoes and then decided he'd had enough. When I offered another bite, he raised his little arms high in the air and slapped them down, trying to knock the spoon away. Luckily, I managed to draw it back fast enough and he missed.

"No," I said sternly.

He smiled at me, a wide, toothless grin. I couldn't help smiling back at him.

But I wasn't willing to stop feeding him. The jar of sweet potatoes had already been sitting in my fridge for a day or two and I wanted to use the rest of it. So I made another attempt.

The baby spoons I use are brightly colored, plastic, and quite springy, I've discovered.

I pushed the spoon toward Third's mouth. His arms went straight up and came down. This time I wasn't fast enough. His forearm made contact with the spoon. It bent as his arm pushed past it and then sprang straight again. The spoon turned into a lovely sweet potato fountain. An orange arc of warm sweet potatoes flew into the air and landed all over me. I gasped in shock.

Third giggled.

"Hey!" I said, trying to be serious, which is extremely difficult when faced with a giggling seven-month-old. "That's not funny!"

I refilled the spoon and offered it again. Third swung for it.

"No!" I said and pulled it back. He missed the spoon and slapped his high chair tray instead, and smiled.

I offered the spoon and had to immediately pull it back. "No!" I said sternly.

It turned into a game. Over and over I'd offer the spoon, he'd swing, and I'd say no. JayJay and Max were watching intently and had been so drawn by the exchange that they had moved to stand at my sides and watch me attempt to feed Third.

"No! No! No!" I said.

Finally, I decided to try to get a bite in his mouth one more time and then I'd give up. I would dart in really fast and get it into his mouth before he could swing his chubby arms.

Babies are quick.

I darted in with the spoon. Third swung. He hit the spoon. It bent and sprang back. Sweet potatoes vaulted into the air and splattered all over Max, JayJay, and me.

Third laughed. Max laughed. JayJay laughed. Having all your children laughing at the same time is the best sound in the world. I laughed too.

Incident # 2:

My man and I were doing our normal bedtime routine with the kids. We got their pajamas on them. We helped them brush and floss their teeth. It was reading time.

Supposedly, having a set routine every night will help the children wind down and prepare for bed. Yeah, right. Whoever said that didn't have a JayJay, a Max, and a Third in their family. We made several attempts to get JayJay and Max to sit down and listen to the story. I was holding Third and feeding him a bottle.

On a side note, JayJay and Max have been playing with teddy bears the last several days. They feed them, rock them, put them down for naps, and help them play with toys. JayJay's bear, Go (pronounced jew, see previous post), has been renamed Jet Lego and Max's bear is named Smushies.

Ah-ha! I thought of a brilliant way to get them interested in reading time. "Boys," I said, "Jet Lego and Smushies want to listen to the story!"

It worked! They got their teddy bears and sat down in front of my man to listen. My man began to read. Within a minute or so, JayJay and Max were back on their feet. JayJay was careful as he stood to leave Jet Lego sitting up to listen to the story. Max was not so careful. Smushies fell over and lay discarded on the floor. My man continued to read though as JayJay and Max began giggling and running laps around their bedroom.

After reading for several minutes, my man paused, but without looking away from the text, he reached out, picked up Smushies, and carefully set him into a sitting position next to Jet Lego. Then he continued to read.

Eventually, in the chaos created by our two older sons, Jet Lego was knocked over. A moment later, my man reached out and attentively set Jet Lego back into a sitting position next to Smushies. Then he finished reading the story to his rapt audience of two teddies as expressively as if he were reading to his little boys.

I don't know about JayJay and Max, but Jet Lego and Smushies were most certainly ready for bed when we tucked them in.

Conversations With JayJay

JayJay: Mom, what letters make an oo sound?
Me: It depends. Two Os together say oo. A U says oo. And sometimes even one O says oo, like in do.
JayJay: G says juh. I'm going to name my bear jew. G. O. (long pause) My teacher might get confused and think his name is Go.

This Cooking Show Wouldn't Make It On Prime Time

Have you ever had one of those days?

Well, I just had a doozy of one. As it was occurring, it made me flustered and frustrated. But now that I think about it, it is pretty funny. I promise I'm not normally this dysfunctional.

On a side note, I am trying to correct my posture. I slouch terribly and my shoulders are always drawn up with tension. I figure that if I'm always tense, I might as well be tense in the right way.So I am trying to hold my back straight and keep my shoulders relaxed. It takes a ton of conscious thought to do this. Basically, I am trying to stand and move like a ballroom dancer.

So here's the back story: JayJay is in Kindergarten. His school has some sort of healthy snack program. An outside company donates healthy snack foods to all the kids in school everyday. They get peaches, apples, grapes, cucumbers, peppers, etc. Some of the items are things that make me scratch my head, like the small container of raw, chopped up zucchini. I've never eaten zucchini raw, but I guess maybe some people do. Anyway, sometimes the snacks they give are things that JayJay won't eat raw. Instead of letting the food go to waste, I cook it into something he will eat. One time they gave him slices of carrot and I used them to make carrot cake, supplemented with my own carrots, of course. He loved it. So when they gave him carrots again on Friday, he wanted me to cook with them again. But this time he wanted a pie instead of a cake.

I figured I could whip one together before I made dinner and we could eat it for dessert. Things started out going fine. Standing straight and tall, I put the carrots in a dish with a couple tablespoons of water, covered them, and steamed them in the microwave. While they were cooking, I put together the pie crust. Pie crusts are not my friends. I can make them taste good, but making them pretty is another matter entirely. No big deal. I figure if it's yummy, then the appearance doesn't matter. Don't tell a professional chef I said that though. I rolled out the dough, lifted it into the pie pan, and attempted to shape the edges. I had to tear off a bit here and smash it on there, but the end result would function. I set the crust aside. My shoulders were slightly high. I relaxed them so they dropped down to a more graceful position.

By then, the carrots were finished cooking. I took them out of the microwave and dumped them into the blender. Some of the carrots missed and spilled onto the counter. It didn't phase me. I picked them up and put them in the blender with their brothers. I put the lid on. Now, I know that if you try to blend hot things, the steam pressure will blow the lid off and splatter food all over the kitchen. I was really careful because I didn't want that to happen. I shouldn't have bothered, because even though that didn't happen, carrots still ended up all over the kitchen.

I knew that initially pureeing the carrots would be difficult just because the puree would be so thick. I deliberately added the couple tablespoons of water that was left in the bottom of the dish I steamed them in, hoping it would solve that problem. Nope. After blending for a few seconds, I could tell it wasn't working. The bottom carrots pureed fine, but the top carrots didn't drop down onto the blades. I grabbed a stirring utensil from my smoothie maker, put it through the small hole in the blender lid and tried to push the carrots down against the blades. No luck. That utensil wasn't designed for my blender so it wasn't long enough with the lid on.

I took the lid off.

I know that you should never stick utensils in a blender while it is running. But I figured if I just pushed a little deeper, I could loosen things up, get the carrots moving, and they would puree nicely on their own. I tapped on the top carrots. Nothing moved, but the motor made noise like it was working harder. So I pressed on the carrots harder. Still nothing moved. So I pressed harder.

Boom!

I don't even know what happened. Somehow the utensil struck the blades. My hand was knocked out of the blender jar by the ricochet and carrot puree and whole carrots splattered all over my kitchen. Yikes! I turned the blender off and counted my fingers. They were all still attached. I wasn't injured. I should have given up then, but I didn't. I wanted JayJay to have his carrot pie.

I cleaned up the carrot mess, putting the whole carrots back in the blender and wiping up whatever splatters I couldn't salvage. I checked the utensil. It was split in three places on its end, but I couldn't see any obvious chunks of plastic missing, so I figured there wouldn't be any in the pie. I realized my shoulders were high and my back was hunched.  I corrected my posture and then turned the blender on again, taking care to turn it off to stir the contents. I made a little progress, but half of the mixture was still made up of whole carrots. I decided to add the remaining ingredients of the pie--which included honey, eggs, spices, and butter--hoping the extra fluids would loosen things up.

It worked. The remaining carrots pureed and the spices mixed in. All I had to do was add the sugar. I turned the blender off, dumped in the sugar, and turned the blender on. Moments later, I noticed the base of the blender was loose and the jar moved slightly when I touched it. Uh-oh. I shut the blender off and turned the jar to the right, trying to tighten it. It just got looser and carrot pie filling started oozing out of the base. I turned the jar to the left and it still got looser! No matter which direction I turned the jar, it loosened.

"No, please." I said helplessly as more and more filling oozed from the base of the blender.

My last resort was to tip the jar sideways fast enough that the pie filling would fall toward the lid and the spill would be minimal. No such luck. As I tipped the jar, all the pie filling spilled over the blender and the counter. All I could do was stand there and stare. What a nightmare.

My posture was terrible. I corrected it then carried the blender jar to the pie pan and let the remaining dregs of filling spill into the crust. Then I carried over the blender motor contraption and scraped as much filling off it into the crust that I could. Then I scooped handfuls of filling off the counter and dropped them into the pie pan over and over until most of the filling was in the crust.

The end result: a very messy looking pie. Counters, me, blender, floor, me, cabinets, stove, and me coated in carrot pie filling. All with the grace and poise of a dancer, right?

But finally the pie was baking in the over. Despite the disaster, it should still taste good. JayJay would have his pie.

Then JayJay came upstairs after eating leftover pizza for dinner.

"Can I have dessert?" he asked.

"No," I said. "It's not ready. I'm baking a carrot pie for you."

"I want candy for dessert," he said. "Can I have candy?"

Heck no, my son. Heck no.