Category Archives: Diapers

The dirty side of motherhood.

Real life is scarier than Halloween.

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So here are the undoubtedly anticipated pictures of my adorable children and their Halloween antics.

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Despite the fact that Natalie wanted to be carried through most of the trick-or-treating trek, and that Clark had the leftover flu so he trick-or-treated in isolation with Matt instead of joining our group of friends, most of the night went off without a hitch.

At the suggestion of a friend, we implemented the “Great Pumpkin” this year.

The Great Pumpkin PatchThe kids put half of their candy in a bowl and left it out on the deck for the Great Pumpkin, who takes it away and leaves them a toy while they sleep.  I know you’re a smart bunch and probably don’t need a lot of clarification on this, but the Great Pumpkin is really the new name for my rear end after I finish eating all their candy.

So, on to the really scary stuff.

Grant got his card flipped at school.  There is a classroom management chart system where each child’s name has a plastic pocket next to it with green, yellow, and red laminated cards in it.  If you stay on green all day for good behavior, you pick up a little ticket at the end of the day for a weekly class lottery, most likely for some treasured prize like a glittery pencil.  Getting your card flipped to yellow indicates a warning, and a red card basically means that next week you and your family will be featured on Supernanny.  Well, let me remind you that Grant is an oldest child and obsessive rule keeper, enforcer, and pleaser.  Every day he reports to me that he stayed on green all day and he is quite proud of his consistent model behavior.  Yesterday, his card got flipped.  He forgot his science homework on the kitchen table, so he got a warning for his obvious academic mediocrity.  (I really don’t care about the warning, I think it’s good for him because I reminded him several times to put all his things in his backpack but he was just putzing around.)  However, if you are a first grader with a personality like Grant’s, this is the worst possible thing that could happen in your life.  It’s like he had to come home from school, look me in the eye, and confess that he’d become a serial killer and would now spend the rest of his life in prison.  Anyway, needless to say, Grant’s hopes and dreams have all been crushed and he and I may need counseling to get past this great tragedy.

On to Clark’s scary news.  He had the flu (He’s #4 out of the five of us, and Matt went down last night).  You’ve heard of “Return of the Swamp Monster?” Well, that’s the new subtitle for Clark’s nose, and a new sequel comes out about every 3-5 minutes.  We’re now on Return of the Swamp Monster LXXVIII (I think I forgot how roman numerals work.  Somebody flip my card.)  Eye hath not seen nor can mind comprehend the copious collection of green goopy slime that comes out of Clark’s nose.  Even with excessive tissue use and cleaning there is still a crusty residue at all times.  It’s truly amazing.  Think this, but on his face always:flubber

Now, Natalie’s scary story may have left her scarred for life.  I’m not kidding.  Last night I took the boys to their swimming lessons.  Natalie held my hand and we walked along the side of the pool to where I put our things down and sat on the bench to help the boys undress down to their swim trunks.  About 15 seconds later, I looked up and I could not see Natalie anywhere.  My mom heart sank and I panicked a little.  I stood up and spun around in circles looking for her.  “Where’s Natalie?  Grant, where did she go?”  I was scanning pool, hot tubs, spas all within feet of me and freaking out that she had literally just disappeared.  I started frantically asking the people around me, “Did you see my little girl?  I lost her.  She’s gone.  She was just right here.”  At that point I turned around and saw her walking up to the glass door a few feet away, making her exit from the Men’s. Locker. Room.  She put her little hands on the glass like “Get me out of here,” and I ran over, opened the door and scooped her up.  I hugged her tight, and she buried her little face in my shoulder and squeezed my neck.  For a long time.  I kept trying to talk to her about what happened but she would NOT look at me and just hid her face in my chest.  Finally by bedtime, she was able to admit through weak nodding that she had seen naked boys and then turned around to try and find her mother.  Poor kid.  *I* would be scarred for life if I accidentally walked into the men’s locker room at the gym, and I’m a few ripe years beyond two.  Sigh.  Oh well, maybe this will delay her dating life.  In that case, I’ll let it go.

And Matt’s got the flu now.  I just took him his morning dose of Day-Quil in bed.

As for me, if the Thriller video were remade, being acted out entirely by dishes, that gives you an idea of what my kitchen looks like right now.  So I’m going to be brave, pull up my mom zombie pants and get to work.

Anything scary going on in your family right now?

Dear Wise Readers,

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Just pretend that you’re Dear Abby (except with the kind of morals that you don’t tell people that they should be proud of the life they’ve chosen for themselves even though it’s riddled with sin and selfishness), and hit me with your best advice.  These are real questions, some dumber than others, that would greatly benefit from your insights.  Pick and choose, or if you’re infinitely smarter than I am, go ahead and answer them all.  (I made up little pseudonyms to sign off each question because maybe that will make you forget that there’s ONE person out there with all these issues.)

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  1. Will my laundry situation improve or get worse if I buy more towels and sheets?  We seem to always be running out.  —MAYBE MORE IS BETTER
  2. I’ve been asked to give a talk in church on a big ol’ topic that could take hours to discuss, but I’ve been given 13 minutes.  How do you narrow it down without feeling like you’ve left out some really important stuff?  —CAN’T SHUT UP
  3. When I walk from room to room in my house and see huge projects that need to be done in each one, I get a little panicky and shut down.  I know you can only eat an elephant one bite at a time, but how can I get my brain to just think about the one bite instead of the whole blasted elephant?  —I THINK I’M GOING BACK TO BED NOW
  4. Another laundry question.  I have serious doubts about whether or not the clothes that come through the laundry are dirty or not.  I wonder if many of them have even been worn or if maybe they just fell off a hanger.  Is there any way to minimize this problem without being a 24-hour monitor that has to question and sniff each item of laundry as it is placed in the dirty-clothes pile?  —HAMPER GOALIE
  5. Does anyone have good ideas for cold-weather after-school snacks?  I keep trying to think of a warm snack, but everything I think of is cookies or desserts.  Any ideas for healthy, cozy after-school snacks I can use during the Winter months?— BECAUSE A BAGEL IS GETTING OLD
  6. I have a lot of dried beans in food storage and I really need to learn how to use them this year.  I love soups and stuff, but I never remember to use my beans in time.  They’re supposed to soak overnight, right?  How can I work them into my regular meal schedule?  —OVERWHELMED BY BUCKETS OF BEANS
  7. This one’s a little heavy, but how does one apply the Atonement to all the “little stuff”? It’s easier to identify the application when there are big issues, major sins, or heavy burdens.  I wish I understood better how to hand over all my small struggles (the recurring shortcomings or undeveloped attributes) and tap into the Savior’s ability to “fix” it.  Any thoughts?  —TRYING TO GET IT RIGHT

Twinkle, twinkle little snark.

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Today I am reflecting on the forces of the universe, how the stars all align, the seasons come and go, and how there is some unwritten rule that your best intentions are going to get kicked in the pants by cruel changes of circumstance.  Some call it “Murphy’s Law.”  I like to call it bad words in my head.  Let me explain, with a lovely model I have invented called the IF, THEN, BUT Theory:

If  . . . Then . . . But . . .
Your children are temporarily entertaining themselves, You might think it would be a good time to get on the phone and call the friend you’ve been thinking of, Then you will be trampled by a herd of deranged possessed toddlers who demand your immediate attention.

You begin to feel ambitious and, heaven forbid, a little bit social,

You might decide to host a large dinner party at your house and send out all the invitations,

Then you and everyone in your family will get the flu, and then you’ll be two days away from the party wondering how in the world you’ll get everything ready because you haven’t even showered in four days, much less cleaned your house.

You and your husband have been working very hard to get your budget issues under control,

You might actually get to the point where you have eliminated all your debt and barely started your savings,

Then you’ll have a chimneysweep come to your house who says “Dear God!” out loud several times, and then you find out that you should have all burned to the ground by now, and it will cost you over $3000.00 to replace your fireplace.
You feel unusually productive one day, You might change all the bedding in the whole house:  strip it, wash it, replace it, and congratulate your self for your domestic feat of champions, Then all THREE of your children will pee unlimited fountains while they sleep and all the beds will be ruined that very night.

I’m just wondering if the stars line up like this on other people’s side of the universe or if I’m just the unluckiest* person on the planet.  Show me a little IF-THEN-BUT action in the comments, because misery loves company. 🙂

*And by unlucky, I mean more blessed than half the human race with a warm home, beautiful family, and the love of God, but still just a little grumpy lately.

Frailty, thy name is Flu.

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Puke
Snot
Fever
Sore throat
Cough
Sneezing
Stuffy Nose

That’s been the last few days at our house. Anybody want to come play?

I am not a nice sick person.

I lie in bed and yell out threats that I couldn’t possibly have the energy to carry out. They don’t work. I scare myself when I look in the mirror, so I’m not sure why I don’t scare my children.

Matt stayed home from work today and did the dishes. I’m so glad because I think they were about to grow things. And he gave Natalie a bath after she threw up.  I love him.

I have some serious questions.

1. Do you offer irrational prayers when you are sick? “Heavenly Father, if there’s any way you could make dinner appear on the table, that would be great.”

2.  Does this mean that we probably don’t need to get the flu shot now?

This post has been brought to you by the letter P.

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  1. We shall now crown the new princess of poetry for receiving the most votes in the write-your-own-lullaby contest.  Congratulations to Shoebox Princess for this lovely little nighttime morsel, sung to the tune of Give, Said the Little Stream:

Sleep said the mommy, Sleep,
Rest your head, Sleepyhead
Sleep said the mommy, Sleep
As I tuck you into bed

You’re small, you know
But wherever you go,
I’ll be there to keep you safe

When you wake up we will play
Morning, noon, thru all the day
But for now sweet dreams shall be
Nighttime love from me

She wins this beautiful crown of glory, and a coveted stint on my sidebar.  Nice work, SP.  Don’t you think the tiara will go nicely with your blog theme?  I think that, in her honor, we should all sing this to our children at bedtime tonight.

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2.  Because I’m feeling a little precocious, I wrote this little tongue twister reminiscent of Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.  Only mine is much more realistic . . . unless I’m the only person who lives nursery rhymes (remember all those horrible ones like birds pecking eyes out and stuff?) and the rest of you live fairy tales.

Patient parent pleaded plenty to pouting primary-aged persons:  “Please put piles, pieces, plates and pants in their perfect little places.” But if patient parent pleads plenty and primary-aged persons persist in procrastinating, how much patience can patient parent really possess?  Please let this penetrate your puny perception:  It’s possible that patient parent will purposely project unpleasant punishments at puckish primary-aged persons resulting in personal pain, penitence and panic …. So presume this:  Patient parent’s patience is not nearly as plentiful as you perhaps perceive.  (So go pick up your blasted peck of of piles, pieces, plates, and pants for Pete’s sake!)

It’s possible I need a nap.