If you’re having a little trouble with your menu planning, it’s obviously because you don’t have a 6-year-old who’s the boss of everything. Sorry about that.
Tag Archives: random
Real life is scarier than Halloween.
So here are the undoubtedly anticipated pictures of my adorable children and their Halloween antics.
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 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:
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?
This post has been brought to you by the letter P.
- 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.
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.
If I used Twitter…
I would tweet something like this:
“I survived yesterday and actually got a lot done. I slept hard, and today’s a better day. Thanks for your kind words even though my troubles were laughable. I saw this quote taped to my kitchen window last night, and I smiled and thought: Man, isn’t that the truth?“….
See?, this is why I don’t Twitter. Brevity is not my forte.
A three-course post
Appetizer:
I really think that someone who understands life as a mother of small children should invent a “stink detector.” Lately, my days have been riddled with phantom odors that I can neither find nor identify. It’s making me crazy. If there were some kind of contraption with a raunch radar that could beep when you’re closer and closer and give you some kind of bacterial analysis and tell you what’s causing the smell, THAT is what I would call making the world a better place.
(Now wasn’t that appetizing?)
Main course:
Matt and I went out on a date last weekend and played this free “game” at Borders. We had 12 minutes to go find a few books that the other person would just love, then we met up, showed each other our books, sat on a couch and perused them. One of the books Matt picked for me was “Mother Teresa, in her own words.” Anyway, I read almost the entire book while Matt flipped through tomes about Chinese characters, the founding fathers, and Native American historical sites. She had so many great things to say, that Mother Teresa, but one that really jumped out at me was this (paraphrased, because I didn’t actually buy the book):
“God doesn’t expect us to be successful. He expects us to be faithful.”
I’ve been thinking about that for days, and how true I think it really is. God can be successful with or without our help; he’s omnipotent for heaven’s sake (no pun intended)! He only needs our faith, our devotion, our heart. Then He can work out our salvation. It made me reflect on how much I’m always trying to “accomplish,” when really I should just be increasing and acting upon my faith in Him. It was a quite liberating moment of enlightenment that ties in nicely to all the thoughts I’ve had recently (and we’ve discussed here in the comments and beyond).
And there was one other thing, too. Mother Teresa worked with lepers and poor people tirelessly. One person commented to her that they wouldn’t touch a leper “for a million dollars,” to which she replied (paraphrased again), “I wouldn’t do it for a million dollars either. I wouldn’t do if for two million dollars. But I would do it for the love of God.” How cool is that? It made me think of how so many women today opt out of motherhood because they wouldn’t make all that hard sacrifice even if someone paid them to do it. I’m no Mother Teresa, but I have to agree that I do the hard things I do because of the love of God… the love I feel for Him, and the love I feel from Him when I do what he asks of me.
Dessert:
Behold, a little Clark video we made to share with grandparents. Please do not tell me what a stellar mother I am, or how I’m doing a great job and all that other nice stuff you might be compelled to say (and that grandmothers are obligated to say), but you really should see this because it is SO sweet. Also, don’t be distracted by the sound of a dropping toilet lid in the background.
This is seriously just a simple case of great kid. (His idea, his testimony, his conviction.)
Diapers and Divinity 