Do You Smell Something?

Sister: "Can you make the decision to get married and not have kids?"

Me: "Ahhh, sure."

Sister: "Then what do you do after you get married?"

Me: "You live your life."

Sister: "But what do you DO?"

Me, wistfully: "You do whatever you want to do. And you don't have to wipe runny noses or poopy bottoms or cook anything with 'nuggets' in the name."

Tank: "Mah bot-um's nah poopy!"

Thank goodness for small favors.

Cutting Out the Middleman

Tank: "Ah wan dat por Chwiss-mash."

Me: "Well, you can put it on your Christmas List and tell Santa that's what you want him to bring you for Christmas."

Tank: "Ahm tel-wing YOU, so YOU can bwing it to me por Chriss-mash."

All Creatures, Big and Small

Sister, in hysterics by the Christmas tree: "Spider! Spider! Spider! There's a spider in here!"

Me, from the kitchen and before coffee: "Then get a shoe and kill it."

Sister, in continued hysterics: "Tank! Get a shoe, and kill the spider!"

Tank, thoughtfully and calmly, kneeling by the tree: "I can't kilw da pidew. He mah fwiend. He wanna see da Chwiss-mash twee."

Merry Chwiss-mash Little Pidew.

Limping Into The Weekend

Tank, pointing to the left shoe on his foot while holding the right shoe under his arm: "Wook wha I did!"

Me: "Yes, you put on one of your shoes. Why didn't you put on the other one?"

Tank, sighing: "Too many feet."

We have worn ourselves out this week.........

A Solid Foundation

Sister, clearly impressed with a new restaurant's restroom decor: "This is SO cool!"

Sister, checking out the sink combo that included an automatic soap dispenser, automatic faucet, and hand dryer: "I wonder how they put this all together!"

Sister, studying the ceiling, the walls, the floor: "Cement. That is how they put this together. Cement."

And it is as easy as that.

Just So We Are Clear

Big Brother: "Mom! Tank just threw applesauce at me with his spoon! And it got all over the floor!"

Me, giving Tank "the look": "We don't throw food. Get down here and clean this up. If you throw food again, you will go to timeout."

Sister: "Is that for the rest of dinner?"

Oh, I need to nip this in the bud.

Me: "That is for the rest of his life."

The Perfect Mother's Perfect Breakfast

I hand grated cinnamon this morning for the kids' cinnamon toast. I hope you aren't too intimidated. 

I mean, since Tank woke us all up half an hour early, I was sure I had enough time to bake pumpkin bread. And the box said the cooking time for muffins was 20 minutes, but since I don't have the patience for muffins (Yes, you read that right. I hate fighting those little paper muffin liners that fall all over the floor with the slightest breeze, and washing the muffin pan without using liners? Pah-leez), I thought I would just put all the batter in a loaf pan and bake it for 30 minutes. How much longer does a full loaf take over muffins? Well, I can answer that. It takes 30 minutes longer. So with 15 minutes left before the kids had to walk out the door to catch the bus, and a half-baked loaf of pumpkin bread taking its sweet time baking in the oven, I had to pull breakfast out of my......pantry.

Cinnamon toast! And knowing this menu item would meet with resistance (there is no accounting for taste), I decided to use sugar instead of my usual honey because we have all read how much healthier honey is, right? I got the toast buttered with real butter which I probably should have hand churned, but Tank only woke us up half an hour early, so I fell back on the store bought stuff. Then I sprinkled on the good mood-inducing, cell aging accelerating, shut up and eat the breakfast I made for you, sugar. 

Now for the cinnamon because you can't have cinnamon toast without cinnamon right? I was going to go out into my urban garden where I grow all of my family's produce needs (remember that Sister doesn't do fruits or vegetables), and harvest the cinnamon sticks, but I was operating in a time crunch. So I opened the cabinet for the sub-par, store bought jar of ground cinnamon only to encounter four jars of various peppercorns (I may have an impulse buy issue) and no cinnamon. 

To the big pantry! Oh, don't be too jealous of the big pantry. It is really just a little closet that holds a year's supply of paper and plastic bags that I have brought home and intend to reuse because I can't seem to remember the reusable grocery bags that hang on the garage door, so I won't forget them. The big pantry has a variety of spices from my single days when I was free to cook recipes without "nuggets" in the title. No ground cinnamon. But, there is a jar of cinnamon sticks that I don't remember buying, so they could have been purchased yesterday. And you know the old saying "necessity is the mother of invention". I am a whiz at inventing! Ooops, was that humble bragging? I'm pretty good at that, too. 

Well, I broke out the cinnamon sticks and my nutmeg grater. Yes, I have a nutmeg grater. It was my Grannie's, and I remember her using it all the time. What sweet memories it brings up, and I take special care of it. Don't fret, I am sure you take special care of all your family's most special heirlooms, too. Anyway, as I was saying, I moved aside every spice in the pantry to dig out the nutmeg grater from under an old box of baking soda and knew I could finish off the cinnamon toast with hand grated cinnamon. Again, please don't think about the soggy store bought, processed cereal you fed your kids this morning and feel like you missed the Perfect Mother Boat. It takes many years to reach Perfect Mother Status, and I have been hard at it for at least the last five minutes. 

So I started grating the ageless cinnamon sticks on my family heirloom nutmeg grater over the toast, and all I can see is nothing. But I can smell it! So I grate harder, which produces shards of cinnamon stick on the toast, and those shards only mess up my presentation. I pick them off and soldier on with the grating. It produces the most wonderful smell, and the grating is so fine that it doesn't add any of that unappetizing cinnamon color to the toast. 

But the clock is ticking, and we have a reputation for being punctual, if not a little on the early side, so I quickly cut the toast into kicky little triangles and drop the plates a little too loudly on the kitchen table, announcing, "Cinnamon toast!" And my little angels, staring blankly at the gorgeous presentation of cinnamon toast while they skeptically sniff my culinary masterpiece, only jumped a little when I exclaim with enthusiasm, "Eat it!"

It was a beautiful, calm, quiet morning in the McKinney House with a lovely homemade breakfast, and I really enjoy this Perfect Mother thing. It is fulfilling and makes me complete. Well, almost complete. I wonder what happened to half of my thumb nail? It seems to have gone missing.

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

"Santa might bring me three things this year because everything is different this year because it's fall."

Then she continued singing the "Wow, Wow, Wubbzy!" theme song.

Tank's Reasons Why He Can't Take a Nap

Me, putting Tank in his bed: "Time to take a nap."

Tank: "Done wan nap. When ah cwose ma eyez, dere a pidew in ma eyez."

Me: "When you close your eyes, there's a spider in your eyes?"

Tank: "Yesh. Ah need ma sox to make it dead."

Me: "You need your socks to kill it?"

Tank: "Yesh." Takes off dirty socks and rubs them across his closed eyes. "See? Make pidew dead."

Me: "Yeah, those stinky socks would kill anything. You still have to take a nap."

Pick Me Up

Sticky fingers reaching up. 
Chubby cheeks rosy and warm.
Shiny eyes bright with eagerness.
Little dimples full of charm.

Bouncy feet on tippy-toes.
"Mommy! Mommy!" in a sing-song.
"I wanna hode you! I wanna hode you!"
Yes, my sweet baby, all day long.

Why Are My Kids SO Loud?

Tank's favorite new hobby is to sing an original composition  (Staw Waws Webels, T-Wex, Staw Waws Webels, T-Wex) for all the world to hear. 

Me: "Hey! Save that for outdoors!"

Tank: "Save wha fow outdoows?"

Me: "The loud voice."

Tank: "Youws ow mine?"

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

Some mornings it is really hard to get out of bed. 

I didn't sleep well. My hips hurt. My head hurts. The kitchen is full of dirty dishes. The dirty laundry pile is big enough for Tank to get lost. And I had to give up coffee. 

But then, this little creature, with crooked front teeth and clear blue eyes, pushes her face close to mine, and speaks a little nugget of wisdom that can only be explained as divine inspiration.

"Living is being the best way.

Because you get to play with your toys.

And you can't play with them when you're dead."

I Got What I Asked For

Tank: "Cwick!"

Kick to the back of my car seat.

Tank: "Cwick!"

Kick to the back of my car seat.

He wants me to "click" on the DVD player in the van.

Me: "Please?"

Tank: "Peas?"

Me: "If you ask me nicely, I will turn it on."

Tank: "Nicewy."

Breathe, Two, Three, Four

Sister: "Stop breathing on me!"

Big Brother: "I can't help it! I have to breathe!"

Sister: "Well you don't have to breathe on me!"

Big Brother: "I can't help it!"

Remind me, again, why I taught them to talk.....

Naptime

Kid 1 yells "Stop it!" to Kid 2 who hit the wrong button on the TV remote and started the movie over again, so Kid 2 yells "Stop yelling at me!" to Kid 1, who yells back "Well, stop yelling at me!", then Kid 2 screeches "Stop! Yelling! At! Me!", and Kid 1 screeches back "Well! Stop! Yelling! At! Me!", so Kid 2 declares "You yelled at me first!", and Kid 1 replies "You yelled at ME first!", then Momma comes into the room, turns off the TV, and says "Everybody go to your rooms", to which Kid 1 melts to the floor in a dramatic breakdown of "NOOOOOOO!", and Kid 2 throws her body onto the couch with a "But he started it!", while Kid 3 starts sobbing amidst the screaming chaos, so Momma asks Kid 3 "Why are YOU crying?", and Kid 3 says, "Kid 1 is in twouble."

Nevermind, Momma will go to HER room.

Sister Ponders the Mysteries of the Universe

"Do you move into your own house when you get to middle school?"

Every Breath You Take

Sister: "BIG BROTHER! SERIOUSLY!"

Big Brother: "WHAT?"

Sister: "YOU ARE BREATHING ON MY TOY!"

Nine days until school starts. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

But not on Sister's toy.

The Scapegoat

Big Brother comes into the kitchen, crying and holding his stomach: "He bit me!"

Well, we know who "he" is. I walk into the family room to find Tank waiting for me, chin to chest, eyes peering up from the side.

Me: "You bit Big Brother? We don't bite."

Tank, pointing across the room: "Sister bit him."

Nice try, Kid, but I'm not buying it.

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

"You don't wanna mess with me."

Parenting Partner

After an hour by hour account of Big Brother's experience at his first overnight camp, he reluctantly went upstairs to take a shower with soap. 

Sister turned to me and declared, "Our big boy is growing up."

So glad she is here to help me raise these boys.

On This Day in History

On June 25, 2015:

Big Brother, who has eaten American cheese, woven wheat crackers and strawberry yogurt for lunch every day for the last six years, requested spaghetti for lunch today. Spaghetti? That is not on the "I will only eat these eight foods" list.

Sister, who believes that all fruits and vegetables are the work of the devil, especially those stinky strawberries, requested a second helping of watermelon. She ate the first helping without threats or coercion? 

I don't know whether to ride this good fortune and try to potty-train Tank today, or drop everything to go buy a lottery ticket. 

Me: "Hey Tank. Let's ditch that diaper and wear these really cool robot underwear!" 
Tank: "Never!"

The odds are more in my favor with the lottery.

My Apt Pupil

Sister, languishing on the couch: "You have to do everything I want you to do and get me whatever I want to eat because I'm sick."

Big Daddy, looking accusingly at me: "Well, she DID learn from the best."

Like a Trip to the Spa

Clerk at the grocery store this evening: "Are you ready to get home, put away these groceries, and relax?"

Me, staring at her like she is crazy: "This IS me relaxing. The kids at home. Take your time ringing up those groceries."

Doesn't It Feel Like Christmas?

I feel the Christmas spirit on this first weekend in June. Enough so that I felt compelled to compose a little song to celebrate.

Two Nights (to the tune of Winter Wonderland)

Don't hear a thing, are you listening?
There's no screams, no tears are glistening.
Giddy with delight.
We're happy tonight.
The kids're at Grannie and Papa's for two nights.

Gone away is our early bird.
The house is dark, I don't hear a word.
No screams before dawn.
I sleep all night long.
The kids're at Grannie and Papa's for two nights.

In the morning I can take a shower.
All alone, no faces 'gainst the door.
No little voices asking "Wha a dewing?"
Over and over until 
I scream "No more!"

We're going out, we'll conspire.
We'll party hard, but we're liars.
Leftover pizza is our fate.
Asleep before eight.
The kids're at Grannie and Papa's for two nights.

Summer Vacation, Day 7, Tantrum # 12,465

"I don't like any of the food in this house! It's so bad that it makes me almost throw-up all over everything!"

Well, we can't have that. I better stop cooking. 

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

Sister: "Let me tell you something you need to know. You can NEVER cut down a tree that has something that you ride on."

Me: "You mean, like a tire swing?"

Sister: "Yeah. Like a tire swing."

Summer Vacation, Day 3, Part 3

Big Brother, excited: "I had a dream last night that we got three dogs! One for each of us! I got a beagle like Gertrude. Tank got a chihuahua. And Sister got a hound dog."

Sister, unhappy: "I don't want a hound dog! I want a poodle!"

Big Brother, indignant: "Sister! It's MY dream!"

Tank, laughing: "Siwwy Sistew! No puddles!"

Big Brother, adding: "And Big Daddy got a wolf!"

Sister, incredulous: "Big Daddy! You got a wolf?"

Big Brother, answering for Big Daddy: "Sister! It was only a dream!"

Sister: "Well, I had a dream last night, too."

Big Brother: "No you didn't!"

Sister: "Uh-huh! I was sleeping, and thinking, and saying the words in my mind! I was dreaming!"

Summer Vacation, Day 3, Part 2

Big Brother: "When did George Washington die?"

Me: "I don't know."

Big Brother: "How did he die?"

Me: "I don't know."

Sister: "I thought you knew everything!"

Me: "No. I said I was always right. I didn't say I knew everything."

Big Brother: "Well, there was that one time when you were wrong, remember?"

Me: "Okay! It's quiet time! No more talking!"

Summer Vacation, Day 3

Sister: "Do I have to get married?"

Me: "No, you don't have to get married."

Sister: "Good!"

Me: "Why don't you want to get married?"

Sister: "Because I don't want my stomach to hurt."

Me: "Why would your stomach hurt?"

Sister: "It would hurt if I had a baby."

Me: "You don't have to have a baby. You can get married without having a baby."

Sister: "Well, I don't want any kids because they are a LOT of work! When does school start?"

Me: "Not soon enough."

Honing Important Skills

The quiet of a cloudy Saturday morning was broken by the gutteral, raspy declaration, "Hulk Smash!"

Set to break up the boys' wrestling match, I discovered Big Brother pinned on the couch by Sister, and she declared again, "Hulk Smash!" as she held him down.

This move might serve her well someday. Carry on, Hulk.

And So It Begins

I turned to the sound of little, running feet to find an angelic face full of excited expectation. Sleep tousled hair, bright shiny eyes, sweet pink cheeks, and a plump bow-shaped mouth all frame a pert little nose shimmering with a constant flow of gleaming snot. How can I deny such a face? A face created within my own womb, reminiscent of his handsome father, and so pure and innocent that it breaks my heart into tiny pieces every time I gaze upon it. I long to smother those sweet cheeks with a thousand kisses, except a shimmer on the right one suggests smeared snot, so I'll refrain for the moment.

Then a sweet voice, like angels singing on high, emerges from that bow-shaped mouth while chubby little hands extend an empty plate in my direction, "Maw, peas?"

And my heart aches. So sweet. So trusting. So hopeful. But I must deliver the evil words, "I'm sorry, Tank. The cinnamon rolls are all gone. You ate the last one."

There is silence so deafening that I think my ears will burst. And the breath is sucked from the room, eagerly waiting in dread for the response of heartbreak. It is not long in coming, and its ferociousness is staggering in its intensity. The initial scream of denial is piercing but quickly tamped down by the rapid, demanding stomping of angry little feet. 

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" is the lament that fills the air and surrounds our souls. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" is its wrenching echo that rips the heart from your chest. "NOOOOOOOO!" is the denial that renews the anger and heartbreak. 

"I WON MAW SIN-MON WOES!!!"

And the plate clambers to the floor, and the sturdy little body collapses next to it, and the kicking, and the pounding, and the screaming ensue. Tears flow. Wails flow. Snot flows. The mourning of the devouring of the last cinnamon roll rivals the anguished lament of a thousand mourners at a wailing wall. It is so consuming. It is so agonized. It is so woeful.

"Would you like some strawberries?" I offer.

There is silence so deafening that the echoes of the recent screams still ring in my ears.

"Okay." 

My angel lithely springs to his feet, the soul-wrenching flow of tears gone, the keening wail silenced, the eternal flow of snot still at a run.

And we have survived the first hour of the first day of summer vacation.

I Meant To Do That

Just this morning, 
Big Brother fell UP the stairs,
I fell DOWN the stairs,
Sister fell ON the step stool at the bathroom sink, and
Tank fell OFF of, well, I'm not really sure whether it was the arm of the couch, the coffee table, or a toy truck that is not made for riding on or standing on, but he did point at the TV stand and try to blame it for his fall.

Either the universe is in an uproar, or we have efficiently and painfully demonstrated heredity.

Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Sister, suddenly grabs me in a hug: "I love you, Mommy!"

Me, surprised by the suddenness: "Oh, I love you, too!"

Sister, pulling back and looking very serious: "I still love you even though you are mean to me."

Uh-oh. She is setting me up.

Me: "I'm mean to you?"

Sister, very assuredly: "Uh-huh. But I am mean to you."

Me, a little confused: "You are?"

Sister, nodding her head: "Uh-huh. But Big Brother and Tank are more mean to you because boys are meaner."

Nope. She is setting her brothers up. I wonder when the fall will be?

Shaping the Next Generation

Their little minds are absorbing information at an alarming speed as they grow and experience this world and society around them. We have to teach them so much that is not inherent or instinct. They need to be taught to be kind, say 'please' and 'thank you', to tie their shoes, and how to make the perfect peanut butter and honey sandwich. (The secret is to mix the honey with the peanut butter on one side and then put honey alone on the other side....)

And you kind of know this when you become a parent. But you are still in awe when you have a monumental moment of passing on your acquired knowledge and experience to your offspring. You know it will be a moment that changes their young lives and expands their thirsty minds and sets them on the path to ultimate enlightenment and profound happiness. And you can't help but be transformed by the moment yourself.

"No, Honey, it is not a thief that is also a camel. A 'camel thief' is a thief that steals camels."

Don't Blame Me!

As I watched Tank stomp around in his rain boots, roaring and waving his arms, talking and singing to nobody in particular, I wondered at his imagination and murmured to Big Daddy, "Where does that come from?"

Sister piped up from across the room: "It didn't come from me!" 

He's Advanced

Tank is now three years old. We have always known that he is advanced, and we have considered private, academic-accelerated physics-immersion preschool. But we were concerned it would not challenge him. I mean, this kid has his own language! In this language he has developed and nobody can interpret because we are just not smart enough, he tells epic stories, delivers eloquent monologues, and roars like nobody's business. What other spoken language in the human world has a roar as a means of expression? None of them! You have to cross over into the animal kingdom to find a roar. This. Kid. Is. A-mazing.

As he has aged to catch up with his heightened mental capacities, he has shown an awareness of social consciousness and has realized that he has to dial it back, take it down several notches, and communicate with others on their level. As such, he is starting to translate his language to American English at an alarmingly rapid rate. 

A particularly proud moment came the other day, when he was rewriting a computer game on my laptop. The computer was not responding to his commands, probably because it is a year old and WAY behind Tank's level of programming. Anyway, he got frustrated, and he succinctly summed up his feelings, translated them into American English, and yelled at the computer screen, "AW, SH!"

We are expecting his first college acceptance letter any day now.

And That's How It Is Done

Tank: "Drest? Go ow-side?"

Me: "No, it's naptime. You can get dressed and go outside after you take a nap."

Tank: "Weally?"

Me: "Yes, really."

And he ran upstairs and jumped into bed.

What just happened? Who is this kid?

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

"On my birthday, I will be six! Then I will be seven, then eight, then nine, then ten. Then 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17. Then I will be in high school. Then I will be in college. Then I will be a grown-up. And when I'm a grown-up, you will die."

Someday I Will Miss This

Tank: "Mommy."

Me: "What?"

Tank: "Mommy!"

Me: "What?!"

Tank: "MOMMY!"

Me: "What, Tank?!!"

Tank: "MOMMY!"

Me: "TANK!"

Tank: "What?"

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Me: "Big Brother and I saw a rainbow this evening."

Sister, incredulous: "You did?" 
Then excitedly, "Did you find the treasure?"

Me: "We didn't go look for it."

Tank demonstrating his emerging verbal skills with authority: "Dere no tre-shure."

I've got another 'know-it-all".

Contemplating the Size of the Universe

Sister and I checking out the crescent moon and planets at dusk.

Sister: "What planet is that?"

Me: "That is Jupiter."

Sister: "Is it far away?"

Me: "Yes, it is very far away."

Sister: "Seventy miles?"

Me: "No, it's a bit farther."

Sister: "Seventy-TWO miles?

Sister's Advice for St. Patrick's Day

"Watch out for those sneaky, little guys. I forgot what you call those sneaky, little guys, but they will pinch you if you are not wearing green. And they are sneaky because they are trying to keep you from their pot of gold. If I had a pot of gold I would buy an American Girl doll."

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

Background info: "The Chronicles of Narnia" is on television.

"Let me tell you something you need to know. Some men are half man and half horse."

She is WAY ahead of her time.

Sister's "What If?"

"What if Chewbacca's nickname was Candy and not Chewy?"

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

"That's why they call it Thneedville."

Oh Here, Let Me Get That For You......

Sister, putting a card into an envelope for Big Daddy's birthday, points to the dry adhesive: "Can I do that part?"

Me: "Sure."

Sister, starts to stick out her tongue to wet the adhesive then stops: "No, that's disgusting. You do it."

Sister's Random Statement of Fact................and a Follow-Up

"Things that are not appropriate for kids are appropriate for adults, but not for kids."

Pondering, pondering, pondering.

"What's 'appropriate'?"

Open Position

March 5, 2015
6:05pm

To Whom It May Concern;

This letter serves as my formal resignation from the position of Head Cook in the McKinney Household.  In the absence of a written employment contract, my resignation is effective immediately.

One of the requirements for the position of Head Cook is "to plan acceptable menus and ensure prepared meals meet quality standards." This rather general statement of duty is currently being interpreted by at least four different factions within the household, and these factions cannot agree to the definitions of  "acceptable menus" and "quality standards." I can no longer work in the chaos that ensues upon the announcement of tonight's menu. The demands and responses have become anarchical and riotous and beyond the reach of the duties I assumed to be part of this thankless position.

The "acceptable menus" is constantly debated, and it has become impossible to introduce new dishes into the monthly menu plans as one faction is obsessed with fast food chicken nuggets and pizza and throws a fit when this option is not available nightly.  The second faction cannot think of anything but chocolate and cookies, asking continuously, "What's for dessert?" The third faction has a limited vocabulary and tends to follow the loudest of the first two factions by either yelling, "pea-sah!" or "quoo-quee!" along with "Doe wan dinnah!"  The fourth faction does not help alleviate the insanity by avoiding the dinner table to silently sneak cereal or peanut butter and toast for dinner.

Furthermore, "quality standards" is not a consistently defined requirement, and absent a written definition, is subject to change on a moment's notice or toddler's whim.  The baked spaghetti that was "yummy!" two weeks ago is now "yucky!" and is no longer allowed on the dinner table by Inspector #2.   Inspector #1 will accept carrots on his plate, but the long, skinny carrots he accepted yesterday are no longer allowed because they are not short, fat ones today.  Inspector #3 demands that everything be put on his plate in large quantities for his audit, but then he announces, "Doe wan dinnah!" and refuses to eat any of it or even stay in his seat. Inspector #4 has been relieved of his auditing duties this week because he incredulously asked, "Did you drink that whole case of hard cider from Christmas already?" at a most inopportune moment.

For the aforementioned reasons, I can no longer continue in the position of Head Cook.  It is without regret that I leave tonight's dinner to burn, the countertops covered with dirty dishes, and go out to dinner by myself.  Alone.  Somewhere without a kids' menu.

Regards,
Momma

Sister's "What If?"

Sister, with a lisp, contemplating life without her newly-lost front tooth: "What if my growed up toothsh doeshn't grow in before tomorrow? Do I shtill have to go to shchool?"

I guess the shiny of kindergarten has finally worn off.

Sister's Random Statement of Fact....and Reiteration of Her Authority

Sister, confidently: "He is called Dark Vadar because his suit is black."

Me, gently: "Well, his name is DarTH Vadar." 

Silence. The look. Silence.

Me, just trying to help: "It's DarTH Vadar. D-A-R-T-H. DarTH."

Sister, staring into my soul: "Yes. I know that, Mommy. Stop telling me that."

Oh Yes, She Did

Sister is almost 6 years old now.

"Mommy, I just want to be alone.  I don't want to be looked at.  So don't look at me. Okay Mommy?"

And In This Corner.....

As the language skills progress, the constant toddler chatter is morphing into snippets of civilized communication. 

Tank, at play: "(Unintelligible chatter for 5 seconds)."
Then sweetly: "Heh-whoa Dwag-gun.  Heh-whoa Bad-may."

Oh, this sounds like it is going to be a brutal smackdown. 

Old and Slow

Big Brother is contemplating whether to sign up for a Father/Son kickball game.

Big Brother, doubtfully: "I don't know if Big Daddy likes to play kickball."

Big Daddy played on a work kickball team B.K. (Before Kids).

Me, encouragingly: "Big Daddy likes to play kickball."

Big Brother, leaning closer to whisper: "Does Big Daddy just hide his fast running from everybody?"

Snort.

Me, struggling to maintain composure: "Yes, Honey.  He is just waiting for the right opportunity to bust it out."

The Perfect Mother's Valentine's Day Box

Last night after I finished churning the artisan butter I plan to serve with the next morning's breakfast scones made from hand-ground flour and before I settled into my cozy little closet converted into a plush reading nook in one afternoon and stocked with the 100 books every Perfect Mother should read before 30, I decided to make Sister's Valentine's Day Box.  

Now I know there are so many ideas and instructions online, but I think it is my responsibility, as a new Perfect Mother, to share my plans for the Perfect Valentine's Day Box.  This is a craft that you and your little sweetheart can do to create those special memories that will last for years to come.

And look!  Only 5 easy steps!  Unless you aspire to Fancy, then there are 6.

1) Dig a box out of the recycling bin. 
Is that dried yogurt? No smell. We're good. Yes, I heard you. You want a Frozen box.

2) Cover it with wrapping paper. 
It's not ONLY Christmas paper. It's Valentine's Day paper, too.  It's red, like Valentine's Day hearts.  The snowflakes? Valentine's Day is in the winter.  Valentine's Day paper. Frozen?  I don't have any blue paper.

3) Use obscene amounts of tape to repair the rips in this $1 roll paper. 
I know it's not Frozen, but you can pretend the extra tape is ice.

4) Decide AFTER it is wrapped that you need a hole in the top.  
I know it's crooked, but lots of things are crooked, even in Arendelle.

5) Let child write their name on the box with half dried-out marker. 
No, write YOUR name.  YOUR name is not Elsa.

Bonus Step for you 'Fancy' Perfect Mothers:
6) Peel Valentine's sticker from the doctor's office off of child's coat and slap it on the box.  
Oh look!  The fuzz on the sticker from your coat looks like the fur from Ana's cloak.

There you go, Perfect Mother! Try not to look too smug at the classroom party.

The Perfect Mother

I just wanted to share my Mom success today.  I have reached a new level of "Perfect Mother", and I hope you won't be too pea green with envy.

Today, I drove the kids to school while still wearing my pajamas.  Not the plaid flannel pants that are 20 years old and sometimes pajamas and sometimes not, depending on whether I am also wearing proper foundation garments.  These are real, baby blue p.j.s, right off the clearance rack. Oh, and I complimented my ensemble with my favorite holy, or is it 'holey', slippers.  Hey!  See the embroidered monogram?  These were magnificent in their heyday!

And the spectacularness, I don't care if you don't think that it a real word, I'm on a roll today, doesn't stop there.  Sister mentioned, on the way to school, that they have a field trip today.  You remember field trips, don't you?  Where Perfect Mothers remember to return permission slips before the kids are getting on the bus, and everybody has a sack lunch because you won't be going to the cafeteria that day........

I wonder what they do with the little Kindergarten kids who don't have permission slips and sack lunches? Oh, I can't be bothered with those details right now. I've got spectacularness to get back to.

Anyway, I hope you will understand if I stand a little taller, stick my chest out a little further, not be able to suck in my post-baby belly at all, and wrinkle my nose at your very stylish, very chic, very NOW tall boots with detachable spats. Why again, do you need detachable spats in the suburbs? No judgment.  Just curious. I would wear them, too, if I could fit my wide calves into them. 

Hopefully someday, you will reach Perfect Mother status, then you can wrinkle your nose with me.

Sister Ponders the Mysteries of the Universe

Cruising across town, on a cold February evening, listening to the radio.

Sister: "Why did everyone stop playing "The Grinch?"

Me: "Well, that's a Christmas song, so they don't play it after Christmas."

Sister: "But they played it BEFORE Christmas."

That will get me grounded if my mother finds out

Big Brother yells from the other room: "Ooooooowwwwwww!  What the....?"

Me, in my head: "What the....?  Where the hell did he pick THAT up?"

Inappropriate Language

Grocery shopping with Sister riding in the cart, drawing on a scrap of paper with a pen.

Sister, not looking up from her drawing: "What does 'screwed' mean?"

Dang!  Where did she hear that?  Who is the potty mouth in this store?  I may be a bit prudish, but there is just some language I don't want my 5 year old to use!

Me, trying to address this tactfully: "Well, it means that you are in trouble."

pondering, pondering, pondering.........

Me, unable to stand the suspense: "Where did you hear that word?"

Sister, holding up her pen: "You said this pen didn't work because it was unscrewed."

I wonder if she will yell "This marker is screwed!" in Kindergarten tomorrow, or the next day.

Lesson in Parenting From Under a Pile of Laundry

When bonding with your child over the 100th Day of Kindergarten project, and you decide to get all show-offy and let your Kindergartner do the 100 Skittles rainbow you saw online, remember:

1) Skittles get messy in a 5 year old's fingers.

2) Skittles get mushy when put in contact with glue.

3) Skittles get melty when a 5 year old's fingers put them in contact with glue.

4) Messy, mushy, melty Skittles leave a rainbow of color on every surface in your kitchen and your 5 year old.

5) Construction paper is flimsy and gets soggy when you glue on 100 messy, mushy, melty Skittles.

6) A 2 year old will eat any and all Skittles that fall to the floor, regardless of how messy, mushy, melty, gluey, or papery stucky they are. 

7) That flimsy, soggy construction paper with the not-quite-dried messy, mushy, melty Skittles rainbow does not go into a back pack easily or cleanly or in one piece.

Happy 100th Day!

Never Ever

Big Brother, exasperated: "There's too much stuff on this table!"

Me, more exasperated: "That's why I told you to clean up your stuff!"

Big Brother, groaning at the lecture: "Nnnnnnmmmmmm."

Me, in that annoying Mom voice: "I don't tell you these things just to hear myself talk!"


FLASHBACK.......
Me, in that annoying 14 year old voice: "I am NEVER saying that to MY kids!"

Die Hard Fan

Sister: "What's that?"

Me: "Iced tea."

Sister, pondering the wonders of the universe: "Why do you like iced tea?"

Me, just trying to fix dinner: "I dunno.  Why do you like chocolate?"

Sister, looking at me like I don't know anything: "Because I'm a fan of chocolate!....................AND sugar. Really!  I am!" More pondering....................."I'm also a fan of french fries."

Dinner is going to be a huge disappointment.

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

"When we get a housekeeper, Big Brother and I won't have to clean our rooms."

Me: "When we get a housekeeper?"

Sister, sigh: "When we get housekeeperssssss......."

She obviously knows something I don't know.

Sibling Rivalry

During a commercial break in "Home Alone 2: Lost in New York"

Sister:  "What if we went to New York, and Big Brother got lost?"

Wishful thinking? Or the beginnings of a diabolical plan?

Sister's Random Statement of Fact

"Nobody knows what happened to Alvin and the Chipmunks' parents."

pondering, pondering, pondering......

"Maybe they just went away."

Lesson in Parenting From Under a Pile of Laundry

If you decide to put a full box of toasted oat circle cereal on the table next to your toddler, make sure you close up the plastic wrap and the box.

Do it.  

Even if you set it down so you could grab the open carton of milk out of his hands just before it achieved a complete horizontal position over the table.

Tank's Ode to the Booger

Little green and gooey blob,
Clogging up my nose.
Come on out of there, my friend,
And get between my toes.

Let me smear you 'cross my cheek,
so quick on snot so clear.
My sleeve will take you right along,
Along to my little ear.

Momma says "Use a tissue!",
if I wanna get you out.
But I like you on my fingertip.
It makes my sister shout.

So while it's fun to chase her,
And take you for a run.
My very favorite place for you
Is the middle of my tongue.

The End is Not Near Enough

I was swimming up through the seaweed of dreams.  Floating just below the surface of wakefulness. Watching the sunlight of awareness shimmer through the waves of sleep. The cries of the baby are muffled as I near the surface, closer to the light. Louder. Closer. More light. 

Darkness. I'm awake. The morning room is still dark. The baby's cries are clear now. It is too early. I look to the ceiling, to the five point shadow above me. Why is Cookie Monster spread eagle on my ceiling? 

Oh, that's the ceiling fan.

I need Winter Break to be over. Right now.