Future Plans

Evan: Mommy, when I grow up, I’m not going to get married, and I’m going to live with you always.

Me: Like The Friendly Giant (aka my baby brother).

Evan: Yes, just like The Friendly Giant.  And I’m going to have two TVs and two computers, and I’m going to play video games on one TV and watch TV on the other TV.

Me: Yup, The Friendly Giant has quite the life.

To think, Evan doesn’t even know anything about rent and how little his uncle pays a month.  And that he gets free home cooked meals when he wants them.  And all he has to clean is his room and bathroom.  And he only has to do his own laundry.  And the only bills he has in his name is his car payment and a small credit card, since he bundled his car insurance and cell phone with my parents.

. . . .

I wonder if I can still move back home.

For a six-year-old Fae

(Jane, I know this is late, but once I started thinking about it, I couldn’t stop and then I couldn’t blog a lot because . . . you  know . . . my own kids. But for you, Jane, because I love you.)

I’m six, and I like to swing.  Do you like to swing?  My Mommy is amazed that I can swing for hours making up songs and telling stories to nobody. But it’s not nobody. You’re here.  And so is Becky.  No one can see her, but I can.  She’s funny and smart and never shy and everyone likes her and she doesn’t talk funny like me.  Every Tuesday when school lets out early, we go for a picnic and then I have to go to a special school with just a teacher and me, and she makes me say all sorts of s words and all sorts of th words.  It’s ok. I like to color and talk to her.  But I wish we went to McDonald’s like all the other kids in my class, but Mommy says we don’t have the money, so we go to a park and have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with chips.  I don’t like chips.  I don’t like my brothers either.  I have two of them.  And it’s not fair. T got hurt the other day.  He took one of my toys from my desk and I chased him and Mommy was on the phone so she looked at us and pointed outside so I chased him outside and we ran around and around the swing set until we were on opposite sides of the two-seater with the benches.  T stuck out his tongue and threw the swing at me.  I ducked and it swung back and hit him on the head because he turned around.  That was stupid because it’s a swing and they always come back. And then he went crying to Mommy.  And Mommy yelled at me because there was lots and lots of blood and T stopped breathing for a little while.  But he was still walking, so how was I suppose to know he was hurt bad? We all had to go to the doctor and Mommy had to call the dis- dis- dispatcher.  Mommy had to call the dispatcher to tell Daddy to meet us at the doctor’s.  Daddy came in his uniform and his car but we weren’t allowed in it that day.  Daddy is a police officer. He looks handsome in his uniform, but he’s bulgy and hard when I hug him.  Mommy says Daddy has to wear a special vest so he is safe when he’s at work. I hope he is safe. He works at nights and he can be awfully grumpy.  But sometimes he comes home to eat and he brings Luke’s and we can smell the fries and so we get up and rub our eyes and go hug Daddy.  And he gives us fries!  When I grow up, I will eat at Luke’s too.  When I grow up, I’m going to be a princess.  I already have a princess bed with a canopy and it’s all pink because that’s what princesses like. And I have long hair like a princess.  Mommy says if I don’t cut it, she’ll grow her hair long too.  I like her hair long.  It’s pretty.  I wear dresses all the time.  At my school, I have to wear a skirt every day.  I can’t wear pants.  I like that, except when it’s cold.  Then my knees hit together because I can’t stop them. I can wear tights, but I get in trouble if I wear tights because I can’t keep them straight. Mommy told Grandma that I was six so what do they expect of course my tights were going to get messy.  I get in trouble for talking a lot too.  I can’t help it.  I have so many things to say. And I get in big trouble when we go to church and I talk, but church is so boring at school.  They won’t let me look at the books.  When I go to church with my family and I sit between Grandma and Grandpa, they let me look at books and then I can see the rivers that run through the words and I follow them.  And if I unfocus my eyes I can see through the coating on the wood of the pews and there is another world there.  It’s not fair that I can’t see The Mother when I go to church at school.  Grandma lets me. At school, I’m really good at religion.  But they tell me I can’t be a priest, which I don’t think it fair. God loves me. Why can’t I say the mass?  I can wear dresses like them. My teachers tell me I’ll be a writer.  I got Student of the week Twice!  For my stories! I like telling them, but they hard to write. I write real slow and I can’t get all the words out that are in my head. I tried to write like Mommy, all flowy and curly, but no one could read my writing.  I couldn’t remember what I wrote the week after.

What?!  Mommy?!

I’m coming!

Mommy and Daddy say I talk a lot. They tease me about it.  They tell everyone how when we went to Canada this summer that I went with Aunty Per and Aunty Alice.  They’re my Grandma’s sisters, and I don’t see them a lot.  Just once a year.  Aunty Per is the tall skinny one, and Aunty Alice is the fat one.  I love them.  Anyways, I got to go in their car for the day when we were driving to Canada.  M was with my parents, and T went with my grandparents.  They have a motor home!  And Aunty Per and Aunty Alice let me sit in front with them on a pillow so I could see out and they fed me cherries and red grapes. I love cherries, and I like red grapes but Mommy never buys them.  She only buys green grapes.  So I sat in front talking the whole time, telling them all about my friends and school and stories and Becky and Teddy who came with me. I dressed him up in his dress so he would look good.  They say the only time I was quiet was when I fell asleep.  That was eight hours of driving.  Aunty Alice said I never repeated myself once.  Why would I?  There’s so much to tell!  I was reading this book about a big ship that no one said would sink and then it did and-

I’m coming, Mommy!  I’m coming!

I have to go now.  Mommy said it’s dinner time and then I have to water the plants.  Mommy says I’m good with them because I tell them stories and listen to them. Once-

I’m coming!

I better go.  Bye.

Reasons why I’m not a very good mother

1. Sean was getting out of the SUV and got caught on something.  He hit the garage floor with his whole body.  Splat.  I laughed.  It was funny and reminded me of a cartoon.

2. Aidan crawled over to the dog’s food dish and decided to help himself to a piece of dog food.  I just watched, wondering if he would spit it out.  He didn’t.  I did stop him from getting seconds.

3. I didn’t stop him soon enough from gnawing on the dog’s bone.  Just another reason not to own a dog for a little while and to watch Aidan more closely at my parents’ house.

4. I allowed my boys to play outside too long as a thunderstorm approached.  I was outside with them. watching the storm.  Now they believe they can play in thunderstorms.  Sure, I think about saying yes, but I always decide to say no.  And that’s the important part.

recap 7/22

1. Evan can dive!  From his knees.  But still.

2. I finally got to join a Parent and Me swim class with Aidan.  Everyone is swimming at the same time.  Yea.

3. Hey, what’s up with parents not wanting to get their hair wet in the pool?  This includes one of the dads.

4. Sean believes he’s swimming.  It’s hard to explain.  But it’s not swimming.  It’s a combination of swimming, crawling, and drowning.

5. I found my cord phone.  My phone line still doesn’t work.  Now to find a time to call the phone company without whiny, crying children in the back ground.

6. My boys have three weeks of summer left.  I’m confused with strong emotions.

7.  Evan found my stash of toys.  The boys are back to playing with fairies.

8. We had some wicked thunderstorms this week.  God, I love this time of year.

9. For such a tiny thing, the skin cancer removal really f-ed me up for the day.  With the sleeping all day and the not getting things done and the having someone drive me anywhere I needed to be.

10. For the record, I refuse to admit how early or quickly I fell sleep last night.

Brotherly love

We’re in a bit of a struggle, the boys and I.  It’s about putting away toys. I’ll admit that I’ve been a little too lax about the whole thing.  Some days I let it slide.  Now with the worry of impending classes in the fall and a career on the far horizon, I realized I need help and I wasn’t doing the boys any favors by picking up their toys every other day or so.  Now I remember more often to stop play and get toys picked up.  You want to watch a DVD?  Toys have to be picked up. You want a storytime tonight?  You better pick up those toys.  We’re going somewhere.  Pick up the toys.  Since it is my house and one of the little tornadoes isn’t able to pick up after himself quite yet, I pitch in and encourage and help organize the effort.

Last Sunday, getting the boys to pick up was like pulling teeth because we were on an agenda.  A thunderstorm was moving in and I had to get the boys in the pool long before it hit.  I reminded them of swimming and told each boy to collect a certain type of toy to put away.  Swords for Evan.  Star Wars figures for Sean.

Evan scurried around picking up toy after toy.  Sean moseyed around the room. Finally all that was left were random toys, and I told Evan to pick up five, which he did.  He ran to get ready, and Sean finally finished his chore.  I told him to pick up five more toys and then he was done. But instead he just sat on the couch.

Let the waiting begin.  And the encouragement.  And the warning of less swim time.  And the negotiating.  Sean refused.

Evan became distraught.  He found a small pile of toys next to the toy organizer.

Evan: LOOK, SEAN!  Look!  Here are some here!  You can put them away!

Sean refused.  And refused.  And refused.

Then Evan picked the toys up and put them away.

Evan: Mommy, I picked up Sean’s toys for him!  Can we go now?  Please!  Sean did his work because I did it for him!

Me: Evan, you did a great job!  Thank you!  We’ll go, but Sean will not be able to swim.  It is not fair for you to pick up Sean’s part of the mess.

Evan:  It’s ok, Mommy!  I did it for Sean!

Me: Thank you, Evan.  Sean, we’re leaving, but you can’t go swimming because you didn’t pick up the last five toys.

Sean started to cry.

Evan: Don’t cry, Sean!  Look!  I found some toys!  Come here and pick them up.  (Evan stood by some toy trucks pointing to them.  Then he ran a few feet and pointed to under the train table.)  They go here, Sean!  Hurry!  You can do it!

Sean ran over to the trucks and then carried five of them and placed them under the table.

Evan:  See, Mommy?!  Seanny did it!  Now he can go swimming with me!

Sometimes these kids are amazing.

The trouble with grandparents or the trouble with *my* parents

As we were leaving my parents’ house the other day, I noticed the storm had blown a huge piece of paper around my tire.  I picked it up and started walking towards the community garbage can, across the street and down the ally, passed two houses.  The boys were playing in the front yard with my parents were keeping an eye on them as well as puling weeds.  I dumped the trash and started walking back.  I noticed the boys were playing on the corner, on the curb that flowed into the street.  Not a place I wanted my children.

Then I watched as Aidan saw me and started into the street, only to be sidetracked by the giant puddle in the middle of the street.

“NO!  NO!  THE BABY!  THE BABY!  GET HIM!” I screamed.

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could,  but I was slowed down by my flip-flops and the soft mud.  A cold and sickening thought occurred to me as I ran.  I could see through the chain link fence on my left, through the school yard to the end of the street, but I couldn’t see to my left because of concrete backyard walls to see the other end of the street.  And I knew if a car came from that direction, I would be too late.  I pushed harder.

I watched my father stand up, take in the situation, walk into the street, and pick up Aidan, carrying him back to safety.  All with a slowness that made me growl.

I ran across the street, glancing to make sure I wasn’t going to be hit by a car.

I opened my mouth as I stormed onto the sidewalk.

My dad (still holding Aidan): Look at your Mommy!  I bet she hasn’t run like that since high school.  (He chuckled.  He f-ing chuckled.)  She was so worried.  There weren’t any cars coming, Fae.  I had it under control.

Me: YOU had it under control?!!! If YOU had it under control, my child would not have been in the street!!!  (I grabbed Aidan out of his arms.)  What is wrong with you?! Haven’t you learned anything after three children?!  You are not going to watch my children again!

Do you know how hard it is to yell at someone who is taller, bigger, and more imposing than you?  He might be retired, but my Dad still has the aura of Cop hanging on him. Do you know how hard it is to yell at someone who was the imposing authority in your life for your childhood, one that held the balance of justice and law in the house?

I must have sounded like I was five years old, in pig tails and a pink dress, scolding my daddy for letting my Teddy get wet.

Because my Dad chuckled again.

My Dad: You don’t mean that.

I did what any sane parent would do in this situation.

Me: MOOOOOOOOM!

I called in the higher authority.

My Mom: T, keep a better eye on the boys.  Fae, your father knew what he was doing.

Yeah, knew what he was doing.  Right.  Three kids and he still acts sometimes like the stories of my babyhood.  Come to think of it, sometimes so does she.

My parents acted like they didn’t know a damn thing when it came to raising a baby.  When my Mom was pregnant with me, they went skiing.  The doctor told them no, but since he originally said yes, they went any ways. Thank God, it rained.  She refurnished a dresser for me, using paint stripper and white paint, while she was pregnant.  She used chemical oven cleaner while she was pregnant with me.  My dad insisted on doing my first diaper change and then proceeded to get poop all over every item on the cart, the cart, and me.  My Mom stuck to a strict four-hour feeding cycle, which would have been fine if I didn’t sleep through the night, and she ignored doctor’s orders to wake me up to feed me in the middle of the night.  (Now we all hate to wake sleeping babies, but I was nearly failure to thrive.)  No one will admit who held the door and who held me when a hotel door slammed on my head, causing “the most interesting shades of purple and red,” and then no one took me to the hospital.  My Dad was on watch when I did my first roll . . . off of the couch and into the corner of the coffee table.  Sure, I could swim before I could walk, but I also received my first sun burn before my first birthday.  I swallowed a tack.

Yup, my parents were child-raising geniuses.  I’d forgive them if they were teenagers.  They weren’t.  They got better though.  The only crazy thing my mom did while pregnant with my little brother was lie about her pregnancy to ride the Matterhorn Bobsleds at Disneyland.

Maybe I should start looking for another sitter. . . .

Recap 7/15

1. Is it so crazy to expect children to do things the first time you say something?

2. I found Aidan on top of the island.  He crawled out of his high chair and was eating butter.  This is the first child I have to strap into the high chair.

3. Did you know they serve these tiny little cartons of ice cream?  I haven’t had one yet, but I have two waiting for me in emergency.

4. The older boys now know there is a game called ”Angry Birds.”  Let’s take a moment to thank their father.

5. Evan has decided on what he wants to buy with his birthday money.  Sally Hansen Salon Effects, Blue Ice. http://www.sallyhansen.com/products/nails/nail-color/salon-effects-real-nail-polish-strips  I’m completely torn on how I feel about this.

6. Sean has decided that basketball sucks.  That dribbling sucks.  That running sucks.  That basketball is an overrated sport and can’t wait until he learns a new sport this week in his class.

7. Another mom’s night out.  In my giddiness to be with other adults, who aren’t related to me, without kids, I mentioned the blog.  And then told them where it was.  Actually spelled it out.

8. I may be self-conscious for a week.  And then I’ll do what I did a week after telling the family who would actually read this and what I did a week after I told some old friends about it and what I did a week after I got outed, I’ll say f- them if they can’t take a joke.  Or I’ll adopt that attitude today.

9. Ants.  WTF.

10. God bless DVD time, without which I would never be able to write or read or eat or clean or nap (after battling ants until 1:30am) or hide in a little corner wishing it was bedtime, oh God, why isn’t it bed time.

Standing up and looking down

Exasperated.  I looked down at Evan in his shirt and underwear, lying on his back, playing with toys.

Me: Evan.  What toy did you put in your underwear?  Take it out.

Evan: (giggled) I don’t have a toy in my underwear.  It’s my penis!  It’s standing up!

If that wasn’t bad enough, a fully dressed Sean walked over and stood over Evan, looking down at him.

Sean: Hey, Evan!  My penis is looking down at you!

Oh, brother.  Help me.

Fine. Whatever. Let’s move on.

Ever have one of those days where it tests you at ever turn?  Well, I had one of those afternoons.  Yesterday.

About lunch time to about 2pm, it is actually hot enough to fry an egg.  Or melt crayons (note to self: post that craft). So when Aidan is sleeping with fan going full speed because his room likes to overheat, I have to keep the boys quiet.  Since I need to keep sane, part of that time is now DVD time.

But before DVD time, I had the brilliant idea of doing workbooks.  And before doing workbooks, I had the brilliant idea to have Evan start working on thank you notes while I finally worked on Sean’s.  That’s about the time the plan started to fall apart.

Because Evan whined that his sharp pencil had no eraser (because he had broken it off months before) and his pencil with the eraser wasn’t sharp enough (because I have yet to find a pencil sharpener that will work).  When I finally pacified him and he started to work on the ONE sentence he had to write, I took out some random thank you cards that I found scattered in boxes.  I found they were already written.  For presents Evan had received when he was less than six months old.  Apparently I excel at writing notes, just not sending them.  So instead of writing a few notes each, we just did one a piece.

Which led to the fight of workbooks and my God, if you decide to make a crazy looking number and then decide not to erase it and start over, please don’t whine.   So after a half hour of starting, we finally I had one thank you note and one workbook page done.  Fine.  Whatever.  Let’s move on.

To DVD time.  Since I haven’t hooked up the TV yet, the boys have been watching DVDs on the portable DVD player on the ground in the family room.  Which worked fine.  Until yesterday.  When it didn’t.  At first, the play and enter buttons wouldn’t work.  The minute we saw the main menu, we could go no further.  I tried a few different DVDs, carefully cleaning each one before placing them inside the player.  Nothing.  Fine.  Whatever.  Let’s move on to a Disney DVD with that hateful FastPlay.  And of course, the next three DVDs I place in the player do not have Disney FastPlay.  Errr.  And now Evan has his heart set on Up.  When the main menu popped up, Evan jabbed at the play button before I could stop him.  And the bloody thing worked!

Until half way into the third chapter.  And then it didn’t play.  And then it skipped into half way into the movie.  And then it didn’t play.  And then it stopped in the first chapter.  And then it didn’t play.  I stopped it.  I cleaned the DVD. I pressed buttons.  I prayed.  I asked for brownie magic.  I hit it.  I threatened it.  I put a voodoo curse on it.  It would play for two minutes than stop.  Fine. Whatever.  Let’s move on.

So after an hour of fighting with the DVD player, I decided it was time to play “quietly” with toys.  As in for-the-love-of-God-be-quiet-so-mama-can-write-and-your-brother-sleeps-or-so-help-me-God-.  As in the boys tried to keep the noise level to a low roar in the family room. I stormed upstairs to where I can get a little relief with a rant or write the reasons why I’m a bad mom or enter a new post under the penis rules.  But I found the internet was down.  Because we’re sorry ma’am, but the bill and the disconnect notice were sent to the old address, we’re sorry for the inconvenience though.  I paid the damn thing and have to wait one to four hours for it to be up.  And by the way, what happen to that higher speed I ordered?  Fine.  Whatever.  We’re moving on.

So now, I have to do chores.  Because the boys are playing without me.  Happily.  And like not waking a sleeping baby, you have to be a fool to intercede.  I threw together the only casserole that I will eat and placed it in the fridge.  I did the dishes.  I started to- what now?!

Evan had received a Transformer (robots in disguise) for his birthday.  It was too advanced for him, like Sean’s was for him.  But unlike Sean who was content to play with the robot always as a robot, Evan wanted to learn to transform it. By himself.  Since I was humming along, I failed to realize  the mounting frustration in the other room until it was at a whine/cry level, sorta like nails on the chalkboard.  When I offered to help, he whined more.  When I tried to show him, he accused me of breaking it.  When I tried to explain, he accused me of not knowing what I was doing.  With parenting, yes.  With transforming robots to jets, no.  I was done after twenty minutes.  Fine Whatever.  Let’s move on.

I called a mommy-time-out.  And Evan followed me up whining/crying/ fit to wake a baby.  I turned and looked him in the eye.

Mommy, needs a time out.  IF she does not have a time out, she will do something rash.  Mommy is very frustrated, and IF she does not get ten minutes, just ten minutes, she will break your Transformer.

I shut the door, and Evan left.  For ten minutes, I focused on better things than the crazy, horrible afternoon.  Fine.  Whatever.  Let’s move on.

I heard Aidan cooing in his room.  I got him out of hock and took him downstairs as he chatted about his dreams.  Evan was still whining/crying over his Transformer.

Evan.  I think we need to work on that another day.

I took it and placed it high in an upper kitchen cabinet.  The whining started.

Hold it.  Get your sandals.  We’re going swimming at Grandma’s.

Sometimes you just can’t beat a bad day going worse.  You just have to change the place or attitude instead.  Or dunk your head under cool water.

Fine.  Whatever.  Let’s move on.

Battle cries

It probably won’t surprise any one that my boys run around the house waving swords in the air, shields firmly in place on the left arm, yelling as they chase each other.

The fact that yesterday afternoon they were yelling, “BOBBY!” as their battle cry just might.

But this morning’s battle cry, which woke the baby, was even weirder.  “WAFFLES!!!!!”

Um, what?