2. I hate generic diapers.  Maybe I’m doing something wrong.  But for me, they are not as absorbent as name-brand.  That doesn’t even make sense.

3. I have to learn to a) stay downstairs with Aidan at all times or b) keep everything off the island, like sugar, hot chocolate mix, or oatmeal.

4.  We made scallion pancakes.  They were amazing.  And the boys helped!

5.  Sean’s teachers told us he’s one of the brightest kids in the class with the most knowledge.  He’s also funny and cracks them up daily.

6. Evan is sick enough to stay home but healthy enough to cause trouble.  Lots of trouble.

7. There are Star Wars sandwich cutters.  Why am I only finding this out now?

8. Wednesday night I couldn’t take it any more.  I left the kids with their father and escaped.  While I chomped down on ok store sushi, I dreamed of soy paper spicy tuna handrolls.  Next time, I’m escaping with more money and time.

9. Dude, I rock the Cub Scout handbook.

10. This is how I have felt about the house and family this week:

(From The Simpsons episode “Bart of Darkness)

Meanwhile, Marge and the girls are hard at work scrubbing oil-covered
rocks.

Lisa: Oh, there’s something unsatisfying about scrubbing these rocks
       and I think I know what it is.
        [a wave washes a new coat of oil on the once-clean rocks]
Marge: Lisa, I know it’s frustrating, but we made a commitment, and we
       have to see it through, no matter how unpleasant.

Um.  What.  And more importantly, WHY?

Me: What do you think I should do to you when you lie?

Evan: You should put something yucky on our tongue.

WHAT?

Me: Like Tabasco sauce?

Evan: That or olive oil.

Me: How did you think of this?

Evan: K told me that’s what her daddy does.

Uh-huh.

Me: And why do you want to do this punishment?

Evan: Because it’s shorter than time out.

(The consequence for lying in my house is to stand with your nose to the corner for the length of time out.  A bit old school, but it works.)

Who said this kid wasn’t smart?

Their Father: Hmmm, maybe we should just take away video games for a week.

Evan: NO!!!  That won’t work at all!

Or it wouldn’t work for your plan, little man.

Me: Well.  I know.  Maybe we decide not to lie.  If you didn’t lie, you wouldn’t have to get punished.

Pause.

Evan: MOMMY!!!  That’s a great idea!  Let’s do that!

Done and done.

Yesterday evening they were nearly mended, but apparently there was a side effect of a dose of daemon possession with the illness.  Let me tell you how much fun that was.  Maybe I shouldn’t.  I’ll just say I started browsing airline tickets online. 

Then today.  Evan has canker sores too and a sore throat.  He also lets out a keening whine when the pain gets to be too much.  It grates on my nerves.  Luckily Sean’s moaning of pain ended about a half hour after he was supposed to be in school.  Joke was on him, though.  I made him do school work.  The only TV they watched during school hours was Sesame Street for Aidan.  Not that he watched it much.  He preferred to whine at my leg, so I couldn’t make phone calls.

I burnt nap time trying to be a responsible parent.  I made Evan read to me, the villainess that I am.  Oh, how his throat hurt.  He just could not possibly read.  Could.  Not.  Read.  I pointed out he was having a fine time screaming and yelling moments before, when the game he and Sean were playing one can only assume it was “Wake Up Aidan and Watch Mommy Lose It.”  Aidan decided not to play.  For that, I’m thankful.  Since I was playing the sinister villain so well, I made Sean get back to the table and work on learning to write his name.  You would think he would appreciate my turning to the dark side.  But, alas, no.

So after much whining, fighting, crying, arguing, wishing, playing, learning, writing, cooking, not eating, cooking, eating, gargling, swishing, drinking, I gave in to a little TV.  It is only a matter of time before Aidan comes looking for me.  I hear is whining now.

How many more hours to bedtime?

So I scrapped dinner for something quick and easy and done with a toddler on the hip.  I sent the boys off with their father so I could focus on Aidan.  And the night could only get worse.  Aidan was miserable.  He was up most of the night.  And not the slightly exaggerated “most of the night,” but at least 30 minutes of every hour.  There was nothing I could do.  Hand him his pacifier.  Give him his mama shirt.  Give him his bear.  Put on the music box.  Pat his bottom.  Say soothing words.  Not a happy boy.  And I kept from being miserable by staying up all night, not sleeping.  (Though the company I kept was probably had more to do with my disposition.)  By 5am, Aidan had finally fallen to sleep.  At 6am, Evan joined me in bed.  At 7am, Sean joined us in the bed.  By 8am, I could no longer pretend to sleep.

Saturday wasn’t too bad.  The day moved at a slower pace; the to-do list wasn’t completely conquered.  It was just as well.  I was fine as long as I was on my feet.  Sunday, I was destroyed.  Apparently one can go so long before lack of sleep catches up to that person.  I always thought I would have a clear warning with my slip into discussing penguins when I’m beyond tired.  Instead I could feel myself swaying on my feet as I dashed from baking cupcakes, to carrying Aidan, to making sure Sean was working on his mazes, to helping Evan do his homework, to making frosting, to making lunch, to- huh, I think the room is a little off kilter.  No one tell the Wally; she had lectured me the night before, starting with “Jesus, Fae,” which, when I think about it, is how all the lectures start that I receive.

The weekend came to a close.  I did nap.  We got half of what needed to be done, done.  Which is to say, we got everything that needed to be done done. 

So Monday I was resolved to be a hurricane and lay to waste the rest of the to-do list.  The morning was action packed.  Then I picked up Sean, whose teacher told me that he had cried twice that day.  We both went “huh” and looked at a very subdued Sean walking around in a circle.  This can’t be good.

At home, Sean cried when I cut his Sith Lord sandwich.  Fine, what harm is there to make a new one.  Then he stared at it.  I put Aidan to bed, who had used his sandwich like a car.  I received my mom’s call.  Ten minutes later, I found Sean still staring at his sandwich.  I ran back upstairs grabbed our Star Wars collection of books and put them on my bed.  I ended up carrying Sean to his bed, though he insisted he didn’t need to nap, he needed to play Lego Star Wars.  And I needed a weekend away.  We can’t always get what we want.

I read him his books, comparing one alien character to another.  As I droned on, I found myself falling asleep, dropping the book, and Sean protested he needed to be playing Leo Star Wars . . . .

Two hours passed with his head resting on my thigh.  I looked at the clock, much the same way I did Sunday.  (Huh, the boys must have played with my clock; it can’t be that late.  I’ll look on the- Crap, it is that late!)  You could point out I needed the sleep and that I’m staying up way too late and I should act more responsibly and not spend half my night talking.  You could, but I wouldn’t.  Sean looked up at me, and I suggested Lego Star Wars before we got Evan.

As the night progressed, Sean took a nose dive.  He just sat on the couch.  That’s it.  He didn’t play.  He didn’t eat.  He didn’t yell at Aidan.  Well, as long as Aidan didn’t wiggle over him.  Then I noticed Evan drooping.  Ah, crap.  By the time I got Aidan down, the older boys were feverish.  I put them into bed early, reading to them for twice the usual length.  I waited for another night of sleeplessness.

All that came was a nightmare from Evan who ran down the hall, jumped into  my bed, threw the covers over his head.  Um, ok.

This morning the boys have no fevers, but they are tired.  So very tired.  It’s going to be a long DVD day.  And I really want that weekend away.

2. I totally kicked ass on getting things completed for Cub Scouts this last weekend.  Hike, picnic, scrap-book, leaf rubbings.  Yeah, I rock.  Now for this weekend . . . .

3. Which leads me to . . . . I don’t think I have a Girl Scout Cookie dealer.  Not good.

4. Aidan is having issues.  If he’s teething on his two-year-old molars, I’m going to bang my head into the wall.

5. Evan wants to quit Cub Scouts.  He doesn’t want to play T-ball.  He doesn’t want to do martial arts.  He doesn’t want to read.  Why?  Because it’s too hard.  I think I just found another reason to bang my head.

6. I discovered that Evan’s school has a giant bulletin board filled with pictures from the big Halloween festival.  Aidan and I are front and center.  It explains why all the kids say hi to me every day.

7. With all the stickers I have, that  I receive, I can’t find stickers I want to decorate my phone and iPod with.

8. Look at the date.  I just bought the boys something for Valentine’s Day.  My excuse is who knows if they’ll have it next time.

9. That’s not bad though.  While Christmas shopping, I came up with my plans for Valentine’s gifts.  Though I’m not sure what crafts we’ll do.  Maybe something with clay . . . .

10. You know what sucks.  I can’t seem to find time to read other blogs.  Sucks.  Sucks.  Sucks.

Me: Hey!

Twins’ Mom: Are we still going to the park?

I looked out the window at the wet, overcast day.  Then I heard the sounds of fighting.

Me: Yes.

***

Me: -Then I said – OH CRAP!!!

Aidan had decided that he wanted to follow Evan and Sweet Girl, who jumped from a platform three stairs high.  He slithered on his stomach over the edge.  He was now dangling.

I had arrived two minutes too late to get the best ramada next to the playground.  I snagged the larger one that was up a hill.

I raced down the hill.

Aidan let go.  He fell on his butt.  He stood up, looked around, and ran after his brother.

I stopped.  I looked back at the ramada to Sweet Girl’s mom.  She shrugged.

Sweet Girl’s Mom: At least, he’s not hurt!

 ***

Me: Before I forget, here, Cop Dad.

I handed him a container.

Cop Dad: What’s this?

Me: You brought over that with cookies last time I watched KJ.  So I’m returning it.

Cop Dad: But there are cookies in it.

Me: Yes, well, it’s customary to return a container full of something.

Twins’ Mom: Let me get this straight.  If I lend you a container, you’ll fill it and return it.

Me: Yes.

Twins’ Mom: Let me try one of those cookies.

***

I held the leash of the twins’ dog as the moms ran to do other things.  I kept an eye on all the kids, especially the tiny red-jacket tornado.

Twins’ Mom: Look at her.  She looks good with a dog.  She’s a total dog person.

I turned and raised an eyebrow.

Loud Mom: Yes, but I wouldn’t wish that on her right now.  Look at her plate.

Me: The rule is we can get a dog as soon as everyone can pick up after themselves.  Now that their father is gone, they may actually get one one day.

***

Sweet Girl’s Mom: Um, Fae.  Did you lose Aidan?

Me: No.  I.

I scanned the playground.  No red jacket.  No blue flannel jacket either.  No bright-Perry-the-Platypus-blue jacket either.  Huh.  I scanned the park.  Long past the playground, past the bathroom, about 30 yards away or so, I spotted a toddling tornado.  He was toddling after his brothers and the Boy Twin, who were a good ten yards further away.  Oh Crap.  I race down the hill, passed a breast-feeding mom.   Then I relied on my theater training.

Me: (Using The Voice) BOYS!!!

Four boys stopped in their tracks.  They turned around and looked at me.

Me: (Using The Voice) COME ON BACK NOW!  (I twirled my finger in the air, the sign my boys now to turn around and come.)

Four boys walked back to the playground.

I walked back to the moms.  With a cocky grin.

Me: See that.

Sweet Girl’s Mom: Yeah.  All of them stopped and turned.  Even the Boy Twin.

Twins’ Mom: He’d be afraid not to with that holler.

Me: I was meant to raise kids in the country.

Loud Mom: No, you were meant to raise a dozen boys.

Me: Um.

Twins’ Mom: And a girl!

Me: Um.  You know I’m not married and-

Loud Mom: (Puts her arm around me) Don’t worry, sweetheart.  You’re still young.  You have plenty of time.

Me: Um.

***

Me: Evan.  Five Minutes.

Evan: But, Moooooommmmmmmyyyyyyyyy!

Twin Boy: Don’t worry, Eban.  I have three minutes.

Yesterday, because the cavalry wasn’t joining me, we went straight to the crying room.  Since we hadn’t been in a few weeks, the boys were out of practice.  Aidan is at the stage where he just can’t sit still for more than five minutes, but the older boys knew better.  They lost half their privileges for the day, and I was contemplating a punishment where they just laid in bed all day.  But then it was communion time.

We happened to be in the priest’s line.  The older boys walked up with their arms across their chests, not talking, not laughing, not pushing.  Aidan squirmed in my arms.  We got up to the priest.  He laid his hand on each of the older boys’ heads.

The Priest: May God bless you and slow you down.

Then he put his hand on Aidan’s head.

The Priest: May God bless you, but nothing will slow you down.

I know, right?

2. The problem with being sick on the weekend is ruining the weekend.  No fun activities, no missing school, no doing homework that will bite your butt in the days that come.

3. Food poisoning is not the best way to lose weight.

4. Evan has learned how fun sanding is.

5. Sean has worked hard to unlock The Emperor from the Star Wars Lego game.  I can hear that demented laughter now.

6. Today was the first day I used The Voice on Aidan.  It worked.  My friend pointed out that it was my first time and that it worked.  We were both a little shocked.

7. Evan won a ticket jackpot at an arcade.  His first thought was to buy an army of small plastic skeleton warriors.  My first thought was no.

8. I went three days without caffeine.  I don’t want to do that again.  Of course, I don’t want food poisoning again either.

9. Those nail stickers.  Not impressed.  But I’m willing to try one more time.  I do have a second pack, so I might as well.

10. ”Oh, Fae.  You work hard enough.  You work harder than anyone I know.  Now you need to work smarter, not harder.”  Oh, right.  Sometimes my best friend is so wise.

I used to worry that if I was unloading the dishwasher he would climb onto the door.  Now I worry that he’ll drop a plate or a dish, breaking it in hundreds of pieces, and cutting himself.  Also breaking my favorite baking dish may cause me to cry, like when he broke my three-tier appetizer plate.

In the last two weeks, I’ve noticed a large increase in Sean’s shirts in the wash.  The boy would wear the same shirt until it rotted off if I didn’t make him change it every morning.  Then the other day I walked into the boys’ room to find out where they were in their morning routine (no where good), and Aidan, freshly dressed, toddled behind me and into the room.  He went over to Sean’s dresser, pulled open the shirt drawer, reached in, pulled out an arm load of shirts, toddled over to the hamper, and dumped them in.  Um.  Well, that solves that mystery.  He toddled back to the drawer to repeat the process.  Ah!

A couple of months ago we were invited to a party where everyone had to dress crazy.  I asked Evan for help.  (Because who would be better?)  Evan got a kick out of the whole process, and now he asks at least once a week if he can pick out my clothes.  I have limited him to shirts and jewelry.  Now that I have a whole bunch of girl superhero shirts, he’s pretty cool with it, and he takes his time deciding on the jewelry, observing one piece, weighing another.  It’s all very cute.

Aidan has observed this, and he has decided he needs to help dress Mama too.  He brings me shoes.  It doesn’t matter if I already have a pair on.  He brings me a shoe.  He taps my foot.  He points to the shoe and waits.  When I finally put on the shoe, he claps and toddles to get the other shoe.  At least I can be thankful he isn’t following Sean’s fashion sense of two different shoes.

I’m not sure if I should be pleased with this whole new stage or worry about which helpful thing he will do next.

As the two eldest, curled up on the couch, watching DVDs, holding onto vomit bowls (No praying to the porcelain god here; that would be heathen and make life easier for their Mama.), waited for the misery to end, their baby brother was running amok around the house, babbling, climbing, stacking blocks, playing cars, trying to get his older brothers to wrestle.  Yup, that one got my immune system.  And that little fact did not go unnoticed.

Evan: Mommy, Aidan is a baby cockroach!

Obviously, my boy, you remember your father bitterly complimenting your mother’s immune system as he was curled up in bed, blowing his nose, downing whatever meds could help him.  Good memory.  Now lean over the bowl next time.  Over the bowl!  Christ, it’s like a scene out of The Exorcist.