Well, it may be a little hard to see in the picture (just click to enlarge), but N aerated the lawns. The ground was so compacted that the water wasn't really soaking down very far. Looking at the plugs, they were only wet maybe an inch down (if even that)... and we'd just watered. So anyways, the kids came down and wanted to know what Daddy was doing. I said it looked like he was putting dog poop all over the yard with the big loud poopin' machine. You can bet that got some funny reactions! I took M out to look at it. Then I told her if she could run through the yard around the tree and back without stepping on any poop that'd I'd give her a dollar. After a No way! Really?!? she actually did it! She giggled the whole time. But with all the poop her heels were kicking up, she did not get that dollar! After closer examination, she and L finally figured out that it was not actually poop, but they had a lot of fun acting like it was. They got some of the poop collection bags from the park by the yard and filled them up. It was pretty funny!

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As a mom, you are given this uncanny talent to read faces… even when you can’t see them. You know, like when you’re only looking at the back of your kid’s head, but you know if he’s smiling or if she’s sticking out her tongue. It’s got a lot to do with body language, and moms have the ability to interpret it pretty well.

Well, let’s just start right from the beginning of my morning… my series of unfortunate events, you might say.

N left the house for work this morning. It was a little after 5. I know this because as I was slumbering away in precious sleep, there was knocking at the front door— persistent knocking. He had locked himself out of the house but didn’t have everything he needed to take with him (evidently his house key!). I went downstairs and let him in. As I was getting back into bed, I noted the time on the clock: still time to rack in some more sleep minutes. It was all good. I hadn’t been in a deep sleep or anything, since T had just been up eating his breakfast not long before that. So really then, things actually seemed to start out okay. It definitely wasn’t one of those I-forgot-to-set-my-alarm mornings or even one of those I-set-my-alarm-but-forgot-to-turn-it-on mornings. I got up, had time to get dressed and to get my brain awake. (Though I do have a lot of sinus congestion right now, so I am a little noggin foggy!)

As we headed out the door to go to school (the kids were already outside, and I was on my way out with the baby, about to close the door), I realized I didn’t have my keys.

(I guess I should mention that maybe 15 seconds before I made this realization, I had said, “We need to go right now! We have four minutes to get in the car, get to school, and get M to class!”)

Any how, I could not find the keys anywhere. They weren’t in my bag; they weren’t in the basket; they just weren’t. I dragged all the kids back inside, and I scrambled around the house in a somewhat random search for the keys. I didn’t find them. I did find N’s set, and luckily also remembered to grab the spare house key, and off we went.

We headed down the street towards school only to be met by a closed road and work crews. Of all mornings for them to be repaving our route, this would be it, right? But as a clever and resourceful mother, I knew exactly what to do! There’s a church on a corner near the school, and its parking lot cuts through to the next street. I just pulled in the driveway right there before the barricade and orange cones, went through the parking lot and pulled out the driveway on the other side. I turned out into the street and headed down the smooth (newly asphalted!) road just as jolly as could be. Way out ahead of me, I could see Mr. Roley Poley in the middle of the street. I saw some orange cones, too. And I saw Mr. Road Construction Worker standing next to Mr. Roley Poley. He was waving big waves at me, but I don’t think he was saying hello. (I guess you could say that they probably should have put cones blocking the driveway exit.) He threw his arms up in the air and shook his head in great disgust. I couldn’t see his face, but I’m pretty sure I know what it looked like. (Remember, I’m a mom, and I know these things.) I couldn’t hear him, either, but I’m pretty sure I know what he was saying, too! (What are you doing out here, you crazy woman driver! Didn’t you see the cones and barricades?! What are you thinking?! GET OFF THE ROAD!!!) So, he’s waving at me to get off the street, but since turning around wouldn’t help (I’d just have to drive all the way back to the church) and turning into some house’s driveway wasn’t really an option, I kept driving and turned at the first cross-street. (We did some loopy loopies through the neighborhood and eventually made it to school. And M made it in to class before the late bell.)

I’m thinking the road crews are pretty peeved at me… I figured that was the case to begin with, but I'm thinking it even more so now. When we got home, L noticed the “icky tires.” It seems as if I have brought the top layer of the new road home with me.

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Well, sometimes things happen with your kids that you weren’t quite expecting to have to deal with. (Okay, I guess that’s pretty much most of the time!) I had a bit of a déjà vu experience today. The kids were up in their rooms for quiet time. I heard B’s door, so I looked up the stairs to see what he was doing. I thought he might be headed to the bathroom or something. Whatever he was doing, I wanted to intercept him before he disturbed any of the others (I was enjoying my peace and quiet time). When he heard me coming, he took off and ran into the room where S was napping and closed the door behind him. I ran up to get him because I didn’t want him waking her. I opened the door, and he did this shreiky squeal and turned his back to me to “hide” from me. I turned him around, but I already knew what I was going to see... the smell of Desitin was pretty strong in the air! I found him covered in the white mess—his face, his clothes, his hands. I also found a fingerprint trail through his bedroom and a pile of diaper wipes he used trying to clean up his mess. Luckily the wipes do clean it up pretty well… everything but the clothes. That’s a whole other story there. M did the same thing when she was little… of course she was only about 18 months old!

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Grab a mug of coffee and a donut... it's time for a newspaper break!
(Hopefully you can decipher these.)



Now that I've got my LaughterThoughts outlet, this Zits comic strip made me laugh. I think that I've thought this same thing many times. (Wait! I can't tell this story-- I might want to put it in my blog, and I don't want to "ruin" it!)

Then I got farther down the funnies page, and I ran into the Baby Blues strip. I really enjoy Baby Blues. There are probably only three of the strips I regularly read, and it is one of them. It made me smile, too. How true is this!?! Being a mom is the most wonderful gift. It is such a privilege to experience children and to watch them grow, but, wow, somedays it can definitely be rough!

Well, I got my bedroom carpet shampooed this morning. I had just gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed. M was at school, and L and B were downstairs watching Barney. T was asleep, and S was upstairs, so I had her come in and help me get ready so that she didn't bother the baby. I was blow drying my hair, and I look down at her and see that she has somehow reached the bottle of baby shampoo, has gotten it open, has squirted it all over her head, and is in the process of squirting it all over the bathroom floor. What is unfortunate about this is that our bathroom floor is carpeted. (Now, I have never been a fan of carpet in my bathroom, and this is just another reason I can add to that list of "why"!!!) I must admit, I don't really know the best way to get shampoo out of carpet... I put water on it and rubbed it with a towel, but with all the suds I was getting, I know that I wasn't effectively getting the soap out. In fact, I did this routine several times, but my soap problem didn't seem to get any better. Maybe more unfortunate than the fact that there is carpet in the bathroom is the fact that my carpeted bathroom now has a huge dirt magnet right in the doorway! I guess when it comes to cleaning the carpets and having them shampooed, you get what you pay for! I would not recommend a 2 year-old. They do cheap work, but the quality just isn't there! But, on the positive side, when it comes to S, she now has a clean head of hair. I picked her up and stuck her under the sink and rinsed out the shampoo. She wasn't too happy with that, but I guess she got what she paid for, too!

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Since the subject of toilet paper has been discussed quite a bit lately (for more on this, go here) it only seemed appropriate for me to introduce you to my new best friend. His name is Roll, and why I never realized just how useful he can be is beyond me. I didn’t meet Roll on my own; I have to credit my friend Debbie for introducing us. (Thanks, Deb!) I think of how many times I’ve thrown him into the waste basket over the years... but now I don’t ever throw him away—he’s all over the place! He keeps me company by keeping me from being completely tangled up in cords. He’s on the mixer, the waffle iron, the crock pot, the bread machine, the George Foreman, the coffee pot… and that’s just the kitchen! He’s helping me out all over the house. He’s even keeping all my loose cords tidy. Not to dog on her, but he’s a much better friend than Twisty. Twisty is a high-maintenance friend. When I’m hanging out with Twisty, I have to do most of the work. On the other hand, I just stuff Roll like he’s a turkey, and we’re all good to go! If you are in need of some cord organization, I would be glad to let Roll be your friend, too. There’s enough of him to go around, that’s for sure.

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Monkeying Around at the Monkey Exhibit:

Little T napped through the egg hunt--

S looking for eggs... and swiping from the other kids' baskets!--

After seeing the pictures, I told B he needed a haircut. He told me that he wanted to go to "Apple Car Key" to get his haircut at the fun place with the toys and videos--

L stopping to show her eggs (nestled on her new special towel, an old raggedy Mr. Tux prom freebee)--

Isn't M growing up? T does like his big sister to take care of him--

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D, our next door neighbor, found a quail egg on her front porch on Tuesday. She gave it to us. I have been babying it. It's in a basket filled with crumpled newspaper and paper towels. I've got a light on it to keep it warm. I rotate the egg a few times a day. The first night we got it, I told the kids all about the baby bird inside and how we were going to try and take care of the egg so maybe that baby bird would hatch. They were really excited, but so was I. I was daydreaming about my little quailing (I have no idea what a baby quail is called.) I cried over my quail egg the second night. I think it might've gotten too hot under the lamp. I'm just hoping I didn't cook my baby bird. But now I don't know that it's staying warm enough either, so I'm worried it might make it for that. I saw on the internet that the egg needs to stay at 100 deg F. I don't know how to measure the temperature. Obviously the house isn't that hot-- that's why there's a lamp shining on the egg. But since my egg doesn't have an ear, I don't know what temperature it's at! Even though I've resigned myself to the fact that I probably would have a baby quail hatching out of the egg, I'll keep the light shining and the egg rotating. I don't know what's going on inside the egg, but I would hate to think that I gave up and there was a chance for a baby. (Of course, I don't know what I'll do if a baby does hatch out!) Incubation time is about 16 days, so I guess I'll know then whether or not this was a successful little science project. I'll let you know the end result.

Speaking of eggs, as I was getting the kids in bed, M reminded me that I need to dig out the Easter baskets so that the Easter Bunny can come fill them up. Oh yeah, Easter baskets. I told her that I didn't know if E.B. knew where we lived. That didn't work. I told her I wasn't quite sure where the baskets were. She knew, and she let me know. I guess I'll have to dig into a little of Moma's Sanity Chocolate bars which are stashed in the freezer and put one in each kid's basket. I was really slacking on the basket goodies this year. When I did think of it, it was too far in advance I thought. So now here it is, Easter Eve, and the E.B. has no treats!

"No treats." That's what M and L let me know after the soccer game today. We had soccer practice yesterday afternoon. Our little 7-member team is getting smaller and smaller. One boy quit at the start of the spring season, so we were down to 6. Our coach pretty much quit because he's got other (seemingly more important than volunteering as a U6 soccer coach!) obligations. As such, his daughter hasn't made it to much-- I think she made it to one or two practices and one game. We're pretty much a team of 5 now. One of the boys was out of town for Easter-- down to 4. One of the boys just didn't show up. So we were down to 3 at practice yesterday. M, A, and J. J's dad took over as "coach" since Coach Tom handed over coaching responsibilities. They play 3 at a time during the games, so I told Coach Gerald it was good we'd have at least 3 for the game. He said I was right. Unfortunately Coach Gerald and J didn't show up for the game this morning. M and A did. The other team had all 7 players. They let us borrow one; G was a really good sport, and I think she had a lot of fun being a Tiger. M got to shine; she played the entire game, and she actually paid really good attention and played really well. N got to be the coach for the team. A's dad didn't volunteer. He didn't even watch the game. He just talked on his phone at the other end of the field. I think he was hoping for a forfeit by the Tigers. (No way!) It very very very very cold, though. About half-way through, I took B, S, and T back to the car. T was cozy in his car seat, but B and S were pretty miserable. I was feeling pretty miserable, too. L stayed around to watch the rest of the game. But there were no after-game snacks for the Tiger players, since one of the players who didn't show was in charge for this week. Yep, a big goose egg on the snacks. M didn't seem to mind too much, but I'm sure that it was disappointing for L. I think that might have been why she stayed for the rest of the game!

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The top 10 things that have made me smile today (and it’s still morning!)

1. As we’re walking out to the car to take M to school this morning, L hushes all of us: “Shhh! Everyone be quiet! Ostrich! There’s an ostrich over on our fence, and we don’t want to scare it away!” After some quick scientific reasoning, we came to the conclusion that it was, in fact, NOT an ostrich but actually just a run-of-the-mill city neighborhood bird.

2. This morning I had a conversation with L about how Daddy had bought me at Costco one time. Well, that is what I thought we were talking about; that’s what L told me. I told her that Daddy probably did say that since we definitely buy lots of things at Costco. We actually exchanged several sentences about the whole subject. I smiled and asked how much Daddy had spent on me and if he said whether or not he had gotten a good deal. L smiled and shook her head, “No, Moma. Not you. Daddy didn’t buy YOU at Costco; Daddy bought YOGURT.”

3. When I made my chocolate chip cookies the other day, I only baked a dozen or so of them, and I froze the rest as little cookie dough balls. Last night, I turned to N and said, “Hmmm… I think I could use a chocolate chip cookie right now.” (Obviously I waited to think this until after the kids were asleep in bed.) Then I proceeded to turn on the oven, pull out a cookie sheet, get 4 frozen cookie dough balls from the freezer, and put my cookies in the oven to bake. Overall time from first utterance of words to the fresh-out-of-the-oven, the-chocolate-chips-are-still-hot cookie bliss in my mouth: less than 10 minutes. I shared with N. (Then I praised myself for having self-control… but regretted that I hadn’t baked more!)

4. My “Fruit/Vegetable/Herb Garden in Progress.” I am awaiting sprouts any time now from my seeds in the kitchen window… I have watermelon, cantaloupe, pumpkin, and bell peppers up there. Still in pots but soon to go into the ground, I have tomatoes, walla walla onions, basil, rosemary, cilantro, strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries.

5. When I went in the backyard earlier to check on the kids, I saw L and B squatted over the twisty bike. The bike was flipped upside-down and they were busy at work doing something to the bottom of it. As they were looking a little sheepish, I asked what they were doing. L was working at unscrewing the screws and said they were taking off “this thing on the back.” I proceeded to tell them “absolutely not,” and then I explained to them that there was a reason for that “thing” to be there. I talked about safety features and how it would help keep them from flipping over backwards, et cetera, et cetera… As I’m saying all of this I walk over to where they are so that I can physically stop this dangerous activity. L was holding a screwdriver. Oh, did I say screwdriver? I meant to say “rock.”

6. S was eating a cheddar cheese stick for a snack. She chewed it up, swallowed it, coughed, and spit it back up… all over Molly’s head, collar, ears. (Molly is the dog we’re babysitting. Molly’s parents are in China.) Timing, of course, was inconvenient, as I was holding T in one arm as he nursed and using the other arm to do some other important activity like sweep or something. I understand that you don’t see where my laughter was in all of this… it’s not a funny thing that I had to clean up cheese globs out of dog hair. But B’s comments did make me laugh. “Moma, why did S put crumbs on Molly? Look, Mom, it’s yellow. Eggs have yellow in them. Bananas are yellow, too. Why does Molly have yellow on her head?" At this point, you need to recall the banabadder conversation. Read here for the banabadder story. Thus, smiles.

7. I just got an email from Costco. I have all these pictures saved on our computer. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures from the digital camera. I was just telling N the other day that the only unfortunate part of a digital camera is that I don’t have prints of all my great pictures since I just save them on the computer. (On the plus side, I also don’t have prints of all the not-so-great pictures.) Well yesterday afternoon I went through all the files of pictures and uploaded a little over 200 of them to the Costco photo center. I got 4x6 prints of all them, some doubles, a few 5x7s. It cost me $35. I thought that was good for so many prints. But my smile comes from this: They are being mailed to me, and S&H is free! So now I don’t have to make a special trip to Kennewick to pick up my pictures. (Not like I won’t be there anyways, but still!) And my bigger smile comes from this: I ordered them yesterday afternoon and my email I just got says that they’ve already been shipped! How is that for service?

8. T is sleeping in his swing right now. But just a few minutes ago I was holding him. I had just changed his diaper. L was telling me that I didn’t always HAVE to change it when it just had wet wets in it. I said not always, but that if there’s too much wet in it, the diaper won’t be able to soak it up if he wets more or if he poops. Okay, moving on now. Time elapsed from diaper change to story incident… five minutes max. I’m holding T across my lap and one arm, as I am typing with the other hand. I hear him poop, and when I know he’s all done, I get up to go change him. I see a little orange coming through the back of his onesie, so I know I’d better hurry, since it’s starting to leak. Well, it wasn’t just starting to leak; it was already a total leaker. To understand just how leaky, recall that “new baby” poop is quite soupy… and yellowy orangey. Unfortunately it wasn’t just all over his clothes, but it was also all over mine. I look like I dropped a mustard hot dog in my lap. I can smile at this because T manages to get my clothes dirty one way or another. It’s not a new thing. At church during a diaper change (granted I was changing him while holding him in my lap) he peed and soaked the crotch of my pants. I’m pretty positive it looked like I was the one who had peed!

9. Like my good friend Pinky, I, too, have been trying to revive my home’s Flylady. Check out Pinky here. Now flies tend to slow down and disappear in the winter (well, the Flylady isn’t supposed to, but just go along with my story), but we’ve noticed something very strange the last two winters here in Washington. It doesn’t matter if it has been freezing weather for weeks with high temps in the teens. There will still be the occasional fly buzzing around the house. Where they’ve been living is beyond me. But hear a bzzzz-bzzzzz and look, and you will find a fly, albeit a slow, fat, and old fly. I think that winter brings about the same effects with my inner Flylady. The cold weather comes, and I get slower and fatter (well, maybe pregnanter is a better description). Anyways, I have been trying to get my Flylady all warmed up and active again, keeping a somewhat tidy, somewhat clutter-free house. She’s been buzzing around here for a couple weeks (motivated by the arrival of warmer weather… and, maybe moreso, the arrival of company!!). But I think Pinky is right, I need to take advantage of my Flylady’s web presence and utilize it! But back to my reasons for smiling, doesn’t a clean house make you feel good, too?

10. It’s Wednesday. That means M and L will be at Awana tonight. That also means it’s date night. Though we’ll still have three kids with us, it still feels like a date. And going on a date is definitely something to smile about.

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Well, I think we all know how we often see ourselves in our kids… sometimes it’s the good stuff, sometimes the not-so-good. Kids are smart and observant and pick up on even the littlest things so much more than we realize… and then we see something or hear something that we recognize as our own—after that it becomes very obvious just how often we do it or say it! I can remember one time a few years ago when I was trying to pull out of a parking lot. My oldest daughter was three then. Let’s just say that the traffic was not being very cooperative! I was close to an intersection, so by the time the cars driving towards me had cleared, the ones stopped at the light were backed up and blocking me. After sitting through a couple light changes, I wondered why the cars stopping right in front of me at the driveway weren’t leaving me some courtesy pull-out space. To me, that just seemed like a pretty obvious thing to do! Seemingly on the same brain wave as her moma, from the backseat, M chirps up, “Well, stink. Stinkin’ truck, move out of our way!” It caught me off guard to hear my little girl say that. (It also made me laugh a little, too!) After she said it, I became conscious of just how often those little words left my lips. I’m just grateful that “stink” and “stinkin’” were the extent of my I’m-irked vocabulary.

In the kitchen, I have my jar of Sanity Mints. They’re pretty much reserved for me. The kids know them as “Moma Mints.” They know that they’re mine, even though they don’t really see me eat them that much. I usually try to be discreet about it—you know, the turn-the-back-and-sneak-it-into-the-mouth thing. Sometimes a mom just needs a little candy to get through the day. I guess what I didn’t realize was just OFTEN I needed it! I noticed my jar emptying out more quickly than I would have expected. I knew I was eating a good number of mints, but, wow, I was really a mint piggy! My littlest girl just turned 2. She’s quiet with big eyes and a mischievous smile; she’s a feisty one… and she’s sly and stealthy! Just recently, I walked around the corner and headed into our kitchen. S was busy at her sly, stealthy work, so I stopped to observe her for a while. She would get a barstool, silently slide it over to the counter, climb up, pull out the jar of mints, get one out, push the jar back into place, hop off the stool, slide it back to its spot, and then unwrap and eat her mint. Then as soon as the mint was in her mouth and the wrapper in the trash, she started the whole process over again. She did all this very quietly and very efficiently. I watched her do the routine a couple times before stopping her. After all, she was eating all of my sanity mints! I guess she’s seen me enough that she knows it must be something good. And, here I thought that I was the one being sly and stealthy when I was eating my mints!!

I guess there’s a good reason that imitating is “to ape.” Okay, technically speaking, monkeys aren’t apes, but my little monkeys have aping down pat!

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THE FIVE LITTLE MONKEYS IN MY ZOO

Five little monkey living in a zoo. #1 turned six and lost her tooth.

Moma called to Father, and Father said, "My big girl has lost her tooth!"

Five little monkeys living in a zoo. #2 turned five and said, "Woo hoo!"

Moma called to Father, and Father said, "My girl is getting bigger. Oh, Boo Hoo!"

Five little monkeys living in a zoo. #s 3 and 4 were best little buddies.

Moma called to Father, and Father said, "You can play in the rocks, but don't get muddy!"

Five little monkeys living in a zoo. The little one smiled, and started to coo.

Moma called to Father, and Father said, "Where's my baby boy? Peek-a-Boo!"

THE FIVE LITTLE MONKEYS IN MY ZOO.

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Please Stand By

It’s spring break this week, so M isn’t in school. We were all having one of “those” mornings… one of those where all of the kids seem a bit out-of-whack and I feel a little like Nicholas Cage in The Family Man… kinda like this mothering this is new, and I’m not quite sure what is going on. I know a lot of it probably has to do with us being out of our normal routine. That seems to have a big effect on the kids (and on me, as well!). Everyone seems a little tired, fussy, edgy, and overly sensitive. During one of those I-might-possibly-be-bald-after-I-yank-all-of-my-hair-out moments, I decided it was a good time to see what was on PBS. I figured the kids needed a little distraction from each other. There was a lot of excitement as they all got on the couch to watch Barney. It had been going for a few minutes by the time we turned it on, but they didn’t mind—they were quite happy and were singing the silly songs. I mentally sighed an “ahhhh” of relief, sat down at the computer, and opened up my email… a good time to catch up on all that, you know. Well, no sooner had I gotten settled into my chair and logged onto the internet than the kids start shrieking and whining. “Mo-ommm!” The show was off, the screen was blank… Barney had gone bye-bye. Let’s just say it was unfortunate timing for technical difficulties. But I did manage to get a laugh out of it. The screen was blank, but the voice eventually came on. The voice that says, “We’re sorry. We are experiencing satellite transmission problems. Please stand by… blah, blah, blah.” Soon L and B are both up and standing at full attention on either side of the t.v. M is still sitting comfortably on the couch encouraging L and B saying, “Yeah, you guys stand there so it’ll come back on for us!” Yes, I guess the voice on the t.v. did say to PLEASE STAND BY. Barney eventually came back on, but only in time for them to watch the closing “I love you” song. They were quite proud of how they had gotten the show back on with their good standing-by (“Moma, Moma! It said to stand by, and we did—right there!”) and didn’t really seem to notice that they had missed the ten minutes in the middle.

After lunch, I sent M upstairs to put a little bit of laundry away in the dressers. She came back down lugging a laundry hamper of all the kids’ dirty clothes. I hadn’t really planned on doing theirs today since I was working on other laundry. But I figured that since it was downstairs, it would be ready to do tomorrow morning. A little while later I came through the kitchen and heard S saying, “Wheee! Wheee!” Let’s just say she was “sorting” the dirty clothes for me. She was pulling each piece out, one by one, and tossing it here and there in the laundry room. So I might be spending the afternoon working on all that laundry after all.

M has been running around as a fairy princess in her ballerina outfit and dress-up tiara. She even made a wand out of paper and colored it like a rainbow. She cut out a star and taped it to the top. I told her I thought maybe she could “magic” those dirty clothes away. I don’t guess it worked, though, because the pile of laundry is still on the floor.

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