All I Want For Chrithmath

Yesterday as I was on my way out of the office for lunch, the receptionist yelled after me “Hey Lisa, your son is on 14.”

I wasn’t really sure why he would be calling me, because I forgot that it was a holiday and thought he should be in school.  I got a little panicked wondering why he’d be calling me from school, and hurried back in.  Before I picked up the pone, the receptionist informed me that he sounded pretty excited. “I answered and he goes ‘MOM! GUESS WHAT?!’ and I was like ‘who is this?’ and he goes ‘Uh its your son, CADEN?!’  He sounds pretty excited to talk to you.”  I just laughed as I picked up the phone to say hello.

CJ:  Mom?  Hey guess what?!
Me:  What babe?
CJ:  My TOOTH CAME OUT TODAY!!
Me:  Oh wow, alright dude!
CJ:  Do you know what was keeping my tooth hanging on, mom?  Just a little piece of my gum.  And then it came right off!
Me:  Yep, I told you it would be any time now.
CJ:  You know what this means mom?
Me:  That the—
CJ:  It means the TOOTH FAIRY IS GONNA COME!!!!!
Me:  Yep, that’s right! You just have to remember to put your tooth under your pillow.
CJ:  Oh, I will mom!  This is gonna be great!

We said our “I love you’s” and our “see you laters” and as I was hanging up the phone, and for the rest of the day, all I heard in my head was...

All I want for Chrithmath is my two front teeth… my two front teeth… 



One down, one to go — and then it’s on!

Chicken Boobs

Mom, can I save my boob for later?  Cuz it's a really big boob!"

Trysten asking to save his piece of chicken for later.

Poof

And like that... he was five.  *sigh*  Only one more week.

Someone, anyone, I need a time machine. Stat!

Truth

Each of my boys had complications with their births requiring slightly extended stays for both them and me. Caden was upside down with the cord around his neck (breach & born blue), and Trysten was pushing his way into this world so hard through mommy’s half-dilated cervix, his little heart rate dropped and they had to take him via emergency c-section before he killed himself trying to tear through me. It’s almost comical the way each of their births are such a symbolic representation of their individual personalities. Caden, the over dramatic, extremely sensitive, emotional “blue” one, and Trysten, the stubborn, determined, emotionally explosive independent little terrorist.

For each of them, we stayed for five days and it really wasn’t so bad. The birthing center of our local hospital is one of the best around. I had a huge room all to myself, a jacuzzi tub, TV, a day bed/couch for visitors, and, once the baby was out of ICU, they got to stay in the room with the family/parents as opposed to a large baby viewing room with a bunch of other newborns. Even the food wasn’t so bad.

However, the one thing I remember absolutely hating was the crappy hospital gowns. There were two options on gowns: the ass-bearing standard, or the breast-feeding-friendly boob-bearer, and I hated them both equally.

So, my grandma, being as awesome and intuitive as she is, went and got me three long pastel nightgowns covered in flowers that unbuttoned from the neck to below the boobs — aka granny gowns — complete with matching zip-up robes. And I will tell you, I LOVED my granny gowns! They completely covered my ass, and because of the button front, I could whip out a boob when needed and put it away discreetly when not — all without worrying something would fall out and give random family members a sneak peek of my naughty bits if I moved wrong.

And, for the truth part of this whole story: It’s been almost five years since I’ve been in a hospital and those gowns are still my favorite pajama of choice.

But hey, if nothing else, at least I can say they work great as a backup to birth control, right?

Frozen

There are times, like tonight, that I am awakened by my worst and most prevalent fear that there is someone lurking in the shadows of my room, waiting and watching as I sleep. I have dreams of this intruder that are so lucid that when I wake, they render me crippled to the point that I can not move. And I feel that it’s at this time that the real nightmare begins. My body lies still, writhed with tension as I struggle to catch my breath against the crushing weight of my own fear; my mind begins to take over and play cruel tricks, running through an endless que of possible scenarios as I try to anticipate what’s to come. And all the while I am frozen — incapable of even bringing myself to move to check on the boys as they sleep.

Every time I have to fight to convince myself it isn’t real, that no one is there, and the boys are fine. Finally, after the irrational thoughts pass and I talk myself down, I’m able to relax and fall asleep again. But not without the knowledge that when I wake, my body will be sore from the tension and I will be exhausted.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

My Kind Of Monsters

November 8, 2010

realmacgruber asked: Exactly what type of "monsters" do you have? Are they more of an "Eddie Munster", cute-Dracula-type, a PIXAR "Mike Wazowski" cartoonish monster-type, or are they full-blown zombies?

Do you need protection? Were they born in monster form or did they have their monsterdom thrust upon them, like being bitten by a werewolf or the walking undead?

Should I worry about your safety?

It depends on the day, really.  Their moods swing worse than mine sometimes.  Most of the time, they’re totally a Monsters-Inc/Kids-Say-The-Darnedest-Things combo.  Sometimes though, I wonder if I’m really just a modern-day Rosemary.  I find I usually have those thoughts when they’re tired, hungry, or grounded from video games — you know, basic needs and all that.

As far as zombies, I think sometimes they wish they were zombies.  However, we’re not really talking zombies a la Night of the Living Dead or Zombieland.  They run around with make-shift traffic cones and orange sand buckets on their heads defending their territories with imaginary plants that wield different offensive/defensive capabilities.  Yes, my little zombies prefer to eat plants most of the time.  Which is perfectly fine by me, actually.  I don’t think I’m ready for them to be too terribly interested in the logistics of death and flesh consumption.

My mom wrote a little poem (which I can’t seem to find now) about her grandmonsters and illustrated it with a pic she found and edited to fit.  I think, given both of our limited knowledge and expertise with photo editing software, its a pretty perfect graphic representation of the two of them.



And as far as safety goes, well, lets just say we haven’t seen MY monster graphic representation yet. *wink*

Why, Oh Why? You Broke Mama's Heart With Your Little Lie

My son lied to me tonight.  I’m so disappointed and so heartbroken.  I realize that all kids lie at some point or another, and I’m used to the little “instant reaction” kind of lies they tell to keep out of trouble where you ask them something, they answer, you know they’re lying and you say “you better not be lying, this is your only chance to tell the truth” and they immediately fess up.  I expect that.  But this, tonight, was different.  I think the hardest part about it is the length he went to to lie to me, and how many times I can think of before now that it has actually worked.

He wanted to get on the computer tonight and do his spelling words.  I told him once he finished the rest of his homework and after his shower, he could.  I got it all set up for him so that he could just jump on and play his spelling game while I was reading stories and putting his little brother to bed.  He planned on taking the quickest shower of his life, and to do so, was apparently thinking he could cut a few steps.  Everything would have went over smoothly and he would have been out of the shower in record time, but his plan hit a little snag.  Since we are out of the “tearless” shampoo, the boys have been using mine for the last couple of nights, which means I have to assist with the washing and rinsing process to keep it from getting in their eyes.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with not washing his hair, because I’d know something was up when he didn’t ask for help, so he called for me to come help him and told me that was the only thing he had left to do.  So of course, I went in there thinking it would be a quick wash and rinse and Trysten and I could get back to our story.  But while I was in there, I decided to ask if he’d washed the rest of his body with soap?  And did he wash his wee-wee really good?

CJ:  Yep mom, I used the soap and washed.
Me: (noticing there is no soap in the tub because it is on the sink) Oh really?  What soap?  I don’t see any anywhere?
CJ:  (pointing to the DRY bar of soap on the sink) Oh, the soap over there on the sink.  I did it really fast.
Me:  Huh.  Well that’s funny because that bar of soap is dry.  And you’ve still got some dirt on your arm.  Are you sure you washed with soap?  Because if you’re lying to me right now, you’re not playing the word game.  You have one last shot to redeem yourself and tell the truth.

Now, typically this is where he will tell me the truth and I will cut him a little slack.  But not tonight.  Tonight went down totally different.

CJ:  I really did mom.  I promise.  I really, really did.
Me:  Caden, I KNOW you didn’t and I KNOW you’re lying to me right now.
CJ: (starting to cry REAL TEARS, as if I’ve just hurt his feelings beyond comprehension by accusing him of such a thing and HOW DARE I) I swear mom!  I really did!  Why won’t you believe me?!
Me:  Caden!  Seriously dude!  I KNOW that you didn’t.  The soap on the sink is dry, so how could you have washed yourself with soap?
CJ:  (tears running down his face and snot dripping from his nose as he cries in disbelief that I don’t believe him)  I did mom! I washed my whole body with soap like I said.  I just did it fast.  It’s not fair!  I promise that I did.  Can’t you just believe me?! I really, really did!

At this point I’m somewhat second guessing myself, thinking maybe he really did wash himself with a different bar of soap that I’m just not seeing.  My kid wouldn’t lie to me like this, right?  I mean, if he’s crying like this and putting up this much of a fight, he has to be telling the truth, right?  I decide to give him one last test.

Me:  OK, fine.  You know what, I’m going to smell your wee wee then.  And that will tell me if you’re lying to me or telling me the truth whether you like it or not, so you better tell me.

Like clockwork he instantly stopped crying, looked at me with huge eyes, and just stared at me blankly.  I could see the wheels turning as he was asking himself is she crazy enough to really do that?  What if she is?  Uh oh.

CJ: (sighing heavily in defeat, then looking at the ground shamefully) OK I didn’t really.
Me:  I know you didn’t, Caden.  Now get out of the shower.  You’re done.  No computer, no stories, no anything.  I’m so disappointed in you right now.  All those times I KNEW you were lying, but I believed you because you cried and swore you were telling the truth.  I don’t even know what to say to you right now.  Just get out and get your pajamas on while I finish reading to your brother.  Then brush your teeth and get ready for bed and I’ll be out in a minute.
CJ: (still looking at the floor in shame and sounding slightly like Eeyore) Oh-kay.

I feel like I’ve been completely duped by the kid.  It would be one thing if this was the first time he’d ever manipulated, taken advantage of, and lied to me like this.  But it isn’t.  Saturday night he did the same thing around bed time.  He was on the couch relaxing with his dad while he was here visiting for the weekend, wide awake and playing.  Five minutes before it was time for bed, I gave both boys the five minute warning.  At this point, I watched him close his eyes and pretend for the next five minutes he was asleep.  After the five was up, I told them both it was bed time.  He laid there and pretended to be asleep.  Not a huge deal, except for when he finally got up he said “what? I was asleep!”  To which his dad and I both replied, “Caden, we know you weren’t.”  And he did the same crying act then.  “But I really was!  I did fall asleep!  I promise!  I really did for a few minutes.  I swear I did.  Why won’t you just believe me?  I promise I did mom.”  So I thought, okay, maybe he was just really tired and drifted for a few minutes.  I let it go, and said “OK then you’re obviously super tired and you need to go to bed anyway.  Let’s stop arguing about it, because it’s clear you need to get to sleep as soon as possible.” And that was that.

But tonight, again, the same thing - and obviously an outright lie.

I’m so furious and so disappointed - for tonight, for Saturday night, and for all the other times he may have used this tactic knowing I would give him the benefit of the doubt, and that I actually did.  I want to yell and shake him and get SO mad and ask him WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING?!  WHY ARE YOU LYING TO ME?! And then there’s the guilt.  What did I do wrong?  Is he scared to tell me the truth?  Am I creating an environment that he feels he can’t be honest with me?  What do I do to fix this?  I don’t want my kids to be scared to talk to me.  But this wasn’t like he did something wrong and he was scared to tell me about it for fear he’d get in trouble.  This was a completely selfish, manipulative tactic to get what he wanted.  I’m so so hurt right now.


Am I wrong in feeling this way?  Am I overreacting?  I’m not sure at all how to handle this.  How DO I fix it?  How do I punish him so that he knows I mean business when I say NO LIES!  I told him he’s grounded all weekend - he isn’t going to grandma’s or anywhere else for that matter, no video games, no computer, no cartoons, AND he will spend his free time by writing “I will not lie” 100 times before the weekend is over.  I honestly even feel like that isn’t enough to stress how important it is that he not lie to me.  We are the most important people we have.  Him, me, and his brother - that is our family.  It’s the three of us whether he likes it or not.  And we DO NOT LIE to each other.  Period.  End of story.

I’m supposed to defend my son through anything and believe that he would never lie to me.  So what do I do when I know he is capable, and even worse, he has?

Just In Time

Caden’s two front teeth are super loose and about ready to come out.

Christmas music this year just got that much more AWESOME!!!

Princess Who?

Last night after dinner the boys wanted some of their Halloween candy for dessert.  The deal is, as long as they eat all of their dinner, then they can have a piece of candy.  Trysten’s choice last night was a mini box of purple Nerds.

Ever the efficient one, I sat him down at the dinner table with his treat to keep him occupied so that I would be free to head to the bathroom to assist Caden in getting all set up for bath time.  I should have known better than to leave a four-year-old alone with candy, because on my way out of the bathroom, I noticed a creepy dwarf-like figure hanging out in my room with the lights out.  And low and behold, no Trysten at the table.

Obviously something was up, because the kid only goes in my room if he’s A) wanting to wrestle on the bed, B) looking for me (which he clearly was not), or C) up to no good.  My mommy instinct was screaming C.

Me:  Hey, what are you doing in my room?
TJ: (looking surprised and hiding something behind his back) Oh nothing, mommy.  Just… hanging out.
Me:  Uh huh, right.  You have three seconds to tell me what you’re doing in here.  Three… two…
TJ:  (holding up one of his small purple Nerds) OK, I was just trying to hide this under your bed! 
Me:  Um, why would you want to hide your candy under my bed?  You know that food and candy stays in the kitchen, dude.
TJ:  Well I already put a pea under there a few days ago.  So now I was trying to put this—

Wait, what?  Did he just say he put a pea under my bed?  Where the hell did he get peas?  I HATE peas!  The only food I’ve made in the last week with any form of peas in it was a couple of days ago.  So if what he just said held any truth at all, that meant I have had a little pea rotting under my bed for the last couple of days.  At this point my head is spinning.  Remember that post the other night about bed-bug paranoia?  If so, you can probably guess that this is right about when the big neon sign in my mind lit up with the words “WELCOME TO HELL.”

Me:  You put a PEA under my bed?  Are you kidding right now or are you serious?
TJ:  (grinning from ear to ear and stating rather proudly) Yeah, I put it under there the other night mom.
Me:  (trying keep the Hulk-like Crazy Mom from rearing her ugly head)  Show me.
TJ:  (prancing over to the side of my bed, still with the grin)  I think right here, mommy.  Right in there.

He pointed to a spot between the mattress and box spring, so I lifted the mattress and pushed it over.  And there it was - a lonely, dried, shriveled, green little pea that he had somehow wedged between the mattress and box spring and left for God only knows why.  Upon seeing this little pea, I only recall two things crossing my mind: OMG thank you there are no bed bugs! and WHY THE F—- is there a pea under my mattress?!

Me:  (still trying desperately to keep my cool) Trysten, what on EARTH would possess you to put a pea under my mattress?  Since when do you put FOOD under mommy’s mattress?  What the heck, dude?

He looked up at me with his little pouty face and puppy-dog eyes and said quietly “Well mommy, I just wanted to see if you were a princess.”  Then bashfully looked down at the floor before flashing me the eyes again.

And then it clicked.  The Princess and the Pea. Right now your heart is probably breaking while you shame me silently in your mind, right?  How do I know?  Because that is exactly what was happening to me.
So, being completely dumbfounded and not knowing what to say, I just stared at him blankly while I tried to come up with something to possibly redeem myself.  Just then I watched as a small smile started working its way across his lips.  I laughed at him and said “you’re so silly!  you little goof!” and he laughed  back at me.  “OK, come on.  Let’s go finish your candy.  And no more putting food under mommy’s mattress, OK?” I said as I took his hand and we headed out the door.  “OK, mom,” he said back.

Talk about feeling like a real jerk, though.  The poor kid just wanted to reassure himself that mommy really IS a beautiful princess, and all I did was secure myself the title of Wicked Witch.

Inner Self:  Way to go, mommy.  Halloween was over two days ago, so how about you put the attitude away with the costume, mmmkay?
Me:  Deal.

Halloween Love

OK, I know I’m a little late on the Halloween Wagon.  And I know I tend to bombard you with posts one day, and then not post at all the next (I really need to learn to use the que, or at least learn how not get so excited about my posts that I can wait to share with you). But, it does get pretty busy around here being a single mama to two little terrorists.  (OK, who am I kidding?  Fable III came out and I spent the better part of my free time this weekend getting some serious game on.  I’m sorry.  I still love you tumblies - I just kind of love Fable III more right now. But trust me, just like BSB, it’s only a phase).

HOWEVER because of my lack of posting over the weekend, I am treating you with an extra post tonight with all of the Halloween greatness I’m sure you’ve been dying to see!!  What makes it so special you might ask?  Well, two magical things, friends - Darth Vader & Zombies.

Wait for it… Wait for it…

BOOM!  This is just one reason why having boys is AWESOME.



And I just decided to throw these in for good measure, cuz that’s how I roll.  And they are not oranges, they are pumpkins, damn it.  Pumpkins dressed up as oranges for Halloween.  Umm…yeah.  That’s it.

(Delicious icing care of TheSahmmy - thank you, it really is THE BEST EVER!)

Goodnight, Sleep Tight, Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite

Ever since I started watching Hoarders, that saying has taken on a whole new meaning. Not because I’m a hoarder, but because those bed bugs are some serious shit. I always kind of thought they were just made up, like the “you owe me a coke” part of “pinch poke.” I never actually expected a coke. So this whole bed-bugs-are-real-and-really-bite thing kind of makes me feel a little paranoid. Now when I say “goodnight, sleep tight” and the boys reply “don’t let the bed bugs bite,” I kind of feel like washing all the bedding & throwing random things away. Just in case.

He Was A Confused Child

"Cheese!!  Like my new helmet mom?"

Um, Trysten, we need to talk.

He Likes To Move It Move It

My boys are best friends for life.  There isn’t much that if one of them is into, the other isn’t.  They’re like little twinsies, joined at the hip, partners in virtually everything.  The little one even looks up to his older brother (who is only a little over a year older) and wants to be a part of everything he does.  He’s almost lost without his older brother when CJ leaves for school, and sits and mopes around waiting like a little puppy whose owner is away at work all day.

However, the one big difference between them already has to be their taste in music.  Caden loves almost anything pop, and I’ll catch him singing Lady Gaga, Linkin Park, Big Time Rush, Chris Brown, etc.  He likes anything with a fast pace and a beat he can dance to.  One of these days, I’ll have to show you his awesome break dancing moves (which, now that I think of it, are strangely similar to his Kung-Fu moves).

But the little one is completely different.  He surprises me every time I turn the iPod on with his random requests for songs he’s heard once, or ones that I’ll skip through thinking he won’t like them (because I know his brother doesn’t).  Having heard just a few opening lines from a new song, they will either both cry “change it, change it!”  Or, more often than not, Caden will be in the back saying “Mom, this song sucks.  Will you please change it?” (he is totally anti-change and if he had it his way, we’d listen to Bieber and Big Time Rush all day every day - oh, and the song by Linkin Park from the movie Transfomers which he knows every word to) but Trysten argues, “no leave it!”  The way he is building his own musical taste makes me proud, especially because what he picks is not-so-mainstream (at least, not anymore), and the fact that I love jammin’ to the tunes he picks helps, too.  If I had to pick songs for a playlist that just he and I could sit and jam to,  I’m sure it would look something like this:

• Paradise City - Guns ‘N’ Roses
• Renegades of Funk - RATM (it only took once for him to hear it and now he asks for it almost every time we get in the car)
• White Wedding - Billy Idol (he heard this song one time in the car, then went into my grandma’s house and asked her to play the “Hey Little Sister” song.  She had to call me and ask what he was talking about.  They then spent the next hour watching Billy Idol vids on youtube.  He’s a fan for life now.)
• My Best Friend’s Girl - The Cars (again, only took one time.  He sings the chorus like “she’s my best best girl” and tells me it’s about me… awwww!)
• Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
• Rock & Roll, Hoochie Koo - Rick Derringer (heard the first half of this song and got mad when I changed it at Caden’s request)
• Let’s Stay Together - Al Green (another one he got mad about when Caden asked to change it)
• New Divide - Linkin Park
• Don’t Touch Me - Brak (Cartoon Network, Cartoon Planet/Spaceghost)
• I Like To Move It - Hans Zimmer (Madagascar 2 Soundtrack)
• Rock That Body - Black Eyed Peas
• Crazy Frog - Axel F
• Sexy Chick - Akon
• Alejandro - Lady GaGa
• The Look - Roxette (don’t hate, you know you love it too)
  
• Heartbreaker - Pat Benatar
• Otherside - RHCP
• Heads Will Roll - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
• Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now) - C&C Music Factory
• Uprising - Muse

So there you have it.  My rockin’ little four year old.  Obviously there are tunes that EVERY little kid wants on their play list (that Crazy Frog is musical crack for kids), but some of them just surprise the hell out of me.  His favorites are mostly songs he’s heard once, rather than the ones he hears over and over again on the radio or in the car.  I just love it.  I love that he loves the music - my music.  Makes my heart happy.

Oh, and for anyone who thinks I should still be shoving strictly Kids Bop, Disney Sing Along Songs, and nursery rhymes down my kids’ throats, and not letting them listen to that kind of music, all I have to say is this:

Cram it up your cramhole, Lafleur.

Pasta Police

TJ:  MOM! Where is the pasta you said we were gonna have?!?!

CJ:  Yeah mom! You said we were gonna have pasta with our pork chops!!!

Me:  Oh crud. I'm sorry guys. I forgot to make it tonight. I'll make it tomorrow night, k? I promise.

TJ:  Mom, you better, or ELSE.

Me:  Or else what silly?

TJ:  Or else when we grow up, we're gonna move somewhere really far, FAR away from you.

CJ:  Yeah, like Texas.

TJ:  Yeah mom, if you don't make us pasta tomorrow, we're moving to TEXAS.

Me:  Alright, alright. Jeez you guys. I said I would make the pasta already, what more do you want from me?

TJ:  Can we have a sucker?

Me:  Um, No. Eat your dinner.

CJ:  Texas here we come.

First Halloween

Our first Halloween with all three of us together.  The boys were “Dinosaur Hunters” and I tugged them around in their 4-Wheel Drive Camo Wagon (that wagon is a beast, by the way - its like the Gravedigger of Radio Flyers).

Sleeping Beauties

Tadpole's Promise

The other night my son brought home a library book called Tadpole's Promise by Jeanne Willis.
I was kind of excited to read this story at first, thinking it was about a romantic young love, portraying how even those that are the most different can find love in unusual circumstances.  A love that will blossom if given enough time and faith, etc.  Even though I give off somewhat of a cynical vibe at times, I really am a total optimist at heart, and a complete sucker for romance.  So, you can imagine my disappointment when that is not at all how this story ends (story transcribed in italics below for anyone that hasn't read it and may be intrigued).

I'm not really sure how to feel about this story, or, in particular, the ending. And to make matters worse, it is quickly becoming one of CJ's favorite stories. Part of me thinks "well, it's pretty realistic, right?" and another part of me can't let go of what a disappointment it is.  I mean, I can understand reading a book as an adult full of reality and not so happy endings.  I totally get that.  But in a kids book?  Aren't they supposed to be full of happy endings and messages of hope in all circumstances in an effort to preserve their innocence and the vast amount of possibilities, hopes, and dreams still contained within their hearts and minds?  Aren't we supposed to still be sending the message 'anything is possible if you put your heart and mind to it' at this stage? 

I don't know.  I'm lost on this one.  Maybe I'm not really interpreting the metaphor correctly?  I thought about it from the standpoint of a woman, or anyone really, in a relationship that has been lied to and/or abused.  The woman being the caterpillar, and the man being the tadpole.  They start out young, full of hope and promise.  But inevitably, he changes in ways that may or may not be beyond his control.  There is always the promise that things will be better, things will be different, or things will go back to the way they were.  But more often than not, it never turns out that way.  The one that has been betrayed goes away, blossoms to become a beautiful butterfly, but still can't seem to let go of the relationship and the hope that it can be what she dreams it to be.  So she goes back, and is consumed by the relationship to the point where she no longer even exists as what she once was or as the butterfly she became - and the one in the relationship doing so much damage remains completely oblivious to their destruction and wonders where it all went wrong and where the girl he fell in love with went.

 It's the only explanation that seems understandable, or even relateable to me (can you tell I have some issues), but I still don't understand the ever daunting question:  Why a kid's book?  As in, let's take away hope, replace it with the harsh realities of the world in an effort to protect against broken hearts?  What is the point of having a heart if it's too hard to break anyway? Seems to be kind of a paradox to the age old saying "Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

Reading too far into it?  Looney tunes?  I won't blame you if you say yes.  Just curious as to what others have to say about it, and looking for a little insight other than my own.

(It's a fairly short story, so if you are intrigued, the story follows below).

"Where the willow meets the water, a tadpole met a caterpillar. They gazed into each other's tiny eyes... and fell in love. She was his beautiful rainbow, and he was her shiny black pearl. 
'I love everything about you,' said the tadpole.
'I love everything about you,' said the caterpillar. 'Promise you'll never change.'
'I promise,' he said.
But as sure as the weather changes, the tadpole could not keep his promise.  Next time they met, he had grown two legs.
'You've broken your promise,' said the caterpillar.
'Forgive me,' begged the tadpole.  'I couldn't help it.  I don't want these legs... All I want is my beautiful rainbow.'
'All I want is my shiny black pearl.  Promise me you'll never change,' said the caterpillar.
'I promise,' he said.
But sure as the seasons change, the next time they met, he had grown arms.
'That's twice you've broken your promise,' cried the caterpillar.
'Forgive me,' begged the tadpole. 'I could not help it.  I do not want these arms... All I want is my beautiful rainbow.'
'And all I want is my shiny black pearl.  I will give you one last chance,' said the caterpillar.
But as sure as the world changes, the tadpole could not keep his promise.  The next time they met, he had no tail.
'You have broken your promise three times, and now you have broken my heart,' said the caterpillar.
'But you are my beautiful rainbow,' said the tadpole.
'Yes, but you are not my shiny black pearl.  Good-bye.'  She crawled up the willow branch and cried herself to sleep.
One warm moonlit night, she woke up.  The sky had changed.  The trees had changed.  Everything had changed... except for her love for the tadpole.  Even though he'd broken his promise, she decided to forgive him.
She dried her wings and fluttered down to look for him.  Where the willow meets the water, a frog was sitting on a lily pad.
'Excuse me,' she said. 'Have you seen my shiny black...'
But faster than she could say 'pearl,' the frog leapt up and swallowed her in one great gulp.
And there he waits...
thinking fondly of his beautiful rainbow...
... wondering where she went." - Jeanne Willis

What do you think?

Don’t be shocked to see some random baby pics over the next few weeks as I reminisce and cry about how little my boys once were (and how old I’m getting).  My littlest is gonna be 5 in the next month.  It was not so long ago he was my cute, chunky, cuddly little monkey.

I think if I had one wish, it would be for my boys to be babies again for just a day (on totally separate days, though - not trying to kill myself here).  Just to hold close and cuddle up, smell their fuzzy baby hair and get my fill of baby hugs.  I miss those days…

Weekend Overview

WHEW!  I didn’t lose any followers due to lack of posting… thanks for hangin’ in there guys!
I had one of the busiest, most productive weekends I’ve had in a long time (well, with regard to domestication and gettin’ my Betty Crocker on).  I apologize in advance for the lengthy post, but I have to document all of the awesomeness because it NEVER happens.  Most of my weekends lately have been spent lazing around, watching movies and catching up on weekly TV shows, and rekindling my relationship with the couch.

Friday night the boys wanted to spend the night at my grandma’s, so I took the opportunity for some quiet time and hung out with my fave friends Dexter, Callie, and Charlotte.  I also made some awesome home-made crock-pot potato soup, which I’ve never made but actually turned out so well that it was gone by Sunday and I had to make another batch to have for dinner sometime this week.  Yay for successful new recipes and for planning ahead!

Saturday I got up and shampooed the carpets.  Nothing really fun or spectacular about that, although I did notice that instead of the carpets feeling much fresher and softer as I had expected, they feel a little more matted and starchier.  Whats up with that?  I thought it was supposed to be a whole rejuvenating experience for the carpets, like when I take a shower - I know I always feel fresher and softer, so what gives?  Me and my high expectations.

After that I went and did a butt-ton of grocery, decoration, and craft shopping.  I most likely overdid it on the budget (haven’t looked - too scared), but I know I got a lot of the supplies I need to be able to get to a few projects I’ve had in mind for a while now.  Plus I got what I needed to make some more salsa, and, for some reason, salsa has been making me happy lately.

So after the salsa was done cookin’, I sent some home with my mama for her Halloween Party, and went and picked up the boys from grams.  They were kind of reluctant to go, which, who wouldn’t be when you get the run of the house, all kinds of candy and sweets, and cartoons available pretty much all day?  It’s like a little kids dream there. So, it took a little bribing on my part, but they came home and were ready to decorate the house.  We made some spooky hanging ghosts out of cheese-cloth and some foam balls I had leftover from a Christmas Snowman craft I did a couple of years ago, and they turned out pretty cute.  They drew on eyes and mouths with sharpies and we hung them in the living room.  We put up the cob-webs, lights, jack-o-lamp and other random scaries.  The living room looks really cute, and when its dark and the lights are lit, the ambiance in the room is incredibly tranquil and relaxing.  Since the most prominent colors of Halloween are orange and black, everything gives off this wonderful amber glow.  I tried I tried to take pictures and capture it for you guys, but my camera is pretty lame (or it could be operator error, but I prefer to blame the camera).  I may still try to borrow my mom’s camera and get in some shots to upload before Halloween, though.

After decorations were up, the boys chilled out and watched “The Rescuers,” because I love Disney movies and am exposing them to the pre-pixar era.  Plus we just read the read-along book from a set that came with - get this - TAPES that I had when I was a kid.  Don’t have the tapes anymore, but we still enjoy the books together.  So having only read the shortened book version of the story, they were pretty stoked to finally watch the cartoon.  And “The Rescuers” - talk about a story that makes me want to adopt 50 more kids.  I’ve given some serious thought to fostering, but have come to the conclusion that while the kids are so young, and it’s just me with them, it probably isn’t the best idea.  I think they really need all the time that I have, and the time they don’t occupy, I need for myself.  Plus I don’t really have the space for it.  But any movie about orphans or stories about kids needing a good home always makes me reconsider my decision.  I’m sure that I will foster and/or adopt eventually, it’s just hard to be patient when I know there are so many that need what I could provide. Anyway, I’m getting completely off track here, so, back to the weekend -

Sunday morning the boys let me sleep in until 9.  This was truly appreciated for a couple of reasons:  1) the boys never let me sleep in.  As soon as they are up, they are in my room asking me a million questions, or screaming like banshees through the house over the blaring cartoons and I’m begging please just let mommy sleep a little longer… please…I’ll give you anything you want… which is usually just for me to turn the XBox on, let them play my iPod, or get them cereal; and 2)  I had gone to bed late Saturday, but for some reason was wide awake at 5:30, which is WAY TOO EARLY FOR A WEEKEND!  So I did a little laundry before going back to bed around 7, and the extra couple of hours they let me sleep was G-R-E-A-T.  When I woke up, I was certain I’d find messes all over, the Halloween candy gone, or some other form of mayhem that ensues only when it’s that quiet that would cause me to regret sleeping in, but, to my surprise, they were both just sitting in their rooms, watching cartoons and being quiet.  When they saw me up, they both sprang up and declared “Mom, you’re awake!  Mommy’s up! Yay! Mom’s up!”  It was so sweet and I was so happy with them, I couldn’t say no when they asked for a piece of the Halloween candy.  I know, candy before breakfast - sue me.  To my credit though, I did then go make them an awesome breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and OJ as requested.  It was a good morning, and the day went just as well.

After breakfast, we all sat down together and played a new video game for a couple hours.  Some may criticize this, but I don’t care.  I love these times with the kids.  They love playing, and love that I can play with them.  I remember being a kid when my grandma used to play Super Mario 3 with us on the NES, it was just the bees-knees.  Or when we could actually convince our technology challenged (and that’s being nice) dad to play the original Mario.  Those memories are so fond to me because my family was participating with me in the things I enjoyed.  Just as fond as the times we all sat around the table playing Yahtzee, or Scrabble or Monopoly, or when we’d all play volleyball, badminton, or tag, or just throw a ball around.  I don’t think that video games really take anything from your kid, and playing with them will make memories just as fond as any not involving a TV and a controller.  So we played, and once we were done, I relinquished my control and let them have run of the XBox for a while.  The deal is no gaming during the weekday (except the learning games on the iPod), so on weekends like this one where we’re hanging out inside, I pretty much let them go to town on the games.  It’s kind of their reward for sticking to the schedule all week, getting all their homework done and on time, being good in and out of class, etc.

While they were playing, I did some more crafting, made caramel-candy apples and prepped the NACHOS for dinner!  I love nachos, and I was looking for an excuse to use my homemade pico, so this was perfect.  Then they took a break for a while for some quiet time in their rooms to play or read, and I cleaned up the kitchen.  When their break was over, we carved another pumpkin, played the game a little longer, and they took their baths.  Once dinner was done, it was time for stories and bed, and I was ready!  I went to bed at the same time they did last night.

All in all, though, it was a really great weekend.  I got a lot of things done that I wanted to do, had fun doing it, and spent some great time with the boys.  Who can ask for more?!

Dramatic Much?

Me:  OK Caden, time to do your spelling words.

CJ:  How many times do I have to write them this time?

Me:  Three.

CJ:  Ugh... Man that teacher really wants my hand broken, doesn't she?

Beeswax

‘None of your beeswax!!’ That’s what they say in Texas.

Caden, ever the enlightening one

Where's Me Rum?

Me:  Hey, do you guys know what today is?!

CJ:  Friday?

TJ:  Talk like an official pirate day?!

Me:  Um, Friday - yes. Pirate day - what the...? You've been hangin' with gramma too much.

TJ:   Arrrgh.

Score One For The Little Guy

Every morning when I drop the little one off at his gram’s, before I’m on my way to work, we have a little goodbye routine.

Once I pull up to the house, I say “OK babe, we’re here.”  He then gets out and walks to the driver’s side door, which I’ve typically already opened in anticipation of my hugs and kisses,  and every morning, before the hugs and kisses, he has to get in a good stretch once he’s out of the car.

This morning, while he was in the middle of his stretch, groaning and yawning with his arms reaching to the sky and wrangled with that mid-stretch-face, I noticed his little belly exposed in the gap between his pants and the bottom of his shirt -  and as anyone knows, an exposed belly is automatic grounds for tickling. So, I did what anyone in that situation would do and seized the opportunity.  He giggled and I laughed, and he looked at me with his “you-better-not-do-it-again-but-I-really-want-you-to-do-it-again-because-I-like-to-be-tickled-even-though-I-will-never-admit-it” face while raising his hands quickly.  Naturally I responded with my “I’m-gonna-get-you-because-I-know-you-love-it-even-though-you-pretend-not-to” face as I moved my hands toward his tummy.  He laughed as he jerked his hands down and shielded his belly with his arms.

Now, I imagine this tickly-interruption of his stretch and yawn must have been somewhat frustrating (even though he was laughing) because he then turned around, walked about ten feet away from me, raised his arms, and brought them back down as quickly as they went up.  Still buckled and obviously outwitted, I sat and waited for him to finish his stretch and walk back to me.

He was grinning from ear to ear on the way back and I automatically thought he was just happy to finish his stretch and hug me.  But as he leaned in to put his arms around me, he looked me in the eye and with a little weave of his neck said, “How you like me now?!”

I couldn’t do anything but laugh and grab him up for my hugs and kisses.

There’s no better way to start the day than with laughter, tickles, hugs, kisses, and giggles.

A Little Louder Please

TJ:  (playing and talking to the GB in his room)  Bowser, don’t go!  I won’t let you do it Bowser!  It’s too dangerous out there.
TJ:  Bowser, it’s me Mario!  I’ll save you!
CJ:  (from the other room finishing up his homework)  Trysten, Bowser can’t hear you.
(silence…)
TJ:  (yells) BOWSER DON’T GO! I WON’T LET YOU DO IT!!!  IT’S TOO DANGEROUS OUT THERE!!

He lived back in the 80’s.

Caden, describing his apparently prehistoric father…

Because It Matters To Me

littlegoldfishes:

Because six gay dudes killed themselves. Don’t get me wrong, it’s very sad and should not have happened, but it kind of ignores everyone else who got bullied into suicide. Why not have a day to remember all victims of suicide?

I just don’t buy into the sudden development of a bleeding heart because there was a couple of high profile cases. Seems kind of tacky and false to me.

I have to say that I agree with you here to some extent.  But I think this is less about society’s sudden development of a bleeding heart, and more about society saying “Enough is Enough.”

I understand that this “wear purple” thing stemmed from the abuse, bullying, and eventual suicides of kids that were, or even just appeared to be, homosexual.  However, I have to say, and I don’t speak for anyone else, that I wear purple today not JUST exclusively for these kids, but for any kid out there that may be different and subject to the same bullying and harassment as the six that have gained so much public attention.  I don’t believe that the media attention that this issue is getting has anything to do with media as a whole giving a crap about anything other than the next big story, or the thing that is going to get the most attention (working around the media, I know that there is always an agenda).  However, no one can deny that media issues often become “media issues” or “the next big story” because enough people felt strongly enough to make a big deal out of something.  And this is a big deal.  Kids killing themselves because other kids at school are verbally harassing them and/or physically abusing them for being different, in any way and not just limited to homosexuality, is a big deal.  Kids terrorizing their own schools and killing other kids because they’ve been harassed and bullied to their breaking point is a big deal. And it has to stop.

It breaks my heart to think about these little kids, who are still just babies, being made to feel that their lives are not worth living, or that it’s just too hard to go alone - whether gay or straight.  And honestly, for me, it’s not even limited to just raising awareness or coming together on a united front.

It’s for the kid, right now, that is thinking that no one cares or that it’s not OK to be who they are and enjoy the things they do.  Right now, as I type this, there is some kid somewhere that is thinking about giving up and about how to kill themselves.  Thinking that it won’t ever get better, and that where they are is where they’ll always be, or that getting out is too far away.  So why not, on the chance that they might see it, offer any of these kids a little visual reassurance that we hear them?  That we are with them and that we get it?

I’m not saying that everyone who cares should wear purple today, or that by wearing purple this will suddenly stop.  Everyone should take a stand in their own way, and if purple isn’t yours, there isn’t anything wrong with that.  But to label the whole thing as tacky and false, serves a hell of a lot less purpose than some dude or chick with purple on.

My purple today is my way of saying I hear you.  I understand and I will not participate in the bullying and hate, and my kids will not grow up learning to hate those that are different.  And maybe no one will see it or even notice.  But the point is I’m here.  I’m listening.  I see you.  And I am with you. And so is everyone else that you see wearing their purple proudly, and even some that aren’t.

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter. - MLK Jr.

And so do theirs, because this matters.

Attention Span

CJ: (after searching the house and back yard) Mom, is my dad still here?
Me: No babe, he had to go home this morning, remember?
CJ: (lump welling in his throat) Are you sure? Maybe he’s just at the store.
Me: No, honey, he is back at his house now.
CJ: (through mounting tears) Well I don’t want him to be gone. I just miss him.
Me: I know sweetie.
CJ: (crying and staring out the window) I’m just going to stay like this with my head glued to the window until he comes back. I don’t care how many days and nights it takes.
Me: OK baby.
CJ: (almost exactly one minute into window protest) Mom, can I play the iPod?

You Just Do

cluelessfather asked: This is a self-answering question sort of comment like thingy...You know what impresses me more than people who climb Mount Everest?

Single moms with multiple children.

I honestly have no idea how you (and others) do it. But congratulations on raising two terrific looking kids. Although it's great to have a blog (they are the modern day diaries) I highly, highly, highly doubt there will by any need for it to serve as any sort of reminder by the time they reach the age of 15.

I am certain your love and the sacrifices you made for them will be something they never forget, particularly as they get older and have the experience and knowledge to understand the depth of such devotion. 

I never realized it until now, but it feels really damn good to be acknowledged and appreciated, even it happens to be by a stranger. :)  I can only hope that as they grow, they see the same things and that you are absolutely right. Your post really touched my heart.  In fact, I’m actually crying as I type.  (I, like you, tend to be a little on the sensitive side, it seems!)


I guess, like any parent, I don’t really stop to think about what I’m doing or have done to get to where I am until someone brings it to my attention. 

I can honestly say during the course of my life as mommy, I never stopped long enough to think about how we’re going to get from point A to point B, how long it will take, what we’ll need for the process, who may or may not be tagging along, etc.  There is no procedure.   The mentality has to be to just do the best you can with what you have, and get through it.  Take each day as it comes, put the kids before anything (always, always need time for yourself, though), and basically do what you have to do to survive.   

I know people often comment about the trials of being a stay-at-home parent, or a two-parent-to-one-child family, and I sometimes will catch myself thinking try it alone with two, dude.  I won’t lie to you, when I actually stop to think about what it takes, it’s freaking hard.  And the worst part of all of it is the “mommy guilt.”  You know - that feeling that you’re inevitably doing something wrong that is going to screw your kids up for the rest of their lives, like letting them play with the iPod every night for an hour so that you can cook dinner after a 9-hour work day without them chasing each other screaming through the kitchen; or wondering if maybe the little one’s temperament stems from your inability, when he was months old, to hold him during feedings, or letting him “cry it out” because you had to change his two-year old brother’s diaper or get him lunch or keep him out of the dishwasher and away from the cabinets and off the stairs and OH SHIT HE FOUND THE DOGGY DOOR… and… and… ; or for all of those times you yelled or completely lost control.  

I’m sure some of these feelings may be a bit ridiculous, and some may be pretty typical, but I can’t help that they strike every now and then.  Especially when E-V-E-R-Y time I turn around, there is a brilliant new publication by some brilliant new psychologist/therapist/pediatrician/child development specialist with a brilliant new idea on what to do and what not to do and how to be the perfect parent.  I mean, I know the little one’s temperament likely stems from a lot more than just “mommy didn’t hold you” (there is a background with that kid and his conception and entrance into the world that cuts deeper than the birthing scar I bear), and I know the iPod probably isn’t killing any brain cells because the amount of use is pretty regulated, but does that make it stop?  Not even close.  But when it comes down to it, there’s no amount of parenting advice in the universe that can teach someone how to sacrifice their whole lives for that of another – or in my case, those of two others.  Changing your priorities, focus, and direction have to be conscious decisions - and there is no manual or brilliant new idea that can teach that.  

So, when faced with the question, “how do you do it,” the only answer that really comes to mind is  you just do.   And I guess at the end of the day, when the house is quiet and I’m alone with only my thoughts, and the questions and guilt and exhaustion start knocking at the door – that’s really the only thing that keeps me going.  

You. Just. Do.

 

Pinky & The Brain - Pumpkin Style

 

Right Pumpkin:  Uh, What are we gonna do today, Pinky?
Left Pumpkin:  Same thing we do every day Brain, try to TAKE OVER THE WORLD!

Surprise Visit

Caden’s dad came over for a surprise visit this weekend.  While the two of them were on the phone for their nightly call, there was a knock at the door.  Caden had absolutely no clue it could possibly be HIS dad.  Imagine his surprise when that’s exactly who walked through the door!  Actually, you don’t have to imagine it, because I took pictures!  Yay!  

"Hold on dad, someone is at the door."

"Hey wait, who -- wait, is that..."

"It's MY DAD!!"

"Dad, you're on the phone AND here!"

"You tricked me dad! I missed you!!"

(Let’s not pay attention to the picture quality though - I obviously shouldn’t quit my day job to become a sports/action photographer any time soon.  It’s the moment that counts, people!) 

Revenge of the Lasagna Zombie

Hey mom, great lasagna!  Love you!

Hey Caden!  Love you too!

Oh no!  Caden, look out!

It's a flesh-eating Zombie Trysten!

Pumpkin Alter Egos

They may look sweet and innocent, but the truth is hiding in the background!

WTF Moment #2

CJ:  Hi Angela!
Girl:  Hi boyfriend!
Me:  . . . ?!

Shame On You, Mommy

So, I got this mole on my lower calf removed about a week ago.  In order to remove the mole, they had to remove a chunk of flesh about the size, shape, and thickness of a nickel.  So now where the mole used to be, there is just an ugly, flesh-exposed hole in my leg.  And I have to be honest - it looks real gross.  I usually keep it covered, but last night I had treated it and wanted to let it air out a bit.

So last night at story time, Caden was laying in my bed as we were wrapping up the last of his book.  When I told him the story was over and it was time for bed, he did what he usually does and pretended he was asleep.  I always know he isn’t and that it’s just his attempt to play with me, but I was already tired and feeling cranky, so I really wasn’t in the mood.  I told him again it was bed time, and tried to keep patient, but it seems the bed time command is always inevitably followed up with whining.

CJ:  Awwww man.  Can’t I just sleep in your bed mom?
Me: No Caden, you have your own bed, dude.  We each have our own beds so that we can sleep in them.
CJ:  But mom, I just want to sleep in your bed and cuddle with you.

Now, while this sentiment is pretty sweet, and there have definitely been nights where this exact same conversation has taken place and I have caved without much hesitation at all, I have undoubtedly learned my lesson.  First of all, if you cave and let one kid sleep with you, the other kid’s sleepy-sense starts tingling and within five minutes he will show up in your room at your bedside, poking your shoulder to see if you’re awake and ask if he can get in the bed, too.  And if you let one kid in the bed, you have to let the other in.  Secondly, if you cave, they will remember it and exploit your weakness e-v-e-r-y chance they get.  And unless you enjoy some good, old fashioned, tag team style jabs-to-the-ribs and a few forearms-to-the-face while you are sleeping, you will seriously reconsider allowing this to happen.

With that in mind, there was no way the kid was sleeping with me, but I still knew that the next five minutes would consist of him working every angle he knew how, and me shooting him down like a WWII kamikaze pilot.  None of which I was looking forward to or really in the mood to deal with at all.  So when he noticed the “thing” on my leg and started asking questions, I knew the universe had recognized my frustration and my moment had arrived.

CJ:  What’s that thing, mom?
Me:  It’s my owie.
CJ:  Oh man!  That’s DISGUSTING!
Me:  Yep, and if you don’t get out of my bed, I’m going to put it on you.

His face went immediately from curiosity, to complete disgust, to sheer horror at the thought of having this thing touching him, and I just sat for a moment and delighted at my own evil genius.  Then, when I could tell he wasn’t quite sure if I was serious or not, I raised my leg and began inching it further in his direction, taunting him in a sing-songy fashion like here I cooome… I’m gonna put it on youuuu…

I don’t think I’ve seen him bolt out of my bed so quickly before, e-v-e-r .  And as if that wasn’t enough, just for my own complete enjoyment of the situation, I followed him all the way out of the room taunting him every time he turned around to see if he could relax.  I’m telling you, the kid was out of there with the quickness.

I’m fairly sure I can say that I’ve never been so ashamed and so proud of myself all at the same time.  It was seriously awesome.

Mommy - 1, Caden - 0

Out of The Mouth of Mommy - Vol. 1

A small collection of things I never imagined I’d say in my lifetime that I’ve found myself actually saying to my children:

“I’m gonna criss-cross your applesauce here in a second…” - Yep, me threatening my children in a last ditch effort to get them to quit playing in their food and eat it.

“Hey!  Enough with the wiener business!” - Yes, this actually came out of my mouth.  My boys are boys to the core and with that they find their little appendages quite curious and comical.  So, one night they were both laughing hysterically at the word “wiener,” while also managing to strip naked and streak through the house shakin’ their little tallywackers at anything that would give them half a look - in other words, me.  In a moment where I was really torn between laughing in complete defeat at my naked little hooligans, and still having the desire to correct whatever mis-behavior was going on, all I could muster was that one ridiculous command which served no purpose but to further their shenanigans and cause me to question my rationale as a sane person.

“Maybe unicorns and dragons live in Heaven with God.” - Say this to your kids and observe the blank expressions on their faces while you watch the wheels in their heads cranking at full speed ahead.  This is pretty much just me taking advantage of their vast imaginations and ability to be manipulated in order serve my own sick sense of humor.  But seriously, that shit is funny.  I know, I know - I’m a horrible mother.

Don’t worry, though.  They’ll pay me back for it tomorrow.

Hold Your Own

Hold your own, know your name, and go your own way. And everything will be fine.


This song embodies everything I want to say, or would want to say, to anyone I know, or even anyone that I don’t, that is struggling, doubting, confused, and feeling insecure or hopeless.

Someday, my babies are going to venture away, and I’ll no longer be able to protect them from all the sadness and pain that life will throw at them.  And when the time comes that they have to learn all of the difficult lessons in store, and they feel the hopelessness begin to creep in (because it always finds a way), this is the message I hope to send.

Sharing Is Caring

WTF Moment #1

You shoulda saw her before she cut her hair. I don’t remember her name but she is really cute. Her eyes are the cutest thing on her body. You should see her. - Caden

My six year old on the phone with his dad this very second. I’m not sure if this should be an “awww what a sweet boy” moment or a “WTF?! Oh no you’re NOT!” moment

First Test

OK, I know this is pretty basic stuff, but I’m still so proud of my little monster!



Way to go Caden!!!!  See, practice does make perfect.

Harvard, here we come!

Out Of Luck

CJ:  Say I'm luckier than you!

TJ:  Never!!

CJ:  Say it or I won't let you up!

TJ:  I'll never say it!

CJ:  Say I'm luckier than you or I'm staying on top of you!

TJ:  I'm luckier than you.

CJ:  No, say I'M luckier than YOU.

TJ:  I'M luckier than YOU.

CJ:  No that's not what I mean Trysten. Say "you're luckier than me."

TJ:  I'm luckier than you.

CJ:  Hey, that's not what I mean! Say "you're luckier than me, Caden."

TJ:  I'm luckier than you, Caden.

CJ:  No fair Trysten! Mom, Trysten won't say I'm luckier than him!

TJ:  Caden, you'll never be luckier than me.

Monster Magoo

CJ:   Mommy, I can’t find my other shoe!
Me:  (in the middle of brushing my teeth)
CJ:   MOMMY!!!!  I can’t FIND my other SHOE!
Me:  Did you look in the closet with your other shoes?
CJ:  Yeah.  It isn’t there.
Me:  Honey are you sure? It’s probably in the closet.
CJ:  It’s NOT mom - I ALREADY looked.  Unnngh… I can’t find it ANYWHERE!



Really kid?!  REALLY?!?!

Next time I’ll be sure to ask him if he looked with his eyes OPEN.

Monster See, Monster Do

For some, being entertaining seems to come more naturally than it does for others.  Being fresh to this whole blogging thing, I have found it a little more difficult than I had originally anticipated to get what I’m thinking out there in a way that is as funny, witty, and entertaining as it appears in my head.  And I have to say, I’m a little jealous of my kids when it comes to this ability.  For them, it seems entertainment, whether finding or creating it, is a cakewalk.  For my kids, funny seems to just come naturally.  They are hilarious - and not just because I’m their mom and I think that they eat rainbows and poop butterflies - but because they really are just funny, and the kicker is that they don’t even know it.

For example, I’m in the kitchen making dinner one night and my four-year-old rushes in and stops in front of me all like, “Hey mom, check out THESE babies!” As I turn to look, I see him rotate his arms downward and flex in serious muscle-man fashion, then lift each arm to his mouth, one by one, and KISS his biceps!  KISS HIS FREAKING BICEPS!  Then he runs off and I just stand there, laughing and shaking my head as I ask myself “What just happened? Was that my kid? He’s FOUR YEARS OLD, where the crap did he get that from?”

And though I can usually count on the little one always being a character, his brother definitely has his moments, too.  One day they were both playing some imaginary game that involved light sabers, kung-fu moves, live-action sound effects, and the couch as a spring board (which is something I’m not too incredibly thrilled about and is the source of repeated time-outs - but we will save the couch kung-fu for another time).  On this particular day, CJ had the brilliant idea that part of his kung-fu mastery display would involve a running leap onto the couch, followed by a full somersault roll over the chaise lounge and back onto his feet.  Only, it didn’t quite go as planned.  Instead, he ran toward the couch, jumped up and landed on his knees, bounced off of the cushion and over the side of the chaise lounge, and landed flat on his butt on the floor.  Before I could even ask him if he was alright, he leapt up off of the floor and announced “I’m OK!  It’s alright, I’m OK!”

Of course I just sat there and laughed.

When I ask myself why it’s so much easier for them to be so funny, the only answer I can come up with is sheer lack of inhibition.  They are so far away from caring what anyone else is thinking, doing, feeling, or saying that they’re just free to do and laugh at what they feel is funny, and say whatever is on their minds. Now, I know I’m not the first person on the planet that has ever made this connection (in fact I’m pretty sure it was this same basic concept that led to the development of Wacko Jacko’s Neverland Ranch), but what I’m essentially saying here is maybe it isn’t such a bad thing to act like a kid sometimes - to throw the confines of every day responsibilities and the realities of your life away for a moment, embrace a little immaturity, laugh at the silly things and just be happy to be.

I know I’m no philosopher and I have no degree, but it seems to just make sense to me.  Especially lately as I’m struggling with my own take on the world and where I am in my life.  Like a lot of people that have made personal sacrifices to raise kids, I’m still juggling that age-old question about what and who I want to be when I grow up.  Part of me is content with the pieces I already have in place (I always wanted to be a mommy), but another part of me longs to do so much more with my life.  I guess what it essentially comes down to is this: do I want to be the kind of person that takes themselves and everything else so seriously in order to achieve my goals, that I make it virtually impossible to enjoy the small things that surround me every day?  I know that I don’t.  And I think it’s in these times of questioning and self-doubt, what I really need most is to be able to laugh and let go - and there really isn’t anyone I know who is better at laughing and letting go than my monsters.

So, even though I am the one that is supposed to be leading by example and molding and shaping them into the functioning adults they’re meant to be, I find that, from time to time, I am actually looking to them as the examples as they mold and shape me.

Meet Patches

Today I’d like to introduce you to my youngest son, Patches.  Patches normally goes by the name TJ, is four years old (soon to be five), and wants to be famous.  So today, in an honest effort to achieve his goal, he decided it would be an exceptional idea to cut his own hair.  When asked why, he stated he wanted to look “famous” and “fancy like grandpa” (who is half bald, by the way).   This is the amazing look he came up with, which I like to call the “Dino Egg” cut.



I think it’ll be a hit.  Soon, four-year-olds everywhere will be dying for this look.

Umm, yeah.

Makes me really happy that I just paid to get his hair cut last week, though.  Next time I’m just handing him scissors and letting him go to town.  I bet it’ll be even fancier then.

From The Mouths of Monsters - Vol. 1

“Whoa nelly!  Oh my bunga!”
Why not, right?  Makes about as much sense as “cowabunga!”


“Mommy, I think I know what a mummy is:  a zombie wrapped in toilet paper.”
HA!  Zombies 1, Mummies 0.


“You be the mole, I’ll be the whacker.”
So profound.  So deep.

Battle Cry

Let’s get ‘em to death!

TJ’s battle cry before kicking some serious imaginary zombie butt with his paper-towel-roll sword and stealthy kung-fu moves

Mommy Strategy

When trying to get my kids to follow directions, there are times when being “mom” just isn’t enough.  Times when “do your homework,” “pick up your room,” and “settle down” all result in the same variation of the basic whiny question of “why,” and the response “because I said so” evokes a sheer look of confusion from them and causes me to flirt with the idea that maybe I speak Japanese and they’re the only ones aware of it.

However, I think I may have found an answer.

I’ve found, during these times, if I add “family” as an adjective any time I want something done collectively, my kids have no idea they’re doing something they don’t want to do.  It’s genius, really.

Examples:  Family Clean Up Day, Family Quiet Time, Family Movie Night, Family Game Time (have to throw in a few fun ones to throw them off the trail), Family Homework Time, Family Dinner Time, etc.

It has totally worked so far, and it’s even been great for everyone on the quality time scale.  When I’m involved and participating in whatever I’ve asked them to do, they’re less likely to whine about not wanting to do it. Then they are happy and mommy isn’t having visions of locking anyone in closets!  Yay!

WARNING:  This is where I point out that I mostly have no clue what I’m talking about outside of my own experience, but this little strategy seems to work for me and my monsters, so it’s possible it’ll work for others.  Also, do not use this strategy to get your kids to do things such as bathe or pee in the potty.  Family Bathing Time and Family Toilet Time are just NOT OK.

You Tease

TJ: Mommy, if I don’t get milk I’m gonna pass out.
Me: Promise?

Morning Madness In The Monster House

This morning was another chaotic morning, and, of course, could have most likely been avoided had I just pulled my butt out of bed when the alarm went off.  I honestly don’t know what my problem is.  Every night I resolve that I will be disciplined enough to wake up ON TIME tomorrow and it will be a new start for mornings in our house.  I don’t know who I think I’m kidding.  It doesn’t really matter what time I go to bed - when the alarm goes off, I’m still like only ten more minutes… just need ten more…

Which doesn’t even make any sense.  Who realistically only needs ten more minutes of sleep?  Like in that ten minutes, I’ll suddenly feel awakened and rejuvenated enough to spring from my bed and greet the day with a smile on my face and sunshine in my hair.  Uh, yeah, not so much.  All that ten minutes does is give me the opportunity to fall back to sleep long enough for the alarm to go off again, be jolted out of the intro of the most amazing dream ever, and wake up disgruntled and pissed at life.

Then of course we’re all I’m rushing around trying to get everyone ready and fed before we leave, while simultaneously getting myself ready for work.  And why wouldn’t it be the kind of morning where the littlest monster doesn’t want to get himself dressed, or get his own shoes and socks on, and wants instead to play the gameboy FIRST THING? (Not even exaggerating here.  I watched him literally open his eyes, roll over, grab the gameboy off of the dresser, sit up and begin playing.  I know - I need to get the kid off the crack like now yesterday).  And why wouldn’t it be the kind of morning where the bigger monster whines because he can’t wear shorts and sandals through the torrential downpour outside? (OK slight exaggeration on the torrential downpour - it was actually very sunny this morning - but just because it didn’t happen this morning, doesn’t mean it has not happened or he didn’t whine about something else). So needless to say, by the time we were all actually in the car, I’m pretty sure there was steam coming from my ears and I looked like I just stuck my finger in a light socket.  I let them both know that from now on the gameboy is off limits in the morning, to which the little one replies “well grandma lets us play it.”  This is right about the point where my head exploded.

Me:  (fierce and scary because my head just exploded) I don’t care what grandma does in the morning.  This isn’t grandma’s house, IS IT?!
Kids: (trembling with fear) no

Way to go, crazy mom.

Once we were in the car and on the road though, it was all good.  I told them it really makes mommy feel frustrated in the morning when they don’t listen.  And the little one chimes in “well mommy when you feel frustrated you just need to take a lot of deep breaths, OK?”

“OK honey, I’ll be sure to remember that.”  And I chuckle and think to myself maybe my monsters aren’t such monsters.  And, if they are, maybe it has more to do with their Monster Mommy than it does anything else.