Last week was the happiest day of the month for Mom, Dad, and Karla.....because Drew went back to school!!! He might have not have shared our quantity of enthusiasm but he was ready, too. I'd actually planned ahead (I know! It's close to miraculous!) and had already acquired shoes, shirts, and shorts so that we were READY. Now, the joy of returning to school was slightly overshadowed by the necessary evil that a school schedule entailed - the Nintendo DS detox. The Nintendo DS had become less of a favored toy over the last three to four weeks and more of the necessity to the very breathing process on which Drew is dependent to survive. I honestly felt it to be 'little boy crack' and Drew, quite frankly, was hooked. If he could have plugged the device into his own body for recharging purposes, I'm afraid the plug would have been swallowed by the ravenous skin and muscles and nary a peep would I hear until the absolute necessity of food consumption drove him from the cubby-hole (the slim space between the couch and the wall) he'd claimed as his own.
I cannot lie. This detox has involved crying, yelling, and a gnashing of teeth and that was all just me. Drew, poor Drew, has taken his usual sledgehammer approach to the complete elimination of the DS from his daily schedule. For illustration purposes, I give you an excerpt:
"Mom?"
"Yes, Drew?"
"Can I play my DS?"
"No, Drew. You need to finish your jobs before Ms. Stacey comes to take you to school."
"Okay."
A few moments later...
"Mooommmm?"
"Yes, Drew?"
"Now, can I play my DS? I did my jobs!"
"Did you make your bed? Say your prayers? Eat your cereal? Brush your teeth? Wash your face?"
"ARGGHHH! ....No....(face scrunched up in a concentrated thought process) but I did most of my jobs."
"You need to get ready for school. You know you can't play your DS in the morning before school."
In his best irritated, 'I'll show you' voice, "Fine! I'm going to do my jobs!!"
"Good. Thank you."
Sounds of doors slamming and things being thrown despite the fact that it is barely 6:15 and I go back to prepping my lunch box and the hot chocolate that will keep me from prison when Nicholas in third period gets out of his seat without permission for the forty-billionth time.
"MOOOOOMMMMMM."
Repressing, repressing, repressing..."Yes?"
"Can I play my DS NOW? I've done all my jobs!"
He is completely dressed with hair awry and shirt disheveled and an empty stomach as I just poured his cereal a moment ago.
"Did you eat breakfast?"
"No, I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat breakfast. That's one of your jobs."
"ARGHHHH! FINE!" He climbs on the stool, glaring at me over his cereal and begins to slurp it, eyeballing the DS peeking seductively at him from the top of the fridge. Roughly, two minutes later....
"Mom?"
'Don't scream,' I tell myself.
"Yes, Drew?"
"Can I play my DS?"
Please ignore me as I now bash my head repeatedly against the side of the fridge. Needless to say, the answer continues to be 'No' and finally, I am able to escape to my car, leaving poor Karla behind to face the sledgehammer approach alone. Luckily, I've left her cookies to fortify her in her denials. However, should she break down, I will understand and the next day, I will re-arm her with peanut butter chocolate cake and the removal of the little boy crack. Let the detox continue so my chances of brain damage decrease.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Toying With Mommy
We have officially reached the conclusion of the school year and for you parents in mourning, I say, "Muhahahahahaha!" Not really, but the end of May is like Christmas for most educators in which we are able to give back the glorious gift you've given us all........year........long.......: your children. Suffice to say, Drew's teachers were given heaping plates of whatever baked goods they liked the best as they waved good-bye to him with tears of sadness, possibly relief, clouding their vision. I've actually been out of school for a whole week already and have been given the vivid reminder that stay at home moms have LESS time to themselves than us teachers. At least I can go to the bathroom during my planning period without the fear that one of the students will scramble atop my desk and plunge over the edge unlike Savannah who still has not learned that gravity works! Also, I can hurry to the store on the way home without multiple children in tow and not cave to the parental low in which I tell my son that I would rather be punched in the face than take him to the store with his sisters ever again. (I know, I know! I already apologized....but seriously, the sentiment is still true.)
On a different note, we have reached a new level of a game the girls play that I call, "Toying with Mommy." The main point of this game is see how quickly the girls can drive Mommy to distraction through various multi-player strategies, sometimes even involving Brother. During bath time, the girls have perfected the synthesis of Up-Down-Up-Down-Up-Down that you would see in that old arcade game, "Whack A Mole." I sit Savannah down, explaining we do not stand up in the bathtub. While the words are leaving my mouth, Abby is up, smiling brightly as she attempts to eat the faucet in all of its 1950's glory. I sit her down, "No stand. Sit on your bottom." Savannah rises on my words, smirking at Mommy's panic and the cycle continues until I wash Pop-Up One and Two as best I can prior to whisking them from the tub. In their room, the game moves to a new phase entitled, "Shed your towel and run naked around the room, avoiding Mommy and her diapers of restriction." While the title is a bit long, I feel it truly encompasses all of the strategies of the game. Abby is truly the dominant player in this game and stands just out of arm's reach, giggling maniacally before dashing away. At this point, I am forced to use her own lovey against her and dangle her blanket enticingly so she dashes over to be coated in lotion and wrangled into her diaper like a little greased pig. Savannah inevitably wanders over to gloat over Sister's misfortune at which point I snatch her up and subject her to the same treatment much to her verbal dismay.
I must confess that I feel I have created a serious problem for Brandon in the future. In an effort to encourage the girls to wear their new shoes, I told them, "Look! Soooooooo pretty!" as I stuffed their little feet in them. Now, I did not tell them that a mere one time. We are talking a day or more of verbal enticement and now Abby stalks me about the house, shoes in hand, waiting for me to sit down at which point she sits beside me, pushes me her shoes, bats her eyes at me, and chirps, "I's? I's? I's?" I don't know what she means by the "I's" but the shoe fetish I well understand and poor Brandon, well, let's just say that a shoe love embedded by age one, bespeaks of serious shoe purchases in the future. Since he's completely whipped by his adorable daughters, well, even a pet snake could be an option if it were couched just right by one of the girls. Savannah is less in love with her shoes. She'll let me put them on but will inevitably take one off and hobble around like a little pony waiting to be put down, clutching the errant shoe in one hand. Recently, Abby has taken to talking to Savannah while banging the stray shoe on the floor and I'm afraid Big Sister is attempting to pass on her new footwear fetish.
Finally, the game during meals is instigated by Savannah and she has successfully taught it to Abby, thus ensuring that I am constantly scrambling mid-meal and will most likely not eat a hot meal again until they turn five or so. Cups can be exceptionally useful tools, particularly when attempting to create your own Lake Ponchatrain across your tray. You should make sure to leave a variety of foods in order to color your lake and provide items for the projectile motion created by your hands swishing across your tray as fast as you can. These items can sail up to eight feet but the best effect is created when the food spatters across the nearby walls and windows thus creating a artistic display for all to appreciate. My tip off that the game has begun is the incessant giggling following by Savannah's emphatic, "Mama!" at which point I'm already too late to stop the art from being created and should just move on to the next phase of MY plan: convincing the world my daughter's artistic endeavors are examples of genius so that some nimrod, I mean, connoisseur can pay an exorbitant, I mean rational, fee for her art.
On a different note, we have reached a new level of a game the girls play that I call, "Toying with Mommy." The main point of this game is see how quickly the girls can drive Mommy to distraction through various multi-player strategies, sometimes even involving Brother. During bath time, the girls have perfected the synthesis of Up-Down-Up-Down-Up-Down that you would see in that old arcade game, "Whack A Mole." I sit Savannah down, explaining we do not stand up in the bathtub. While the words are leaving my mouth, Abby is up, smiling brightly as she attempts to eat the faucet in all of its 1950's glory. I sit her down, "No stand. Sit on your bottom." Savannah rises on my words, smirking at Mommy's panic and the cycle continues until I wash Pop-Up One and Two as best I can prior to whisking them from the tub. In their room, the game moves to a new phase entitled, "Shed your towel and run naked around the room, avoiding Mommy and her diapers of restriction." While the title is a bit long, I feel it truly encompasses all of the strategies of the game. Abby is truly the dominant player in this game and stands just out of arm's reach, giggling maniacally before dashing away. At this point, I am forced to use her own lovey against her and dangle her blanket enticingly so she dashes over to be coated in lotion and wrangled into her diaper like a little greased pig. Savannah inevitably wanders over to gloat over Sister's misfortune at which point I snatch her up and subject her to the same treatment much to her verbal dismay.
I must confess that I feel I have created a serious problem for Brandon in the future. In an effort to encourage the girls to wear their new shoes, I told them, "Look! Soooooooo pretty!" as I stuffed their little feet in them. Now, I did not tell them that a mere one time. We are talking a day or more of verbal enticement and now Abby stalks me about the house, shoes in hand, waiting for me to sit down at which point she sits beside me, pushes me her shoes, bats her eyes at me, and chirps, "I's? I's? I's?" I don't know what she means by the "I's" but the shoe fetish I well understand and poor Brandon, well, let's just say that a shoe love embedded by age one, bespeaks of serious shoe purchases in the future. Since he's completely whipped by his adorable daughters, well, even a pet snake could be an option if it were couched just right by one of the girls. Savannah is less in love with her shoes. She'll let me put them on but will inevitably take one off and hobble around like a little pony waiting to be put down, clutching the errant shoe in one hand. Recently, Abby has taken to talking to Savannah while banging the stray shoe on the floor and I'm afraid Big Sister is attempting to pass on her new footwear fetish.
Finally, the game during meals is instigated by Savannah and she has successfully taught it to Abby, thus ensuring that I am constantly scrambling mid-meal and will most likely not eat a hot meal again until they turn five or so. Cups can be exceptionally useful tools, particularly when attempting to create your own Lake Ponchatrain across your tray. You should make sure to leave a variety of foods in order to color your lake and provide items for the projectile motion created by your hands swishing across your tray as fast as you can. These items can sail up to eight feet but the best effect is created when the food spatters across the nearby walls and windows thus creating a artistic display for all to appreciate. My tip off that the game has begun is the incessant giggling following by Savannah's emphatic, "Mama!" at which point I'm already too late to stop the art from being created and should just move on to the next phase of MY plan: convincing the world my daughter's artistic endeavors are examples of genius so that some nimrod, I mean, connoisseur can pay an exorbitant, I mean rational, fee for her art.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Birthday Bonanzas
It's an episode of "Birthdays Gone Wild" in which the birthday parties never stop and continue in an ever building cycle of cake, cleaning, and clean up. In the behind the scenes info (shown on only the DVD for sale at outofyourmind.com), you, the viewer, will see the gradual de-evolution of Mommy's mental state until she builds to the moment she finds herself elbow deep in cake and icing, licking the streaks of chocolate off her forearms and inhaling a piece of fist-clenched piece of cake roughly the size of Savannah's head. Talk me down people; talk me down.
We finally completed the last of three parties for Drew's sixth birthday and I'm afraid we've set the precedent that birthdays last a minimum of one month in this house. I'm going to have to blame the birthday boy for beginning this spiral of sugar and presents with his extreme craftiness.
Only a couple of months before the birthday spectaculars began, Grammy and Poppa came out for the girls' first birthday in which we introduced them to the joys of processed sugar. Abby was a bit confused by this circular, smooshy thing before her and she took her time poking at it to ensure it wasn't actually alive and going to bite her prior to realizing the joy that is cake. Savannah had no such compunctions and was literally licking her tray by the time Abby was taking her third or fourth bite and was eyeballing Abby's SLOWLY disappearing cupcake, mentally chanting, "Just a little closer, Mommy. Just a little closer.."
At the end of the mini extraveganza weekend, Grammy and Poppa prepared to leave on that long drive back to Texas. Drew came up for hugs and kisses, knowing darn well that happy Grammy and Poppa send or bring awesome presents in the future.
"Grammy?"
"Yes, Drew?"
"You're coming to MY birthday, right?"
This statement was met by a brief pause as my mom later confessed that they hadn't really planned to come to Drew's party, knowing that they would see him only a few short weeks after his birthday for a summer vacation. How little did she know.
"I know you're coming to my birthday 'cause you love me."
This statement was made with the absolute assurance of a little boy who knows that Grammy will definitely be there and if she hadn't planned to before, she was now. The boy is good. So, with the infinite patience and kindness my parents possess, they made another trip at the beginning of the month to celebrate Captain Craftypants' birthday. Naturally, that trip involved cake and an amazing ride on a swamp tour where the really large alligators decided that it was their day to play hard to get and even dangling Drew over the edge of the boat refused to entice them.
Naturally, Party Dos was the school party in which I needed to make sure that NO peanuts came in contact with anything we brought and red dye was refused by one little girl with all the aplomb of a designer woman rejecting a Wal-Mart handbag. Drew there displayed his inordinate dancing skills in which I came to realize that Mommy cannot will him my sense of rhythm and we must hope that his wife will understand his dance floor skills are strictly from his father. The little girl he pared up with for their "tango" seemed to understand that his crazy gyrations were meant with the best of intentions. (Just in case, I slipped her a extra cupcake.)
Finally, the grand finale of his party a la casa! Predominantly neighbors and church members, we set about with a series of organized games that disintegrated into the wild aiming of the water hose and adults hiding indoors, muttering things about "The Lord of the Flies." Luckily, no children were permanently maimed and I was able to pawn the extra cake off on my unsuspecting guests but by this time, I was so mentally unhinged that I was unable to remember to take any photos. I will need to hit up my guests for visible evidence that said get together without injury did actually occur. At the conclusion of these festivities, I sat Drew down and explained his birthday was OVER. He seemed to understand but it's been only 24 hours and the lapses between cake were of a longer duration so I think he might be holding out hope that Mommy's just having another one of her crazy moments and that next weekend could involve either a space walk or a clown, depending on whether or not we want to see Daddy do a de-evolution of his own. We all know how Daddy feels about clowns...
We finally completed the last of three parties for Drew's sixth birthday and I'm afraid we've set the precedent that birthdays last a minimum of one month in this house. I'm going to have to blame the birthday boy for beginning this spiral of sugar and presents with his extreme craftiness.
Only a couple of months before the birthday spectaculars began, Grammy and Poppa came out for the girls' first birthday in which we introduced them to the joys of processed sugar. Abby was a bit confused by this circular, smooshy thing before her and she took her time poking at it to ensure it wasn't actually alive and going to bite her prior to realizing the joy that is cake. Savannah had no such compunctions and was literally licking her tray by the time Abby was taking her third or fourth bite and was eyeballing Abby's SLOWLY disappearing cupcake, mentally chanting, "Just a little closer, Mommy. Just a little closer.."
The poking of uncertainty
Savannah just knew, from the moment it hit her tray, what to do!
At the end of the mini extraveganza weekend, Grammy and Poppa prepared to leave on that long drive back to Texas. Drew came up for hugs and kisses, knowing darn well that happy Grammy and Poppa send or bring awesome presents in the future.
"Grammy?"
"Yes, Drew?"
"You're coming to MY birthday, right?"
This statement was met by a brief pause as my mom later confessed that they hadn't really planned to come to Drew's party, knowing that they would see him only a few short weeks after his birthday for a summer vacation. How little did she know.
"I know you're coming to my birthday 'cause you love me."
This statement was made with the absolute assurance of a little boy who knows that Grammy will definitely be there and if she hadn't planned to before, she was now. The boy is good. So, with the infinite patience and kindness my parents possess, they made another trip at the beginning of the month to celebrate Captain Craftypants' birthday. Naturally, that trip involved cake and an amazing ride on a swamp tour where the really large alligators decided that it was their day to play hard to get and even dangling Drew over the edge of the boat refused to entice them.
Naturally, Party Dos was the school party in which I needed to make sure that NO peanuts came in contact with anything we brought and red dye was refused by one little girl with all the aplomb of a designer woman rejecting a Wal-Mart handbag. Drew there displayed his inordinate dancing skills in which I came to realize that Mommy cannot will him my sense of rhythm and we must hope that his wife will understand his dance floor skills are strictly from his father. The little girl he pared up with for their "tango" seemed to understand that his crazy gyrations were meant with the best of intentions. (Just in case, I slipped her a extra cupcake.)
Finally, the grand finale of his party a la casa! Predominantly neighbors and church members, we set about with a series of organized games that disintegrated into the wild aiming of the water hose and adults hiding indoors, muttering things about "The Lord of the Flies." Luckily, no children were permanently maimed and I was able to pawn the extra cake off on my unsuspecting guests but by this time, I was so mentally unhinged that I was unable to remember to take any photos. I will need to hit up my guests for visible evidence that said get together without injury did actually occur. At the conclusion of these festivities, I sat Drew down and explained his birthday was OVER. He seemed to understand but it's been only 24 hours and the lapses between cake were of a longer duration so I think he might be holding out hope that Mommy's just having another one of her crazy moments and that next weekend could involve either a space walk or a clown, depending on whether or not we want to see Daddy do a de-evolution of his own. We all know how Daddy feels about clowns...
Sunday, May 22, 2011
When Daddy cooks dinnner....
Recently, Brandon has been promoted to the homicide division and as a family, we are ecstatic. Not only can he revel in the amazing quantity of fluids released from the human body upon death, he's home more frequently in the evenings than he's been in the last four years. These new and exciting encounters lend to new and exciting forays into our kitchen where he is able to make messes that he cannot conceal from me as I am still awake and able to hear his colorful language as he drops tomorrow's dinner onto the floor. Since tomorrow's dinner would have been Mamba's great delight and is now trash-bound, Daddy is now in charge of dinner. This means one of a few possible options. Option one: Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches. This option is likely should Daddy have paid bills immediately prior to "cooking" dinner and has the wild-eyes and twitching hands of a man close to the edge. Option two: Pizza from Domino's. This option is more plausible as Daddy only needs to place the order online, sign the pizza delivery slip, and summon all to the table. Plus, this option does not involve Daddy needing to enter the kitchen at all except to fetch napkins and milk.
Pizza it is!
In addition, to Brandon expanding his culinary repertoire, he being home more often means that Drew is finally being schooled in the many areas that Mommy is simply not qualified to teach. For example in this day alone, Drew learned:
How to punch or slap someone without hurting yourself but never to punch or slap your friends.
What music is awesome (Garth Brooks) versus the music Mommy has let him hear (Glee).
How to use as many glasses as possible in the shortest time period possible.
Needless to say, today has been quite the day of enlightenment.
Savannah continues to entertain us with her interpretation of a starving orphan cramming as many cookies or crackers as feasibly possible into her mouth at once. This impression is only entertaining as long as she is able to restrain the urge to vomit at which point, she looks rather surprised despite it having happened MULTIPLE TIMES NOW. Abby wanders around the room, punctuating the conversation with her newest verbal accomplishment, "Uh-oh."
An example:
"Abby, what are you doing with sister's blanket?"
"Uh-oh."
"Abby, who are you calling on the murder phone?"
"Uh-oh."
"Abby! Take your hand out of that cookie box!"
"Uh-oh."
(Yes, she shouldn't be able to reach the box but we're severely outnumbered and outgunned here and Mommy and Daddy need those cookies to be easily accessible....for us.)
Pizza it is!
In addition, to Brandon expanding his culinary repertoire, he being home more often means that Drew is finally being schooled in the many areas that Mommy is simply not qualified to teach. For example in this day alone, Drew learned:
How to punch or slap someone without hurting yourself but never to punch or slap your friends.
What music is awesome (Garth Brooks) versus the music Mommy has let him hear (Glee).
How to use as many glasses as possible in the shortest time period possible.
Needless to say, today has been quite the day of enlightenment.
Savannah continues to entertain us with her interpretation of a starving orphan cramming as many cookies or crackers as feasibly possible into her mouth at once. This impression is only entertaining as long as she is able to restrain the urge to vomit at which point, she looks rather surprised despite it having happened MULTIPLE TIMES NOW. Abby wanders around the room, punctuating the conversation with her newest verbal accomplishment, "Uh-oh."
An example:
"Abby, what are you doing with sister's blanket?"
"Uh-oh."
"Abby, who are you calling on the murder phone?"
"Uh-oh."
"Abby! Take your hand out of that cookie box!"
"Uh-oh."
(Yes, she shouldn't be able to reach the box but we're severely outnumbered and outgunned here and Mommy and Daddy need those cookies to be easily accessible....for us.)
Friday, May 20, 2011
Exhaustion versus Intelligence
One of the joys of children, as all parents know, is the morning wake-up call. Whether it be the dulcet tones of your child calling your name or the shriek of dismay at realizing that Mommy did induce sleep, it is a memory that lasts at least until the first cup of hot chocolate or coffee if you are Daddy. If you are Drew's parents, it involves the slowly stirring realization that you are being watched and breathed on from a half-inch away and if you don't wake out of your peaceful sleep, issuing some graceful expletive, you jump backwards at the stage whisper, clobbering your spouse in the face so he might also enjoy this slightly creepy experience.
"Mom"
"Mmmmmmmm," as I mutter into my pillow.
"Mom..Mom...Mom...Mom...Mom!"
"What????!!!!"
"Is it wake-up time?"
At this point, I crack open an eye to see if he is correct and it is "wake-up time." The blurry blinking light says 5:53. Resisting the urge to maim the only heir to the Ludwig name, I roll over and face Drew, lovingly glaring through bleary eyes.
"Drew."
"Yes, Mom?"
"Go...back...to....bed." I drawl each word for emphasis and bury my face back into the pillow.
"But MOM, you said at six zero zero, it was wake-up time!"
Obviously, telling time is the next skill to be addressed.
"No, Mommy said I would come and get you at wake-up time, remember? Now go back to bed."
"But, Mom, I'm not tired!!" (This is issued despite the huge circles underneath his eyes.)
I groan, "Drew, I'm going to the bathroom. When I get out, you're going back to bed, okay?"
"Mom, can I lay in your spot while you're in the bathroom?"
I consent, more out of exhaustion than intelligence and get up. Three minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom to find him snoring quietly, sprawled out across my side of the bed. I stare for a moment and go to the guest room. It is bed thievery in action and this is the real reason for a guest room bed; otherwise you people would sleep on the floor when you come to visit.
Luckily for him, he's really cute.
"Mom"
"Mmmmmmmm," as I mutter into my pillow.
"Mom..Mom...Mom...Mom...Mom!"
"What????!!!!"
"Is it wake-up time?"
At this point, I crack open an eye to see if he is correct and it is "wake-up time." The blurry blinking light says 5:53. Resisting the urge to maim the only heir to the Ludwig name, I roll over and face Drew, lovingly glaring through bleary eyes.
"Drew."
"Yes, Mom?"
"Go...back...to....bed." I drawl each word for emphasis and bury my face back into the pillow.
"But MOM, you said at six zero zero, it was wake-up time!"
Obviously, telling time is the next skill to be addressed.
"No, Mommy said I would come and get you at wake-up time, remember? Now go back to bed."
"But, Mom, I'm not tired!!" (This is issued despite the huge circles underneath his eyes.)
I groan, "Drew, I'm going to the bathroom. When I get out, you're going back to bed, okay?"
"Mom, can I lay in your spot while you're in the bathroom?"
I consent, more out of exhaustion than intelligence and get up. Three minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom to find him snoring quietly, sprawled out across my side of the bed. I stare for a moment and go to the guest room. It is bed thievery in action and this is the real reason for a guest room bed; otherwise you people would sleep on the floor when you come to visit.
Luckily for him, he's really cute.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
The Birthday is Upon Us!
Last night I stayed up super late to prep for today since my sweet boy turns six! I made fifty cupcakes and began marinating the chicken wings for dinner for tomorrow along with the many other things that need accomplishing nightly. Fried chicken is his favorite healthy meal! By 11:00, I was rubbing my bleary eyes and recounting the cupcakes to make sure I'd made enough for the double class party.
This morning, I crept out of bed uber early to make him his favorite breakfast before school: blueberry pancakes and sausage. He slid out of bed, hair rumpled but bright-eyed.
"Is it my birthday, Mom?"
"Yes, baby. Happy birthday!"
"Okay." (Long pause) "Where's my pancakes?"
"I'm making them right now, okay?"
"Okay." (Long pause) "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, buddy."
This morning, I crept out of bed uber early to make him his favorite breakfast before school: blueberry pancakes and sausage. He slid out of bed, hair rumpled but bright-eyed.
"Is it my birthday, Mom?"
"Yes, baby. Happy birthday!"
"Okay." (Long pause) "Where's my pancakes?"
"I'm making them right now, okay?"
"Okay." (Long pause) "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, buddy."
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Welcome to the Circus!
I've often thought that I needed to start a blog for the family so I could share the funny, insane, and simply sweet events that litter each day of our lives. Now that the school year is rushing to a close, I find the writing bug upon me and the time available to at least begin this blog.
The girls are almost sixteen months and I'm amazed each day that we moved from
Yesterday, when I came home, feet-dragging tired, I was greeting by two little pairs of round eyes and Abby's chirpy, "Hi! Hi!" Savannah just nodded her head in consensus and two sets of chubby arms wound around my neck, each jostling the other to get the better hold. I felt much better after a few minutes of cuddles. I think everyone does.
Drew is exploding into the world of six this week and I feel we are not prepared AT ALL. The sheer audacity and brilliance of his internal logic forebodes bars on the windows and highly sophisticated anti-theft devices on our vehicles. A example or two will clarify my point. On Sunday, Drew had difficulty not speaking in his typical exuberantly loud voice during the sacrament meeting. Repeated warnings and a time out had little effect, leaving me no choice. At the end of the meeting, he'd accumulated not one, not two, but four days of grounding from a pleasure he holds most dear, computer games. Despite the wails and whining all the way to the car, I held firm in my punishment. As we began the drive to go and pick Daddy up from the airport, he grew strangely quiet.
"Mom!"
"Yes, Drew?"I replied, more than a little warily.
"Can I play the Monster Truck game on your phone?"
I paused. Was he seriously asking me this? "No, you may not. You are grounded until Thursday, remember?"
"But you just said I was grounded from computer games. You didn't say anything about phone games or TV games!"
I pondered this flaw in my logic and ultimately ruled against him, much to his chagrin.
A better example arose last night of his incredible ability for diversion. I had given him a couple of pieces of hard candy for trying and eating a good bit of a dinner that I know he hadn't really cared for. I instructed him to eat them at the bar over his plate and then he could join us in the living room where Daddy was wrangling his sisters. Not two minutes later, he came sauntering in and wedged himself on the couch between his father and I. After a minute or two, I noticed him chomping away on one candy and twirling the other in his fingers.
"Drew?" I asked in my most sweetly menacing tone. "Why are you in here? I told you to eat your candy in the kitchen at the bar."
A brief moment of panic crossed his face, followed by a wide smile. "But, Mom, I just needed to get some fresh air."
(At this point, Daddy started to choke with laughter and became completely useless in any disciplinary efforts.)
After Daddy recovered himself, he leaned into Drew and said, "Is the air a lot fresher in here than in the kitchen?"
Drew smiled, nodding his head, sucking away at his candy. Then I sent him back to the kitchen.
The girls are almost sixteen months and I'm amazed each day that we moved from
this
to
this!
Yesterday, when I came home, feet-dragging tired, I was greeting by two little pairs of round eyes and Abby's chirpy, "Hi! Hi!" Savannah just nodded her head in consensus and two sets of chubby arms wound around my neck, each jostling the other to get the better hold. I felt much better after a few minutes of cuddles. I think everyone does.
Drew is exploding into the world of six this week and I feel we are not prepared AT ALL. The sheer audacity and brilliance of his internal logic forebodes bars on the windows and highly sophisticated anti-theft devices on our vehicles. A example or two will clarify my point. On Sunday, Drew had difficulty not speaking in his typical exuberantly loud voice during the sacrament meeting. Repeated warnings and a time out had little effect, leaving me no choice. At the end of the meeting, he'd accumulated not one, not two, but four days of grounding from a pleasure he holds most dear, computer games. Despite the wails and whining all the way to the car, I held firm in my punishment. As we began the drive to go and pick Daddy up from the airport, he grew strangely quiet.
"Mom!"
"Yes, Drew?"I replied, more than a little warily.
"Can I play the Monster Truck game on your phone?"
I paused. Was he seriously asking me this? "No, you may not. You are grounded until Thursday, remember?"
"But you just said I was grounded from computer games. You didn't say anything about phone games or TV games!"
I pondered this flaw in my logic and ultimately ruled against him, much to his chagrin.
A better example arose last night of his incredible ability for diversion. I had given him a couple of pieces of hard candy for trying and eating a good bit of a dinner that I know he hadn't really cared for. I instructed him to eat them at the bar over his plate and then he could join us in the living room where Daddy was wrangling his sisters. Not two minutes later, he came sauntering in and wedged himself on the couch between his father and I. After a minute or two, I noticed him chomping away on one candy and twirling the other in his fingers.
"Drew?" I asked in my most sweetly menacing tone. "Why are you in here? I told you to eat your candy in the kitchen at the bar."
A brief moment of panic crossed his face, followed by a wide smile. "But, Mom, I just needed to get some fresh air."
(At this point, Daddy started to choke with laughter and became completely useless in any disciplinary efforts.)
After Daddy recovered himself, he leaned into Drew and said, "Is the air a lot fresher in here than in the kitchen?"
Drew smiled, nodding his head, sucking away at his candy. Then I sent him back to the kitchen.
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