Executions

Ben and Mitchell are buds.  Best buds.  If asked who their best friends are, they both claim each other are.  They usually play wonderfully together and come up with some pretty fantastically imaginative games to play.  Sometimes Jack is invited to join.  Sometimes not.

All it takes to mess up this relationship though is the addition of a third kid.  Suddenly, sides are being taken.  Good guy and bad guy roles get handed out.  Competitions begin.  Battle lines are drawn.

The boys had their adorable cousin staying with them all week and I began to here a lot about exclusions.  Two of them would gang up on the other one and loyalties were constantly changing.  I just couldn't keep up anymore and banished them to the basement to figure it out.

It did begin to get funny though as Mitchell tried to assimilate the new word "exclusion" into his vocabulary.  He kept coming to me, defeated, complaining that once again, Ben had executed him.  Poor kid.  He was executed repeatedly over the week.

Bilingual

Jacks gloworm plays frere jacques and he loves to sing along to it (and make me stay in bed with him until gloworm cycles through his loop of 5 or 6 songs until it gets back to that one so he can sing it again for me.  And then again.  And then one LAST time...)

When he asked what the words meant and I explained it was in French, he seemed to be satisfied, even pleased with that explanation.

But now he thinks he speaks French.  Every time he doesn't understand what someone says to him he says, "Are you talking in French?" And just the other day, his brain got ahead of his words and he started to jumble up his sentence.  He stopped talking, laughed, and said, "Oh mom... Did you hear me talking in French?"

Am I a Mean Mom?

I saw a commercial today that made me wonder: am I a mean mom?

Here's the commercial:

A smiling mom (we'll call her "nothing better to do") is happily washing her windows.

A little kid (we'll call her "stinker") comes running up to the window and puts her grubby little hands all over the newly cleaned window.

Nothing Better To Do then laughs and bends down and snuggles and kisses Stinker as if she has really made her morning and the picture fades away.

What?! Is it just me, or is that just plain crazy? Please tell me I am not the only one who does not find Stinker adorable. Things turn out a bit differently for my little stinkers when they pull a stunt like that.

Little Things

Do you ever find yourself dwelling on the unpleasantries in your life? Life's... rough sometimes. It would be unwise and just plain crazy to pretend otherwise.

Lately, I have been having trouble finding humor. Finding my inner silly head (yes, I am allowed to use the term "silly head" because I am a mom and I have three young kids. So there.) The difficult parts of life have a way of casting a shadow over the very real and very present joy in life. It happens.

But this morning, as I was munching on my tiny snack pack of peanuts on the airplane, (holy smokes, those bags are shrinking! I literally had 6 peanuts in mine!) a memory came to mind that made me smile and actually, despite the smallness of it, refocused me.

Here's the memory: when I was a kid, any time my dad would travel, he'd come home with his bag full of treasures. Know what those treasures were? Airplane snack bags! I think maybe a special barf bag was presented as awesome occasionally too. I can just imagine him snagging all the barf bags from the seats in front of him and schmoozing the flight attendant out of four extra bags of pretzels and peanuts. And then he'd probably keep her there chatting until there was an emergency. Like, someone waving a gun or having a baby emergency. (He likes to talk...)

But when he'd come home and whip those pretzels and peanuts out of his bag, one for each of us, i thought it was the greatest thing. My kids would think, "No peanuts! They say at school that peanuts can KILL you! And why are you handing me my snack? I don't really even love pretzels and I thought you said you had a surprise for me...")

So thank you for the pretzel snack packs, Dad, but also for making them special somehow and for thinking of your family while chatting up the flight attendant. And thank you for the smile and sigh I just gave that was noticeable enough that the lady in the seat next to me who has been on the verge of a panic attack all flight just stopped her heavy breathing and squirming and asking me if the clouds look awefully weird to me too to ask me what I was smiling about.

PS: It just occurred to me that one time, my brother actually got a recorder (those annoying plastic flutes that I actually took lessons on in school one year) instead of peanuts... How did the rest of us not rise up in rebellion and beat him up with his recorder when he got that when we got pretzels... Siblings? Help me out on this one?

Little Things

Do you ever find yourself dwelling on the unpleasantries in your life? Life's... rough sometimes. It would be unwise and just plain crazy to pretend otherwise.

Lately, I have been having trouble finding humor. Finding my inner silly head (yes, I am allowed to use the term "silly head" because I am a mom and I have three young kids. So there.) The difficult parts of life have a way of casting a shadow over the very real and very present joy in life. It happens.

But this morning, as I was munching on my tiny snack pack of peanuts on the airplane, (holy smokes, those bags are shrinking! I literally had 6 peanuts in mine!) a memory came to mind that made me smile and actually, despite the smallness of it, refocused me.

Here's the memory: when I was a kid, any time my dad would travel, he'd come home with his bag full of treasures. Know what those treasures were? Airplane snack bags! I think maybe a special barf bag was presented as awesome occasionally too. I can just imagine him snagging all the barf bags from the seats in front of him and schmoozing the flight attendant out of four extra bags of pretzels and peanuts. And then he'd probably keep her there chatting until there was an emergency. Like, someone waving a gun or having a baby emergency. (He likes to talk...)

But when he'd come home and whip those pretzels and peanuts out of his bag, one for each of us, i thought it was the greatest thing. My kids would think, "No peanuts! They say at school that peanuts can KILL you! And why are you handing me my snack? I don't really even love pretzels and I thought you said you had a surprise for me...")

So thank you for the pretzel snack packs, Dad, but also for making them special somehow and for thinking of your family while chatting up the flight attendant. And thank you for the smile and sigh I just gave that was noticeable enough that the lady in the seat next to me who has been on the verge of a panic attack all flight just stopped her heavy breathing and squirming and asking me if the clouds look awefully weird to me too to ask me what I was smiling about.

PS: It just occurred to me that one time, my brother actually got a recorder (those annoying plastic flutes that I actually took lessons on in school one year) instead of peanuts... How did the rest of us not rise up in rebellion and beat him up with his recorder when he got that when we got pretzels... Siblings? Help me out on this one?

To Pee or Not to Pee

When given the choice on an airplane, I am always conflicted over which seat to choose. I do love the window seat. I absolutely love the too side of clouds. And even though I have never successfully picked out my home when flying over it at landing, I still enjoy the challenge of trying. Having a wall to lay my head against is also a plus - lessens the likelihood of an open mouth, bobbing head, terribly I restful cat nap.

On the other hand, what do I do when I have to pee? I know what the obvious answer is: say "excuse me but could you let me out?"

But there is always seemingly insurmountable reasons why I just can't make myself do that! The business man is out cold. I can't wake him and use the word "pee" at the same time!

Of the old lady that takes 5 minutes just to get everything situated just right before she can move.

Or the book reader with his tray table surface COMPLETELY covered with electronic devices, drinks, snacks, etc. c'mon, where is all that stuff going to go!

So I usually end up either dehydrated out of refusal to have to face this dreaded situation, or else sitting with a bladder stretched to bursting, silently and fervently praying that person between me and relief will think of a reason to get out if their seat on their own.

What about you? Do you hold it or just barge right through the barriers?

Coke Breath

Jack was sitting on my lap after his nap today (one of my favorite times of day; love that warm, snuggly little guy...)

Anyways, we were just chatting a bit when he suddenly burped.  With a surprised look on his face, he said, "Mom! It tastes like Coke!  Can you smell my Coke breath?"

He must have overdone it on my Coke this afternoon because the burps just kept coming.  Each time, he'd stop and say, "I had another Coke breath mom!"