Ninja Moves

It's been a long day. Packing stinks. My back hurts.

So when Ben whipped me in the arm with his goggles while demonstrating his ninja moves a little too close, I felt a very loud "Ouch!" was not only acceptable, but downright necessary.

So, in the end, thank you, Ben. Not only for the goggle-shaped welt on my arm, but for the much-needed excuse to yell loudly in my backyard for all to hear. I feel better now (despite the big welt, of course...)

Commando

Jack started a new trend in our house out of his dislike of wearing underwear. Now that he insists on "going commando," as he tells anyone who will listen, his big brothers think that sounds pretty good. They're suddenly questioning the need for underwear ever. It's quite the debate in our house and I admit, I can't think of many reasons they need to get one more article of clothing dirty every day. I support this movement from a laundry standpoint!

Except maybe with Mitchell. He has very little bottom to hold his pants up so now, instead of showing his underwear all the time, he's showing crack.

Today his buddy said to him, "Mitchell! Why don't you ever wear underwear?!" Mitchell gave him a super chill look and said, "Dude, I'm going commando. Don't you know? It's so much more comfy!"

His buddy got it. Commando is spreading.

The Great Idea

Ben brought two of his buddies home with him from school today - the "playdate" I've been avoiding all year because, well... I prefer my kids to go play at someone else's house and usually succeed in making that happen when the idea of a playdate gets floated by me.

But today I decided, since Ben has been asking all year, I'd kill two birds with one stone and have two boys over at once.

And... it's raining.  Great.  What do I do with my three boys plus two more eight-year-olds for two hours in the house?

I was coming up with nothing in the idea department so I turned to them and asked what they'd like to do together.  Apparently, they had already been discussing and planning because Ben was quick to answer:

"Well, do you have any extra watermelons?  Because we were thinking we could take one up onto the roof and throw it off so we could watch it splat into a million pieces."  All 5 boys then began pleading with me to give them my "extra" watermelon and help them climb out onto the roof to pull off this grand scheme.

In the end, I had to tell them that it just wasn't going to work out because I only have the one watermelon and that was intended for them to eat.  They were a tad disappointed.  But they still ate an entire watermelon and seemed to enjoy just talking about how great it would have been if only mom had remembered to buy two watermelons instead of one.

No Fair!

Mitchell is almost always entertaining.  He's smart.  He's funny.  He's goofy.  He asks rediculous questions.  He hops up and down when he's excited.  He will show even the mailman his treasures if he can trap him for long enough.

Today was no different.  A long boring car ride was spiced up a bit with the musings of Mitchell.  He asked me if I was tired and I answered that I was a little bit.  He offered to trade seats with me so I could rest a little and let him drive - "Mom!  I know how to drive!  I'm serious!  Give me a chance!"

I told him I wasn't quite that tired and also that he wasn't quite big enough to actually drive for real yet.  Thought that settled it.  Nope.

A few minutes later, a Mini Cooper drove by and Mitchell brightened up again: "Mom! That car is definitely smaller than ours!  I could drive that one for sure!  We really need to get one of those!"

He was so serious about the idea of a small car being for smaller people that it made me almost sad to tell him that no, he was still not old enough, even if he felt he was big enough.

Well, he did not care for that answer.  "Well that's not fair to all the kids out there who want to drive!"

That's so true, Mitchell.  Six-year-olds wishing to drive cars really get a tough break in life.

His Favorite Girl

I've spent enough time around kids, mine and other people's, to notice that when it comes to how they feel about the opposite sex, age has nothing to do with it.  Nor does the sex of the child.  They are either all about it or they find it embarrassing or even disgusting.

My boys fall somewhere between embarrassing and disgusting.  It's not that they don't like girls.  Far from it.  Some of Ben and Mitchell's closest friends are girls.  But if anyone even hints at the word "girlfriend," or raises an eyebrow when a girl gets flirty with them, or teases them in any way about girls, they get embarrassed and shush you.  Big time shushing.  And add in some serious eye-rolling too.  You get the picture. Ben more so than Mitchell, probably because Mitchell is just better at ignoring anything he doesn't like.  

But because they have been good-naturedly teased about it and just exposed to the whole idea that a friendship between a girl and a boy might someday have more involved that they don't quite get, they now use that knowledge as just one more thing to torment each other with.  

When they tire of more tried and true forms of pestering that start to loose their irritating effectiveness, they now toss in girlfriend comments.  Any time one of them wants to bug the other, they just claim some girl is his girlfriend and off they go!  

Jack doesn't get what all the fuss is about.  He is just recently even aware that girls are not just boys wearing girlish pink!  But because he listens to everything going on around him and soaks up all his brothers do like a sponge, he's jumping on the girlfriend wagon as well.  But he's all about it!

Riding in the car a couple days ago, he was playing with his phone.   Normally, he is playing a game on it, but this time, he was pretending to talk on it.  He was chatting away and I asked him who he was talking to and he said, "Oh, just my girlfriend."  I asked who his girlfriend was and he said, "Oh mom, it's you of course!  I'm talking to you because you are my girlfriend!  You are my favorite girl so you're my girlfriend."

He might be the sweetest boyfriend I've ever had.  I'll overlook his age and general lack of personal hygiene.  I'll be his girlfriend until he decides to break up with me.  

Girlish

As many of you know, we generally like to do things "dude style" around here. After all, one lone female is not enough to balance things out so I've let go of some of my more... optimistic hopes in raising kids: things like never having pee on the floor, drinking out of cups rather than straight from the carton or faucet, a neat and tidy yard free of all the random sticks from the entire neighborhood, wearing pajamas to bed rather than nothing, and peace and quiet at any time of the day. I'm dealing with those things. I'm adapting. And constantly picking up sticks.

As Jack gets older and smarter, he's picking up on and embracing dude style as well. But he has taken it to a new level by defining its polar opposite: girlish. Anything he suspects his big brothers would frown upon is labeled "girlish," like, "Mom, if I wear those red pants, its ok! It's not girlish!" Or, "I don't want you to snuggle me right now, mom, it's too girlish." A couple days ago when I asked him to talk on the phone to a loved one he ran away yelling, "I can't!! Talking on the phone is too girlish!!"

Good point, Jack. You win that one.

The Message

I am a light sleeper. I can't tune anything out, even in my sleep. So when my kids are out of bed while I'm in mine, they rarely surprise me. I hear their shuffling feet long before I see their sleepy (or not-so-sleepy) faces.

This morning, before the sun came up, I heard jack shuffling toward my room. So when he peaked in, I was ready. What do I mean by "ready?" I had pulled my covers over my head and pretended to be asleep still.

Jack was undeterred. He pulled the covers down and said in my face, "Mom... Wake up sleepyhead... I need to give you a message. I really need to give a message..."

Turns out his message was simply that he wanted to get out of bed and watch cartoons much too early. I was kinda hoping for a more original message. I've actually heard that one before. Quite a few times actually.

Never Too Old to Learn

Jack knows a lot. For example, this morning on the way to school, he informed me that bears really are the best at playing hide and seek. I didn't even know that!

A few minutes later, after some more deep thought, he asked me if I remembered that my keys were broken. When I assured him that I did indeed remember that, he said "you know, all you need is a teeny washing machine to fix those." Again, something I just didn't even know!

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!"

Pure Awesomeness

We like stripes in this family. Well, I like stripes and I buy all the clothes so...

But I must say, Mitchell especially has fully embraced striped clothing. The problem is when he goes overboard.

Never one to let me pick out his clothing for the day, he often comes up with some... eye-boggling ensembles.

This morning, he came downstairs, striped from head to toe. I reminded him of the "stripes rule," which is simply no stripes on top AND bottom, but his response blew my argument away:

"But mom! I look so awesome!!"

It's Saturday. Go for it, Mr Awesome!

Mom's Homework

Now that Mitchell is in Kindergarten, he feels terribly grown up.  So far, he just loves getting his folder out immediately after school and digging out all his papers and gets started on his homework before I even get a chance to see it!  While Ben waits until he eats a snack, goofs around, complains a bit, claims he can't find his folder, goes to the bathroom, changes his shoes, and stares off into space a bit before finally getting down to homework, Mitchell is done before I get his snack ready!  I love the differences in my boys.  Always humorous to me.

Well, yesterday was a busy day and we just didn't have time to get homework done.  So we did it this morning.  I think I may do that more often!  Their focus was better and, for Mitchell, it got him into his hopping up and down, can't contain my ideas and creativity mood.  I love it when he is so amped about something he just can't stop hopping.

After finishing his homework, he immediately got out some paper and pencil and designed a special homework assignment for me.  

At the top was a picture of a jack-o-lantern.

Followed by some "writing/instructions."

Next was a line to write my FULL name, "not just mom, ok mom?  Your REAL name!"

Then a picture of a person, a door, and steps to another door.

The assignment was to write my FULL name, then count how many steps it took to walk from the front door to the family room.  But it didn't end there.  Once I completed that, I had to count how many hops it took.  Then skips.  Then giant steps.  Then baby steps.  Then crawling.  Then backwards steps.  Then  spinning.  

When I finally finished my homework, I got an enormous hug, a huge smile, and a hair bow.  

I think I'm going to have to plan some extra time into my morning if this is going to become a regular thing.  But it would be worth it for the amount of giggling and quality time all four of us spent hopping, skipping, crawling, spinning, and generally acting silly.

Moggy

On our walk to the bus stop this morning, Jack looked up at me from his little bike and casually mentioned, "Mom, it sure is moggy out this morning! It sure is..."

I guess he's right. When it's both muggy and foggy, naturally, you have on your hands a moggy day!

Smart little boy...

The Countdown

Jack has developed an interesting countdown.  First of all, I'm impressed with his ability to count backwards.  Secondly, and more importantly, I am impressed with his... embellishments!  It goes something like this:

10.. 9... 8... 5... 7... cereal... 4... 7... Mitchell... 1... BLAST OFF!!!

Let me tell you, it never gets old.  The more Ben and Mitchell laugh at it, the more encouraged Jack gets and the sillier and crazier the countdown gets.  At some point, it really just looses the ability to be called a countdown anymore and becomes a constant stream of silly words and giggling boys.

And of course, what sort of countdown can be considered complete without a space helmet to make it official.

New Kids on the Block

I have moved many times. Seems like I am forever the new girl. And I have had many neighbors, some more enjoyable than others.

This fall, I find myself in yet another new place, with a whole new set of neighbors. I'm getting pretty good at starting over.

Although I have moved plenty of times, I have to say, not once have I received a welcome gift - until now!

Being the new kid on the block isn't always so bad...