This is war.

5:30

 

The veggies are chopped and sauteing on the stove.  I turn down the heat, put the lid on (as I want them to soften up a bit), and head out to pick some green onions out of the garden. 

 

(Seems like such a nice start to the story doesn't it?  You can almost smell the beginnings of the Italian feast I was preparing my family for dinner.) 

 

Before I step out I hear Ty: "Mom!  Can you come start my water?"  I run upstairs, turn on the water for Ty's shower, then out to the garage where I slipped out of my comfy old-man-houseshoe-wanna-be shoes (love these shoes!) and into my rubber rain boots.  I walk past the basil I planted day before yesterday.  It's looking good.  It's been raining non-stop since I planted them, so I was hoping they hadn't drowned, they hadn't.  On to the other side of the house to get the onions.  I harvest my onions and while I was there took a peek at the garlic planted right beside the onions.  It was looking good to. Pleased I was. Back around and in through the garage with three green onions. Upon walking in I immediately notice the smell.  It was the veggies.  Not the aroma I'd hoped to walk into. It was more of a... well, burnt sort of smell. 

 

Crud.

 

I quickly tended to the pan.  We'll still eat them.  I wouldn't serve them to company, mind you, but my people are used to eating "blacked" food.  Especially broccoli.  I specialize in blackened broccoli.

 

After getting the veggies under control, I begin to chop the onions.  Then I look out the window.  It was Austin.   Austin.  Out the window.  In the mud.  It's rained so much around here Jack told his Dad that he thought there was going to be a flood.

 

I'm sure he's not wearing shoes.  Two-year-olds never remember to put on shoes before they go outside.  Come to think of it, none of the kids around here remember to put on shoes before going outside.  He needs to come in.  I throw the onions in the pan, wipe off my hands, then walk around to the back door to call him in.

 

Oh.  I was wrong.  He did remember shoes.

 

My shoes.

 

My man house shoes.

 

My favorite shoes.



 

 

 

Yes, those shoes.

Muddy?  Wet? 
Yes.

Dripping wet.

 

Thanks for that Austin.

I get him in, wash his feet, then back to the kitchen.

 

My onion has burnt.

 

Pasta goes in the pot.

 

I set the timer for the pasta (yes, looking for a little credit here).  I'm about to start on the alfredo sauce when I hear a scream well, maybe more a shriek.  No, probably just screaming.  At first I can't figure out where it's coming from or who is doing it.  It's not a normal sound anyone around here makes.  Most screams are playful.  This one wasn't.  I think the best way I could describe it was a  "scream bloody murder" scream.  It was Ty.  Upstairs in the shower.  I sprint up there again.  He's gotten soap in his eyes.  I think it was only the second time in his life this has happened, so it really threw him for a loop.

 

I get his eyes rinsed out and dried off and wrapped in a towel.  I tell him he's got to handle himself cause I'm in the middle of cooking.  He comes down few minutes later.  His poor eyes were all red.

 

 

 

The pasta (angel hair) which only needed to cook 2 minutes is now beyond done.

 

 

As if on cue, Brady toddles up to me.  He grabs my legs and cries. 

 

"Jack!!  Come get your brother!"  Jack pretends not to hear.

  

Based on the above evidence I conclude that the children are trying to ruin dinner.  Every night it's the same thing.  I think they get together first thing in the morning and plan their attack on dinner.  I can just hear this mornings meeting:

 

Jack: 

 

"Alright, here's the plan:

Ty, you ask to get a shower as soon as you see Mom step into the kitchen. 

Austin,  go outside in whatever non-waterproof shoes you can find. 

Ty, after Austin gets captured see what else you can do to cause a commotion.  I'll send Brady in at the end and he'll cry and fuss I'm sure of it."

 

Why? 

 

Why would they do this?  Seems like a lot of trouble just to eat a bad dinner.  Well, I'll tell you why.  Three words:  Pizza and Mac-and-cheese

 

It's not too far fetched.  I'm pretty sure they'd do anything to get Mom to give up on cooking and feed them a diet strictly of carbs and cheese.

 

Let me tell you something boys.  It ain't gonna work.  If you continue to attack me when cooking dinner, I'll be forced to retaliate.  No, I don't mean turn on a TV show while I cook.  I mean strap you in your car seats in the living room till the food's ready.

 

Think I'm kidding?

 

Try me.

 

Maybe that sounded better in your head

This week two different families on our street invited us over in the evening to dine with them them.

For real.

I consider that one of the acts that will get you mad props with Jesus. Inviting a "single" mom and her three loud, ravenous children into your home puts you on the short list for a seat at Jesus' right hand. It's up there with moving to Tanzania and starting an orphanage, dying for your faith and doing the drama for a retreat.

There are few who attempt it.

That's why it was such a special thing to me for my neighbors to open their homes up to us.

The first dinner went pretty well (I'm talking about behavior).

The second?

Not really.

It was partly my fault. (Who am I kidding. I'm the mom. Everything is my fault.) I had not considered the fact that we had missed naps and had a pretty stimulating day already.

We eat, then the boys head upstairs to play in their friend's room.

I stay down and visit with the grown ups till about 7:15 or 7:30, then decide it's probably time to go home, thinking: "If we leave now, we can avoid meltdowns."

Wrong.

My friend and I head upstairs to have the kids pick up toys.

We arrive in the boys room and it is, as we expected, covered in toys.

"Alright boys, time to clean up."

It appeared no one heard the command.

I bend down to my two and put my hand gently on their backs. "Jack, Ty, I need you two to help clean up the toys."

Ty acted like he might pick up a couple things. He headed under the loft bed, out of sight. I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt and see if he was going to clean up that area.

Jack, without looking up says, "I don't wanna clean up."

hmm... he must have thought I was posing a question. I bend down, put my mouth next to his ear to clear things up a little bit: "You can either clean up toys or you will get a spanking when we get home. You choose now. Clean up or spanking."

I sat back up and began to put the toys in baskets.

Jack sat up a little straighter, paused for thought then turned to look me directly in the eyes.

He then responded with:

"Mom, I want you to choose to quit talking or I'm gunna spank you."

hmm.

Now what would you do here? I had to decide quickly. After all I'd just been given a choice.

Instinctively, I wanted to slap him in his sassy mouth, but that ultimately would not produce the desired result (result being a respectful, Christ-following adult).

So I just looked him back in the eye and said, "Do you think that's a good idea?"

He continues his gaze, shakes his head and answers: "Nope."

"You're right." I reply.

I go about my business cleaning the room. Jack never decides to help. I thought it best not to challenge Ty and run the risk of having another child tell me exactly how he felt.

We fumble out the door after finally getting socks, shoes, and coats on three very tired, fussy children.

We cross the icy road, carefully step over the mounds of slick snow and walk into the house.

I shut the door...

...use your imagination.

Toy Story 3

****Spoiler Alert!***** Don't read this post if you havn't seen the movie and plan on seeing it.


Toy Story --The ultimate survival tale.

It began with Toy Story (1) or the original, the plot revolved around Woody, the cowboy doll, fighting to maintain his status as the favorite toy, the head honcho and basically the boss. Toy Story 2 was a rescue mission to retrieve the kidnapped Woody. Then as most of you know, Toy Story 3 brought the challenge of surviving "Sunnyside," the daycare governed by a ruthless teddy bear with a style not unlike Adolph Hitler.

The whole family plus two more adult friends went last night and saw the movie. Mike and I hadn't been to the movies since Oceans Eleven, ok, not that long ago, but close. This was Jack's first ever trip to a movie theater. A place where Mom and Dad had no control over the volume or the fast forward button. Not only that, but this was also Ty's first trip to the movie theater, and of course, Austin's too.

Our outing, like the movie, was a story of survival.

As soon as the lights dimmed, the volume came up and Jack's hands flew up to cover his ears. They remained there most of the movie.

Ty made it through the sound check and even through the first preview. The second, not so much. It was a new cartoon which included the Disney version of the story of Rapunzel's --the girl with the long hair who was locked in a tower. The hair freaked Ty out and I mean FREAKED. HIM. OUT. He was in Mike's lap at the time and started screaming and crawling all over Mike like a monkey trying to get away. He'd look back at the screen and scream, he'd try to cover his ears, but couldn't do that while holding on for dear life. It took about 5 seconds for us to realized we weren't going to calm him down. Mike headed for the exit with Ty perched on his head. They were gone for about 10 minutes before I handed Austin to my friend Ashten and headed out to check on the guys. They were in the hall. Ty refused to come back in the theater. It took Mike and I both another 10 minutes before he finally agreed to take a peek at the screen. We'd open the door, turn the corner to where we could see about 1/16 of the screen. Something startling would happen and we'd have to run back out, wait 3 minutes and try it again. Just like Toy Story 2 they begin the movie with Andy (I guess, I missed most of this) playing with the toys. We watch the action through Andy's imagination as things blow up, trains fall over cliffs and monkeys attack. Way to scare the kids before it even starts...

We got settled back in our seats and had a good 30 minutes of uneventful movie watching.

Then... the toys arrived at the scary daycare. That's when it got good again (the Ellises go to the movie plot). Ashten, Mike and I are playing pass the crying baby as Austin and Ty switch places. We try not to disturb Jack whose arms were probably getting pretty tired at this point. As the movie continues they toys find themselves in a pretty sticky mess. Upon escaping the daycare the villain finds them and they end up in the dumpster --right as the garbage truck comes. I am whispering to Ty that the toys are going to be fine. I know this, not because I've seen the movie already but because it's a Disney movie, and the hero never dies in a Disney movie. That and I heard they were going to come out with a Toy Story 4. Things go from bad to worse to worser to worsest. With each new impossible to escape scenario I am assuring Ty that everyone is going to be fine. I start to doubt myself. I'm going to be really mad at Disney if these toys get taken out and I've lied to my kid the whole movie. Then. Yeah, it's great. They end up in an incinerator with no way out. No way at all. There is no "emergency switch off button," no "just kidding it was all a dream" possibility. Nothing. The toys stare at their fate --impending doom. They begin to hold hands and decide to ride it out together. Heck, I've given up all hope at this point too. I start to think about what I'm going to tell Ty. Do I explain death or should I tell him it's just a movie and not real anyway. I don't know. All I know is that it's over. Over. The toys' lives, my child's trust in my word. It's over. I'm guessing the 4th instalment of Toy Story will be titled: "Toy Story 4: The New Class"

Then out of nowhere. "The Claw" comes down operated by three of your favorite squeak toys, and saves the day.

Whew.

I'm so relieved I start to cry. Not really. I didn't almost cry till the scene when Andy's mom had to say goodbye to Andy as he drove away for college.

Are you kidding me? We make it through the incinerator and now they've sprung a "little boy we've all grown up with is moving away from his Mommy" scene on us. Don't they know that mothers of little boys will be sitting there in the theater with... THEIR LITTLE BOYS?

Why do they hate us?

As I fight the sniffles I gently caress Jack's hair. I lean down and kiss Ty. Great. Thanks Toy Story. All this drama in the theater and then they go and make me get all emotional as they wind up the show. Wow.

Thank goodness for the 3-D glasses that can hide any tears.

Needing a Wash

I've got a list of things I want to get cleaned during this special, once-in-a-lifetime chapter of my life where I have a nanny/cook/errand girl/maid also known as Hannah.

I want the pantry organized, I want my maternity clothes dealt with, I want the boys clothes gone through and I want the van detailed.

I've been itching to get outside and work. I'm just like my mother. The sunshine and fresh air is therapeutic. I needed to do something to help get over this little "funk" I'm in since Mike left. I've been feeling unmotivated and blah.

Being pregnant with two toddlers and driving a trashed out minivan can put you in a funk all by itself --without Dad having to leave.

The only thing I can fix about that is the trashed out part of the minivan.

So Hannah and I set to work. She worked the inside widows while I (and my little "helpers") did the outside.

I'm scrubbing away on the passenger side door having already directed the boys to stay away from the hose and to not spill the bucket of soapy water.

I glance up to see Jack standing about 5 feet away with the spray nozzle aiming right at me. He's looking up at me with a look I've never seen from him before. It was serious. As if he'd just been transferred to the front lines in a battle. I was the enemy and he was the hero. I put my hand up toward him to signal "stop" or "don't do that". Never dreaming that he would spray me. --I really had no idea he would pull the trigger.

But his little mind was in the zone. The war zone. No amount of pleading for mercy from me was going to affect his determination to carry out his duty. He had to.

He did.

He shot me square in the heart. The nozzel was set on "shower" so he also managed to wet my face and entire torso.

Anger welled up in me as I quickly tried to process what happened, figure out how to express my displeasure and decide how to punish.

"Ahh... Jack!!! Stop that!! You got me all wet!!! ... Go sit on the porch!!!"

That's what I came up with.

It was as if you could see Jack being transported back to Montana Street --instantly.

His eyes changed from the "soldier" look to an "oh my gosh what have I done" look.

He put down the hose and walked over to the porch.

He didn't say anything.

Ty hearing the tone in my voice decided it would be the safest for him to comply with whatever instructions I'd just given Jack, so he went over and squatted beside Jack.

You know what he says right after Hannah took these pictures?

I think he'd been sitting there on the porch trying to come up with an explanation for when I asked him, "Why did you do that?"

He couldn't tell me about the war he'd been fighting. I'd never buy it.

He couldn't tell me, "I'm just a boy, this is what we do," cause he doesn't yet know it.

So he just blurts out:

"I thought you needed a wash."

Crazy

Mike and I have lived oh... 8 or 9 different places in the past 7 years. It seems that most places we live, the people geographically closest are the neighbors we know the least.

Did that make since? I am experiencing brain loss so if you don't understand what I'm saying it's not you, it's me. In the last post I spelled the word "wear" (as in you wear clothes) "ware". And I knew that was wrong. I thought and I thought and couldn't come up with the right way to spell it. I tried "wair" and that looked even worse so I just stuck with "ware." whatever. Ya'll are sharp. I thought you'd figure it out.

So anyway, about my neighbors.

It's possible they think I'm crazy.

More than likely they think I'm crazy.


I'd think I was crazy.

Take our current duplex mates for example, every now and then when the kids are asleep and we are resting on the couch (next to the stairs) we hear their footsteps. That's all, their footsteps. They are a little younger than Mike and me, have no kids and a couple of dogs. They are pretty quiet.


We...

...are not quiet.

I've asked "J" (neighbor) if he can hear us, he told me no. I can't imagine that being correct.

He probably just didn't want to have to ever admit that he thought there might be child abuse in the house and failed to report it.

I'd go into all the ways we make noise, but if you have ever been around preschoolers, you can imagine. It's loud. I discipline. Children cry. I sometimes use an "outside voice" when trying to get through to the kids. Jack jumps. Ty falls down stairs. Mike plays guitar hero. Dogs bark.

I'm just always too embarrassed about what our neighbors might think of us already to invite them over. "Oh, no... we're not going over there. We'll stay on our safer side of the building." Is probably what they'd say.


Here, I'll give you a story from this week:


Our yard needs mowing. It's got dry grass that is a little scraggly looking and needs to be trimmed for the winter. I decide I'll let the boys ride their vehicles across the street on the sidewalk while I mow. I can watch them just fine and it will only take me about 5 minutes to be done. The street is not busy.


So, Jack gets on his helmet and then his tricycle and heads across the street. He turns left and starts to ride. I stay back and help Ty get his Cozy Coupe across. By the time Ty and I make it to the sidewalk, Jack is at the next to last house on our street.

I holler for him to turn around now.

He doesn't hear.


I watch to see if he will turn around on the driveway of the last house.

He doesn't.

The only thing I can do now is run his direction till I'm in shooting (I mean shouting) range.

So I do. Remember I'm pregnant? Just checking.

I jog/sprint down to the end of the street. Jack's turned the corner and is heading around the block.

I yell again.

He hears this time.

"Jack, come back!"

He says something back to me that was not able to make out. Then he turns his head away from me and...

keeps riding.

I look back down the street toward my house. I see Ty.

He's in the middle of the street --bawling.

I've run off and left him. Ty's worst nightmare (he's a bit of a mama's boy).

So here's our status:

Jack's speeding toward the second busiest street on base, Ty is in the middle of our street, crying. I'm standing halfway between both of them, and "J", my neighbor is on his roof putting up Christmas decorations.

I'm sure he saw it all.

Crazy?

You be the judge.

Biting

Jack had to come hang out with me tonight at church because he had a little misunderstanding with a nursery worker.

Ok. What really happened? He bit her.

I told him he could not go to Cubbies until he learned to act right.

So. We packed up his bag and he came and sat on the floor, in the corner of our room where I was teaching... he sat there for about an hour. He did pretty good. Stayed in one spot and was quiet.

I told him AFTER church we would go apologize to his teacher (the one he bit). I wanted to give him some time to think about it.

He was pretty somber for the rest of the evening until we got in the car. Then he started talking to me. He said:

"Mommy, if you say 'stop biting the people, I will stop biting them.'

If you say, 'Stop biting the cars, I will stop biting.'

If you say, 'Stop biting Ty, I won't bite him anymore.'

If you say, 'Stop biting the teamwork, I will stop biting it.'

If you say, 'Stop biting the airplanes, I will stop!'

Is that cool Mommy?"

-every word is true.

I told him that I preferred if he would just not bite anything but his food --period.

Teamwork? Where did he get that?


On a serious note, it is really cool to see the change of heart he has. He's really a very sweet boy. Sometimes he just loses it.

Guess what's missing -part II

I'm having toddlers over tomorrow.

This means that I deep clean items that I wouldn't normally scower if any of you come over. (Any of you meaning people who can read.)

Today while the boys were at MDO I took out the "pee catching bowl" from Jack's toilet and washed it in the dishwasher.




Then the boys came home....

You already know the rest of the story don't you?

Yep.

Me: "Jack, I want you to go potty so we can keep your underwear dry."

I unfasten Jack's pants.

Jack disappears into the bathroom.

Jack: "Oh no! (moments of silence) Mommy! My pants got wet."


I then realized what had happened.

I'll bet you can put the rest together, Jack came out with the back of his jeans soaked.

I got the poor kid new clothes.

If you are a mother of toddlers who is coming over tomorrow. Don't worry. The potty bowl is clean and hasn't even been used today.

Enjoy.

April first

I can't believe it.

Today. April Fools day. My Favorite holiday (tied with the 4th of July).

And I have no voice.

Seriously.

Yesterday I was a little raspy.

Today I can only whisper.

Really..... today of all days.... the day I live for....

I had big plans for today, now what?

Someone needs to call Grandpa and tell him that I haven't forgotten the date. Tell him that I'd call to visit but he wouldn't be able to hear me. (Grandpa and I have a 2 decade long history of April Fools day interactions.) Someone break the news to him. I don't think he'll believe you, but it's true.

And it's lame.

You'd better believe I'm sitting here with a mug of hot tea. I'm about to go gargle some saltwater, eat a raw garlic and drink some apple cider vinegar. Any other "fix-alls" that I'm missing? Mom? Aunt Nancy?

I'll keep you posted on my status.

Seriously though, someone call Grandpa.

BED TIME

Two word:

BED TIME

Dang.

What a stinkin' difficult day.

I think we really ought to observe the Sabbath on Saturday instead of Sunday.

Because Sundays are DEFINITELY the Devil's day not the Lord's day. At least they are at my house.

I'm going to give you a brief rundown of the day.
(Mike, do not call care.com back and tell them to send someone out .... promise?)

It starts at 7:15. -I can't complain about that.

We eat, dress and leave for church.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Just regular WORK.
(see, I don't even observe the Sabbath the way it is supposed to be done anyway.)

We get to church and I:

• open the van doors,
• get Jack out of his seat,
• instruct him to get on the sidewalk,
• throw my purse over my shoulder,
• place the diaper bag over my shoulder,
• put Ty on my hip
• pick up my Bible
  

yes, I look like a pack mule -except that I am wearing a cute skirt and kitten heels.

My Bible is unzipped and when I pick it up, special papers that have been stored in there since the last decade, FLY out (very windy day).

Hmm.

Lovely.

Onward we go. Jack walks toward the nursery then decides he'd rather do other things. (whose idea was "free will" anyway?) Now Jack is fussing, I need to get Ty out of my arms to address this Jack issue.

I hand Ty into Dodie's outstretched arms (his wonderful Sunday school teacher).
As Dodie brings him in toward her body, he throws his head back and SMACK!

Pops her on the cheekbone with the back of his head.

The sound it made echoed down the hallway.

If you are my real friend then you are cringing, not laughing.

Are you?

I wasn't even sure how to react to Ty giving an adult a black eye. That hadn't come up yet in my two years, nine months and nine days (but whose counting) of parenting.

I don't even remember what happened to Jack. Maybe some other nursery worker convinced him to go to class.

I just stood their looking at Dodie thinking:

"I... I... I don't even know what to say. Maybe I shouldn't say anything.... she's in pain.... people in pain don't want to know how sorry you are. They just want to stop hurting. So much for Ty's biggest advocate in the nursery. Dodie was one of three friends who came to Ty's birthday party. Next year we aren't going to have to make as much cake...."

She needed ice. I told her I would get it. She insisted that she'd get it, probably thought I'd done enough already. I walked to the kitchen with her anyway...

Good grief.

Word travels fast. By the time I got to the education building and up the stairs, people already knew of Ty's assault on Dodie.

Seriously?

Yes.

And we all thought South Side women don't gossip...

At least now I have a good "bad kid" story for the next retreat.

The day doesn't end here. You might as well go get a cup of coffee and come back.

After church we were invited out with a large group of my friends. Sounds good. I felt like we could pull it off because a sweet young friend of mine had offered to help with the kids -and she is good with kids.

We get to Rosa's, order our food, sit down. No part of that was easy. The boys are hungry. Ty prefers not to sit in a highchair. Jack wanted a drink 5 minutes ago and I can't find a lid that fits our cup. Nice.

Our order comes. Jack is content for a few minutes with his burrito. Ty, not so much. He screams. The other "better" moms are looking at me. They look with pity in their eyes. I shrug and try not to look too embarrassed.

Ty screams off and on (mostly on) for the next 10 minutes. I finally give up and give him the Dr. Pepper. First time he's had carbonation. He liked it.

So the relaxing part of lunch looked like this:
Ty drinking through a pinched straw.
Jack eating a very messy burrito.
Becca holding Ty, pinching the straw, and nibbling on a soft taco.

When the Dr. Pepper was gone, so were we.

I don't think the whole table had gotten their food when we left.

I left in defeat. There was no hiding it. Had I waited it out another 10 minutes, I might have been able to fool some people. Didn't happen.

I buckled the boys up in their car seats, started the engine, and wouldn't you know it, those sweet little angels were asleep.

I was hungry. I thought about picking up some fast food.
I didn't.
We got home. I carefully, slowly, gently pick up Ty to transport him to his bed...
and
can you guess what is coming?

He wakes up.

I put him in his room to keep him quiet while I bring Jack up to my bed.

I carefully, slowly, gently pick up Jack.....

He wakes up.


Where do I go to check myself in? Do I need to drive myself to a mental hospital or will they pick you up?


Tonight they had corporate worship at church.

I feel like I need to confess, I wasn't too interested in hearing about the Old Testament feasts from the Jewish guy.

My main motivation for attending tonight was

two words:

FREE CHILDCARE

like ring a round the rosie

When we moved into our home last summer Hannah came and helped me decorate. We came up with this "FAN-C" design to display some pictures and take up some space on a huge wall.

See how cute it is? It is supposed to resemble an eye chart at a doctor's office.

(Ya know, since there is an E at the top

-stands for Ellis).

Today we changed things up a bit. Now it's just well...

shorter.






I think he feels bad about it. My first thought was that he used the broom to knock them down (notice the broom in the background, it wasn't there before this happened). But when I ask him if the broom knocked them down or if Jack did, he says it was Jack.







When I came down the stairs Ty was sitting in the middle of this picture, surrounded by sharp shards of glass. He wasn't cut. (Thank you Jesus!) Proof that there are angles watching over my family.





Jack was wishing those angels would protect him from what he imagined would inevitably follow this scene.

Looks like he was scared... (look closely at his crotch)

I almost didn't put this picture on here because of his "accident" but I did.

Hope he's not too embarrassed if he sees this when he is older (sorry Jack).

-

And just where was his mother while this was going on?

-Upstairs trying to decide how to wear her hair.

-

We were about to head out to some friend's house for dinner.

-

Later we were talking about how this happened and he just said:

"like ring around the rosie, Mommy"

Do you get it?

And she spanked them all soundly and sent them to bed

There was an old woman

Who lived in a shoe,

She had so many children

She knew not what to do.

So she gave them some broth

Without any bread,

And whipped them all soundly,

And sent them to bed.

Poor Old Mother Hubbard, I think I know what happened inside the shoe that day. It was probably about two weeks into a deployment and she and her however many children were not settled into the new routine yet.

Probably the children had been fussy, discontent, irritable, possibly teething and just plain ugly to her and the other children in the shoe.

I'll bet she had lost her spanking rod in the van and hadn't given out any spankings the day before. Her children probably thought she was "all talk."

Old Mother Hubbard's two-year-old was probably the worst. He, lets just call him "Jack", was usually a very kind child but today wouldn't share his trains with the other children. He was probably poking the other children in the head with his finger. I'm sure he wasn't listening well. Either ignoring poor Mother Hubbard, or if he did acknowledge that he heard her, responded with a loud "NOOOO M'ammmm" when he was told to do something.

Her one-year-old, I'll bet he was on a tangent too. Besides his irritability with teething, he was probably just learning how to walk and experimenting with this new found Independence. I'd imagine that he was wanting to play with the other children, but getting frustrated that everything wasn't going just exactly his way. -Mother Hubbard was probably like that as a child.

I'll bet she marched those children to the upstairs part of the shoe and told them to go to sleep and not to get out of bed until they were ready to be nice boys.

Mother Hubbard probably wouldn't have reacted exactly the way she did if she had had a break in the last 384 hours. She wasn't thinking all the way straight at this point. She would probably have given the children some bread with their broth. Everyone knows that it is much easier for children to eat broth when they have some bread to sop it up.

At least, that's how I imagine it might have happened.

Stinky kids

Stinky Pete.

I've been thinking a lot about this guy lately.

We've had a stomach bug at our house, now don't everyone start feeling sorry for me. It hasn't been that bad. Jack only threw up twice -in bed (very contained) and Ty hasn't thrown up at all.

The symptoms were:

Day 1 & 2 : Vomit

Day 2 -4: Diarrhea

Day 5- PRESENT: GAS!

Yeah, it's potent.

I'm not going to explain the odor, you can all imagine, but I am going to try to get you to understand that FREQUENCY of it.

All the "Stinkin" time!

We stayed home all day Monday. By the end of the day I was thinking that surely my carbon monoxide detectors were going to think something horrible had happened to all the oxygen in the house.

I got light headed at one point.

It wasn't just one boy. It was two. They were tag teaming it.

Maybe they were playing "War" and I wasn't informed. Why did both kids have to choose to be the machine gun opperator???

Wow.

My eyes are watering as I remember.

I just kept thinking... that stuff has got to come out at some point... I hope I am prepared when it does! I don't want another book store poop story to put on here.

I won't keep you in suspense much longer. I know most of you have already done the math and are thinking... that was Monday.... today is Wednesday night.... wonder if he passed it yet....

He did. (Jack I'm talking about)

At mother's day out. Score Becca! Yes! One for me! Negative one for Miss Amy.

Poor Miss Amy. She is Jack's beloved MDO teacher.

And... she's pregnant.

No pregnant women should ever have to change another child's diarreah blow-out. -I'm buying her lunch tomorrow (FYI)

Amy calls me in a bit of a panic.

"Becca, this is Amy from MDO.... (pause).... there's been a bit of a disaster up here."

-My first thought is of a story I read in Reader's Digest months ago where a shooter comes into a child's daycare.

Amy:
"Jack has just had a blow-out all over the place. He got poop all over his pants, shirt, socks, and I was washing his underware out and it got sucked down the toilet! We don't have any clothes for him, so he's just standing here naked and all the kids are looking at him!"

Uhh....

Ok... good... no shooter.

Bad... Jack's standing in the middle of his classroom naked.

I felt like there had to be something that could be done to keep Jack from standing in the middle of the room naked with all the other kids looking at him. But I was still recovering from my shooter thought and couldn't suggest anything. I just said, "Oh, ok. I'll be right there."

I rushed home, grabbed some clothes and headed back to MDO. Amy put Jack in a pull up.

Whew. Glad he had something on.

We dressed him and let him go to the playground since that's where the other kids were. I guess the poop made an impact on the other kids. Jack's friend Noelle came up to me and said:

"Jack went poo-poo everywhere."

Oh, yeah, thanks Noelle.

Poor Miss Amy.

Come Lord Jesus, Come

This morning....

I remember it as if it were yesterday.

The day started off with such potential: a Friday, nothing on our schedule, the balloon festival gearing up, two happy kids. I even awoke to the sound of giggles as the boys played in their room. Jack was making faces and doing tricks for Ty. Ty just sat there in his bed laughing.

The world looked up. Who knows, maybe our stock would go up today.

As I made breakfast (opened a package of poptarts), I began to formulate a plan for the day.

Every morning for the last... I don't even know how long it's been, I have had a terrible back ache upon waking up. It eventually works itself out throughout the day. Emily, my sis, told me about a new pillow that is supposed to help.

So here are my plans for the morning:
9:15 -toddler time at Chick'fil'a with Miss Darla from the library
10:00 -return a book to the Mall bookstore and while there let Jack play with the train table. This would also be during Ty's morning nap so how perfect is that?
10:45 ish -walk down to Penny's and buy that new pillow.
11:15 -home to make lunch and prepare for naps.

I was particularly excited about the book store portion of our trip. Ty would go to sleep in the stroller, Jack would play trains and I would relax in the easy chair and lose myself in a good book.... it's good to dream isn't it?

We arrive at Chick'fil'a on time and Jack plays for a little while before story time. All of a sudden he looks up to me and says "poo-poo Mommy."

"Jack, do you need to go potty?"

"Potty Mommy"

"Ok, Jack, let's go."

I pick up Ty, reach down to hold Jack's hand and opened the heavy door to go out of the play area at Chick'fil'a. -yeah, kindof sounded like I have three hands doesn't it? I'm sort-of a super hero like that...

On the way to the bathroom I am trying to figure out how this will work. I've never experienced this senerio before. Holding a baby, taking a two-year-old to the bathroom --in public.

Well, we make it work. Turns out all Jack needed to do was pee.

Crisis averted.

Story time was fun, Jack still is scared of the big cow that makes an appearance near the end of the meeting. We loaded up back in the minivan for our next stop: the bookstore and trains.

I'm getting a little excited at this point for I feel like I've come up with a fool-proof plan that only improved since I just took Jack on a potty break.

Arrive at the mall.

Buckle into the stroller.

Make the returns.

Proceed to the train table. (Just to let you know what a good planner I am, I brought two of our own trains just in case there weren't any out at the table. ;-) Smart aren't I?

Well, perfect. Jack started playing peacefully, I pick up Ty who snuggles into my arms and gets ready for his nap.

The phone rings. It's Mike!!! Yay, a great time to talk. No distractions. Happy children. All I need now is a Latte.

Then all of a sudden, I hear those words that will imediately send panic racing through the mind of a mother who has recently potty trained her child but isn't smart enough to put him i pull-ups when going out in public.

"Poo-poo Mommy"

"Uh, Mike, I think I need to go, Jack just said he has to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, ok Honey, I'll just talk to you in a few days."

"No Mike, can you call me back today or tomorrow? I'd like to talk to you"

"Sure, when do you want me to call?"

"Maybe at 3:00 or 4:00 or even 5:00..."

The conversation continues as I explain how much I'd like to talk to him, and we try to plan a good time when he doesn't have to wake up in the middle of the night to call me. He's such a good husband cause he'd do it. He'd wake up in the middle of the night if that was the best time for me to talk.

We are interupted by that sweet little voice repeating himself: "poo-poo Mommy". This time he assumed the stance.

I hung up on my poor husband.

I sensed the urgency in Jack's voice.

I grabbed him up, stood him in the stroller, wheeled around and headed toward the restroom. I thought I was too late, but felt that some salvaging could be done if we immediately got to a toilet.



If you can't handle gross things, stop reading now.



I take off the pants, yep, too late. Lift Jack up, put him on the toilet. Smearing all the way.

I exhale. Now, for damage control.

Stay calm. This could happen to anyone. But when this happens to them, most people will have a diaper bag complete with wipes and a change of clothes.

I didn't.

I look for paper towels. There aren't any, only one of those blow-dryer machines. I look for toiletpaper. "Great," I thought, "I picked the stall without much toilet paper."

I walk around to the other stall and guess what. I very small bit of paper in that one.

Exhale. Stay calm.

I get some paper and wipe up Jack's leg, then the floor, then the seat. I put the paper in the other toilet and flush.

Ty freaks.

Now add a screeming baby to the equation.

I continue to clean up what I can, conserving the TP and wondering if I should take Jack home naked or in dirty underware.

I decide to wash out his underware. Gross. In a normal situation this is my least favorite job of mothering.

I wash them out in the other toilet. Every time I flush Ty gets even more upset. One word kept coming to mind over and over again.

"Crap."

There wasn't a more fitting word to discribe the situation.

I all of a sudden realize that this is a public restroom and someone else could come in at any moment. I look over to see if there is a lock on the restroom door (like in the movies when someone needs bathroom privacy). There isn't.

I wash the underware in the sink now. Just my luck, it's a slow drainer.

Hum...

Back to Jack, he's done on the toilet. I take him down and put his yellow croc's back on. Ty's still screeming.

I'm back to the sink washing underware. I hear a stall door slam. The last thing I need is him playing in the toilet.

"Jack, get out of there! Ja...!"

I whirl around to see Jack standing there looking at me."

Nope, Jack didn't slam the door.... It was some poor unsuspecting sole who had no idea what had been going on in here.

Well, I finish washing the underware, the woman leaves. I tell Jack that he is going to have to put on wet underware. He thinks it's cold, but doesn't fight me.

I feel like the situation is now under control. Whew! Ok, now what's the next step. I have learned that mothering is full of decision making situations. This was a big one.

Go home? Go back to the trains w/o pants? Go buy some shorts and underware and continue on with the original plan cause... nothing worse can happen than has already happened. My son is wearing underware that has just been dipped in toilet water from a PUBLIC RESTROOM! I agree with myself that nothing else worse can happen and I am determined to have my "latte moment."

I head out the door and into the mall straight for sears. We buy underware and a cute pair of plaid shorts (next summer's size). Next to the Sears restroom to put on the new clothes then back to the bookstore.

I have my "latte moment" after I put Ty to sleep and back into his stroller. Actually I wouldn't glorify it enough to call it a "moment". It was more like I just collapsed into the chair and didn't move for a good 10 minutes.

30 minutes later. We left. I bought my pillow and am looking forward to a good nights sleep tonight.