Sunday: The Day of Unrest

 (I wrote this almost exactly a year ago.  I realize, after reading it, that perhaps I sound like I don't like my kids!  This just isn't true!  The truth is:  I like my kids BETTER on Saturday!  :)  The best thing about finding this long-buried post?  This picture of Owen hoisting Cora up like a scarecrow on a pole.)

Ah.....Sunday.  

The day of rest.  

The day to contemplate sacred things, search your soul, concentrate on rejuvenating for the work week ahead.  

It is a day of introspective reading, a leisurely stroll or a quiet nap.  It includes meaningful conversations and enjoying a peaceful family meal.  Sunday means a day of worship where you fill up your spirit with important truths and gain better understanding.

Yeah.  Well...

In my world, Sunday is opposite day.

Opposite from everything that is mentioned above.  Opposite from peaceful, restful, rejuvenating, leisurely or quiet.  

I read with longing about the couple that wakes up when their internal clock says it is time.  NOT when a 3 year old clock wakes you up by chirping, "I want some bress-sis" or a baby rattling her crib from the closet 8 feet away.


I hear that many people on the planet enjoy a nice cup of coffee (OJ, if it were me) and read the paper or do a crossword puzzle.  I drink the dregs of milk from the bottom of somebody's cereal bowl and dispense syrup to the ravenous horde.


There are khaki and navy pants to crease. (Which is Jay's particular part of the chaos.  That man knows how to iron!)  And button-up shirts to rebutton 127 times because one, two or three of the boys didn't quite match up the holes correctly.


And then there are the church socks.  Don't get me started on the church socks. They must be co-habitating with my bobby pins and Jay's collar stays.

Church shoes get pulled out from behind flip-flops and Drew has a fight with the slippery laces of his shoes.  Now he's reduced to tears and I'm scowling and thanking my lucky stars that Owen and Kai have slip-on church shoes.

There are bed-heads to tame and bald heads to adorn.

By the time my make-up is applied and we're all in the car, I'm sweating like a pig and my make-up has gone south.  I've yelled no less than 27 times, "Hurry up!  I don't want to be late!" which is met with exactly 8 eyeballs staring blankly back.

After I've lugged my hooligans and a 15 pound bag of "quiet books" into the church, we find Jay (who has had early morning meetings) and settle in a pew long enough for 12 people but somehow all of the kids end up leaning, sitting or resting on me and Jay.  I spend the next hour trying to stop my baby from yanking out my hair, pulling down my shirt and grabbing at my dangly earrings.  (Accessories are a thing of the past, I'm afraid.)  

I've got Kai putting his feet up on my lap, wrinkling my skirt, when I realize in horror that I'm trying to bring the ancient Chinese custom of foot binding to my own little corner of the world......Kai's shoes are easily a size and a half too small and his feet are crammed into those suckers.  

I blurt out the few words that I remember from the hymn we're singing because while my hands are holding a squirmy baby, they can't be holding the hymnal.

Partaking of the Sacrament bread and water is a perilous affair where baby hands are grabbing for the water and grubby boy hands are grabbing for a fistful of bread.  Owen still plugs his nose when the bread is near and Kai makes the tiny cup of water seem like he is gulping down a gallon.  

After his noisy swallows, he loudly says, "Ahhhh! Refreshing!"


At least someone is refreshed.

The speakers are certainly talking about important things.  Things that my soul needs and desires to hear.  But this is what I hear.....


"charity..."  (and then Owen has to go to the bathroom.)
"the pioneers..."  (now I'm thinking that we need to have a lesson on how to teach a 3 year old to whisper.)
"service..."  (Drew complains, "Owen is bothering me!"  Add the 8 year old to the whispering lesson.)
"prayer..."  (now Cora needs a diaper change.)


"Amen."


Well, at least I got "charity, the pioneers, service and prayer."  
Now I'm all agitated and frustrated and wondering when church will be like it used to be.....pre-kids.  I drop Drew and Owen off in their classes and Kai rushes into nursery.  Jay has Cora in his class and I'm doing my calling as a counselor in the Primary Presidency, trying desperately to keep 57 kids reverent while teaching them about keeping their bodies and minds clean and pure.

Just as I take a breather in the hallway I hear a familiar cry coming from the nursery.  Out pops the nursery leader with a tearful Kai in tow.  

"I think he's got something stuck in his nose," he says.  

Kai pulls his finger out of his nostril and says, "I can't get it out."  

I peer into the dark abyss of his nostril and see nothing up there.  I haul him to the bathroom and wonder how you do the Heimlich maneuver on a kid's nose.  Kai blows hard into a Kleenex 3 or 4 times and out shoots a Cheerio.  Kai is relieved and goes back into nursery to finish his snack.  Hopefully this time the food will be placed in the correct orifice.

Now it is time to go home, change clothes, remind the boys that their clothes go on hangers not on the floor of their closet, scrounge up something good to eat and focus on remembering the importance of the day.

Peace, be still.

Winnie the....

(I wrote this in late 2010!!!  Kai's vocabulary has evolved since then.  Now he says, "What the!" for things that surprise/confuse/baffle him.  I've chosen to pick my battles.  At least he doesn't fill in the typical last word of the phrase.)

Poo.  


There is just no getting around it in this household.  It isn't something that is acceptable to banter back and forth about in the world outside my home.  But inside my four humble walls?  There is plenty of poo discussion.  No amount of punishing, pleading, prodding or even pinching can get Kai to stop saying "poo."
He says it when he's happy, frustrated, angry or defiant.  For Kai, no occasion is complete without the inclusion of his favorite word. 

And so goes my life.  My high heels are getting dusty in the back of my closet.  My nails haven't seen a decent coat of polish since '09 and my feet would scare off even the oldest goat in the barn.  I'm going to have to haul my own hoof trimmer to the nail salon by the time I get around for a pedicure.  (Come to think of it, I'll just go out to Jay's uncle's farm and have the ferrier put horseshoes on my feet.  The boys would like that better than a pair of heels any day!)
I can't recall the last time I had a stimulating conversation about politics or music or literature.  In fact, I joined a book club that focuses on the classics to remind myself that there is life outside of hearing the word "poo" 2,153 times a day.  When I got 75 pages into the book and discovered that I had no idea what I had read, and more disturbing....didn't care, I dropped out in shame.  Hence, the loss of more valuable braincells.


But I sure have conversed about poo with a 2 year old.  When Kai is feeling particularly snarky and doesn't want to give his mother a break, our dialogue goes something like this...

"Kai, what do you want for snack?"

"Poo!"

"Kai, you HAVE to tell me what you want.

"Poo." (said with a wicked grin)

"String cheese or crackers?  Which one?"

"Poo." (even bigger grin)

"That wasn't one of the choices, little boy!  Now just answer me right now or you'll get nothing to eat and you'll be hungry for a long long time!!!! AND I WON'T EVEN CARE!"  (I didn't say that last part.  But I thought it, though.)

"O-Kaaaay!  I want string cheese.....

And poo."

This Is What Your Face Might Look Like....

Have you ever wondered what would happen to you if you decided to lick an ornamental pepper plant in your neighbor's garden?

I now have 2 little boys that can give you a clue.

This is what your face might look like.....

For 45 minutes..... (I failed to capture the rolling on the ground bit.)

And this is what your face might look like when you are hoping that your Mom would make the burning go away instead of sticking a camera in your face on fire.

Apparently Clones are NOT impervious to the burn of an ornamental pepper plant.

(As a side note, I googled to see if the plant was poisonous so I didn't have to call Poison Control....AGAIN.)

And this is what your face might look like when you are almost 2 years old and your mother asks you to "smile" while your brothers are sweating profusely and drinking milk by the gallon.

This is what your face might look like when pandemonium is taking place in the house with your brothers' face-on-fire incident.  Smug.

 And this is what your face might look like when you need a nap.

House Guests

We have a few nightly visitors in our house that make the rounds from room to room.  Unlike Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Elf on the shelf, these visitors aren't seasonal.  These guys are a nightly occurrence.

They've developed quite the reputation for being mischief makers of one kind or another.  Generally speaking, they aren't welcome in the boys' rooms, but they make themselves at home despite the protestations.

Their presence isn't known until the morning light streams through the windows across sleeping heads lying on pillows.  After the first flutter of eyelids, the first smacking of lips and the gentle stretch into a sitting position, the guests have left evidence of their visit.  When little boys wander down for breakfast we start the inspection to see how our visitor's handiwork looks on sleepy heads.

The report is typically the same each day.  Ralph the Midnight Hairdresser worked his magic on all the boys' hair, making architectural hair-do's that rival Frank Lloyd Wright.

Sammy the Squirrel generally skips Drew's hair because it is so thick, but delights in the fine hair of Kai and Owen.  Sammy builds his nest in their corn silk hair which requires some patience with the brush to unbuild.

Last night, however, I was informed that Ralph the Midnight Hairdresser strayed from his brush and comb and Sammy took a break from his construction business.

Kai came wandering into our room (just minutes after Cora decided that her crib in the closet wasn't going to be suitable for her slumber).  He told me very matter-of-factly, "There is something in my room that took my blanket."

He wasn't particularly afraid or distraught.  I asked him what it was and he said, "I can't remember what it is called."

Since our bed was presently occupied by the girl-from-the-closet, Jay took him back to his room, found his beloved blanket (which he clutched so tightly, nothing would ever be able to extricate it from his fists), and stayed with him until he fell back to sleep.

Fast forward to 7:00 a.m. (a measly few hours later), and Kai is back in my room and ready for the day.  With his blanket trailing behind him I take the opportunity to ask him about his night.

"Kai, you have your blanket back!!  Do you remember who took it in the middle of the night?"

"Yes," he replies.  "It was the guy who does my hair."

Well, Ralph the Midnight Hairdresser might need to stick to hair and leave blanket stealing to the experts.  He didn't make a very covert thief.

And a short while later, while assisting Kai in his bed making responsibility, I was informed of Sammy the Squirrel's new nocturnal occupation.

"Kai!  What happened to your bed?  The blanket is all pushed in a heap and the sheets are coming untucked!"

"Oh!", he exclaims as the thought hits him for the first time.  "It was Sammy making a nest!"

I can't wait to see what mischief the Tooth Fairy makes when Kai starts losing teeth! 

Merry Christmas 2011 in July 2012

I wrote this back in December.  You know, when the events actually happened, when we were hiding the "Elf on the Shelf" in a different place every night and we thought we needed to buy a bigger home just so we could figure out a new place to hide him.  (Along with the magic of the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and now the Elf of the Shelf, the boys STILL BELIEVE!  And we've gotten really good at justifiable parental deceit.)  So..here is my attempt at describing our holiday in rhyme.


'Twas the night before Christmas and throughout the townhouse
Every hooligan was stirring, and there'd better be no mouse!
The stockings were hung on the half-wall with care,
Because two of the holders were the worse for wear.

The children were riled up and didn't want to go to bed
With visions of Lego's and Transformers in their heads.
We'd made Christmas cookies for Santa to eat
Even put out an apple for the Reindeer's treat.


Our Christmas Eve dinner we'd already had,
And the simplicity of that meal wasn't really that bad.
Hot soup and warm bread were devoured mighty quick
In hopes that soon they might sneak a glimpse of St. Nick.

The village was glowing and casting a light
It makes the boys wish they could sleep there for the night.
Christmas Eve jammies were adorned with great care
The first year for pink ones made everyone stare!


A new tradition was started with a funny contraption
Granny's old juicer was used for extraction
Of apples and pears into lovely fresh juice
For our own Christmas cider it produced was profuse!

A letter was written to Santa with care
By a boy who was uncharacteristically willing to share
His room and his bed if that was the need
For Kai to bunk in so that they all could read...


A Christmas story, a snowman and Santa's little elf
Were read with great gusto and put back on the shelf.
That elf had been wandering the house for some days
The naughty behavior not escaping his gaze.



The elf on the shelf had been this way and that
On candlesticks, mirrors, upside down by his hat.
It was time for his exit, on Santa's great sleigh
I couldn't figure out where to place him one single more day!



We'd had a Home Evening with lessons and songs
The topic was Jesus, and how He did no wrong.
His birth was the reason we celebrated that night
The boys needed to know and get the story just right.


After eating and singing and eating some more
Christmas Eve was just starting to become a chore.
And now that the kids were wound tight as a drum
We said GO TO SLEEP OR ELSE SANTA WON'T COME!


The night was still early for parents like us
Who now had to wrap presents to fill a small bus.
An assembly line of scissors and papers and tape
No telling how long this process would take!


We did it with pleasure and smiles on our faces
Secretly wishing that we could switch places
With the small ones who were sleeping with awe and intrigue
They still were so little and their hearts still believed.

We listened intently for any small sound
Those boys would find any excuse to come down!
We snuck up the stairs and to our great delight
Kai, Owen and Drew were asleep for the night!


Cora was nestled all snug in her bed
Not knowing the treasures and wonders ahead.
Christmas day was soon nearing and she would find out
What all the hubbub and excitement was about.


We opened our presents and stockings and such
Feeling so thankful we'd been given so much.
We ate Christmas danish and candy galore
Not knowing if we'd be able to eat anymore.

Dressed in our finest we went to church, to sing
Knowing that was the least we could do for our King.
A feeling of peace made me feel just right
And I could gratefully say.....Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Christmas Morning

Santa let them tug on his beard.

Santa giving a lecture about being good (we like this guy).

She wasn't impressed.

He guessed Kai's age.  He must be Santa!

Santa made them pinky swear to mind their Mom and Dad.  (We REALLY like this guy!)

Cora's Photoshoot

The winter doldrums descended on our house and settled in for an extended stay.  The limited hours of sunlight did nothing for my energy or ability to take pictures.  So I have limited photographic evidence that we've done anything the past few months beyond a few grainy photographs of Christmas morning, dark/blurry pics of Cora's first Birthday and other random, uninspired photos.  (And if photos are the barometer of our existence, then I'm just a figment of the imagination.)


Now that Daylight Saving's Time has come (and stolen a precious hour of my sleep) and we have more daylight, I have a goal.  I've dusted off my camera and decided to do little photoshoots with my shortlings. 


I started with "our baby" (as the boys still call her, emphasis on the our).  She was dressed in her Sunday, pre-lunch finery so I thought it was a perfect time to capture her beautiful baby blues. 

Then she saw her brothers eating and she couldn't concentrate.

So I moved her to the living room and took off her sweater that was making her too hot (evidenced by the red cheeks). 
 

Then she decided to get a little sassy......

  
Stole a glance at one of her brothers......

 Exhibited some great feats of flexibility, strength and finger-pointing.....

Laughed at her Daddy making a fool of himself behind the camera.....
 

Gave us one last good shot of her bloomers before terminating our photoshoot and going off to fling her food from her highchair and finger paint with her yogurt.
 

 So if that was any indication of how my photoshoot project is going to go, it is only downhill from there......Kai is next.
Wish me luck.