Things we never saw ourselves saying before kids!

It's no secret that we have some shenaniganizers in our crew.
It has had me saying some things I never anticipated saying:

THINGS WE NEVER SAW OURSELVES SAYING BEFORE KIDS!

High Five for NOT peeing in your underwear!

Please put your dress back down. Yes, your underwear are very exciting. no, not everyone wants to see them.

Well, honey, I'm not sure if there are toilets in Heaven.

Scissors are not for cutting toe nails.

No. My half knitted scarf does *not* look more beautiful off the needles. But thank you for showing it to me that way.

No, I don't think we will get a 'peed' snowflake to top our Christmas tree.

I'm not sure that the kitty really liked her bath, honey.

Yes, I am aware that hygiene is important, but my toothbrush is for me, not for the cat. 

So what did you never anticipate having to say BEFORE KIDS?

All the reason in the world to pay full attention

The Negotiator is convinced we need a cat. It's not really likely to happen, but we did end up with a gerbil farm, all because of a field trip to price pet supplies, as an extension of math class, so I guess nothing's impossible.

This morning she was asking for a pen and a paper.

When I asked what she'd like to use it for, she replied "So that I can make a list of all the things we're going to need to get a cat."

"Fair enough." (I've learned to just roll with these things now. Just because we end up with a list of things a cat needs, doesn't mean we'll need a cat right?!)

Since I was currently in the middle of taking care of another task, she started making her list aurally.

"A bed, a litter box, cat food, water, a urinal...."

"A Urinal?!!!"

"No mom. A YARN BALL"!

Serves me for being distracted!

What wonderful things have you misheard your children say lately?


POST SCRIPT: We now have TWO CATS, and a crazy cat lady in the works... and she's making lists about dogs now...

But Daddy Told Me To!

A walk down memory lane if you please.... 

The date is September 6th, 2007.

I had a five year old, and a three year old. Much less busy than now..... To be down to two would be considered a vacation in today's terms.

Let me set the scene: A mother sits, checking e-mail, a guilty pleasure. The baby naps, the eldest is occupied. Bliss.

Alas, her "Mommy Spidey-Sense" goes off! It has been 15 minutes since the last check in with her eldest son. The suspicious quiet raises her from her seat, knowing these things must be investigated.

She is heavily pregnant, and waddles her large self down the stairs, hoping that this trip will have been unneeded.

The Nintendo game has been abandoned. The living room is empty. The paint, last seen on the top of the entertainment unit, taller than a five year old has a right to climb, is missing.

Fear strikes the heart of the mother. She calls to him. Calls that go unanswered.

There is only one floor of the house left to investigate. The basement.

She reaches the bowels of the house, and can hardly take in the carnage she sees before her.

 Paint on every conceivable surface in the basement. 

The washer, dryer, the drywall was that waiting for it's installation.

The walls, TV, dressers, both front and back.
The melamine cupboards, the table, the futon, and the carpet.

 A lid to a large  Rubber Maid container had served as his palate.   Four colours of finger paint, masterfully mixed. 

Stunned, and speechless, she lasts views a few pieces of paper with foot prints on them, before her eyes rest on the culprit, covered heard to toe was covered in multi-coloured  finger paint. He was working on painting a small table. A masterpiece in his eyes.

Words fail, but she collects herself, before she asks him "What were you thinking??!!!" 

His claim in Response? "Daddy told me to paint the table".

A miracle occurs, and the boys life is saved by the mother's sudden impulse usher the boy up stairs, to set him in front of a movie.
She proceeds to call her grandmother, who chuckles and distracts her whilst she spends some time cleaning.
The boys seems to know what is good for him in that moment, and chooses to sit, angelic, in front of the TV.

 Many surfaces turned out okay, but 45 minutes of time spent cleaning was very tiring.

She returns to the main floor, satisfied a long last,  that she has done all that she can do to rid the basement of the pestilent paint.

.He however, is indignant. "What took you so long?"
When there is no response, he continues "Can I have a treat?"

Somehow he still, in his five year old confusion, looked legitimately put out that I was not happy to hop-to and get him is desired treat.

Nervy kid...... and yes..... In case you're wondering he lives to tell the tale. The Grandma who so lovingly gave him thus aforementioned paint as a gift lived also.

Things we never thought we'd say (And then we had kids)

We have some pretty eccentric monkeys in our zoo. There are five of them, which almost never leaves us at a loss for strange goings on at our house. So keeping that in mind, we often have to say things that we never ever imagined would come out of our mouths.
Since someone ought to get a laugh out of it, here are snippets of our 12 years as parents. You might want to put that drink down now, and imagine trying to say this with a straight face:


"Gram, is there a procedure for cleaning a child's eye after he has peed in it?" (Josh was a few days old when he took advantage of an open diaper during a change. Chalk it up to being rookie parents)

"Please don't stand on the refrigerator."

"The contents of your diaper are not for painting with."

"Stop biting my sock!"

"Please don't lick the baby."

"Take the Marshmellow out of your nose."

"Honey, we don't tear the wings off flies and take them for walks. They don't like it."

"No, I'm not going to kiss your butt better".

"Sit up please. Your head is too close to the toilet water."

"Yes, I know you are done with them for the year. No, you may not burn your school books."

"Please don't lick the window."

"Spit out that worm. Wait. How many have you eaten?"

"No running with scissors."

"Hand over the diaper stash."

"You need to put on clothes BEFORE we leave the house. Yes. Underwear too."

"Fine. Oatmeal for a third meal today. Just eat SOMETHING."

"You need to stop drinking the bath water."

"Don't lick my arm" (Are we sensing a theme here?)

(On the umpteenth time being asked about 'what's for dinner')  "Frog legs and Purple Ketchup."

" Get down off the __________ I don't have time in my schedule for an emerg trip today." (Can you tell this one took on many forms?)

"No, I do not want to hold your booger."





Hope you found this fun, and that you add a few of your own at the bottom of this post!

Compassion in the younger years

A forgotten mouse trip hidden away became a spot of fascination of my three year old.

Snap!

Some well deserved tears followed.

I removed the trap from her hand, and verified that she was going to be fine. That didn't stop the noise immediately, though.


In a flood of compassion, her two older sisters rush to her side, kneeling to help her. I was shoo-ed away. Seeing they had the task well in hand, I continued making lunch. Leaving them to their own devices.

The oldest hugged her, and said to the injured party "ah, you poor thing". I was feeling like this was a heart warming moment. I was so proud of them.

Suddenly, a knowing look passed between the two eldest. Something of tremendous importance was about to take place. I could just tell.

Conspiratorially, one said to the other "Let's count her fingers to see if she still has five." There was a stunningly mischieveous look on each of their faces.

Yeah, yeah. Multi-tasking at its' finest. What looked like compassion, had quickly turned into curiosity as to the actual effects of a mouse trap on a hand. A mere science experiment.

Only at my house.

The Eccentricities of a Child (or 'Climbing, and Ranting and Spiels Oh My!'

I don't have to try hard around here to find that people have quirks. Although we try hard as adults to use self control, kids just haven't come that far.
I have a climber in the house, for instance. She is two. She has quite the 'can do' attitude and she uses it to her advantage. She can climb the chairs, counters, entertainment unit, and other various scary things in my house; and so she does. She seems to have absolutely no fear whatsoever. My Dear husband insists we should have her checked for radio-activity, to see if she has had the Spider-Man treatment, as he believes she even has the ability to climb walls. I can not figure out where she gets it from. Mind you, there is that old idea that your kids are payback for what you did to your parents as a child.

I'd like to take this moment to address my parents. What ever I did, I am SOOOOOO sorry.

I'd like for that one to use the self control I've been trying to get to 'take' for quite some time now; until then, I just have to amuse myself with the fact that most of what she does no longer makes my heart threaten to jump right out of my chest, like I see it do to grandma when she observes this particular child.
 I guess in some ways, desensitization is not just a term to use about getting too used to tv violence anymore.

Have you ever watched the total abandonment to which a child submits themselves when they are having a fit? You'd think they'd be embarassed when they lose it, but no, this type of refinement is left for many adults. (I'd say all, but I've been to Wal-Mart lately.....just saying, you find all kinds there.)

It's just like fireworks, seeing a child go off..... they change colours, make noise, and some throw themselves in the air. Then they come down in a less than spectacular fashion. Yup. It's fun while it lasts, and the power expelled in the process is unbelieveable.
And somehow, as we grow, we figure out that we'd better tone it down. Fireworks become sparklers; at least I'm hoping so.......

Perhaps it is overexposure to my child's eccentricities, but I find myself occasionally tuning out when my little professor is yet again telling me everything about his video games.
 Perhaps I should hang on my oldest childs' third monologue of the day on the topic of Luigi's Mansion and all of the pictures of the specific characters he has spent all day drawing, and how he's gonna frame them all and hang in his room; I'd have to say that the conversation all too often is completely onesided and ends up reminding me of the teacher in highschool that was teaching a subject you were just convinced you were never gonna need again. You tried desperately to look like you were paying attention..... but you were miles away.
I'm not even sure that the things I was doing while tuning the boy out were even interesting; dishes, laundry, or just trying to make the kid do his school work.

Sometimes I wonder how much of these quirks I'm gonna miss one day. There is the occasional gem in the monologue about 'all things Nintendo',  or you get a glimpse of what makes your firecracker 'tick', or you even get the unusual rare moment in your climber when she is just sitting quietly in your lap, looking like she's got no ambitions to scale any large piece of furniture, and spontaeneously looks you in the eye and in her own garbled two year old way says "A wove you mommee". It warms the heart and makes all the hard moments worth it.

Regular self-control will come; but today is not that day......

"I'm gonna burn my books!"

Wow, this is totally the kind of thing that you want to hear from a homeschooled child......lol

Before it sounds a little too disturbing, let me put it in a bit of perspective for you: John has spent his grade one year working on his books, and as all kids do, enjoying some subjects more than others.....

We knew that he was getting to the end of his grade one year, and we decided that we were going to set goals to finish all of the subjects by certain dates, to keep him motivated to complete his year.
The end of all of this would result in "THE WEEK OF WII" (Does that sound wonderful to anyone but a male child?),
Hopefully this affords me the time to do some long overdue mark recording, and issuing of report cards.

So we've spent the last week ending the subjects on the agreed upon dates, and we have come to today.... the date that the last subject, reading, is finished.
Not the child's favourite subject for the record. And being the child who looks most like me, you'd think he'd have inherited my love for reading...... no, not so much.
He's fine with listening to a story read out loud, but hand the boy a book and you've got a fight on your hands....

Being all boy- he appreciates movies, and Wii...... lots of Wii.

So, He finished reading today while I was occupied putting children down for naps,.... and while I am upstairs, I hear him yell "I'm gonna burn all my books!"
Well, of course I suspect what is going on, and make my way down the stairs just to make sure he's not serious, cause knowing this kid, he know EXACTLY where the gas stove is and HOW to turn it on. And I'm thinking after all the grief we got over this reading curriculum this year he might just do it.

Kind of hard to prove the kid did the work if it somehow goes up in smoke.

Now, sombody ought to get a laugh out of this, cause it's not likely to be me: I waddle my pregnant self down the stairs to observe my child doing a dance in the living room and chanting something about being done school for the year now; I ask him to see the book, and have to notify him that he has three more questions left........and that under no circumstances was he allowed to set fire to his books, cause I need to keep them......Ohhhhh...... that didn't go over too well......

So not to be outdone, the kid does the three questions and saunters over to the trash can and slam dunks the book in the can..... Only to be rescued by mom from the left-over chinese food red sauce recently left there .... and only barely so..... and yes.... the answers were quite in tact and ready for marking.

So, the week of Wii begins.....Congratulations Bee.

The Logic of a Three Year Old.

Okay, so I was taking a couple of minutes today to rest my aching back- via water, in the only private place in my house (relatively speaking, of course).... hopefully I haven't lost you now with any mental images, because I think it'll be worth following me on this one. At least momentarily.

And you would think that in such a place only the most important and urgent of interruptions would be fool enough to break the medium level quiet I was beginning to enjoy.

And so it was: There was an interruption. Something of such large importance that it simply could not wait until the end. Absolutely could not wait until I was satisfied. Certainly too important to for that.

My Three year old bursts into the bathroom. She is holding a long silver string of miniature tree garland, and she has the message of the century for me:

I'm gonna Kill it! The monster in my room; I'm gonna kill it with a necklace...... Cause I'm SUPER PIPPY!
.......oh...... I made a fart.  (looking behind her in minor embarassment)

Now, this was news indeed. Because she has been telling me about monsters in her room for quite some time..... perhaps somewhere in her mind she had been ruminating on the exact solution to her very big problem. But clearly, she had seen the answer, and everyone must know...... or at least the person for whom it was least convenient at the time.

She was so proud of herself, and very confident in the fact that she was Super Pippy! and that  the salvation had been found. I wonder sometimes if we shouldn't be more like a three year old.....

For the record, not the part about bursting in on private moments, but the part about having belief.
She saw the solution and was ready to throw herself headlong into it all.

I wonder if we have enough belief in God that when a solution is provided to the demons that we face,  we are able to fully give ourselves to it.

I know that I find that there are problems that I come up against that seem too big, and sometimes they scare me, just like her monster was front and center for her. I'd like to believe that God has made me all that I need to be in order to handle those situaitons. Sometimes, though, like in the Bible with the Man that said "Lord I believe; Help my unbelief!"
 I have to ackowledge that I'd be better off to have the faith of a three year old, ......but  hopefully not the flatulence.

Where do babies come from? A parent's squeamish moment.

Did you ever notice in the say, 3-9 year old crowd of children that quite often you will be blindsisded by a question with a..... er.... ummmm delicate subject matter?

It's not unusual for my oldest to choose to ask one of these questions, and then some simple answer will suffice, and I will breathe a sigh of relief that more of the sensitive conversation can happen another day..... perhaps when daddy happens to be the one with him <grin>

So, we've had the conversation about babies being in a mommy's tummy. Other times he wanted to know how the baby moved, and there was a conversation about the bag of waters, how it protects a baby...... and how they swim.
Then, eventaully there was the conversation about how when the baby comes, the bag of water breaks...... and a lady goes into 'something' called labour.

Well it's been a few months since we've had one of these conversations and I haven't really got much of a clue what he thinks about in between..... Clearly there has been thought though. Because the other day we got an oddball question. RIGHT out of left field.

"When the baby's bag of water breaks and the lady goes into labour, are you allowed to eat?"

"Well that depends on whether you are at the hospital or at home during labour" (Sometimes this sort of odd answer will suffice)
"Oh?" (Here's me thinking... oh man, this isn't one of those times we're not gonna be happy with one answer, is it?)
"Why would it matter?"

"Well, Happy sometimes the doctors aren't happy if you eat during labour."

"But WHY would it matter?" (Oh why, oh why, must be discuss the possibility of evacuation during labour today?! <yikes> )

After telling him why, he got this really wide-eyed look on his face, and it occurred to him how the baby gets out...... AND FROM WHERE! This was somewhat humourous to him, and a little on the 'shock and awe' side for our conversations.

Thank the LORD that was enough to discourage him from asking how the baby got in there in the first place.... or maybe it just hasn't occurred to him to ask yet....

Don't worry, one day he'll take me by surprise and ask me..... Don't you worry about that. I NEVER get away from these things.

Squealing little girls

Anyone got any idea why little girls squeal?

I don't know.... Guess I'm not the Squealing type. Don't remember ever being the squealing type, although if I was I am sure that someone that remembers my childhood will be happy to correct me.

I have squealing little girls..... ear splitting, glass shattering kind of Squeally girls.
They are currently running around my living room. And Squealling..... (Just in case that wasn't apparent enough <grin>)

Now, that would be annoying enough, but 'squealing little girls' take on 'migraine residue' in the match of the day. Migraine hit yesterday. Unfortunately my Good friend Advil Liqui-Gels are not strong enough to be a good corner man..... forgive the Boxing terminology..... Trying to fight off a massive headache just brings it out in me.

Squeally little girls are fighting dirty today..... See, I was given the hope of an easy day..... My 2 year old was very quiet this morning..... VERY QUIET..... Laying on the floor- fever of 102- can't be bothered to pick my head up- quiet...... Very unusual..... VERY! Kid kissed the canvas.

So I thought I was in for an easy day, with my main noise maker out of the ring.

Then she starts making noise..... dreadful noise.....  Which prompted the addition of a rectal thermometer to the fight. Then the fight got intense. Funny how a lethergic two year old finds a little spare energy for just long enough to protest that kind of thermometer.

So, mommy decided that Pippy could have a round of Tylenol. Then, about 45 minutes later, the running and squealling began... Happy noise instead of the really unhappy kind. Right now, I can't tell if one is worse than the other.

Amazing how much improvement you see in a sick child with a single dose of tylenol.

So Sarah and Michaela are currently running round the living room making that noise.
The sucker punch of the match is John- who decided that provoking them is his sole job today. If there is one thing John's good at, it's poop disturbing, but don't tell him I said that.
I bet you didn't know little boys can squeal too.... Doesn't help a migraine much.

I don't know who will throw in the towel first, and if it's me, I'm not sure I'll tell you....

You want me to take what?!

I have an almost three year old among my crew. Three year olds are definitely an odd breed. Eccentric, Unpredictable, Never the same way two days in a row.

My three year old still happens to nap, and go to bed a night..... which I'm sure that all people would think is a good thing. So we usually have a bit of a routine... and then we let her do her thing- and hope that she sleeps.

So, recently we had been having an odd request from our small child...... but not until the bed time routine was done and we sat down on the couch, finally thinking that we were going to get some 'down time' for the day. I can imagine you thinking that it's the standard "I have to pee/drink/brush my teeth/give the gerbil a hug.

Nope......

The first night it happened it surprised me just like I think it's gonna surprise you:

"I have a dljwouedo, you have to come take it!

Say what?

We started the parental refrain of 'Go to bed'.

Not to be deterred this game went on for about 15 mintues or so, and she just wouldn't quit.

Neither one of us knew what she was talking about, so Mark goes up the stairs, listens to what she has to say and then comes down the stairs.
Holding a Domino.

She had a Domino in her room and she absolutely would not go to bed until it was removed from her bedroom...

Yeah, here's me shaking my head... and we can not figure out what was so special about this domino that it absolutely had to leave her room.
This is the child that has about 25 'babies' in her room and all of the diaperbags, bottles, clothes and what not that you can possibly imagine. They are strewn all over her floor. Most days you can hardly find it.
And yet, she noticed one domino. One White domino. In the midst of all of the chaos, one domino made it impossible for her to go to bed. But only after we had sat down to relax.

Can we say 'Princess and the pea'?!

We've had this happen quite a few times since then..... a domino here, a half a plastic easter egg there....
It used to be that she was missing one of her '100 sheep' and left the rest until she had returned the missing 'baby' to the rest of them in her room.... and agin how she noticed one missing from the pile, I'll never know.
I still can't figure it out. It's almost like she takes a mental stock of the mess, like studying a "where's Waldo' picture and then says oops... that's what's out of place.... There's Waldo!

Don't think I've ever seen anything like it. Except for John and his animation discrimination..... but THAT is a story for another day.

What exactly were you thinking?

What exactly were you thinking?!!!?

 I'm sure we've all thought it at one point or another. Someone does something that comes out of left field, or that doesn't follow the conventional way of doing things and then we stop in bewilderment, and try like crazy to understand what brought a person to a course of action. We are often left shaking our head.

I have four small children and I have this thought on an almost daily basis.... What were you thinking when you picked up your baby sister around the neck like a rag doll? What line of logic made you decide to tromp down the street in nothing but a pair shorts and your dad's dress shoes? What were you thinking when you decided to put stickers on every surface in my kitchen? What made you think that jumping off the couch into a pile of hard toys was somehow going to end well? Were you really thinking that after you painted my basement with four colours of finger paint that I'd accept your explanation that "Daddy told you to paint the basement"?

I come to the conclusion that kids do weird things. They do them often in my house. They do it in an attempt to take in the world and experience it for all it's worth. They thrive on excitement. They have a wonder for living and learning that can't be rivalled, and their line of logic is not neat and tidy. So, I'm afraid that in my house the ducks will never likely all be in a row. I'll never expect perfect kids, but then, my life will never be boring, either.

I can only hope that while they are still kids, that I can use the time I have to the best of my ability. I'll try to cause them to stop and think before they act. Maybe I'll get a little practise in on stopping to think before I react too.

See, I guess we can learn from other people's weird thoughts..... it's just not always the lesson we thought.