What's Been Going On

That's not a question.  I just wanted to show you a bit of what's been going on.  First, the small fry:

These are potatoes that they decided to bake in small loaf pans.  They had a great time playing "put" with them.  Put the potatoes in the pans, put them out.  Put them in the oven, put them out.  I thought their daddy was in the kitchen with them, so I was pretty surprised to walk in and see them sitting on the cold oven door like this.  Gotta be more careful with keeping the oven off-limits, I see.

And now the Angel:

She was sitting in a rounded lid to an electric griddle, spinning around and around while the babies baked their potato loaves.

And then I found this downstairs:

Isn't it nice when the brothers can foosball so nicely together?  But wait, check out the lower-left corner of the picture.  Yes, that is a boy handcuffed to the pool table.  I found out later that he had asked to be cuffed that way, as he was trying a Houdini-like stunt.  But it makes such a great picture!

And this is what has been going on at our house today.

About Traveling With Potty-Trainers

Being a mother is not easy.  Let me say that again.  Being a mother.  Is. Not. Easy. But I get better at it as I go along.  Some of the things which troubled me as a young mother have become easier.  There are an awful lot of things I wish I'd known when I started.  I can't count the number of times I've kicked myself and shouted, "Why did it take me five (or six, or seven, or even eight) babies to figure this out?"  But I do wish I'd known then some of the things I know now.  Here is another post in a What I Wish I'd Known (or WIWIK) series.

To me, potty-training is kind of a fun adventure.  Before you think I've been sniffing one too many dirty diapers, let me tell ya - I've been sniffing too many dirty diapers.  Potty-training is the last burst of energy you have to put in to clear the hurdle to bathroom self-sufficiency.  And then we cheer.  Way to go, Mom!

During potty training, you don't go anywhere.  There isn't much worse than being in the middle of a shopping trip when the potty-trainee gets that wild look and yells, "Mom!  I gotta go!  Now!"  And you hightail it to the nearest bathroom, praying that the dam won't break.

The only thing worse is when you are on the highway, with nowhere to pull over, and the potty-trainee gets the wild look.  Then yelling erupts - from the back AND the front seats.
"I gotta go!"
"Not yet!  Hold it for another three miles!"
"I can't!"
"We're almost there!"
"Oh!  Oh!  Mom!!"

No amount of cajoling, wheedling, pleading or screaming will ever convince a little one to 1. go before you leave home (and get it ALL out), and 2. hold it until we get there.

I wish I'd known that you can put a porta-potty in your van.

Get a small garbage bag and check it for holes in the bottom.  Lay it over the little pot so all the dirty business can go it there and not come back out.  But wait!  The best part is that you open a disposable diaper and flatten it across the bottom of the pot, over the bag.  Now close the top seat of the potty, and you're all set.  When junior (or little miss) has to go, you pull over, sit them down on their own little seat that is already familiar.  When they are done, open the potty, wrap up the diaper, tie up the bag, and find the next available dumpster.  Easy pee-z.

That's all.


(Edited to add:  I just found these real travel potties, if you wanted to buy more gear for you little one.  I can't vouch for the product, but it looks easy enough.)

The Man-Card

We hear a lot about the Man-Card.  It's a big deal in a house full of boys doing their best to grow into men.  Evidently, the Man-Card is what proves your masculinity.  We don't know of anything weird that they do to add testosterone points, by the way.  It's just a given that they have The Card.

But The Card can be temporarily lost.  When a newly adolescent's voice pitches up a few octaves, we'll hear one of the other, older brothers threaten to "take away his Man-Card."  Or when a boy comes into the kitchen wearing a pink shirt, inveritably someone will ask if he still has his Man-Card.  These boys love to good-naturedly tease each other.  They get it from their dad, I'm sure.

An anonymous child came home from a double date and told me that he had lost his Man-Card.  Evidently there was some X-Box playing going on at the date, and he and the other boy had been conned into playing a Disney Princess dance-along game.  My boy, dancing like a princess.  Well.

Man, I wish I had been there to see that one!

Squishy Pants

I was up late last night, chatting with my older two teens.  Do teen boys chat?  Maybe we were just talking.  (Why do teens want to stay up late to talk to you?  They are worse that babies for not letting Mom get sleep!)

I mentioned that I thought my new skinny jeans were very comfortable.  They are much better than the last time I had skinny jeans (I pegged them myself.  In junior high.  Yikes.), when they cut off my circulation at the knee if I tried to bend them.

Alec said he liked his suit pants, and Ben said his tux pants (he wears them for symphony concerts) were the most comfortable.  "Other than a little bit of squishy, it's like not wearing anything at all!"

"Squishy?  You have squishy in your tux pants?"  I asked, confused.

"Mom! I said SWISHY!"  Turning to Alec, Ben demanded, "You heard me say swishy!"

"No," was the innocent response.  "I heard 'squishy'."

And would you like some squishy pants?  Like wearing nothing at all!  <tee hee>  It's fun to tease these great big boys.

Ben? Drive?

Ben just got his learner's permit.  To drive a car.  I hyperventilate occasionally about this.

He drove home from the drivers' license division, pleased as could be, but slightly surprised that I would let him.  It took a long time to get home because: 1. I had him take all the teeny, tiny backstreets, and 2. he actually drives the spreed limit.  On the dot.  (Good for you, Ben!)

He had a birthday party to go to tonight, and really, really, really can I please Mom with a so sweet smile on my face badly wanted to drive there.  Yes, of course.  You need to practice a lot.  A lot.  Grab the Angel and put her in her carseat while I grab my wallet.  OK, so it took me 30 anxious, dancing around, can we please leave now minutes to get things settled in the house so I could leave.  Moms are like that, wanting to take care of everyone.

When I finally got out to the running and warmed-up van, I climbed into the passenger's seat and buckled up.  Ben was shaking his head.  He told me this story:

When he had buckled Angel in, he told he that we were going for a drive to take big brother to a party.  She was happy to go.  She loves going out.  But when Ben slid into the driver's seat, she started to laugh. Hard.  Ben told me she could barely get the words out, "Silly, Ben!  You can't drive!"  And then she laughed some more.

Ben shook his head again.  "I think I'm angry," he said with a smile.  "No, indignant.  Indignant is the right word."  Good thing he loves his little sister to pieces.

(By the way, Angel, I know how you feel.)

About Folding Baby Clothes

Being a mother is not easy.  Let me say that again.  Being a mother.  Is. Not. Easy. But I get better at it as I go along.  Some of the things which troubled me as a young mother have become easier.  There are an awful lot of things I wish I'd known when I started.  I can't count the number of times I've kicked myself and shouted, "Why did it take me five (or six, or seven, or even eight) babies to figure this out?"  But I do wish I'd known then some of the things I know now.  Here is another post in a What I Wish I'd Known (or WIWIK) series.



We were going on vacation with three little children: ages 4, 2, and a newborn.  As I went to their dresser to pull out some clothes for the trip, I had a little day-dream of what would happen if we all died on our travels.  Someone else would come into our house and have to clean it out.  At that moment, I emptied out the drawers and re-folded every little item, carefully, meticulously.  On subsequent vacations, I obsessively made sure that at least the top items in every drawer were folded to department-store crispness.  Slightly crazy, I think I was, and had more time than I needed.

I wish I'd known that folding baby clothes is not necessary.


I don't fold them at all anymore.  I do sort the sweet little clothes, and put each item nicely in its own drawer: shirts, pajamas, pants, sets or jumpsuits, underthings, socks.  Then close the drawer.  Clothes that are fussy (dresses, Sunday outfits) get hung in the closet.

If I have a screaming baby, dripping wet on my arm, I don't want to have to carefully go through neatly-folded piles of outfits to find the one I'm looking for.  I'd just shove it all around anyway.  Soon, the little crawlers learn to dump out their own drawers, and then I don't have to grumble as I re-fold the clothes for the five billionth time.

 I don't fold clothes again until the little ones are almost three, or when they are starting to learn to fold their own clothes.  Then I fold as I teach, and we do the clothes together.

Go ahead and judge if you'd like, but I'm happier (and quicker) when I don't have to fold tiny clothes.

That's all.  :-)

Happy Birthday, Chris!

My Chris is 14.  Just looking at that makes me feel a bit old.  And a lot bit proud of him

making bubbles for his little siblings to play in

I checked him out of school to go out to lunch.  We did the drive-through dollar menu - as much as you can eat.  He was delighted.  I enjoyed having a chance to get him all to myself, and to talk of some of the things he's been thinking lately.  My goodness, that boy is really growing up.

He ate half his lunch, rolled up the bag and stuffed it into his backpack, and asked if I could get him back to school before lunch hour was over.  He wanted to get a school lunch, and then fill in the corners with the rest of what we'd gotten.  He's hungry and growing, that boy.  He also wanted to make his buddies jealous with a bag of fast food.  Sly.

For dinner, he wanted a big vat of ramen noodles.  We had something of a salad bar - with toppings for the noodles.  We had several different seasonings (teriyaki chicken, spicy beef, taco), a couple of sauces (soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, sour cream, butter, and the creamy spinach dip that was by far the favorite!), and some toppings (bacon bits and shredded cheese).  I admit that I had my doubts, but it was a big hit with everyone.

Chris brought home a drawing he had done it art class that knocked my socks off.  I'm so impressed with this young man.  He is a whiz on the computer.  He is smart enough to pull constant straight A's.  He's starting to rock the tenor sax.  Math is so easy for him to understand.  He wants to be an architect or computer graphics artist.  And he can be.  Whatever he wants to do, he can totally go for it.

I am humbled to be the mother of such a boy, and excited to watch him as he grows.

 Happy birthday!