He Man Woman Haters Club

This is what happened a few days ago: The boys were playing in the living room and suddenly there were shrieks and cries from Drew. See, they had each gotten a small ball from their Grandaddy a few weeks ago. Along with being a pretty darn good optometrist Keith's dad could probably get a gold medal in operating "The Claw." So he had won a soccer ball for David and a basketball for Drew. Well for some reason the kids love them (they are cheap, soft, and I have no idea why the boys have taken to them so much) and they decide that David's ball is going to be a baby panda and Drew's ball is going to be a young deer. All was going well and their imaginations were in high gear until David said that Drew's "deer" was a girl. Oh my gosh, you would have thought that Drew had been stabbed. And David wouldn't recant. His "panda" had to be male and Drew's pet had to be female. There were, I kid you not, ten minutes of crying and flopping around and there were three very frustrated people in my living room by the end. I have decreed that all imaginary animals and stuffed toys are male. Ironically it is accepted that our real pet is a "ghourl dog."
Anyone seen those ridiculous Lelli Kelly shoe commercials? If one of those comes on, Drew will say, "Ugh, go away Barbie, we don't like you," in very hateful tones.
Moral of the story? Please, don't anyone buy Drew anything in pink (even in his Easter basket) until the stage passes.

Listening

I tell my kids all the time to put on their listening ears. I have heard both boys say, "Do you understand what I am saying?" because that's what I say.
However, as a parent, it's hard to practice what you preach. I tend to try and do several things at once and think I have my kids figured out, when really I need to get down on their level more.
David has been telling me he doesn't want to go to Sunday school. I just blew it off saying, "Whatever, you love it, I'm your teacher there and I know you have fun." Finally, yesterday night, David told me specifically why he didn't like it anymore. "Mom, when you are my teacher you hug and hold the other kids and it hurts my feelings and I feel like you don't love me anymore. It makes me too sad." Verbatim. That's what he said. Yikes. Problem easily solved and could probably have been solved sooner had I not brushed David's comments off. David got my whole lap during the songs and the cuddlers simply sat with the other four adults that are teaching with me.
At bathtime Drew was going on and on about his finger hurting. I didn't even stop to really look at it, chalking his whining up to tiredness. When I finally got exasperated and peered at his little finger I saw a splinter the size of a small sapling sticking out. Oops. That probably did smart.
I just stuck my listening ears on a little better.

Good Times

Somehow the memory card to my camera is missing, or I would have pictures to show you of David with orange marker all over his face and Drew with blue marker on his.
I went back to my room to watch the weather report and the boys were quiet. I actually thought to myself, "I wonder why I never just stop and take five minutes like this?" I quickly remembered why. David went to his time out, Drew did not. So Drew and I went toe to toe on staying in time out. And David, in the midst of the fit, says, "I know, I'll just call Poppy." I was kinda ignoring David and working on settling Drew down. David just continues on, "And Mom, Poppy will go in his workshop, and make a remote control, and we'll put it in Drew and then control him so he won't be naughty!" Or maybe David, you could not give him the stupid idea to color on his face in the first place. But I didn't say anything like that, because, hey, if we could find a remote control and implant it in Drew, I'd consider it. Nope, instead I just dialed my dad's cell phone number and let David pitch his plan to him.
Keith's out of town and the boys and I had a nice peaceful dinner. Drew told us he wanted to be an elephant when he grew up, and then proceeded to crawl across the table to get a piece of David's turkey. "Mom, he's adorable, isn't he?" was David's reaction. David doesn't like turkey and does like Drew. Despite wishing he were a robot boy.
I am patting myself on the back because I just fine tuned our bathtime/bedtime routine. Every night it's a hassle to get the boys in their long john type pajamas. The bathroom is crowded, the floor is inevitably wet, and getting their large hands through the sleeves is difficult. No more. It's warm enough for sleeping t-shirts, the boy version of nightgowns.
And that's it. Going to watch "Modern Family," it's my new favorite show.

Heaven has a Floor

We didn't tell David or Drew that our dog Hank died last summer. It's too sad and we chose to make up a story about him running away to live on a farm. But the reality is (who can name which OC professor used to always say "and the reality is..?") kids have lots of questions about death and what happens afterwards. David has started asking about heaven. It's a tough concept to explain to preschoolers.
My best friend's cousin passed away yesterday. She was four. Now my friend has to talk to her kids about it. That sparked me making my mom go up in her attic to find the book "Heaven Has a Floor" by Evelyn Roberts. I remembered reading it when I was little and as I read it again this evening, I was able to appreciate the explanations that are all taken from scripture.
I wanted to pass along the title to anyone else who might need to talk to their kids about that subject.

One step forward one step (hopefully temporary) backward

When I was growing up, we had this card game we used to always play called Skip-Bo. We'd pull it out in the winter, or take it on vacation, and we all loved it. I am happy to announce that David has taken to playing Skip-Bo's much younger cousin- Uno. Actually, Mickey Uno to be exact. This is a happy mini milestone for me because it is the first game that David and I are able to play that has a small degree of strategy and requires more thought than flicking a spinner. I love how serious David is about playing it and how he understands that if he thinks about which cards to put down he can use up more cards on one turn. He was really tired last night, but I couldn't resist a few rounds before stories. I reminded him that if he won, I'd be happy for him, and if I won just to say, "Congratulations" and not to get upset. I won the second game. David's mouth turned down, his shoulders slumped, he stared at his cards, and then, "Well Congratulations!" It's small, but I was so proud of him!
My little Pee-Wee hasn't been having such an easy time. Everything has been making Drew burst into dramatic tears. Does anyone else hope that their child has a illness that requires a quick round of antibiotics because then the behavior would be easily solved? The alternative of "a difficult phase" is so much less desirable. Drew did have a cold earlier in the week, and I think it has left him feeling crummy. However, I could not explain this to the cashier at the store. I came barreling up to her counter waving a banana and saying, "I need to pay for this now." Drew was about five seconds from a melt down, and I just wanted to give him a snack to head it off. Stupid me peeled it for him. Which resulted in screams and tears and snot and me diving into the already sacked rest of the bananas to hand him one to peel on his own. Not having anywhere to put the mangled original banana I stuck it in the pocket of my sweatshirt. Yes-eeew. Like I said, we can only hope it's a mild ear infection. I can't revert back to unreasonable tantrums.

Art

David decided to make a "twig dog." It's actually made from giant old mulch that he pulled out of our front flower bed. This took a lot of time, concentration, and tape. I don't know what made me laugh harder, the fact that David suddenly decided to create Twig Dog or the fact that Drew walked by and said, "Oh, a dog."

Prior to the creation of Twig Dog, David made portraits of everyone in the family. I couldn't figure out how to turn this picture the right way, so it's on its side. He gave everyone bellybuttons. Giant bellybuttons. I mean, my navel looks somewhat different after two pregnancies, but I wouldn't describe it as huge. Still, a large bellybutton is better than what I first thought it was. A giant boob. Which leads me to my next question, would one massive ta-ta be better than two small ones?

This next masterpiece is a puppy. With privates. So it can use the bathroom. Naturally. I wouldn't draw a dog any other way.

Two more hours to be in my twenties...

I got an early gift tonight. My mom and dad had my extended family meet and surprise me for dinner. And since my mom is incredibly thoughtful, she had a kid's table set up for the boys and their cousin Braddock. Yup, she even brought big crayons and tractor sticker books, so I got to enjoy a peaceful dinner catching up with my aunts, uncle, brother, his girlfriend and my cousins, who are also some of my closest friends.

Thanks Mom and Dad!

No weeds here

I used to have this quote that we would journal on when I taught. It went like this, "Words without deeds are like a garden full of weeds." I don't know who wrote it. Probably the very wise Unknown.
Drew was quiet this morning on the way to church. We thought he was nervous because we had told him there would be new Sunday school teachers (he love, love, loved his last teacher and she got him over his separation anxiety.) Then, during church, Drew up chucked right in front of Information Central. He was crying, Keith was covered in vomit, I was mortified. And about five people were helping us and one college guy knelt down and started helping me pick up pieces of throw up.
I had just taught David's Bible class and we had gone over the story of the Good Samaritan. It was nice to see it in action.

When the planets align

Do you know what I really, really look forward to? A good phone call from Italy. A time difference of seven hours, two kids on my end, and three on hers, makes it difficult but when Emilia and I can catch up it's the best. Similar treats are calls from my friend Jessica in California. The time difference there isn't too bad, but sometimes I really do want to call her at nine o' clock in the morning my time and that would be way too early for her. Anyway, I look forward to these conversations and maybe if boys are up they get a little ignored, but hey, the dishwasher gets unloaded. This afternoon I was talking away to Jess and telling her how well they played together, and then, David came and told me not to look in the bathtub. And Drew said he needed to be wiped. Well, obviously, since Drew was pooping David had to pee in the tub over all of the bath toys. David's excuse was just that, "Mom, Drew is always pooping!" He's right, but he needed to be reminded that there are other toilets in the house. The half of a bottle of Lysol that I just used was well worth it. I need to talk to my friends. It's like free therapy.

Naps

I am a little sad to report that David has just about given up naps. He is averaging only one, maybe two naps a week. He still has quiet time to build and do puzzles. And then he gets stories and another hour in which he rolls around in his bed and sneaks toys under the covers. (I know what you are doing David, I just don't care so long as you stay put.)
I think only my friends with two kids close in age can understand why this has made me near neurotic to get Drew home and down for a nap by 12:30. Any later and it throws the start of bathtime/bedtime out of wack and then, heaven forbid, one boy is lively and not tired and one boy is exhausted and whiny. My day starts with Drew waking up at about 6:45. So, you can understand why I am ready to be through with kids, and have them fast asleep by 8:00. It's not that I don't enjoy being with them, but, sheesh, that's a long day to be on duty by anybody's standards (and yes, I get my wonderful hour of laundry time in the afternoon while Drew is napping and David is wallowing in his twin bed.)
Wait a minute, now this sounds like I can't wait to get rid of my kids. Maybe I would prefer that everyone thinks I am anal about schedules...