I talked to the boys!

It was so nice. Kiddo called me last night - about 5 minutes before I was planning to call him. I talked with each of them for about half an hour. They each wanted to talk to Little Man and Sweet Girl, too -- in that order. Little Man just smiled, and turned to kiss the phone. I think he misses his big brothers! Sweet Girl carried on quite the conversation with the boys. It was fun to chat with them about everything - it's been not quite a week that they've been gone, but so much stuff has gone on!

I asked them what they got for Christmas down there - they each got a .22 with lots of ammo. (Better there than here, I guess. Except that here, they'd actually be supervised.) Munchkin was telling me all about the infamous trucks waiting for them ... they sound like total pieces of junk, but if they're excited about them, well, more power to them, I guess. I seriously doubt they'll be anywhere close to running condition by the time the boys are old enough to drive, but that's fine with me! LOL Kiddo's truck is a grayish color, under all the rust spots and bad body. It has an engine, but they won't be keeping that engine in it - "too powerful", whatever that means. Munchkin's truck is mostly dark blue -- except for the driver's side door, which is white -- and in better body condition than Kiddo's... although it has no engine or hood. Correction, there are 3 engines - all in the truck bed. They are covered by the hood. ROFL!

They were very excited when I told them how many presents were under the tree... all for them! I hope they look forward to coming home as much as I do. The house has been way too quiet! It's been a weird Christmas, having them completely gone. It's given me a taste of what life will be when they're grown and gone... :-(

Honest to a fault

Uh, no, not talking about me. :-)

Tonight, I watched the kids of a friend of mine - 4 kids, ages 6 - 10 months. We all had a good time (mostly... there's a blog entry brewing off tonight) and I was proud of how Sweet Girl had acted - she'd pretty much shared anything the other kids wanted, was kind to the baby, etc. There were only 1 or 2 instances that I'd had to remind her not to fight over a toy, or she got catty about something.

So Sweet Girl and I were cuddling after I'd put her in pajamas for the night, and we got a little mushy... then she said the funniest thing...

SG: Mommy, I love you.
Me: I love you too, Sweet Girl.
SG: You're so nice. You're the nicest Mommy ever.
Me: You're pretty nice, too. In fact, I think you're the nicest Sweet Girl ever.
SG: Uh-huh.
Me: You were such a good girl tonight! You're so kind,
SG: Uh-huh...
Me: and nice,
SG: Uh-huh...
Me: and smart,
SG: Uh-huh...
Me: and pretty,
SG: Uh-huh...
Me: and funny,
SG: Uh-huh...
Me: and I'm so lucky you're my daughter.
SG: Uh-huh!
Me: Yes... you're a very good girl.
SG: Yes. I am. But sometimes, I'm a little bit mean, too!

Well... at least she's got a balanced look at herself! LOL

Look what I made!

I finished this a while ago. It's what I'm giving my mom for Christmas. It's a birthday calendar thingy... hope she likes it.

Sweet Girl strikes again

Things she's said or done in the past few days to crack me up:

* She speaks in Spanglish. (Too much Dora and Diego, remember?) We passed the sugar beet plant the other day, with its huge piles of sugar beets piled outside. SG says, "Wow, Mommy! That's a grande pile of sugar beets!" A while ago she was laughing at something Munchkin did and said, "You crack me arriba!" There are more instances, I just can't remember them...

* We went to the post office today to mail some packages (shudder). The guy working the counter was pretty nice, and gave her a candy cane. She waited until we were in the car to try to open it, but the plastic wrap was pretty stubborn. I took out my nail clippers to clip open the edge of the wrapper. Sweet Girl watched and said, "Huh. Nail clippers. That's a nifty idea, Mom."

* She was pretending to pour some water into a cup during a tea party yesterday. She asked if I'd like some. "Sure, " I said, holding out my 'cup' for a fill. I dutifully sipped out of thin air and said, "Wow, SG, that's some good water. Very refreshing." She said, "I know. It's from Swan Lake, so it has to be good." WTH?

* Munching on the aforementioned candy cane on the way home, she decided that she didn't like it:
SG: Mom, it's hot mint. I don't like hot mint.
Me: You don't? Since when?
SG: Well, now. It's hot mint and I don't like it.
Me: Um, ok then. Put it back in the wrapper and give it to me.
SG: Well, can you break off a small piece? I want some more.
Me: I thought you didn't like hot mint?
SG: Well, I don't. I'm just going to eat it for the fun of it.

* This morning I started making my mom's gift (yes, I know it's only 4 days til Christmas... what's your point?). It involves painting 24 little wooden hearts. Sweet Girl sat next to me and started playing with the to-be-painted hearts - stacking them, putting them in a row, etc. She said, "Mom, do you like my collection?" I glanced over and said, "Oh yes, very nice. Do you like these hearts?" She replied, "Yes. That's why I'm collectioning them. Hearts are my favorite, so I'm collectioning them now."

Snoopers of the world, unite!

I admit it.

I'm a snooper.

I know there's more of us out there - and I bet if you're not a snooper, you've thought about it at least once.

I'm specifically talking about wrapped Christmas presents. They hold a draw for me - like a siren, beckoning, ever beckoning... until I give in.

I do it for the good of the family, you know.

It's not just because I don't like surprises, or is some self-serving desire. No, I snoop so I can have the appropriate response ready. I'm not that good at faking delight. Surprise - now, that I'm good at faking. (Years of practice.) As a mom, you know that if you don't show absolute delight and happiness at the gifts your children give you, it crushes them. When they were younger, fake "Oh wow, look at that!" responses were ok. They know better now.

Then there's the gifts from DH. He's the hardest to fool. He says I'm hard to buy for. I say he must not be listening. I give big, huge, "Listen to this, this is information you want" hints all year. The conversations often go like this:

DH: Hey, what d'ya want for Christmas?
Me: I don't need anything.
DH: Well, what do you want?
Me: Time to scrapbook!
DH: Let me rephrase. What can I give you?
Me: Take the kids for a day so I can get some scrapping done. Or a gift card to Scraps N Scissors, Paper Cottage, Scrapdoodles, someplace like that. Even Walmart. But really, I need to use what I've got. I'm so behind, I really just need some dedicated time to scrap.

or

Me, reading the paper: Hey, look, at the ShopKo big sale this weekend, their diamond jewelry is on sale 70% off!
DH: I already got you diamond earrings. (editor's note: yes, in 1998. I wear them every day.) Besides, you never wear much jewelry. (editor's note: everyday I wear two rings, a watch, two pair of earrings, and sometimes a necklace and/or bracelet.)
Me: Hmm. Hey, the George Foreman grill is on sale, too. Those are nice...

Why don't I complain, you ask? Well, I don't want to hurt their feelings. I'm just grateful they try, I really am. And they're improving. Baby steps, I remind myself. Baby steps.

Besides, I figure this is payback for all those rotten gifts I gave my own mom at Christmas.

Snow update

The base of the lilac bush is now completely covered.

It's still steadily snowing.

Hmmmm.

With my luck, it'll all melt by morning. I'd better get some sleep. I think I'll be taking two middle schoolers, a tuba, a pre-schooler, and a toddler for a drive in the morning... ok, in 6 hours. Blech.

Did I mention that I hate the snow?

It's snowing

Coming down pretty good, as a matter of fact - when I sent the last partygoer out the door at 9:45, there was only a scattering of snow on the ground. Now there's, what -- maybe 2 or 3 inches? Dunno, I'm not going out to measure it. It's still falling pretty steadily, too. Am I a bad mom for hoping it snows alllll night and we have a snow day tomorrow? Not because I think the kids would enjoy it or that it wouldn't cause scheduling nightmares for me, but because I don't want to drive the kids to school in the morning? Is that bad? I thought so.

*sigh*

I hate the snow.

The cake

The last "H" broke when I tried to use it, so the "heck yes he is" part got modified.

Sad and cheesy.

Hopefully not too realistically sad and cheesy...

Happy Birthday, Kiddo

Approximately 14 years, 12 hours and 55 minutes ago, I became a mom. My eldest son, my big guy, my guinea pig, was born at 1:10 am on Dec. 18, 1991. And my life has never been the same since.

Where do I start to describe all I've learned and felt in 14 years? Truth is, I can't. Let's just say that Kiddo has a special place in my heart as my first. I need to remind myself of that more often, instead of getting caught up in the "augh" moments of momdom; let's face it, he's a teenager now and the "augh" moments are coming faster and faster. As a mom, you hope that your kids will grow up wiser and happier than you did; as a mom to a teen, you think that will never, ever, in a million years, happen. (Both the becoming wiser part and the growing up part. Depends on how bad the day's been.)

But for every time where he comes up with a $500 wish list for dirt bike riding gear (he's never been dirt bike riding a day in his life) or 'forgets' to turn in an algebra assignment, I see him tenderly pick up his baby brother and comfort him when he's fallen, or watch him pass the Sacrament in church. Every now and then, I see glimpses of the wonderful man he's becoming. I am so privileged to be his mother. He's got such a strong, compassionate spirit. He's going to be a great man - a wonderful father, a loving helpmate, a spiritual leader. Right now, I'm home from church while DH goes and ordains Kiddo to the office of teacher. My Kiddo is growing up. And I'm so grateful I get to watch him and, hopefully, guide him on his way.

So what am I doing while he's at church? Well, aside from caring for Little Man (102 fever and upchucking), I am decorating Kiddo's birthday cake. (Don't worry, Mom, I'm disinfecting myself every time I go near the cake!) How am I decorating it, you ask? What wondrous theme did my handsome, intelligent young man decide on for his birthday? Napoleon Dynamite. Yes, you read that right - Napoleon Dynamite. How does one decorate a cake with Napoleon Dynamite? I'm not quite sure. What we've come up with is a basic 9x13 cake with white frosting, and bought some of those nasty sugar-form letters that you peel off of cardboard, and will spell out "Ethan is 14, Heck yes he is" on the cake. It's supposed to look cheesy and sad on purpose, like if Napoleon's family had made it.

Thing is, I'm no professional decorator, and I'm afraid it's just going to look cheesy and sad.

Hopefully the teenager will forgive me... again.

Blogging challenge topic of the day

So this message board I belong to has several bloggers on it (that would be why I have a blog... do you hear me mooing, following with the herd? LOL) and today someone issued a challenge to all board bloggers: a daily topic. Today's topic: Stockings (their contents, their history, when and how you open them, anything else you want to discuss).

Hmmm. Never really put that much thought into them before, quite honestly. None of our stockings have any history, except mine (like it matters anyway - DH doesn't do a stocking for me). My stocking was made by my mom when I was in high school - it's a cute teddy bear wearing a santa hat, covered in french knots. She made it as a way to keep her hands busy during all the hours she spent in a hospital room, watching over my dad. She always had a project to do when she was on watch: stockings, crocheting snowflakes, crocheting decorative hats and baskets, crossword puzzles... anyway, I love my stocking and it's out every year.

Everyone else's stockings... well, they're a work in progress, mostly. DH and the boys have stockings that pretty much were leftover decorations from someone. (As the baby of my family, I inherited lots of boxes of stuff, many of which were Christmas decorations. I can't keep track any more who gave me what.) When DH and I got married, I took stockings from a box and used gold glitter glue to put names on them. (No, the boys didn't have their own stockings before DH and I got married; I'd never had them on Christmas morning, and it kind of got overlooked when I was single.) None of our stockings matched. When Sweet Girl was born, I found another stocking in the box and put it up; I meant to add her name, but didn't get around to it. I think by then I was planning on getting matching ones. Last year when Little Man came, I grabbed the last random one we had and hung it. No name on his, either. So I bought 4 plain red stockings at WalMart and started to put their names across the top in gold glitter glue; for some reason I can't remember now, I stopped (interrupted by who knows what and never started again!) and found them this year. Kind of. I found three, one with an "E" on it. Hmm. So I went to Joanne's and found a big, plain, red stocking and figured at least the kids' stockings would match. Not so. When I got home, I discovered that the Joanne's stocking is bigger than the WalMart stockings. Figures! So I think that I'm going to try to go to WalMart and Joanne's, and find one more smaller stocking and three more big stockings. I'll use the smaller ones for decoration, and Santa can fill and leave the big ones.

Sorry... me and my tangents. What's next? Oh yeah, contents. Candy, small gifts, cheap stuff. Personalized as much as possible. When and how we open: they are first, and the kids pretty much just go for it. They have to wait until we're in the room, at least, but we don't make them take turns. Like I said before, Kiddo and Munchkin have been with their dad on Christmas morning 11 of the past 12 years, so they get to do Christmas with us a couple days after Dec. 25th. By then, they're very anxious to rip into everything! Sweet Girl has been too young to really care, and Little Man was approximately 6 weeks old last Christmas. I think this Christmas will be fun with the younger two - they're already getting excited. Kiddo and Munchkin are going to their dad's on Dec. 22 and won't be back until Jan. 1, so they'll be very anxious to rip into their gifts.

When I was growing up, I don't recall having traditional, decorating stockings out. I do remember that on Christmas Eve, we all got out one of our regular socks and put them out for Santa, and that's what he filled. We always made sure to get the biggest sock we could find! LOL Thank goodness I grew up in the '70s, when tube socks were in...

Why do children delight in making their parents look like idiots?

The younger two have been sick for a few days now. Little Man started it last weekend with a dry, croupy-sounding cough, but that only lasted a day or two then it turned into a low fever, snotty nose, and horrible wet-sounding cough that isn't productive. Although he was sick, he still pretty much acted like normal, so I wasn't too worried - he still ate, drank, peed, laughed, played, etc. Now it's down to just the bad cough. I figured it was just a matter of time before he shared the wealth, so I wasn't too surprised when Tuesday night Sweet Girl woke up around 11 pm with a fever and the beginnings of a cough. But by last night, her fever was up high (102.2 in the arm, which translates to 103 oral, 104 rectal), and the Motrin didn't seem to help bring it down. She also hadn't wanted to eat all day; I'd maybe gotten one cookie and some teddy grahams in her. Fluids were low, too - just a little milk and water here and there. Come to think of it, she hadn't peed all day. She was crying about how bad her tummy hurt, and her throat was sore. All she wanted to do was sit with me and whimper, except when she got off my lap to lay down and cry because her tummy hurt so bad. Her cough was getting worse, too. So I decided to call the Ask-A-Nurse line to see if I should just keep medicating her at home, or if she needed to be seen (I was concerned about the lack of urine and was thinking maybe she had a UTI or something). After going over everything, the nurse decided she really should be seen as soon as possible. All righty then, pack 'em up and head off to the QuickCare center. As we pull up to the door to verify they're still open, she asks where we are. I tell her. "But, Mommy, I don't need to be here! I'm fine!" she cried. "I'm not sick!" she managed to say between hacking coughs. Uh-huh.

So we get in there, and the little stink was an angel - which I suppose is good, except it made me look like a freakin' idiot! LOL No crying, no whimpering, no coughing, for pete's sake. (Little Man didn't cough once, either - and a good portion of the day was spent with him coughing so hard he couldn't breathe.) So they check her out: listen to her lungs (clear), run a strep test (negative, thank goodness) and look in her ears (one side looks like an ear infection is starting). It's just the creeping crud: keep her comfy, push liquids, etc. Yes, but what about the fact that she hasn't gone to the bathroom in 10 hours? Well, she's not dehydrated, they tell me, and teach me what to look for (which is all the stuff I know). And don't expect her to have a full appetite, she's sick. Oh, and her little brother's been sick? She probably got it from him - they cross-contaminate each other. Well, DUH!

I must have mentioned to them 4 or 5 times that I was only there because the Ask-A-Nurse lady said we should be. I knew that a crud was going around but the nurse said we should get her checked out. Apparently I came off looking like a paranoid first-time mom (no offense to first moms out there; I was one once. But after 4 kids, you kind of get a feel for when something's really wrong and when it's not; your first kid, you tend to be a little more nervous about things) with no common sense of how a sick kid acts. I had the PA listen to Little Man's lungs, too, since he sounded worse. Nope, his lungs are fine, are you sure he's got a bad cough? Grrr. Please don't patronize me!

Anyway, we left with a scrip for amoxicillan and the admonishment from the PA to "keep fluids fun" so she'll stay hydrated - things like milkshakes, popsicles, chocolate milk, juice boxes, whatever. Of course, he said that to me in front of Sweet Girl, who has been begging me to take her to McDonald's for a milkshake ever since. Last night after I gave her the amoxicillan, I asked her if she'd like milk or water to wash it down. She asked for a popsicle "so I can have fluids." She's too freaking smart.

Oh - and as I was strapping her and Little Man into their carseats, they both totally started hacking. Little stinkers.

So tell me how you really feel...

As you may or may not know, this past year's happiness has been marred by the ongoing court battle with my ex-husband. Long story short: he's an ass. DH has been a saint during it all.

So, Sunday after church I had an interview with the bishop to renew my temple recommend. One of the questions posed was something along the lines of, "Is there any conduct or feeling in your immediate family that is not in line with gospel principles?" to which my somewhat smart-aleck reply was, "My immediate family? No. My ex-husband... well, I've been having some negative thoughts there!" with a laugh. The bishop was concerned and asked for details, which I gave, and then he asked how I'm handling it all. I smiled and said, "Well, I'm taking the high road, as usual, and he's getting away with everything." He smiled and said he was glad to see that I'm taking the high road, as that is what I should be doing, yadda yadda yadda. Then he asked if I felt that I could kneel in prayer with the ex, with no bad feelings between us. "Some days," was my reply. "Depends on how much of a jerk he's been!" So the bishop challenged me to get to that point. I promised him I'd try.

Last night I was talking about this with DH. When I got to the part about challenging me to be able to pray with ex, DH came back with, "You're kidding!" I was surprised and said, "No, that's what he said. Why, what are you thinking?" DH said, "I'd have told him I'd try to pray with ex if he felt he could pray with Satan! Seriously, when he feels he can pray with someone who lies and deceives all the time, that's when he should expect it from you!"

Whoa. So, DH, tell me how you really feel...

Munchkin's band concert

Last night was Munchkin's 7th grade holiday concert. He plays the tuba. It's nearly as big as he is. But he sounded great. (And yes, I know he did personally - there's only two tubas in band, so they're pretty easy to pick out, sound-wise.) The rest of the band did well, too. :-) He looked so sharp, all dressed up. The band uniform is black pants or skirts, and white shirts (ties for boys a plus). He has a nice black suit we got him for his 12th birthday, and he wears that. He's the only one that wear a jacket, and he looks so nice!

Little Man enjoyed the concert. A little too much, maybe. While he sometimes applauded at the end of the song with everyone else, he often applauded whenever he liked it - which was often. And loudly. But he's only one - he can get away with it!

Tree frogs have three toes

Yep, that's right. Sweet Girl just informed me of that, after I asked her why she was putting paper clips in groups of three on the desk.



SG: I'm showing the toes.
Me: Sweetie, paper clips don't have toes.
SG, giggling: Not the paper clip toes, silly! The tree frogs.
Me, confused: Tree frogs?
SG: Yes. Tree frogs have three toes, and they're shaped like this. So I'm making tree frog toes.
Me: Oh.

I think I'm letting her watch too much Diego or something. The other day my mom pointed out a picture of a parrot to her - "Look, Sweet Girl, it's a parrot! Par-rot," like she's teaching her a new word. Sweet Girl responded with, "No, Grandma, that's not a parrot, it's a macaw. Ma-caw!"

Note to self:

Get more sleep.

That is all.

Conversations with a 3 year old while driving

Can be enlightening and amusing, all at the same time.

On the way back from the grocery store today, we passed some workers in a cherry picker, going up to fix power lines. Sweet Girl asked what they were doing. I replied that they were going to fix the power lines. The rest of the conversation follows:

SG: Or the phone wires.
Me: Yes, or the phone wires.
SG: Yes, the phone or the power wires. We don't know.
Me: No, we don't.
SG: Why are they fixing them?
Me. Don't know, honey.
SG: Well, I'll just have to ask Jesus when I die, what those men were doing to the wires.
Me, repressing laughter: OK, sweetie. That's a good idea.
SG: When I get bigger, I'm gonna die.
Me: Yes, honey, but not for a long time.
SG: We all die.
Me: Yes, we all die.
SG: But that's ok.
Me: Yep.
SG: But how will I color with my crayons when I'm die-ded?
Me, again repressing laughter: Um, not sure, honey.
SG: Guess I'll have to ask Jesus that, too. How am I supposed to color when I'm die-ded?

What is it about a clean diaper...

... that immediately makes a baby poop in it?

I know this is one of those topics that no one but a mother understands, or wants to read about. Heck, even most moms don't *want* to read about poop, or even think about it; it just comes with the territory of unglamorous momhood. That, and the ability to catch barf in your hand without thinking twice.

Anyway... back to my story. So yesterday I got a chance to sleep in - kind of. Make up for lost sleep is more like it - Little Man was awake from 11:30 pm until 2:15 am, so I didn't get to sleep very early. I got up at 7, got Kiddo and Munchkin off to school, and laid back down as long as I could. Little Man has had a set schedule lately with his morning poo - same time every day (roughly). Yesterday, we woke up after the 'usual' time, so when I changed him after we got up, I expected a nasty diaper. Nope. Hmm. OK, whatever. I finish changing his diaper, get him in clean clothes, and he waddles off. I'm not even off the couch with the dirty diaper and pajamas when I hear that tale-tell "squirt!" accompanied by the weird grin on his face. Augh! So I scoop him back up, clean up the nastiness that is my son's bottom, and release him again. Two steps away, another squirt. I swear, the kid's a poop machine. We repeated the cleaning process, and thankfully this time it took a while before we had to change... but it made me think, what is it about a clean diaper that just makes babies need to soil them?

Foot action baby

Little Man started dancing today. He was doing it the way Sweet Girl used to, or as DH affectionately referred to it, giving us some foot action. Up til now when he heard music he'd kind of bounce up and down, or wiggle his bum, but today he started doing the whole foot stomp routine. It was the cutest thing.

Our piano is an electric piano and has a 'demo' mode. Little Man loves to 'play' the piano, and when I put it on demo and let the piano play while he's sitting at it, he's just in heaven. I was trying to create room for the Christmas tree by cleaning up all the odds and ends of junk that has accumulated in our front room, and needed to occupy Little Man, so I sat him on the piano bench and pushed demo. Sweet Girl heard the 'ballet music' came running in, too, so she could be a ballerina. While I gathered up toys and moved boxes, they had a dance fest. Little Man stood up on the bench and started stomping his little feet all over. I grabbed the video camera and got a few minutes' worth recorded before moving him to the floor. I can't wait to show DH.

Took Christmas pictures today

And it was torture. Why is it so hard to get 4 kids to look the same direction and smile, all at once? Little Man decided he'd had enough before we even started... I gave up hope of getting a pic with him smiling and just accepted him looking at the camera as success.

It's a shame, too, because they're such cute kids when they're all happy.

I love this template.

It reminded me of my father. I still miss him terribly and think of him every day. He loved the ocean, the beach, anything nautical; but lighthouses were his favorite.

I love you, Daddy.