Growing Pains

There's something rather malicious about January for me. My oldest and youngest were both born in January, only a week apart. Well, they weren't born a week apart. Their birthdays are a week apart. Six years and a week apart. So every January I get to celebrate my "big baby" and my "forever baby", BAM! BAM!! Just like that.

Which is wonderful but really hard too. It just kills me how time keeps rushing on and these children keep growing. There's no stopping it. My oldest keeps forging into new big kid territory and my youngest leaves all that territory behind never to be tread again. With every milestone Dee makes we joyfully realize all those firsts. With every milestone Cee meets we realize with a painful twinge it will be for the last time.

I don't mean to sound like such a sob. I really do get rather excited, if not a tad giddy, seeing the new stage of life we are in. It's liberating and fun and exciting. But I can't help but mourn the death of our baby stage. No more positive pregnancy tests. No more flutterings in my baby bump. No more birth stories. No more new baby smell. No more first sit-up, first crawl, first steps. No more first birthdays No more second birthdays.

As the mom it's hard not to have an identity crisis. For the past ten years I have been 100% committed to baby-making, -growing, and -nurturing. Now what do I do? What is my new position, responsibilities, frame of mind?

I thought I had been handling the transition fairly gracefully until the other day. Now that my oldest two are getting old enough to be at home by themselves for small amounts of time we are getting a home phone line. We've only had cell phones for most of our marriage and since I believe that children having their own personal cell phones is outlandishly ridiculous we will be providing them with a land line to get in touch with us if we are not at home when they are.

The other day my oldest two came home from school and sat at the table where I was working on a project. Seeing this as an opportunity to present the new home phone as an exciting big kid privilege I opened my mouth to relate the good news.

I only made it through "Now that you guys are getting older..." before crumpling into tears. As I listened to myself it just hit me: They really are getting older! After nine plus years of spending nearly every waking (and sometimes not so "waking") moment with my children they are getting old enough to be left alone. They don't need me for every little thing. They are growing up. How did this happen?

My children just looked at me with confusion. I tried to laugh it off, recompose myself, and launch into my little speech again. "Now that you guys are getting older..." Now I was just laughing and crying at the same time. My son giggled awkwardly while my daughter, in her typical loving fashion, rushed to comfort me, patting my back and brushing my hair away from my face. Which only made me sob harder. Like shaking body sobs. (I'm not proud.)

In an effort to get it all out and move on already I just ended up blurting/yelling, "WHY DO YOU GUYS HAVE TO GET OLDER?! JUST STOP GROWING, OKAY?!" And then I laughed a lot, probably more maniacally than intended, just to lighten up the situation and help my kids understand they weren't truly in trouble for doing something so horrible as growing up.

Poor kids. I wonder at which therapy session they'll bring this scene up...

Finally I was able to compose myself enough to tell them about the new phone and boy are they excited! And yes, for all my psycho-ness, I'm just as excited as they are. Excited at their excitement, excited at meeting yet another "first", and yes, even excited at my own new found freedom.

Ugh. "They" warned me about the contractions and the sleepless nights and the soreness from breastfeeding and the Terrible Twos and all the pain and trials and terrible-ness. But no one ever told me how much it would hurt when all that was over and it was time to move on.

Three for Thursday: Having Kids is Like being Pecked to Death by Ducks

It's been another long week. Any week that Joe is gone and I'm single-momming it is long. My patience has been shorter than the fingernails my son nibbles on incessantly. I'm afraid Fun Mommy was killed, stuffed, and mounted on the wall by Angry Mommy. Therefore...my Three for Thursday is not the most fuzzy, warm, positive post. In fact, it's more of a mommy rant. Ahh. Such is life.

Three things I used to like before I had kids:
1. animals
2. long drives
3. swimming

Three things I like now that I have kids:
1. Halloween
2. short haircuts
3. bedtime

Three things I gave up when I gave birth:
1. the ability to be on time
2. Crockpot Cream Cheese Chicken (gag)
3. TV

Three things I can't get under control no matter how much I try:
1. the neatness of my craft area
2. my girls' drawers (It never fails. Dirty clothes in the dresser. Clean clothes on the floor. EVERY SINGLE BLOODY DAY!)
3. my insomnia

Three things I don't understand:
1. things that end in -ics: politics, economics, statistics, quantum physics, psychics, bulimics, lunatics
2. Firefly (what's the big deal?)
3. my third child

Three pictures:

I was about ready to auction this kid off the to the highest bidder. And now look at her...Geez. I love being a mom.

Did I ever mention that we had our first Tamalada (tamale making party)? And that it was muy fantastico! Not to mention muy delicioso!

My parents have new neighbors. And their little boy (can you spot him?) likes to come hang out with all the kids when we gather at my parents' house. Somehow he's ended up in almost every picture of the kids that we take during holidays and special occasions. May the red headed step child jokes ensue. 

P.S. Remember my Super Mario Party Pack Giveaway! It ends Monday at midnight!

There can be Miracles...

Photographic evidence that there are modern day miracles...

Four children. Asleep. Simultaneously. Midday. Miracle.

Boo-yah!

Of Separation Anxiety

We just finished up a very lovely Spring Break week. I pulled out all my best "fun mommy" tricks. We went to the park, to the zoo, to the grandparents, to the kids' favorite restaurant. We watched movies and ate bowls of popcorn. We played and read books and stayed up late and slept in and traveled and ate junk food and played some more. It was a glorious week, but it had to end sometime.

I was dreading Monday with its return to schedule and school more than my kids were.

Well, maybe not more than the kids.

Monday morning, as I pulled up in front of the school to drop Dee and Jeigh off, it was revealed to me just how much my son wasn't ready for the new week to start. Both the kids had complained of phantom stomach aches during the morning's preparation hoping to delay the end of Spring Break just a little longer, but Jeigh spotted her friends near the school and happily hopped out of the van to greet them along with the new week.

In contrast, Dee shriveled even farther into the back of the van. He whined, "I don't wanna go, Mama. I don't wanna!"

And then he began to cry.

He sobbed as he told me he didn't have any friends. That he was scared. That kids teased him.

His tears thickened as he begged to go back home.

It was terrible. What was I to do? I remember grade school. Kids do tease. It is scary. There were times I felt like I didn't have a friend in the entire place.

I wanted to shut the van door and glide off into the sunset, sheltering him from the big bad school and world. It was what I wanted to do, but that didn't seem right. If I let him go home today what was going to happen tomorrow? And the day after that??

I knew this was something my little son had to do. But try telling him that.

As I did try his crying only increased. He refused to get out of the van. I got out and walked around, afraid that I would have to physically remove him from the vehicle. Afraid of being manhandled he jumped out himself, but then stood on the sidewalk with huge, slushy, wet tears rolling off his red cheeks.

This was tragic. There couldn't be anything harder to parenting than this, could there?

I tried to lovingly talk to him and convince him that he needed to be in school, that it was the law, that it would be okay, that he could call me if it wasn't. But love and logic and talk were not cutting it.

Eventually I had to get tough. Woodenly, I pried his clinging arms off of my legs, firmly told him to go to his class, and walked away. He cried out after me but I kept walking. I got in the van and drove out of the school parking lot. As I watched him from my rear view mirror, standing there, falling apart on the public school sidewalk, I felt my heart shattering.

Did I just do the right thing? This can't be right. If it was "right", would it hurt this much?

I had abandoned my little son to the world and to himself. I am his Mommy. I am his protector. His big person. His guardian. And I just left him.

What have I done?

I circled around and parked in front of the school where he couldn't see me, but I could watch him. He stood by his line, but hiding behind a tree around the corner from his classroom door. He was still crying, intermittently peeking to see what his class line was doing. I imagined him pondering what to do, whether to obey his mom and follow his peers to class, or to make a break for it.

I admit, I sat in the van, watching him, pondering myself. Do I let him be a big boy and learn a life lesson or do I sweep in and rescue him?

He made the decision for both of us as he followed his class into the building, but I drove away reeling from the entire plight.

Nothing felt "right".

The entire morning I fretted about him. Was he crying in class? Were the kids really being mean to him? Was my happy little son as friendless as he claimed to be? Or was this just a case of too much fun during Spring Break and the difficulty of his dad leaving town again?

It was so difficult to know. And I thought labor and delivery was the hard part of parenting. Nobody warned me about how insanely grievous it would be to drive away from your distraught first grader.

In an effort to make his day a little brighter and more positive, as well as to allay my own worries by seeing how he was faring, I picked up some McDonald's Happy Meals (one of his favorite treats) and surprised him at lunch time. He ran to me with a huge smile and an even bigger hug.

For all his tears, for all my heart break...he was perfectly fine.

He was so fine that he could hardly acknowledge my presence in the lunchroom as he happily chatted with his buddies (no friends, huh?). After about 5 or 10 minutes he asked if he could go to recess, leaving behind half of a Happy Meal and a mother who was wondering if she had wasted the energy, money, and gray hair on him.

But then I saw a grandmother who had the same idea I had. She munched quietly on her McDonald's while her granddaughter jabbered at her friends.

Oh. So my son is normal then? Oh good.

One day I want to speak with him about this day. I want him to understand how traumatic it was to see my little son so sick with worry and fear. How agonizing it was to do something so opposite and repulsive to my motherhood as physically pry his arms off of me. How it took all my might not to cry my own tears as I denied my own desires and abandoned him there.

I want to ask his forgiveness for walking away in his apparent moment of need, but I also want him to know that I did it hoping to make him a stronger man. I can only imagine that this experience is a small stepping stone to other moments that will be like it. Maybe even more grievous and grey than this "trivial" one. In hindsight it is rather trivial, even though it felt so monstrous yesterday morning. But as I replay the image of my small son standing on the sidewalk all alone in my rear view mirror, I can't imagine anything being as difficult in this life as being a parent.

Note to Self: Priorities

There are other things more important than blogging.

Note to Self: Halloween 2011

This is what the kids decided they wanted to be for Halloween...as of May 1st.



Dee.....Papa Bear
Jeigh.....Mama Bear
Elle.....Goldilocks (of course!)
Cee.....Baby Bear

Say it with me now: "Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

List of things for the real Mama Bear to do:

1. Remember this idea for the next six months.
2. Learn how to sew before October.
3. Keep an eye out for stray bears or at least bear costumes.
4. Make sure Elle's locks stay "goldy".

toothless

Dee lost his first tooth!






He was eating his ritual post-lunch green apple. All of the sudden he jumped up exclaiming "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!" He was too shocked to tell me what was wrong.

I couldn't figure out what was going on until I saw the bloody gap in his gaping mouth.

"Dee! You lost your tooth! So where is it? Uh oh. You really did LOSE your tooth!"

As we searched for a while I began to fear that he had swallowed his first lost tooth. Eventually we found it lodged in his apple.

It was almost as exciting as when he peed in the potty for the first time.

Or started walking.

Or smiled for the first time.

It makes me laugh to think how anxiously we waited for that little tooth to make its debut six years ago.

Now we celebrate as it falls out.

What a strange melancholy cycle parenthood is.

Gray Hair #437

Joe taught me a little trick right after we were married.

(Get your mind out of the gutter people!)

He showed me that the way to tell if your spaghetti noodles were done cooking was to gently throw one against the wall. (Have you heard of this method?)

If it falls off, the noodles need more time to cook.

If it sticks, the noodles are ready to drain and eat.

Handy, right?


Guess who else he taught this little technique to.

I Have Cute Kids

(Dee, Jeigh, cousin, Elle)

How "cute" you ask?

Or maybe you didn't ask, but lucky you, I'm going to tell you anyway.

Did you take a gander up at my blog header??? That's pretty darn tootin' cute, wouldn't you agree? It makes me smile so big that I can hardly see that all my little clouds are filled now. (A big thank you to my sister Erin for adding Cee!)

My heart is full.

Almost as full as my king-sized bed every morning.



(Tell me again why we even bought beds for the kids?)

Cee is two and a half months old now. She makes me drool. Like physically drool when I look at her gorgeous sparkling blue eyes peeking out from rows of dark thick eyelashes.



I blame her dad for those beautiful long lashes. And the receding hair line.

Tell me...Is it strange that I drool over her?

Not only that but also that I have to fight the urge to nibble on her a bit? I want to literally chomp down on her chubby cheeks and thighs.

All I can figure is this must be some urge leftover from my cave woman roots. That or someone ought to call CPS.

I find myself constantly emotional watching this little girl grow up right before my eyes. My newborn is rapidly disappearing and I can't seem to soak her in quick enough.

Pictures do no justice. A flat two dimensional piece of paper will never remind me how delicious she smells or how sweet the sounds of her coos are to my ears. I am bound to forget how funny her face is with shock when her fist flies up and pops her smack dab in between the eyes. She is already getting too long to perch on my shoulder in a little curled up ball of heavy and warm comfort anymore.

Bittersweet.

A newborn growing up is such a mixed bag of emotions. Sad to watch the sweet and brand-new go, but thrilled to see the growth and progression come.

We mommies are never quite content with the present.

{sigh}

I do have three other kids too. They seem to share Cee's total disregard for my commands to stop growing up so fast too.

The very day I verbalized this to Dee, we discovered he had his first loose tooth. How exciting and sad, all in the same moment. (By the way, what's the going rate for the Tooth Fairy these days?)

We just enrolled Dee in piano a couple of weeks ago. I already mentioned how discouraging the first practice was, but after the promise of a lunch out with Mommy he rallied his best efforts together and gave his first week of piano practice a first rate go. The lunch date was delivered and he seems to be sold on piano practice now.

I keep waiting for him to realize he could probably weasel more lunch dates out of me if he complained about practicing again, but so far so good. He really is such a good boy who tries so hard to please. I love my little son.

Dee and Jeigh both are getting ready to start their first season of soccer.



That's right! I'm officially a soccer mom! Oh boy.

The other day I walked into a room where the kids were all playing.

Dee: Mom! Jeigh told me a lie!

Me: She did? About what?

Dee: She said there was a chicken in the road. I looked. There's no chicken in the road.

Jeigh: I was telling a joke!


See? Cute!

Oh and Elle?



I didn't forget about her.

Just about everything that comes out of that girl's mouth makes us laugh.

"You straight trippin' Mama!" is Joe's personal favorite.

Mine has to be "I love you, Mama!" usually accompanied by a tender little hug and a very juicy kiss.

So cute, I could cry.

My Little...Pirate? Nothing says scurvy dog pirate like a cute little pink haired pony.

How to Give Super Nanny a Run For Her Money

(So, what are you thinking about my How-To Week so far? Is it a keeper?)

When my grandmother passed away, I inherited a lovely master bedroom set. The king -sized bed frame and mattress was a timely blessing as I met my future husband only a month later and would soon be in need of a matrimonial resting place. As grateful as I was for my inherited bed set, the twenty plus year old mattress was a little funky to sleep on, especially considering it came complete with body shapes already permanently formed on each side. As much as I loved my grandma, it was weird.

A few years later, we were able to afford a new mattress. Life just doesn't get much better when you have a new comfortable mattress. Especially a king-sized comfortable mattress. It didn't take long for our kids to realize this either and ever since we've spent few nights alone in our inherited/new/king-sized/comfortable bed.

I am a bed hog and I like my space, especially if it involves getting a good night's rest. I HATE having the kids in our bed. So, I set about devising a way to stop the sleepy stowaways this summer.

We had tried many other tactics, even Super Nanny's technique of repetitively taking them back to bed. We had tried the whole school of thought to make the night time visitors take a spot on the floor by our bed. They didn't care. They would curl up on the floor and as soon as we drifted off, they would sneak into our bed. We tried gentle reminders and angry demands. Nothing worked.

One day, it dawned upon me. It was so simple, I initially figured it wouldn't work. But wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles...IT DID! Take THAT Super Nanny!

How to Stop Co-sleeping in its Sleepy Little Tracks:


I have a few dry erase boards on my fridge. I told the kids that each night they would stay in their own beds ALL night that I would give them a star. After they had each earned seven stars we would go as a family to the local swimming pool that they had already been begging to go to.

They were instantly on board...until the middle of the first night when they both came creeping in, steadfast in their bad bed habits. After a few reminders of the star system and a few return trips to their bedroom, they started to catch on.

The next morning they anxiously asked if they could have a star. I'm a stickler. No stars for that night. They realized I was serious though and they tried harder the next night. Dee successfully stayed in his bed ALL night. Jeigh...not so much, but when she saw that Dee got his first star the next morning, she resolved to try harder.

Over the course of the next two weeks, they both earned all seven stars. As promised, off to the pool we went!


I was so proud of them for showing some self-control, discipline, and responsibility for their actions. And I was pretty proud of me for figuring out such a simple solution to end our sleep struggles. No money spent. No complicated charts (which I wouldn't have known how to make anyway). No spanking or anger.

And the idea stuck for several months after. To be honest, they are slipping back into their old wee-hours wandering ways, but now I know what I can do to stop my little sleepwalkers.

Give it a try! You will be amazed at how simple manipulating controlling helping your kids to overcome bad habits can be.

What the Wednesday

Did anyone else go about their entire day yesterday in complete ignorance that it was Wednesday?

Good heavens! Even the name of my blog post yesterday was "Ten Things Tuesday".

And not a single soul mentioned my little blunder. Either that makes you all very kind...Or that means no one is reading this stuff anyway.

So...It is Thursday then today, right? Does it happen to be Thursday where you live too?

Not that I have anything brilliant to say whether it is Wednesday or Thursday.

Today I think I am going to try to pull Fun Mommy out of the closet and give her a chance to show off her stuff as we attempt a few Halloween crafts, carving pumpkins, and baking sugar cookies. When wet paint, pumpkin goo, powdered sugar, and three little ones are involved Fun Mommy often gets roughly elbowed aside by Zero Patience Mommy. Let us hope Fun Mommy has the chops to take on a Wednesday Thursday like today.

What's your THURSDAY looking like?

Pretty Darn Precious Potty Training Post

We are in the midst of potty training at our house this week.

Don't worry! I won't be posting any "specimens" today. Looks like I am a little stuck on a tangent though, don't you think? Sorry about that. I'll try to up my classiness in the next several posts.

Anyway! Potty training. Don't you just loathe abhor fear love potty training? Me too. I would much rather go through labor and delivery again than potty train. At least that pain has an end, usually under 24 hours, and there are drugs available if it gets to be too much. There are no drugs for potty training. Heaven helps us.

Really I can't complain too much. Elle is training like a champ. Can you hear "Eye of the Tiger" playing in the background too? She may be the easiest yet, so I will count my blessings and pray that the yellow tide does not turn on us, as potty training so often does.

In relation to potty training, I was looking back through my Face book memories the other day and found this little gem.

This is Elle's big sister Jeigh at the very same age doing the very same thing, potty training, just two short years ago, even the very same time of year. Daddy Joe was entertaining her in attempt to keep her on the potty. This is the resulting memory. We like to call it Jeigh's Snowman of God Potty Song.

(Normally I don't condone posting pictures or videos of my children in "compromising" situations, but this is just too cute not to share and short of seeing the toilet behind her, nobody would know what she is doing besides singing her cute little two year old heart out).

Enjoy!

Pop Culture, Fashion, Parenting, and Aging According to Preschoolers

Yesterday morning I noticed a nasty little scratch on four year old Jeigh's forehead. When I questioned her on how she did it, with a sigh, she wistfully said, "I don't know, but it sure looks like Harry Potter, huh?"

... ... ...

Two Dollar Super Hero

The best two dollars I ever spent was on my recent thrift store adventure on a simple dark grey T-shirt emblazoned with the bright yellow and black Batman logo. Not really a fan of Caped Crusader wear myself, I bought it for my five year old Dee who immediately fell in love. Who knew what magical powers two dollars could conjure up for one five year old boy? The first day he wore it to school, this was his report on how his day had gone:

(With MUCH enthusiasm) "I showed all my buddies my Batman shirt!! They LOVED it! But my feet got tired from having to show so many people, so I didn't show everybody."

... ... ...

Pop it Like it's Hot

Dee is trying to convince his dad and me that this is the "cool way" to wear your collared shirts.


Dee: Hey Mom! Look at me! I'm an umpire!

Me: You mean 'vampire'?

Dee: Yea! I'm cool.

... ... ...

Hair Peace

Jeigh is learning to fix her own hair. She informed me that this is "Beautiful!"


Apparently middle-aged men aren't the only ones who dig the comb-over.

... ... ...

What Stay-at-Home Moms Really Do

I was sitting at the dinner table with my three children while we dived into the spaghetti and homemade bread sticks I had just spent the last half hour or so slaving over. (Okay. Well maybe not slaving, but it certainly was more involved and invested in than running out to McDonald's and dishing out Happy Meals to my little brood.)

Joe being the working dad he is was at (where else?) work. The kids had particularly noticed his absence at the dinner table and began to make some assumptions about his whereabouts and how the world works in general.

Dee: Daddies work. All daddies work a lot.

Jeigh: Yea. Daddies are always gone at work. They work hard.

Me (just out of curiosity): Oh yeah? So what do mommies do?

Jeigh: They don’t work. They never work.

Dee (laughing): Yeah. They just love to eat!

Thanks Dee. Thanks a lot.

... ... ...

Caution: Men at Breakfast


Who knew breakfast could be so hazardous?

... ... ...

Age is Just a Hair Color

Dee: Hey Mom? Me and Jeigh are young, aren't we?

Me: Yep, you are.

Dee: Mom are you young?

Me: Nope. I'm old.

Dee: No, you're not. You don't have white hair.

Me: Dee, you don't have to have white hair to be old.

Dee: Well, okay, then you're not super old...Yet.

Passing On the Morning Baton and Who is the Poop Pro?

As a newlywed, I worked nights in the emergency department of our city's hospital. I loved my job! I loved my coworkers! One particular coworker was incredibly kind and generous to me and everybody else. I just couldn't understand how she did it all: worked full-time nights, went to school, mothered three little girls, and still managed to be among the living.

I asked her one day how she did it. She mentioned that her oldest was five and perfectly capable of taking care of herself while her tired mom was catching up on an hour or two of sleep. Not having any experience with children of my own yet and knowing this lady was anything but a deadbeat mom, I figured five must be the magical age a child could start taking care of themselves in such things as serving food for themselves and getting ready for the day.

Then I had a five year old...


NO WAY!

But this morning when my five year old Dee walked into my bedroom at 6:51 am asking to be fed and dressed I was compelled to conduct a little experiment. I had been up multiple times through the night with his two younger sisters and in no mood to leap from my warm bed to wait on him.

I also keep remembering (with a slight sense of horror) that in a very short three months there may be another little sister (or brother) here wreaking havoc on my night time peace and morning mentality. It was high-time to see if my co-worker friend was onto something.

"Dee, you do it."

"What???"

"You're a big boy. You go find your clothes and get dressed. Then eat breakfast and brush your teeth."

"Are you sure, Mom?"

"Positive. Now go and do."

Sounding a little unsure: "Well oooookay, Mom."

I laid in bed, refusing to open my eyes, but certainly not about to fall asleep again. Let's see listen how this goes.

In fifteen seconds he was back. "Mom, I can't find my pants."

"Then go eat breakfast first." I heard him wander back to the kitchen.

"Mom, I can't find a bowl."

"They are in the dishwasher, Dee."

"Okay."

In a few seconds I heard the clothes dryer opening. "They're not here, Mom".

"That's the clothes dryer, Dee! Check the dishwasher where the dishes usually are."

"Found one!"

Pretty soon I heard the glass tap of one bowl on the table immediately followed by the metallic tap of a spoon. Then a second glass tap and a second metallic tap. Then a third. And a fourth. Knowing full well a mess was in the making, I chose to snuggle down deeper in my blankets and leave the boy to his own devices. Besides if I hover we may never know if he can truly do this.

Soon the sound of cereal and milk could be heard. So, the boy can feed himself. Interesting.

In minutes he was back in search of pants. Knowing I had just washed every last piece of clothing in our house the day before, I informed him there was a clean dry pair in the dryer. You know, the dryer... where we keep bowls.

With eyes still clenched shut, I hear him wander back in claiming he was dressed (looks like he can dress himself too...who knew?) and wanting me to help him get his boots on.

"Go brush your teeth first". Teeth brushed. Add brushing teeth on the list of things Mommy no longer has to supervise.

Since he had brushed his own teeth I felt certain his face was in a state of disarray. No peeking yet. "Go get a washcloth and wash off your face".

"Okay Mommy...{water running}...All done!" Well that was easy.

Then he was back at my side, boots in hand. If I could have figured out a way to tie them with my eyes shut, I may have done it. Instead I opened them to see how my big five year old had done.

He looked good! And happy!


I sneaked a glance at the clock. And all done in twenty minutes?! That's got to be a record! All ready and no "Come on Dee! You need to hurry. Dee! You are going to be late! Hurry up!"

Looks like my friend was right: Five year olds are capable of taking care of themselves!

Just not the rest of the house...






Extra points to Dee for putting his bowl "in" the sink after breakfast.


And bonus points for feeding his sisters too!


Let's not forget Mommy! Extra points to Mommy for letting go and not hovering! And bonus points for having enough time to take a shower before school!

*** *** ***

Lest you thought I forgot... Are you wondering who won the diaper game? Who is The Poop Pro??


No one guessed Milky Way MIDNIGHT (the only kind of Milky Way worth human consumption...in my humble opinion), but I won't hold that against you. Many of you came close. But only one person got all four.

The person who performed with the most particular poop prowess was...Lisa from The Thomas Tribe! With two kids and one on the way, I imagine she's changed a few diapers...or eaten a few chocolate bars. Either way, CONGRATS TO LISA! Your prize will be in the mail shortly.

Thanks everybody for the "poop" play! Now, who's hungry? Maybe Dee could make my lunch too...

Because Sometimes Poop is Just Dang Funny.

Being a mom, you just kind of have to have a sense of humor about poop.

Because really there is nothing funny about the never-ending messy diapers, the explosions, the smell, finding nasty brown messes in mysterious and well-hidden (or almost as bad: not-so-well-hidden locations). But if you don't laugh, you cry...or puke, right?

But maybe poop can be funny. Just look at what it takes to keep a bunch of Scouts interested at day camp.


Or how about my favorite baby shower game?


Have you ever played this game at a baby shower? The game involves passing around diapers full of "poop" and guessing what's really in the diaper. Have you ever watched a room full of "ladies" examining and sniffing "poopy" diapers? Now, you can't tell me that that's not funny.

Can you guess what the "poop" is here? No smelling or touching allowed! (Hint: All four "specimens" are fairly common candy bars). How about we make a little contest out of it, eh? Whoever can guess all the diapers right, gets a prize in the mail from me. And no, I won't leave it in a flaming paper sack on your doorstep in the middle of the night. Just leave your answers in a comment below. If there are more than one people with particular poop prowess, I'll pick with the help of random.org.

Are you game?


And speaking of baby showers, my sister Erin and her husband Kip came up with this hilarious little baby shower favor for our little sister's recent baby shower.


Here's the how to:

You will need one washcloth, one diaper pin, and a handful of tootsie rolls.


Fold the washcloth in half to make a triangle.


Fold up bottom.


Fold in both sides, overlapping over bottom and each other.


Pin bottom and sides with one diaper pin.

Prop up "diaper" and fill with unwrapped tootsie rolls. You could leave the candy wrapped too, but unwrapping them makes it so much more visually...appealing?


See! Poop can be funny!

Speaking of poop, looks like Elle could use some "attention", if you know what I mean.

{sigh} You know how a joke can get really old? Yeah.