It was obvious that the widespread downpours meant that the older two boys did not get out on the playground at school this morning, because it took less than five minutes upon arrival back at home before they were wrestling and tackling each other.
Several times I thought about breaking it up, but figured that we'd be eating lunch soon enough and it was good for them to at least get a few minutes of energy out. I decided to kept my eye on them and listen instead.
About two minutes later I witnessed Tigger tackle Tadpole and inadvertently whack him in the crotch region. I waited for the scream, but instead Tadpole, in a very calm, adult-like voice, said, "Be careful! You can hurt a man like that."
Wonder who they picked that up from.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The Upside
Last night was rough, a trend lately, it seems. I was up four or five times (who's counting) in the night, and all six of my family members were awake from 4-5am.
The reason for everyone being up at 4, but not the reason for my blog, was this: Hubby trying to calm a screaming baby, me changing a stinky nappy on Cubby, and suddenly during those events, a wild scream from Tadpole who unusually fell out of bed, woke his frightened brother Tigger, and greeted me in his doorway with a blood covered mouth (he somehow managed to cut his lip and chin).
So this morning, Hubby asked me for the following information: how much sleep I got (he sweetly asks me this daily, as my level of exhaustion is a top concern for him, albeit somewhat out of his control) and the rundown on everyone's ailments.
I launch into the list: I was in bed eight hours, but awake nearly three of those. Tadpole has been coughing all night and since he woke up, feels sluggish, and has a gash on his lip and chin. Tigger seems to be fine, but told me that he "did not get enough sleep" (that means trouble by about 3pm today) and promptly upon waking had a bad bout of the dreaded runs. Cubby happens to have eczema on his bum, compounded by horrific nappy rash that sprung up overnight and has left his bum nearly raw. He also awoke with a diaper blowout and a terribly runny nose. Quatro is on day 15 of a bad body-covering rash, continues to run a slight fever after the four shots he had on Tuesday, is coughing like his eldest brother, and is generally cranky because he just cut his first tooth and is in all likelihood, since teeth arrive in pairs, cutting his second one.
My husband looked at me wide-eyed (probably thinking to himself that he's glad to have to go to work today) and simply commented, "There's one positive to all of that." I couldn't imagine what in the world it would be, when he responded, "It will make a really interesting blog entry."
I suppose that's one way to look at it...
The reason for everyone being up at 4, but not the reason for my blog, was this: Hubby trying to calm a screaming baby, me changing a stinky nappy on Cubby, and suddenly during those events, a wild scream from Tadpole who unusually fell out of bed, woke his frightened brother Tigger, and greeted me in his doorway with a blood covered mouth (he somehow managed to cut his lip and chin).
So this morning, Hubby asked me for the following information: how much sleep I got (he sweetly asks me this daily, as my level of exhaustion is a top concern for him, albeit somewhat out of his control) and the rundown on everyone's ailments.
I launch into the list: I was in bed eight hours, but awake nearly three of those. Tadpole has been coughing all night and since he woke up, feels sluggish, and has a gash on his lip and chin. Tigger seems to be fine, but told me that he "did not get enough sleep" (that means trouble by about 3pm today) and promptly upon waking had a bad bout of the dreaded runs. Cubby happens to have eczema on his bum, compounded by horrific nappy rash that sprung up overnight and has left his bum nearly raw. He also awoke with a diaper blowout and a terribly runny nose. Quatro is on day 15 of a bad body-covering rash, continues to run a slight fever after the four shots he had on Tuesday, is coughing like his eldest brother, and is generally cranky because he just cut his first tooth and is in all likelihood, since teeth arrive in pairs, cutting his second one.
My husband looked at me wide-eyed (probably thinking to himself that he's glad to have to go to work today) and simply commented, "There's one positive to all of that." I couldn't imagine what in the world it would be, when he responded, "It will make a really interesting blog entry."
I suppose that's one way to look at it...
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Wait in Line!
Today, we hogged the swingset - my boys took up all the swings at the playground! Luckily the line of kids waiting to use it wasn't too long.
This will be a lot easier when a few of them learn to propel themselves!
This will be a lot easier when a few of them learn to propel themselves!
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Inevitable
It was bound to happen, and today was the day.
Capping off a return home from the grandparents for Thanksgiving, a work day full of time-consuming projects that would not be finished and required multiple trips to Home Depot, mommy with the flu and a sore throat not allowing her much voice, daddy with an aching back, high out-of-daddy's-reach (ack! dangerous!) tree climbing by Tadpole, excessive whining from a cold-stricken Tigger with red chapped cheeks, 2-year old Cubby's post birthday party letdown, and itchy day 11 of baby Quatro's who-knows-what-caused-it rash, was this:
Tadpole decided to experiment with how much toilet paper he could stuff into the potty. And the floods came. And the mommy screamed for help. And the rugs got soaked. And the realization that we have no plunger hit. And the daddy had to reach in and fish out all the jammed toilet paper. And the bathroom had to be cleaned. And the floors had to be mopped. And the washing machine had to be utilized.
Thank goodness Baba was here to rescue us and show us how to shut the water off quickly before the water reached the hallway carpet. (In the moment, grabbing the camera was far from my mind. Bummer.)
To his credit, we probably have never point blank explained to Tadpole that the toilet cannot handle more than a few wipes worth of paper. He did look wide-eyed and innocent enough when we called him down from his tall tree to investigate the damage and threaten him that it had better not EVER happen again.
But with three more younger, curious boys? Ah, should I be so lucky...
Capping off a return home from the grandparents for Thanksgiving, a work day full of time-consuming projects that would not be finished and required multiple trips to Home Depot, mommy with the flu and a sore throat not allowing her much voice, daddy with an aching back, high out-of-daddy's-reach (ack! dangerous!) tree climbing by Tadpole, excessive whining from a cold-stricken Tigger with red chapped cheeks, 2-year old Cubby's post birthday party letdown, and itchy day 11 of baby Quatro's who-knows-what-caused-it rash, was this:
Tadpole decided to experiment with how much toilet paper he could stuff into the potty. And the floods came. And the mommy screamed for help. And the rugs got soaked. And the realization that we have no plunger hit. And the daddy had to reach in and fish out all the jammed toilet paper. And the bathroom had to be cleaned. And the floors had to be mopped. And the washing machine had to be utilized.
Thank goodness Baba was here to rescue us and show us how to shut the water off quickly before the water reached the hallway carpet. (In the moment, grabbing the camera was far from my mind. Bummer.)
To his credit, we probably have never point blank explained to Tadpole that the toilet cannot handle more than a few wipes worth of paper. He did look wide-eyed and innocent enough when we called him down from his tall tree to investigate the damage and threaten him that it had better not EVER happen again.
But with three more younger, curious boys? Ah, should I be so lucky...
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Speaking of Surprises...
And now for the shocking surprise: the night I described just yesterday in my post? The night in which I had an early waking baby, unexpected cuddler, and the need for a wee hours shower with my poo-covered one year old? Yeah, well that EXACT same scenario happened again last night. Yes, including the blow-out and shower!!!
Here's to an ueventful night tonight (translate: quiet, calm, and with more than four hours of sleep).
Here's to an ueventful night tonight (translate: quiet, calm, and with more than four hours of sleep).
Monday, November 23, 2009
Oh What a Night
Was thinking tonight about how amusing (I’m trying to see the humor in this) are the ‘surprises’ that await me in the night these days versus 10 years ago.
Ten years ago it looked like this: a phone call from a friend at 2am upset about her horrible late-night chat with an ex-boyfriend, a spontaneous decision at 10pm to go meet some friends out for a drink, a movie marathon with my roommates at midnight on Friday because we’re awake and bored and hey, we can sleep in the next day… you get the idea, and I’m trying to keep it tame here.
Nowadays it looks like this: unexpected inconsolable cries from the baby who doesn’t usually wake up as early as 9pm, whining at 5am from my four year old whose covers are messed up, little boys crawling into my bed at midnight wanting a cuddle because they just had a bad dream… or, like last night (wait, all of these things happened last night) a full blown shower and a stinky load of laundry at 2am because my one year old just had a massive diaper blowout requiring immediate attention.
Yeah, my nights are certainly a bit different these days.
Ten years ago it looked like this: a phone call from a friend at 2am upset about her horrible late-night chat with an ex-boyfriend, a spontaneous decision at 10pm to go meet some friends out for a drink, a movie marathon with my roommates at midnight on Friday because we’re awake and bored and hey, we can sleep in the next day… you get the idea, and I’m trying to keep it tame here.
Nowadays it looks like this: unexpected inconsolable cries from the baby who doesn’t usually wake up as early as 9pm, whining at 5am from my four year old whose covers are messed up, little boys crawling into my bed at midnight wanting a cuddle because they just had a bad dream… or, like last night (wait, all of these things happened last night) a full blown shower and a stinky load of laundry at 2am because my one year old just had a massive diaper blowout requiring immediate attention.
Yeah, my nights are certainly a bit different these days.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!
Here's one that I can't figure out. Tigger, newly three, is going through a phase where he changes his clothes numerous times in any given day.
I would not at all think of him as clothing obsessed, fashion forward, or a budding designer. He doesn't change clothes to play dress up, and he's not girly in an "oooh-let's-try-THIS-cute-number-on" way.
It is, in fact, so subtle that I barely noticed it coming on until I started wondering what's with the 20% increase in laundry and why doesn't Tigger ever have any "short pants" in his drawer.
My powers of observation were clearly focused on my own personal workload, not my son's appearance.
One day I clued in, though, because I had specifically noted (and wondered if I should meddle with the fact) that he had oddly selected orange shorts and a red t-shirt to wear to school in the morning. I do typically make it a rule to let my kids choose what they wish to wear, only directing them if it is not appropriate for the occasion or the weather.
Not fifteen minutes after he was ready, he disappeared into the bedroom and came out wearing a different shirt. I asked him why he changed, hoping in that short span of time he had been gifted with newfound fashion sense, but figuring that perhaps he had just spilled pancake syrup all over the tee.
He replied by just shrugging his shoulders and making an adorable “who knows!” kind of face, and went about his business. At which I made it MY business to investigate. The t-shirt was perfectly clean, thrown into the dirty clothes hamper. Hmmm.
Must’ve been a random fluke, and I’ve got better things to focus on, I thought to myself. Plus, in the spirit of my new fave book The Power of Positive Parenting, I decided not to draw attention to it, since behavior that is given attention is typically repeated.
But the next day I noticed this clothes change again. So I started watching more closely. Tigger would disappear for quiet time or to go potty or in search of a toy, and emerge from the bedroom with something new on. Socks, underwear, shorts, shirts… but something. I have counted up to 9 changes in one day. All for no apparent reason.
I have confronted him a few times, always with the same nonchalance and simply replies.
Honestly, it’s like he just gets completely BORED with the item and is ready to move on. It’s seriously the only explanation I can come up with.
Needless to say, I have started requesting his help with the laundry. Luckily he thinks hurling clothes into various baskets and then into a huge whirling drum is kinda fun.
I would not at all think of him as clothing obsessed, fashion forward, or a budding designer. He doesn't change clothes to play dress up, and he's not girly in an "oooh-let's-try-THIS-cute-number-on" way.
It is, in fact, so subtle that I barely noticed it coming on until I started wondering what's with the 20% increase in laundry and why doesn't Tigger ever have any "short pants" in his drawer.
My powers of observation were clearly focused on my own personal workload, not my son's appearance.
One day I clued in, though, because I had specifically noted (and wondered if I should meddle with the fact) that he had oddly selected orange shorts and a red t-shirt to wear to school in the morning. I do typically make it a rule to let my kids choose what they wish to wear, only directing them if it is not appropriate for the occasion or the weather.
Not fifteen minutes after he was ready, he disappeared into the bedroom and came out wearing a different shirt. I asked him why he changed, hoping in that short span of time he had been gifted with newfound fashion sense, but figuring that perhaps he had just spilled pancake syrup all over the tee.
He replied by just shrugging his shoulders and making an adorable “who knows!” kind of face, and went about his business. At which I made it MY business to investigate. The t-shirt was perfectly clean, thrown into the dirty clothes hamper. Hmmm.
Must’ve been a random fluke, and I’ve got better things to focus on, I thought to myself. Plus, in the spirit of my new fave book The Power of Positive Parenting, I decided not to draw attention to it, since behavior that is given attention is typically repeated.
But the next day I noticed this clothes change again. So I started watching more closely. Tigger would disappear for quiet time or to go potty or in search of a toy, and emerge from the bedroom with something new on. Socks, underwear, shorts, shirts… but something. I have counted up to 9 changes in one day. All for no apparent reason.
I have confronted him a few times, always with the same nonchalance and simply replies.
Honestly, it’s like he just gets completely BORED with the item and is ready to move on. It’s seriously the only explanation I can come up with.
Needless to say, I have started requesting his help with the laundry. Luckily he thinks hurling clothes into various baskets and then into a huge whirling drum is kinda fun.
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