Assault and "Buttery"

I know that there are all these warnings about the "terrible twos." I have four other children, so you would think that I would be a seasoned veteran by now. But, NO! This current terrorizing toddler is absolute hellfire! Just ask my neighbor who was helping clean up at my house after a church meeting.

We had a chef come and talk to our ladies group about using herbs and spices and he brought a variety of whipped herb butters for us to try. So my little guy decided to climb up and dip both of his hands in some whipped butter. When my sweet neighbor tried to get him out of it, he used his head like a battering ram and split her bottom lip clear open. She bled like a son of a gun and eventually cried. Later she said that it had made her feel nauseated and dizzy. I was a wee bit embarrassed that I hadn't thought to warn her about my son being a deadly weapon, but who knew that he was going to commit assault and "buttery" on her that night. She knew he threw temper tantrums, but not cranial attacks. Three days later, her lip still looked very painful.

He is using his head quite a bit lately for demolition and tantrums, which wouldn't be such a big deal if he didn't have the family blessing/curse of having a huge dome.

Oh the joys of child rearing! Never a dull moment.

All this talk of butter makes me want some toast. Strange how the brain works, isn't it?

The Sting of Laundry

I don't know what those construction guys were thinking when they built our laundry room, but they were not definitely not deep thinkers. We have a three car garage, operating on the theory that if you want one car to park in the garage, you get a double bay and two cars, you get a third bay. That is how real life works. Well, our builder must not add the third bay very often, because the finished product is a testimony of that ignorance. A typical ducting is run through the wall and outside with a minimum of turns to help prevent the lint from clogging. Logical, right? Our ducting runs into the wall, up the wall and outside through a vent on the ROOF of the third car garage! Hello, idiots! So our dryer is very inefficient due to the lame-brained confusing configuration of dumb ducting. True story.

We have purchased all of the necessary parts, hoses, clamps, etc., to reroute the ducting out of the house on the ground level. We have left all of those components in the trunk of the car in the hopes that the repair will complete itself. Not a very good plan, but that is how it works with five kids, a husband in full-time college and my oldest son gone 15+ hours a week for football. Did I mention that I work three nights a week? I was bored and needed a job to keep me busy (yeah, right).

Benjamin has also been wetting the bed every morning for over two weeks to make sure that the laundry room has a constant workload. I have been using the inefficient dryer along with my solar clothes dryer. That is fancy wording for "clothesline." I started using a clothesline when we lived in California during the "Gray outs" when electricity costs were sky high, so I have some experience.

I had a load on the line for two days. It got wet with the sprinklers in the morning, so I left it on. Then it got wet with the evening sprinklers, and left on again. This morning, I took off what was dry and put washed bedding out. I remembered to bring everything in in the afternoon, but didn't get around to folding until after 10:30 p.m. As I was turning an orange shirt right-side-out, my knuckle got an instant stinging feeling and I yanked back my hand. I couldn't think of why my hand would start hurting like that, then I figured it out. My hand got stung three times last year and my back had two stings the year before that. I threw the shirt on the ground and a hornet fell out. Then it saw a blur of tread and was nearly dead. Payback is a #@!$^*! as they say. I put its mostly squashed body outside and walked away from the laundry for a while.

Washing clothes is a love/hate relationship. I love being a good provider for my family, but the constant workload is intense. Having a hornet sting my knuckle while folding clothes at the sacrifice of my sacred sleep is just adding insult to injury, not a good equation. Stupid bug. Tomorrow when I go out to work in the backyard, I think that I will step on it again.

Birthday Boy

My son Ben is ten years old now. It seems like only yesterday that he was a little "alien" in an ultrasound photo. Now he has been a prisoner in his own mind for a whole decade.

He is getting too big for us to handle on our own. We are facing some very big decisions for his future and ours. If I had one wish, one dream to be fulfilled as I blew out candles on a cake...it would be this: That a key could be found to unlock that mental barrier. Better yet, that I could use a battering ram to vanquish useless synapses. I wish that I knew how to do...anything, anything at all to help him. It seems like a losing battle, but one that can't be lost for his sake, for our sakes.

I have hope and hopelessness. I have anger and sadness, regret and resolve. I have mixed emotions, to say the least.

Tomorrow is a new day, not a birthday, but a regular day. One more 24 hour time period to survive. That is what we are doing now, surviving, with style.




http://www.flickr.com/photos/sleepishly/2656467632/

Cyber Distaste

I saw a T.V. segment about a woman's blog that brings in $40k a week. She has huge sponsors like McDonald's, WalMart and Target. Curiosity piqued, I checked out her blog. The first few I read were ordinary and docile with a photo of her baby girl and a couple of lines. I read one about breastfeeding vs. formula that made me laugh out loud and sent it to my sister.

After that email, I read a few more and found vulgar comments and foul language that made me regretful that I had sent my innocent little sister to pollute her mind in cyber distaste. So here is my point...why the language lady? Don't people know how much the "f" word cheapens them? Yeah, so you are just speaking your mind, not caring what other people think, blah, blah, blah. I think that it takes a keen intellect to be able to express yourself in descriptions, analogies, humor, and colorful storytelling. On the other hand, I think that anyone with two brain cells to rub together can spew out cuss words and vulgarities. They teach potty mouth early on in every public school education, but that doesn't make it a good thing to learn.

I remember when Bill Cosby was in the news criticizing his African-American counterparts who spoke "Ebonics." He said that it took them back hundreds of years to when his people weren't well educated. In essence, it devalued all of the progress that they have made toward equality. That is a tragedy. How we speak, carry ourselves and present our ideas to others, adds or detracts from our perceived intelligence. If the President started a speech with "Yo, homey! How's it hangin'?" his authority would definitely be questioned. (Not that we shouldn't question him A LOT anyway!).

So McDonald's, what are you doing putting your endorsement on a blog that encourages the degradation of intelligence and promotion of foul lanquage and vulgar comments? Wally World, are you discounting your standards as well as your products? Why don't you be a no-vice leader as well as a low price leader? And Target, I think that you really missed the mark on this one! Think again people, in Nice vs. Vice, vote for good, the way that you always should. Now play nice!

I think that Wendy's and Kmart will be getting my business for a while.

"Veggies" Rot Your Brain

I know that every pyramid put out by the government tells us to eat plenty of vegetables to help us be healthy, but when can a good thing become too much of a good thing? When veggies get their own video series that your autistic son watches over and over adnauseam (that means it makes me sick!). My four year old yells "Not Veggie Tales! I want Thomas!!!" Or, heaven forbid, how about just leaving the T.V. on PBS? While I am wishing out loud, dreaming the impossible dream and planning how to spend my lottery winnings, how about some grown up television? Once upon a time, I remember watching shows with plots and dialogue, complex relationships and characters with arms and legs. Now I watch singing and dancing limbless legumes and articulate asparagus' (Asparagui or asparagusses?, see what I mean? My brain is gone). Is there any escape?

We try letting the other children watch their shows on a different T.V. or on the computer, but Ben is master of all. If it is in his realm, he dictates what is being viewed. How, you ask? Simply by stalking close by, waiting for a moment of weakness or a breach in security, then making his move. It is the same technique that he uses for stealing other people's food. I can't stand guard all of the time. I guard the T.V. for Wheel of Fortune occasionally, but it is exhausting to keep up that level of security for all viewing.

This persistance is why we are on our seventh DVD/VCR player, because he won't leave them alone. We also just spent a nice chunk of money repairing our portable DVD player and the small, yet sturdy, T.V./DVD combo that has been dragged down the stairs twice by its cord. It has such a strong will to live, that we just had to fix it. Plus, it was half the cost of replacing it. We just monitor how many movies that he has access to because apparently three at a time is just too many. We keep one player downstairs locked in a cabinet and the portable in the locked kitchen cupboard that I call the "forbidden cupboard." The combo one is upstairs in our always locked bedroom, so occasionally he can be upstairs with Dad and the rest of us can access the electronics.

I know that he will grow out of this stage like he did the Teletubbies, Blue's Clues and Disney CARS obsessions, but I'm ready to move on now! Those Veggies are rotting my brain!



http://www.flickr.com/photos/stickerart/3623387716/ Picture source

Hole in Fun

It's that time of year again, when getting dirty is all part of the fun.

We are gardening again after our long winter vacation. I have been digging a hole for an apricot tree for days now. Our dirt becomes rock hard about one foot down. Everytime I dig a hole, I grow two-legged creatures that are very unusual. One of them tries to garden wearing Hello Kitty platform flip flops. One creature thinks that dirt and small pebbles are excellent snack foods, especially mixed with a drippy nose from incoming chompers. The third one can't wait to have the tree in the ground so that he can christen it, boy style. Or is that dog-style? Oh, potty training what an amusing journey you are.




I am learning patience, oh yes. Patience is required while planting seeds around toddlers with shovels and babies with happy feet. I am patient as my daughter hunts for worms, rolly pollies and lady bugs when she is supposed to be putting seeds in the ground or fetching a tool for me.

My aunt once mispelled a word in her blog calling her plantings a field of impatience, not a field of impatiens. How true that is! If we choose to dwell on the weeds that grow amidst the beneficial seeds that we nurture, we will only harvest resentment and discord.

The moral of this story? "Let them be little," as a country singer named Billy Dean sings. "They're only that way for a while." So I take a lot of pictures with my kids sitting in my still empty holes, then tomorrow, I will buy a little fence for my newly planted seeds. I will just be happy with growing a family that likes to be together, a little dirty, but together.

Thank goodness for my garden gate that comes with a nice latch on it too.

The Spoken Word

One Sunday we were late for the beginning of Sacrament meeting and we were in the foyer. It was me, my three youngest and their uncle Kurt. My baby indicated forcefully that he wanted to nurse, so as soon as we had received the bread and water, we snuck into the mother's lounge. I got situated and was feeding his Majesty the Starving One and J.B. and Mimi were standing over by the light switch, so J.B. could participate in his favorite light show. I used the phrase "Do not body slam your sister" a few times, to help keep the peace.

A voice came over the loud speaker (our 82 year old Bishop) in the room that keeps the lactating ladies in touch with the outside world. "Do you hear that J.B.? That is church that you can hear. Do you know who's voice that is?" You could see his thoughts forming. His face lit up with realization and he said..."Jesus?"

Christ is a real-life, living, breathing, entity to these little primary children. Is He for the rest of us? Deep thought.

Leprechaun Offspring

We celebrate St. Patrick's Day each year in our own special ways, but this year was unique even for us. Our traditional meal is not that nasty corned beef trash, but GREEN meat loaf, GREEN mashed potatoes and gravy, GREEN jello, salad with avocado and a GREEN vegetable. Great additions would be Green Goddess salad dressing, kiwi and limeade, etc. Anything green is welcome. We used to make green breakfast, but it was very disturbing to eat bright green pancakes, eggs and milk. The meatloaf is a more natural looking shade of green somehow, but the potatoes still have a strange look to them.

The recipe for my SubLIME Jello is at the end of this blog. It is yummy! This year I pureed apricots from my own tree for the recipe, which is epic.

My first grade daughter Mimi's class had a Leprechaun visit this year and mess up their room. He put chairs on the teachers desks, stacked the students' chairs, put things askew and left gold foil covered coins for the kids. That was a few days before the 17th. Then Leprechauns came again on St. Patrick's day. Each one left a note for the first graders. My daughter got a letter from Lily the Leprechaun. They had read a book that said the little people are the size of a human thumb, very strong and full of mischief.

At home, Mimi built a trap in the garden to trap a Leprechaun and a playground in the dirt for their nighttime outings. We never saw or caught one of the wee folk, but we did find some Andy's mints that they left Mimi in the trap she rigged. Andy is probably an Irish mint maker and that's why they chose that particular kind of candy, I guess.

So here is how this whole Leprechaun experience applies to life at our house...

While preparing our green grub, I was immersed in stress as I usually am at mealtimes with strong-willed children under foot. Benj and J.B. were "starving to death" and trying to eat any snack food they could get their hands on, the baby was fussing, Mimi was missing in action and my oldest was at sports practice. Amidst all the joy of zoo keeping in the kitchen, J.B. takes a FULL hard plastic 2 gallon water jug and drops it on the ground. It exploded like a bomb full of nails hitting hard rock and covered the floor in about two seconds. To say that I was a little distressed would be a gargantuan understatement. I kicked everyone out of the kitchen, and put J.B. in the backyard with the slider locked until I could clean the flooded floor without him splashing in the puddles. My oldest came home and brought me towels and we saved the day, but what "joy" I had in the meantime. Dinner was late, to say the least, but still yummy, (if you don't count the meatloaf briquettes that I made, which I don't because they were dry, but not inedible).

I have come to a strange conclusion about my three-year-old given his tendency toward mischief making. Maybe he is the offspring of a Leprechaun! I did have an Irish great-grandmother in my family tree. Maybe there is a recessive gene from one of the little people that chose to emerge in my generation. If I can just hang on until his adulthood, perhaps we will find that elusive pot of gold and he can help finance my retirement years.



St. Patty's Sublime Jello

1 Box lime jello
1 can Kern's Apricot Nectar (11.5 oz in aluminum soda can)
Assorted non-acidic fruit (Optional)

Prepare jello according to package directions, except using apricot nectar instead of cold water. (If you are using a family size box of gelatin, use nectar and any additional water needed to make the 2 cups of liquid). I prepare the jello in a large glass measuring cup so I can pour it into individual containers and also because any unmixed powder stays in my original container and not the finished product. Add fruit immediately and refrigerate until set.


Source for Image: http://www.flickr.com/photos/pcka/3375900731/

Dental Surgery

My son Benjamin had his third dental surgery this morning. He lets the dentist look in his mouth, but that is about it. His first surgery was less than a year after we moved here when he was about 6 years old. He had to get four fillings and four crowns at a full retail price tag of about $10k. The second one, he only had a cleaning and sealants applied. This time he got a cleaning and a filling fixed, so not too bad. We have private insurance on him and medicaid. We don't use medicaid for the other kids, because they are a lot less complicated and expensive.

Ben's first surgery was an unknown. We were very concerned that the "mask" would totally freak him out, so they gave him an anesthetic in a shot instead. While he was in the operating room, the anesthesiologist found that Ben's airways are much smaller than he first thought and require infant-sized tubing rather than child-sized. So Ben's airways were more aggravated than normal. The procedure went well, but recovery did not. I was there alone, seven months pregnant with J.B., because my husband had thrown his back out the day before. Benj wouldn't stay awake. He would wake up and throw up bile and blood and fall back asleep. Our procedure had been at 8:00 a.m. and by early afternoon, we were still there. Finally, around two or three, I was told that we could go home if someone could sit in the back with Benjamin and monitor him so that he wouldn't choke or anything. My husband came, walking carefully and crookedly and we took our boy home. He slept for most of two days and for two days after that, barely slept at all. Obviously the anesthetic was much more effective than anticiipated. We never know how chemicals will affect him. he is wired differently than the rest of us.

We learned from our first experience and used the mask with the second surgery. We even had blood work done while he was unconscious. We tested him for allergies to foods so that we could know if we should try a gluten-free diet. His results came back negative, thankfully. That gluten-free stuff is not my first choice by any means. That surgery was pretty uneventful just like today's. Hallelujah.


We did bloodwork this time too to check for any signs of diabetes because he is so overweight and urinates very frequently. We want to catch things as early as possible and prevent if we can.

In a few years when we do this again, they want to use the shot again because he is getting so big. That will be fun.

Plop on the Pergo

My three-year-old came downstairs dressed like Adam, without a fig leaf, and announces "I pooped on the floor." This is not a new occurrence in my illustrious career, So I grab the wipes and head upstairs to assess the damage.

"I peed on the stairs." That was obvious, so a towel is put down and pressure applied, then I continue upstairs. Wood floors are the perfect surface for random toileting acts. It could have been much worse. I scoop up the two little poop logs and my daughter helps by using a towel to get the liquid. The baby plays close by and is gracious not to get in the way. It was easy.

At least five minutes later...J.B.comes down again with his little brother close behind him. "The baby ate my poop," he says. Yeah, right! Then I smell the baby's hand and notice some brown stuff on his face. We had pizza for dinner with red sauce. I immediately send my oldest son and his friend upstairs to look for anything that I might have missed and they find nothing.

Mimi comes down and I told her that J.B. says the baby ate his poop. She says "Oh yeah, he did Mom. He picked it up and put it in his mouth and it made him choke. Then he dropped it." I questioned her about why she didn't mention this while I was up doing hazardous waste containment. I hadn't noticed any bite marks or other indicators on my own, so I didn't think to ask. She apparently didn't think it was that big of a deal to report on. I happen to think that when your fourteen month old eats poop that it is a matter of huge importance. What crappy communication, literally.

As for the baby, he seems to have no lasting trauma from this fecal fiasco. He demonstrated his full recovery by splashing in the upstairs toilet. Obviously he ain't afeared of...nothin'.





(Photo source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gregoryjameswalsh/3052917304/)

Lights Out!

So I sit here in the dark, typing by the blue glow of the computer screen. I know that kids go through stages and that parents just need to be patient while the stage is in full swing. BUT, for Pete's sake, and the rest of us too, turn on the lights and leave them alone!

This is not just one child who leaves us in the shadows, but two of them. Benjamin and his twin brother six years removed love turning off the lights to leave us all flailing in the darkness to get our bearings. Usually they wait until your hands are full of heavy or awkward objects or squirming children. I think that there must be bonus points for getting people to yell immediately after the switch is flipped because they are in mortal peril.

Screaming is definitely a perk to the whole operation. I know that turning off the lights is to get a reaction and it sure works. It makes me crazy (not that I need any help)!! This behavior is used in all settings including school, church and public places of all kinds that dare display a light switch.

Too bad there isn't some kind of Babies R' Us mini-shocker that can be placed on the switch to deliver a little spark of discomfort discouraging such behavior. That is probably a good thing because with my luck my boys would figure a way around the shocker, and turn off the light while I am holding a wiggly one-year-old and in my haste to turn the light back on, I would shock myself. Yeah, that's how my life is sometimes. Okay, all of the time.

Turn on the light! As soon as I can see you, you are in big trouble, mister!

Bough to Me

If you are ever feeling stressed out...cut your tension with...pruners. Oh yes! There are few things better for lifting your spirits than hacking away at something with a sharp object.

Work woes have you worried? Whack a tree branch.

Relationship confusing? Talk to a limb while shaping it to your desires.

You are in charge of the finished product, so sculpt, trim, and perfect. It won't criticize, rebel or strike back. Relax as you contour, control and carefully change the chaotic branches of your treetops to prepare for spring blooms that brighten even the dimmest day. This rain and snow that dampen our wintered spirits will evaporate soon enough into vivid skies, cottony clouds and bursting buds. Cut away the old growth and prepare for the rebirth of gardens, daffodils and Easter chicks.


After pruning my Wysteria, Mayten tree (Related to Weeping Willow) and our Weeping Cherry tree, I took branches and shaped them into various shapes. What better Valentine gift to give to the gardeners in my life than homemade wreaths? I also had fewer cuttings to take to the burn pile. Smart thinking. Now, Bough to me, I heart you.

Dam it!

I feel the need to vent about this. I am so tired of cleaning up wet bedding that I could scream! You know that mythical hollow leg that teenagers fill up with all of the extra food that they eat? Well my son fills it up with urine so that each night he can release his torrential downpour of liquid on his bed. We frequently take him 1 and 2 times a night to the bathroom and still have the same results 3-4 times a week. My laundry room stinks and I am having a hard time keeping up with the sheer quantity of fabric that needs to be washed. We are going to take him in to make sure that he isn't releasing sugar into his urine, which is a sign of diabetes. If he had a "condition" I would be more compassionate towards him, instead of disgusted and frustrated (disgustrated?).

I wonder if we could get a prescription for a medical clothespin to help shut off the valve at night? I guess that we could always go back to sleep diapers, but those don't usually hold up to the current either. One day at a time, I know. But sometimes I wish that life were easy and I could just snap my fingers and have my problems go away. I could just say to him "Stop, dam it." And he would use a dam and stop the flow. Sigh. A girl can dream. At least I know that we won't have any problems getting a urine sample for the lab work.



Picture found at http://www.flickr.com/photos/richbert/3947726839/

Job Posting - Mother

Wanted: Micro-manager who thrives on detail-oriented instructing of all team members, position often requires cleaning of biohazard and human waste products, meal preparation, laundry, accounting, payroll, requisition of supplies, conflict resolution, ground maintenance, correspondence and countless other skills discussed at interview. Living on-site required. Ability to yell not required but very effective. Full-time, five kids a week. Salary: to be determined in Eternities, undervalued on Earth.


Picture found at http://www.bettermondays.com/?p=11

Mamarazzi, not Papa!

My Mom is not just a photographer, she has an addicton! She used to set up the tripod at our birthdays. We had to limit her to one roll of film per event. She was offended for a while, but reluctantly complied. She says that she loves to tell a story with her photos and does a great job. God bless those people who made digital cameras (they aren't nearly the same quality...yet, but they are getting there).

Periodically Mom would find a stash of 15-20 rolls of undeveloped film that she forgot about. Once on a trip to England, she took four rolls of film of the cloud formations out the window. We have never let her live that one down. In England she took 14-16 more rolls of pictures. Whew! It was like being there without any of the jet lag. My record is nine rolls at my sister's wedding, but that's different, isn't it?

Okay, I have a confession to make. I have the disease too, not quite so severe, but little people are so cute. I can't help myself. There is also the thrill of the hunt. My one year old is already trying to grab the camera out of my hand and is seen here covering the lens. But I have this need to take that perfect shot. I have scrapbooks that I dream about assembling (maybe when they all go to school) and the wedding slide shows to think about (blackmail photos here I come!). What photos that I do take that are horrible go in the digital dumpster. No harm, no foul. It is a no lose situation and a great hobby.

I love doing little videos too. My life is really interesting in four to ten minute segments and then it becomes all hard work and tedium again. True story. Well, I have to go, my kids are doing every cute thing that they can imagine while I'm occupied on the computer.

I wonder where I put that tripod?

Squash Your Guilt

My Grandpa used to joke about having all of the neighbors close their curtains and not answer the door when he was trying to give away some of the excess zuchini from his garden. It is true that squash tends to grow in large quantities, which isn't the the real problem. The problem is that people don't eat very healthy anymore and when they get handed a croookneck or a scalloped squash, they are clueless as to its vast usefulness. Well let me enlighten the non-believers out there. For my vegetable sermon, I will use Butternut Squash as my poster child.

Here it is January, and I just cooked up my last specimen from my early October harvest. That's three months in the pantry!

At my convenience, I cut a squash in half, take out the seeds and place it face down in a cake pan with about an inch of water. I cook it on a 350 degree oven about 40 minutes or until its done. When it cools, I peel off the skin or put it in the fridge for when I have more time, or put it in the food processor. I put two cups of puree in a quart size zippy bag using an awesome measuring cup from Pampered Chef that I splurged on. (They also have an awesome rubber spatula that can be used up to 550 degrees making it perfect for canning jam), and freeze it. That size package is 16 ounces, the perfect size for substituting for canned pumpkin in any recipe. A great source for recipes is http://www.recipezaar.com/. Just look up "Squash" and be prepared to be amazed. Or try the site for Libby Pumpkin at http://www.verybestbaking.com/recipes. I personally love Butternut soup and pie. I also made sweet bread with three kinds of squash that was yummy. We also sneak squash in with our autistic and three year old sons food for added nutrition. My son Ben worships potatoes and all of their bi-products, so we try to mash something else in like cauliflour, carrots, acorn sqaush, etc.

My point is this: grow it, package it pureed and squash your guilt about giving your nutritious produce to friends and neighbors. Like a good neighbor, giving squash shows you care.

SunBEAN and Amen!

This is J.B. He is conquerer of the dryer.

One of the saving graces of little children is that to outweigh all of the naughty and obnoxious things that they do, they also do really cute things. My three year old is a troublemaking poster child. He gets into mischief at his every convenience and his favorite word right now is "No." He also runs around saying "I am not a newb." That is his big brother CeDricK and his uncle Kurt's favorite phrase. It means a New Bee, or beginner, Rookie, Know-nothing. They got it from Runescape, a computer game that sucks away the extra hours of both those two boys and my husband. I hate the game just for existing, but that is a whole different blog.

So J.B. is now a Sunbeam at church which is our cute phrase for children who turn four anytime this year, but my child thinks that he is a SunBEAN. The most common way that we end a prayer is to say "in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen." On Sunday when J.B. heard the speaker say that we have a Savior and his name is Jesus Christ," My son looks up from where he is laying on the ground playing quietly (yes, miracles do happen!) and says "Amen!" We all start giggling of course. I am no good at not laughing at the unexpected.

I laughed when he did something similar at home while we were watching General Conference. The people asked to say a prayer often take a really long time. J.B. was done listening well before the prayer ended, so he took matters into his own hands and said "Amen" and walked away. I like his style. If that method worked, I would use it on Fast Sundays, because they are usually not fast, but SLOOOOOOOOW!

He also calls our van a Wan. Maybe because we often go wah, wah, wah all the way home. I already did a posting about his calling a knife, a Wife. On days when I get irritated at him for playing in the flour cannister, smearing Noxzema cream or petroleum jelly all down my stairs or giving me a handful of brown organic diaper matter, the little cute things that he does are indeed what save his hide.

Candy Janes and Cinnamon Schticks

My torrential three year old asked me for a candy Jane the other day. Not being the tightest wrapped candy in the store, it took me a few seconds to translate toddler-speak to his request of "May I have a candy cane?" Of course I thought his request was so cute that I gave him a huge crook shaped candy stick with a silly smirk on my face as I admired his clever cuteness.

When she was little, my baby sister used to call Egg Nog "Christmas Milk," which it technically is. We have called it that ever since. I love Egg nog cookies and using it in french toast instead of boring, old, everyday milk. She also used to call the shower a "rain room." She is still an imaginative young lady who recently turned twenty-one. Where do the years go?

Before I know it, my children will all be too old for Santa and only want giftcards for Christmas. I will enjoy their innocence while I can. BUT As much as I cherish this time in my life, I also can't wait for the sight of that glorious big yellow school bus that comes on Monday. God bless those people! They are what keeps me going somedays as I count down the hours until I have a little more quiet and fewer demands on my time. It has been a very full Christmas break. We had a good holiday filled with great food, not too much family and a lot of laughs, or "Schticks" as the great comedy skits are called. You should witness my family playing the game Apples to Apples. We are crazy, in a good way!