Mommy Bloopers

Duchess of Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 20:30:00 +0000

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Where's the Bucket?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 17:38:00 +0000

ME: Levi here is you a bucket baby, if you need to throw up try to do it in here.
Levi: Why mommy?
Me: Because it is gross to get throw up on stuff like the couch or the carpet.

A couple hours later Levi is coughing almost non stop and starts gagging

Me: Levi lean over your bucket baby...

Levi runs to kitchen and pukes on the wood floor. Then he smiles.

Levi: See mommy, not on the carpet or the couch.

Unexpected things...

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Levi in a panicked voice : Mommy!
Me from the other room: What is it Levi?
Levi: Mommy come here! Now!
Me: I'm coming baby...what is it?
Levi: Mommy you have to come see my Woody!!
Me: Your what?!
Levi: My Woody!
I get into the living room and this is what I see

Levi's Woody had been missing for a couple weeks now and he wanted me to know he had found him under daddy's chair.

Brown Eyed Girl

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 18:07:00 +0000

My birthday was last month and my darling husband was very good to me. One of my gifts I received from Kyle was a Yorkie puppy, Miss Lucy Lou. She is irresistible, and unbelievably cute. I adore her. I call her the little brunette, brown eyed baby girl I never had. Because contrary to what your high school biology teacher told you brown eyes are not dominant. True? Yes. I have four kiddos and not one has brown eyes. My girls both have blue eyes and the boys have hazel-green. So don't be mislead. And just this morning my brown eyed baby girl woke me at 6:20 am.

I needed to get the boys up for school anyway, and was I ever surprised to see the them awake already, in the living room watching cartoons. I made them breakfast which they ate without complaint. Then they dressed, brushed their teeth and went out to ride bikes before the bus arrived. But, that is sadly where the June Cleaver morning ends because it all went downhill from here. Kyle was looking over the school calender and noticed that today was fall portrait day. What?! I glance out the window to see Kalvin in his faded t-shirt with a milk mustache and Levi with toothpaste wiped on the sleeve. Damn it--

Quickly I run into the closet and pull two button up shirts off their hangers, and...what's that SMELL? I don't have time to investigate. I plug in the iron and set to creating smooth wrinkle free clothing. Which is hard to come by at my house since I pull laundry out of the dryer and it sits in a pile for who knows how long before it gets put away. Wait that is a lie, it most likely will sit in a pile until someone wants to wear it again because I am horrible about putting laundry away. Now where was I? Yes, the anti-June Cleaver morning.

I am pulling things out of a laundry basket knowing that near the bottom is a nice pair of khaki pants for Levi to wear...there's that wretched SMELL again. What is that?! I glance around and can't spot the culprit. I go about ironing. I yell at the boys to come inside to get changed, when Levi whines, "I'm already dressed. I don't want to start all over again!" I roll my eyes and think 'stop with the dramatics.' He likes his button up shirt though, he says it's "fancy." Lovely, that is one less battle, but the white undershirt has a sleeve that keeps bunching up and he is leaning toward a melt down and I yell, "Just let me button your shirt!" Then he decides he doesn't like the way his socks fit, and his pants are going to make him "hot"-true-, and he doesn't like his new shoes anymore. Good grief....that SMELL! I couldn't take it anymore. I go in search of the smell. I am on my hands and knees sniffing the air.

Crawling seems to lighten the mood as the kiddos start giggling at mommy's fat butt shimmying by them in search of the SMELL. My nose takes me to the closet, and in the corner is a wet circle of brown. "What is that?!" It smells like poop, but it's not poop, is it? One thing not so cute about my Lucy Lou is she likes to eat cat poop. Yes, disgusting, yet it is one of her favorite things. I have to keep a very close eye on her outside to make sure she isn't digging in the flower bed for kitty biscuits. I think that is what is in my closet. Cat poop. But not from the cat, from my dog. One more glance and sniff and it is official. Lucy Lou has puked cat shit! In. My. Closet.

I left it there. I had no choice. I had to get the boys to the bus stop. It is fall portrait day and they had to get on the bus, looking spiffy and well groomed. There can't be a chance that someone might think I forgot about fall portrait day. I watch them get on the bus and Levi immediately starts pulling at his shirt, which I am certain will be untucked before he gets off the bus and Kalvin is running his fingers in his hair trying to get that messy look he likes so much. Atleast they left my care looking dressed the part. Now back to the cat shit vomit in my closet!

When it comes to Condoms

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 16:56:00 +0000

This morning as I cleaned the kitchen floor, I danced around with the mop singing along with Pink as her Funhouse CD blasted through my house. Little Lucy Lou was busily barking at the mop, or it could have been my singing. Whichever it was she was having as good a time as I was. Truly a good time. Music set the tone for this love fest I was having with clean and I was embracing it. Getting immersed in music and lyrics is an escape I have long enjoyed. And in doing so my kiddos have picked up on some racy lyrics from time to time.

Just picture this, Levi riding his bike, then still fitted with training wheels, round and round our cul-de-sac singing his little heart out..."That party last night was awfully crazy I wish we taped. I danced my ass off and had this one girl completely naked..." I don't tend to buy edited music CDs, I like to hear the music with all the profanity and raw emotion the artist intended. Go ahead, start the eye rolling and threaten to not let your kiddos come over and play. If you keep your promise not to send your kiddos to my house I will go right now and fill up my iPod with all kinds of inappropriate music. Pinky swear?

My indulgent attitude toward music coupled with arguably inappropriate for young ears lyrics has lead to some interesting questions. On a quick trip to the market for a gallon of milk Kalvin turns down the radio, which in my car is a no-no. I like my music loud, very loud. The reason being that if the music is loud enough I can sing at the top of my lungs and not even I can hear how bad I sound. Listening to music without singing along is something I have yet to master. So I do often restrain from listening to my iPod at the gym. So when the volume is decreased while I am mid song it had better be important.

This was Kalvin's time to ask a pertinent question. One regarding a burning topic. "Mom what is a condom?" I was flustered, unable to answer for a brief moment. Taken aback by the young mind that was inquiring about sexual things. My mind was turning, rather quickly about how to answer this serious inquisition. He had just heard this lyric "...when it comes to condoms put two on..." So Asher Roth feels the need to provide sex education in his songs, or are they raps? Whichever, I had my 11 year old asking me about condoms, in the car, while we were driving to pick up milk, and I was a little stumped. So I answered as best I knew how, while being honest, but without too much detail. All the while I was cursing his dad for not being the receiver of such questions.

I remember coming home from middle school and turning on the television to find an After School Special was about to come on. Do you remember those shows? The ones that talked about topics that parents may be afraid to discuss with their teens so network television created drama filled mini movies to teach teens about the dangers of sex, drug use, and drinking. Since there are no such mini movies now for my kiddos I choose to use explicit music lyrics as a jumping off point for talks about sexual situations and teen angst. Feel free to judge me, you already are. And remember your pinky swear about sending over your kiddos.

Reading a book about lions

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Thu, 30 Jul 2009 04:13:00 +0000

Me: “Lions are very large, and have long manes around their heads.”

Levi: “What is a mane?”

Me: “The long hair here around his face and ears.”

Levi: “I don’t like his mane. Why did you get me this book?”

Me: “You asked for a book about real lions.”

Levi: “I don’t want a lion book any more, I want a tiger book.”

Me: “Next time we go to the library you can get book about tigers.”

Levi: Closing the book, “I think we should go back tomorrow, and you need to make better choices.”

Saved by the Belle

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 02:13:00 +0000

Levi is bouncing off the walls waiting for kindergarten to start, while Kylie's routine of sleeping until noon is about to abruptly come to a stop and Kalvin's PSP is going to get a little less game time. In two weeks I will be sending not one, not two, but three kiddos off to school. All with new shoes, shiny binders, freshly sharpened pencils and a willingness to learn. The willingness to learn will wear off before the first week ends, as will the whiteness of the new shoes. The pencils will be broken and the binders will be shoved into backpacks filled with papers I will probably never see, but I will still be singing along with the radio at the top of my lungs, smiling until my cheeks hurt as I head home after morning drop offs. Yes, smiling. While other moms may be whimpering in the hallway as they drop off their tender hearted kindergartner for their first big day of school I will be heading out the door in the way of the leprechauns, jumping and clicking my heels like I just found what is in that pot at the end of the rainbow.

Why am I so excited, over the moon, ecstatic about the return of school days?

I have FOUR kiddos. Yes I have four kids, and yes I know how it happens, and yes they all have the same dad. Do you know how many times I have had to make that comment recently? I just need to make that a disclaimer on my blog. I get questions about the paternity of my children from perfect strangers and casual acquaintances more often than necessary. And by more often than necessary I mean EVER. Is it ever appropriate to ask someone you don't know, barely know, or maybe you know them but not intimately--- who their kids father is? But since the topic is obviously up for debate and seems to be burning a hole deep into my inbox lets me set your inquiring minds at ease. Kyle, my husband-- the one my kiddos call daddy, is indeed their father. I am done ranting about monogamy. Ask again and I will deny all of it.

Now back to the original intention of this post which is to compare my new found happiness with the jolliness of leprechauns. I don't think leprechauns are jolly, maybe that is just St. Nick and his elves. But, I am undoubtedly bursting with jolliness at the thought of hearing that school bell ring. Just me and my baby Belle until four o'clock every afternoon. She and I will be visiting Starbucks every morning for a grande white mocha frappuccino and a child's vanilla soy milk, then hitting the stores. My little baby girl loves to swipe daddy's Visa.

Things I noticed this week about my teenage daughter

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 00:46:00 +0000

Going to the movies with a friend is a new favorite activity. I sometimes wonder if she really wants to even see the movie. She loves any excuse to hang out with friends. The thought has crossed my mind that at some point she will realize she is alone, unsupervised and mom is a whole 5 minutes down the road and would be clueless if she were to leave. Of course, I am counting on the fact that she is not as conniving a teen as I was. But on her next trip to the movies you may see me circling the parking lot, or better yet I am going to buy myself a ticket. I need a disguise…

Her cell phone is the most important thing. Ever. She password protected it to keep snoopy people from reading her text messages. I asked her for the code, she reluctantly gave it to me. Now the realization has come that I may be the snoopy people she is trying to keep out. She can text 100 words per minute which is important because she rarely uses it for much else. Very few phone calls actually take place since teens only seem to communicate via text messages.

She has a facebook, myspace and twitter account. How many ways does a teen need to message, text, or view their messages and tweets. How about gawk at each others pictures. And how many pictures can a teenage girl take where she is giving a peace sign or the same fake surprised look in each photo?

The mall is “The Best Place Ever!” Where else can a teen load up on dippin’ dots, corn dogs, giant cookies, slushie cokes, cheesy fries and soft baked pretzels all in one place? She comes home from the mall on a carbohydrate high so intense it is hours before her eyes dilate properly again. I may start randomly testing for sugar levels and carb counts.

I have noticed her noticing teenage boys and by noticing I mean seeing a boy, blushing and then turning away as if she isn’t noticing. As adorable as I am sure some of these overgrown, former hot wheels playing, pimply faced, baggy pants wearing, testosterone hormone driven, teen twits are; they need to stay away from my daughter. Just today at the gas station, 5 fearless Y chromosome carrying Neanderthals were staring at her, with me right beside her. I need to really work on my psycho mom scowl.

She is attending Freshmen Frenzy this week and will be starting high school very soon. I am having mixed feelings as I watch her walk up the school all alone. She doesn’t need me to hold her hand or walk around to meet her teachers. I am noticing, as she has become a teenager she is taking on the responsibility of being her own person. She may not need my hand to hold anymore but I need hers.

Oh, and I have been informed that she does not intend on riding the school bus this year, "Mom, nobody is riding the school bus."

Roller Coaster of a Ride

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 21:27:00 +0000

Rolling over your truck while driving for a day of fun on the lake with a boat in tow results in a roller coaster ride. Expect to see these fun surprises flying your way; capri sun packages, baby wipes, iphones, cups of iced green tea, littlest pet shop elephants, mini-powdered donuts, toy airplanes, WWE wrestling guys.

As a passenger on this fun ride I was leaving a voicemail for someone when the whole event occured....I would share it with you if I knew how to get a copy it on here.

Sleep habits

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 11:17:00 +0000

If it were not for my kiddos I would never get out of bed before noon.
If it were not for my kiddos I would never get in bed before midnight.
Early to bed early to rise is bull shit.

Yes, she is 14

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 03:51:00 +0000

Kylie: Mom?

Me: Yes...

Kylie: Do cats have brains?

Me: Yes...

Kylie: Oh

Child with Autism & Depression

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 01:03:00 +0000

I feel guilty. Kalvin is 11 years old and just recently diagnosed with Autism. Actually he has been diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome, a type of autism that falls under the Autism Spectrum Disorders umbrella. The doctors are not very helpful…”here ya go, we have labeled your child now it’s up to you to know how you deal with it.” I did receive a couple book titles that may help. Seriously?? How can this type of diagnoses not come with some type of support for parents? So here I am scrambling to find help—scouring the internet for sources of information, reaching out on website forums-- hell I even twittered about it, all in the hopes of finding someone with closely guarded secrets they are willing to share with a mom who has no clue. And I have come across a couple sweet parents who would share their stories, but they have toddlers or preschoolers who have Aspergers, not a tween. So they are in far different places with very different problems. Impulsivity of a 3 year old is not equivalent to the impulsivity of an 11 year old. Poor social skills in a 3 year old aren’t going to get him teased and taunted like that of an 11 year old child who is trying to fit in with his buddies at school, but doesn’t know how. An immature 3 year old is not a worry—he’s only 3, but an immature 11 year old knows he’s immature, he feels the difference between himself and others his own age. His self-esteem his almost non-existent and as his mom I am doing all I can to help boost his confidence. But I am having little effect, I am lost. I feel like he may float away from me and his dad, the only anchors I think he has at the moment. How am I going to get him back? How am I going to help him find his self-worth? How am I going to get through this? Ridiculous, I sound like it’s about me, and it is not--- and “get through this” like it is a hurdle that can be overcome and I know it’s not. I need life skills for him and for our family.

His young little soul is also battling depression. And the doctors have asked me—more than once—if I too am depressed. “No” is my standard response. They say that children with depression are often mirroring the behaviors of a parent. So are they trying to lay blame? I did have a bout of post partum depression after Belle was born, but within three months I was off the anti-depressants and back to myself—as back to “myself” as a mom can be with 4 kiddos, one of which is a preemie, one is a hell on wheels toddler, one is a carrying around all types of confusion in his little mind but no one knows what is wrong, and one kiddo on the verge of teen years with all the drama that entails. Am I depressed now? I may be feeling that way now, with all the guilt, the questioning, the signs I missed. That trite saying about hindsight is kicking me in the ass right now. And today, yes today I am feeling depressed. I am feeling like I am failing, like I should have previously and should be now doing more than I am. Here I go again making this about me. Damn it!

Brattier than most

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 00:20:00 +0000

I adore putting hair bows on Belle almost as much as she adores wearing them. Yes I am aware that a lot of people find them hideous--- there is nothing critical about big hair bows that I haven't already heard. Kyle does not particularly care for them, if they are small it is ok other wise he is likely to say "Does she have to wear that Big Ass Bow?" Why YES she does. I love them, she loves them, hair bows make us happy.

A couple weeks ago I was sitting around with other moms and one said that she had a theory about little girls with bows---"the bigger the bow, the brattier the girl" She may be onto something.

Time well spent

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 01:11:00 +0000

Levi has been missing his grandma and asking to go visit her, so for the next few days he is in Texas with his grandparents. Levi is the most rambunctious of my kiddos. The one I have to keep my eye on constantly to make sure he isn’t throwing the cat down the stairs, creating masterpieces on the wall with a sharpie or prying the buttons off the laptop keyboard. So I thought I was going to get a lot done around the house since he is gone. Today I did sweep and mop the kitchen floor---then I sat on my ass and watched 4 episodes of Gossip Girl. Life is Good.

xoxo Jeni

Litter Box Trained...

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 22:17:00 +0000

My kiddos are enjoying Billy. His frisky kitty antics keep us all laughing. What doesn’t have me laughing is his litter box. Why does it surprise me that such stinky messes can come from something so little. Isn’t that what happened when I had my first kiddo, Kylie? A cute, adorably irresistible baby girl who’s daddy refused to change her diapers cause they made him gag. The litter box in the bathroom makes me feel the same way. But there have been some horrendous smells in this house today.

Levi has been working very hard to master the fine art of buttoning his own pants. He isn’t being all that successful. So today when he needed to use the potty he was fighting to get the button undone and well, had a bit of an accident. It was a mushy mess. He hasn’t had a poop accident in his pants for well over a year, but there I stood in the bathroom smelling the mess in his undies combined with the smell from the litter box and I almost puked. I hadn’t even started to clean him up yet.

I help him out of his gooey filled undies, and quickly threw them into a plastic bag which landed in the garbage. God bless flushable wipes because without them I couldn’t make it through cleaning a 4 year olds bootie. Belle was standing by watching everything going on, and something in her little body says –me too—because Levi got off the toilet and she was pulling down her panties saying she had to poop. She decides this is a good time to get modest and tells me “you go away mommy. I poo poo.” Gladly I retreat from the bathroom, that smells like an outhouse and get Levi some clean clothes.

When I return Belle has tried to wipe her own bootie. There is greenish brown goo all over her fingers and on the toilet seat. She even flushed the potty with those same fingers--smears of poop everywhere. So once again I turned to my box of flushable wipes and let the clean up begin. Belle is proud of her accomplishment “I do it myself mommy.” Levi is running all around the house yelling “I am nakey, I am nakey.” At least he was clean. I just felt like I could not take the fumes anymore and I switched on the bathroom exhaust fan.

Why didn’t I think of the fan earlier?

Since I had been playing in poop I might as well just clean the litter box too. While getting an empty shopping bag for the scoop up clean up Belle starts sifting through the litter herself and dumping it in the floor. After playing tug-o-war with Belle over the scooper I finally win. I start sifting the kitty litter for clumps—Billy is carefully taking notes from the top of the commode—carefully watching my every move, when I realized that the litter is all wet underneath.

Did the cat pee that much in one day? Whatever.

I decided I just need to dump the whole box and put in fresh litter. As I am carrying the box to dump it out Levi asks what I am doing, so I tell him the litter is all wet and needs to be changed. He looks at me with his big eyes and says “is it because I peed in there?”

My son peed in the litter box. Great.

Thighs causing friction?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 23:30:00 +0000

Exercise has never been on the top of my to-do-list. Actually, the idea of exercise has rarely entered my mind at all since I met my P.E. requirements in high school—and that was quite a while ago. A new fitness center opened near me a couple weeks ago. I kept hearing all these great things about it “blah, blah, blah…2 hours per day of childcare…blah blah” What?! Wait did I hear correctly- 2 hours away from my whiny, fit throwing kiddos? Every day? Where do I sign up? As it turns out, you must stay at the fitness center to enjoy the benefit of someone else chasing your kids around. So my new daily routine includes dropping my children off with complete strangers while I reacquaint myself with physical exercise.

This movement is a whole different genre from what my body is accustomed to. Instead of stooping down to clean a poopy booty I am stooping down to do squats and I am finding muscles that I do not know I had.

When I first walked into the cardio room I felt a little intimidated. Everybody else was expertly maneuvering their machines, clearly pros, and here I stood, the rookie, wondering “how in the hell do I even get this treadmill to turn on?” Notice I picked the treadmill because it did not seem as foreign to me as some of the other ~~torture devices~~ machines that were lined up. But this treadmill had more options than my microwave. Is there an instruction manual? After some careful consideration I pushed a few random buttons and got it started. I was speed walking with the best of them and feeling a little proud. Then I caught a glace of myself in the mirror.

First of all, what are the mirrors for? Possibly for the pretty people to watch themselves sweat or a clever way for guys to peek at hot chick a few machines away. The mirrors are definitely not for people like me. All I saw were my black shorts that had crept up between my fat white thighs--because said fat white thighs rub together when I walk. I was embarrassed, mortified! Obviously I need to be here to work off the excessive roundness my body has accumulated after 4 kids but, being here like this—exposed—allowing others to see the blubber I normally keep concealed under clothing was a horrible feeling.

The initial shock of seeing lumpy thighs in clear view of everyone did fade away, but I vow to only stand on machines where I cannot see myself. I must return everyday to work out; it is my only escape from the little creatures that call me mommy and in the end maybe I will be able to stand in view of a mirror and not cringe…maybe?

New Moon book cover

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 04:48:00 +0000

I just could not resist. So here it is for your viewing pleasure the New Moon movie book cover.

Playtime at 5 in the morning

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 12:35:00 +0000

I was already having a hard time sleeping last night, tossing and turning, watching the clock. Then Levi appears beside my bed with his blanket and pillow. I groan and glance at the time 4:26 am. I help him up into my bed and try to snuggle into my pillow for a couple more hours of tossing turning before the alarm goes off. Our kitten, Billy, has better ideas. Bouncing and pouncing all around Levi, running all over my legs. I am thinking how pointless it is try and lay in my bed and rest--- Levi is even getting frustrated at Billy. So I put Billy in the bathroom and shut the door. "Meow, Meeeoooww.......MEEooww!" Levi says "Mommy Billy is sad. Get him out of the bafroom." So up I go with Levi trailing behind me. After the cat is freed from his prison, we head to the living room with our blankies and pillows. Resting in here is not an option either. Billy is everywhere, knocking over picture frames, climbing in flower pots, playing with legos under the coffee table. So Levi decides that now would be a good time to play too. Really? At 5 in the morning? Yes--- I am tired. It is now 8 am, Kyle just left for work, Levi and Belle are screaming at each other because he wants to watch Tom & Jerry and she wants to watch Barney. I go for classic cartoon violence over the sugary sweet freakishly happy dinosaur, but the toddler who screams the loudest will have the deciding vote.

McConaughey to be Daddy again

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 11:28:00 +0000

Matthew McConaughey took to his blog on Father's Day to announce that he and his girlfriend, Camilla Alves, are expecting another kiddo. Congrats!! But lets not forget-- the hotness that is Matthew McConaughey doesn't wear deodorant and he buried the placenta from his first child's birth in an orchard because he thought it would help fertilize the land. Odd? Yes. Still Hot? Definitely.

Furry Friend

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 02:28:00 +0000

My kids have been asking for a kitten for several months now. At one point I was on board with the idea of a fur ball running around, and then I decided that the kiddos getting a kitten simply added to my daily chores. So a firm NO has been seeping from my lips with every beg, plead and sob story about how much a neighbor around the corner needs to get rid of their kittens.

Said neighbor around the corner has 3 female cats that are obviously not spayed and they all had kittens at the same time! Not my problem—let them take that one up with the SPCA or Bob Barker, whichever.

Kalvin comes home from a bike ride with a petite fuzzy grey, meowing kitten with the sweetest little face and my heart melts. “Absolutely we can keep this kitten!” I exclaim. How could I resist such an adorable creature?

Kyle would not approve so I used a ~~cowardly~~ non-confrontational way to deal with that storm. I introduced this new addition to the family via email to Kyle. It was the safest way. I sent the email with a picture so he too could be taken over by the cuteness this little furry creature was empowered with. He was not too pleased. But, if I had asked him “Kyle, Kalvin brought home the cutest kitten and do you think we could keep him?” I would have heard an answer I did not want. So it was easier just to tell him rather than ask.

By the time he made it home from work I had already been to the store to pick up the necessities; litter boxes, food bowls, kitten food, toys and a jingly collar. So there was no going back.

Billy is quite the sweetheart, and has quickly won Kyle over. So much so that he doesn’t even complain about the Billy sleeping in our bed. I was even shocked by that one. There are times I have to put him on the floor at night because he will wake up and decide that my foot would make a great wrestling buddy, that my hair is a toy or that my eyelashes taste good enough to lick--- yes, he has licked my eyelashes.

Let's eat

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 20:08:00 +0000

Eating off my floors is not recommended. They are dirty, covered in Bevo’s dog hair and sticky from unknown substances. The kids drop everything on the floor. So much so, that I am beginning to wonder if Belle and Levi actually get anything into their mouths. If Levi was as slender as Belle I would be more concerned. There are crumbs, and bits of food, sticky drips from popsicles, dried messes that are unidentifiable-- often covered in dog hair. Luckily the shedding of the Bevo’s winter coat is almost complete. But I still let the kiddos eat stuff that has fallen on the floor….that whole 5 second rule is about a minute long in this house. I will look the food over for obvious debris to be removed and then return the fallen edible goodies into the hand of a kiddo willing to consume it. This does not work well with the bigger kiddos but the little ones have not complained yet. I have trained them so well.

She Said What?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 15:33:00 +0000

My boys are 4 and 11 and they seem to be very concerned lately about hurting their “nuts”. If they are playing ball and it comes anywhere near they’re groin area they grab themselves and proclaim “My NUTS!” I try to curb this talk, but I am clearly unsuccessful. Belle is 2 and she is in a Monkey See Monkey Do routine lately, so my petite, curly blonde baby hits her knee on a toy and she quickly grabs between her legs and shouts “ OH MY NUTS!”

Supermommy Takes a Shower

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 03:47:00 +0000

Feeling hopeful for a peaceful shower I turn the water on super hot, close the door and step in. Ahhh, relaxing---that is until the door abruptly swings open with a ‘bang’ and the scream of a 2 year old is ear piercing. I think to myself “what now?!” I cannot understand a word coming from this screeching little child, but she is obviously upset. I peek out at her and she doesn’t appear hurt. So I go about my shower trying—unsuccessfully—to tune her out. Miraculously she stops squealing. Quiet----

Less than 2 minutes later here comes an irritatingly loud 4 year old. I am through with the relaxing ideology of a shower and I would just like to shave my arm pits and legs---c’mon I am not asking for much here. I am sure my husband would appreciate it if my legs weren’t feeling like sandpaper for once. The "ignoring badly behaved children technique" that seemed to work with the 2 year old is not applying to the 4 year old.

He is insistently getting louder with every syllable he speaks. I tell him “baby, mommy is in the shower and I am almost done. I will be out there to help you in just a minute.” The 4 year old responds with“(insert extreme whining/crying/fit here).” I plead with him once more “Just a second honey let mommy rinse off.” The actuality of smooth legs may never happen for me—again—ever! The 4 year old is persistently going on and on and on…..That’s it—I reach for my removable shower head and point it over the top of the shower. A light cascade of water falls down and sprays the unsuspecting 4 year old and for a brief moment he is stunned—not a sound…..and then all hell breaks loose. “YOU—GOT—ME--WET!” He runs screaming from the bathroom and just to make sure I know how upset he is he comes back to SLAM the bathroom door shut. Well now, I am back in a quiet shower with privacy—my legs might get smooth after all.

Top 10 ways to create a brat

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 11:51:00 +0000

10. You must buy him a toy when you go shopping.

Occasionally candy may be substituted.

9. When he whines give him his way.

Always! This is not optional.

8. Sugar should be a regular part of his diet.

Let him have cookies for breakfast.

7. Be inconsistent in your discipline techniques.

Is there such a thing as consistency?

6. Let him sleep on the couch because he doesn't want to sleep in his bed.

You could always carry his 50lb little body upstairs when he drifts off.

5. Let him watch t.v. until he falls asleep.

Because there is no other way to get him to lie down.

4. Allow him to pour cupfuls of water on the bathroom floor during bath time.

He is learning….something.

3. When he pushes his sister and takes her toy just ignore it.

They will work it out, or she will find something else to play with.

2. When his pleading for more oreo cookies makes you cringe—give him more oreo cookies!

See #9

1. When you start whining, crying, screaming and kicking

to get him to stop whining, crying, screaming and kicking-- you are creating a brat.

Text whining

noreply@blogger.com (Jeni) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 21:06:00 +0000

I know that I am too submersed in technology, especially when my 13 year old has learned how to whine in a text message. Let me set the scene for you: Kylie stayed the night with a friend, and she has decided that today is a good day to go to the mall. She text me:

Kylie::::::Mom will you take me and (insert friend here) to the Wolfchase Mall today?

Mom::::::No not today sweetie :)

Kylie:::::Please mom?

Mom::::::Not today, how about tomorrow

Kylie:::::But mom I really want to do something today and you always say tomorrow and then I never get to go

Mom doesn’t answer this text---I see where this is headed

down a fast slope with me caving at the end

Kylie:::::MOOooooooOOOOoooooOOOOooommmm???

Ha! Do you hear the whine in her ~~voice~~ text?

But I held strong, she didn’t go, My husband will be so shocked.