Lesson I have learned today

Never, ever, scrape a popcorn ceiling in a v-neck t-shirt, unless, of course, you want popcorn b**bs.

Calvin and Hobbes

Today we cleaned out the basement. Our dear babysitter has asked to use our house for her graduation party. This means the Brownhead household gets to spring clean! Yeah! It also gives our Daddy a deadline to get a few projects finished. Double Yeah! We decided to give the basement a much needed clean out, a coat of paint, carpet and move the TV downstairs. So, this week the boys are learning to dejunk, spackle, paint, change electrical switches and lay carpet. All are important skills for boys in my opinion.

Today was dejunking. As we were working I would tell the boys what we had to accomplish and then we could have a break. #1 asked me, "Mama? After this can I get out the Calvin and Hobbes books?"

The Calvin and Hobbes books had been put under lock and key. After the flooding we had where they reeacted Calvin's tidal wave DH confiscated all the books and put them away. Just think water everywhere by an 8 year old swooshing back and forth up, and down attempting to get the wave of water over the edge of the tub.

I said, "Sure, you can read them." He really had worked hard enough to deserve a comic book break.

After his Calvin and Hobbes break, #1 says to me, "Boy, mom! now that I can read Calvin and Hobbes are even funner!!"

Ummm, yah. Reading is a good thing.

HOLEY MOLEY!

My #1 child loves videos. The rule for the summer here is read first the same amount of time you are going to watch a video. I can't complain too much because the kid got up at 6:45 to read.

He picked a book yesterday. It was a Pokemon book (I guess I need to go on a twaddle hunt again). After he finished I handed him a book. We normally alternate who picks what kind of book he is reading. He picked Pokemon so I picked "Storytime with the Millers."

He just handed it back to me (he finished it) and said, "Good book. I think I will read that again sometime."

Pick me up off the floor please.

It might be working. He might be learning to like to read. It might be working.

Overheard

as #1,2,and 3 are watching "Star Wars II: Attack of the Clones."

The part where Padme and Anakin are on Naboo frolicking is on. This is what I hear from #2: You were sent for security! NOT lovemaking.

How could anyone dare mix military and love? :)

The Classics

Cindy and I were at the gym last week. We were yacking and having a great time, relaxing, enjoying the hot tub and adult convesation. As we were talking she reminded me that there are a few Brownhead Classics that I need to post. These are events for which I will never be forgotten among the homeschool community here. There is one in particular she said I should put on the blog: Chocolate Pudding. So, as I have time I will post The Classics per Cindy's request.

The Classics: Chocolate Pudding

I should relay a little about my personality before the story begins. I do not consider myself to be part of the Fun Mom Club. I watch other moms do the crafts, the soccer practices, the dance, the rocket club, etc. and I turn a little bit green with envy. (Have I ever mentioned that I am imperfect?) The moms who can whip out a craft in 15 seconds flat not fret about the paint and the effects it will have on the boy consuming it or the mess truly are a wonder to me. A magnificent mother who loves them enough to get the crafts and make fun food. Now that is an aspiration.

I decided on one summer day to join the Fun Mom's Club. Just for one day. Temporary Membership.

It was summer. I had chocolate pudding. My mother-in-law had sent us some popsicle molds. It was looking like it could be a scorcher. I figured, "Hey! Let's make fudgicles."

My first mistake was I said that out loud. The boys heard me. "Yah! Let's make fudgicles Mom! Those will taste yummy!" Think Bill Cosby-the chocolate cake skit.

Too late to back out now.

I get out the molds, the chocolate pudding mix, the whisk, the bowl, the rubber spatula. We start making the chocolate pudding. (This alone should qualify me for sainthood-cooking with three kids?) I, on purpose, made it a little thin so it would fill the molds completely. #3 was just 3 when we were doing this. He wants to make his own fudgicle. So, #1 and #2 had poured the pudding into the molds. #3 wants to put in the sticks.

Okay. We can do this. #3 and I are in the kitchen putting in the sticks-HE has to put them all in.

#1 and 2 ask if they can eat the rest of the pudding that is in the bottom of the bowl. Sure! Why not? I am a Fun Mom!

#3 and I are still working in the kitchen.

#1 asks if they can use straws to suck out the pudding from the bottom of the bowl. Sure! Why not? I am a Fun Mom! #3 leaves the kitchen. I am finishing up the fudgicles and put them in the freezer.

I hear sounds of yummy slurping. Then I start to hear giggling. Sugar will do that to boys right? Then----I hear splatting and spitting.

I turn to the family room where my sons are. Imagine the slow motion camera. I watch my sons suck up chocolate pudding, then spit it at each other and the entire family room. I am flabbergasted. I am speechless. They do it again. There is chocolate pudding SPIT all over my family room. The boys are laughing.

Vesuvius erupts.

I hear my voice (cause it was sort of an out of body experience) screaming, "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT! IF YOU ARE GOING TO ACT LIKE ANIMALS THEN YOU CAN LIVE OUTSIDE!!!"

I open the sliding glass door, kick them out, tell them they are not allowed back into the house until their father comes home and lock the door. This is about 1:30 or 2:00 and he doesn't arrive until 6:00 or 6:15.

I start cleaning. I am still way too angry. I call my mother. I remember specifically asking her how long they can live outside without CPS getting involved. Afterall, a tent roof is still a roof. I would still feed them. I would put their food in a bowl and let them eat like animals. I could slop them like pigs.

About 15 minutes after they are banished, a thunder cloud rolls across the sky. The big boys pound on the glass door, "Mooommm, it is starting to rain."

I hand them an umbrella and re-lock the door.

#3 comes to the door. "Mama! #1 and #2 awa not shawing da umbwella. I getting wet."

I close the door and relock it. I go to the kitchen. I get out my box of garbage bags. I cut holes in the bottom and two holes in the side. I put the garbage bag over his head, pop his head through and tell him to put his arms in the two side holes. Instant poncho. I was happy I didn't asphyxiate him before his head came out the top. I toss two more bags out for the other two children. I close the door and relock it.

It starts to pour. The three of them sat on the swinging bench under the umbrella. Then #1 ventures out into the rain. He knocks on the door, "Mama! Can I use the hose?"

Why not? As long as I don't have to deal with you.

The kids had a great day in the rain. They made rivers. They puddle jumped. They were muddy. They had more fun outside than they would have come close to having inside.

Banishment backfired.

Such consequences! Having a food fight then getting to play in the mud for the rest of the day.



Now, every now and then, in conversation with another mom who knows the story, I hear, "Yah, well, at least I didn't put my kids in garbage bags."

True. True.

But you didn't have chocolate pudding all over your family room either.

Me? Fun Mom's Club? Nope.

Quiet around here

I am reworking the chore chart and trying to get the house and yard cleaned up. I am still fighting whatever infection my throat has and attempting to rest. Yes, rest with 2 toddlers that are in destroy mode. It is incredibly simple to write-incredibly hard to accomplish.

Another Grand Dinner Conversation

Grammie and Poppy joined us for Easter Dinner. Grammie sits on the bench sandwiched in between boys-#3 is always on an elbow.

#3 talking to Grammie: I am fuww. If I go to the bathwoom and poop I will have more woom for food.
Grammie: We don't talk about those things at the dinner table.
#3 continues: Weww, I would get more woom if I went to the bathwoom.
Grammie: We DON'T talk about these things at the dinner table!

This is from the kid that said to me,"Mama! Make suwa the pwaywand has a bathwoom. I'm stuffed!" (Mama! Make sure the playland has a bathroom. I'm stuffed!)

Dinner had poop talk. Breakfast had testicle talk (balls). Ah, the glamour of it all.....

Have I ever mentioned how truly grateful I am to be alive at this time?

I truly am. I think of our ancestors and how they lived. I am not one of those longing to get back to the land kind of gals. I am so thankful for antibiotics for my daughter. I took her to the pediatrician last week. One eardrum was bulging and the other was infected. Her last little bottom front tooth came through this week also. She is back to her happy little self--not the little-snot-nosed-raw-butt-won't-eat-or-drink unhappy little person she was last week. She is walking around smiling and scrunching up her nose (which is incredibly hard considering how little her nose actually is). She is just so happy.

sigh

She learned how to pucker for kisses this week too.

sigh

No school today

We are taking the day off for a Narnia viewing. We were going to have a family movie party but some dear friends of ours called and put out the "Help!!" signal. DH and #1&2 went to go help. So, after their bookwork is done it is a Narnia day.

It's okay. Service has its rewards that aren't all heavenly. :)

Ode to My Husband

Oh, my dear one, the man of my dreams,
This man who thinks so clear.
The one who knows I do not hold laundry dear.
My words of appreciation this post will teem.

Oh, dear one, I profusely give thank thee.
This morning because of the saved time,
The laundry did not consume I have a moment to rhyme.
I am thankful your thoughts were to set me free.

I expressed the need for an additional shower.
You thought of the bathroom situation.
You thought of the family expansion.
You saw the laundry tower.

Oh, one, two washers, one, two dryers!
You knew that two pair of machines our family required.
Now I know you were seriously inspired.
Without them, the situation would be quite dire.

Thank you, dear one, for making my day,
Already filled with the buzz of school
And the clamour of boys who love to be the fool,
Much, much easier with more time to play!


By the way---I know this is a terrible poem. I am not sure my DH wants this post up. He has red ears. snicker

And before two washers and dryers were installed-the laundry was in towers in the laundry room. Laundry is not a half day affair-not a 3 day event.

Brain damaged, brain damaged, brain damaged

This is what I keep telling myself. My sons are brain damaged. My sons are brain damaged. You can't say that--they are brain damaged. No, you can't whack them upside the head--they are brain damaged.

The goofies will pass?? They will right??? Brain damage is the ONLY explanation for their behavior.

God please help me....

brain damaged, brain damaged, they are brain damaged...

Time to plant the raspberry canes

It is a quiet day around here today. I am getting caught up on housework (HA!-if I do it when the babies are asleep it might last 10 minutes), teaching #1 multiple digit multiplication and putting in the raspberry canes. Heavy on my mind is changing around the family schedule-going to the gym in the morning and then doing school and a new chore chart. Since #3 is now 6 he gets new jobs. Yeah!

UPDATE------didn't feel like planting the raspberry canes while it was SNOWING. grrr