I went to Wal-Mart this morning

I rolled out of bed, brushed my hair into a ponytail, slapped on some moisturizer, threw on a clean t-shirt and a skirt and was through WalMart's doors by 7:45 am. DH was still at home, on a conference call and I wanted to make a quick run to get binkies (where do all those things go?) and new sippy cups that didn't leak.

If I bring all 5 of them to WalMart....well, let's just say in this heat my DH might need to find a good attorney.

Anyways, I was headed to the check out lane. I asked this man in front of me which lane he was going to (cause you know he was really in both lines). He looks at me, his eyes scan me and he says, "Hey! You are cute!"

I said thank you. And started loading my 10 binkies and 8 sippy cups on the conveyer belt.

Maybe he was hungover....

Being the adventurer I am....

I did something completely foreign yesterday.



I went into the pink aisle at the toy store. I brought my daughter with me.



I bought a little cuddly doll for my daughter.



And an outfit. and a bottle.



I walked out of a toy store with not a single lego...it was a very new experience for me.

Thinking

Today I was thinking about "The Classics."

I decided that the squirting pee on someone qualifies. So, I edited that entry title.

Why do I think clean carpet is cool?

I should really just love the carpet I have.

I am thankful it is multicolored with a pattern.

It hides the smashed up banana that just got ground into it. It also hides the gum I just found in it. And the chocolate protein drink powder and the manicotti.

That two year old has to go.

Anyone seen any travelling gypsies around?

Yesterday someone tried to guilt me into

writing in a journal more often. And to write the things I do on a daily basis.

I outloud said, "No! I am not going to write about laundry on a daily basis. My kids don't want to know about laundry."

Another woman responded, "Well, when your kids get old enough, maybe there will be disposable clothes."

I outloud said, "Hey, as long as the bras have good support I am all for it."

I have to stop thinking outloud so much.

Why in the world would my kids want to know about schedules, laundry, meal planning, dishes, all body excrements and how to make a house look not lived in? Why do they want to know about stain-busting? mopping? dusting? I pluck my eyebrows. Do they want to know about that?

I see the benefit of keeping a journal. This blog is part of mine. I am recording for the future the things these BrownHeads did and truthfully how I responded (for better or worse).

If I recorded the things I did daily it would look like this:
Got up
Use the toilet while #3 barges in and talks to me all the while I am saying, "I am PEEING. Leave the bathroom!"
Get a shower while #1 is talking to me through the door and it just sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher
Be grateful the steam from the shower didn't set off the fire alarm and I am running around naked disarming the alarm system
Go to my room and get dressed, #4 comes in and talks to me about how hungee he is
Go back to the bathroom, apply moisturizer and attempt to brush my hair and put it in a pony tail
Go to the kitchen and hear 4 different questions about what is for breakfast
Answer what is for breakfast and hear 4 different responses of what they want for breakfast
Make breakfast
Feed the babies
Tell #3 that is not allowed to use a 1/2 cup of sugar on his oatmeal
Ask if the morning jobs are done
Start school with #3
Answer 40 bajillion different questions about things that are incredibly obvious to me
Set up #4 downstairs with Blue's Clues
Get #5 off the table and out of the school books
Snacks, hey we only ate a half hour ago, everyone must now have snacks
School with #3
Tell #1 and 2 to keep working on their math
Email reading comprehension questions to #1 and #2
Back to school with #3, yes, we do have to do all these books
Read aloud
Change a stinky diaper
Wipe a nose
Wrap up school with #3
Set up #3 on the computer game
Ask everyone if they have done their morning jobs
Look at them and wonder why in the blazes they haven't brushed their hair or teeth
Ask #1 how many days he has been wearing that shirt
Head downstairs to load the two washers, Shout the stains, turn pants right side out, wonder when they will ever truly learn to wipe themselves, empty out of pockets 17 legos and 3 binkies and start the washers.

This is all normally before 9 o'clock. Me and the Army. We can get it done.

This is me stumbling out of bed after the kids are up. If I manage to get up before them then I get my scriptures read and prayers said, some puttering around the house done and precious's thrown out and hidden in the garbage can before someone can rescue them.

Maybe tomorrow I can write about between 10 and 11.

I forgot, I missed the beginning of the journalling lesson

because I was reprimanding #1 for going missing during Sunday School. He and the two boys from class disappeared. One of the Primary leaders came and found me and let me in on the act.

He was in the bathroom. He didn't do it but watched as his friend booby-trapped the soap dispenser and the papertowel dispenser.

I hate having conversations when I have to ask, "are you telling us complete and honest truth?"

His hand was recovering from writing sentences, "I will not touch anyone's underwear while they are wearing them." He and #2 decided to get into a wedgie war. Each were doled out 25 sentences for each wedgie performed. #1 had 25, #2 75.


Dear God, please let their brains start working. Please. Please.

I know that patience thing.

I am working on it.

The M.O.D. and M.O.M

Just as the memory of the pains of childbirth fade there is another kind of forgetfulness we mothers experience--the messes of toddlerhood.

MoD (34 months) and MoM (18 months) struck yesterday with a vengence.

The day started with the Master of Disaster taking a loaf of bread (homeade) from the kitchen and into the family room, shredding it with his bare little hands and spreading it all over the floor and the new furniture.

He moved on to better things after the bread, playdough. For only having one container he did an amazing job of spreading it around the room. Little balls of dark blue playdough were all over the room and somehow under all the furniture.

He emptied the markers and striped his younger sister.

He emptied the scissors and then we caught him.

How long did this take?

He was under older brother supervision and Mama and Daddy were gone total of 7 minutes in the bedroom trying to figure out the priorities for the day. You know, doing those things like getting dressed, getting rid of our fuzzy teeth, brushing our hair, having the discussion, "we have to finish the toolroom downstairs or otherwise the babies are going to make a huge mess if it isn't all behind a door by Monday when you go back to work."

We cleaned up the mess, rearranged the furniture and headed downstairs to finish the toolroom project. The MoD and MoM were with us most of the time. We were finishing the project (you know vacuuming and taking out the trash) when we hear water dripping.

in.the.basement.from.the.upstairs.bathroom.

We bolt up the stairs to find the Master of Disaster and his sidekick, the Mistress of Mess. They were in the upstairs bathroom (did an older brother forget to close 2 gates?). The MoD was perched on the toilet and the MoM was on the stool. Both were saying, "oooooooo!"

The overflow drain didn't work. Water was cascading over the edges of the pedastal sink and across the floor.

They had broken up a bagel, shoved it into the drain and started running the water. The bloated bagel bits were swirling around in the center of the sink. Apparently that wasn't cool enough because they also had to empty a tube of toothpaste into the sink also.

We finish cleaning up the bathroom and the phone rings. It is the next door neighbor calling. She is wondering if we know that the spigot on the side of the house is running full blast? flooding the side yard?

Outside on our deck I have planters (earthboxes). Two of those were emptied and the dirt spread all over the deck.

All this was before noon.

Do you want to hear about the legos? the squished watermelon? the mud wars? digging holes behind the shed?

The Classics: This is what my husband says to me

Today started unusually. I typed the entry on the M.o.D. and the M.o.M. and then went outside to check the garden (drat, still have to do that). As I went out onto the deck I hear #4's name being called from the back fence line. All of my BrownHeads are inside. There are neighborhood boys playing in the thicket of grapevine that is beyond our property line.

It all started a couple of days ago. These boys were playing on the other side of our fence line and calling my boys names. My boys retaliated by squirting them with squirt guns. The other boys retaliated by throwing sticks. They learned the name of #4 and have been calling him to the back fence line to throw sticks at him. At a 2 year old. That is what they were doing this morning. They were calling his name to throw sticks at him. The kids had not been outside yet this morning so there was no reason to continue this little skirmish. Feeling my MamaBear claws come out I go inside, tell DH that I am taking a ride. I take #4 with me.

I get into the small car. It doesn't start. It makes that funny clicking nose. DH tells me to open the hood. As I look at the hood I see the distinctive footprints of #1 on the hood. DH jumps the car, the car starts and I am off. I drive over to the place where the thicket is. (Our yard backs up to our neighbors side yard and the only way to get to it is to hop the fence or go on a major street.) The boys are there. I asked them who was calling the name of my #4. Apparently I am hearing things in my senile middle age and no one said anything.

So, I then asked them if they knew who #4 was? No, they didn't know. I had #4 on my hip. He was sucking a binky and in his footy pajammies. I told the boys, "This is the person you are calling. He is 2. If you hurt him I will be calling your parents and the police. If you throw sticks at him you are being bullies."

I then get the response, "well one of those other boys, he was squirting pee on me. He peed in a squirt gun and he squirted it at me." I told them that was information I had to have and I would deal with it. But do not hurt a baby.

I visit with my neighbors and head home.

I get home and start questioning my sons.
How did it start? They were calling us names
Did you squirt them? Yes
Did you throw sticks? No, they threw sticks at us
The moment had arrived--Did you squirt pee on them? sheepish Yes. And #1 points to #2.

DH and I are floored.

If anyone in the family would have done this it would normally #1. His lapses in judgment are well known in our household.

Stifling the giggle, I ask the all important question. How? Did you pee into that little hole of the squirt gun?

He used a 1 inch syringe that he and his friend were using in a water fight. Apparently, he peed into a bowl from the sandbox, sucked it up from the bowl and squirted it at the boys across the fence.

I had to walk away. I was starting to laugh too hard.

DH and I discuss it. We hand out the punishment and start working on the housework.

#1 was given the privilege of washing the car since his footprints were all over the hood. DH goes out and finds him washing the car with the windows down. #1 says, "But I only got a little bit of water in the car."

He comes in and says, "Some days I think our kids are really smart. Other days...." he says with a huge grin on his face.

yep, squirting pee on the neighborhood kids and washing the car with the windows down-those brilliant boys.