Beedie

My oldest son G, now almost 6 (ah! S-i-x!) has been attached to a special blanket since he was about one year old.  "Beedie", as he lovingly named this blanket, was one that my dear friend Karen's mom Gail had given to me as a baby blanket.  My own mom had spent a great amount of time searching for the "perfect" blanket to give to her first grandbaby.  She found a soft, white blanket with fleece on one side and lined with silk on the other, and gave it to me in hopes that "this" would be the baby's "lovey".

I did try with with that white blanket.  I did.  I would put that in baby G's crib and wrap him in it...
but to no avail.  When G was about a year old, he somehow got a hold of the crocheted blanket made by Gail and that is what became his "Beedie". 

We turned the car around many times for Beedie.  That blanket did get left at a few places, and we had to grasp at a back-up once and found a smaller blanket that was also crocheted that I cleverly named "Baby Beedie".  Baby Beedie did the trick once or twice, especially when the real Beedie started smelling foul and I tried to sneak it into the wash.
When holding his Beedie, G would suck on his tongue, kind of like this:

 (Hospital stay when he was 16 mos old for Bronchialitis.  And yes, that is Beedie.)

Beedie had to be with G from the moment he was awake in the morning, til the moment he went to sleep at night.  Sometimes, when G would be busy and playing, I'd find myself smelling Beedie (is that weird?) because even though it sometimes smelled dirty like it needed a washing, it mostly smelled of my little boy.  It wasn't like he sucked on it or put his boogers on it or anything.  I just liked it's smell.  It calmed me.

Anyhow, about a month ago as I was cleaning garbage out of the back of the van, I noticed Beedie laying on the floor almost pushed under the seat.  I brought it out and I asked G, "How long has your Beedie been in the van?"  G just shrugged, "I don't know". 
"Well, didn't you miss him?  Don't you like sleeping with him anymore?"
I'm not sure I got an answer.

The other night, after tucking G into bed, I pulled his door closed behind me and as I turned to come up the stairs, there was Beedie, laying in a pile in the middle of the downstairs family room. 

Why hadn't G asked for it tonight?  Why hadn't he asked for his Beedie for a really long, long time?

I picked up Beedie, and I smelled it.  I tried not to be sad. 

I opened G's door and his head immediately shot up, as he wasn't expecting me back in so soon.

"What?"  he asked. 

"Here", I said, and I tossed Beedie at him.

I saw him smile and pull his Beedie up to his face.

Good Times & Deep Thoughts

I didn't mean for more than a month to pass by between posts.  Every day something wacky goes on around here, however I just don't get to posting it.  I can't tell you how many times I've fallen asleep before 9 pm while laying on the couch with the ipad on my lap in the past couple of weeks.  Training for a marathon is pooping me out. 

Forget the fact that I have wild children who are up for nearly 11 hours of my day...

I really don't have anything funny to post, although I do feel like I'm laughing my ass off (or crying) at my kids nearly every minute of every day.  This weekend proved the normal Easter sugar-candy high; while trying to get the boys dressed after bath, Landon disappeared and he was evidently climbing on the cupboard and digging into his Easter basket.  He ran out to the living room buck naked and chomping on a chocolate bunny.

While at church today, the Pastor was saying the final blessing and when she ended with "Amen", Bronson yelled as loudly as he could without officially screaming, "All Done!" which caused a little chuckle from the entire congregation.  (Sheepish Grin; it was kinda cute).

On a more heavy note, I have been regularly following 3 Caring Bridge websites from people in my area, in which two are of young boys ages 11 and 12 both battling for their lives while fighting complications from leukemia and it's treatments.  The third is of a man who was badly injured in a motorcycle accident that took the life of his wife; they have 2 young boys at home.  Reading these daily updates has caused me to grip so hard on my reality of having my whole family intact and currently healthy.  I try so hard to remember how things can change in the blink of an eye and try to keep everything into perspective. 

Yes, my days can get long....and I can find myself cleaning up the same mess and the same greasy fingerprints over and over again each day.  I may find myself repeating the same life lessons, saying "No, no" and "What do you say?" (meaning Thank You and Please) over and over.  But do you know how very lucky I am?  I have the best opportunity.  I'm raising little humans.  I'm teaching them more than how to use the potty, and their manners, and how to clean up after themselves.  I have the opportunity to teach them to love Jesus, and be good people. 

This is a wonderful thing, and I am grateful for every day.

No Need to Cry Over Spilled Milk

I really wish I could make stuff like this up.

There is never a dull moment in my household.

This evening, the Mister and I were in the kitchen finishing up dinner preparations when we realized we were out of milk.  (Did you know we just went through FOUR gallons of milk since Wednesday?  Today is Sunday.  And my boys are not yet a combined age of 10??!) We sent our oldest downstairs to our extra fridge to grab a gallon.  He isn't gone 2 minutes when up the stairs he comes flying, "Dad, come quick!  L threw a hockey stick at me and it popped the milk and it's spilling all over!"

Tim being his dramatic self runs at lightening speed down the stairs.  Being more calm in times of major crisis (usual), I grab a bucket and some towels and head downstairs.

Sure enough, Tim is standing with a gallon of milk in the bathroom sink, a huge gouge in the side and milk soaking into the carpet on the floor. 

L is standing there with the deepest belly laugh I have ever heard.  I turn to look at him and notice there is milk running down the walls.  He thinks this is the funniest thing ever.  And you know what?  I cannot even look at him without laughing.  So I turn my head, bite my tongue and carefully scold the kid without even looking at him.  What a brat.

At dinner time, my husband leans to the left and cuts a big one at the table.  Nice.

Two seconds later, my oldest leans to the left and cuts a big one.  At the table.

Laughter explodes and I'm the only one of five people sitting there not laughing.

Do I have any hope?

Is there any hope???

Help?

Feedback?

I know a few of you are reading.  Probably most of my family and friends who didn't give up on my family blog and got the link from there.  But no matter who you are, would you mind letting me know your thoughts on the blog?  No need to comment on here, but shoot me an email.  I'd love to know your thoughts...yet.

I'm curious to know what you think of my posts so far.

Special Thursdays

Since the beginning of the school year, I have been putting the twins in a home daycare on Thursdays in order to 1) spend a little quality time with my oldest, and 2) either run errands or clean house the few hours he is in preschool in the afternoon.  I can't say enough how these days have been worth every penny.  I will also say that I know I am blessed to have this opportunity; please don't think for a second I take these days for granted.  I understand that it is also good for the twins to separate from me and get some good social time with other kiddos.  They absolutely love Amy (Mee-Mee) and all the kids there.

Our usual Thursdays consist of either going to the library to pick out new books and read a few there, going to the community center to either play basketball or swim, going to the dentist or sometimes the Doctor (limited, as you can't really take your 5-year-old son to your annual pap smear...).  And very occasionally, and I mean maybe once every 2 months, I take him to Walmart or Target to get a few things.  I try really hard to do that on my own or at another time, as all he does is complain the entire time we are there...."Are you done yet?"  "Can we go look at the toys, now?" "Why does that ladies butt crack hang out?"  (Just kidding on that last one.)

Last but not least, we go out for breakfast or lunch together.  I love this time.  It is really rare that I go out to eat these past few years.  And when I do get to go out, I'm usually scarfing my own food down in order to be prepared for when one of the twins wants to run around, or throw food, or jump up and down in the booth....you get the picture.

So it's just G and I.  We order our food (I make him tell the waitress what he wants) and then we play Tic Tac Toe on our napkins while we wait.  Sometimes we play "I Spy" but I'm afraid he may even be getting a little too old for that one now.  Most recently we have been sounding out words on the menu or the table advertisements as he has been showing a real interest in learning how to read.

No matter what our mornings entail, I cherish them so much and I can slowly feel them coming to an end.  I know that he technically should have went to Kindergarten this past year, but I have no regrets about waiting an extra year.  These are the very last times that I am ever, ever going to spend a Thursday morning with him alone, other than very special occasions when school is out or I take him out of school for an appointment and we play "hooky". 

I can only hope he has fond memories of these Thursday morning with his mom.  He doesn't remember all of our one-on-one days from his birth to age 3...
I hope he at least remembers our one-on-one time from ages 5-6.

*Side Note:
I wrote this post on February 14 (Valentines Day) and never posted it.  G came home from his Valentines party with a card for his Dad and I.  Here is what it said,

Dear Mom and Dad,
I love it when you take me hunting, Dad.
Mom, I love it when you take me to Walmart.


Love,
G


Gee.  So glad that all of our special lunches (and library, pool, gym) moments are leaving such a mark on his heart.  Screw it.  We're going to spend all morning in Walmart tomorrow. 

Poop

Everywhere I turn, it's all about poop.  Everything right now is "stinky butt", "poopy butt", "stinky diaper", "poopy diaper".  They think it is hilarious.  They think it's the funniest thing ever.  Poop. 
Poop, poop, poop, poop, poop.

Today while I was changing B's diaper, I watched his face and he started grunting hard when I took the diaper off.  I said, "What are you doing?  Are you trying to toot?"
He immediately started to giggle. 
"Fart", he said.  "Farty, farty fart".

I told him, "If you try to toot when you don't have a diaper on, you are going to accidentally poop!"

From across the room, his twin brother goes, "HA!" and starts giggling uncontrollably. 
B then starts to laugh, and continues to sing, "Poopy butt!  Poopy diaper!  Farty, farty fart!".

What could I say?  What could I do?

I laughed.  Uncontrollably.  It was pretty funny.

Holy Hell

I can't come up with a better post title than "Holy Hell".

Case in point: My husband has become obsessed with feeding deer. Not because he's got a soft spot for the cuddly, sweet creatures of God's creation, but because if you plant the foods they like, they will come and eat them and then when it's deer-hunting season, they will come and eat and you'll be in your tree stand and then you can shoot them. Not necessarily inhumane, as it's not like they are coming into our yard and we are naming them and petting them, but...

Anyhow, as stated above, this has become an obsession. Hours and hours, and dollars and dollars have been put into the planning and creating of these "food plots". Hours have been spent on websites and participating in forums talking to "the best of the best" in locating where the deer go...where to plant said food plots, etc. There is a "master" of deer-food-plotting located out of Milwaukee. He has offered to do an all-day training for ore obsessed food plot planners (let's call them the OFPP) and the hubs really wants to go. He then says.... "I've met these other guys from around our area and I was thinking I could offer them to stay at our house on Friday night and we would leave together for Milwaukee to save on hotel costs."

After I find out that he doesn't, in fact, "know" these guys other than from "chatting" online with them while talking about OFPP, I about hit the roof. I mean, seriously. Dear God. Holy Hell. You can assume that I quietly and kindly reminded my life partner (or am I really talking to a 13-year-old girl who just met the love of her life ONLINE?!) that I just didn't think it a good idea to invite STRANGE MEN into our home in which his THREE YOUNG SONS and WIFE will lay sleeping unsuspectingly in a beautiful DEEP SLUMBER and would prefer to NOT be raped and bludgeoned to death by STRANGE MEN obsessed with deer food plots.

Fortunately he responded, "okay, okay. I get it".

Holy Hell.

If You Give a Mom a...

We have several of the "If You Give a Pig a Pancake", "If You Give a Moose a Muffin" books that my kids just love.  Recently on Facebook, I saw that someone had put together a "If You Give a Mom a Cup of Coffee..." story very similar in nature.  I am not trying to copy that by any means, but I truly did crack up at the realization of how "distracted" I can become throughout the course of a few minutes within my day.  Without boring you too much, I actually made a mental note of my morning yesterday and thought I'd give you a little glimpse.

I poured myself a cup of coffee.  Took two sips and set it down on the end table. 
My oldest asked me for a band-aid (for an un-cut, un-bleeding finger that hurt so awful badly.)
The band-aids are located in the laundry room.
So is the laundry.  I noticed that I had a load of wet clothes needing to be moved into the dryer. 
I then noticed I had a load of dry clothes that needed to be moved into a basket.
One of my twins came into the laundry room and I smelled poop.
I went to pick him up, he ran away.
I chased him back into the living room, finally catching him and changing his diaper.
When I walked back into the laundry room, I stepped in something wet.
I notice the cat had vomited.
I pulled out the disinfecting spray and the paper towels and started to clean up the mess.
While I was down there, I noticed that there were some dust bunnies/dryer lint that needed to be wiped up, so I took care of this as well.
The other twin came in to ask "What doing?"  I smelled poop.
I went to pick him up, and he ran away.
I chased him back into the living room, stepping on spilled cheerios and feeling them crunch under my feet.
I finally caught him and went to change his diaper.
My oldest son yells, "You told me you were going to get me a band-aid", and I replied, "Just one second honey, your brother really stinks".
When I finished changing the diaper, I went back into the laundry room.
I realized that I had never turned the dryer on, so I do.
I pick up a band-aid, and start to walk back to the living room to give to my oldest son.
I step on a few more cheerios and also see a sippy cup on its side, leaking milk.
I walk into the kitchen, grab a wet cloth for the spilled milk, and grab the hand vacuum and start vacuuming up cheerios. 
I answer four more "What doing?" questions, help to administer the band-aid, sit back down and pick up a very cold cup of coffee.

If I told you this all took place in 9 minutes, would you believe me?

Queen of Multitasking...(Well, almost)

I like to think of myself as an amazing multi-tasker.  Seriously!  I can be in the kitchen, making dinner, a snack for the kids, serve the snack to the kids, texting a friend, answering a phone call, singing "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" (in rounds, nonetheless) all within the same 5 minutes timeframe.  (Did I mention I could also be filling the dishwasher in between texts?)

However.

I have discovered something that I absolutely cannot do.

I cannot put my socks on while taking a pee.

The other day I was in a hurry.  As I am getting ready to sit down and pull my socks on, I realize I had to pee.  So I went into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet and started to "go".  I then started to pull my sock on.  And guess what happened?!  My pee stopped!  Seriously!  I had to put my foot back down on the floor, CONCENTRATE on peeing again, and then it happened.  When I "consciously" tried to keep peeing and pull my sock on, the pee still stopped.

It totally stumped me.  Here I thought I was the best multi-tasker in the world, but I cannot even put socks on while urinating.

Some things in life are just not fair.

Or....are they?  Would YOU want me to make your dinner while I was peeing on the toilet?  What about just mixing up some cookie dough by hand, while sitting on the pot?

Yep.  Thinking that is is one that I'm going to have to let go. 

Huh.

Hello, there.
Let's pretend we are meeting for the first time, shall we?  Let's see.
I will start by saying that my name is Jill, and I am a 34-year-old stay-at-home-mom of 3 young boys, ages 5, 2, and 2.  Yes, those last two are the same age, and yes, they are twins.  What is that you say?  Oh, yes, of course, I do have my hands full.
How do I do it?  Well, I don't know, I just do it I guess.  I mean, I wasn't really given the choice, and well, I don't know.  I guess I didn't think there was a return option. 
What's that?
Yes, I choose to stay at home full time.  If my husband had a choice, he'd prefer an extra income and a summer cabin to invest in.  No, he doesn't make me stay at home.  Are you kidding?  I'm not fricking Caroline Ingalls.  He doesn't make me do anything.  Hell, he's lucky to have chicken nuggets and french fries on the table 3 or 4 nights of the week, when I'm sick of ordering Dominos.

Oh, yes.  My boys are busy.  All 4 of them.  Let's see, my husband hunts, the boys want to be farmers when they grow up, my oldest loves hockey.  Current favorite words are poop, butt, and fart.  Oh, I know.  I slap those little mouths here and there, but you know, Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz say physical punishment is really no longer p.c., no matter how WE turned out.  Oh...I know.  I'd attach shock collars if it were allowed.  Trust me.  Some days a prison cell seems much more welcome and inviting over the messes I have to clean up around here!  Trust me....

I shower at least once every two days, purchase my kids' birthday cakes from Walmart, (I don't have a steady hand for frosting), and I like to drink a couple of times a week month.  What was that?  Oh, I prefer wine although Bacardi and I have a fairly good relationship.  I don't use him too much and he treats me with respect.  Gives me a headache every once in awhile, but that's what you get when you allow roommates, right?

Yes, you are correct.  I really should get back to doing my household duties.  I do have a load of laundry to fold, and dinner to start (sick of nuggets and pizza, trying something different tonight...Stouffers.  Ever heard of it?) 

Well, I do look forward to talking with you again soon.  I promise not to judge you, if you don't judge me.  I mean, I do realize that chances are you will with chat with your book club ladies tonight about this crazy woman you met today.  The one with all the dirty boys, who looks like hell, and who can't even make her precious husband a decent dinner.  And I'm sure that the next time you are talking with your neighbor about the alcoholic tendencies of the pastor's wife, you will make reference to a woman you just met who "Sure does like her booze at bedtime".  But it's okay.  I understand.  We all need to vent sometimes, right?

And a free blogsite fits into the family budget a whole lot better than a psychiatrist.  Because who are we kidding?  Even the pastor has stated that he may have to start charging an hourly fee in the form of office volunteer help or something...

Okay, then.  You have a nice day now, okay?  Yes, yes, I will take care.  Yep, you've got it, I'll keep these boys in line. Okay, now.  Okay,

buh-bye.