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.