Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Creative Discipline

Sometimes I amuse myself.  It doesn't happen often, but there are times when a child does something so ridiculous, you have no choice but to come up with something equally ridiculous to teach them a lesson. 

My oldest son is a good kid.  He is usually a very intelligent young man...sometimes to the point where you have to question yourself.  However, there are times when he makes the four-year-old appear wise.  Tonight was one of those times.

I am in the kitchen.  Bruce is bathing the twins.  Jay is entertaining Irelynn.  Literally.  I hear him getting loud.  I roll my eyes...and follow it up with the usual, "Jay...settle down."  He continues to get loud.  I am imagining him chasing Irelynn around the living room.

"JAY.  Settle down out there!"

I then hear him talking to Irelynn.

"Go get MOM!"

I sigh, and walk out to the living room.  No Jay...or Irelynn.  I hear the sound of a struggle come from the little kids' room. 

"Irelynn...GO GET MOM!"

I walk in to find Jay...trapped under Connor's crib.  The side rail had slipped down to the floor...and was stuck.  Jaylond was trapped underneath the crib.  Irelynn was smirking across the room.

"What happened?!"

"I crawled under here to hide...and the rail fell down."

After a bit of a struggle, I got the side rail up, and he slid out...slightly embarrassed, but otherwise unharmed.

"Jay...settle down...and act your age."

Irelynn chimes in, "he was acting like a baby's age."

Jaylond scowls at her.  "You stay out of this."

I reply, "you know...bad decisions make you blog fodder."

Teenagers beware of the power of a parent with a blog.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

And I thought MY day was bad...

There is mustard on my shirt.  My hair looks crazy from an attempt to distract the little ones by letting them style my hair with a brush, a cooking utensil, and what I later realized was NOT hair detangling spray. 

Connor has figured out the doors in the house...how to open them, how to close them, how to apply enough force to make them echo throughout the house, and how to lock his brother into the sunroom/bedroom/bathroom.  I realized that I need childproof locks on all the cabinets, and that those dishwasher detergent packs make great weapons when hurled at someone's face. 

The phone needs a new home.  It is currently set up where the internet and cable are hooked up in the house...right next to the television.  As I was on the phone with the school bus transportation department, writing down bus route numbers for the older kids, Connor unplugged the phone on me.  He did this repeatedly throughout the day.

The boys have learned that if they stand on a chair in the kitchen, they can reach the dimmer switch for the lamp hanging over the table.  I fully expect to walk in one of these days to find Connor swinging from the chandelier.

I have put up a gate across the laundry room, where the cat food is, because Connor likes to dump the food into the water dish...and then dump it on the cat. 

I discovered, while bringing stuff down to the basement that puddles were gathering on the floor...and a couple of boxes were wet.  I moved them, trying to figure out where the water was coming from, but had to abandon the search as I heard Irelynn scream from upstairs.  I ran up the stairs to find out that the reason for the blood curdling scream was that Owen had the audacity to take a drink from her cup.

Needless to say, by the time Bruce was getting out of work I was ready for a beer.  And silence. 

However, Bruce gets the award for "Worst Day Ever."  I found where the leak was coming from downstairs:  what looks like a drainage pipe had a cap that appeared to not be on all the way...and water was coming out.  Bruce went down to check it out.  The next thing I know, I hear a scream come from the basement.  I run down to find a horrible stench...and Bruce bent over...soaked.

His face was twisted in a look of horror...and he was spitting something out of his mouth.  I look across the floor to find water...and fecal matter...everywhere.  Apparently he twisted the cap, thinking he was going to tighten it...and instead it came off, spewing sewage water all over the floor, and Bruce.  He managed to get it back on, but not before getting covered in, well, shit. 

Today the landlord is sending someone over to take care of it...and then I guess I try to mop the floor down there with some strong cleaner to get rid of the stench that has been wafting up into the rest of the house. 

On a positive note, my day didn't seem quite so bad after seeing my poor husband standing in a pile of poop.  I shall henceforth learn to change my perspective on things...having a "shitty" day has a whole new meaning.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Life in the Fast Lane...and the Slow Lane Following a Moving Truck.

I remember moving quite often as a kid.  I was always the "new kid."  I remember the struggles...the packing...the cleaning...trying to find our cat at the last minute, only to find out that the movers had accidentally sealed him up in a mattress box and were already at the state border with the moving truck.  In all my preteen angst, however, I had never realized what the experience was like for my parents.  I just remember my mother, in her bubbly way, trying desparately to convince us that we were on an adventure...that our new town was going to be so cool...and we would love exploring it.  In reality, we didn't ever really go see the sights and attractions.  But before we moved, we viewed them all in a brochure...the Alamo!  The parks!  Canada! 

Oddly enough, I found myself doing the same thing with my kids.  Showing them the downtown, talking about East Lansing, telling them it will be an adventure (yes, those words really did come out of my mouth.)  I began having flashbacks on moving day as we searched the house for our cat, calling out to him.  Luckily, Samson was not sealed in a box, but hiding in the basement, and came out just as we we were about to take off.  I hugged my mom as I departed for my first moving adventure without her. 

The move itself is a blur...I remember screaming toddlers...children that had to go potty...yowling cats...and a Comcast guy that was four hours late.  I remember dodging toddlers while unloading the truck, my husband smashing his hand while trying to get the refrigerator into the basement, and a panicked preteen who could not find her favorite facewash. 

Thank you to all of the family and friends who helped us get here...you don't know how much you are loved, appreciated, and missed. 

We are finally somewhat settled...amongst the boxes.  The older kids are in school today, the cats are snoozing on the sunroom ledge, Irelynn is coloring at the table, and the boys are having a screaming match in their cribs instead of napping.  I think I just heard Owen say, "seeyosee?"  Naptime is going to be a challenge.  I'm not worried, though...I have five kids.  I can handle anything.