Junk in the Trunk

"I have a little butt now. Someday, when I get old, I'll have a big butt, like you!"

Nothing like the daily affirmations from your children. I'm not sure what was worse...hearing that statement from my three-year-old...or the response my 13-year-old son gave:

"Ha ha! Hey Mom, she looks up to your big butt! Get it...looks up...because she's short..." pausing, as he notices my lack of humor, "I mean...not that you have a big butt...I mean...actually, I think you have a small butt...I mean...not that I actually look at your butt...."

His father tells him he should probably stop there.

I suppose, after nine months, I can no longer use the excuse of giving birth to twins. I would rather not have a butt that is big enough to be noticed by a three or a thirteen year old.

I've never really thought of myself as having junk in the trunk. Junk in the cargo section, maybe...

Samson and Delilah

Samson, my cat, is severly deprived. Weighing in at just over 15lbs, he cries at the slightest sign that the food is getting low in his bowl. He needs attention...constantly. Which, apparently, just as we are starving him, we must not be giving him the affection he needs...because he is beginning to demand it from the babies. He will gracefully turn and fall backward into their laps, his stomach spreading onto the floor. My delighted boys will then proceed to yank his tail, and grab his ears...and I will occasionally find fists full of fur. Does the cat move? No. I suppose having five kids makes you neglect your pets...I cannot fathom any other reason the cat feels the need to torture himself.

Come to think of it...he did the same thing with Irelynn when she was a baby. I would have to say that in over fifty-percent of the photos I have of her...Samson is also in the photo. No wonder I have problems explaining to her that he is "everybody's" cat...not just her cat. He was a staple in her first years....as well as the song, "Hey there, Delilah," by the Plain White T's. I have that entire song memorized due to the fact that we had it on repeat on my computer so that my child could sway and sing along. Luckily she has moved past "Delilah," and has new favorites, including, but not limited to, "Pocketful of Sunshine," the theme song to "iCarly," and just about anything from the Jonas Brothers. But everytime I hear "Hey there, Delilah," on the radio, I can't help but think of Irelynn.

As the pictures begin to accumulate of the twins...I will have to see if Samson is still a background fixture. I wonder if they will have favorite songs as toddlerss that will drive me insane?

I have a funny feeling that when my kids are grown and have moved out, I will be sitting alone...petting Samson....with "Hey there, Delilah" playing on repeat in the background.

The Joys of Having a Toddler

I think that the best way to experience a toddler is with an open mind, a good sense of humor, and a high tolerance for spontaneity. If you can maintain these qualities....it can be quite...entertaining at times.

Like the time you pick up your 8-month-old to discover he has become the canvas for her latest masterpiece. You could get angry, stressed out, and reiterate the rules of proper marker use for the 50th time...or, you could keep the baby's outfit in hopes to sell it on e-bay at a later date as your future famous artist's first creative work of art and make a killing off of it.

Or as the family sits down for dinner, and your toddler refuses to take off her brightly colored Backyardigans bike helmet. You could struggle with a pointless argument that ends up in tears...or, you could use it as a teaching point for the older children by proving that fighting at the table is, indeed, a dangerous road to tred upon, and without proper precaution, those over-cooked rolls could become a useful disciplinary device when launched by an adept parent.

Or when you walk in the living room to discover that she has used every last baby wipe to help you "clean" everything from the entertainment center to the windows. You could stress out and lecture her on the amount of waste she has created, not to mention the streaks on your windows...or you could thank her for relieving you of a chore and bask in the smell of clean baby and newly found privacy created by blurring the view from the windows (just make sure you have extra wipes stored away for such occasions...one of the reasons we buy wipes in bulk.)

The key is to view things in a positive light. It will save you a few gray hairs and new lines on your face...not to mention, hey, free entertainment. Remember...it only lasts a few years. If you can endure Dora yelling in your home, food going to waste (good for compost!,) and the constant use of the word "NO!," then you will find that this period of time can be quite humorous...and a learning experience for both you and your child. It is imperative, wait....hold on....

If you'll excuse me, I need to contend with a toddler in a bright orange bathing suit who thinks she's going swimming...outside...in 50-degree weather...at 8:30 in the morning.

((sigh))

A New Respect for Single Mothers

Thank goodness for sisters. I do not believe I would have survived last week without them. Someone, probably Bruce, upon arrival home from his business trip to Kentucky, would have found me buried in cloth diapers and beer bottles, the children running amock. Actually...the cloth diaper part was partially true...

It wasn't just the random fussiness due to two teething 8-month-olds. It wasn't the constant bickering between the preteens. It wasn't Owen choking on a graham cracker...or Connor refusing to take naps. It wasn't Owen peeing on me...or Irelynn stripping and climbing into Connor's used bathwater while I was getting him dried off, having dumped the entire contents of a fairly new bottle of Mr. Bubble bubble bath into it. It wasn't even the brilliantly concocted idea of the preteens to hold a jumprope/dance off contest down in the basement resulting in the older girl falling, making me think I was going to have to drive to the ER due to a broken hand. (The hand turned out to be fine once feeling came back...but her arse was so sore she couldn't walk for a few hours.) Although it didn't help...it wasn't even the fact that I was running on nearly no sleep due to the twins' sudden sleep protest, and no adult overnight to help rock them to sleep. No, my friends...it was the fact that because I was alone...I had to be responsible...therefore, I had no beer.

The sheer amount of caffeine consumed over the course of those three days would have been enough to give any normal person severe heart palpitations and have them ricocheting off the walls. It merely kept me awake enough to remember to send the older children to school and prevent me from putting something other than formula in the twins' bottles.

Luckily during the day (and into the evening) I did have help from my sister and sister-in-law. I'm not sure what purpose I feel it served best: to assist me in juggling five children while still preparing meals and doing basic clean-up duties, or to witness, first hand, and account for the sheer insanity that takes place in our household. So to both of my sisters, I thank you whole-heartedly for your help.

My husband is home now and things have settled down. I do think I have him sufficiently scared enough to never want to have to leave me again...unintentional as it was...but he also is fully aware of how much I love and appreciate him (I hope.) I am now actually having time to sit and type on the computer...while enjoying an icy cold brew. Now, if only I could leave the state for a few days...

Lost in Translation

Irelynn took off her jacket, and climbed into her chair. We had arrived home with food from McDonald's, and everyone was gathering around the table. A question was asked about the weather, to which Irelynn responded:

"It's shitty and cold out."

Everyone looked at each other. Knowing how to speak Irelynn-ese, I calmly replied:

"She said, 'it's chilly and cold out.'"

The tweens snickered. Irelynn then gave a report on what Connor was doing at the moment.

"Connor eating his crap!"

We all look at him, chewing on the strap of his high chair.

"Connor's eating his strap?"

Irelynn nodded.

"Yeah...Connor eating his crap."

((sigh))

What are the teachers going to think when she enters preschool? I'm dreading the future calls home.

The Baby Whisperer

I walk out into the living room, to find Irelynn attempting to take Owen's pants off.

"Irelynn...what are you doing?!"

"Owen doesn't want these pants. He wants red pants."

She holds up a pair of red pants to show me.

"Owen wants red pants?"

"Yes, he told me so."

"Owen talks to you?"

"Mmm-hmmm. And Connor, too."

This would have been so much more useful during the first five months when Connor was going through his colicky stage.

The Princess and the Toad

My second cup of coffee was cold, sitting on the table...next to the half-eaten bowl of baby oatmeal. I had dressed Connor in some comfortable pants and a shirt...we were headed for a playdate, and I figured my friend wouldn't care if he wasn't dressed up. Irelynn came out of her room in a dress.

"Irelynn...I picked out some clothes for you. They're on the couch."

"But I wear dress because we're going to see Teresa and Nathan."

"Honey, you're going to be playing...you need to wear play clothes."

She looked down at her dress, thinking for a moment. Then she took it off and went over to the clothes I had laid out.

I went back to the bedroom to grab Owen and bring him out. I set him down on the floor next to Connor, and began to change his diaper. Now, with two baby boys, you'd think I have this process down...but it only took a split second. The diaper came off...and the stream of urine shot up into the air...and down on Connor.

"Mommy...Owen peed on Connor. Whoa...and the blanket...and his shirt...."

"Yes, Irelynn, I know."

I changed the boys into the new outfits that their aunt got them, because unfortunately, we have very little clothing left that fits them. Their 3-6month clothing is too small, and the next size up that we have bags of, waiting...is all 12 months and bigger. Figures. So, both boys were styling in their button down shirts and cargo shorts. We were finally ready to go.

I have never pictured my outspoken toddler as the princess-type. I mean...I'm not the princess-type. But, now that I think about it...she does have a Tinkerbell themed bedroom. She knows the Disney princesses by name. She likes to wear dresses. Oh man...I have one of those girls. But I still don't quite realize it until I watch her play with other kids.

When we get there, her friends run up to greet us at the car...barefoot, in shorts and tee-shirts, with little smudges of dirt on their cheeks. I look down at my toddler...braids in her hair, her play clothes consisting of velour bright green running pants, a pink shirt, and a hooded jacket. I don't think she's ever been outside without shoes on.

They run out back, and begin to play. As the morning wore on, my toddler began losing clothes. First the shoes...then the socks. Later I look out to see her pants around her ankles. The bottom of her pants were soaked...she decided they were no longer necessary. I laughed, wondering what her father would think if he could see our little girl running around outside...in a Pull-Up and tee-shirt...with dirt on her face and in her hair, in search of toads.

I put her in the change of clothes I brought with us when it was time to leave. As we headed out, the rain began to pour down. Uh-oh...she usually freaks out when it rains, trying to run toward shelter.

"Ok...ready Irelynn? Let's go!"

I run out with one baby in hand toward the van. I get him situated, and run around to open the door on the other side. I look back to see my todder spinning in circles with her hands in the air.

"Whoa!! Look Mommy! I'm wet!!!"

She runs to a nearby puddle and begins jumping up and down.

I finally get her into the van, and run to get the other baby. We get settled in the van and finally pull away.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Irelynn?"

"We come back and catch toads tomorrow?"

I smiled. I can live with a princess that likes to catch toads.