Showing posts with label Children. Aren't they fun?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Children. Aren't they fun?. Show all posts

Monday, January 19, 2009

I'd like to introduce you to...

Sky, the oldest. The mother hen and attitude ridden tweenager. The one who is the most like myself in every way.



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Skylar woke up earlier than everyone else in the house one day this weekend. Knowing that Nai and I would also be waking shortly she sweetly decided to brew a pot of coffee and have it waiting for us.


As quietly as she could she filled the pot with water and poured it into the coffee maker. Then she dug into the cupboard to locate the filters and ground coffee.



Once she figured out how to put the filter in she proceeded to add a few scoops of coffee. Then she added a few more scoops. Not quite sure it would be enough she added just a little bit more coffee until it was almost level with the top of the filter and then started it brewing.



Have you ever tasted coffee made with enough grounds to brew five pots? It most definitely adds a jolt to your morning, that's for sure.



Nai, drank a good portion of it, liberally watered down of course. Being the bad mother that I am I stuck with tea.



Now we have Taylor. The true girly girl and little homemaker of the bunch. She's so anxious to learn everything there is to know. Every five minutes she's asking you why, or how, or what?



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Last week it hit the negative double digits in these parts (not in that picture though, it's from December). Knowing that Tay has a tendency to feel cold I advised her the night before to lay out clothes for the next day that she could layer for warmth. Tay thanked me and went off to put together the perfect, most comfortable outfit to wear to school.



Fast forward to the next morning when I'm chiding Taylor to hurry up and get dressed or she won't have time for breakfast before the bus arrives. She ran hurrying into the kitchen apologetically explaining that she had trouble getting her pants pulled up and buttoned all the way. It was almost impossible to get dressed, she explained.



Not fully awake myself I stopped and gave my daughter a good once over and noticed she was a tad *puffier* than normal. It prompted me to ask her to raise the legs of her jeans so I could see what she had layered underneath.



She complied and I glimpsed more denim underneath.



Highly amused I asked her "Tatie, are you wearing two pairs of jeans?!"



"No Mom" Taylor responded with the utmost look of innocence on her face "I have on three pairs of jeans, why?"



I could barely contain the peals of laughter long enough to recommend she take off two pairs of jeans and swap them with a pair of tights instead. I didn't have the strength to hold the laughter in long enough to say she probably wouldn't really need to wear four shirts all at once either.



This is Jon. The only male child surrounded by a house full of Sisters. Terribly independent and full of bravado he feels the need to act as if he's years older than he is. Except at bedtime when he needs Mom to stay in the room with him until he falls asleep. My little manly man is a just a bit afraid of the dark.



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Jonathan is fully potty trained, which is a good thing seeing as how he's three going on four. The thing is, Mom was the one who did most of the training. She didn't want to try and explain to such a little guy about standing to go wee so she trained him to sit on the potty when he needed to go instead.



This has worked quite well for some time until recently when she noticed he seemed to missing his mark and making a mess. Odd, she couldn't fathom why he would suddenly be having problems with this when he never had before.



A couple of days ago Mom was folding and putting away laundry when Jon rushed past her exclaiming "I gotta go, I GOTTA Go!!!"



Mom laughed to herself and finished folding the last two items in her basket. She gathered everything up to put it away when she decided to glance into the restroom to make sure Jon had made it the toilet alright.



What she saw was her son standing in front of the toilet with his pants down, hands on his hips, smiling at the ceiling while going potty.



Of course in this pose he was completely missing the inside of the bowl he should have been aiming for.



This is where Mom messed up. In shock she gasped out "Jonathan!!!"



He of course turned towards her in surprise. Hands still on his hips. Still going wee.



It wasn't at all amusing to Mom as she cleaned the floor afterwards. Dad seemed to find it hilarious though.



Last of all is little Anna-Marie. The baby. The snuggler. The all around cutie pie who has all five members of the family wrapped around her little finger.



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She's a doll. A joy to be around. There's only one thing that could be considered a character flaw, and even then it's such an adorable little flaw that it's more amusing than annoying.



The little imp is a shoe thief. Leave your shoes out where she can get to them and she will claim them for her own.



She doesn't care how big or how small they are. She's put both feet into one of her Daddy's boots and then tried to hop across the floor in it.



She received a doll for Christmas that she pleaded to have opened right away before she opened any other presents. The second the doll was out of the box and handed to her she pulled it's shoes off and threw it on the ground. She then proceeded to put one doll shoe on the end of each of her toes and smile triumphantly around the room at everyone, completely enamored with her skill. In the picture above is she wearing her shoes? Of course not, she has on Taylor's boots and would not give them back until Tay gave her Sky's house slippers in exchange.



I love them all so much I nearly burst with the feeling I have for them. For all the mischief they cause there are the little things like this that happen numerous times each day. How mad can you get at them, when you're so busy laughing at the silliness of it all?

Monday, September 22, 2008

Why would she do that?

Today is one of those days. You know the type, you wake up and actually feel motivated to do *stuff* . Not just any stuff, but stupid stuff. Stuff that doesn't need to be done, maybe even stuff that is better left undone?

Yeah, I really need to learn how to ignore those pesky motivational urges when they hit.

Today I was motivated to clean my girl's room. Which is really silly, because I never feel motivated to do that.

I have a few basic rules when it comes to their room.

No Food (that's a biggie, I've been know to foam at the mouth and spout incoherent gibberish when I find food in their room).

If you wear it and want it cleaned, put it in the hamper. I hate playing hide and seek with the dirty laundry. The dirty laundry always wins. Me thinks it cheats or something.

If it's been cleaned put it away. If you don't mind smelling like you've rolled around on the floor prior to leaving the house (and looking significantly wrinkled as if you had, too) then don't worry about this rule. Just toss the clean clothes where ever you feel like. Except into the dirty laundry hamper. Do that and Mom is going to foam at the mouth and spout gibberish again.

If I ask you to vacuum, clear a path on the floor first. I guarantee that while you may be terribly distressed that you just sucked up your favorite beaded necklace, you're nowhere near as distressed as Mom is that her vacuum just choked on your favorite necklace and died.

Keep it picked up enough so that it isn't a fire hazard. That's just common sense, which unfortunately as they come closer to the teenage years seems to be diminishing, so I had to make it a rule.

The last rule is a relatively recent one, but important nonetheless. If there are smells emanating from your room that cause passerby's to gag and pass out, find the source and dispose of it.

I had to enforce that last rule when Thing 1 went away to camp. Apparently they played in the lake while wearing shoes. Thing 1, being the thoughtfully thoughtless person that she is, put her wet shoes in a plastic bag so as not to ruin the rest of the things in her duffel bag.

I would actually have applauded her efforts if she had not, while unpacking said duffel bag, removed the bag with the wet shoes and just tossed it into the corner of the closet.

*Gag*

Three weeks later when I found the source, I tossed the bag in the trash and came up with the last rule.

The mess and clutter do not really bother me. I can always shut the door so that I can't see it. Unless it's really REALLY cluttered, like it was today. Then I can't even find the door, let alone shut it.

So while my charming little ladies were at school today I went in armed with cleaning supplies, fresh linens and garbage bags. I actually did pretty good and had it decently picked up within a few hours. My mistake is when I noticed they had about two dozen jewelry boxes and the like to store their treasures in scattered across the dresser.

Surely I could condense these so there were only a dozen or so total? I dumped the contents from a few of them and designated a couple to hold specific things. This one would be good for hair ties, this one could hold the five thousand tubes of clear flavored lip gloss they aren't allowed to own or wear, this one is for good jewelry and that one is for junk jewelry.

I had everything sorted and reorganized and had just finished putting them back on the freshly dusted dresser when I spied it. Tucked back in a corner behind everything else, nearly hidden from view was one more jewelry box.

It was a cute little thing, shaped like a heart and covered in red leopard print velvet. I just knew it had to be Sky's, as it fit her to a tee and was on her side of the dresser. I almost just left it, after all, what was one more jewelry box? I had just gotten rid of a baker's dozen or more so did I really need to reorganize this one too? Couldn't I just leave it there and take care of it at a later date?

Unfortunately for me I was in "the zone" cleaning wise and it would have bugged me all day if I didn't finish what I started. In hindsight I realize I need to learn to ignore this feeling as well the motivational feeling one.

I picked the cute little box up, figuring it would be more junk jewelry... maybe some trading cards or a stash of change that I could deposit in her piggy bank. I held it in both hands and used my thumbs to pop the lid off so I could see the contents.

Oh Holy Freaking Hell!!!

All thought fled my mind as I screamed like a girl and threw the box and it's contents as far from me as I could. It hit a wall by the beds, bounced off and came back towards me causing me to panic and bash my shin on the dresser as I scurried to get out of the way.

Seriously.

Please tell me who in their right mind would keep a collection of cicada shells in a velvet heart shaped box?

No, scratch that. Who in their right mind would keep a collection of cicada shells?

I live in Ohio. Cicadas are not an unusual sight. I have had them land on me. I have held them in my hands to show my children they shouldn't be afraid of them. I have rescued them from my sweet babe who has never even considered being afraid of the things. Why would you be afraid of something that looks and sounds so funny buzzing and flapping it's wings in a vain attempt to get away from the drooling giant holding it by the legs and shrieking with laughter?

My point is, I'm not afraid of the things. Unless of course I happen upon 30 some odd shells when I'm least expecting it.

Then I have a slight heart attack and it takes four hours for my heart to stop racing and my breathing to regulate.

Aren't children fun?