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Showing posts from March, 2007

Dum-Dum Confusion

To keep my two-year-old quiet during the church service, I have succumbed to bribery. The kid has about three to four dum-dums each service, but hey, he's quiet and happy. He was on his fourth dum-dum when it was time for our family to go to the front of the sanctuary to partake of communion. I set his feet on the kneeler beside me and then relaxed which I shouldn't have done. As we all got up and were about to go back to our seats, Grumpy whispered to me, "Mom, Happy dropped his sucker!" I said, "Oh! Okay. Well, go get it." I had failed to inform myself of where said sucker was. I turned to go, but I looked over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't making a scene. Our son pushed his way past the people who were about to kneel, balanced his stomach on the altar with his feet up in the air, trying to reach the sucker that I now realized was on the other side of the altar. Our curious expressions immediately turned dumbfounded. Our eyes grew big and our mout

Pet Cemetery

Hamsters and guinea pigs are the most murderous creatures on the face of the Earth. That's probably not true, but after what I have witnessed in real life, I will never feel the same about the furry, little balls of fluff ever again. When our oldest was in 1st grade and we lived in New Jersey, my husband had the idea of getting our sons a couple hamsters. I thought, "Why not? How much work could they be?" We knew nothing about hamsters. So, hubby took two of our boys to a pet store and found two hamsters, one for Nat and one for Cabe, and put them both in one cage. Soon after that, the boys came to me to say that Joe was dead. I was horrified and ran upstairs to see. There was Joe staring into space dead as a doornail. I thought of all sorts of reasons for the hamster's death and even looked at the other hamster with narrowed eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to believe the cute little thing was capable of murder. So, we threw Joe away and got another hamster. Thi

Pregnant vs. Just Plain Fat

Saturday, I had the opportunity to go to a Pampered Chef party at a friend's house. I was feeling particularly bubbly that day and it must have showed. As everyone tells me to say hi to my boys for them, the consultant asks, "How many boys do you have?" I said, "Four," and she asked, "And one on the way?" I gave her a blank stare. How in the world did she guess? I am only about a month along. As everyone congratulates me, I am still in shock. I hadn't planned on anyone knowing for at least two more months. As I'm driving home, I realize that it could have gone badly. What if I hadn't been pregnant? That led to more thinking and here's how it went: Those of you who don't even start showing until your fourth month- I hate you. Those of you who don't get the kind of morning sickness that lasts all day every day for four months- I hate you. Those of you who don't go through a nightmare of pain without medication during labor- I

Spring Fever

Spring is here and our family is soaking up the very unusual, beautiful weather we are having. The boys have been waiting for it to get warmer for so long that they are basking in it now. Nathanael would say, "I hate winter!" and, of course, we would agree. The boys have been outside every day since it got warm and it has been a joy to see them so happy. It seems like boys and the outdoors just go hand-in-hand. My youngest, Aidan, will get into the wagon or a lawn chair and just sit there reveling in the warmth and sunshine. I even got out my spring decorations and put them around the house. The fresh breezes coming from the open windows have aired out the winter staleness and the smell of poopy diapers nicely. I look out the back door and see Scout busily digging so hard that all I see is dirt flying in the air. Dang puppy. Leigh has been happily catching the balls that the boys have hit with their bats. Hubby has even sprayed bug spray all around the house, sweet man. I am

Transformer Mom

In the 1970s and 80s, it was perfectly normal to walk home from school. The elementary school that I attended was only a few minutes away from home and my parents didn't have to think twice about letting me walk. When we were kids, we frequently walked or biked to get anywhere. These days, things have changed. On a particularly windy day in Ohio where I grew up, I was walking home from school and right before the house where I lived was a big road that I had to cross. My parents had taught me to look both ways before crossing and I took their suggestion to heart. Of course, I didn't want to be road kill, so that day I made sure that the cars went by before walking across the street. I started across just as a van went past me and as I ran across the road with my hands outstretched, the first two fingers on my right hand hit the back of the van. I looked down to make sure they were still there and immediately started laughing in relief and felt invincible. I ran into th

Our Dream House

Most of my childhood memories revolve around a single house. The house my mother grew up in and where we spent our family vacations. Our family of six would pile into the car with our suitcases and pillows and take the four-hour drive to our favorite place in the whole world- the hills of West Virginia. I remember arriving at night most of the time. I would love to watch the tall trees go by and feel the car swerve around every curve. There were not a lot of traffic lights in the hills where the house was located and it seemed surreal. If you didn't know where you were going, you'd be lost in no time. Finally, we would reach the driveway at the bottom of the hill. We couldn't see the house from the road because of the cluster of trees hiding it, so we always waited with bated breath for that first glimpse of the house. First, we would see the welcoming lights shining through the branches and then there it was. As soon as the car was parked, we would run down the b

Like Mother, Like Son

As I am taking my two-year-old out of the nursery with his arms around my neck almost choking me to death, I can't help myself but squeeze him back even though I am frustrated with him. It always starts off well. He sits quietly in church with his brothers, but then starts talking in his happy manner and even though mommy and daddy try to shush him, he still has not mastered the art of whispering. Then begins the ritual of nursery visiting. On days that my husband is needed to help in the service, I plop my son in the room with the responsible lady and hear his screams all the way down the hall feeling extremely guilty all the while. Other days, I can't bear to hear the quiet room full of little ones working busily be shattered by the piercing screams of my son being left behind by his mother. So, we go visit together or sit in a deserted playroom so that I can spare everyone from the peaceful scene being destroyed. As I'm sitting in a chair watching my son playing happily

Not Yet, Mom

Our four-year-old, Justin, is so cute he could talk himself out of a hanging. He uses this fact to his advantage. When we are in church, he will go up to our pastor's wife and all he has to do is look up at her with those big, blue eyes framed by long lashes and he will immediately get a seat on her lap. He's a charmer and I'm no exception. A few nights ago, he asked if he could call Grandma, so I punched in my mom's number. He took the phone away from me and started pacing all around the house talking about anything and everything. After a while, she gave the phone to dad so he could to talk to him. The first time I tried to take the phone from Justin he said, "Not yet, Mom" and walked away. I thought, "Ok, maybe a few minutes more." I felt bad because he only gets to see them once a year. More time went by and finally I felt I had to put my foot down. As I'm taking the phone away, he starts panicking and big crocodile tears form in his eyes and

Dingbat Dee Rises Again

I should have been a blond. No offense to my blond friends, but those dumb blond jokes would definitely apply to me. Embarrassing moments happen to me all the time, but this was so crazy I had to share. I was driving on the highway on the way to a friend's house to go to a party. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and I was on a high from the drug "getting out of the house". After I stopped to get gas, I decided to call my husband and remind him about something. I punch in a familiar number on my cell phone and the man on the other end says, "------'s Pizza Place!" in one of those funny Iraqi accents. I said, "Ha, ha. Very funny," in a sarcastic voice and continue talking. My husband was known for pulling a stunt like that, so I didn't give it another thought. I ramble on about cell phones and stick shifts and the man on the other end humors me and keeps saying, "Uh huh" in a kindly, but confused manner. Finally, he stops m

Unca Gug

Whenever my brother comes to visit, it's always a riot. He spoils the boys rotten and then gives them back. They have now come to expect Little Debbie cakes, candy, toys, or books every time he's here. Their favorite thing to do with Unca Gug is play monster. Whenever they hear that monster laugh from my brother, they will let out their high-pitched screams and run for their lives. They keep a close eye on his whereabouts as well. The poor man can barely go to the bathroom without a worried voice saying, "Where's Unca Gug?" Aidan, particularly, is enthralled with Unca Gug's things. Before I had the genius idea of putting up a gate in front of my brother's bedroom door, Aidan took it upon himself to explore the forbidden territory many times. I could always tell Aidan had been up to mischief when my brother comes to me with a question about where something of his has gone. One time, I found my brother's toothpaste smeared over every surface of

Niagra Falls

When Aidan wasn't even a glint in his father's eye and our third son, Justin, was just a baby, we lived in a cute townhouse in New Jersey. The people who had lived there before us had turned half of the garage into a storage room. I was more than happy to make it into a playroom for my boys. The playroom was right off the laundry room and I was a little concerned about the exposed water line coming from the laundry room, but I wasn't about to give up the chance to have a place for all of their toys. The water line was right at their level and they loved to hang on it like little monkeys. The hose looked sturdy enough to me, so even though I told them not to hang on it anymore, I wasn't consistent with my orders. I came to regret that. As I'm doing chores around the house one day, all of a sudden I hear a sound of rushing water and yelling from the playroom. I run to the doorway and stare in shock at what I am seeing. The playroom floor was quickly being flooded by t