Saturday, February 28, 2009

Genie In A Bottle

I often wonder if I could have a super power, what would it be?

Sometimes I think I would like to be able to multiply myself. One of me that is the cleaning lady, one that is the chef, one that is the wife, another would be the homeschool teacher, and so on.

I don't know about you, but I believe that every homemaker has multiple personalities. We always have to switch to different modes in order to do everything we need to do.

We even occasionally have to switch to the "handyman" mode and that's just plain weird, if you ask me.

When I was younger, I was fascinated with the show I Love Jeannie. I would practice crossing my arms and bobbing my head while blinking just to see if what I wanted would appear before my eyes. Of course, I knew it wouldn't happen, but it was still fun.

Whatever Jeannie wanted done, all she had to do was blink and voila! magic would happen. It would be nice to blink and have a fabulous dinner appear on the dining room table. The laundry would be folded in a flash, and I would enjoy watching an enchanted magic eraser scrubbing my bathtubs for me.

The vaccuum would be running all over the house sucking up those pesky dustmites and the sheets would shake themselves out and gently fall back to the bed while the blankets smoothed themselves of any wrinkles.

I have to say that I am truly happy with God's will for my life. I am not unhappy when I have to clean the toilets or wash the dishes.

I was just thinking that maybe it would be nice to have the washcloth do the chore by itself so that I can keep a better eye on my toddler and prevent him from putting things into the toilet and flushing it.

Or playing with the plunger. Or playing with my dishes and watching one of them fall to the floor with a crash. Or spilling cereal onto the carpet. Or...

Yeah. Things like that.

Hole In The Wall

Our house was brand new when we moved in about three years ago.

Bright and shiny like a new penny and no one had lived here before us.

Every weekend, we would all pile into the van and take the trip to see the progress on the house being built just for us.

We have pictures of the piece of land we bought with no house on it. We have pictures of the house when it was just a skeleton of what it is now.

We excitedly awaited the time we would be able to move in and make it our home.

In the three years we've lived here, we've certainly done that.

Considering the boys' destructive abilities, I'm surprised the house hasn't crumpled down upon us. Not that they haven't tried to do just that either.

Little Sneezy has approached toddlerhood and life has been a little more hectic. Trying to keep those chubby, baby fingers from reaching for everything is a full-time job.

One evening after dinner, Sneezy took a cup full of water that was sitting on the table and poured it onto the kitchen floor.

I asked Bashful to get a towel and wipe it up because our floor gets quite slippery when wet and I don't want to have to take anyone to the ER.

Of course, the job didn't get done and the floor remained wet.

Bashful and Grumpy had just made plans to do something together that made Grumpy quite delirious with excitement. He made a flying leap toward the stairs and landed into the wall thanks to the still wet floor.

There is now a hole in the wall.

About the size of Grumpy's head.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Death To All Vaccuums

During the days when we had a family of mice in the house and Cleo was constantly in the midst of battles, something strange happened to our vaccuum.

It was a fairly new vaccuum because we had just broken the tenth vaccuum we've owned since the first year of our marriage. Considering we've only been married 13 years, that says a lot about us.

Vaccuums do not last long in this house.

We've tried all kinds and our present vaccuum is the canister kind.....and florescent green.

After the hero of the day (Mr. Mouse Killer) came and wiped out the mouse population living in our house, I noticed two humongous holes in the hose of our vaccuum.

I couldn't decide if I or the boys had tried to suck up something that was really sharp and thus blew out the side of the hose in a couple places, or the mice were really, really, really hungry.

This fairly new vaccuum was officially not fairly new anymore. I had to wrap up the holes with duct tape and keep my fingers crossed that it would still work.

In the convening months, it has been touch and go with the vaccuum. Most days, I have to take everything apart and shake out things that wouldn't go all the way through and then put everything back together again to finish vaccuuming up the chips or cereal that were crushed into the carpet thanks to Happy.

There are days when I wish for death to all vaccuums.

I'm still waiting for the invention of the perfect vaccuum. The kind that never breaks, never clogs, cleans the air while your at it, sucks so well that you know there is nothing in or under that carpet, and is cheap.

Wishful thinking, I know.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Broccoli Sandwich

It was Happy's turn to go out to lunch with Doc today.

He is the fourth in line and it probably seems to him that he always has to wait so long for his turn with Daddy.

Doc takes the boys out once a week for some one-on-one time alone with him and they always get to pick wherever they want to go.

Happy picked Wendy's.

Doc asked, "Do you want to get a broccoli sandwich?"

Waiting with suspense, we expected to get a "No way!"

What we got instead was, "Yep. It's my favorite."

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Puppy Switch

Last Sunday morning, a friend of ours let Sneezy borrow her little stuffed Dalmation puppy.

It was quickly confiscated by four-year-old Happy since Sneezy was mostly interested in driving his mother crazy during the church service.

It wasn't long when Grumpy (the one with the stuffed animal fetish) realized that there was a cute, little stuffed puppy within his vicinity.

It wasn't long after that when Happy and Grumpy were alternately snatching and resnatching the puppy from each other.

I had to put a stop to it and gave Happy the puppy.

We were in church after all and Grumpy is nine years old after all.

It seemed fair at the time especially when my nerves were already stretched taut for everyone to see since we were all sitting in the front row.

After church, Grumpy took off with the stuffed animal not to be seen from again until our friend from church asked about her puppy.

As I yelled for Grumpy to return the animal, our friend changed her mind and said that he could have it.

Muttering under my breath, I made sure he said thank you and we were off for home.

The next morning, Grumpy was busy with homeschool, so he didn't have time to play with his new confiscated addiction.

I was sitting at the computer teaching someone when the screeching noise coming from Sneezy finally pierced through my skull and I yelled, "What is going on?! What's wrong with him?"

I usually expected someone to answer me and Grumpy replied, "Happy won't let Sneezy hold the new puppy."

I marched up the stairs and there is Happy and little 15-month-old Sneezy grappling for the stuffed animal.

Happy wasn't letting Sneezy have it and Sneezy was adamant that it was his. He was holding onto the thing for dear life.

I was actually thinking at the time that it would have been nice for Sneezy to wait to fight with his older brother until he was at least two years old.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

It is official.

I can now listen to Doc's sermons online!


If you would like to listen as well, then here is the link:

Just scroll down and the sermons are on the left side bar.

You may think I am biased, but I say that he is one of the best preachers I've ever heard.

(The link is also on my own side bar under Church of the Apostles.)

Friday, February 13, 2009


Everyone in this house knows about Grumpy's stuffed animal fetish.

Even four-year-old Happy has figured this out.

The older boys and I were in the midst of our schooling when we hear a little sing-song voice coming from upstairs.

"Grumpy! Guess what I've got?"

Grumpy looks up the stairs and as soon as he realizes that Happy has his favorite cuddle bunny, dangling it like a carrot in front of a rabbit, the boy became a blur.

He flew up the stairs.

Happy squealed and turned toward his bedroom. He yelled to his co-conspirator, six-year-old Sleepy, "Hurry! Hurry!"

He streaks through the door and it slams shut.

Of course, they aren't strong enough to keep it closed and what commenced was a bitter struggle on Grumpy's part and a gleeful tugging on Happy's.

Happy has figured out what makes Grumpy tick.

This is going to be interesting.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Superbowl Screaming

Two Sundays ago, it was Superbowl Sunday.

To get it out in the open right away, I rooted for the Steelers.

I told the boys about the momentous occasion. They seemed interested about it, but when it came time to sit down in front of the TV to bask in football delight, they opted to play PS2 games.

They were not, on the other hand, able to quite ignore their mother's intermittent yells. She was quite excited throughout the game and near the end of the 2nd quarter, their mother started to scream....and scream....and scream. (If you were watching as well, you would know why.)

"Go. Go! Oh, my gosh! GO! No way! Run! RUN! Woo-hoo!"

Sleepy and Happy were quite confused about what could possibly make their mother scream in such a way and were a little worried about her.

They sat down with their mom and Doc to watch the football game.

When there was another amazing touchdown taking place, their mother began to scream again. Doc's ears began to bleed.

During his mother's excitable fit, four-year-old Happy reached out and rubbed her back in order to soothe her.

Along with the screaming, came laughter.

Next time, in order to not frighten my little boys, I will probably have to gag myself.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Doggone Morning

I have written this particular post to encourage everyone.....because we ALL have one of those days......

This morning, I was awakened by the buzzing of the alarm clock and immediately hit snooze. I hit snooze three times and after each time I immediately fell asleep again.

There's something about having five boys that enables me to do that.

After the third time, I went about getting ready for church and waking my sons.

Half an hour before we were to leave, I asked Bashful to let Leigh outside in order for her to do her business outside instead of inside.

Outside is always preferable.

I kept an eye on the clock and ten minutes later, I asked Bashful to let her back in.

I should have known he would be in his own world and so he didn't hear me.

Five minutes later, I asked if he had let her in. He said, "Oops," and opened the back door to wake the entire neighborhood.


No answer. No running paws.

We had ten minutes until we needed to leave, so I told Bashful and Grumpy to go outside and look for her.

Five minutes later, no Leigh.

I called for that dog over and over. Called her names, too. Gnashed and gritted my teeth alternately while complaining about the dog to the boys.

" could she?!.....where'd she go?.....that stupid animal!"

Finally, I had no choice and drove away. I called Doc and informed him of the latest dog escapade. When I asked him if I should turn around, he said no, and we hung up.

Twenty-five minutes later, Doc called me and told me to go back. Our poochie-pooh is an aggressive dog and if she decided to pick a fight with a neighborhood dog, we would be dog to speak.

As I began to turn the car around, Sleepy and Happy came out of their own worlds to ask what we were doing.

I explained the situation and was dumbfounded when Sleepy informed me that he had put Leigh in the basement.

I pursed my lips and thought to myself, "This is Sleepy we are talking about here. The kid has no concept of time."

"Uh, you mean this morning? Are you sure?"

"Um, I think so," he replied. He didn't sound very sure.

I drove all the way back home.

I went into the house and opened the basement door.

There was that dang dog sitting pretty at the bottom of the stairs wagging her tail.


It was one of those mornings.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Jeans Jaunt

When I put on my trusty "after childbirth" jeans a little while ago, I looked in the mirror and realized the time had finally come to make the jaunt to the store for new jeans.

There was a rip about twelve inches long on the inside of my thigh.

Okay, then.

The other two pairs of jeans hanging in my closet were not much better off. One had a rip in the knee and the other was covered in old paint.

I had no choice.

I plopped the baby in jail for a couple hours and girded myself for the torture of finding just the right pair of jeans.

I purposely didn't think about it as I told my husband and children goodbye.

I hate dwelling on sad things.

I went to my favorite jeans store. The kind that is cheap.

After my second tustle in the fitting room, I hit the jackpot. I knew this because I could pull them up without too much wiggling and my stomach didn't hang over the button.

It was good enough for me and I headed for the cashier.

They aren't even officially called mom jeans. Not a bit of elastic in them. Well, not that I know of.

Now that that's over, I think I need to find some new shoes.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

A Wish Upon A Star

We've already had two birthdays this year and it's only February.

For each birthday, I've made a cupcake cake which is very popular in this house.

I have told the boys that we will celebrate Valentine's Day with cupcakes as well that have hearts and red and white sprinkles on them.

They are counting down the days.

A couple days ago, we were all getting into the car. It was dark outside and Grumpy had looked up at the sky to look at all the stars.

He exclaimed that there was a shooting star and immediately clasped his hands together and placed them underneath his chin.

His face was a study in earnest with his eyes closed.

He whispered a few words and all I could make out was the word "cupcakes".

As he was getting into the car, he told his father that he had wished for a thousand cupcakes.

He and his brother, Bashful, thought this was hilarious and pealed with laughter.

Valentine's Day just can't come soon enough.

Getting Around

Sneezy is 14-months-old now and is enjoying the freedom of exploration.

His chubby little legs have taken him all over this house and I usually hear him screeching with pleasure over one thing or another.

He particularly likes playing with the cat's water bowl.

I usually find cat food floating around in the bowl thanks to Sneezy, and this morning, I heard the usual swishing around and turned to confront Sneezy with his latest escapade.

He had Happy's toothbrush in his hand and was using it to stir the slushy cat food around.


A few days ago, I went into Sleepy and Happy's bedroom to make sure it was picked up. Sneezy had followed me in there and turned to the closet doors.

He banged on them and looked at me. I interpreted his body language and realized he wanted me to open them so that he could feast his eyes on the colorful array of toys.

I left him happily playing and went about my usual business.

Later, I peeked in the bedroom to see Sleepy and Happy tumbling and wrestling about on the top bunk.

I looked around for Sneezy and only saw two chubby, little legs poking out from underneath the bed.

How cute is that.