HELLLOOO, where were you made and other randomness?

The other morning while I was straightening the Wild Child's hair, I notice that she continually is admiring herself in the mirror. I reflect back to when she was a baby and people would stop me and tell me she was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. In fact her dad, the Rocket Scientist, has mentioned from time to time that her beautiful china doll face never leads one to believe how calculating and feral she really is. Suddenly the Wild Child makes eye contact with me in the mirror and says, "Mom, it looks like I am made in China.."When we load in the mini-van to take the kids anywhere, I holler, "Seat belt check." If the Sea Monkeys have their seat belts on, they holler back, "CHECK." This has been working really well, since then I don't have to question them one-by-one to see who has their seat belts on and who we are waiting for. Yesterday morning, I forget to yell "Seat belt check." The Little Jamaican was not having a change in the routine. She starts yelling, "Check!", from the back of the mini-van and continues to yell it at me until I acknowledge that she has her seat belt on AND say, "Seat belt check." This is when I realize that the 1st One is growing up. "Little Jamaican, the seat belt check is getting really old.", I hear her say. She speaks of it as if it is a catch phrase uttered way past it's time. Next thing you know, I will be embarrassing her with out trying. Oh.....wait, I already do that. She was mortified when I forgot to put on a certain piece of support wear to drive her to school last week. She told me to zip up my coat so no would notice. She kept reminding me that I didn't need to get out of the car. Like I wanted to....It was 24 F.

The Little Jamaican wanted to go out and jump on the trampoline. I am fine with that, I just wanted her to put some clothes on since she was wearing her a "cheerleader" skirt and shirt. When I reminded her she needed on something more than she was wearing, she responded with, "HEEELLLLLOOOOO, Why do you think I am wearing this?" Ya, I'm not sure this is the tone I want to hear from my 5 year old. "Heeellllooooo, it's below freezing out there. Put on your snow pants and a coat." Oh, wait, that isn't actually teaching her to speak respectfully. "Hey, I was thinking that maybe you would put on your snow pants and a coat."
In the past few months, we discovered that My Son has some permanent hearing loss. It is suspect that it is congenital. Strangely, this bit of information brought a thrill of excitement around here. Truly a blessing to find something that, when corrected, would make a huge difference for him. The day he got his hearing aids, his voice level was half as loud. You could see that he was hearing some things for the first time. There was much joy and celebration in our home. The only down side to all of that is.......he is a little boy.......which in this case, translates to one of them is already missing. At $1250.00 a piece used, they are not easy or economical to replace. We have torn the house apart looking for it, scoured the school, harrassed the local library and friends, and actually cleaned out the dumpster on wheels (a.k.a. mini-van). Amazing how in a short period of time there are so many variables of where that missing hearing aid could be. Anyway, if you all wouldn't mind, say a little prayer for the wayward hearing aide to show up. Thank you.

Hot Pursuit.....

Sometimes I think it is just a matter of time before I find myself wondering where I went wrong.... Wondering why I am seeing one of my sweet beautiful children on an episode of "COPS." It's not so much the lack of respect for my authority or the screaming they hate me when we have to leave the mall play area or even the brawls they get into with each other that worry me the most. It is their sense of adventure. The constant question in their mind that says, "I wonder what will happen if I do this?" You know like when the Wild Child cut up a whole mess of stuff in her brother's closet or the feathers, knee deep in a bedroom, when they opened a down pillow.

Today, it was the Little Jamaican who let that question get the best of her. All morning long, before kindergarten, I kept asking her to find her homework so we could turn it in today. She kept telling me it was lost and that she couldn't find it. Every time I reminded her, she was watching TV. (Dora has a way of sucking that child in.) Finally, I turn off the TV and tell her she has to find it. After a half-hearted attempt, and claiming it was no where to be found, I started looking for it myself. I found it a short time later. So this is why I was so surprised when we went to load up in the family mini-van to hear her exclaim, with a smirk on her face, "Look what I did, Mom." I looked to find she had drawn on the side of the van with what appears to be permanent marker. What concerned me most, was, after losing some privileges and a scolding, she still could not wipe that little smirky smile off her face.

So, all the marker did not come off, but more than I thought would did. So this has me wondering, "When I will be getting that call to come post bail?"

Is Mexico Know For It's Salt or It's Restrooms?

Last week or was that a week and a half ago......anyway, driving to Carson City, NV, for my grandfather's funeral, we made many pit stops. At one point a family member we were traveling with threatened to put her 30 year old husband in Depends. Truthfully, it was those under the age of 8 that we stopped for the most. As we are rolling into the rest area at the Salt Flats, the little Jamaican looks around and asks with all the excitement of Christmas morning, "Are we in Mexico?" I have never been to Mexico, but this is not what I expect it to look like, but to the Little Jamaican, it might as well have been. This part of Interstate 80 is about the most boring stretch of road ever. That is unless you get out, walk around in the salt, taste it if you are one of my Sea Monkeys, which the Wild Child emphatically exclaimed, "It's just like real salt!", or desperately need a restroom and have just found one.

What's a Girl To Wear?

This morning I sent the Little Jamaican in to get herself dressed. This can be quite confusing when you are four years old. Then you add that it has warmed up just enough that all the Sea Monkeys think that Spring has sprung.This causes some serious wardrobe confusion. It is a bit chilly, a bit warm and plenty of mud to tromp through.She had just gotten dressed and I had not done her hair yet.......and she had developed a case of the sillies.I have no idea why, but when she does, it always ends up with a shot of her back side.
I hope you have a wonderfully warm weekend.

Something in the air....

Did you all read this post? You know, I was reading what Jen had to say today about her son and a pair of scissors he was returning to her, when I realized it was time to get some clothes for two of my kids in the shower. As I walked into one of the bedrooms, the Wild Child jumps out of the closet. looking very guilty, with a pair of scissors that had been on my dresser less than an hour before. When I had first walked into the room I noticed a ribbon had been cut into confetti. I'm thinking, great another mess to clean-up. That was until I looked in the closet. The little...darling apparently was feeling...creative? Not really sure what triggered this need to be destructive, but she cut up several of My Son's clothes and the Little Jamaican's shoes. My Son's shirts were randomly freed of a left sleeve or a collar or other random nicks and cuts. The Little Jamaican's shoes were disemboweled. Really, that is the only way I can think to describe it. Needless to say, there have been some pretty stiff consequences. Oh, I almost forgot, she also cut her own hair. It's lovely. (not!)

So I say to parents everywhere: There is something in the air. Hide your scissors or forever grieve the losses.

Funny backsides, cheap gas and missing you.

Today as we were at the gas station, the Little Jamaican notices a man putting air in the tire of a motorized scooter. She starts chuckling and then full on laughing. She blurts out, "Mom, I see that guys butt cracker." Of course, I have to look, yep, you can see where the good Lord split him. Leave it to a four year old to notice, find funny and point out such a spectacle to the whole car.

Speaking of gas stations, I was so excited to see that one of the local gas stations is down to $2.59 a gallon for our lowest grade. Then because I'm apparently not thinking clearly, I decided to see what it cost for gas in some of the other places we lived. Most of them were a few cents to about 20 cents lower. Then I got to Kansas. You know where we lived in Kansas is down to $1.97 gallon. Suddenly $2.59 feels a little high.

The Rocket Scientist was business traveling last week. Sadly not leaving me much time to blog when I'm running around trying to keep the Sea Monkeys out of trouble all by myself. This week is not different, he left today, taking my heart and my sanity with him.

I miss you all. I will be doing my best to catch up with you. If I don't you will know that the Sea Monkeys are keeping me buried.

Funny stuff I learn about from my kids....

The Little Jamaican kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I was having a heck of time understanding her. Finally, I got that she wanted to watch something. Then I had to ask many times what it was she wanted to watch, because it sounded like she said, "Chuv-chuvs." Ya.....I didn't have a clue, but the Rocket Scientist new what it was.

Toilet Only Family

You all know about how the Olympic sport went at our house, right? Well, that has had some ramifications I was not expecting. A few days ago, the Rocket Scientist steps out into the backyard to call the Wild Child and the Little Jamaican in for dinner. He finds two little girls who are butt naked. Yes, just from the waste down. So, we have a brief talk about why we don't take our clothes off outside. So, dumbly, I'm thinking problem fixed. That is until I walk into the back yard the other day to find the Little Jamaican "squatting" on the lawn so to say. She argues that it is OK since the dogs do it and so does My Son. Yeah.......that's the kind of logic I'm getting from a 4 year old. I might be in trouble there.
Because of this particular situation, I have been trying to convince My Son that he needs to come in the house to go "potty." Friday morning all the Sea Monkeys were up really early. Like, I wasn't out to bed yet, early. So like any good mom of young children, I start to tell everyone to go "potty." As I am laying bed I can hear someone relieving themselves in the bathroom down the hall. Somehow it sort of sounds like My Son, but not quite right. A few minutes later I walk down the hall, because the 1st One is claiming that the floor is wet outside the laundry room. Now I'm thinking something has gone wrong with the washing machine and it must have flooded. I'm starting to worry about water damage until I see the wet floor. Clearly, someone with male plumbing has used my carpet like he uses the grass in the back yard. I know that there are dad's out there who think that it is all cool to use the back yard as a loo, but not for this house. Nope............we apparently don't clearly see the difference between grass and carpet. We are a toilet only family.

Really.....I do feed her

The Little Jamaican is always "hungy" these days and if I don't feed her when she thinks I should, she will help herself. She has an itchy nose because of this days choice. Can you tell what it is? I'll give you a hint........It was in the pantry in a canister and I'm not talking about the crackers she knocked on the floor.
Give up? OK, it was the whole wheat flour. The girl was eating right out of the canister with her fingers.

How bad do you need that bra?

A few days ago, a friend of mine, who will remain linkless to protect her innocence, met me for lunch at the mall. While there she mentioned that she needed to purchase a sports bra since she has started exercising and has been blessed with more than her share of , ummmmm, let's just say, she makes my look like I haven't hit puberty yet.

Anyway, on to the adventure. I had My Son and the Little Jamaican with me. I don't know if I have ever mentioned any shopping trips with said Sea Monkeys, but bra shopping is not something I really enjoy with them. When we reach the lingerie department My Son squeals and the only way to put this is, starts groping the padded bras. The "crazy man" giggle immediately follows. The Little Jamaican starts chanting, "Boobies, boobies, booooooooooooooobiiiiiieeeeeees!" Why must they be so embarrassing?

Look at your what?

I over heard the kids a few weeks ago talking about something that just didn't seem to make sense. I didn't stop to find out the details because, well, somebody has to do the dishes since the RS is a bit out of commission. (A posting for another day.) If you know me at all, you know that I am not the one to do dishes in the house. The RS is the man when it comes to dishes, garbage and mowing the lawn. None of which he is really doing right now. Sorry, I'm getting off track. Back to the conversation I was over hearing. They were saying something about a "blood eye." I could see them, so I knew no one was bleeding or doing anything obscene. A few weeks pass and I hear this phrase again. This time I hear one child say to another, "I don't want to see your blood eye." Well, now I must investigate what this about. I head over to where they are. Before I can ask what's going on, the Little Jamaican says to me as she pulls the skin down just under her eyes, showing the curve and veins of her eye balls, "Mom, look at my blood eye." What do you say to that?

D-D-D-D-D-D-Dora

While it is still on my mind, here are some funny things about the Little Jamaican's birthday. Ever since her 3rd birthday wrapped up, she had been asking me for a "Dora Cake." Usually she is very fickle and changes what she wants often. And I mean often. We can go out to eat and she will change her mind three times between ordering and getting our food at McDonald's for crying out loud. She had been dead set on a Dora Cake for almost a year never wavering. So here it is:I think the bakery did a nice job. If you look a little closer at the "y" and "B", you might notice where someone got a little impatient to taste the birthday cake. I'm not saying I know who for sure, but I put money on My Son or the Little Jamaican. Then there is the inescapable sibling rivalry that happens when one of them gets a new toy. The Wild Child is pouting in this puddle. Kind of makes you wonder about a few things, doesn't it?I really wanted a picture of the Little Jamaican on her new Big Wheel, but she and My Son are way to fast for my "not so expensive" camera. This is the best shot I got. Hard to believe there is three years between them.

And then there were 4 over 4

How did this happen? My Little Jamaican turned 4 today. It just doesn't seem possible that she is that old to me. It is silly that my heart should hurt that she is that old, but some how it does. She came as a spot of sunshine in a very challenging time for me. She is still a spot of sunshine to me. I love you Little Jamaican! Happy Birthday!

Is it wrong that I think this is funny?

They were singing just about every song they know. So I decided I wanted to record it for black mail at a later date and got something far better instead. (The drill running in the back ground is the Rocket Scientist hanging a valance in their bedroom.)

All good things must come to an end...

What a fun vacation that was! So there was some stuff I left out while on vacation. Mostly because it takes me so long to put my thoughts into words and then longer to make them make sense to more than just me. One of my very favorite things in the world to do is to walk through model homes. If you have ever done this with me, you know that I could go on forever. Most people are "crying uncle" long before I am tired of it. There are some funny things I have noticed about model homes. Like this for instance:Honestly, would most people put these items on top of their dryer? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all about every room in the house being a place that is pleasant to look at, but come on. Really? Would I really put more dirt voluntarily into one of the main rooms in the house dedicated to removing dirt? I'm just sayin'.

Here is another one that has me wondering. I love the theme and color scheme in this room. I find it cute beyond words, but, (you knew the but was coming right?) the life preserver on the bed? You know in my house it would be doing the opposite of preserving life if it were left on a child's bed. I am certain that some child would be trying to use it on a sibling as collar and leash or possibly a device of torture.

Ok, enough of that! So when Wednesday morning rolled around this week and we had to start heading home, there were so many tears cried by children begging to stay for just a few more days. They were honestly breaking my heart. The kids had slept in that morning, which was good. I could do so much more, faster without their sweet little selves distracting me. My Son and the Wild Child woke first. We tried to keep them quiet so they would not wake the others. That didn't work so well since any time we weren't watching they would sneak off into the other room and try to wake the others. When they did finally wake the 1st Child, she was not happy about it. She was still very tired from being out so late the night before. She comes to me and says, "Mom, these two woke me up with their running around and screaming. I wasn't ready to wake up and now they are making me annoying!"

Not ten minutes later I am trying to convince the Sea Monkeys to get dressed. I wanted to get packed up and on the road before it got too hot. The Little Jamaican walks over to me butt naked with her underwear around her neck saying as she sways, "Look at my beautisul scarf." Will you just get dressed please!!! This seems to be a recurring thought I have lately. I am wondering if I am raising nudists. It's not that hot! Put some close on for Pete's sake, and mine too for that fact.

The weekend in a few pictures...

The pictures below all crack me up. The first one with the Rocket Scientist smirking makes me smile, because I know I'm about to be heckled.

We were at friends house on Saturday night. They had a lovely garden growing like gangbusters. As soon as one child had a carrot from the garden, they all had to have a carrot. The Little Jamaican decided she had to eat hers in the pool.Aren't the goggles and the expression priceless? This kid was cracking me up Saturday night. OK, OK! I know most people would not find humor in this, but if I didn't, the Wild Child would be the death of me. The Rocket Scientist thinks that I should label these pictures something like "One too many days of vacation." She first started crying because her flip-flops fell off when we were driving. She thought that I should just whip right out of my seat while riding down the road and retrieve the wayward shoes. Then when we arrive at our destination she freaks out more since the door to her left closed while she was having the first tantrum. Apparently, that is the only door you may exit through if you are the Wild Child. The full-on melt down lasted only about 15 minutes.
See all better!
Well, all better for a minute! When the sea monkeys started to fight at the park we told them it was time to go. They like most kids said they weren't leaving. The Rocket Scientist and I decided to call their bluff. We decided to get in the car. When the First Child realizes this, she rounded them all up and pulled them to the car. They are crying, again, because they think we were going to leave them at the park. Like we could ever do that!? (eyes rolling)

Why does the Wild Child ask these things?

Just for some quick history... The Wild Child a while back asked her dad what you had to do to get a driver's license. He explained you have to take a class, take some tests, get some practice, get a permit, get some more practice, take another couple of tests. (Explaining that there were both driving and written test to be taken.) The Rocket Scientist hears the quiet after his explanation and realizes he forgot the most important part to that answer. "Oh, and you have to be at least 16." "WHAAAT?" comes the reply from the back seat. The Wild Child honestly thought, "Cool, I'm going to get my mom to get me into a driving class and then I can drive whenever I want." Oh, that girl scares me.

Yesterday when I was getting on the freeway by our house, the Wild Child asks, "What happens if you speed?" I am wondering if she thinks I'm speeding because I am accelerating to get on the freeway or is there something else going on in her head. I am also wondering how much is too much information for this particular child. I tell her you can get a ticket for speeding. "What happens if you get a ticket?" she asks in a "so what?" tone. I explain about fines and jail and how all that depends on how fast you are going, where you are (we were in a construction zone), etc. While I am trying to explain this to the five year old Wild Child, the Little Jamaican keeps trying to talk over the top of me. I finally have to tell her to wait her turn, that she can talk in a minute. When I finish explaining, I tell the Little Jamaican that it is now her turn. I finally hear what she kept trying to say. She's saying, "And you win, Momma, and you win?" I have to ask her "what?" one more time to try and figure out what she means. The First Child then interprets, "She thinks it's a race when you're speeding to win." Honest, I was only doing 55 in a 55 zone.

What would Jesus do?

Monday night is a source of much blogging material. Being that it is Family Night at our house with four small children, there is always something interesting. The youngest insists she wants to give the lesson. Being a three year old, she has some unique views. I am actually anxious to hear what she has to say. Her turn comes to give the lesson and she says, "Jesus doesn't want us to flush people down the toilet." She then began to list what was OK to "flush down the toilet." She had all her bases covered. My Littlest Jamaican, I couldn't agree more.