Cracking Up

Tonight at dinner I lost it. I started cracking up. And I mean that in the I-started-laughing-and-couldn't-stop kind of way. Not in the way that might mean I was starting to crack. Although that's probably the reason behind my laughter-driven tears.

It all started with a long afternoon chasing around a 2 year old. And then we hit the unhappy hour. These days I have resorted to turning on the TV at 5pm so I can get some dinner cooked without 30 pounds stuck to my legs insisting on being picked up. But today I was feeling like I had already used the doctor recommended allowed time of 2 hours of "screen time" per day. In fact most days that allotment seems to go by the wayside before nap time. Oops. Perhaps I shouldn't admit that to the public. But hey, look at you. You're sitting there glued to the screen right now. So you can't throw stones from inside your glass monitor.

But they were all playing pretty well together at about 5pm tonight, so I just made a quiet move over to the kitchen and got things going. Now is when the fun starts. About every 3 minutes I am either pulling one of my kids off of their sibling or crawling on the floor picking up pieces of something that was thrown through the air or knocked over. At the very least I'm barking out orders to "leave her alone!" or "stop throwing things!", or the classic "STOP YELLING!".

This continues for the better part of an hour while I cook some ground beef and cut up some vegetables. Now in most homes across the country this culinary skill may take only 10 minutes. But in my home, with no "screen time", it can take up to an hour, which is what happened tonight.

Finally my husband gets home, which means the relief shift has begun. I finish what I need to for dinner and get everyone's food on the table. Then we all sit down for dinner.

Wait. That's an overstatement. There's not a whole lot of sitting going on. At least not for my husband or me.

First I forgot the napkins, so I was up again to get those. Then one of the girls needed more milk, so I was up again for that. Then someone dropped a fork, so my husband went to get a new one. Then my son finished his peaches, so my husband went to get some more. Then my younger daughter wants more peaches too. But she doesn't like "those kind" of peaches, can she have the other kind? And during this time my husband and I have barely touched our food, and yet my oldest claims "I'm done - can I be excused?".

This happens a lot at dinner time. She wolfs it all down and then wants to get up again. She's not the type to sit still for long, so I can't blame her. But we always make her wait until someone else is finished as well before she can get up. I'm not sure why, other than to make her pay for her carefree life and the envy she causes us at her ability to eat food while it's still hot.

Then my younger daughter decides her taco won't stay together so she won't eat it. My husband gets up to get a toothpick to solve the problem. About one minute later she declares that she doesn't like what she's eating and asks for a plain tortilla. As my husband is up getting a tortilla, my oldest decides she wants one too, but can we put butter on it and heat it up for her? Sure, WHY NOT? We were just standing around the kitchen wondering what else can we do around here besides sitting down to eat the rest of our dinner?

Now they are all armed with tortillas, plus the bag is now in the middle of the table, with the milk and an extra fork. Frankly, they don't make lazy susans big enough for all the crap that needs to be within reach of us while we sit at the dinner table.

As I approach my chair one last time I just start laughing. I think I had a moment where I saw this all through my husband's eyes, and I had to laugh. He gets home and every single day he gets the "hero's welcome". The kids run to greet him and give him smiles and hugs. And that's about where the fun ends for a while.

Because we go right into this song and dance we call dinner time. Suddenly I saw the past 30 minutes rush through my head all at once, like some crazy-ass dance you might see if there were ever a musical about whacked out exhausted parents of three small children.

Sit down...stand up...open cupboard...sit down..."eat your dinner"...bend over...pick up fork...stand up...open drawer...sit down..."eat your veggies"...stand up...open fridge...sit down..."don't throw your food"...bend over...pick up food...stand up...open pantry...sit down...standupsitdownstandupsitdown...TA DA!

And it just cracked me up. I was laughing so hard tears were streaming. My kids were asking me what's wrong and I couldn't answer. My husband just said "I think mommy's losing it." Which is a bit true really. Why else would I be laughing so hard at the very thing that drives us bonkers?

Because the alternative was to cry out of sadness and exhaustion I guess.

And I choose laughter.

My glass is always half full.

At least until one of the kids finishes it and asks for more.

It's a bird! It's a plane!

Lately the name of the game with my son is DISTRACTION.  

It's really a great resolution to so many problems.

If he starts to cry about something (other than being hurt, although it still works then too).  If he is asking for a cookie non-stop and won't take "no" for an answer.  If he won't eat what's in front of him.  If he won't stop yelling in the car.

All of these common household problems have the same solution.  DISTRACTION.  

Really I should call it "Distraction Jeopardy" because things have to be posed in the form of a question.  And it is indeed a little game.  First it's his turn; he cries.  Then it's my turn; I say "where's the sky?" or "where's your nose?" or "do you see that doggy?".  Doesn't really matter what the question is about most times, but in extreme cases it has to be something interesting and not just a body part.  And it doesn't really matter where we are or if the question is relevant.  I can ask him "where's the moon?" when we are in the middle of the grocery store and he'll stop what he's doing and look around for it.  Those 22 month olds are gullible like that.

Here's an example.

This morning my husband was trying to get our son to eat breakfast.  As hungry as he always is in the morning, for whatever reason, he tends to be a pain in the arse about actually eating the food he is asking for.  Either he wants to feed himself, or it's not the right spoon ("Elmo poon!"), or he wants more cereal in the bowl before he'll take a bite.  You name it, he has an opinion about it.  I mean, it's just Rice Crispies for pete's sake, what's all the fuss about?

So this morning I enter the kitchen and decide that it's time for a round of Distraction Jeopardy.  I pick him up and take him over to the window in the dining room to look outside.  I bring the bowl of cereal with me so that I'm at the ready when he gets distracted.   

I always figure a window is a safe bet since there's so much to look at outside.  "What do you see outside?" I ask.  Sure enough, there's a new tulip in the ground that we admire.  But that gets boring fast.  "Do you see any birdies?" I ask, figuring it's a fat chance at 7 in the morning, but worth a shot.  

Then we look around and hit the mother lode.  Two doves are sitting on the fence right outside the window.  It's like winning the Double Jeopardy bonus question.

To know just how much of a mother lode this is, you have to know that we play this game a lot, a bit too much in fact, in the car.  If ever there is a fuss, all I have to do is say "Do you see any birdies out your window?" and he immediately stops what he's doing and looks for birds.  The same can be done for airplanes.  Since we live under the arriving flight pattern for SFO and about 2 miles away from a small local airport, we are always spotting planes in the air.  Mommy's little helpers fill the sky with all kinds of distractions around our house.  I do have to hear the words "boidies!" and "aowpane!" about a hundred times a day as he points them out while being shuttled around to and from his sisters' various activities.  But it's worth it if it keeps him happy.

So back to this morning.  As his eyes open so wide I think they might pop out of his head, his mouth opens too.  And in enters the first bite of cereal.  He tries to actually touch the birds through the window and continues to be so fascinated that I can then get a few more bites in while he watches them.  Then we are home free.  

Once he gets a taste of the food he realizes just how hungry he is and we can return to the kitchen where he can feed himself the rest of his breakfast, no matter which spoon he's using or how full the bowl is.

Voila!  Problem solved.

Now if only we didn't have to play 25 rounds of this game throughout the day.  

It can be a bit distracting.

Laughter Is The Best Medicine

Blog? What blog?

Okay, my sincere apologies for being a slacker blogess lately. I have been busy giving birth to a new baby - and no, not a real one. More about that later. Suffice it to say, I may have to change my bio on this blog to say that I'm not only a stay-at-home mom, but I'm also a work-at-home mom. And an insane mom. Because I needed more to do these days.

So back to my funny story of the day. Actually it was yesterday. After school my oldest always comes home and wants a snack. It's like living in a commercial. So she pulls out what's left of her snack from school and starts munching away on Cheez-Its. When she polishes those off she goes for a chocolate cookie.

Since we baked them last week, she's been having one every day when she gets home from school. I figure it's comfort food to go with the comfort zone that she has just re-entered.

My younger daughter then tells her that she should eat some fruit first before she has that cookie. I have good laugh and take full advantage of this sage advice from my younger little lady. I hand my oldest a can of diced peaches and tell her to finish that off first, then she can have the cookie.

In a few seconds my request is taken care of and she starts in on the cookie. While she's eating she browses the pantry for a second or two, turns around, looks at me, still with cookie in-hand, and asks if she can finish her cookie upstairs in her room.

Whaaat? Where did that question come from? And why is she asking me and not just going right on up there? Maybe because I already warned them No Chocolate Crumbs All Over The House.

Then I catch a glimpse of a bag of fruit chews in her other hand, casually hanging very close to being behind her leg, but not quite. And her very hopeful wide open eyes and smile are just casually awaiting my answer.

Then the laughter hits full on. These girls are cracking me up. My goody-two-shoes daughter is trying to be sneaky, but she's basically asking permission first. She wants to eat those fruit chews (in my book they qualify as a sugary snack) and she doesn't want to ask permission since she thinks the answer may be "no" after the cookie. So she instead asks if she can eat up in her room where she will have just accidentally brought that other sugary snack item with her and, gee whiz, she'll have to eat it.

I tell her that she doesn't need to sneak things and that if she just asked, the answer would probably be "yes". Then I tell her no cookies up in her room, she has to stay in the kitchen. She still doesn't want to acknowledge that she was trying to be sneaky, so she goes back to the pantry and this time goes in it, and closes the door behind her.

I reiterate my comment, between my chuckles, about just asking permission for things and not trying to sneak them. Her muffled voice comes through the door and says she just wants to eat her cookie in the pantry, that's all.

Yeah, right.

Next she comes out, cookie crumbs on her face, and with a big expecting smile and those same wide open eyes, she looks at me and asks "Can I go upstairs now?"

Now she could have just come out of there and tore up to her room, shouting a "see ya" along the way. But she didn't. She asked permission. I see a trend here.

So I check her hands without trying to look too suspicious. Nope, they're empty.

"Sure," I say, "go ahead up."

At which point she starts to run, gets about three steps into her sprint and we hear the crinkling noise of the fruit chews bag slipping down her pants.

Here come my giggles again. This time her sister is in on it too. "She has the bag of fruit chewies!" the little rascal exclaims.

"Yup, she sure does," I say, still laughing. I walk over and give my wanna-be sneak a big hug and just laugh with her. She starts laughing too and gives me back a wonderful hug around the middle.

"Anything you want to ask?" I say.

"Can I have them?" she asks.

"Yes, you can have them. But next time, just ask first!! The answer is almost always yes."

I guess I could have been pretty upset with her for trying to be sneaky. And I could read a lot of food issues into it too. But I don't. I know my kids, and there are no food issues. And they also aren't very good at sneaking things. Or lying. Thank goodness.

So I'm glad I got a good laugh out of it instead.

Brain Power...Or Lack Thereof

It only took me a little over a year to re-learn the fact that babies like to be entertained.

Here I was thinking I was covering all the bases by feeding him, keeping him warm and safe, and giving him lots of love. And along comes my son, beating us over the head with this lesson. With a plastic spoon.

We were eating lunch at the café at our athletic club the other day. My husband met us there after his work-out. Shortly after placing our son in the high chair, it becomes clear he has no interest in eating lunch. No matter what we put in front of him he tries to climb and claw his way out, aiming straight for daddy.

His preference for my husband has become more and more clear lately, but I’m still keeping a stiff upper lip. I know the love is in there; he just prefers the parent that will pick him up all the time. He smells weakness.

Okay, maybe my upper lip is starting to quiver a little.

We are trying our best to appease our son and keep him in the high chair, mostly because my husband doesn’t want to muss up his work shirt. After his work-out, he showered and put back on his work clothes. BIG mistake. Eat lunch with baby first, THEN put on clean clothes and go back to work.

Eventually we take him out of the high chair and my husband tries keeping him on his lap while eating a burrito. Wet slobber marks are finding their way to his shirt and the rice and beans aren’t far behind. Now daddy is running out of patience.

We try giving the baby more grilled cheese sandwich, thinking he must be hungry. No luck. Then I try holding him, but again, he ain’t happy.

Finally my husband declares “I gotta run.” Granted it was going to be a short lunch anyway, but our son’s neediness just shortened the visit further. Now I’m losing the only adult company I’ll have all day. Bummer.

I pick my son up off daddy’s lap and we say good-bye. He’s hollering in my arms and I think ‘I should just walk him around a little’. Right in that moment I realize that I should walk him over to the place with the plastic spoons and forks.

I grab a couple of spoons and hand them over. My son puts one in each hand and a huge smile spreads across his face.

He bangs them on the table, mouths them, and practically hugs them and gives them each a pet name. He walks around the café, still with one in each hand, showing them off to all the other lunch-eating folks.

These two spoons then make their way to Target with us, gripped firmly in two happy hands, banging around the stroller.

Then they continue their joy ride all the way back home, where my son proceeds to show them around the house.

He even introduces them to his favorite canine treat, trying to use one of the spoons to scoop up some dog food.

Clever little dog-food-loving boy.

Clearly more clever than mommy and daddy.

Duh. Plastic spoons.

These were a major part of our repertoire with child #1. That and empty water bottles. And of course actual toys.

But since we haven’t really been out to an eating establishment much since we became a party of five, this nugget of knowledge slipped right out the back door of my brain while I was answering the front door with reading lessons and time-outs for the girls.

I’m beginning to see that with each child my husband’s and my brains further morph into post-parenting pulp. We seem to get overly absorbed by the children that can actually hold conversations and forget about the baby.

Although, can you call it a conversation when the main topic is either Hannah Montana or a story with a hundred utterances of the word “poopy” sprinkled with a healthy dose of giggles? Regardless, those children that can actually say “MOM, DAD, LOOK AT ME!” have sapped so much of our attention and brain power that we have to resort to just our survival instincts with the baby.

Of course, just when we finally re-learn all our lessons and get it in gear with him, he’ll be on to the next stage, with or without us. Mostly without us.

I guess we can only hope that we will succeed in steering our children through this maze of life, educating and empowering them to explore and discern their own path of discovery when they leave our shelter.

Which means that by the time our son goes to off to college, we will have become mush-brained mutants in E-Z chair loungers fighting over the remote.

All Things Orange

I might venture to say that you would never notice how many orange foods there are until you realize that it constitutes roughly 90% of what your son eats.

My one year old has a clear preference for the auburn edibles.

It started with sweet potatoes, squash and carrots. Then came along canteloupe, peaches and apricots. Then cheddar cheese. And of course, oranges (that one seems a bit obvious, wouldn't you say?).

And that's just the naturals. Now he is discovering the more upscale items that fall into the orange color spectrum. This category includes such delectables as gold fish crackers, cheese puffs, and macaroni and cheese.

All of those are definitely his favorites. Not to mention the almost-orange-sort-of-brown colored chicken nuggets.

And if you squint, I could also include spaghetti. After all, it does leave behind quite an orange colored face when he's done.

Mmm, mmm, good.

I'm getting a bit concerned that my child will turn into an oompa-loompa.