There is a difference...

Before leaving for our family reunions D and I were discussing the fact that we would like the house to be "clean" before we left so that we didn't have to come home to more of a mess than what we would be bringing with us. The day we were leaving D called me from work to ask how the cleaning was going. As I explained to him that I didn't really have the time to get things clean, but that the house was at least "straight", D asked me what the difference was. The difference, I have decided, is that I am a woman and he is a man. My expectations of "clean" can never be reduced to what his are, and he will never understand mine. This was made even more abundantly clearer yesterday when I was sick, miserable, and yes whiney. D won himself some brownie points (which, of course, he lost later by making a stupid comment) by staying home from work to take care of me, Fuss, and the house. Upon reviewing his work, our house is definitely in better condition than it was when he woke up yesterday morning, but I still wouldn't call it clean, and here is an example of why:

The kitchen has some dishes in the sink, the highchair tray unwashed on the counter, and the food storage products we purchased still sitting by the desk. Straight enough that if company came by we don't look like slobs, just that we actually live in our house, but clean...I don't think so. Clean would be if the sink were not only free from dishes, but scoured itself. The food storage would be down in the basement, but at this point that would require we first clean the basement to make room in the storage room for the storage that we need to store instead of the junk that is currently there. (So, I can't really blame him for that). The stove needs to be scrubbed with the cleanser that is specifically made for cleaning the stove to remove the burned on gunk. The top of the fridge needs to have all of the papers that D throws up there removed. The front of the fridge needs to have the fingerprints washed off of it, as does the pantry door. The windows definitely need to be washed, and the blinds dusted. Lucky for D, I dusted the shelves, the table, and the desk recently. I also mopped the floor, so he got off easy on that one too. And that is only 1 room, imagine what the differences were in the entire house.

To a woman doing laundry means: washing, drying, folding, hanging, and putting away. To a man doing laundry means: choosing which 2 from the list they would prefer to do and doing only those 2. To a woman cleaning the bathroom means: scrubbing tubs, toilets, floor, sink, and counters, refilling soap dishes, moving any counter-dwellers (nick knacks) and washing underneath them, as well as washing them, washing the mirror, and washing rugs. To a man cleaning the bathroom means: washing off the counter, possibly the sink, and closing the shower curtain.

Why the difference? I have no idea. I can tell you this though, I remember the same issues with my parents and cleaning, so I think that it is universal (either that or I married a man much like my father, which isn't all bad). For me, I have tried to explain the differences, but I don't think that it will ever "click" with D what it is that I am saying. Even after I "clean" a room instead of just straightening it, he can't tell the difference from the deep clean to the quick-and-acceptable-for-living-in straightening. I guess I will just take the help I do get. It was pretty easy to show him how much he does have to learn about how much I really do around here when I had to put the majority of the clean dishes from the dishwasher away. Ironically D only knows where dishes used in eating go...dishes used for cooking are in the kitchens at Taco Bell or McDonalds as far as he is concerned...so why am I always washing pans?

Don't question the question...

D complains that I ask too many questions about whatever it is he tells me, does, etc. I would disagree with him except that my mom used to tell me the same thing. I actually asked so many questions as a child that my mom once told me that she had a teacher that said there was no such thing as a stupid question, and she wanted that teacher to meet me so that my mom could prove him wrong. D thinks I ask questions because I doubt his ability or judgement. It isn't because I doubt his ability, his judgement sometimes, but never his ability. (It is a good thing he knows that I am joking with that--in case he ever reads it.) I am just a naturally curious person. I learned at a very young age that my brain processes things differently than what the "normal" person would process in a variety of different circumstances. As such, I ask questions to make sure that I am on the same page as everybody else...this is evidently annoying. Well, I do have something to say to that...too bad! I am still going to ask questions. It is impossible for me to stop now! I thought that maybe it was me and only me that had this problem until I was talking with D's aunt and uncle. It seems that they also have a daughter that finds entertainment and security in asking questions. For her parents, annoying. For me, relief that I am not the only one! Sometimes I wish my children would ask more questions. Perhaps, "Why shouldn't I put marbles in my mouth or my binki in the toilet?" would be a good place for us to start. If they were to ask I would give them very good reasons, and yet they don't and I find myself asking, "why would you do such a thing?" regularly.

What D and my mom don't understand is that I ask myself questions quite frequently too. The questions I ask myself are things like:
"Why did I come in the kitchen again?"
"Do I really need this Pepsi, or do I just want it?"
"What will happen if I just hit snooze...7 more times?"
"If I make this for dinner, how many complaints will I get?"
"When was the last time these pants were washed?"
"Did I brush my teeth today, or was that yesterday?"
"How many weeks have I been wearing the same contacts?"
"Is it worth the fight?"

I question my life all the time! What would life be like if we all just took things at face value and never tried to understand another's point of view? I think that I would be holed up in my house somewhere afraid to face the unknown...sad, but true. I don't do well with the unknown, which is why me and the future have a big problem. I have questions for the future everyday. If I ever got to talk to the future I would ask if I will ever be successful at getting skinny again, if I have more children, and if I do will I be living at home or in the asylum, will I win the lottery, and will D and I ever get to take a trip that consists of just the 2 of us? I think that these are totally fair questions, especially considering they will never be answered in the present.

The group of questions that I do ask D that I could see might be taken as annoying, are questions that begin with "What if..." Even I can recognize the "who cares" answer to that question, because things are what they are and you can't go back to change it. Still, as the second wife I think I am entitled to ask questions like, "What if D had met me before Lucy, would he have married me instead of her?" and "Where was I that year that this didn't happen?" or "What if I wouldn't have agreed to go out with D just because he already had 3 kids (which honestly scared me a little)?" Although things can't be changed, I admit that sometimes I question where my life would be "if." I don't really know that there is anything wrong with that.

I do have end by saying that I love my life, for the most part, most of the time. I wouldn't give up the challenge and the love that comes with being a parent, and even more with being a step-parent. Even if I question my ability at times. I wouldn't give up the home and the neighbors that I love. Although, I will give up the chance to clean the home I love...if anyone wants to volunteer. I wouldn't give up being a part of a huge family. Although, the attention from being an only child might be exciting to try out. I wouldn't give up the challenges that have made me who I am, even though I question if there could have been an easier way. D should also know that the one thing I would never question, is when I answered the most important question and said, "I do!"

Not for your mouth...

As a parent I have this horrible fear of my children putting things in their mouths that do not belong there. This is a really strange fear since I have a tendency to hold things in my mouth quite frequently. I am a pen chewer of the worst kind. It is not hard to recognize a writing tool that I claim as my own; they all could be identified with dental records if it ever actually came to that. I also hold needles (from popping blisters--I don't sew) in my teeth. I have been known to even carry groceries and Fuss' binki in my mouth when my hands are full, which they frequently are. Even so, I do not like my children to put things in their mouths...and now I know why. Olie, Skater, and Moo love to build things with their Magnetix sets, and they have plenty of sets to build things with. Since Fuss was born I have begged, pleaded, and even threatened the boys that if the Magnetix are stored low enough or left out for Fuss to get into that I would be throwing them away. I also told them that I would do this because they were small enough that if Fuss were to accidentally swallow one or more of these pieces it was possible that he could die. I thought that they understoood...I thought wrong. They did understand that they shouldn't leave them down. They didn't really understand why, at least Moo didn't.

On Saturday I was attending a baby shower when I received a call from D. It went something like this:

D: Moo swallowed a metal ball from the Magnetix set.

Me: What??

D: Moo swallowed a metal ball from the Magnetix set.

Me: He's seven!

D: I know...

Me: How did this happen?

D: He had it in his mouth and he swallowed it.

Me: [Thank you Captain Obvious!] Why in the world did Moo put a marble in his mouth?

D: I don't know, but what should I do?

Me: I don't know! I never imagined that it would be our 7 year old that I would be worrying about swallowing a marble! [So, I asked my aunt whose home I was at and is thankfully a nurse...if your child swallows a marble, as long as it is not magnetic, it should pass okay once it makes it to his stomach.]

Thinking there was nothing we could do since it was not stuck in his throat, we didn't end up taking Moo to the doctor...until the next morning. Sunday morning Moo woke up complaining of a stomach ache, which he does every Sunday morning in an attempt to get out of going to church, so we made him continue to get dressed and ready. He continued to complain. Finally, D told him that if his stomach was really hurting then we would take him to the doctor, but that he would probably have to get a shot. When Moo said, "Ok" we thought, "Maybe he really is sick." He really hates shots...who doesn't? While D braved church with Olie and Skater alone, I braved InstaCare with Fuss and a soon to be puking Moo alone (I definitely had it harder). Once the puking began I figured that he might actually be sick, because who would puke on purpose just to get out of going to church. Long story shorter, after 1 1/2 hours at the InstaCare, including a fun ride for

Moo on the x-ray table, and a fun tour of the facility guided by a running Fuss for me, we found out that the marble is currently in his intestines and the puking was most likely not related to the marble at all. The doctor suspected he may have the flu on top of the marble issue...what a lucky kid. We have no need to worry unless it doesn't pass within the next couple of days--and by "pass" you know what I mean. Luckily for us D took the boys back to Lucy tonight, so she gets to check "things" out to make sure that the marble comes out...fun times! This is one time I am not sorry that our kids have 2 sets of parents.

There is a sad, but funny twist to this as well...because of my warnings for Fuss' sake when Moo told D that he had swallowed the marble it was followed with, "Am I going to die?" I guess I need to explain the "why" a little better. Moo thought that all the attention he received at the doctor's office and at D's parents' house afterward was so great that D and I took it upon ourselves to explain to him how they would have to get the marble out if it didn't come out on its own to deter any future swallowing experiments. I did ask Moo how it was that he had swallowed a marble, and I have come to learn that he is as helpful as his dad. His reply: "I put it in my mouth, and when I swallowed it just went down." That explains everything!

That was out loud...

Angel and I were recently discussing the annoying habits of our children.  She mentioned that one of her children does not rinse the sink after brushing her teeth leaving a sink full of spit.  I replied that at least her children brush their teeth.  Whenever we have the older boys I remind them several times a day to brush their teeth, and inevitably whenever we go somewhere I will ask one of them if they actually did brush their teeth and the answer is usually, "I forgot."  What I would like to know is how did they forget?  Was it during the short walk from the kitchen to the bathroom after breakfast, or were they doing their bathroom thing and they didn't notice the brushes and toothpaste that they left out the night before?  Either way they "forget."  I think children choose to ignore their parents just to test out what the repercussions will be.  As a parent, I am not sure what the repercussions for anything should be...I make it up as I go along, which can be very complicated since the older boys don't actually "live" here, so I have to remember what I have done so that I can be consistent on their next visit--I need to keep a journal.  

My daily struggle is with Fuss though.  He hit the terrible twos at about 8 months.  My aunt recently referred to him as "high-maintenance."  To me that is putting it lightly--he is ultimate maintenance!  Fuss is going nonstop from the minute he wakes up to the minute he falls asleep.  It is a constant test of my patience and ability to stay a step ahead of him.  The most exciting part for me is that every day he learns a new trick--from climbing up the magazine rack to get on top of the toilet, or opening the toilet itself and throwing things in (I have fished out 4 binkis in the last 2 days), or dropping his toothbrush down the air conditioning vents he loves to lift out of the floor, I have to be on the go from Fuss up to Fuss down!  And yet I still don't get enough exercise in a day to lose the weight... The thing about Fuss is that he still listens to me...sometimes. He gives me a sarcastic little smile to make sure that I know that he knows exactly what he is doing, but he does listen.  The older boys choose to ignore--a trait I know is coming from Fuss before too long.  My sister once suggested that when Fuss bites me in anger (I know--terror child), that I bite him back. So, I did.  Fuss has never bitten me again.  Therefore, I decided to take the same approach with the older boys.  One day while the boys were here I called them for lunch and Olie was the only one that came.  I called for Skater and Moo two more times, nothing.  Olie even ran upstairs and told them loudly enough for me to hear that it was time for lunch.  Still nothing, not even a response or acknowledgment.  So, I made lunch for me, Olie, and Fuss.  About an hour later Moo and Skater came downstairs and asked me what we were having for lunch.  I told them it was over and that they had missed it since they ignored my calls to them.  "But we didn't hear you!" was the response and pleading, "What can we eat?"  I simply replied, "Dinner.  In a few hours."  I haven't been ignored since...at least whenever meals are involved, and that is progress! 

How big was that...

In my attempt to continue to lose the unmentionable number of pounds that I have gained, I have become very aware of a serious portion size problem...the makers of delicious food puts their nutritional information in unrealistic portion sizes.  Seriously, who breaks a delicious "Granny B's Pink Sugar Cookie" into 4 pieces and then shares it with 3 people? Not me and not anyone that I know of!  And I have never shared a small container of "Ben and Jerry's" ice cream with 3 other people--maybe eaten it in 3 different sittings, (ok 2, or 1 1/2) but never shared it with more than 1 person.  Why is it that you can eat 1 cup of corn or sliced carrots, but a serving of "Cookie Crisp" is only 3/4 of cup--that is like 10 crisps? Who was it that decided what a portion is, and why don't they package things as 1 portion size if it is intended to be eaten by only 1 person?  It is no wonder that I am struggling to lose weight when I walk into the kitchen and see 3/4 of a pink cookie staring back at me wanting to be eaten. How must that lonely piece of cookie feel?  It is never my intention to make my food feel bad about being left behind, so I eat it.  Seriously, have you ever tried to measure food out in it's suggested serving sizes?  It is not an easy fete I assure you.  

I am a sucker for dairy products.  The more cheese the better!  As a child I used to order foods at restaurants based on the dairy products included, such as if it had cheese and especially sour cream, there was a good chance I would order it over something more dairy free.  Now, I have to measure my cheese in 1 ounce increments.  I know that an ounce of cheese is approximately a 1 inch cube, but I am not in the habit of coming home from the store and cutting my cheese into 16 cubes for my convenience in measuring, because this does not constitute convenience in use. Have you ever tried to slice a 1 inch cube of cheese for sandwiches, or tried to grate 4 inch cubes individually for a recipe...what a pain!  I prefer to pretend to know what 1 ounce of cheese is based on how much I currently desire.  

The other problem that I face in losing weight is that my husband loves me.  It really is his fault that my self control can be nonexistent at times.  Whenever I tell him that I am taking a break from my diet, he says "ok." Which makes it very easy to do.  He tells me that he loves me no matter what and that if I want to lose weight it should be for myself and not for him (what a sweet and smart man).  The problem here is because he is on a double-edged sword, and he knows it.  Even if he does wish that I looked like the woman he married, he can't say it unless he wants to sleep on the couch (which really isn't that comfortable).  If he were to tell me that I really shouldn't give up the diet because I really needed to stay focused on it, I would be hurt and he knows it, so he doesn't.  However, this doesn't change the fact that I need him to say that to keep me focused...no wonder weight loss is a never ending war!  

I never stick to my diet when on vacation, and after 2 vacations this summer I also now know that I need a week to recover from the time off of the diet.  If I don't take this much need recovery week, then I feel deprived and depressed, and end up eating even more in my angst.  So, I allow myself that extra week of Pepsi and ice cream and focus on what I will have to do the following weeks to make up for it--at least I am planning ahead!  It is no wonder that I have been "plateau-ing" since the time of our first reunion.  At least my husband still loves me!

Now that's fun...

While traveling 4 hours in a caravan of 6 cars, my family discovered the best way to get other drivers to notice you--have 1 of the trucks tow a trailer that contains 10 4-wheelers, 1 motor-cycle, and 8 bicycles. Pretty much everyone stops to stare, count, and then pick up their jaws. When we were loading this alignment of travel accessories, KM asked, "What do you think people will think when they see us on the road?" I replied, "That we are a dealership." Gillette replied, "That we are rich." To these two incorrect answers, KM gave us the truth, "That we are going to have fun!" She is very smart. If you have never had the chance to visit Capital Reef or Escalante in Southern Utah, I highly suggest that you do (in case my opinion matters).

Our real adventures started on Thursday morning when my parents told us they had rented a 4-wheel drive vehicle and wanted to take an unpaved tour through the Cathedral Valley. I don't normally love drives where there is a chance that the car I am in can tumble off of the road and down the steep embankment that is right next to us, but D does...so, I went. Since I did go, I now know that I do not love rides where there is a chance that the car I am in can tumble off the road and down the steep embankment that is right next to us even more when it is raining. The clincher for me on this one was when we were on one of the above mentioned roads and had to manuever around a large rock that had rolled down the hillside. My grandpa (whose truck D, Fuss, and I were in) mentioned that he didn't think that my brother-in-law's larger truck would make it around the rock and it would have to be moved. My grandpa felf this way because he had "felt the shoulder of the road give way a bit as we were going around" the rock. This was not something that I needed to know, especially since we were coming up on more switchbacks and the rain storm was gaining on us! I let my grandpa know through my tears that it was ok to keep some information to himself. Although not my favorite adventure, the land is beautiful, and we were fortunate enough to mostly keep ahead of the massive storm that was moving in on us. Upon our return my dad was informed just how lucky we were since the area we had just been in is known for flash flooding. Again, something I did not need to know!

Friday was a safer day. We decided to take a hike on an unknown trail to an unknown destination. So, we spontaneously left from our cabin and started walking up the road--this is not what I would typically consider a hike, but it was unpaved and uphill so it was a hike. At the top of the hill we detoured from the road to a 4-wheeling path and continued on. While Fuss slept in the cabin with my parents babysitting, Agee had all 4 of her kids with her (ages 6, 5, 3, and 5 months) so she was not in the mood to take a very long and unplanned hike. The entire time we were walking we teased her that we were just going to the red rocks we could see in the distance, which we actually thought would be impossible to reach. After hiking for 1.5 miles, we reached the red rocks. Agee was the last one in and upon arrival announced her disapproval that we had kept our promise. On the way back to the cabin I was walking behind my nieces, Lou and Norman. As I got closer to them on an uphill part of the trail I announced that they were going to have to move out of the way since I had some momentum going. Lou looked puzzled and asked if that meant that I needed to go to the bathroom. If it was going to make her move or walk faster, then yes, that is what it means. Thankfully Agee survived and we arrived back at the cabin before Fuss awoke and minutes before another massive rain storm (during which we took a short 4-wheeler ride--we like the water I guess).

Saturday was by far our most adventurous (and rainless) day. KM researched and planned a hike that we felt would be enjoyable for all to go on. It was listed as "a very scenic day hike that follows Calf Creek. A trail guide brochure is provided at the trailhead with numbered markers along the route indicating points of interest....The trail is
well cut, with very little rise and fall although sandy in a few areas. The trail end is at the beautiful Lower Calf Creek waterfall, 126 feet high, falling into a lovely pond." This description sounds amazing and so misleading! I don't know who the lady that wrote it was, but "very little rise and fall?" She must live in the freaking Alps, possibly even on Mt. Kilimanjaro. Maybe I am just a wuss, or maybe she wasn't packing a 25 pound 1 year old on the 6 mile hike (3 each way--and yes, me in all my wussiness packed Fuss in the hiking backpack 1 way...mostly). We started the hike as a group of 47 and ended as smaller groups of 8 to 1. It was beautiful, but when you are hauling 20 children ages 8 and younger up a hillside (and I do mean hauling because if you were young would you walk 6 miles voluntarily?) there is no time to stop and enjoy the scenery...if you do, you may lose one off the narrow path and down the slippery slopes. Luckily we only had 1 fall, my aunt (the only aunt to brave the hike) slipped while trying to prove her quick and youthful descent methods. Through the exercise of this hike, I earned enough weight watchers points for a pink cookie, which is like 12 continuous hours of exercise. I do have to say though, that at the end of this all-day hike, there is a beautiful waterfall with a freezing (as in bucket of glacier ice) cold pond to refresh you and wash the sweat away. However, if you do make it to Calf Creek, make sure that you bring an extra set of shorts to hike the 3 lovely miles back, or you will find yourself regretting it for the next several days.

The week ended with my immediate family 4-wheeling to Agee's beloved red rocks, babies and all--and yes, we are very cautious. It was pointed out though that while D and I were the only adults wearing helmets on this short adventure, our child was the only one without a helmet that was made for 4-wheeling (he did have a helmet on--it was just bike helmet though). I am such a good parent! I also had the opportunity to learn about the negotiation skills of my 6-year-old nephew, Booga. During the week sometime Fuss had lost the binki, which is a horrible loss for everyone around. As Fuss was screaming and I was helping make dinner, I offered $1 to anyone who could find Fuss' binki. Booga found it shortly after and I promised him $1 as soon as I could get to it. Sunday came and I still hadn't given Booga his dollar, so D took $1 in quarters out of my stash of stuff in our room, and gave it to him. Afterwards, Booga came over to me and asked for his dollar. I told him that he had gotten a dollar already. He told me (in his gruff little voice that sounds like he is on the verge of losing it), "No, you promised me a dollar. You didn't give me a dollar, D did. So, you still owe me a dollar." How do you argue with that, especially when he gave his sister half of it since she saw the binki at the same time he did; he just got to it first.

Four days, 56 people (and that's not even all of us), lots of great food, 180,000,000 rain drops, including a delicious barbeque in the rain, 15 dutch ovens (in 1 meal), and KM was right---A LOT of fun! And the best part of all...we still like each other! When I told my grandma (who has had a stroke and doesn't talk too much) at dinner one night, that she had started all of this chaos...she shook her head, then put her head in her hand and said, "I know, I know." Hey, you have to blame someone...

A little courtesy, please...

I remember the day when drivers were polite to one another...it wasn't that long ago, I was a kid...so maybe it was a while ago...but I do remember sitting in the car while my dad drove us to the places that we went as a family, which was rarely far from home. Whenever he needed to merge or change lanes, he would turn on his blinker and people would allow him to do what he needed to get where he needed to go. After he had changed lanes or merged he would raise his hand in courtesy as a "thank you" to the kind person who had let him in. The opposite was true as well. If my dad noticed a driver that needed to move into the lane in front of him, he allowed it to happen. When the other driver raised their hand in thanks my dad waved back...a polite unspoken conversation. Today, that is so not the case. If I turn on my blinker or try to merge into another lane, drivers speed up, like I am butting in line if I get in front of them. If I do happen to move over when needed, I raise my hand in thanks, usually 3 or 4 times, but I rarely get a response. When I kindly and patiently let another car move in front of me, I find myself raising my hand to them and saying, "you're welcome" even though it is rare to get a thank you from another driver. People are in such a hurry, and for what? Where do you have to be so quickly? In today's world there really is no reason to rush. Heaven forbid you have to call someone on your cell phone in your car to let whomever you are meeting know if you will be a little late. Is allowing someone to move in front of you really going to be the thing that makes you late anyway? If you are running that late, you should have left earlier...your bad! D is one of those that does not like people to change lanes in front of him. I usually try to calm him down by saying something to the effect of, "His 5 seconds are probably more important than yours." This doesn't usually work...

The one thing that really does bother me is when lanes are merging down to eliminate a lane or two, and people act selfishly about getting to the front, like no one else is sitting at a dead stop waiting for those that can't wait themselves. I do think that it is very rude to drive all the way to the front of the line where the lanes are actually eliminated and then try to cut over. I believe these are the people that should not be allowed to drive during peak times I actually think that you should have to obtain a special license to be allowed to drive during rush hour times. This could alleviate some serious headaches for impatient drivers, as this is when everyone else thinks that everyone else that is on the road with them is an idiot. If you had to have a special license declaring that you were not an idiot, then everyone would have no one to blame but their own impatience.

D is also one of those that thinks that the majority of drivers are "idiots." He always blames stupidity of drivers on the location that we are in, for example he will say, "stupid (insert city or county name here) drivers!" I love talking to my husband, except for while he is driving. I actually pointed out to him the other day that I do, in fact, think that there is a conspiracy between all the people in our county against him and his drive to and from work. I think that everyone that drives like an "idiot" sits in their homes or offices and waits until that exact moment that D is heading for the road himself, and then they leave and drive the same path he is going to take, just to tick him off! He has sooo many stalkers, because they actually show up almost everywhere we go. And when they aren't there, he points it out to me, and I get so excited that we somehow slipped past them and our ride will be pleasant, and free of fear, and me holding on to the "oh, crap" handles for dear life.

Next time you are able to move into another lane because of the courtesy of someone else, if you look in your rearview mirror and seeing them waving at you, it might just be me...

Children teach you so much...

There are a few things that I have learned since becoming a mother that I think will always be true no matter how old my children are. However, I became a mother upon saying "I do" so, some may of these tidbits could also have come from marriage...in my life the line is blurry.

1. No matter what you ask for, you will get the opposite. For the first 2 years that we have been in our house, I have begged for the toilet paper to be put on the roll (don't we all wish for this?). It was never, ever put on the roll...we were always chasing it around the floor, fishing it out of the sink or (heaven forbid) the toilet, and eventually I would be the one to put the nearly gone toilet paper in its place. I hoped for this task to be accomplished every day, that is until Fuss realized that pulling on the roll of toilet paper was a great way to make a mess! He is delighted by the way it flies through the air on to the ground, where he can tear it into little, tiny, annoying pieces. Now, I have asked everyone to please NOT put the toilet paper on the roll and to keep it out of Fuss' reach. So, now everytime I go into the bathroom, I have to take the toilet paper off the roll and set it on the counter...where they used to leave it.

2. Children imitate their parents...even the things you wished they didn't notice. Since trying to lose the extra weight that I so easily added, I have been weighing myself weekly. The other day while I was in the shower, Fuss came trapsing through the bathroom and straight into my closet (where he normally plays with my shoes). A few seconds later he comes waltzing back out with the scale in his hand, and continued out of the bathroom into my bedroom. I heard him place the scale on the floor, and a couple of seconds later I heard him whimper and cry a little. Then he proceeded back to the closet with scale in hand...and I totally understand, if I had nearly quadrupled my weight in 14 months I would be pretty upset too!

3. Children understand more than you think they do, but they try to get away with pretending that they don't. We have a mini-refrigerator that we purchased when we lived with D's parents (while our house was being built). It has been sitting in our basement since we moved in just over 2 years ago. Olie has begged for us to let him put it in his room, and finally I have given in. He was so excited that when Nana took them to the dollar store (their favorite place) Olie purchased a box of baking soda for the little fridge as his treat. We did, however, tell him that we were going to set some guidelines. Since he wants to be treated more like an adult, I had him write up some rules that he thought were fair for us to go over. After much deliberation, he told D and I that he had decided that it would be fair if he were to pay for all items that were in the fridge in his room. He would only purchase healthy snacks, a small amount of chocolate, and non-caffinated drinks or water. He explained that since he was paying for them, if his brothers wanted a soda out of his fridge then he would make them buy one from him (seemed fair). Then he broke it down for us...since a 12 pack of soda is around $5, and there are 3 of them, each could have 4 cans of soda from each pack that was bought. So, Olie decided that he would charge his brothers $.75 for a can of soda (from the fridge he was borrowing from us)...that would cover the cost of the soda. He told us this plan so innocently that it almost made us think that it hadn't been thought through that he would be making $6 off of his brothers so that all of his sodas were free for him, plus he earned himself a little extra. As I asked him if he had purchased a business license for his little money-making-scheme, he grinned sheepishly...he knew exactly what he was doing. So, when he asked for a glass of milk, I told him "$1 please."

Make it a good one...

I have come to believe that lying is an innate trait that all children must try out at some point or another.  Some children (scarily) are very good at it, while others...not so much.  Lying is one of the biggest things that I cannot tolerate, I rarely find there to be a good reason to lie.  However, on a recent job application I was asked the question, "Is it ever okay to lie?"  I honestly didn't know how to answer this.  If I were to say no, that would be a lie, because I do think that at times you really have no option but to tell a small lie to protect someone else.  There are also the times that you just neglect to tell the whole story, which my mom taught me is lying.  There are also the times when you just omit the entire story and pretend you have no idea what is going on, also lying according to my mom (and that is who told me what lying was).  However, if I were to answer this question with a yes, without having a spot for an explanation, well then that is just a stupid move if I expect to get a job from them... "Is it okay to lie?"  "Yes, but at least I am being honest about it"? Give me a break!   This really is beside the point though...because as a parent, I maintain that lying is never okay, but sometimes funny.

Moo is one of the very worst of liars, and as one of his parents it is very hard for me to keep a straight face when confronting him with his lies!  I am hoping this is just a phase, and that he will realize there is no point to lying and get over it, but in the meantime I am going to enjoy it (not that I am pleased that our child lies...but come on we need some entertainment).  Yesterday I had an early morning meeting which the boys accompanied me to.  Moo is much like his dad in that he hates waking up in the morning...it is a long, drawn out, and whiney time.  Since Moo refused to wake up in time to get dressed, he went to the meeting in his pajamas, which did not match.  During the entire meeting, and the 2 minute car ride home, he complained and refused to be pleasantly social with his brothers or the other kids that were forced into this torture.  So, as soon as we arrived home I told Moo that he needed to go take a nap and get over his attitude.  He acted like he was going downstairs to his room, but then ran up stairs to the family room when I turned my back (I heard him, but hoped he would just fall asleep on the couch or something so, I let him go).  About an hour later he came down to my office to ask me something.  I asked him if he had taken a nap like I had told him to.  He responded, "Yes."  Knowing that he hadn't, I asked, "How long of a nap did you take?"  He told me, "I slept until 2 o'clock." I looked at the clock on my computer...12:15.  When I pointed out to him that it wasn't even 2:00 yet, I repeated my question about whether he had taken a nap.  He lowered his head and under his breath sighed, "No."  I told him that lying wasn't acceptable, and that he wouldn't have been in trouble for not taking a nap if he was pleasant to be around, but he needed to go to time out for lying.  After 7 minutes (because he is 7 years old...I remember the rules of time out) I went to the corner that is "time out" at our house, to discuss, forgive, and try again, like a good mom would do.  Hoping to effect a change in behavior I asked Moo if he knew why he was in time out.  He got this really puzzled look on his face and replied, "Because you told me to come here."  So, I asked, "Why did I tell you to come to time out?"  He threw his hands in the air like he could not believe we were having this conversation and said, "Don't you remember when I lied to you?"  The child thinks I'm crazy...

Today, I was getting ready to leave for another errand when Skater rushed into my room to tell me that Moo was "swinging a Nintendo DS charger, and it was hitting the walls and the pantry door."  I walked out to find Moo sitting on the stairs, and I asked him if what Skater had said was true.  The reply, "Skater always lies about me...he is lying!"  Skater was not going to be the bad one, so he immediately protested, "No Moo, you were swinging a DS charger, and you hit the walls.  I saw you!"  This is the clincher that tells me Moo doesn't understand the purpose of a lie, "No, it was a game boy charger, but I didn't do it!"   Really? You didn't? Then why correct the type of charger?  I just pray that he gets over this before he gets good at it!

Did you think about that first...

As we were preparing for a group 4-wheeler ride at our family reunion, one of D's aunts suggested that we all wear long pants and t-shirts to protect ourselves from the sun and the dust. Another of the aunts, Boo, realized that she hadn't prepared for such an adventure while packing, and had to opt to wear the shorts and tank top that she had brought. As we gathered around to pair up riders, Boo's husband appeared from the cabin with one of his short-sleeved shirts for his wife to wear. As he handed her the shirt, we all remarked how sweet it was that he made this most generous and selfless offer without even being prompted. He responded that he wanted this moment recorded (here you go!). I have heard the request for recording kind gestures from husbands (or just men) frequently. If you ask a man he would probably tell you it is because we as women never remember the selfless acts that they do. I am here to disagree. It is not because we don't remember. It is because every time they make such a prince-like gesture, it is canceled out by the thoughtless comments or things that they do...and I do mean thoughtless. I do not think, by any means, that men set out to say or do stupid (and that really is the best way to put it) things to their wives, girlfriends, or other women in general. I think that they don't think about it and that is what gets them in trouble. For example.....

#1. It has probably been 10 years, at least, since a family conversation where we were discussing "original weights." (I know what you are thinking, why didn't we just call it our birth weight, but for some reason I don't think that the original "original weight" referred to birth weight...it was more like a desired previous weight.) Anyhow, I made the comment that I would like to be about 20 times my original weight (at 6 lbs 6 oz at birth, this would put me around 130ish pounds as an adult). My dad quickly countered my idea by telling me that was impossible since I was already about "1000 times" my original weight. Appalled I declared that I was by no means over 6000 pounds! He quickly shook his head and apologized by saying, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean 1000, I meant 100 times." Really? Because telling your daughter she is heavier than 600 pounds is better than 6000 pounds? Ten times would have been just as (or more) unbelievable, but much better choice of apologetic correction...

#2. My dear, close friend, Angel, recently received a promotion at work. This promotion now allows her to work out of her home. Her physical activity at work has been greatly reduced, and she has more of a "desk job" then she previously had. Her husband (who is also a dear friend to us) unthinkingly expressed his concern by telling her that he would buy her an office chair that was perfectly fit to her derriere in it's current proportions. The purpose for this was that it would prevent her from allowing her rear end to get larger. What sane person can tell me that this comment was thought through before being spoken by a loving husband?

#3. D and I were to attend a dinner party hosted by his employer. Since I had not met most of the people that he works with, nor had I met any of their spouses, I was concerned about making a good impression. I was pregnant with Fuss at the time, and was very sensitive about how quickly I was gaining weight. As a means for reassurance, not really needing a real answer, I asked D, "Am I going to be the fattest and ugliest wife there?" Now, I know that there are a million correct answers to this question, even if they are untrue answers. Something like, "Of course not! To me you are beautiful and you always will be." Or "I don't even pay attention to other women, but I do know that you are the most beautiful to me." Something sweet and reassuring...that is all I was asking for. So, my husband's response..."I don't know. I haven't seen all the other wives." Now tell me that was thought through first...

#4. D and I were shopping at Babies 'R Us with our darling, little, binki-addicted Fuss, when D suggested that he go purchase a new binki since Fuss has a habit of throwing and losing them. Of course I agreed with this unexpected forethought from my husband, especially because Fuss likes a particular brand and style of binki, which is found at BRU. The binki Fuss likes is round and blue, and not hard to identify amidst the selection of binki options in a store. D left my side to go find and purchase the binki while I continued to shop. I, of course, assumed that D would be purchasing the brand and style that Fuss used. Upon his return to the shopping center D had Fuss still sitting in the cart with his new binki in his mouth...much to my dismay. D had gotten the brand right, but the style was nothing like the other 15 identical binkies that we had purchased over the past several months. The binki that D had purchased was green, softer, and so wide it had handle bars. Had D thought to consult me before purchasing the new gigantor binki that my son is not allowed to use in public, or even before opening it and allowing Fuss to put it in his mouth, this would have been a great achievement for the record...had he only thought about it first.