1. Sending a boy outside to eat with the dog when they repeatedly burp at the dinner table does not cure belching. It encourages it.
2. All bodily functions are hysterical.
3. You can clip a Lightsaber to a diaper. Actually, you can clip FOUR Lightsabers to a diaper.
4. A boys' ability to hear is directionaly proportional to what they are being told. But maybe that's not just a "boy" thing....
5. Trucks, I knew about... airplanes, guns, superheros, forts, tanks, guns, spit, knives, farts... I had NO idea about.
6. When told to sit still, a boy will actually vibrate.
7. If you want a toilet flushed, you'll have to flush it yourself.
8. "Vomit face toe curd earwax breath" is a compliment.
9. There are 742 ways to sit on a couch.
And the most surprising thing I've found about raising boys, is that
10. I prefer camping trips and shoot em up movies to exotic vacations and chick flicks and a bouquet of dandelions clutched in a dirty fist is more precious than a dozen long stemmed roses.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Products Mommies REALLY Want
Diapers
I recognize that in the world of excrement control, diapers have come a long way from the dripping cotton cloths and pins of yore. Today’s diapers are trim, fit, have gathered legs and boast of their flexibility and capability to move with your growing child.
That’s all good and well, but let’s think about what us mommies REALLY want. Is it the ability for our crawling babies to be able to move more freely and unencumbered towards our collection of Waterford Crystal? Or would we rather the diaper be able to handle the thrice soiled nighttime waste without providing ‘finger-painting’ entertainment the next morning?
Don’t get me wrong, I do care about the comfort of my child, but if I have to chose between a diaper that will handle the fact that my 2 year old climbed on the counter and ate a 3lbs Costco container of grapes, or one that will ‘move and flex with my toddler’, then I’d rather have the diaper that keeps my son stranded on his back like a displaced turtle as opposed to running for my carpet cleaner that can handle ‘pet stains’.
How many companies out there are brave enough to market what we really want but are too embarrassed to admit it?
“NEW Industrial Strength Diapers! Made with 47 layers of thick cotton batting, three layers of extra tight elastic bands and a stay-wet inner layer so your baby feels soggy and uncomfortable each time they go to speed up the process of potty training!”
Now that is a product us mommies could REALLY use.
I recognize that in the world of excrement control, diapers have come a long way from the dripping cotton cloths and pins of yore. Today’s diapers are trim, fit, have gathered legs and boast of their flexibility and capability to move with your growing child.
That’s all good and well, but let’s think about what us mommies REALLY want. Is it the ability for our crawling babies to be able to move more freely and unencumbered towards our collection of Waterford Crystal? Or would we rather the diaper be able to handle the thrice soiled nighttime waste without providing ‘finger-painting’ entertainment the next morning?
Don’t get me wrong, I do care about the comfort of my child, but if I have to chose between a diaper that will handle the fact that my 2 year old climbed on the counter and ate a 3lbs Costco container of grapes, or one that will ‘move and flex with my toddler’, then I’d rather have the diaper that keeps my son stranded on his back like a displaced turtle as opposed to running for my carpet cleaner that can handle ‘pet stains’.
How many companies out there are brave enough to market what we really want but are too embarrassed to admit it?
“NEW Industrial Strength Diapers! Made with 47 layers of thick cotton batting, three layers of extra tight elastic bands and a stay-wet inner layer so your baby feels soggy and uncomfortable each time they go to speed up the process of potty training!”
Now that is a product us mommies could REALLY use.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Hot Potato
We have a game that we like to play in our house. It’s called Hot Potato. Sure, most of you have heard of Hot Potato, probably even played it as a child, but in our house, the rules are a little different.
First of all, our potato is a little different than most. This one isn’t even that hot. More like lukewarm. And squishy. It also moves of it’s own accord and makes lots of noise. To keep things from getting complicated, we like to call the potato ‘Sam’.
Secondly, with most games, everyone sits down, plays the game, someone wins the game, the game ends. Our version of this game has NO END!
Let me demonstrate a typical round of Hot Potato in our house.
When the game starts, I am always in possession of the potato. I put the potato down and it scurries away into a brother’s bedroom. Shortly thereafter, a brother drags the potato back to me. I put the potato back down and it scurries towards it’s own bedroom where the door is promptly slammed in it’s face. The potato runs back to me.
I put the potato down and it turns towards the den where there is a Lincoln log village that has been painstakingly built. After the sound of collapsing logs and a heart-wrenching wail, the potato comes running back to me. It is now turning red and getting increasingly hot.
I decide to end this round by putting the potato away for a few hours. It is placed in the potato bin with some milk to marinate with.
I go outside to get the mail and return to have the potato shoved back into my arms.
“Why did you get the potato out of it’s bin??” I ask.
“It was too loud and we’re trying to watch a video.” They reply. “Besides, it’s rotten.”
I test the air and sure enough, Hot Potato has turned into Rotten Potato.
Round two has begun. Great.
Oh, and the last thing that is distinctly different about our version of Hot Potato is this: It’s the potato that actually wins the game.
First of all, our potato is a little different than most. This one isn’t even that hot. More like lukewarm. And squishy. It also moves of it’s own accord and makes lots of noise. To keep things from getting complicated, we like to call the potato ‘Sam’.
Secondly, with most games, everyone sits down, plays the game, someone wins the game, the game ends. Our version of this game has NO END!
Let me demonstrate a typical round of Hot Potato in our house.
When the game starts, I am always in possession of the potato. I put the potato down and it scurries away into a brother’s bedroom. Shortly thereafter, a brother drags the potato back to me. I put the potato back down and it scurries towards it’s own bedroom where the door is promptly slammed in it’s face. The potato runs back to me.
I put the potato down and it turns towards the den where there is a Lincoln log village that has been painstakingly built. After the sound of collapsing logs and a heart-wrenching wail, the potato comes running back to me. It is now turning red and getting increasingly hot.
I decide to end this round by putting the potato away for a few hours. It is placed in the potato bin with some milk to marinate with.
I go outside to get the mail and return to have the potato shoved back into my arms.
“Why did you get the potato out of it’s bin??” I ask.
“It was too loud and we’re trying to watch a video.” They reply. “Besides, it’s rotten.”
I test the air and sure enough, Hot Potato has turned into Rotten Potato.
Round two has begun. Great.
Oh, and the last thing that is distinctly different about our version of Hot Potato is this: It’s the potato that actually wins the game.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
What You Will (and Won't) Read in our Holiday, er, Valentine's Letter
Letter: We are so blessed to have 4 healthy, happy, rambunctious little boys
Not in the Letter: I don’t think I’m going to make it. Going from 3 to 4 has totally kicked my butt!
Letter: We have really enjoyed homeschooling Josh and Will this year.
Not in the Letter: How many times I’ve asked other home-schooling mommies if they would take my kids.
Letter: It’s been so exciting to watch our little guy go from a tiny, helpless newborn to a walking, climbing, curious little boy.
Not in the Letter: “AAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGG! How the heck did he get up on the window ledge??!!”
Letter: This was the year of Superheros!! From Star Wars to Robin Hood to Superman, the boys ate it all up!
Not in the Letter: Having to call for ‘Obi Wan and Anakin’ to get out of the pool in front of many curious mommies who actually think I named my kids Obi Wan and Anakin.
The boys putting their street clothes on over their padded Superman and Spiderman outfits and enduring the looks of strangers because my kids look like some genetic steroid experiment gone bad.
Running through the toy department at the store screaming for Josh and terrified he’d been abducted only to find him hiding in an aisle refusing to respond because I was supposed to remember that his name is no longer Josh, but Robin Hood.
Letter: We took our first trip to the emergency room as Will broke his arm after falling (being pushed) off the top bunk of his bed.
Not in the Letter: How long Brett and I rolled our eyes at each other over Will’s head as he continued to writhe and scream about how bad his arm hurt. We were a full half hour into our conversation about how he must need more attention for him to be carrying on like this before I noticed that his arm looked a little crooked….
Letter: I’ve enjoyed playing around in the blogging world this year.
Not in the Letter: “Will everyone please leave me alone for 2 seconds?? Mommy has to try and be funny and you’re all sucking the life out of me!”
Letter: Brett and the boys enjoyed a few camping trips this summer while the baby and I had some peace and quiet.
Not in the Letter: “Make sure you call me at 9am, 12pm, 3pm, 6pm and 9pm every day” 9:05am “Where the heck were you? I almost called the Sheriff’s dept! You’re camping near the WATER?? Make sure the boys wear their life jackets 24/7! Did you bring a gun? Don’t let the boys sleep in the perimeter of the tent in case a bear drags them away in the middle of the night, in fact, I think it would be better if you all slept in the cab of the truck….” 12:07pm “OHMIGOSH! I thought you were all DEAD! What do you MEAN you’re not calling me again??”
Letter: We really enjoyed celebrating the birth of our Lord and ringing in the New Year.
Not in the Letter: Christmas day was spent with Brett stationed in the ‘How the heck do they expect you to get this thing out of the box?’ department and I was stationed in the ‘battery and superglue’ division.
On New Years Eve we decided to light the rest of the fireworks left over from 4th of July and instead ended up creating a new breed of pyromaniacs who stood in the cold chanting “Blow It Up! Blow It Up!”
Letter: We really look forward all the challenges and blessings this next year will offer.
Not in the Letter: Dear Lord, please, we just want to make it through this next year in one piece.
Not in the Letter: I don’t think I’m going to make it. Going from 3 to 4 has totally kicked my butt!
Letter: We have really enjoyed homeschooling Josh and Will this year.
Not in the Letter: How many times I’ve asked other home-schooling mommies if they would take my kids.
Letter: It’s been so exciting to watch our little guy go from a tiny, helpless newborn to a walking, climbing, curious little boy.
Not in the Letter: “AAAAAAHHHHHHHGGGGGG! How the heck did he get up on the window ledge??!!”
Letter: This was the year of Superheros!! From Star Wars to Robin Hood to Superman, the boys ate it all up!
Not in the Letter: Having to call for ‘Obi Wan and Anakin’ to get out of the pool in front of many curious mommies who actually think I named my kids Obi Wan and Anakin.
The boys putting their street clothes on over their padded Superman and Spiderman outfits and enduring the looks of strangers because my kids look like some genetic steroid experiment gone bad.
Running through the toy department at the store screaming for Josh and terrified he’d been abducted only to find him hiding in an aisle refusing to respond because I was supposed to remember that his name is no longer Josh, but Robin Hood.
Letter: We took our first trip to the emergency room as Will broke his arm after falling (being pushed) off the top bunk of his bed.
Not in the Letter: How long Brett and I rolled our eyes at each other over Will’s head as he continued to writhe and scream about how bad his arm hurt. We were a full half hour into our conversation about how he must need more attention for him to be carrying on like this before I noticed that his arm looked a little crooked….
Letter: I’ve enjoyed playing around in the blogging world this year.
Not in the Letter: “Will everyone please leave me alone for 2 seconds?? Mommy has to try and be funny and you’re all sucking the life out of me!”
Letter: Brett and the boys enjoyed a few camping trips this summer while the baby and I had some peace and quiet.
Not in the Letter: “Make sure you call me at 9am, 12pm, 3pm, 6pm and 9pm every day” 9:05am “Where the heck were you? I almost called the Sheriff’s dept! You’re camping near the WATER?? Make sure the boys wear their life jackets 24/7! Did you bring a gun? Don’t let the boys sleep in the perimeter of the tent in case a bear drags them away in the middle of the night, in fact, I think it would be better if you all slept in the cab of the truck….” 12:07pm “OHMIGOSH! I thought you were all DEAD! What do you MEAN you’re not calling me again??”
Letter: We really enjoyed celebrating the birth of our Lord and ringing in the New Year.
Not in the Letter: Christmas day was spent with Brett stationed in the ‘How the heck do they expect you to get this thing out of the box?’ department and I was stationed in the ‘battery and superglue’ division.
On New Years Eve we decided to light the rest of the fireworks left over from 4th of July and instead ended up creating a new breed of pyromaniacs who stood in the cold chanting “Blow It Up! Blow It Up!”
Letter: We really look forward all the challenges and blessings this next year will offer.
Not in the Letter: Dear Lord, please, we just want to make it through this next year in one piece.
Things I Can't Believe I've Said - Or Had To Say
“Get off his head”
“Don’t jump on the baby!”
“Crap, the baby’s eating trash again”
“Get down off the wall” (Yes, my boys can physically climb a wall!)
“Get that chicken out of here!”
“Don’t put your cereal in the VCR”
“Does anyone know where the baby is??”
“The baby is hanging on the DVD drive again”
“How much is a new DVD drive?”
“I know it’s yours but just let him have it so he’ll stop screaming!”
“If you kick his seat one more time I’ll cut your legs off at the knees!”
(Don’t worry, this is usually followed by their peals of laughter – and more kicking of the back of the seat)
“I know they’re all crying, just take the picture anyway so we can get out of here.”
“I’m pregnant AGAIN?!?” (Followed by an intense scowl at my very bewildered husband)
“Just leave it on the floor, the baby will eat it.”
“Is it possible to completely eliminate the hours between 4 and 9pm?”
“I wish I drank alcohol”
“No, but I think their mom’s around here somewhere” (In response to an incredulous looking woman at Target asking if the boys running around the toy department were mine)
“Don’t jump on the baby!”
“Crap, the baby’s eating trash again”
“Get down off the wall” (Yes, my boys can physically climb a wall!)
“Get that chicken out of here!”
“Don’t put your cereal in the VCR”
“Does anyone know where the baby is??”
“The baby is hanging on the DVD drive again”
“How much is a new DVD drive?”
“I know it’s yours but just let him have it so he’ll stop screaming!”
“If you kick his seat one more time I’ll cut your legs off at the knees!”
(Don’t worry, this is usually followed by their peals of laughter – and more kicking of the back of the seat)
“I know they’re all crying, just take the picture anyway so we can get out of here.”
“I’m pregnant AGAIN?!?” (Followed by an intense scowl at my very bewildered husband)
“Just leave it on the floor, the baby will eat it.”
“Is it possible to completely eliminate the hours between 4 and 9pm?”
“I wish I drank alcohol”
“No, but I think their mom’s around here somewhere” (In response to an incredulous looking woman at Target asking if the boys running around the toy department were mine)
Friday, December 14, 2007
Confessions
I let my potty training toddler go naked most of the day. Not only does this cut down on a crucial, timesaving step when it’s time to go potty, but it also almost eliminates his mark on my laundry load.
I let Sam drink from warm bottles.
I purposely tell my kids to clean up their rooms knowing that they will then play as nicely and quietly as they can to not bring attention to the fact that they are disobeying me.
Sam gets upset when I sweep the floor because I’m eliminating a crucial element of his dietary sustenance (I let him eat off the floor).
I don’t let my kids dress themselves when we go out because I care what others think of me.
I tell my kids that mommy is ‘working’ when I am reading the news or blogging on the computer.
My kids often have string cheese and apples for lunch because they can get it themselves.
I will often dress in baggy knit pants and a comfy T-shirt, then wear it to bed that night and then again the next day. Again, this dramatically cuts down on my laundry loads.
I believe that Hawaiian pizza and a milkshake covers all 4 food groups and is then, in fact, a healthy meal.
I rub spit up into the carpet with my sock.
I do cry over spilled milk.
I will take a binky from my toddler’s mouth and give it to the baby.
My 6 and 7 year olds have BB guns, throwing knives and are getting bows and arrows for Christmas.
My 3 year old still calls the baby “Baby Wham” and I think it’s cute.
I have let my kids help themselves to cupcakes for breakfast so that I can sleep a few minutes longer.
The real purpose of these confessions is that I hope my mom will read them and immediately make a plane reservation to come out here and take ‘proper care of these poor babies!’
I let Sam drink from warm bottles.
I purposely tell my kids to clean up their rooms knowing that they will then play as nicely and quietly as they can to not bring attention to the fact that they are disobeying me.
Sam gets upset when I sweep the floor because I’m eliminating a crucial element of his dietary sustenance (I let him eat off the floor).
I don’t let my kids dress themselves when we go out because I care what others think of me.
I tell my kids that mommy is ‘working’ when I am reading the news or blogging on the computer.
My kids often have string cheese and apples for lunch because they can get it themselves.
I will often dress in baggy knit pants and a comfy T-shirt, then wear it to bed that night and then again the next day. Again, this dramatically cuts down on my laundry loads.
I believe that Hawaiian pizza and a milkshake covers all 4 food groups and is then, in fact, a healthy meal.
I rub spit up into the carpet with my sock.
I do cry over spilled milk.
I will take a binky from my toddler’s mouth and give it to the baby.
My 6 and 7 year olds have BB guns, throwing knives and are getting bows and arrows for Christmas.
My 3 year old still calls the baby “Baby Wham” and I think it’s cute.
I have let my kids help themselves to cupcakes for breakfast so that I can sleep a few minutes longer.
The real purpose of these confessions is that I hope my mom will read them and immediately make a plane reservation to come out here and take ‘proper care of these poor babies!’
Friday, November 30, 2007
Products We Mommies Really Want
Closed Captioned Cameras
I have a confession to make: I’m a bad news junkie. I know that there are many women out there who prided themselves about being informed of the events of the day, but once their babies were born, became unable to emotionally handle all the horrible things happening in the world. I, on the other hand, seem to be more drawn to these horrible stories now that I’m a mom because it keeps me in a proper state of panic.
Gone are the days of ‘Stranger, Danger’, I now have myself convinced that the guy reading our meter is secretly plotting some heinous crime.
You can imagine my devastation the first time my 6 and 7 year old sons insisted they were old enough to go in the Men’s Room at Walmart by themselves. “Not until you have a whistle.” I insisted.
Upon deeper reflection, I realized that in this day of digital everything, why not combine the electronic masterpiece of Closed Caption TV with the ingenuity of digital cameras. A Closed Captioned Camera. Just point and click and a caption about that person will appear at the base of the photo.
Snap! DIRTY OLD MAN WHO LOOKS AT NASTY MAGAZINES
“I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to wait out here until my sons are done in the bathroom”
Snap! RETIRED NAVY OFFICER BUYING CHRISTMAS GIFTS FOR SHUT-INS
“Thank you sir, you may proceed…Er, and will you please make sure my boys aren’t having a water fight in there?”
This device would also be very helpful at the park and playgroups. Just hang back and start taking pictures so that you can direct which group of children your kids should play with.
Snap! OBEDIENT LITTLE GIRL WHO LOVES BABY DOLLS AND WANTS TO MARRY A MISSIONARY.
“Josh, go play with her and BE POLITE!”
Snap! NAUGHTY LITTLE BOY WHO GOT A BB GUN FOR HIS BIRTHDAY
“Will, don’t play with him, but let’s see….” Snap! VERY SAD BOY WHOSE PUPPY RAN AWAY “go share your cookies with that little boy over there”
Of course I realize that this device could backfire on me. I’m sure at some point I will be the unknowing subject of another panicked mommy at the park.
Snap! STAY AT HOME MOM DESPERATE FOR ADULT CONVERSATION. WARNING! WILL SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF YOU!!
I have a confession to make: I’m a bad news junkie. I know that there are many women out there who prided themselves about being informed of the events of the day, but once their babies were born, became unable to emotionally handle all the horrible things happening in the world. I, on the other hand, seem to be more drawn to these horrible stories now that I’m a mom because it keeps me in a proper state of panic.
Gone are the days of ‘Stranger, Danger’, I now have myself convinced that the guy reading our meter is secretly plotting some heinous crime.
You can imagine my devastation the first time my 6 and 7 year old sons insisted they were old enough to go in the Men’s Room at Walmart by themselves. “Not until you have a whistle.” I insisted.
Upon deeper reflection, I realized that in this day of digital everything, why not combine the electronic masterpiece of Closed Caption TV with the ingenuity of digital cameras. A Closed Captioned Camera. Just point and click and a caption about that person will appear at the base of the photo.
Snap! DIRTY OLD MAN WHO LOOKS AT NASTY MAGAZINES
“I’m sorry sir, but you’ll have to wait out here until my sons are done in the bathroom”
Snap! RETIRED NAVY OFFICER BUYING CHRISTMAS GIFTS FOR SHUT-INS
“Thank you sir, you may proceed…Er, and will you please make sure my boys aren’t having a water fight in there?”
This device would also be very helpful at the park and playgroups. Just hang back and start taking pictures so that you can direct which group of children your kids should play with.
Snap! OBEDIENT LITTLE GIRL WHO LOVES BABY DOLLS AND WANTS TO MARRY A MISSIONARY.
“Josh, go play with her and BE POLITE!”
Snap! NAUGHTY LITTLE BOY WHO GOT A BB GUN FOR HIS BIRTHDAY
“Will, don’t play with him, but let’s see….” Snap! VERY SAD BOY WHOSE PUPPY RAN AWAY “go share your cookies with that little boy over there”
Of course I realize that this device could backfire on me. I’m sure at some point I will be the unknowing subject of another panicked mommy at the park.
Snap! STAY AT HOME MOM DESPERATE FOR ADULT CONVERSATION. WARNING! WILL SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF YOU!!
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