Well, like most of you, a lot has happened this year.
First and foremost, we moved into a larger house in town. This was a huge deal as the house on Elk Park was our first home. We had some great memories there, but it was time to move on. We went from a 1400 sqft hobby farm 20 miles outside of town to a 3400 sqft house right smack in the middle of town. Life is different, but still very much the same.
We have a lot more room to run around the house and I still yell at the boys to stop running. The boys have their own rooms but still beg to sleep together. I decided to take my time decorating the house to get it ‘just right’ and have been on a mad painting binge since the day we moved in (I blame the paint fumes for the fact that I actually tasted the sample that reminded me of a Hershey bar).
We still have ½ an acre and were able to bring some of our chickens over from the other house. After 10 years of complaining about chickens, goats and gardens, I’m rather enjoying the chickens, had a great time in our new garden and sort of wish we had a goat or two (please take a moment of silence to pray for Brett).
Brett made Seargent this year and is doing great in his new position. With leadership comes many advantages as well as trials, but he’s braved it all well and is enjoying the challenges it brings.
We live close to a river and Brett and the boys spent quite a bit of time down by the water. As we all love boating and fishing, we did a little shopping for a small boat to putz around in and do some fishing. In the absence of finding ‘the one’, Brett has decided to build his own boat in our garage this winter (please take a moment of silence to pray for Andrea).
We now live close to a great Christian school and the temptation to quit homeschooling was too big to resist. I called the school to get registration information, then got the tuition information and promptly ordered our next year of homeschool curriculum. We changed up some of our subjects and learning styles and have been having a much funner (yep, I’m the teacher!) homeschool experience.
Josh turned 10 this past year and in the excitement, failed to realize the reason his mother was sobbing in the corner was because she could not only remember, with detail, his first smile, but also knows that over half his time with us was over. “Oh, most kids don’t leave home at 20 anymore”. Er, mine will.
Will, Ben and Sam all celebrated their birthdays within a month of Christmas turning 9, 6 and 4 respectively. As this is a very expensive time of year for us, we tried to convince the boys how much fun it would be to just go to a movie and out for ice cream for their birthday and save the gifts for Christmas. We thought them gullible to agree until we realized that, along with a pizza, it cost over $100 bucks for our family of 6 to go to a movie and out for ice cream!! (Curse you 3-D!) I fear next year they will be too smart to agree to a Redbox movie and microwave popcorn, so we’ve taken money out of their ‘future therapy’ fund (we thought the therapy they would certainly need outweighed the need for college or a career) to pad the way for next birthday/Christmas season.
Speaking of which, the boys were in their first Christmas play. When Sam realized that his brothers all got to wear shepherds costumes, he decided he wanted to go to ‘Someday School’ (translation: Sunday School) so he could be a shepherd too. Instead, he struggled in my lap while I proudly video taped all three of my boys picking their noses next to baby Jesus in front of the entire church. Since I’ve had to give up caring about other’s opinions of me 2 kids ago, I decided to cheer them on as any other proud mom would.
Now as we are coming up on 2011, I know that we will have many changes to deal with this next year, but all in all, I’m sure so many things will stay the same. Josh will still love Legos and tornadoes with a passion. Will is still going to be the super sweet, compassionate young man that makes all my friends who have little girls claim him to marry their daughters. Ben will still be able to look at me with his big blue eyes and bottom lip sticking out and turn me (and anyone else in the vicinity) to a puddle and get anything he wants, and then there’s Sam. Precious, precocious, Sam. I’m sure that Sam will still be able to take a hit that would drop a grown man and make all 3 of his older brothers cry out of sheer frustration. I’m also sure that he will learn to ride a bike, shovel snow, learn Latin and drive a car.
Brett will continue to be a strong, compassionate, honest and just police officer as well as father. He will dream up 77 complicated, expensive and time consuming projects to do, start 23 of them, get frustrated that he only finished 2 then realize that all he really wants to do is hang out with his wife and boys and be content that he took the boys sledding, played board games, went camping and fished off the bridge instead of building that boat in the garage. (Right Brett? You’re not REALLY going to build a boat in our garage, right?)
Me? I’ll just spend another year keeping it real. I’ll stay in my pajamas with the breakfast dishes out until someone calls at 1pm to say they are going to stop by, then take the fastest shower on earth, throw my dishes in the trash and water board my boys into cleaning up all the toys so that when the random acquaintance that just dropped something off on my front porch will believe that I’m the get up early, bake from scratch, cleans the house for fun, patient homeschooling Pilates mom.
Yeah, I’ll be keepin it real.
We hope the Lord will bless you all in this next year and that no matter what changes 2011 brings, we can have peace in the one thing that will NEVER change, is the love the Lord has for each and every one of us.
God Bless,
The Corbetts
Monday, January 10, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Sledding
We went sledding today. It's the day before Christmas Eve, Sam's 4th birthday is tomorrow and filled with all the typical Christmas Eve broohaha so we thought it would be fun to do something as a family to celebrate Sam.
The announcement was made "We're going sledding! Put on all your snow gear and get in the car!" The whoops were heard 'round the neighborhood and the mad dash began.
One hour, 7 fights and a bloody nose later, we were finally putting sleds in the car.
"Where's Sam?"
"He's getting his socks on"
"Sam! Hurry up! Everyone is in the car, let's go!"
"I don wanna go"
"What?"
"I don yike sedding"
"Too late, everyone is already in the car, so let's go"
"I DON WANT TO GOOOOOO!"
It is now that the frustration hits, so I squat down to the level of my son whose birthday we are going to celebrate and state "You WILL get your socks on, you WILL get in the car and you WILL have fun. Is that CLEAR?"
The sobs that follow indicate that it is, indeed, clear.
We get to the sled hill and everyone piles out of the car. We have 2 sleds and 6 sledders. The mathematical equivalent of much arguing and crying at the top of the hill as to who gets to go first. Sam has unhappily disengaged from his car seat and his sitting in a lump on a bench with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "I cold. I don yike being cold" Well, I guess only 5 sledders.
Josh and Will win the toss and get to sled down the hill first. Ben decides to just go down on his belly in order to save face and lights off. Brett and I stand at the top of the hill and watch our little boys having the time of their lives. Well, 3 of the 4, but at least Sam is quiet in his misery, so we're content. It was worth it all the turmoil getting out of the house.
"Moooom! I pooped my pants!"
I stand there next to my man and look for the mom with the fallen face and defeated shoulders whose sledding adventures just ended.
"MOM!"
I look down and see Ben at the bottom of the hill staring up at me.
"Yes dear??"
"I SAID, I pooped my pants"
I look over at Brett hoping that he understood what our 6 year old son was saying, because the cold was messing with my hearing.
"What did he say?"
Brett just silently stares down at Ben with a fallen face and defeated shoulders.
"MOOOM!"
I'm confused. My brain seems unable to wrap around what it happening so I continue to look between Brett and Ben in an attempt to decipher the situation.
Frustrated by the lack of response, Ben now sets off in a huff up the hill in a wide legged stomp.
The heavy sigh next to me triggers a dawning reality.
"Ben, sweetheart, did YOU poop your pants?"
"Yes! That's what I SAID!"
He is now halfway up the hill and looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"What do you mean you pooped your pants??"
It's now Ben's turn to look at me with a blank stare.
"Well, I mean what KIND of poop are we talking about? Do you have an actual terd in your pants?" I look over at Brett and realize by the look on his face, that Ben and I are having our conversation while shouting up and down a sledding hill filled with children, parents, grandparents, friends, co-workers, you name it. As I look around, the look on all of their faces plainly reveal that they are all in on the conversation and, while snickering, thanking God that it's not them.
Ben finishes his awkward trek up the hill and stands tall in front of me oblivious to the fact that the entire sled hill knows what has happened.
Slightly out of breath he states "No, not a terd, more like a wet fart."
"A wet fart or diarrhea?"
His brow furrows as he takes an internal inventory. Hmmm, interesting question you provide, parental unit, I will take a moment to assertain the severity of soiling and get back to you.
I'm standing there bewildered, not so much by the fact that my 6 year old soiled himself on the sledding hill, but more so by the fact that he seems completely undaunted by this. He is standing in front of me looking as though he's deciding between a juice box or chocolate milk.
A short moment later he states "I'm not sure".
Brett looks at me and says "Do you have something for this in the car?"
Are you kidding me?? Yes, of course dear. My youngest child has been potty trained for 2 years, but I regularly carry baby wipes, extra underwear and sledding gear for instances just like THIS!
"No" is what I manage.
Brett comes alive and yells down the hill to Josh and Will "We're leaving! Grab your sled and get in the car!"
"WHAT??!! We only went down ONCE!"
They're right. We got out of the car exactly 7 minutes ago. Three minutes later, we're piling back in the car with everyone grumbling and crying.
Everyone except Sam that is. He's thrilled. He's got a smile on his face and music in his voice "Yeah! We get to go home!"
"Happy Birthday Sam"
"Tanks Mom"
The announcement was made "We're going sledding! Put on all your snow gear and get in the car!" The whoops were heard 'round the neighborhood and the mad dash began.
One hour, 7 fights and a bloody nose later, we were finally putting sleds in the car.
"Where's Sam?"
"He's getting his socks on"
"Sam! Hurry up! Everyone is in the car, let's go!"
"I don wanna go"
"What?"
"I don yike sedding"
"Too late, everyone is already in the car, so let's go"
"I DON WANT TO GOOOOOO!"
It is now that the frustration hits, so I squat down to the level of my son whose birthday we are going to celebrate and state "You WILL get your socks on, you WILL get in the car and you WILL have fun. Is that CLEAR?"
The sobs that follow indicate that it is, indeed, clear.
We get to the sled hill and everyone piles out of the car. We have 2 sleds and 6 sledders. The mathematical equivalent of much arguing and crying at the top of the hill as to who gets to go first. Sam has unhappily disengaged from his car seat and his sitting in a lump on a bench with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "I cold. I don yike being cold" Well, I guess only 5 sledders.
Josh and Will win the toss and get to sled down the hill first. Ben decides to just go down on his belly in order to save face and lights off. Brett and I stand at the top of the hill and watch our little boys having the time of their lives. Well, 3 of the 4, but at least Sam is quiet in his misery, so we're content. It was worth it all the turmoil getting out of the house.
"Moooom! I pooped my pants!"
I stand there next to my man and look for the mom with the fallen face and defeated shoulders whose sledding adventures just ended.
"MOM!"
I look down and see Ben at the bottom of the hill staring up at me.
"Yes dear??"
"I SAID, I pooped my pants"
I look over at Brett hoping that he understood what our 6 year old son was saying, because the cold was messing with my hearing.
"What did he say?"
Brett just silently stares down at Ben with a fallen face and defeated shoulders.
"MOOOM!"
I'm confused. My brain seems unable to wrap around what it happening so I continue to look between Brett and Ben in an attempt to decipher the situation.
Frustrated by the lack of response, Ben now sets off in a huff up the hill in a wide legged stomp.
The heavy sigh next to me triggers a dawning reality.
"Ben, sweetheart, did YOU poop your pants?"
"Yes! That's what I SAID!"
He is now halfway up the hill and looking increasingly uncomfortable.
"What do you mean you pooped your pants??"
It's now Ben's turn to look at me with a blank stare.
"Well, I mean what KIND of poop are we talking about? Do you have an actual terd in your pants?" I look over at Brett and realize by the look on his face, that Ben and I are having our conversation while shouting up and down a sledding hill filled with children, parents, grandparents, friends, co-workers, you name it. As I look around, the look on all of their faces plainly reveal that they are all in on the conversation and, while snickering, thanking God that it's not them.
Ben finishes his awkward trek up the hill and stands tall in front of me oblivious to the fact that the entire sled hill knows what has happened.
Slightly out of breath he states "No, not a terd, more like a wet fart."
"A wet fart or diarrhea?"
His brow furrows as he takes an internal inventory. Hmmm, interesting question you provide, parental unit, I will take a moment to assertain the severity of soiling and get back to you.
I'm standing there bewildered, not so much by the fact that my 6 year old soiled himself on the sledding hill, but more so by the fact that he seems completely undaunted by this. He is standing in front of me looking as though he's deciding between a juice box or chocolate milk.
A short moment later he states "I'm not sure".
Brett looks at me and says "Do you have something for this in the car?"
Are you kidding me?? Yes, of course dear. My youngest child has been potty trained for 2 years, but I regularly carry baby wipes, extra underwear and sledding gear for instances just like THIS!
"No" is what I manage.
Brett comes alive and yells down the hill to Josh and Will "We're leaving! Grab your sled and get in the car!"
"WHAT??!! We only went down ONCE!"
They're right. We got out of the car exactly 7 minutes ago. Three minutes later, we're piling back in the car with everyone grumbling and crying.
Everyone except Sam that is. He's thrilled. He's got a smile on his face and music in his voice "Yeah! We get to go home!"
"Happy Birthday Sam"
"Tanks Mom"
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Quotes from this past year
It's been well over a year since I've been on here, and truth be told, it may be another year until I post again.
"What's so hard about posting?" you ask? Well, it's been a very busy year, we moved, Ben started homeschooling, Brett got a promotion, I started decorating....
Ok, ok, I can't do it. It's Facebook! I joined Facebook and all other priorities (i.e. my blog and showering) have been thrown to the wayside. I'm sorry. Mea Culpa!
Here are some of my status updates from Facebook from the past year:
7 year old Will pointing at 3 crosses on the side of the road: "Look mom! It's the cross where Jesus was crucified!" 9 year old Josh: "Will, Jesus was crucified in Israel....(thoughtfully)...or was it Miami?"
7 year old William: "Mom! There's a deluge of mosquitos outside!"
Me: " 'Deluge'?? Wow Will, you sound very intelligent."
Will: "What's 'intelligent'?"
Last night at dinner, Will leans over and says "Mommy, you are so pretty you should be on a Christmas card". I stared at him for a minute, quietly went to the kitchen and got his birthday cake. I took his fork and stuck it in the middle of the cake, placed it in front of him and said "I have nothing left to teach you. Have at it kid."
Yesterday at lunch, Sam (3) picks up his string cheese, brings it up in front of his face and starts to stare it down. He sighs heavily and states "Yets do this" and takes a bite. After a minute or so he exclaims "Hmm..tastes yike chicken!" I'm staring at this kid utterly confused when Josh comes over and says "He's been watching Survivorman".
Sam's outfit for church last Sunday: Favorite shirt pulled from the bottom of the dirty laundry pile, swimming trunks, 1 tennis shoe/no sock, 1 crock/wrong foot. This was discovered, along with maple syrup all over his face and hands, a mile from church. I believe my last words to Brett were "Make sure they're all presentable".
Will: "Mom, why do people have to pay for speeding tickets when the police give them out for free?"
"I like dirt. It tastes just like sausage." Sam, age 3
Having a "Sixteen Candles" sort of day. If anyone out there cares at all about Brett, you might want to give him a call and let him know he FORGOT HIS WIFE'S BIRTHDAY!!!
(Update later that day): We were rushed getting ready for church this morning so I was flustered when I got in the car. Brett told me to do my 'combat breathing' : Slowly inhale for 4sec, hold for 4sec, release for 4sec. It's supposed to calm you in "under fire" situations. Later at chruch, one of the boys finally realized it was my birthday and told Brett. When I looked over at him, he had this "I'm dead" look on his face and I said "Start your Combat Breathing dear."
Please explain to me what possesses boys to fill their waterguns with urine??
Just got back from meeting Brett in town for lunch. As we were leaving, he got a call and had to run to his car, jump in and speed off. The boys all stared in total wonderment. Then Will whispers "I've never seen a real police car with my REAL dad (as opposed to his many stepdads????) speed away to help someone". Then as if on cue, all four boys stared jumping around an howling like wolves!
"What's so hard about posting?" you ask? Well, it's been a very busy year, we moved, Ben started homeschooling, Brett got a promotion, I started decorating....
Ok, ok, I can't do it. It's Facebook! I joined Facebook and all other priorities (i.e. my blog and showering) have been thrown to the wayside. I'm sorry. Mea Culpa!
Here are some of my status updates from Facebook from the past year:
7 year old Will pointing at 3 crosses on the side of the road: "Look mom! It's the cross where Jesus was crucified!" 9 year old Josh: "Will, Jesus was crucified in Israel....(thoughtfully)...or was it Miami?"
7 year old William: "Mom! There's a deluge of mosquitos outside!"
Me: " 'Deluge'?? Wow Will, you sound very intelligent."
Will: "What's 'intelligent'?"
Last night at dinner, Will leans over and says "Mommy, you are so pretty you should be on a Christmas card". I stared at him for a minute, quietly went to the kitchen and got his birthday cake. I took his fork and stuck it in the middle of the cake, placed it in front of him and said "I have nothing left to teach you. Have at it kid."
Yesterday at lunch, Sam (3) picks up his string cheese, brings it up in front of his face and starts to stare it down. He sighs heavily and states "Yets do this" and takes a bite. After a minute or so he exclaims "Hmm..tastes yike chicken!" I'm staring at this kid utterly confused when Josh comes over and says "He's been watching Survivorman".
Sam's outfit for church last Sunday: Favorite shirt pulled from the bottom of the dirty laundry pile, swimming trunks, 1 tennis shoe/no sock, 1 crock/wrong foot. This was discovered, along with maple syrup all over his face and hands, a mile from church. I believe my last words to Brett were "Make sure they're all presentable".
Will: "Mom, why do people have to pay for speeding tickets when the police give them out for free?"
"I like dirt. It tastes just like sausage." Sam, age 3
Having a "Sixteen Candles" sort of day. If anyone out there cares at all about Brett, you might want to give him a call and let him know he FORGOT HIS WIFE'S BIRTHDAY!!!
(Update later that day): We were rushed getting ready for church this morning so I was flustered when I got in the car. Brett told me to do my 'combat breathing' : Slowly inhale for 4sec, hold for 4sec, release for 4sec. It's supposed to calm you in "under fire" situations. Later at chruch, one of the boys finally realized it was my birthday and told Brett. When I looked over at him, he had this "I'm dead" look on his face and I said "Start your Combat Breathing dear."
Please explain to me what possesses boys to fill their waterguns with urine??
Just got back from meeting Brett in town for lunch. As we were leaving, he got a call and had to run to his car, jump in and speed off. The boys all stared in total wonderment. Then Will whispers "I've never seen a real police car with my REAL dad (as opposed to his many stepdads????) speed away to help someone". Then as if on cue, all four boys stared jumping around an howling like wolves!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Things I Never Knew About Raising Boys
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.
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, 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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
