Stubborn Trent

Trent really is the most stubborn child ever born.

He's a diva, too.  Whenever he gets upset he storms down the hallway with a vicious screech that turns into wailing sobs, chooses a bedroom, any bedroom, proceeds inside and slams the door.  Then he bawls and screams at the top of his lungs for as long as it takes for one of us to go back and get him.  Except, if the person who goes to retrieve him is the same person who ticked him off to begin with, (most often me), then the wailing and screaming starts all over again at an even louder pitch.  

So usually I send Cameron back to coax Trent out because Trent likes Cameron.  Cameron is the giver of piggy-back rides.  (How he manages that, I will never know, because Trent weighs the same as a baby elephant.)

More evidence that Trent is a major diva - today he was drinking Ethan's milk from a mug that Ethan left on the table.  When it was all gone, Trent brought the mug to me and grunted for a refill.  Instead, I handed him the sippy cup of milk that I had poured for him not half an hour ago, but he chucked it across the room and shoved the mug into my thigh.  OK, so the kid doesn't like sippy cups anymore.  I collected the sippy cup and poured it's contents into the mug and handed it to Trent.  He muttered a "da-da-da", which means "Thank you" in I'mTooStubbornToMimicWhatYouSay, and took a sip.  Then he looked at me with a scowl and tipped that mug of milk upside down, spilling the contents onto the kitchen floor.

I think he was unsatisfied with the temperature of his beverage.

Diva.

So now I'm rethinking his Halloween costume.

Anyway, back to the stubborn.

Today, Trent threw one of hits fits, slamming the door and screeching like a banshee.  He picked my room this time, and I'm fine with that as long as he stays out of my jewelry box.  And I think it's ok for him to go off on his own and vent his frustrations, so I left him in there for a while before attempting to get him to come out.  I went back once and knew it was a job for Cameron.

Cameron went back, followed by Drew, and emerged without a chunky toddler, but Drew came out crying with a three inch scratch on his back.  Don't mess with Trent.  Actually, it was my dresser that scratched him, but anyway...  

When we finally got the little turd to come out and stop crying over the injustice that was me not carrying him all the way down the hallway when I got him up from his nap, he sat on my lap and glared at anyone who came near.  But Drew, always helpful, decided to brighten Trent's mood with a Goldfish cracker.  He held it up to Trent, but Trent was not going to take it.  He wanted it, but he wasn't going to give in.  So Drew held it up to Trent's mouth and gently shoved it between Trent's lips.  And there it sat.  Trent wasn't going to spit it out, because he wanted it, but he wasn't going to comply with the Good Spirits Campaign that Drew was waging, either, so he couldn't bring it all the way into his mouth on his own.  

We let it sit there for a while.  Trent scowled and didn't budge.  We giggled and Trent didn't so much as crack a smile.  Finally, when drool started to run down Trent's neck, Drew pushed the cracker the rest of the way into Trent's mouth, and we had success.  A smile!

Stubborn little diva.

Week In Review 8/29/10

Boy have we had a week.  It's been a long time since I've had a fatigue-induced mental breakdown, but I suppose I was due.

Monday we took the kids to the park for one last summer picnic.  We were sick of sandwiches, so we brought Dominos pizza.  That stuff is good.

We played at the park and had a good ol' time.  Then it was home and bed, and our first day of homeschool.

It was hard, people.  Hard.  So much time, so little cooperation from the littles who were not used to being ignored for so long...  Cameron and Ethan were amazing though.  They did beautifully.  

We did our basics; math, reading, (both individual and group), language arts, spelling, penmanship, ...uh...did I get it all?  I don't know.  And then there was our science unit for the week:  insects.  

I jest not - my kids are now bug experts.  We watched DVDs on bugs, or arthropods if you will, we built a bug trap (as depicted below), made construction paper insects and labeled all their parts, sculpted models of insects and spiders out of salt dough and then baked and painted them...  The kids rocked it out.  And when they took their final tests on the unit, they each scored 100% without any help from me.  I was so proud.  

They both know that spiders are not insects, but are members of the arachnid family which is a sub-group of the arthropod species.  They also know that pill bugs and crabs are both crustaceans.  (Hello!  I didn't know that!  Well, I knew that about crabs, but not pill bugs.)  

If you asked them what three characteristics are true of all insects, they could tell you that they are all invertebrates, they all have six legs, and all true insects will have a head, thorax, and abdomen.  Then they could point out those parts to you and tell you how to spell them.

I have no idea how long it will take them to forget all this stuff, but who cares?  We had success on our first week!  Of course, there are a lot of things we need to tweak and perfect, but we'll get there.

Here's the kids' trap.  They dug a hole, and placed four flat-ish rocks around it.  (Flat-ish is a word.)

Then they put a large yogurt tub in the hole, and filled dirt around it to make the top of the cup flush with the earth.

 

Then they put a box on top to keep water out of it, and waited over night.

The next morning, they found that they had captured at least three spiders, eight beetles, several potato bugs (pill bugs to some of you), and one earwig, which was evidently killed by one of its cup mates.  It was hard to document all of this because all the insects and spiders were racing around the cup like crazy trying to stay away from each other and find a way out.  We took video of it, but I hate loading video on this thing, so you're out of luck.  (Or maybe count your blessings cause this post is already really long.)

The boys documented their findings...

...and sketched pictures of all the different kinds of insects they found.

And there you have it - a taste of our first week.  

And finally, Cameron's sunflowers are really super tall now.  He's an excellent gardener, and he didn't get that from me.

Have a happy week, everyone!

Lessons At The Berry Farm

I have fond memories of berry picking with my mom and siblings every summer. We went to blueberry farms and plucked dozens of pounds of fruit from the heavy branches. Those outings were always one of my favorite parts of summer; I felt peaceful and happy.

Yesterday I took my boys plus Bryan to a local farm to pick strawberries in hopes that they would find the same simple joy in filling buckets that I had found in the task when I was young.

It almost went well.



I hadn't really taken into account that I was making this journey on my own with two one-year-olds, one three-year-old, and two school-age kids who were so anxious to fill their containers that they didn't bother to check that the berries were ripe before they plucked them from the vine. Grrr...



Add to that the babies who were stepping on the plants, taking bites out of green strawberries and then throwing them, and Drew who ... well, he pretty much did the same thing as the babes. There wasn't enough of me to keep up with them.



Then the wind kicked in and began to blow dirt into all of our eyes. My contacts were screaming in rebellion, while tears streamed down my cheeks.



I completely lost my cool and was chewing kids out for wandering off, picking unripe berries, and everything in between. I felt really bad for turning our outing into an unpleasant experience, but I decided to just fill the stinking boxes as fast as I could and get everyone back in the car before my eyes turned all that dirt to mud.



The day was not a total loss. I learned to never take toddlers to a u-pick berry farm without reinforcements, stay home if it's windy, and that no amount of squashed fruit or sticky hands is worth me becoming the uptight mom who rains on the parade. The kids still had fun, and we used those berries to make some killer smoothies.

Picture Party!

In attempt to keep family updated on our goings-on, and so they don't forget what our kids look like, here are some pictures of what we've been up to...

We skipped church a couple weeks ago because half of us had snot hanging from our noses clear down to our socks. (Not me.) So Ethan went out to play soccer with his dad. He was having a great time until...


...he caught the ball with his stomach. Looks painful, no?


Cameron is almost done with his baseball season. His poor team didn't win a single game because none of them had ever played in the player pitch league before, while the teams they played against had plenty of experience in their pitchers who were two years older than them. I know that life isn't fair, but Cameron's love of baseball was killed, squashed, mutilated and left in the sun to rot when his team was mercilessly beaten over and over. That makes me pretty sad. At least he looks cute though, huh?


Another horrible part of the baseball season was Trent. We couldn't set him down for a second or he would take off for the road or the parking lot, giggling like a maniac the entire way. He loves to do whatever it is he knows he is not supposed to do, and it makes us nuts. Andrew shouldered Trent for several innings every game to keep him from being squashed by a car, but now that I think about it - that would have taught him a lesson.


We went to a park for a barbecue with my parents for Memorial Day, and Andrew wore this hat. He was relentlessly teased by my dad, and rightly so. That was also the last time we saw the sun. My fingers have been numb since May.


Andrew decided that it stinks to do yard work, and while we can't afford to pay a teenager to mow our lawn, (the little punks want $40 just for our backyard!), we can employ our own home-grown slaves and make them tend to the yard for a fraction of the cost of having a larger person do it. Ethan likes to think that he is a world-class weed puller now, but he needs some more practice. Still, nice to have some help.


Cameron, being taller and older, landed the job of mower. Now he knows what hard work is, because we have a rather large yard and our mower is not self-propelled. Total cost for two hours of hard labor? $5 per kid.


Andrew went paintballing. This is one of his trophies. Can't show you the other ones because they are too near the groin. Dangerously near.


At Grandpa's birthday party, Drew jumped on the trampoline. So did I. It was fun! I hadn't been on one of those in years. And I won't be doing it again anytime soon, because I peed a little bit with every bounce. My bladder control is not what it was before children.


Trent fell asleep well before nap time one morning because how could he resist cuddling up with his favorite blankey after a hard morning of rough-housing?


He likes ice-cream, too. I love summer. You can let the kids make total messes of themselves and then just hose them off before letting them back in the house!


Summer is also good for thunder storms. The kids were all lined up watching this one the other evening. The lightening was hitting pretty close, so the thunder was loud. Drew kept running to hide behind the recliner. Good stuff.


Alright - my fingers are going to crack in this cold, so I have to sign off. Have a fabulous weekend, all!

Dear Whoever May Be Reading,

Wow, have things been crazy lately. I'm trying to re-vamp myself and prepare for summer, (providing the snow ever decides to stop), and I've let these little updates slide. Well, enough of that.

Last night I asked Cameron if he wanted me or his dad to go on the field trip with him to the zoo today. I reminded him that I am the cool one who compulsively buys things like candy and souvenirs.

But there's just something about a boy's bond with his father. So today, Andrew went with Cameron to the zoo and the planetarium. I was really glad that Cameron chose Andrew because Andrew never gets to do that kind of stuff with the boys. And really, the only reason I gave Cameron a choice is because I like to put my kids in awkward situations of having to chose their favorite parent and then guilt the hell out of them for it later on.

But if he had chosen me, that would have meant one entire day of not wiping bottoms or noses, and I would have been more than ok with that, too.


Cameron at the zoo with his group. I gave Andrew a ten so he could be the cool dad and get the kids some candy from the gift shop. We like to take every opportunity we can to buy friends for our kids.

Today, Ethan got his first library card. I announced that I was going to the library tonight and he volunteered to come along. (Cameron couldn't come because he was being punished for favoring his father.)

Ethan felt so grown up holding that gray piece of plastic. We spent a half hour perusing the books and when he found out the he could check out a movie he nearly burst with pride. When finally we got in line to check out our selections, Ethan turned to me and said, "Don't worry, Mom, I'll pay for these with my card."

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at him.

And when we got home, I had to take a picture of him pretending to read this book that is 135 pages long, has no pictures, and is far too advanced for him. He's been an avid pretend reader for two solid years. He really does sit there staring at a page for about two minutes before he turns to the next page and pretends to read that one, too. About three days after this process begins he announces that he's finished with his book and would like to start on the next one in the series. He's nuts, but I'll keep him.


Drew has finally mastered the potty. I can happily announce that I have not thrown away a pair of poopy underwear in at least three days. He hasn't had an accident of any sort in quite a long while, and he attributes his success to his tri-cornered hat. It's good luck. He also finds it helpful to bring a snack - thus the empty baggie previously containing potato chips.

We don't really take snacks into the bathroom or wear costumes when we go, I just thought this one incident of both happening was pretty comical. I can't even walk into the bathroom if I'm still chewing something - I have to stand in the hallway and swallow before I go in. So don't go calling the sanitation police or anything.


And our caboose - Trent. This picture depicts the reason I hate giving him a bath.

Because it isn't just him that gets a bath - I end up soaked, too. There have been times when he has gone four or five days without a bath because I couldn't bear to clean up the mess. I hope he grows out of the splashing obsession, because the other parts of bath time are kinda cute:


Just not cute ENOUGH.

So until next time folks, me hopes you are well. I'm going to fold laundry now.

THESE ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES...

We've been enjoying the sunshine and approach of spring.  Don't you love sleeping with the window open?

And you know what sunshine means?  It means I get the Spring Cleaning Bug!  I started with the boy's rooms.  I needed to make room for their new desks that we bought them for homeschooling.  Oh yeah - did I mention we're homeschooling next year?  More on that later.

A steal at ten dollars each.  Now we just need textbooks, art supplies, science materials... And the boys' rooms were as far as I got on that spring cleaning, because after moving one queen sized bed, one toddler bed and two twin beds from one room to another, by myself, I was wiped out.  I think I'm still sweating from that day.

Ethan brought home these depictions of Lincoln and Washington a week or so ago, and let me tell you, I had a fright when I pulled them out of his backpack.  A little warning next time, Ethan!  But the more I studied them, the more they grew on me.  And now they are hanging in my bathroom.  Not really.  I put them in the garbage so they wouldn't attack us while we sleep.

After Cameron made his diorama, Drew begged me to let him paint, which I did, because I'm a cool mom like that.  I thought he knew that the paint was not for eating, but I was wrong.

And speaking of Cameron's diorama, here is the finished product.  Isn't it funny how you picture one thing in your head and your child can picture something completely different?  I always thought there might be more grass in the grasslands ecosystem...  But this diorama will be displayed in his room til the day he dies, he loves it so much.  

This is me on my pretty, new bike.  I wouldn't let Andrew buy me a mountain bike because he wasn't there during my childhood when I almost died forty-seven times on a regular bike on a regular, paved road.  He just doesn't understand.  So I went into the bike store and picked out this one, and the salesman practically gave it to me because I was so charming.  That and it's last year's model which they couldn't seem to get rid of.  It has a lovely bell.  And I can't decide if I want a basket on the front or on the back.  So if you have an opinion - let me know.  I love riding it.  Except for when this is attached to the back:

...and then I almost die.  Pulling three kids, (yes, three - they fit...sort of), behind me in that thing reminds me that all that walking I've been doing doesn't count as exercise at all because I've been doing it at a snail's pace while I wait for Drew to pick up every fallen leaf he sees.  I took the three little guys for a ride yesterday and about twenty minutes ago my legs started to feel normal again.  I'm going again today.  And the next day and the next.  And then one day, I magically won't feel like my thighs are on fire when I pump the fatties up the hill.

And finally, we picked up Andrew's bug yesterday to the tune of more money than I want to mention.  It still makes me want to vomit.  So on the way home from the mechanic the left turn signal quit working because Andrew went over a bump, and also, the fuel line was leaking.  So this is the t-shirt that Andrew used to catch the drip of gasoline that we spent $3.05 a gallon on.  He fixed both issues; the first by going over another bump to jostle the electric lines back in place and the second by replacing the fuel line, or a part of it, anyway.  In spite of all these issues, Andrew still has a ginormous smile on his face.  I'd have a smile on my face, too, if we could have bought the $200 worth of parts ourselves and if Andrew had done the labor.  Lots and lots of hours of labor.  They really add up.  Thank goodness for tax returns.

Now I'm going to go do the breakfast dishes.  By hand.  Because more than two weeks later, my dishwasher is still not working.  But before I go, here's proof that Trent still exists, even after all those sleepless WEEKS when he got used to being held all night after being sick and decided not to sleep at all - ever.  FOR TWO WEEKS.

Have a lovely day, everyone!

Woes From the Sick Ward

I honestly thought I was getting the bug this morning. Stomach pains whenever I ate anything. But so far, so good. I think I have more mental issues than anything else, but we knew that - no need to elaborate.

Drew was the first to be hit on Tuesday, Ethan followed Saturday afternoon, Trent on Saturday night when we found him sleeping in a puddle of his own vomit, and Cameron succumbed around noon today. (Sunday) You should smell our house. Whew! That's what vomit and diarrhea for 6 days times four kids will do. Blame the laundry pile. Andrew and I have nothing to wear because we can't get past the sick laundry long enough to get the regular done.

Ethan asked his Dad and Grandpa to give him a blessing last night, so he's actually felt great all day. I can't get him to tell me what's going on in the bathroom, and he's so modest that I can't bring myself barge in on him to inspect the contents of the toilet when he's done. He goes off to school tomorrow.

Cameron seems to be on the mend. We're going on seven hours with no vomit, and he learned the valuable lesson today that when you have the stomach flu, you should never trust a fart. He will be staying home tomorrow to give him 24 hours sans vomit before chucking him back into the world.

Trent is past the worst of it and just needs to overcome the diaper filling issues. He is eating, sleeping and acting normally otherwise. Thank goodness.

Drew is still my problem child. Always making things exciting. We haven't had any vomit from him since Thursday, but he continues to have diarrhea. About four or five times a day we are alerted to it's reappearance by the stench, and his poor, little bottom is speckled from cheek to cheek, top to bottom with the red bumps of a nasty rash. All that acidity had to catch up to him eventually. Baby powder is working best to combat that. The real issue with Drew is his appetite. All day today he ate one bowl of soup and half a slice of toast. That is it. I tried everything else from pizza to crackers to MnM's to bananas and the kid will not eat. I actually stuck him on the scale today to make sure he still registered. So I'm pushing the liquids, but Drew will only drink Sprite. Figures, huh? Very little water, no milk (which is probably a good thing), no juice, not even popsicles. So he's had two or three cans of soda today. I have no desire for this child to turn into me, so the kids don't get soda very often at all. But since I'm trying to keep him hydrated, I'm pretty much letting him have anything he will drink. If Sprite is it, then that's better than nothing. But if he thinks that that is going to continue after the diarrhea clears up, then he has a rude awakening coming his way.

Seriously hoping that this will be the last posting about any kind of excretions for a long, long time.

The Kids

DREW

I usually send the kids off to bed with an admonition to say their prayers, and last night I began to wonder if that really happened or not, so I kept them out in the living room to say their prayers, and Drew went first. He needed help, of course, so I gave him the prompts...

Dear Heavenly Father... Dee Hauff fado...

Thank you for my family...(nods head) famee

Thank you for my house...(nods head) house

Please help me to be a good boy...(shakes head) No!

CAMERON

Cameron and Ethan are always begging me to let them bring their own lunches to school. Can't say that I blame them, because a cafeteria tuna sandwich probably isn't at all appetizing, but I usually tell them no, simply because I don't have the time to make them in the mornings. Yesterday I relented because I was making Andrew's lunch anyway and had skipped being a good mom by feeding the kids cold cereal and fruit for breakfast rather than anything warm. So I had a few extra seconds.

Later in the afternoon, Cameron called to tell me they were on their way home, and he told me that he had hardly eaten anything for lunch because I had forgotten to give him a spoon for his yogurt and there was no lettuce on his roast beef sandwich. Apparently, roast beef sandwiches "taste disgusting!" without lettuce.

Ethan pointed out to Cameron that the school provides plastic spoons and maybe next time he could use one of those for his yogurt. Ethan's got my back.

ETHAN

And speaking of Ethan, did you know that "Ethan" has been the most popular boy's name in half of the U.S. states for the last five years or so? We are so original. I'll have tell you about Utah names someday, but I have to say that I was shocked, SHOCKED, when I saw that neither Kaden nor Colton topped the list of popular boys' names in Utah at any time over the last five years. Kayden, Kaden, Brayden, Braxton, Easton and Ryker all made the top 100 in 2008 though, so Armageddon has been evaded for now. (Also, naming your kid after a jail, even if you do change the spelling, is just kind of stupid.)

Anyway, Ethan is a really good manipulator. Since Drew doesn't like to sleep alone in his little bed in a dark room, he usually ends up on Cameron's bed with Cameron, who has become quite good at comforting Drew after bad dreams. Ethan has always felt a little left out because Drew never wants to snuggle with him, so every night when I stand in their doorway for lights out and wish them a good night, Ethan gives me his saddest eyes while he lays there all alone, and he says, "Mom, could you snuggle with me?" Well, it's all a ruse, because as soon as I take pity on him and lay down next to him he rolls over and says, "You can scratch my back if you want to."

And I fall for it every night, because Ethan is just that good at evoking pity from others.

TRENT

Finally, we have Trent. I'm sure you all know that he weighs a hundred pounds, but what you may not know is that he is now the heavy-weight champion in our house. All of that observation in his earlier days has paid off, and he now knows each of his brother's weaknesses. Drew can be taken out with a kick to the head, Ethan will go down with a surprise tackle from behind, and Cameron can't hold out against the forward-leaning slobber blitz.

The boys can all dish it out until the floor is vibrating and the windows are rattling, but Trent is always the last one standing.

Two Videos

First up is Andrew's booty shaking at the Norman Family Christmas Party. Fun party, kinda weird dance, but boy am I glad that my memory card didn't fill up until I got at least a little bit of Andrew's Christmas cheer on tape. He made me swear I wouldn't post this. But he never reads my blog, so what could it hurt? And it's not that bad, really.



And then we have Trent walking. Not his first steps, but these will do. I'm amazed that he could find somewhere to walk among all the debris on the floor, laundry mountain ready to topple on him at any time... And it shows added skill that he can walk in a sleeper that's five inches too long for him and has orange juice stains on the front from breakfast.

Like Christmas, except in January and just for me.

I have no shame. We've all seen it before, and the following will be another example.

I wish to tell you of my three purchases tonight. They are three things that I have been waiting to buy for longer than any normal person would wait.

A bra.

A baby gate.

A vacuum.

I think they all warrant their own story.

Once upon a time, like back in 2000, I had a respectable amount of breast tissue. Nothing to brag about, but enough that no one questioned my gender. Then I had Cameron and lost a little. Then I had Ethan and lost a little more. Then I had Drew and lost the little bit that I had left. Then I had Trent and became concave.

Padded bras have been my curse for going on nine years now, and not just a little padding. There's enough there to unroll and sleep on when I go camping. And under wire is an absolute must - without it, there's no point.

And speaking of no point, I decided several weeks ago that there was no reason for me to strap on an ill-fitting, sweat producing padded bra, when I could just go without. My chest looks like that of a pre-pubescent girl, so why bother?

I know that a lot of you are thinking at this point that I just need to go get a professional bra fitting. You're wrong. I measured myself, and the measurement of my bust at the fullest point is actually only a little less than an inch bigger than my measurement just below the bust. I am officially a double A. 34AA. (I apologize to all the men who are reading this and cringing at my "overshare".) But I just don't care anymore. There are worse things than being flat-chested.

So I've known for a while now that I really need to find myself a training bra. (You know - for the cold days.) Because no one actually makes AA bras.

Tonight I was at Target, crossing from one end of the store to the other, and I happened to wind my way through the little girl's department. I walked straight into the bra section, saw a ridiculously multi-colored thing that looked like it belonged on a Miley Cyrus fan, and what do you know - it was on clearance for a buck seventy-five. I grabbed the thing and headed for the front of the store with my head held high. It is a lucky girl who gets to buy her non-padded, (finally!), under wire bra for less than two dollars. Take that you voluptuous vixens!

Cameron and Ethan happened to be with me, and were not quite as thrilled as I was. They asked me who it was for, as though they knew that such a silly thing could not be for a grown woman, and I told them it was for them. They both flushed red and sweat bullets all the way to the car.

So there you have it, I am a nearly thirty-year-old woman in a training bra. At least I won't have to worry about being saggy.


So, the baby gate. I have safety locks on all of my cabinet doors, except for two. Those are the two that Drew broke about a year ago when he learned that if he just yanked hard enough over and over, the lock would eventually snap and the cabinet door would open. He got away with that twice, and then he got what was coming to him and never did it again.

Enter Trent and Bryan.

Trent and Bryan have two things, and only two things, that they like to do during the day. The first is to follow me around and cry/whine/unfold the clothes I just folded. The second is to empty all the drawers and cupboards in the kitchen. There are child-proof latches on them, again, except for the two that Drew got to, but their arms are just flexible enough to reach into the little space provided before the lock kicks in, and pull out anything that their chubby hands can grab at that weird angle. I have spent a lot of time re-washing measuring cups and bottle nipples and cooking utensils that were clean before they were sucked on by drooling toddlers. And then there is the cereal cabinet. Lots and lots of cereal scattered on the floor. And finally, today, the container of cookies dumped and tediously sampled, one by one.

I'd had my fill after the loss of all those chocolate chip cookies. So tonight, I bought a baby gate and giggled and grinned while I installed it. Then Andrew and I took turns impersonating the reactions we are expecting from Drew, Trent, and Bryan in the morning when they find that they can no longer watch me splutter and turn purple in the face after they finish dismantling the order of the kitchen. I can't wait. I'm going to stand in the kitchen, stick out my tongue and give them the world's most grown-up "nee-ner, nee-ner, neeeee-ner!"

Lastly, this might shock you all, but our vacuum broke over three months ago, and I just replaced it tonight. When it broke, I thought, ah, well....I'll get a new one next time we have an extra fifty bucks. And in the mean time, we can play Redneck and use the shop-vac.

So I've been crawling around on my hands and knees for three months now, vacuuming the rug in the living room with the stupid little hose of the shop-vac, and completely ignoring the bedrooms because the three-pronged plug of the shop-vac didn't fit in the two-pronged outlet of the bedrooms. Sure, we have an extension cord, but that seemed like too much work to then have to crawl around with the hose and pretend that I was making a difference in the cleanliness of the carpet.

In case anyone didn't know, a vacuum hose does not do much for carpet. You really need that spinning brush to lift the fibers and comb out all the junk that 5 kids and one husband can make. (I counted Drew twice, because he's just that messy.) Also, our shop-vac is rather noisy. The first time I plugged it in to give the living room a crawl-over, all the residents of the cemetery down the street came knocking at my door to ask what the horrible noise was.

Every time an extra fifty dollars became available, (which I think happened just twice in those three months), it sounded like a lot more fun to go out to dinner or to a movie instead of buying a vacuum. So once we ate at Wingers - no regrets - and the other time... I don't remember what we did. But it was surely more exciting than a vacuum. This is called being poor and making choices.

Tonight, I buckled down and spent the stupid fifty dollars for a vacuum that will get the job done. My carpet is no longer matted, but back to being slightly shag-ish and soft. It was like all the strands stood up and said, "Well, hello again! It's nice to see you! Won't you please walk on us?" And I can't see anymore flecks of crushed Goldfish crackers scattered about the floor.

So excited was I by the clean living room floor, that at 11 PM I took the vacuum back to my bedroom, where two nights ago Drew ate microwave popcorn. The remnants of that popcorn are actually what put me over the edge and made me go get the vacuum. So I started vacuuming away, humming a happy tune, ducking under Andrew's video game controller cord as I tried not to get in the way of his game, and ran over the vacuum's cord. The stinking overzealous vacuum sucked up it's own cord and the motor instantly smelled like the aftermath of an atom bomb.

I have never, in all my years of vacuuming, seen a machine suck up it's own cord. All my previous models have been smart enough to know to stick to food particles and hair, and to leave the cord alone, should I happen to run over it.

Enough of the plastic coating was chewed off the cord that I now have to patch my new toy with electrical tape.

Or, I could use the cord to zap the first kid who decides to climb over the baby gate.

Christmas!

This is Drew singing karaoke on Christmas Eve. I'm still kicking myself for holding my camera vertically because you can't rotate video, so sorry. But if you listen closely, you can even catch a "Batman smells" in there. Another priceless parenting moment!




The day after Christmas is always a bit of a downer. Feels like all the magic has gone from the days and, having eaten one too many truffles, you can't fit into your pants anymore. We did have a lovely Christmas. The best part was having the entire family together for the first time in a lot of years. The company was good, (with the exception of me, because I was overly tired yesterday and became a bit grouchy in the afternoon), the food was good, and nobody gave anyone a Chia Pet.

Cameron can't decide if his favorite gift was the air hockey table or the tub of Legos.




Ethan's favorite is definitely the Star Wars ship.


Drew loves everything, but has spent the most time with his Buzz Lightyear and his Mr. Potato Head. We have noses and arms and lips scattered all over the house.


Trent loves his ball the best. We just can't get him to slow down enough to get a picture of him with it.

Andrew got an electric razor and felt sad that he didn't get a toy.

I got a new purse because last summer I put a half-eaten Laffy Taffy in my old one and it melted to the bottom.

My mother makes the best cheesecake in the world, and if there's any left when we get there tonight, I'm going to have another piece. Even if it means I can't fit into anything but sweatpants for the next month.

Hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

Family Update: Part Trent

My mother called a few days ago, wondering what size pajamas to buy Trent for his birthday, and when I told her that his bulk required a 3T, she laughed, but did not question me at all. A 3T he got, and he looks like sausage links in them. It's so cute, I almost want to eat him, but that might encourage his biting habit.

I've never had to deal with a biter before; spitting we can handle. But the more I flick Trent's mouth for every offense, the more he laughs and tries to catch us off guard with his little razor teeth. He is a truly happy boy if he can get us to scream and fling him across the room in reflexive self-defense. His subsequent laugh is so catching that we really have to work hard to keep a straight face as we reprimand him and nurse our wounds.

Biting is definitely his specialty, as can be demonstrated by his consumption of food. Thanksgiving night I sat down on my mom's living room floor to share my pumpkin pie with him. Trent took one bite, and then used my rib cage to scale my body and attack my plate. He stopped just short of actually climbing in my mouth to steal my pie. He will eat anything, including pencil erasers and books, but continues to turn his nose up at scrambled eggs and grilled cheese sandwiches, unless I disguise those items with either mounds of salsa, or pieces from Cameron's Lego set.

Our last baby is still sporting reddish hair, and we're thinking that he'll keep it. His Nana loves it, and I have to keep reminding her that it isn't nice to continually tell Trent that he is the best grand-baby ever and that slipping him chocolates when she thinks the other kids aren't looking borders cruelty. (And if you believe me on that one, then looking up the definition of facetious should be added to your to-do list. And that shall be the last time that I state such a suggestion. Next time, you'll just be left to believe everything I say.) Trent has just started to do well at keeping his balance when we stand him up, but walking will probably be a ways off because it's hard to keep that balance when moving such a large mass.

For his birthday, Trent got one of those old-fashioned toys that has pegs in a hole and the kids are meant to hammer the pegs down and then flip it over and hammer them again. Drew and Bryan took to this toy like they'd been doing it all their lives instead of just pooping and making messes, but Trent just held the hammer in his left hand and sucked on the end of it. I took it upon myself to teach him how to hammer. Seems like a father's job, but really, all Andrew has a desire to teach his kids is that the kitchen sink can double for a trash can. Men. Anyway - I sat down with Trent to show him how the hammer can pound the pegs into the holes, and he was quite excited by the concept. He hit a peg with boisterous enthusiasm, and I clapped and said, "Yey!" to encourage further annihilation of the pegs. Trent hit another peg, looked at me with expectant eyes, and was rewarded with more praise and clapping. Then he lunged forward and beat the schnaz-bat out of my knee. I cried out in pain, but only for a moment, because Trent obviously didn't mind what kind of reaction he got for his hammering as long as there was some kind of exclamation. I gave him a stern, "No, No! We only hit the pegs with the hammer. Not people." And then he giggled and walloped me again, right in the same spot as before. So I got up and left him there with his toy, refusing to be tenderized like a cheap steak. Next thing I know, he has carted the hammer over to me and is flashing a toothy grin and has a glint of evil in his eye. I took the hammer away and now I'm afraid to turn my back on him. I should have known that the moment Drew began to resemble a decently behaved child, he would be replaced. I just never figured that it would be Trent filling his shoes.

IT'S TRENT'S BIRTHDAY!! (almost)

We celebrated Trent's first birthday tonight, and I think I'm still in shock at how fast this year has gone. Seems like only yesterday that I was running laps around the house, doing jumping-jacks and even squats in attempt to induce labor. And then there's the other end of the shock in which I find myself amazed that my last little baby isn't a baby anymore. Such a shame...

...except that I can nearly start a countdown chart to no more diapers. So I'm coping just fine.

As for Trent, he is still the same happy, quiet, lovable tub-o that he always has been. He's learned to stand up and balance on his own, but so far, no steps. Give us a few more weeks. He weighs as much as an anvil, and if you don't believe me, I'll show you an x-ray of my back after carrying him on my hip. But more about Trent later, when I post our so-exciting-you'll-pee-your-pants family update later this weekend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TRENT!! (He makes it official on Monday.)