And this is how you prove it.......

I'm not entirely sure what's going on in the cosmos lately, but the boys are constantly picking at each other over the most utterly mundane things -- and the tattling, the nit-picking, the non-stop arguing over who is right......well.....it's making me crazy. The latest in the long line of arguments happened after the bath last night.

Gibson, in all his self-righteousness insisted that Landis did not wash his neck thoroughly enough.

"YES I DID!" Countered Landis. And to prove he was right, he turned to me and demanded that I smell it. So, in order to keep the peace and put an end to the argument, I did. And it smelled just fine -- like whatever bar soap they have in there -- which I reported back to Gibson. "His neck smells fine. Now brush your teeth."

"Well, he didn't wash under his armpits at all!" yelled my oldest -- who, might I add, should be identified here as the main instigator.

"YES I DID!" Countered Landis. And to prove once again that he was right, he turned to me and demanded that I smell them. So, in order to keep the peace and put an end to the argument, I did. And they smelled just fine -- like whatever bar soap they have in there -- which I reported back to Gibson. "His armpits smell fine. Now brush your teeth."

"Well maybe he washed his armpits, but I know for a fact that he didn't wash his butt!" Gibson shot back.

At which point a thoroughly exasperated Landis countered "YES I DID!!!!" at the top of his indignant little lungs. And without further ado, he turned to me, dropped trow, bent over and demanded that I smell it.

Now, I don't know about you..... but I gotta' tell ya'........... as a parent, I've done some pretty gross things; Things I never thought I would do in a million years. And frankly, I'm so tired of all the bullshit and the fighting, that I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't briefly consider taking a whiff of that shiny little hiney, patiently waiting high in the air for my sniff and my verdict, just to shut them both up. But in the end, I declined. Because the arguing and bickering may be making me nuts, but I ain't interested in keeping the peace THAT badly.

And on this day, I managed not to pick a fight.

You know, Internet, this whole "going back to full-time work" thing is really putting a crimp in my blogging style. At work I've got, like, deadlines and stuff. And when I get home, my husband wants me spend some time with him instead of typing on the computer. I mean, where are his priorities? Geesh....

But he's at work today, and I'm at home with an entire house to clean and a couch full of laundry to fold, and lots of dust and dog hair staring me down............. So.....TA-DA! It's posting time! You know.... Priorities, right?

Anyway...........Here's a little tid-bit I wanted to share with you. And before I get started, I will present to you my bona fide disclaimer: Mike has really stepped up to the plate where the household chores are concerned. With both of us working full-time, he's been doing laundry, cleaning the kitchen, and taking the initiative on all sorts of things that fell under my "domain" as the stay-at-home-parent. He's doing a good job and I'm officially and publicly acknowledging it. OK? OK.

And now, with my pesky little disclaimer out of the way, I shall proceed with my story........
Mike cleaned the heck out of the upstairs the other day. The boys rooms were spotless, all the toys on the landing were put away, the beds were made and the bathroom was clean. That takes some serious time and effort, and I know that. I do it ALL THE TIME.

But Mike was huffy because two days after he'd spent his afternoon cleaning and organizing and making things nice, the boys had gone upstairs and played with their toys. I forget why he'd gone up there, but he came back down grumbling and frustrated that he'd spent all that time cleaning up after them, and they'd gone upstairs and messed it all back up! The poor man was so annoyed that you could practically see the hair standing straight up off the top of his head.

So I listened to his grumbling, and I nodded sincerely and said "Yeah.... I know....... It's really frustrating." And then I gave him a reassuring little pat on his back and left the room. Because if I didn't I would have added: "It's a little like how I bust my behind every single day to do the enormous amounts of laundry that you guys create. I mean, I get it washed and dried and sometime put back away, and you guys go right back in and WEAR THOSE CLOTHES! AGAIN!

And every freakin' Saturday I have to get my behind to the grocery store because we're almost out of food. For cryin' out loud, I spend all this time planning meals that fit into our budget, and spend all this money buying it, and you guys just turn around and eat it. You EAT IT ALL. And you eat ALL THE TIME.

And how I keep vacuuming the floor, and yet you guys insist on coming back inside! From outside. Where there's dirt. And dried up leaves. And grass clippings. And whatever else you drag back in. And the dang dog has the nerve to come inside and shed -- SHED -- right back on my floors!

And the last time I scrubbed the toilets, at least one of you had the audacity to actually go right on in there and POOP IN IT! I mean, COME ON! I just spent my time cleaning it. Do you really have to use a toilet?! Can't you go outside to the neighbor's yard or something? And at the very least boys, can you please actually HIT THE TARGET?"

But I didn't say that. I didn't say any of it. I just left the room and had my own private little laugh instead. Because, Internet, I am a good wife. And I know how to choose my battles.

I was just wondering.....

What is the appropriate reaction to have when your four year old randomly announces from the back seat of the car, that no one has to worry because he does NOT have any poop in his pants. I mean, doesn't that go without saying?

A lesson in phonics

Gibson is learning to read. And to spell. Which is going to be a problem in the near future because Mike and I always resort to that top-secret-spelling-code that all parents use to avoid a super-charged reaction from the kids before we know for sure that whatever we are about to suggest is actually an option. You know what I mean.... You look across the dinner table and ask "Do we have any c-o-o-k-i-e-s?", or ask casually at breakfast "were you planning on g-o-i-n-g h-i-k-i-n-g with them today?" No parent wants to get their kids completely jazzed about a possibility that's not really going to happen.

So last night, in the car, when I asked Mike if he thought we should get a movie, I spelled it. And I can only assume that what the boys heard was something to the effect of "Should we go get a blah-dee-blah-blah?" Well........let me tell you, that got Gibson's attention, and he went right to work trying to figure it out. "What did you just spell?! What did you just spell?!" Then he knit his little brow and tried to sound out the letters of our top secret code word.

This is new for him. Usually, if we ask him to sound something out, he just blows us off and walks away, slumping his shoulders and muttering something under his breath about how he doesn't really want to. So it probably goes without saying that we were excited when he wanted to try it; That he was actually breaking a word down without any prodding from us.

Slowly, he figured out the 'M' and was working on de-coding the 'O'. Inspired by this sudden burst of self-confidence, Mike tried to help him out. "Do you know what kind of sound a long 'O' makes?" he asked. And from the backseat, it was Landis who answered:
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh".
Landis is only four, so I was shocked that he actually knew what a long 'O' was. More than shocked, I was impressed. Landis is a whiz, and I am continually taken aback by how smart he is.
"Great!" said Mike. "Now do you know what sound a short 'O' makes?" Again, the answer came from Landis. His reply?

"Oh."

And as his answer began to sink in, I started laughing -- Then laughing harder. And finally, I pulled the car into a parking lot because I was laughing so hard I was crying and I couldn't really see where I was going or what I was doing. And if I caused an accident, I didn't think the police officer responding to the call would find it nearly as hysterical as I did. "How did I manage to cause a ten-car pile-up? Well you see officer, my husband asked if anyone knew what sound a long 'O' made.........(Snort, giggle, snort, snort) and do you know what my son said? (Snort, giggle, gasp) he said OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! (snort, gasp, giggle, giggle) Get it? (giggle) Do ya GET IT?! (snort) It's a LONG Oh!!!!!!" (This is the part where my legs collapse as I lose the ability to stand, and instead fall down and roll around in parking lot, guffaw-ing like a mad-woman).

I mean, let's face it. The poor guy would lose his patience with me -- and rightly so -- as I bent over and laughed uproariously, grasping at my stomach and slapping at my thighs. Plus, I don't think that a "laughing hard" defense would hold up in a court of law when I'd get arrested for disorderly conduct and/or get myself a "driving while impaired" citation. And then maybe he'd drag me downtown and have me tested for drugs, because he wouldn't know me and wouldn't know that in my case this sort of unruly behavior is fairly normal. That I, in fact, find lots of things to be downright hilarious.

So, um yeah... anyway........ I pulled into the parking lot a tried to get ahold of myself.
Which I did. Eventually. But even now, as I type this, it continues to crack me up. I'm sitting here re-living the conversation, chuckling quietly, and typing away with a huge smile on my face. And thank God I'm alone, because if anyone saw me, I know they would wonder if I had gone completely off the deep end.

So how about you? What has happened to you lately that made you laugh until you cried? Or made you wander around for days with a giggle just under the surface of the smile plastered across your face?

The Holy Trinity

It's supposed to snow tomorrow. I don't really believe it, because if you know anything about the local news in Charlotte, you know that they love nothing more than to REPORT HOW THE WEATHER IS GOING TO CAUSE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION TO YOUR FAMILY AND WREAK HAVOC ON YOUR LIFE IN UNSPEAKABLE WAYS. Seriously. It's ridiculous.

But Gibson has heard all the weather reports, and he knows that snow is a possibility. And he's dying for it. In fact, he said a little prayer in the backseat of the car today. It went like this: "Please, please, please let it snow tomorrow. (Raising eyes Heaven-ward) Santa, God, and Jesus? Come on! I know you can do it!"



(** Edited to add: Hey! Whadda ya know!? The kid gets a snow day. Who says prayers go unanswered? **)

Have you been hanging out with your college friends again?

I don't know if your kids do this, but mine like to sing songs they hear on the radio and substitute or insert words they think are funny. They're the usual suspects -- "potty words" like butt(s), poo, poop, poopy, wee-nus, etc.... So I hardly batted an eyelash when they started singing back and forth -- each trying to out do the other -- while they worked on their snowman projects at the kitchen table. They'd exhausted their regular list of funny words, and Gibson paused from his project as he tried to come up with something else to insert into the song they were singing.

And then I saw his face brighten a little, and with a triumphant little glow he crowed his newest version of the song back across the table to Landis. He was clearly proud of his word selection; It was funny sounding, but not one they think about very often, as it doesn't have that "potty" connotation they are always hoping for. But it had to do with a body part -- butts to be exact -- so I can only assume that this is where the connection came in.

And so, Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado I present to you the lyric that Gibson came up with. It's sung to the tune of "I like to move it, move it.......". Please feel free to sing along.
I like to spank it, spank it!
I like to spank it, spank it!
I like to spank it spank it!
SPANK IT!

Go ahead. See if you can go the rest of the day without singing that. Without singing that exact version. I dare you.

Landis was sitting at the table too, though he was looking wistfully off into the distance lost in his own thoughts. Quietly, he said "What if there was a race? A naked race. And you could see everyone's butts as they ran by." Then grinning wickedly he looked straight across the table at Gibson and added "A naked race would be fun. We'd laugh and laugh because everyone would be running and you could see everyone's butts." And then he threw his head back and cackled. And folks, I swear right then and there I could see the future.


"All right boys," I sighed, "Let's reign it back in. You'll be in college soon enough."

Twas the night before Christmas........

Twas just before Christmas -- eight-thirty at night
the kids were still up, their eyes were still bright.
We'd had our big dinner -- roast pork and cranberries --
The tableside chatter was lively and merry.

We baked cookies for Santa; A plate we were fixin'
for Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen.
And for Comet and Cupid and Donner, of course!
And for Blitzen and Rudolf (who eats like a horse!)

Then finally (Finally!) the kids were in bed
and visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
Mike went to the kitchen and made a night cap
and then stockings we stuffed and the presents we wrapped.

The wrapping took hours, and midnight drew near.
Our cutting and taping was into high gear!
And when we were done, I wandered to bed.
I fell on my face and I slept like the dead.

And then at some point in the still of the night
We awoke to a sound and a terrible fright!
From up on the stairs there arose such a clatter
Mike sprang from the bed to see what was the matter!

Up on the landing, with a wheeze and a whoop
our poor little Gibson was fighting the Croup*.
He coughed, and he barked, and he gasped and he choked
like for 99 years he'd breathed nothing but smoke.

"Dad!" Gibson yelped, staring Mike in the eye.
"Daddy! I think that I'm going to die!"
Mike scooped him up. He knew just what to do.
We'd had this before. Out the front door he flew.

He sat Gib outside. Let him breathe the cold air.
But our Christmas Eve temp was incredibly rare.
Sixty Degrees! Oh My Lord, it was balmy!
But when you need COLD, well.. it wasn't too calming.

So Gibson continued to gasp and to wheeze
while I was in bed, catching up on my Zzzz's.
Not Mike. He was on it -- so lively and quick!
He had up his sleeve another fine trick!

He altered his course, his movements, they flashed.
He ran through the house! To the bathroom he dashed!
He turned on the shower and sat Gibson down
he watched him breathe loudly and said with a frown

"You stay here little buddy, and try to recover.
I have to go downstairs and wake up your mother."
More rapid than eagles, his footsteps they came.
As he ran down the stairs, he was calling my name.

"Rachel!" he said, "Gibson's a mess!
He can't catch is breath, and I think that unless
he starts to get better, we might have to go!
Which hospital's closest? Tell me...Do you know?

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the second floor bathroom I flew,
with my stress-level rising, and my blood pressure too!

He sat on the toilet, a miserable elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
He was dressed in Pj's, his hair damp from the steam
which made the whole sequence seem like a bad dream.

His eyes, they were focused. His face was not merry.
His chubby white cheeks were as red as a cherry.
His poor little mouth was as round as an "O".
He breathed in. He breathed out. The air started to flow.

We watched him suck air in and out through his teeth
and the steam, it encircled his head like a wreath.
"He's better!" said Mike. "I think he's improving!
He's out of the woods! He can get his breath moving!"

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave us to know we had nothing to dread.
He gave us a nod, and then wiped off his nose,
and pushed himself up -- off the toilet he rose.

We gave him some meds, tucked him into our bed
and then I snuggled in to prop up his small head.
I lay there beside him, awake and afloat.
It was like a kazoo was lodged into his throat.

Somehow, after while, it calmed down to a whistle
and my sheets were as soft as the down of a thistle.
We all drifted off before dawn was in sight.
Merry Christmas to all! And to all a Good Night!







* Any condition of the larynx or trachea characterized by a loud bark-ish sounding cough and difficult breathing. (Doesn't that sound like FUN!!?)