Momma Got Shot Today

I have always taken the kids with me on errands. Part necessity, part stubborness on my part - I have been determined from day one that they would be a part of everything I did, even if it required a bit more effort on my part. So, they have always been along for the ride. Sometimes one, sometimes all three, but always an adventure no matter the number. A recent trip was no exception. Since Diva was in school, it was just me and the boys.

Our to do list looked pretty typical:
*gym for Little Man
*Sam's for some essentials
*Hobby Lobby for a fabric run
*Post Office to mail bills and get stamps
*Employee Health for my annual TB skin test

As is often the case, we started at gym and then began making our way back home one errand at a time. Our trip was pretty uneventful - no big scenes, everyone was pleased with our lunch choice (floppy buns) and we made it home in time for a nap before picking Diva up from school. Success!!!

When Daddy got up (he had worked the night before), he asked Little Man about his day..

Daddy: "What all did you do today?"

Little Man: "I saw Miss Erin. We went to the fabric store with the up and down hill. I had floppy buns for lunch and played on the playground. Mommy went to the little hospital and the lady shot her"

Daddy: "Um ... where did Mommy go?" *looking a bit confused*

Little Man: "The little hospital"

I don't know why he didn't understand that one - made perfect sense to me!

Allow me to translate:Employee Health is in a smaller, separate building across from the main hospital. Before we went in, I had prewarned Little Man that Mommy had to go get a shot for work. There you go - we went to the little hospital and Mommy got shot!

A New Kind of Water Slide

My daughter has a small problem - she gets so focused on the task at hand, she completely ignores everything else. Remember having to remind the potty training toddler to make time? I still do that ... she will soon be six!

Earlier this week, I forgot.

The kids had been up and playing for awhile. I assumed, since we had already eaten breakfast and gotten dressed, that everyone had made a stop at the bathroom. What is that they say about assuming?

Little Miss Diva climbed the slide and as she went to sit down ... our little slide became a water slide. Doesn't sound so bad, right? It wouldn't have been, if the slide had been outside (or even where it was supposed to be) ... without any toys at the bottom of it. The overnight bladder capacity of a small child is quite impressive. Even more so when emptied onto one of the only three rugs in the house. It should be noted that in order for this incident to have maximum damage, she had to move the slide ONTO the rug - it lives on a perfectly good area of hardwoods.

I really shouldn't be mad. Her last offending incident involved a bacon cheese biscuit and a room size pottery barn rug when I was four months pregnant. Yes, I did briefly consider just tossing the rug at that point rather than have to clean up the mess. At that moment, cost was not the pressing issue!

So, this really pales in comparison.
It was, in fact, my fault - I assumed!

I have spent many hours trying to figure it out, have asked "why me" countless times and wondered if I did (or didn't) do something along the way to cause it.

The "it" of which I speak: my daughter ... the slob.

I am organized to a fault - a place for everything and everything in it's place. My adorable little Diva takes a slightly different approach - shove it under the bed, in the closet or anywhere else you can think of. It is like watching an episode of Hoarders in the infancy stage. As you might imagine, this leads to a challenge at times. After annoucing she has cleaned, one can still find trash, dirty clothes and assorted other items scattered on the floor or hidden under the bed. Clearly, our definitions of clean aren't quite the same. I'm not sure what is more frustrating - the disarray or the fact that she seems completely comfortable in it.

A recent conversation went something like this:
Me: "Go pick up that mess in your room!"
Diva: "I already did."
Me: "So, when I go in there and look ... (walking towards her bedroom)
"What about this towel and this dress? Do your books go on the floor? This is a mess!"
Diva: "But, I don't care!"
*I know she didn't just say that*

Fast forward a few days:
Me: "Come on it's time to go. Go get your shoes on."
Diva: "I can't find my shoes."
Me: "That's not my problem. Did you put them back where they are supposed to go?"
Diva: "But, I looked EVERYWHERE! I can't find them!"
Me: "Then you have to wear what you can find (pulling out two very mismatched shoes)."
Diva: "But, I don't want to wear those!"
Me: "But, I don't care."
*hmm, that sounds strangely familiar

And yes, that was my daughter in the store ... one brown leather sandal and one gray flip-flop with sequins. No, she doesn't normally have a limp - it's just hard to walk in a heel and a flat at the same time. And no, she still didn't put her shoes where they belong when we got back home.

A Fresh Start ... I Hope

I had great plans when I started this blog. Okay, not really. However, I did hope that writing (blogging) would be a bit more regular than it has become. No fabulous excuses -just a busy momma being pulled in 10 different directions at once. It seems the blog just doesn't pull quite as hard as everything else!

New plan:
I have a handy dandy little notebook (Why yes, we do watch Blue's Clues. How did you know?).
In this notebook, I have been scribbling down the little funnies as they happen. Nothing fancy, just a few words to help me remember. In the new plan, this notebook is a kind of framework for the blog posts. Now when I have a few minutes to sit down and write, it's all right there for me.

Sounds good on paper. We'll see what happens in real life, as that is the true test of any good plan!

An Interesting Afternoon Routine

During the school week, we have a pretty set routine. The oldest is in school, the middle one is in MDO twice a week and the baby is always attached at my hip. As part of this routine, everyone gets piled into the car twice a day for our drive thru the carpool lane. This is, perhaps, my least favorite part of the day. In the morning it is a mad rush, in the afternoon everyone is tired and grouchy. The afternoon also has another added bonus ... it's booty stretchin time!

Wait, let me explain ...

Our afternoon goes something like this:
Me: "Little Man, are you about ready to go get Diva? You need to go potty and then head to the car." *this is met with varying degrees of resistance, but Momma always gets her way in the end*
We then head out for our 3 minute drive to the school.
Maybe because she is my first baby in school, maybe because I have a bit of OCD or maybe a combination of both, we arrive shortly before 3p.m. - school gets out at 3:15.
This leaves us a few minutes sitting in the car.
It doesn't matter what else is going on - happily watching a DVD, singing at the top of his lungs to the radio or throwing a fit like only he can - it always happens just like clockwork.

At exactly 3:00, I hear it:
"MY BOOTY'S STRETCHING!"

This is Little Man speak for needing to use the bathroom. Seriously?!?! You just went to the bathroom five minutes ago!!! We do this everyday, at this exact same time!!! This isn't a new routine!!!

What ensues is a panic of sorts. It would be funny if it wasn't so loud. Of note, he was never had an accident sitting in the carpool line. Interestingly enough, there isn't even a mad dash for the bathroom when we arrive back home. So, being the good momma that I am ...

I crank up the radio and wait for the moment to pass

So, what do you do in the carpool lane?

Steve

I am not often surprised by something my kids say. Amused or even embarassed at times, but rarely surprised. We recently had an exception to the rule.

I headed out to run errands with the boys safely buckled in the backseat, Laurie Berkner playing in the background. Little Man loves to talk while we are riding, but he also wants the music playing. This presents a problem to his mother. A fair bit of hearing loss is done no favors by background noise and not being able to see the speaker face-to-face. As a result, I typically hear bits and pieces of what he says - enough to agree or disagree and get the basic idea of what is being said.

This is what I heard today:
Little Man: " What's that in the sky?"
Me: "Fog" (gotta love those warm, muggy afternoons)
Little Man: "Fog is kinda like steve."
Me: "Yeah, kinda."
Little Man: "You know, Dad likes steve in his shower?"
Me: "What?" *turning radio down*
Little Man: "Daddy likes steve in his shower."
Me: "You mean STEAM? Daddy likes STEAM?:
Little Man: "Yeah, STEVE."

Note to self: work on clear pronounciations with the three-year-old ...
and question the husband about Steve!

Why We Don't Have Guests

We rarely have guests for dinner. It isn't a conscious decision, it just doesn't seem to happen often. Today provided a bit of insight as to why this may be the case. Today we had a dinner guest. Our beloved Kiki had dinner at the K house ...
and she may never return.

Tonight's dinner was like most others. I didn't prepare spaghetti-o's, fish sticks, cheese sandwiches or some other item considered one of the major food groups by the under six crowd. What I did prepare contained meat and clearly identifiable vegetables. Not surprisingly, it was not given a warm welcome upon it's arrival to the table.

It went something like this:
Diva: "What's this?"
Me: "Dinner"
Diva: "But I don't like it!"
Me: "Do you know what it is?"
Diva: "No, but I don't like it!"
Me: "Have you tasted it?"
Diva: "No, but don't like it!"
Me: "How do you know if you don't like it? You don't know what it is and you haven't tasted it!"
Diva: "I'm not eating it!"
Me: *insert basic "Mom" lecture here - you have to at least taste it, nothing else if you don't eat your dinner, etc,*
Diva then took the smallest bite possible ... and promptly puked it back into her plate.
It should be noted that Kiki was sitting beside Diva, no doubt the best view of all the action.

So, who wants to come to dinner at the K house?