The costumes that broke the bank

It's that time of year again. The leaves are falling. There's a chill in the air. And the seasonal section of department stores are lined with every Halloween costume known to man. Whatever your kid wants to be, they've got it. We're talking a real diverse collection of costumes here--Spiderman, Transformers, Elmo...
My husband even found a "Diva" costume today. I'm sorry but how in the heck do you dress up like a Diva? Gold chains and big hair? Who knows. One thing I do know is I guarantee some little girl is going to walk right into Target and pick out that very costume.

That is, only if she can afford to be a diva! I'm telling you what, I just about passed out in the aisle today when I saw how much these costumes were! Twenty, thirty, some even forty dollars! For a Halloween costume! It's crazy!

And what's really crazy is that I almost bought three! Luckily, my kids are still young, and can be easily swayed into changing their minds. Mommy has a way of making certain things sound better than others.

"I bet they have a ton of costumes on E-bay. Orrrr...mommy can make you a really awesome costume! Why don't we go home and search on the computer?"

So, to avoid my family's financial demise, and the need to be "bailed-out," I swayed my children and am now responsible for putting together three very "cool" costumes.

The irony of this whole predicament, is that we are not big fans of Halloween anyway, being that we are against pretty much everything it stands for.

What can I say?

We like candy.

Manners for manners

I've recently come across a problem, that I did not see coming. For the past six years I have been teaching my children to use their manners, to be polite, to say please and thank you, and excuse me when it's appropriate. And for the most part, they have done very well in this area, and have turned out to be very polite little people.

However, while I was able to teach them manners, I have failed in teaching them couth. Like if someone has a boogie in their nose, it's not polite to point it out. Or in this case, if someone passes gas on the sly, you don't always have to point them out and tell them to say excuse me.

This is what my two year old did this past week. While I also noticed the faux poi's, I of course didn't mention it. Unfortunately my little darling couldn't help but say something.

At the time, I must admit, I was kind of proud. I didn't know whether to say, "good manners, sweetie," or pretend I didn't hear him and walk away. I opted for choice B, and I walked away, completely oblivious to the mumblings of my two year old.

Oh well, guess it's just one more thing to add to my list of fears in public.

My week in a nutshell

Monday morning, my son decided to style his own hair and put half of the container of gel into his hair, while sitting on my couch. He looked like Frankenstein.

On Tuesday, I caught my two year old son eating a half a stick of butter. For some strange reason, he enjoyed the taste, and continued to grab chunks of it and shove them in his mouth, as I attempted to pry it from his hands.

On Wednesday, it was clear that the butter did not sit well with my son. He tried to run to the bathroom, but didn't make it in time and pooped on the floor in front of the toilet. Lesson learned.

On Wednesday night I went out to an evening writing class and came home to my three month old, who had not eaten in three and a half hours. For a breastfed baby, that mineswhile have been three and a half days. Apparently, all bottle attempts had failed. I went to bed with terrible mother guilt, and resolved to never leave my baby again.

Thursday seemed to be going by without a glitch, that is, until my hubby came home. We seem to have some sort of crazy fertile soil in the front of our house, as all of our perennial "shrubs" have grown to massive sizes. My husband volunteered to trim down our butterfly bush. Twenty minutes later the entire landscaping in our front yard had disappeared. Vanished. It looked like a tornado had come through our neighborhood, ripped up all the plants, and left the house. (Sorry honey, I know I told you I would never mention it again.) What once looked like an amazon jungle, now looks like a desert. I will now spend an unmentionable amount of money, replacing all plants that were lost.

Today is Friday. So far, the morning has been pretty uneventful, but I imagine it will not stay that way. I guess we'll have to wait and see...

A picture is worth a thousand words

Yeah, but is it worth a thousand dollars?

Definitely not if it was taken at one of the department store photo labs. I'm not going to name names though, I'm only going to warn you not to waste your PENNYS at any of those places.
Unfortunately, I am a tough learner, and realized this only after my 25Th time there.

If you're a mom, and you have more than one child, chances are, you can relate to this story. Pictures mean the world to me. I just love them. I love capturing memories, especially since I have four kids now and can barely remember all their names.

I want pictures of every moment of every day.

I want a picture of my baby's feet, because I know one day, I'll forget just how tiny they really were.

And I want a picture of my boys with their spiky hair, because I know that one day, they won't let me rub hair products in their hair, just to get it the way I like it.

One day they probably won't even let me touch their hair.

And even though I didn't love the thought of getting my kids all dolled up and driving forty minutes to get their picture taken, I decided, the picture would be worth it. The memory would be worth it.

So, my husband and I did just that.

Unfortunately, our picture perfect moments were not captured. In fact, the only moments that were captured, were these cartoon-like, wide-angled photos of children with enormous heads. Not my children, more like bubble children.

Now, I'm not a professional photographer by any means, but I'm pretty sure if you use a wide angle lens up close on a child's face, their face is going to look, er...wide.

Besides the terrible shots, the photographer's people skills were less than desirable. I mean, what kid is going to smile at someone who's shouting at them to move their feet?

And to round out the entire unpleasant experience, when I refused to buy any of the photos, they explained to me that I would need to pay the $40.00 sitting fee. Can you imagine?

Unfortunately, I don't remember the end of this story, as I blacked out shortly after that.

I do, however, know that when I came to, all of my money was still in my wallet, and...I didn't have handcuffs on.

Why two year olds shouldn't make homemade pizza

Because they may or may not grab the garlic salt and run around the house dumping it all over the carpet.

And the couch.

And their sister's head.

Surely, we will not make that mistake again.

Politics? What are politics?

I've noticed that a bunch of bloggers have been writing about politics and the upcoming election. Until about a week ago, I would have nothing to say on the topic. Mainly, because I know nothing. Politics just doesn't interest me. Not one bit. Heck, I've never even watched a debate before.

But, when I heard a mother of five kids could possibly be Vice President, I just had to find out about her. So, I watched her speech...and she blew me away.

She inspired me as a woman and as a mother.

She made me proud.

Proud of a fellow mother. Proud of a fellow American.
Proud of a fellow Christian.


As I watched this woman speak on possibly becoming the second most powerful position in this country, and then walk over to her family proudly embracing her five children, I was brought to tears. One of these children, being a baby which some Americans wouldn't have even valued as worthy to be born, only months ago, and another, a teen who will probably be looked down upon, and deemed foolish by some, because she sinned.

But her children, nonetheless.

From the few moments I heard this woman speak, I knew. I knew that we shared the same values. I knew that she believed in the same God as I. I knew that she valued human life. And I knew that she believed in forgiveness.

Her family isn't perfect. She isn't perfect.
But as Palin walked over to her children and kissed each of their heads, she painted a picture for me, of the kind of country I want my children to grow up in.

A people that believes in God.
A people that values human life, even when others don't.
A people that needs and gives forgiveness.

Come election day, I know where my vote is going.

That is, as long as I can figure out those poll machines. (Just pull the lever, right?)

Death by laundry

I'm pretty sure if you laid out all of my laundry, end to end, the pile would go around the world 13 times. Maybe more.

The strange thing is, noone in my family ever has any clothes to wear.

So the obvious question would be, whose clothes am I washing?

When two year olds begin to reason

Somehow my son managed to drag his bubble lawnmower into my living room, and up onto my couch.

As soon as that caught my eye, I told him to put it back outside on the porch.

He responded with, "but then my lawnmower can't see me!"

Who can argue with that? The kid is smart. Makes his mama proud.

Change of plans

As I dropped my big girl off at her first grade classroom this week, I couldn't help but feel as though I was losing her for good. Sure, I know, it's only first grade, I mean she's only six, for crying out loud. But...I wasn't prepared for this.

I wasn't prepared to rush out in the middle of the night searching for dress shoes and navy blue knee highs. Or prepared to be cutting off the crusts of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich at ten o'clock at night. I wasn't prepared to drop her off and leave her for six whole hours. Every day. For the next 180 days. I wasn't prepared for it, because it wasn't my plan.

My plan was to homeschool my daughter. My plan was to see her every day, all day. My plan was to teach her how to add and subtract, take her on field trips, explore and dissect things together. All the while providing her with all the foundation in God, and the academic education she would need. I could do it. I knew I could.

People looked at me like I was crazy. Homeschool with three kids and a newborn? "That sounds really difficult," they'd say. Or at least they'd think it. But I was determined, I knew what was best. Or so I thought.

As I sat down at the kitchen table with my eldest daughter and began to recite the instructions for the lesson, something didn't feel right. It wasn't that it was too hard to follow, for me or for her. Sure, I was somewhat distracted by my two year old attempting to bite my four year old in the butt, but I remained as composed as possible. And my daughter, she whizzed through page after page. She stayed focused and neat, the picture of a perfect student. But again, something didn't feel right.

Still, I pressed on with the lesson. As we closed up our books, I began to feel this gnawing feeling. Maybe, just maybe, homeschooling wasn't the right thing for my girl. Maybe, this wasn't enough.

The huge grin that once adorned her face as she ran out of her classroom, just wasn't there, as we sat down to work together. And the beaming smile that she had, as she performed "Grand Old Flag" on stage with her peers, wouldn't be there either.

Sure, I had big plans. Plans for groups of other children, and science and music lessons, but for my girl, it just didn't seem to be enough. She needed more. She needs more. And though it was hard to admit, for the first time, I couldn't give her what she needed.

My plans of homeschooling my girl, and knowing and being a part of every single thing she learned, turned out, not to be the best thing for her. I struggled with this decision. I wrestled with it, going back and forth in my brain. I even resorted to telling myself that if other people did it, why couldn't I? She'd be fine, I thought. But in the end, I decided, fine isn't enough. Not for my girl.

I want her to thrive. I want her to be happy. I want her to fulfill the plan God has for her. Not the plan I have for her. So, I let go. I let go of my plans, and began to take hold of God's.(Not without a good fight, of course.)

So now, my girl will go off to a good Christian school for six hours every day for the next 180 days, and I can't be with her. I can't watch her learn how to multiply, or make sure she's being polite to her teachers, or even eat lunch with her.

I'm just thankful He can.

Three things that have changed since I had my fourth

1. I have found that I need to make lists, in order to remember to do things. Go pee is on that list.

2. Dinner time used to be a time for our family to talk about our day. Dinner time has now officially been renamed, "quiet time."

3. My husband and I are so busy running around during the day, that the only time we have to talk, is when we're sleeping. We call it multitasking.

Wake up call

I recently aspired to waking up in the morning with a much more enthusiastic and positive attitude for the day, even if I am run down and exhausted.

This morning I awoke around 4 am to my toddler lying next to me. Unbenounced to me, sometime during the night, he snuck into my bed and curled up between my husband and I.

I also awoke to a wetness streaming down my back.

He peed in our bed. A lot.

So much for aspirations. Better luck tomorrow.

Interesting bedtime conversation with my daughter

On our recent weekend family getaway, this is what my daughter said to me as I laid her to sleep one night.

My daughter: "Mama, did you know that today the policeman brought my baby brother back to our room?"

Me: "What are you talking about honey?"

My daughter: "Yeah, when daddy brought us back to our hotel, the policeman found (brother) in the hallway, and knocked on our door."

Me to Husband: "Honey, what the heck is she talking about?"

Husband: "NO, it wasn't like that at all...it wasn't a policeman."

Me: "Yeah??"

Husband: "It was just a security guard."

Qualified

With the recent addition of my newest baby, our fourth, the family dynamic has changed a bit. What was once a sometimes rambunctious household, has now turned into an all out every-man-for- himself, chaotic zoo. Some days I feel myself attempting to block out the myriad of "mamas!", and waterfalls of tears, but to no avail. Some days I am in such a exhausted stupor, that I forget things, like putting the stroller in the trunk, before I back out over it in the driveway. Yes, rare is the occasion that I can even hear myself think, but this morning I found myself drifting off into my brain, for just a quick second.

It all began as I pulled up to the gas pump and began pumping, as I listened to the screams of my six year old. She had gotten her hair entangled in the seat in front of her, while she was picking up the gum wrapper for her "collection." In doing that, she bumped into my two year old who was already screaming about the water bottle that he had dropped on the car floor. As the tears welled up in my eyes, (just a reflex), I found myself comparing the many facets of my job, to other jobs out in the world. And to my surprise, I concluded that the level of stress that I endure on a daily basis, is that much like these other high-intensity occupations. I have discovered that I am in fact, much more qualified for these positions, now, as a stay at home mom of four, then I would be if say, I went to a four-year private college. The following is a list of jobs that I might apply for when I retire:(Please add any additional occupations you think we moms, might be qualified for)

1. Hostage Negotiator--impeccable bribery skills

2. the next Survivorman--with the amount of food that I "save" in my minivan, a family of four could stay alive in an amazon jungle, for at least a month

3. Captain of a Cruise ship--my sense of direction is unwavering, even with passengers in complete pandemonium and disarray and all out fist fights

4. Wrestler--I can pry a bottle of body lotion away from my two year old faster than that baby jaguar on Diego, can climb a tree

5. Lawyer--let's face it, I read my kids like a book. I know when they're tired, when they're hungry and most importantly, when they have to go potty in the middle of a fancy restaurant

One reason why I know God has a sense of humor

I just came across this very interesting post...

"Ask, and it will be given..."

The Beginnings of a Perfectionist

Last night, my husband and I awoke to the unconsolable screams of my two year old. We waited for him to stumble down the stairs to us, and when he did, asked him what was wrong. I had assumed he was either thirsty or had a bad dream, but to my surprise, his response was neither. Through sobs and tears, my little darling cried, "my room is a mess!"

O-kay. Not exactly your typical toddler trauma, but understandably upsetting. I know that I've felt like waking in the middle of the night and screaming about the nine loads of laundry that were waiting for me in the basement.

The Place to Poop

Let's just say our town library probably won't be extending any personal invitations to my family, to return any time soon. Can someone please explain to me why my children insist on pooping every time we go to the library? I mean are they pumping microscopic fiber molecules through the ventilation system? Are they serving raisins and apple juice for snack time? I just don't get it. What is it about the library, that makes them have to go?

Not more than five minutes had gone by when my nine week old decided to do some major pooping, with sound effects mind you, at exactly the moment that I bent down to pick out some books for my kids. The embarrassment from that little incident alone, was enough for me to hightail it out of there. Boy was I naive. The real torture hadn't even begun. After I changed my daughter's diaper, I proceed back to the main children's area to pick out some more books, only to find my potty-training toddler holding the back of his pants saying, "pee-pee, mama!"

This of course turns out to be entirely false, as I go to help him up on the potty, and to my surprise, receive a handful of poop as a thank you. Yeah, did I mention my son mixes up the names of his bodily functions? It gets worse. Because I wasn't aware of this major accident when I placed him on the potty, by now there is poop everywhere...in his pants, down his legs, on the potty.

I attempted to clean up my squirming toddler and the library facilities, all the while using an appropriate library inside voice. Unfortunately, my attempts at remaining discreet in my mission failed, as my infant screamed in hysteria for me to pick her up. Did I mention how those bathrooms echo?

So, I finish the cleanup and head back out to my older two, who are patiently waiting to pick out some books. Just as I lay my baby back in her stroller, I hear the same daunting words all over again..."pee-pee mama." Yup, that's right. Poop mission number two, except this time it's even worse because I have no more wipes, and no more changes of clothes. Needless to say, after the second attempt to sanitize my son and the library bathroom, I promptly packed up my four children and headed home. From now on, I'm renewing my books over the phone.

One ticket to crazyland, please.

After a long, hard day with the kids, I received a very interesting phone call from the telephone company. One that kept me wracking my brain for hours:

"Tiffany" the phone operator: "Hello, I'm calling because you have an outstanding portion of your bill that has gone unpaid. And in order to prevent an interruption of service, you're going to need to pay this portion."

Me: Oh, yes I know all about it. Yeah, we actually don't owe that, we returned the DVR box(babysitter), and we were told we would receive a credit."

Tiff: "Yes, there is an outstanding $300.00 on your bill for the box and I see no credit."

Me: "The box was returned, I know, I did it myself."

Tiff: "Right, but we are showing no record of that. The box would've gone to customer service, so you're going to need to work that out with them."

Me: "Okay, can you transfer me?"

Tiff: "Uh, no ma'am I can't. But I can give you their number."

Me: "Ok, I'll call them now."

Tiff: "So how would you like to pay your bill ma'am, to prevent interruption of service?"

Me: "umm.. I don't owe anything, but I was going to call customer service to work it out."

Tiff: "Yes, you'll need to work that out and then call us back...but as soon as you hang up, you will receive an interruption of service, unless you pay this portion of the bill."

Me: "Okay, so as soon as I hang up, my phone will not work?"

Tiff: "That is correct, ma'am. Unless you pay your bill."

Me: "But I don't have a bill. I have a credit."

Tiff: "Right, but we have no record of that, customer service does."

Me: "So, how exactly can I call customer service if my phone won't work after I hang up?"

Tiff: "Well, ma'am if you pay this portion of your bill, your service will not be interrupted."

Me: (banging head on table) "I'd like to speak with your supervisor."

"Please hold..."

This conversation resulted in the phone company admitting their mistake and crediting my account. They assured me my service would not be interrupted, and I no longer owed anything. I got off the phone and just as they said, it was not shut off. Later that day, I went food shopping and came home and mysteriously, my DVR box was shut off...

All aboard....

Do we really need bread?

Four things. I only need four things. This was my mantra as I pulled into the grocery store parking lot yesterday, with a minivan full of children. My children to be exact. Although outings these days aren't as easy as they once were (yeah,right), I decided to forgo the risk that accompanies four small children in a grocery store. After all, I only needed four things.

I unloaded my gang and allowed my two year old the freedom to walk and hold hands with his sister. First mistake. I managed to walk my parade the 30 feet across the parking lot, into the store and right up to the redbox movie machine, (AKA: Date night.) And the meltdown begins. I tried to wait patiently for my two year old to slide the movie into the return slot. I noticed my eight week old begin to stir, and I knew my window of opportunity was closing in. I watched as my two year old stretched as tall as he could to reach the slot and tried to assist without him knowing, but my feeble attempt had failed. The second my finger grazed the machine, the wailing and body thrashing began. I decided I would not be completely controlled by this kid,(at least not this time), and I quickly pried the movie from his hands and shoved it into the box. Within seconds he had flung himself to the ground. And to top it off, at this very moment my hungry infant begins to cry.

As I picked up my baby, I couldn't help but notice the stares, some sympathetic, some just plain annoyed by the commotion. I strained my voice over the screams of both my children and managed to lure my two year old to follow me towards the bakery. I attempted to regain my composure and my thoughts long enough to remember what the heck I had needed at the store in the first place. But as my mind wandered, so did my son--right up to the freshly baked italian bread where he began to slide the loaves out of their paper bags, all the while telling me, "we need this." I motioned for him to put the bread down, and when he didn't comply, I grabbed his little wrist and made a bee-line for the diaper aisle. This pattern continued on as I maneuvered through the store looking for my four items.

We neared the registers and as I pulled into the lane, my sweet child proceeded to grab numerous candy bars and throw them into the cart. With my infant on one arm, I used my other arm to wrestle the candy from his hands and lifted my son into the cart. A feat that had to be seen to believe. As the screams intensified I tried to remain calm long enough to scan my items and pay. Gotta love self-checkout.

I was pretty much to my boiling point as I headed out to the car with two of my four children screaming at the top of their lungs. I lifted my two year old out of the cart, and wrestled him over to the driver side to put him in his carseat. Unfortunately, I could not even get to the driver side, as a large orange pickup had pulled into the parking spot next to mine, so close that only a paper thin person could fit through. And unfortunately, paper thin I am not. At this very moment I actually thought to myself, "Now I understand why people key other peoples cars." Terrible thought,yes, but sadly enough, true. So, I head back around to the other side of the car with my kicking and screaming toddler and catapult him across the baby seat, into his car seat. Once all my children were securely fastened I jump the passenger seat to get to my seat, and sped off towards home.

The moral of the story is this: If you're thinking about going on an outing with all of your children, ask yourself this, "do we really need bread?"

Number One Sign that Your Kid is Bored

This morning my two and a half year old playfully drove his Imaginext safari jeep into the living room. Alongside his "bounty hunter," (thank you husband), was one spankin new nursing pad. Shortage of toys, you say? Afraid not.

And Then There were Four...

Here she is, born two weeks early...

Grace Kathryn
June 6, 2008

7lbs. 3 oz
20 in. long




Keep checking my posts, as this mama will be back in service very soon.