Sunday, November 23, 2008

For Emergency Use Only!

Last Friday, The Tank woke up from his nap. All groggy and wiping sleep out of his eyes, he asked me, "Why can't I say shit?"

Just in case I misheard him the first time I asked, "What?"

"Why can't I say Shit?" he asked again.

"Because shit is a swear word and swear words are naughty. So we don't use them when we speak."

I could tell the tank was cooking up something as I saw the wheels cranking in his little noggin. Then he inquired, "But what if it was an emergency? Could I say shit then?"

"What kind of an emergency would happen that you would have to say that? " I asked.

The Tank answered, "You know, if there was a fire. Or if a coyote was chasing me. Because, if I coyote was chasing me, then I'd have to say Oh Shit!"

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Pass the buck!

I read somewhere once, "The easiest way to teach children the value of money is to borrow some from them" -Anonymous

I wonder, at what age can I introduce this concept?

Last Wednesday, my sister and I had to make a trip to her second home, Home Depot. So, I carelessly tell all my boys and my nephew that if they are on their best behavior that I will treat them to ice cream.

While my sister is in the store I check my wallet and realize that I have no money. "Oh well", I think to myself, "there is no way in hell that these little rascals will sit still."

Of course, my sister is out of the store in record time and as she departed from the store, I notice the four boys are sitting in my car still as statues and quiet as mice.

"So do we get ice cream now?" asked the Tank.

My voice actually started to crack as I sorrily told all my troopers, "I don't have any money." But, I quickly assured them that I am positive that we have two different kinds of ice cream in our freezer at home.

"That's ok Mommy," the General said.

Oh! How sweet my heart started to melt.

"Auntie Katie can pay!" the General finished.

Astonished at how fast my heart started to harden, "We don't ask other people to pay for things. That isn't polite."

Missing the point, the General replied, "Fine Mommy, Aunt Katie can hand you the dollars so you can pay if you want."

I told the General that it is not polite to ask people for money to buy you things.

Laughing to the point of tears, my sister decided to chime in, "that's ok buddy. I would gladly give you money for ice cream, but I don't have any either."

My children always seem to be just as quick with their come backs as they are with spending my money. Without wasting a moment, the Tank, frustrated by our exchange suggested, "Let's just drive to Papas house. He ALWAYS has money!"

Monday, September 1, 2008

There comes a time in every little boys's life....

for him to step up and take responsibility for wiping his own tushy!

And that time for the Tank has arrived.

"Mom, you come in here?"

"Where is here?" I dare asked.

"I'm in the bathroom and I need you to wipe my butt."

I shouted back from my spot in the kitchen, "No, you need to do it yourself."

"Please!" The pleading began. "Please!" "Please!"

I walked over to the bathroom and explained to the Tank that he is a big boy and he needs to start wiping his own tushy. "You are starting big boy preschool next week. You're a big guy now. You can do it."

The tank responded without missing a beat, "I'm not going to big boy school, it's little boy school. So they can wipe my butt."

"Nope. Your teacher definitely will not be wiping your tushy."

In a nervous voice the Tank asked, "Will she watch me wipe my tushy?"


"Will she check my tushy to make sure all the poopies are gone?"


"Why? Who's going to make sure all my poopies are gone?"

I can't believe I am trying to reason with a three year old about wiping his own hiney.

And here was the only reason I could come up with, "Because your teacher wants nothing to do with you tushy."

Sound reasoning on my part, so I believed. But definitely not good enough for the Tank, whose ONLY fear about starting school is who is going to wipe his tushy for him.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

The Family Pet

I believe that around the age of two every child finds their place within their family. For example, my eldest, whom I refer to has the General, is a natural leader. He is as potent in mind as he is fierce on his feet. The General likes to keep his younger brothers in line, spouting off commands at whim, "You better stop your fussing, because I don't let little guys that cry sleep in my bunkbed!"

My middle child, whom I refer to as the Tank, is the coadjuter of the family. He is always waiting in the wings, ready to be called to duty, whether it is to help is brother fight off evil forces or to assist me in the kitchen. The Tank always wants to be in on the action.

Then there is my youngest. The Destroyer. I believe the name should say it all. Recently he turned two, and the Destroyer has come to find his place in our house as the family pet. Like a puppy, he is loving, loyal and very social. He also, like most puppies, he is yet to be house trained, is prone to wandering off, sloppy wet kisses, biting, barking for attention, and devouring unattended food to the point of explosion.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Attack of the Big Tomato

Yesterday, the General came running in my room, practically hyperventilating, "Mommy, quick! We need to hop in the car and drive over to Auntie's house and pick up my cousin, before the big tomato comes!"

"Slow down! The what is coming?" I asked.

"The BIG Tomato," cried the General. "It's coming and we have to get my cousin before it blows his house away!"

Laughing I asked the General, "Do you mean a tornado?"

"Yea, the big torMado is coming," replied the General. "Like the one that took Dorthy to OZ."

I looked outside and the sky did look pretty ominous.

Later that night...

I was sharing the General's humorous theory about the "big tomato", with my husband.

My husband laughed and wondered if that was how The Attack of the Killer Tomatoes was created. Some guy was sitting around with his son one day having a conversation and the kid started telling his father about a big tomato that attacked homes destroying everything in its way.

Yes, I agreed. Except I think somehow the son's idea was lost in translation.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Mother's Day 2008- Gift priceless!

The General recently invited me to his Mother's Day Tea at his pre-school. Each mother was presented with a certificate that was filled out by their is what the General had to say about me!

Mother's Day May, 2008

My mom's name is Josie. She is 5 year's old and has brown eyes and blonde hair. My mom is 10 feet tall and weighs 5 lbs. Her favorite food is beef. My mom likes to work. My mom looks silly when she---she never looks silly. I love my mom because she helps me find the toys I lost.
Love, Scotty (Aka the General)

I feel a Mastercard commercial coming on...

Preschool $200 a month,
trip to ER for staple in son's head after jumping off the bed, $1500,
knowing that, in the eyes of my son, I look like a young, tall, thin model that always looks good, priceless!

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Pass Over...

The General has been learning, at school, about the different holidays that people celebrate. Last week, the mother of one of his Jewish friends came to the school to speak to the children about Pass Over.

When the General came home that day I asked him, "What did you learn about Pass Over?"

And he informed me that Pass Over entails passing crackers.

Confused and needing a little more elaboration, I asked again, "What is Pass Over?"

The General let out a big sigh and in a dahh manor and answered, "Mom, Pass Over is when everyone is sitting at the table and you want some crackers, so you ask the person next to you to pass them over."

How could I have been so silly not to have understood that?

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The Mom Test

Ok, so this isn't a story of mine, but it could be the story of my life and it is just too cute not to share....

The Mom Test

I was out walking with my 5 year old daughter. She picked up something off the ground and started to put it in her mouth.

I took the item away from her and I asked her not to do that. "Why?" my
daughter asked.

"Because it's been on the ground, you don't know where it's been, it's dirty, and probably has germs," I replied.

At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and asked, "Momma, how do you know all this stuff. You are so smart."

I was thinking quickly, "All moms know this stuff. It's on the Mom Test. You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mom."

We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering this new information.

"Oh..I get it!" she beamed, "So if you don't pass the test you have to be the dad."

"Exactly!" I said with a smile.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Note to Self: Never Go Shopping with 3 Toddlers!

I recently braved taking the General, the Tank and the Destroyer to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for the Destroyer, and some feminine products for myself. Taking all three of my cadets to the store is something I try to avoid at all costs. Mostly because I spend more time apologizing to those around me, for my children's behavior, than I spend shopping. This trip to the pharmacy was no different.

From the minute we entered the store, all eyes were on us. Mostly because the Destroyer was crying, in agony. Whether it was the pain of his cold or the pain of the Tank trying to rip his leg off, I am still not sure.

I quickly threatened the Tank and told him that if he continued to act up that he wouldn't get to go to Grandpa's house later. A solid threat, so I thought. But instead of retreating to my side quietly, the Tank took off like a ragging hyena in search of fresh prey.

As I followed the clatter of the Tank's wake, muttering apologies as I passed frown after frown on people just shaking their heads in disbelief at my total lack of control over my children. I quickly loaded my cart with my feminine products as fast as I could and bolted toward the pharmacy counter.

When I got to the counter the clerk informed us that the Destroyer's prescription wasn't ready yet. So there I was with a crying infant and now two insanely hyper toddlers. You can imagine all the friends I was making.

When our turn finally came, I asked my guys to make themselves useful and unload the cart for Mommy. Little did I know that unloading a box of tampons and a package of maxi-pads would be so thrilling. But as the General lifted the pack of maxi-pads from the cart, the Tank tackled him and ran off with the pads screaming, "I want to hold Mommy's special band-aids!"

Monday, March 10, 2008

The Destroyer got a haircut!

Beware! The smile gets you every time!

Monday, March 3, 2008

Someone's in need of a whooping and it isn't Momma...

One of the trickest things I find about parenting is that no matter how hard I try to teach my children what is right, there is always someone who is better and quicker at teaching them something wrong.

The other night the Tank was impatiently waiting for me to frost his Grandpa's birthday cake. He was hovering over the cake like a vulture waiting to swoop in for the kill.

"Back away from the cake," I pleaded with the Tank as he poked wholes into its side.

"No, I want to frost it!" replied the Tank as he made a second pass around the perimeter of the cake.

"Back away from cake!" I commanded. "You need to be patient, we have to wait for it to cool."

The Tank took his eyes off his prey momentarily to look at me and whispered, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

"What did you say?" I asked genuinely shocked. Neither myself or my husband would ever sputter such harsh words.

Before he could even answer me, the Tank retreated to the naughty corner.

I approached him and asked again, just encase I misheard him, "What did you say?"

The Tank timidly replied, "I said I'm going to kick your ass if you don't let me frost the cake."

Nope. I had heard correctly. All I could think was: where would he learn such words; and if there is going to be an ass kicking around here, I'll be giving it!

I collected my cool and reminded the Tank about manners. I told him that when he was ready to apologize to me that he could come out of the corner.

Just as I turned to walk away the tank sweetly called my name, "Mommy."

"Yes, is there something you would like to say to me?" I asked.

"I'm sorry for saying that I was gonna kick your ass," whispered the Tank.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Mom's Taking a Day Off!

My husband, the bear, grumbled when he saw the sign on the kitchen refrigerator. "Kitchen CLOSED." But it wasn't until he read the sign on the laundry room door that he started to growl, "What's going on? Kitchen CLOSED, Laundry room CLOSED?"

Lying on the couch I quietly responded, "I'm taking a Mental Health Day."

"A What?" roared the bear. Puzzled, my husband repeated, with question and with no concern, what I said, "A mental health day? What's wrong?"

I responded again, "Yes, I'm taking a mental health day. I figure if the police chief can take a mental health day, than I am certainly entitled to one. I'm on call 24/7, fighting the forces against the General, the Tank, and the Destroyer, and I haven't had a day off in four years. I don't even get a lunch break! So, I have decided to take a day off."

After, a quick wrestling match of words, the bear realized that I wasn't backing down and he retreated to the kitchen.

"Stay away from Mom today," I heard him tell the kids, "she's gone mental!"

Saturday, January 19, 2008

The Son Only Rises in Mommy and Daddy's Room

Four years ago my husband and I believed in the "family bed." Why not let the kiddies sleep with us, if it meant that we all got sleep? That last part is key "if we all got sleep," but recently our family bed has turned into the General and the Tank's resting quarters, while my hubby and I get pushed to the end of the bed or to the floor like family pets.

I woke up last night with my husband, the Bear ,hibernating on the floor by our bed covered with a blanket that looked like it was made for a doll. I nudged him very carefully, I didn't want to startle the beast. Half an eyelid opened, so I quietly asked, "what are you doing on the floor?"

He responded, "one of the boys kicked me in the head so I moved to the floor."

I couldn't help by chuckle. "This is ridiculous," I told the Bear. "After all, we are the adults and that is our bed. If anybody should be sleeping on the floor, it should be the boys."

We looked that our children all nestled in our bed. I don't think that there was a more peaceful scene on earth at that moment. The General had his armed intertwined with the Tank's and they were holding hands. It was truly beautiful. But, with only a moment of hesitation, I ripped the covers off my little soldiers and marched them right back to their own beds.

The next morning, the Bear asked the General why he's been sleeping in our bed so much lately.

The General said, "Because, when I wake up in my room it's still dark out. But if I get up and go into your bed, when I wake up it's light out. Your room makes the night go away and makes morning come."

It took a promise of ice cream for breakfast to convince the General and the Tank to stay in their room all through the night. And low and behold morning really does come in their room too!

Friday, January 4, 2008

Bug Infestion

My house has been infested. No, not with termites or cockroaches, those would be easier to rid then this vermin that is reeking havoc in my home.

The Stomach Bug. It is a species so vicious that it has literally stopped the General, the Tank, and the Destroyer in their tracks, which is no easy feat.

The General and the Tank seem to be enduring the worst of the damage. After seeing the General make a mad dash for the latrine, I went to check to check on him. When I asked how he was doing, he looked up from where he was stationed and said, "my butt just puked."

It seems that every year this bug likes to take up residence in our house, working its way through each of us. If only I could find an exterminator in the yellow pages that would extirpate this Bug for good.