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?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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.
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!"
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
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.
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!"
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!
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!
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