I've often wondered about how our little girl will survive without another female influence other than myself in the house. Three brothers and a father just like them is going to be one hurdle after another for the rest of her life under our roof. We often seek out other neighborhood girls for her to play with and it has worked out so far.
Well, that was until yesterday. Samuel, the 2 year-old decided he wanted to be Cinderella after watching the movie, so he trekked upstairs and raided his sister's closet for her gown from Halloween. I figure what's the harm and doll him up in it. He's pleased. The girl decides she wants to join him as Sleeping Beauty and dashes upstairs to get her self purdiful, as she puts it and they both begin some sort of haphazard ballroom scene in the living room. It's quite precious.
The oldest boy comes upstairs and cracks up at his younger brother in a dress and goes upstairs in cackles. I figure he's going to go play trains or something, but no. He comes down in a fairy ballerina costume and begins to waltz with his sister. Something must have clicked with him that he was supposed to Prince Charming despite the drag outfit and began to chase he sis around the house with a shoe yelling, "Wait! Wait, don't go! What is your name?"
If my boys become drag queens, I'm blaming Disney.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Toothpaste Hell
Of all the art mediums I support, Crest is not one of them.
Our ever creative artist, Rachel, decided that Play-dough and markers were out of style and ventured into the arena of pasty fluoride meets couch, carpet, walls and wood. One would think something that washes so easily from our mouths daily would be a breeze to get out of fabric, but no. Murphy says no.
Housecleaning hint for parent's with rabid children #12
-Use stiff bristled brush when scrubbing toothpaste out of anything and lots of hot water.
You'll hate the smell of mint forever.
Our ever creative artist, Rachel, decided that Play-dough and markers were out of style and ventured into the arena of pasty fluoride meets couch, carpet, walls and wood. One would think something that washes so easily from our mouths daily would be a breeze to get out of fabric, but no. Murphy says no.
Housecleaning hint for parent's with rabid children #12
-Use stiff bristled brush when scrubbing toothpaste out of anything and lots of hot water.
You'll hate the smell of mint forever.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Beware the Refridgerator Art
Lord WTF felled one of his own minions and I caught a glimpse into some of the dastardly booby (sp?) traps he has set for me.
Case in point, my oldest son. Whilst I was away upstairs tending his youngest brother, I hear him padding around on the first floor. Then, the telltale crash and crunch of face meeting glasses. Silence and then the hitching sobs. This is a kid who would rather eat dirt than cry in front of anyone, so I knew he must have been hurt or at least shook up pretty badly.
He meets me on the stairs with blood pouring out of two tiny cuts on his eyebrow. Any mother of a son knows this region of the body well and how profusely it will bleed no matter how shallow the wound, so we patched him up and he's sporting a lovely black and swollen eye for the next week.
After a brief respite, we asked the boy how he fell considering he is extremely agile and like a little spider monkey most of the time.
"Ma, the paper, it came after me and I fell."
The paper. So, before I start checking for killer newspapers flying about, I go downstairs and pull a CSI inspection. Follow the blood trail and spatter to the pool of crimson on the floor. A-ha! Seems Miss Rachel was doing her art earlier in the day and had placed one of her creations on the fridge, but used a weak magnet and said masterpiece floated gracefully to the ground. Now, if I would have stepped on it, I'm sure I would be nursing a broken tail bone by now, but a 5 year-old bounces more.
Just remember, not even such niceties as children's art work is what it seems.
Case in point, my oldest son. Whilst I was away upstairs tending his youngest brother, I hear him padding around on the first floor. Then, the telltale crash and crunch of face meeting glasses. Silence and then the hitching sobs. This is a kid who would rather eat dirt than cry in front of anyone, so I knew he must have been hurt or at least shook up pretty badly.
He meets me on the stairs with blood pouring out of two tiny cuts on his eyebrow. Any mother of a son knows this region of the body well and how profusely it will bleed no matter how shallow the wound, so we patched him up and he's sporting a lovely black and swollen eye for the next week.
After a brief respite, we asked the boy how he fell considering he is extremely agile and like a little spider monkey most of the time.
"Ma, the paper, it came after me and I fell."
The paper. So, before I start checking for killer newspapers flying about, I go downstairs and pull a CSI inspection. Follow the blood trail and spatter to the pool of crimson on the floor. A-ha! Seems Miss Rachel was doing her art earlier in the day and had placed one of her creations on the fridge, but used a weak magnet and said masterpiece floated gracefully to the ground. Now, if I would have stepped on it, I'm sure I would be nursing a broken tail bone by now, but a 5 year-old bounces more.
Just remember, not even such niceties as children's art work is what it seems.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Slushies
If it isn't lord WTF keeping me busy, it is the Spring. When you live in a place where winter lasts about 5 months, you don't take the wonderful days of sun and balmy weather for granted, thus my lack of postings in the past month, but here's a new one.
Just when I thought I could sneak away and spend a few moments lost in the latest novel I'm reading, I hear the distinctive sound of a child skidding across the floor and crashing into the ground. Silence. Then came the hitching screams and wails. My mommy sense told me this was big and up the stairs comes my oldest son, bleeding profusely from his eyebrow. Glasses smashing into a little boys face on impact are very unforgiving, but thankfully, produce very shallow wounds.
Suddenly, everyone under the tender age of six in the house has a boo-boo that needs tending. Amazing how invisible owies pop up on the rest of the pack when one of their brethren is recouping. Will Tylenol take care of it? No. How about a band-aid? Well, sort of, but the magical elixir that puts all hearts and gashes at ease is slushies. Hooray for syrup infused, sugar laden blue slushies, straight from our own personal arsenal of kitchen equipment.
Not even lord WTF can beat my secret weapon to quiet and content kids. YA-HA!
Just when I thought I could sneak away and spend a few moments lost in the latest novel I'm reading, I hear the distinctive sound of a child skidding across the floor and crashing into the ground. Silence. Then came the hitching screams and wails. My mommy sense told me this was big and up the stairs comes my oldest son, bleeding profusely from his eyebrow. Glasses smashing into a little boys face on impact are very unforgiving, but thankfully, produce very shallow wounds.
Suddenly, everyone under the tender age of six in the house has a boo-boo that needs tending. Amazing how invisible owies pop up on the rest of the pack when one of their brethren is recouping. Will Tylenol take care of it? No. How about a band-aid? Well, sort of, but the magical elixir that puts all hearts and gashes at ease is slushies. Hooray for syrup infused, sugar laden blue slushies, straight from our own personal arsenal of kitchen equipment.
Not even lord WTF can beat my secret weapon to quiet and content kids. YA-HA!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Mason Jars
Gack!
My dear friend Annie was a gem and gave me scores of mason jars for summer canning along with gobs of clothes for my brood which were sorely needed. Well, dum, Dum, DUUUUMMM! Lord WTF was ready.
I have about twent mason jars lined up in neat little rows filled with an assortment of wonderful childhood objects. My personal favorite was chalk and water. Note to self for the billionth time. Put %&*# away as soon as it enters the house and keep it under lock and key.
Well, at least I can count my lucky stars; he didn't pee in any of them.
My dear friend Annie was a gem and gave me scores of mason jars for summer canning along with gobs of clothes for my brood which were sorely needed. Well, dum, Dum, DUUUUMMM! Lord WTF was ready.
I have about twent mason jars lined up in neat little rows filled with an assortment of wonderful childhood objects. My personal favorite was chalk and water. Note to self for the billionth time. Put %&*# away as soon as it enters the house and keep it under lock and key.
Well, at least I can count my lucky stars; he didn't pee in any of them.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Scrubs
A word that will strike fear into my little children, SCRUB!
The latest victim, Rachel, who decided to go hog wild with a dry erase marker while I went upstairs to nurse her baby brother. Apparently she was channeling Picasso and couldn't help herself.
An hour later, she was done cleaning the black streaks off of the wall, the tile, the hardwood floor and the carpet. Martha Stewart has nothing on her domestic skills.
The latest victim, Rachel, who decided to go hog wild with a dry erase marker while I went upstairs to nurse her baby brother. Apparently she was channeling Picasso and couldn't help herself.
An hour later, she was done cleaning the black streaks off of the wall, the tile, the hardwood floor and the carpet. Martha Stewart has nothing on her domestic skills.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Dalmations and Bleach
It is absolutely amazing how the most inoccent of childhood movies can corrupt a child. First it was Winnie the Pooh and the Amazing Honey Incident. Now, 101 Dalmations inspiring my children to mark themselves with black spots in order to join the ranks of man's best friend.
Woof!
Thank goodness for bathtime.
Rachel took it a step further and drew on some funky eyebrows for herself. Here's rendition of what she looked like.
We call her little Renji now. (yeah, it's an inside joke for any of the anime fans out there.)
Woof!
Thank goodness for bathtime.
Rachel took it a step further and drew on some funky eyebrows for herself. Here's rendition of what she looked like.
We call her little Renji now. (yeah, it's an inside joke for any of the anime fans out there.)
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