Get bent

Church is an adventure every Sunday. It really is. It's a time for renewal and reflection as we give the first morning of the new week to the Lord. I mean, He does deserve the attention, much more than we show, but it also a time of testing for our children. How will they behave? Will they get along with other kids? Be polite? Tell someone when they need to use the bathroom?? For one hour a week, we put utter faith that all the teachable moments at home have stuck with them and they will shine for a little while in front of others.

Then there was last Sunday. As we are getting ready to take the kids to their classes, I'm helping Aaron put his shoes on. They get time on the indoor playground before class and I make them remove their shoes so they don't kick each other or someone else's kid in the face. Well, me being the princess of grace that I am, ended up knocking the boy to his arse when I tugged on his laces to tight and he fell back, off balance. He was mortified. So, I help him up, dust him off, and finish with the laces. As I'm gathering up the diaper bag and a gazillion other things that have to go with the kids to their classes, he proceeds to tug his pants down to show the world his bottom.

"You ruined my bottom," he practically hissed, showing me his now red from impact butt.

I could already feel the stares as parents filed passed. Eh, nothing new with our family.

"I'm sorry," I apologize through barely muffled giggles, pulling his pants back up. My lack of self control causes further humiliation for the boy.

"Mom, you are so bent," he growls.

Oh, if he only knew. :p

Weapons of choice

Oh, Lord WTF was in fine form this morning. Ever notice how so many of the greatest battles in our world's history began at dawn? Before the modern centuries when things like night vision goggles, even electric lights on a mobile scale came into use, armies would strike at first light. For either practicality or affect, it was cool.

Well, dawn served us an ass whuppin' today.

Since the time change, our children have decided that 5am is the hour of choice to rise and greet the day. Let's just say they hand the sun his morning cup of coffee when he rolls out of bed. What is worse, the 3 year-old gets up first. This a problem because he is at that age where he thinks he's as tall as his father and can fly like Superman. And when he thinks he can pour his own juice.

With his general and commander Lord WTF behind him, Samuel decided to get out the gallon, the new gallon of apple juice out and pour him a cold one. In what must have been a spectacular cascade of shimmering amber liquid, 3/4ths of the bottle dumped across a table, three chairs, a bench and a hardwood floor. Sadly, it sat there for a half hour before I made it downstairs so I could catch a shower.

"I'm sorry," was about as much as the husband could say before he flew out the door to the peace of his daily grind, a 'thank God it wasn't me' look covering his face.

Yeah, apple juice. A true Weapon of Mass Destruction.

When blue bears come knocking

Ah, it has been awhile since I've updated. Homeschooling has me busy, but I'm going to put forth a new effort to get my WTF moments out there. So, here we go.

This morning, well before dawn was creeping over the horizon, hubs and eye peeked our reluctant eyes open, becoming vaguely aware of a new day barreling down on us at warp speed. Things were quiet, but that lasted all of three minutes when we heard the kids starting to stir...loudly. Our marital affections had been on hiatus for more than a few days (a record for us), so with ginger footsteps, Hubs crept out of bed and shut our bedroom door. Click went the lock. A few moments of amorous affection began to ensue before the herd completely broke out of their pens and we would be, uh, interrupted yet again.

Fate hates us having sex. No sooner had the thought of even remotely thinking of doing such a thing with each other crossed our minds in mutual agreement when a loud rapping came at the door. "Mama...Daddy...you lock the door?"

Samuel. Sammy-boo, Samwise. He was up.

"Yes, I called out. We'll be out in just a minute." Sad to have to admit that our time together was probably going to be just that, but I would take anything at this point.

Silence on the other side of the door. He bought it!

*knock, Knock, KNOCK* "Mama, Daddy," he called again in such a sweet sing-song voice. "Blue Bear wants to see you!" Jeez, how do you even think about sex after that?

"Coming," I sighed while Steve grumbled all the way to the shower. Blue Bear was very pleased.

*and for my family who reads this, sorry for the subject and all, but this was seriously funny. so if my bros are wretching right about now....hahahahahahaha!

"Wait for it..."

I flicked on tennis today and my oldest son sat down to watch it. The kids are beginning to bud into sports nuts like their mom, but what floored me was how into the match he was. He kept track of score and seriously, when a serve was lobed over the net, he whispers..."wait for it..." to the returning player. I nearly choked. Kid already has an eye for the game and is giving tips. Armchair enthusiast! It's genetic.

Snow

Now this one happened a month ago, but I've been pinned down by sniper fire from lord WTF's minions. Thank goodness I move like a ninja.

Snow. The wonderful frozen stuff that falls from the heavens during winter. The stuff that should not even exist during the summer months unless Al Gore actually has some substance to his premonitions. So, my oldest boy decides to improvise.

Set the scene, Tommy trains laid out in intricate tracks. Gordon is doing his thing, but oh, does Mother Nature (aka Aaron in his little world) have something in store for him. Freak snowstorm in June! Tons of the powdery, and I do mean POWDERY, stuff thump onto his tender, halting rail traffic to a standstill. It's a white out!!

One month later and I'm still cleaning up an entire bottle of baby powder from all over the house. Talk about clogging the filter on the vacuum. :p

Girl shortage

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.

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.