Froggy Fun

Not too long ago it was hot enough to bake cookies on the driveway.

(No, we didn't try... but trust me, it was HOT).

Anyway, what better fun than letting the kids run wild with the hose? Of course, they ended up soaked and happy, and then one day... they found a friend.

"MOOOOOM!  WE FOUND A FROOOOOG!"  (Yes, I know he's a toad).

Lexi would not pick the thing up until she was assured that the creature wouldn't pee on her.  (And maybe it would have? But I was dying to see her pick it up... so I told her that the frog/toad probably wouldn't)

Sayer and Caly would run up to Lexi while she held the frog and reach to touch it... then it would move.  And they would shriek, giggle, and run away. 

It was cracking me up. Sayer would look at then turn to me and say, "Mama! The fwog! He's LOOKIN' AT ME!"

The poor toad. Caly and Sayer eventually said they wanted to hold it. Well, sort of.  They SAID they wanted to hold it, but whenever Lex would try to deposit the toad into their hands, they'd fling their hands backwards out of the reach of his toadiness, and the poor creature flopped onto the deck and tried to escape.

I could hear him wishing for a cat or something to come and eat him to put him out of his misery. 

But instead, Lex chased him down over and over.

And then she would shove it towards her sister's face

And C would shriek and cringe and back away.

Mr. Toady provided a good hour of entertainment before they set him free with shouts of, "BE GOOD, MR. FROGGY!" (Lexi)

And "Go see your froggy MAMA!" (Caly)

And "I WANT DA FWOGGY TO COME SLEEP IN MY BED!" (Sayer)

Um, NO.

Because it's a toad, silly. And EW.

I'm Still Here! Just Check For Me Under the Pile of Children

Miss me? 

You didn't?

Fine, I'll pout.

OK, that's not me, but isn't that the best pouty face ever?

Only temporary, anyway.

Just like my blog absence. 

Things are good around here, just busy.  Let's see... a recap of sorts... Um... Oh! I have a kindergartner! She's as sassy and hilarious and ridiculous as ever. 

We're well under way with our homeschool year and it's going quite well.  Our biggest challenge has been figuring out how to teach the 5 year old while the 3 year old is demanding that she be homeschooled too.  And by homeschooled, she means that I need to pay her undivided attention.  But it's coming along. 

Said 3 year old is coming out of a long phase of being completely impossible.  I'm thankful. She's far more commonly irresistible, which I most certainly prefer. As always, she has loads of personality and exudes it at every opportunity. I'm thankful for her perpetual comedy relief.

Sayer, the resident 2 year old, is one part Mr. Independent Temper Tantrum MUST DO IT HIMSELF and one part utterly adorable snuggle bug. We're learning to balance the two. For now, the first part of him is often diffused easily with a "do you want to help me?" or a chocolate chip. Coping methods, I haz them.

The baby has me firmly wrapped around his little 7 month old finger.  He's quite possibly the happiest baby on the planet. Almost crawling, eating everything he's close to, (including his siblings' appendages), and constantly grinning and squealing.  He's a delight, which probably is why I haven't been around much.  Too busy nomming on his cheeks and letting him climb all over me.

But we're settling into a nice little groove for the fall, so I'm hoping to blog this laundry list of stories and silly things that I have stored. For now? Attempting a good night of sleep. Yeah, fat chance. I am a mother of small children, after all.

Sleep or no sleep, it's so worth it.

Space Cadet

If Shaun isn't home and I have to feed the kids, I generally get them set up and eat later when he gets home. I hang out in the kitchen with them though. But since I'm not usually sitting at the table with them, they tend to go running with their own conversation. 

Lex started talking about who was in my belly and when. Caly, of course, was fascinated.  "We all lived in THERE?" Then Lex talked about how Shaun and I took her and Caly to a baseball game the night before I had Sayer.  "So, Sayer was still in your belly!"

Not to be left out, Caly had her own story to contribute.  Her face got serious and she started, "Mom. When I was in your belly?  You know, when I was a little baby in your belly? Well, when I was in your belly, Daddy took Lexi and Sayer.  He took them to outer space."

Wait, um, what?

I decided to go with it.  "Oh really?  Um, how did they get there?"

"Oh, Mom.  They totally borrowed a space ship."

I was having trouble keeping my face as straight as hers was.  She was totally serious. 

Lex, my literalist, piped up next.  I assumed she'd give Caly a bit of a lesson on the finer points of space travel.  You know, like how we can't just borrow a spaceship and pop through the stratosphere for a spot o' tea.

Not quite. 

"Caaaallllyyy... when you were in Mommy's belly, Sayer totally wasn't born yet."

And that was it. 

Caly, "Oh. Well, then he didn't get to go to space."

And... nothing.

Either Shaun took Lex on one heck of a trip before Caly was born or Lex has an awesome dreamworld.

These kids.  Sheesh.

Car Craziness

Driving in the car with these kids is never a quiet experience. More often than not, there's a little humor mixed in.  Why is it that kids say some of the most hilarious stuff when they're strapped into car seats?  Kind of makes me want to bring the car seats into the house.

Kidding.

Sort of.

Lexi, at 5 years and three quarters, (and don't you forget it), is very big into "teaching" her younger sister. Yesterday, this involved peppering her with random questions. I was actually surprised that Caly(3) was getting most of them correct.  "What makes a rainbow?" "How do plants grow?" "What time of day does the sun come up?" When Caly would get stumped on a question of when Lex didn't really know the answer, she'd ask me.  I'd answer and she'd move to the next.

Then she asked Caly, "Where do babies come from?"

Caly was silent for a minute and I held my breath. I'm not scared of that conversation, but I really didn't want to chat it up about how babies were made while driving 70mph down the interstate with a squealing baby and rambunctious toddler in tow. 

Inevitably, they asked me, "Mama?  Where do babies come from?"

"Uhhhhh..."

Then Lex saved the day, "OH! I know!  They come from bellies! Of course!"

Of course indeed. I was 2 seconds away from saying, "Let's ask Daddy when we get home!" Shaun can thank me later.
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Later, as we drove through my parent's neighborhood, Lexi commented at how all of the houses were made of brick.  Caly agreed, then said,

"Yeah. And that's good. Because, you know, then the Big Bad Wolf can't blow them down."

Forget tornadoes and hurricanes, Big Bad Wolf prevention ranks as number 1 importance.  I think she has a future in national security.
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Driving home from places around bedtime usually means that I'm hoping, praying, and trying to get those kids to just STOP. TALKING. FOR. ONE. STINKING. SECOND. AND. GOTOSLEEP.

Because they will talk and talk and talk and talk and talk and keep themselves awake.  It's like a ninja skill.

The car had settled into a relative silence and I peered back into the rear view mirror to see who was asleep.  No one, but hey... oh well.  Soon.

Then Sayer spotted Shaun driving in front of us and exclaimed, "MOMMY!  Dat's Daddy's car! Dat's Daddy!  Let's go TACKLE HIM!"

I said, "OK, um, maybe when we get home? We're driving!" 

Of course, when you're 2, that is so not a problem, "No, Mama!  Let's go tackle him! WIT OUR CAR!"

Yeah, he's totally not allowed to drive.

Who's On First? Er, What?

Sometimes, conversing with my children is a bit like living inside of an Abbott and Costello sketch.

Particularly the 3rd born. At just over 2 years old, he's rather verbal.  Generally, he can make it known precisely what he wants, though on occasion, especially when he's exhausted, he's been known to lapse into mumbling and garbled speech.  (I've only myself to blame for the mumbles). 

The other night, we were snuggling in his bed as he settled for sleep.  I asked him if he wanted me to sing a song.  Yes, believe it or not, my kids actually dig when I sing.

He mumbled something so I asked him to repeat,

"Put some socks on."

Weird, but ok.  "Sayer, you want me to put your socks on?"

"Put some SOCKS on."

"You want me to go get your socks?"

"Mama, PUT SOME SOCKS ON."

"Uh, ok... can you wait here a second while I go get you some socks?"  The night promised to be a chilly one, so really, why not?

"NO!"

"No?"

"NO, mama!"

I was a bit baffled.  "Sayer, do you want socks or no socks?"

"Socks on!"  His face was turned into his pillow so I asked him to say it again. 

"Socks or no socks, buddy?"

"Sockson!" 

"What?"

"SONGSON!"

"What?"

"Songsong! SONGSONG!"

I had a feeling I was missing something... so I asked again,

"What?"

He turned his head to look me dead in the eye, "Sing. A. Song!"

Oh.  Um, ok.  "You want me to sing a song?"

"Yes."

What the heck, dude?  Wasn't that where we started this melee?

"Ok, um, so what do you want me to sing a song about?"  (He likes to pick his topics... most notable are trucks, trains and pickles). 

I swear the kid looked at me as if I had just forgotten my own name.  "Mama. Put socks on."

I kid you not. 

Then, it hit me.

"Sayer, do you want me to sing a song about putting your socks on?"

He beamed, "YES!"

And then he rolled over, sighed and started to close his eyes. 

And I sang a song about putting on a pair of socks.

Ah, parenthood.

Caly-Isms: Episode Eleventy Billion

I've decided that my second daughter was born to make me laugh at least twice for every time she completely exasperates me.

It's a survival method. Trust me.

Anyway, here's a few of her latest.

A couple of mornings ago, we had a firetruck visit our little house. (Long story short: malfunctioning CO detector). The firefighters were sweet enough to let the three big kids clamber around on the truck.  (They're now officially in love with fire trucks... and firefighters).

Later, Shaun mentioned that his uncle had posted a picture of Shaun and his cousin on a fire truck from when they were young. Then Shaun said, "Oh, and Michelle was in the picture too, but she's irrelevant."  Caly, who was snuggled up next to me and listening more than I thought she was, piped up,

"Aunt Michelle is NOT an ELEPHANT!"

Indeed she's not!

This past weekend, Lexi started golf lessons through First Tee which leaves the boys here to nap and Caly here to have one on one time with Mommy.  She was messing around with Legos and I decided to finish watching the final episode of the shall-not-be-named teen drama show that I got completely sucked into.  (I know, I KNOW).  She came over and nuzzled up during the final 3 minutes.  The only thing that was left to watch was the final gymnastics meet, full of the fun camera angles and dramatic music so when she asked if she could watch too, I agreed. 

Each time the gymnasts flipped across the screen, Caly would fling her arms and legs in the air and proclaim that her move was just like their move.  "See, Mama? See?  I have cool moves too!"

The show ended with a glowing victory for the main characters and I turned it off.  Caly proceeded to jump on top the ottoman.  I asked what she was up to and she said, "I'm gonna do my own gymnastics show!"

So I started to gather the laundry to put away.  But then I stopped when I heard her start talking.

She flung her hands in the air and said, "I just don't think I can do it! I don't know if I can be good enough!"  Then she tipped her head to what I could only assume was her imaginary coach and said, "Do you believe in me?  You do?!  Then I can do it!"  And she shoved her hands back in the air, jumped and contorted her legs in some weird shape and fell on her stomach.  Immediately, she shot up and puffed her chest out, saying, "I did my move! I knew I could do it if you believed in me!" 

Uh.

Someone isn't allowed to watch teenage dramas ever with that stellar recall.

(The imitation was uncanny).

We got home from some miscellaneous errand and after I parked on the gravel portion of our driveway, I realized that she didn't have her shoes on so I told her to wait so I could carry her over the rocks.  Except, when I placed her on the paved part, I inadvertently plopped her heel right onto a sharp rock.

Tears ensued. 

I felt horrible.  I picked her up and told her I was sorry and then I said, "Oh Caly, I'm a bad Momma!"  She stopped crying and looked up at me and said, "No you're not!!" 

That'll carry me through more than a few rough days with that. 

She's my girl.

No Matter How Much Water, Flowers Won't Grow There

My kids are fascinated by the hose.

Or obsessed.

Of course, the hose is a fun way to stay cool in the summer. But it got to a point where I would leave the room and my middle two would beeline out the front door and turn on the hose. And then I'd find them and lose my mind at having to get them completely dressed again, (because inevitably, I would have just finished getting them dressed and ready to leave the house).

So I decided to indulge them while I unloaded the car after a recent vacation. The three big kids used the hose to create some elaborate waterfall/river system up on the front deck and steps. I unloaded the insane amount of luggage that 6 people take on a road trip for 3 days and started on getting the car clean. I filled one bag with trash, and filled a laundry basket with the miscellaneous nonsense that the kids accumulate in the car with every trip.

(SIDENOTE: Do all kids insist on taking their "Oh-but-mommy-it's-my-favorite-thing-ever," item into the car only to leave it there later? And then, obviously, they absolutely have to take the next must have toy into the car the next day? And then, you end up with a veritable toy store in your back seat. Am I the only one? Really?)

Anyway, I digress. So, I had actually found the mythical carpet on one side of the car and moved to the other. The kids were happily spashing through their water trails on the steps. As I stacked and sorted books in the basket from the back of the car, I heard Caly giddily exclaim, "Sayer is watering the car!" since my kids are obsess with car washing, I figured he was spraying the outside and continued my sorting.

(When will I ever learn not to assume?)

Moments later, Lexi yelled, "Mama! Sayer is watering IN your car!" I shot upright and peered in through the open sliding door on the drivers side of my van to catch sight of my 2 year old calmly holding the water hose In through his open sliding door over the carpet in front of his seat as water poured out.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" I yelled. I didn't know what to do first. So I made motions to get Sayer while exclaiming, "No, no, NO SAYER!" Confused, he lifted the hose and started backing up. Every step he made bounced the water further into the car. Finally, my brain turned on and I shouted to Lex to run and turn the hose off while I attempted to grab the renegade hose or its wielder.

She managed to turn it off and I tried to explain to my middle two that you're NEVER allowed to put water into your car. "I was a-washin' it, mama!" my 2 year old kept joyfully exclaiming, convinced he had helped. I still don't think we're on the same page.

But you can bet that I'm going to keep the hose obsession contained to the back yard while my car is open.

(After airing out for 3 days in 90 degree heat, the car dried for the most part. But it smelled like old gym socks. So I sprinkled baking soda all over the carpet, which drew out the moisture and most of the odor, but definitely hasn't come out of the carpet completely. My poor blue van will never be the same).