Things I Love/Penance.

I go into writing this post with my head sunk low. There is a little known secret about me that only those who have actually ever lived with me know.

And that is???

I love potato chips. LUUUUV them.

(These are the chips I eat. My favorites. The kids call these "Mom's Chips" when they see them in the store. They are melt-in-your-mouth Amazing.)

I could eat an entire bag right here and now. I would, I could, it's been done. 

When Mark goes on a snack run, he doesn't even ask me what I want. He just knows. And the reason Mark is the one that goes on snack runs, is that I don't buy chips. Ever. If I buy them at the store, I am more than likely going to open them in the car and eat them on the way home. If a bag makes it home, it will be gone the next day.

No kidding.

I have so many stories about eating momentous quantities of junk  food, but I'll spare you. I mean, I eat my fruits and veggies, and I try extra hard to cook healthy foods for my family. But still, there are some guilty pleasures that can't be broken.

I like my coffee, I like my chips. Who doesn't?

I gave up chips for Lent. I've never done this before, and I'm thinking it's pretty courageous. I used to give up pop (diet coke) for Lent, but since I've long broken the habit of drinking pop as an afternoon pick-me-up, I thought pop was too easy.

And, since giving up coffee would be CA-RA-A-ZEE, chips it is.

This is my Lenten Penance. Along with some great reading (which I will share later...) this Lent is bound to improve my spiritual and physical health. ;-) .

Any takers want to share their Lenten penance?

Variations on a Theme.

The past two weeks have been interesting. All the three boys contracted a nasty chest cold that left them with fevers and coughing. All through the night the boys were waking from their coughs and needing medicine to reduce their fevers.

And then there's the baby. He was struck with his first double ear infection and antibiotics. He was, after all, worthy of the antibiotics since he had been sick for over a week and wasn't getting better.

Combine the sickness with daylight savings and....

....WHAM!!

NO SLEEP!

Between the coughs, fevers, and ear fluid causing infection, daylight savings caused an already sleep-deprived family to new levels of...well, depravity.

Last night was the kicker. The baby woke, as he does, and I fed him. Then, even though it was only 3am, I laid him back in his crib to hear a symphony of babbles, bubble blowing and growling. It went on, and on, and on. I did the only logical thing a mother in my situation could do, which was to nurse him to his heart's content until he fell asleep. The only problem is that nursing that much has a tendency to cause projectile spit-up and wet jammies and sheets.

You see the picture I'm painting, right?

Anyway, it was well after 5am before the baby was back sleeping. Half dreaming and half awake from the endless baby noises, I had the distinct thought that if a child were raised in the jungle as the famous Man Child was, he might, in fact, sound like the baby did last night. He does his fair amount of growling, after all.

My thoughts then wandered and I wondered, if a child were raised by a pack of wolves as opposed to a tiger, perhaps he might howl instead of growl. We hear about children who we suspect may have been raised by a pack of wolves, but I have yet to see any headlines. My baby growls, and my older two do have a tendency to behave like wild animals on occasion, but I'm afraid I have to bear (Ha! Pun!) the responsibility for that one.

Come on, boys, Pop Tarts for breakfast!

Grammar Boys.

I had a very positive college experience. However, one professor was a struggle. The only thing I ever learned from her was the a doctorate degree couldn't guarantee intelligence, but it could guarantee tenure. I don't mean to sound cruel, but it was really that bad.

Once, after giving a presentation that I had carefully planned for, this professor singled me out to go on a diatribe about grammar. Apparently I had misspoken and had failed to use an adverb during my presentation. Although I can't remember the exact context, I imagine that I said something along the lines of, "After rigorous intervention in phonetical awareness, the student continued to perform poor on benchmark exams."

This omission dropped my score an entire letter grade. The professor pointed out that correct adverb use was being lost in schools and  speaking language. Who knew? Perhaps out of pride or resentment, after that presentation I went on an adverb extravaganza, using adverbs whenever I could, and then teaching my children, from their first words, correct adverb usage.

Maybe my professor taught me something after all? Hum...jury's still out.

"Mom, I hurt my leg bad."
"Badly!"

"Dad, you did that awesome!"
"Awesomely!"

"Mal, you sang pretty."
"Prettily!!!!!"

This morning my two year old had a tummy ache. He crawled on my lap and wrapped his arms around me. Then he pointed to his tummy and said, "It hurts so badly."

Maybe adverb use isn't becoming obsolete after all. ;-)

Salute!

Did any of you, after moving to your first place on your own, ever come to the realization that you "had arrived." You know, like realizing that after three days with the same dirty dishes in the sink that the someone who was going to have to wash them was you? That the piles of laundry growing up in weren't, in fact, folded by the Folding Fairy, but by someone who had a vested interest in the maintenance of the home?

I've had many such moments in the past six years, some of them were rough; others laughable. Then, after a while, they didn't even phase me. Growing up, when your mother diligently cleaned the dog vomit off of the carpet, or the dirty diaper that the baby managed to smear all over the crib, it's not that she was particularly fond of doing these tasks, but that she was so accustomed to doing such things that not much phased her by then.

Truly, I am convinced that in the "arrived" category, that after six years, I cannot be shocked. Yes, I cried the first time I had to nurse a baby while sick in the bathroom, but by the time I two kids and was sick while nursing in the bathroom, instead of crying, I was just thankful that the three year old was keeping himself busy by racing his cars on the bathroom floor.

I think back to college when I would get irritated that I was spending my money on things like deodorant and toothpaste instead of new shoes. Today I'd much rather spend money on those things than water softener pellets or toilet cleaner.

Growing up is tough stuff. And really, as much as a person might be prepared for it, the shocking realization that you have a lot to care of besides yourself inevitably makes a person either grow up, or stop trying.

So, on this Friday, here's to Moms! If you have letter magnets on your fridge and a Blue's Clues bath mat on your bathtub, I salute you! If you're digging peanut butter out of the cracks in the kitchen table and scraping dried oatmeal off the walls, I salute you! If you do laundry every stinkin' day of the week, I salute you!

If you have nursed a baby in the bathroom, at a truck stop, or in a bar, I salute you!

We have arrived.

Overheard.

Luke-isms

"Mom, did you know that some paleontologists have wives?"


"Mom, can I have Michael for my very own?"


"Mom, my wife is going to be more beautiful than you, and more beautiful than Paul's wife, too." 


"Mom, I wish that all kids and adults could do whatever they wanted all the time." 
"What would you wish to do, Luke?"
"I would eat treats all day long. And I would never get fat."




Have a nice day, everyone.

Post-Baby Workout.

I've made it no secret that I've put on momentous amounts of weight during my three pregnancies. While I was resigned to it during this pregnancy and knew what to expect, I can't help but be a bit impatient waiting for it to come off. Exercise is not important to me only to lose weight and tone my body, but I actually thrive when I am active. My anxiety seems to melt away along with the calories, and I find my head clearer. Indeed, a good walk on a bad day can turn me around in a heartbeat.

Since we're not in our suburb anymore and I'm not able to walk on the asphalt trails for pedestrians, nor am I able to maintain the hour long P90X workouts that my husband does, I've been doing Jillian Michaels 30-day Shred, which, I think, packs a decent workout in 20-30 minutes. At this point, 30 minutes is about all I'm able to commit to during the day with three boys.

The thing I've found most humorous with the Jillian Michaels' workouts is how apparent it is that she has never delivered a baby.

How do I know this, you wonder?

Well, because the workout goes a little something like this:
Jumping Jacks,
Butt Kicks,
Jump Rope,
Plank Jumps,
Plank Kicks,
Jumping Jacks,
Double Jumps,
High Knee,
Low Knee,
PEE!
PEE!!!!!
PEE!!!!!!!!

A Mouther.

I've called Poison Control a lot. Like...ten times? And seriously, I got so embarrassed about calling 911 to ask for Poison Control that the direct number not only made its way to the refrigerator, but on speed dial of my phone.

The funny part of this is that of the numerous times I've needed Poison Control, it's always the same child who has been the culprit, and wouldn't you know it, it's not the current difficult one.

Yes, Luke, our oldest, is what I'd like to call a "Mouther." A "Mouther" since birth, it wasn't uncommon that I would nurse him for two or three hours on end. I was always frantically picking objects off the floor knowing they'd end up in his mouth (or diaper), and there were many toys that while recommended for ages 3+, I knew that if the pieces fit in his mouth that they'd inevitably be in his mouth.

I imagine that most parents have called the Poison Center for common occurrences like their child eating the toothpaste (check!) or eating more than one vitamin (check!).

But, has your child eaten a dishwasher tablet (check!), or taken a bite out of your favorite Mr. Clean  Magic Eraser (check!)?

Has your four year old bitten through one of those fun glow-in-the-dark necklaces on the way home from a Halloween party and appear to be radioactive? (check!)

Our little woodchuck is soon to be five, and he still puts everything (EVERYTHING) in his mouth. It's not uncommon for us to remind him during the day to take his shoe out of his mouth, a block, to stop licking the doorknob, or to stop biting his toenails. I could go on, but you get the idea.

Maybe you have a child who has similar uncontrollable urges, say, to lick a dollar bill from the till at McDonlads. It's alright, I won't judge. I won't even make that grossed out germophobe face.

Promise.

I will probably laugh though.

Facebook Detox: Part 2

Nothing new to report on the Facebook front, except that I have had no temptation to return. In fact, there have been...ahem.... at least two people I know of for sure who have followed suit and deactivated shortly after my announcement.

I may not be on Facebook, but I have started and finished three new books since I quit, made popovers and a pound cake for the first time, knit a scarf, had multiple catch-up phone calls with friends, actually made plans to visit friends, read my boys more stories, added more structure to our day, reduced strain on my eyes, and have done all the pelvic rocking and tailer sitting necessary for a successful Bradley birth. Phew! Who knew I had that much time on my hands!

In other news, I also recently gave up my cell phone, and last week for the first time in my we have given up completely cable and satellite television. What am I going to do with myself?

Have I mentioned I starting sewing my own denim-homeschooling mom jumper?
Just kidding.

You can't nurse a baby in a jumper anyway.

;-)