Tread Lightly Around Toddlers

I keep stepping on magnetic letters and saying, "Arrr!  I'm about to just throw these things away!  They're always all over the floor instead of the fridge anyway!"
RJ is always willing to help his mama:  "RJ," he says.

RJ says "RJ" (pronounced Ah-Jah) in response to many things, and it always means a full and complete sentence and changes according to the voice he uses.

-During fireworks, in a whiny voice, it means, "I'm scared.  Hold me mom!" (aaaah-jaaaaah)
-If his brother tries to take his toy, it's a stern voice, obviously meaning, "That's mine!  Back off brother!" (AH-JAH!!!)  **This also applies if the toy doesn't belong to him because we have trained him as such, always saying, "He's the baby.  Just give it to him."  Something we are really going to pay the price for someday, either by intensive retraining or monetarily giving him everything he desires.**
It will obviously be the first option since we don't want to raise a douche.  Just saying.
-If he has something his brothers don't have, it's in a sing-song voice.  Leo:  "Why does RJ have Kool Aid?" (aaaahhhh-jaaaaHHH)

So, back to RJ being the helpful little cutie that he is, he says, "RJ!" which obviously meant, "You need help, Ma?  I got this."

And he starts throwing all of the magnetic letters into the trash.
"No, no!  Put them back on the fridge!"
"Why?" he asks.
I understand his confusion as they will be back on the floor later this afternoon.

As a parent (or a sibling or an aunt or a dog) who lives with children (or even visits children on a sporadic basis, at best) you KNOW what it's like to step on Legos.  Or Hot Wheels.  Or that time I stepped on a plastic ring -- the kind that come on the tops of cupcakes for different holidays.  You know?  The kind that are now banned from coming into our house?  Yeah, those.  It was a leprechaun one left over from St. Patrick's Day.

I knew those things were evil when Melissa Bruder and I watched the movie back in 1993.

So I step on this ring and the part of the ring that goes around your finger (the ring part of the ring?) breaks.  And what happens, you ask?  The rest of that ring makes a hole in the heel of my foot and decides to invade my flesh.  It was around a quarter of an inch long.  Yes, I measured.  Why?  Is that weird?  Since it is curved in shape, when I tried to pull it out, I was met with resistance.  I hobbled outside and called for my neighbor's help and she came to my rescue, pulling out the green bastard that tried to take me down.

Nothing a lil duct tape band aid couldn't fix.

Or how about another thing that has graced all of our floors?  I'm talking about poop.  As Elmo's Potty Time has taught my toddler, poop is a thing of many names:  dookie, Number 2, caca, etc.  However, I'm pretty sure that this is the only thing RJ has learned from his Elmo and all of his toilet wisdom.  This is what happened just the other day:

RJ comes running through the house to sit on his frog potty.
He says, "Poop!"
Much excitement from me, "Are you going poop???"  (Yes!!!  Fantastic, I think!)
*insert here a little dream about being a diaper-free household*
He smiles.
"Floor," he says.
*squash dream here*
"Floor what?" I ask.
"Poop.  Floor."
"What?"
He points.
*now imagine me running around the house, more or less in a cautious fashion, looking for dookie, Number 2, caca, etc. on my floor somewhere.*
I want to scream at him, "Learn to say the name of a room...  Where the hell is the poop at???"

But I'm too busy running around with cleaning supplies in my hand.

I find said turd next to the toy box.  Since this incident, if you ask my child where Elmo goes pee, he answers "toilet", but if you ask him where Elmo goes poop, he says "floor".  I tell him that you can't go poop on the floor and he asks me why?

"Because then there's poop on the floor!"

And you know mommy is going to be the one to step on it...

Awwwwwkward!

Awkward moments are a part of life.  When children are involved, they tend to multiply.  When MY children are involved...

Well, let's just say that those awkward photo posts that get passed around pale in comparison.  You know the ones that show a bunch of Walmart shoppers in see-through pants?  Or the maternity ones that have a pregnant wife naked and covering her breasts while her hubby holds a gun?  I could go on but the point is moot because I already warned you.

Pales.

So we're in the restroom at hell's gate -- oh, I'm sorry.  What I meant to say was Chuck E. Cheese's.  

That was an honest mistake, really.  

It could happen to anyone that ran around chasing after who they thought was their kid for the last half an hour, only to find out that your child is the one wading around in the only water game in the entire building. 

Or maybe it's because your other child was hiding inside the basketball game under the net, screaming bloody murder because a deranged looking rat is trying to get him to follow him around (and haven't we all taught our kids not to follow and accept things from strangers?  Well, "strangers" is kind of a lose term that excludes Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and anyone's house that lay in your path on Halloween night...)  It could be because you just attended a "rock 'n roll" concert involving --  oh, who cares.  That crap is NOT rock 'n roll. Although it could cause severe ear damage.  It made me want to do what Gavin does when he asks to play phone games.  

"Mom, can I play phone games?"  Immediately covers ears.

"No," I answered.

"Oh, I thought you were going to yell at me for asking again."  

Now, that's smart.  One day, I heard that question just 37 too many times and I freaked out.  He learned his lesson and covers his ears, avoiding what could be a disaster.

Why can't this logic be applied to this "awesome" place we're regular patrons of?  Weren't you the one hiding under that basketball net?  Use your brain, son.  Times like these can be avoided!

Anyway, back to the point.  We're in the restroom at "the place that will not be mentioned" and a woman comes in talking on her cell phone.  This actually really bothers me, but RJ is a toddler.  Toddlers are little ego-maniacs, and he just LOVED that this woman kept talking to him.  

She says, "Hi." 

RJ replies with a silent wave.  

This is as effective as when he talks on the phone and tries to show people his stuff...  or feed them his sandwich.

I guess the signal was bad in the area that I would run to in case of a tornado, so then the woman says, "Can you hear me now?" 

And my child yells, "YEAH!!!"

Luckily, he got sidetracked at this point when he heard his echo. 

I'm fairly certain you know what happened next.  

After the sound checks were properly administered, we returned to that fun place we were at.  I was half hoping that we would step out and be greeted by adorable little people and a nasty shoe-stealing which. Unfortunately, we were greeted by only the little people.  About 800 of them being my rough estimate.  Isn't there a fire code they should be following???

These kind of special bathroom moments aren't just reserved for the places where "a kid can be a kid."  

They happen at federal buildings: 

"Mom, do you pee out your BUTT???"

And they happen at home: 

Hubby:  "What happened to your shorts?"

Me, aggressively:  "You want to know what happened to my shorts?"

Hubby:  "Probably not, now that you said it that way."

Me:  "Well, while I was administering a shower to one of our children, one of our other children came up while I was kind of standing and lifted up the toilet seat to pee.  Then I sat back down where I was sitting, only this time my butt went into the toilet and your child was then peeing on me.  And that's what happened to my shorts."

It's okay, though.  I like to look on the bright side of things.  That could have easily happened at Chuck E. Cheese's with all of the tiny crazed and deranged humans running around there.  

As a friend of a friend so eloquently put it:

I'm pretty sure they freebased sugar.

I thought this illustration was spot-on, and I would have loved meeting her at the birthday party we both attended.  

I was really busy, though. 

Chasing after someone else's kid.

  

The Subjective Subjects of Kindergarten

When I picked the kids up from school today, after pressing snooze on my alarm (that indicated that not only had I fallen asleep while putting the baby down, but that I had managed to accomplish absolutely nothing all day), they had some FANTASTIC things to tell me.

DISCLAIMER:  Fantastic things to kindergarteners are a very different kind of idea that includes, but is not limited to:  bugs, squished bugs, dried bugs, liquids or solids (or liquids that should be solids) that exit the body, milk spraying out of the nose (accidental or on purpose -- a feat my boys are currently working to perfect), clowns (even the very creepy ones), hitting, kicking, punching, general mayhem, boogers, the word "butt" in any language (even the one with only one T), and learning to read.

Learning to read is obviously an amazing thing (otherwise I wouldn't be capable of bringing you such intelligent content on a semi-yearly basis when it strikes my fancy to sit down at the computer and do something that a handful of people find productive) so I am on board with this being in the list.  I just don't know exactly where it fits in with all the other things in the list.

Unless it was a milk-proof book about clowns squishing bugs containing the word "butt" on every page in a multilingual fashion that could later be inserted on the hand to use as a boxing glove, or something of the sorts.

DISCLAIMER:  Please don't feel the need to actually make my children a book like this because it will get "lost" very soon after the present is opened.  Although if you want to find yourself the infamous subject of a semi-annual, sort of productive blog someday...

Anyway, back to the subjective subject at hand:  "fantastic" things.

Once I got over that I-took-a-three-hour-nap-in-the-middle-of-the-day nausea feeling, I was ready to listen.

Until I heard what it was about.
And I heard it loud.
And I heard it clear.

"We had a practice fire drill today," Gavin said, innocently.

"It went like this:  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"
Leonardo pipes up, because he is always ready for an obnoxious challenge, "No, no, no.  It was more like this:  EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEE"

Don't mind me, I'm thinking, while my eyes are aggressively blinking in defense of my brain.
I'm only driving a car.  No big deal.

Gavin:  Maybe it was like, SKKKKIIIIIIII-SKKKKIIIIIII-SKKKKIIIIIIII-SKKKKIIIIIII
Leonardo:  SQQQUUUUEEEEEEK-SQQQUUUUEEEEEEK-SQQQUUUUEEEEEEK
RJ:  eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee
Me:  Oh, that is NOT EVEN true, RJ!  You don't even go to school yet!

Completely inaccurate, I think, shaking my head...  and trying to imagine what the alarm sounded like at my school when I was little.  Not that anyone would listen to me if I tried to correct them.

After all, who knows alarms better than a mother of boys?

So when we make it home, Gavin is SO EXCITED about something he has in his folder from school:
 "I got a reminder in my bag, Mom!  A reminder!  I can't wait for you to read it!"
"Oh, really?  That sounds terrific!"
"It is!  Can we get it out now?"

*sigh* Always so eager for the fun to begin.

"No, no.  Let me get your snack and do what I need to do.  Then we'll sit down together so we can pull out your folder and really have time to enjoy looking through it together."

*Snack*

*Other stuff, hastily done because of the aforementioned less-than-productive afternoon*

"Okay, Gav!  I'm all ready to sit down and see all the great things you have in your school folder."
He's beyond ready, sitting poised with his big smile.

He starts by handing me the little yellow paper with the word "REMINDER" on the top.

Your child's meal account has a negative balance of ___8___ dollars

They should really speed up this whole "learning to read" thing.  It's on the list!  Don't the kindergarten teachers know about the list???

Thanksgiving: It's the Breast!

With the big boys off school this week for the Thanksgiving holiday, not only are they missing out on valuable information: 

Leonardo:  My teacher says you shouldn't put tape over your eyes because it's dangerous.

But we're also missing out on those precious "me" hours that we have to ourselves...  Well, to ourselves with the baby, that is.  The boys attend school Monday - Thursday for 3.5 hours per day which is a nice transition before going to Kindergarten next year.  I was shocked when I received a call from the school yesterday asking me to come up there right away. 
Let me paint a picture for you by saying that I am:

disorganized
always running late
scatterbrained
constantly rolling my eyes

SCHOOL ADMINISTRATOR:  Raina, you're supposed to be here for a meeting right now.  We're waiting for you!
ME:  What?  I *stammering, looking for words* I have five kids right now.
SCHOOL:  Bring them.
ME:  Oh.  Okay, I guess we can walk.
SCHOOL:  Good.  We'll wait for you.
ME:  Oh *clearly disappointed* What's this about?  I don't -- Did I know about this?  *looking through stacks of papers now disorganized, racking my brain for any recollection, scatterbrained*
SCHOOL:  Hold on, please.  *lala la la la on hold*  Oh, I'm so sorry, Raina.  Yes, someone called the wrong parent so that's where the mix up was.  Sorry about that.  So we're just going to wait for you, and you get here as quick as you can.
ME:  Um, okay.  I'll be there in fifteen minutes.

So here I am, with my friend's two kids and my three.  The baby is sleeping, and I'm scrambling to get everyone ready and out the door so we can go to this "meeting" that I had no idea existed... and that's when IT happened.  Gavin was messing around in the kitchen and hit his head on the corner of the cabinet and flopped down onto the ground.  Naturally, without much of a flinch, I glance over to scold him, per usual, and I see that there is blood running down his face. 
I roll my eyes. 
After cleaning him up, I call the school to tell them that NOW I am on my way...
late.

So it's only reasonable that as we are walking up to the school, I imagine that I am in trouble.  I don't know if this goes back to elementary school where I never "worked up to my potential" or high school where I was less than desirable to be around.  Okay, that is a drastic understatement right there.  I was intolerable and always in the office, left to ponder why my vice principle owned so many sweater dresses.

It doesn't help that sweater dresses are totally back in style, a constant reminder of my youth. 

I get up to the school and they hand me an envelope with Gavin's name on it.  It's a Thanksgiving card for our family.  Inside are gift cards to the grocery store worth $125. 
I cried, mostly because I was not in trouble. 
They have some kind of partnership with another school and our family was one of the families they chose to benefit from this.  I believe I am much more inclined to attend the parent meetings now.  In all seriousness, though, I felt really blessed and really proud.  My children are amazing, and obviously have made some kind of impact on the adults at their school.
Don't get me wrong, they are bona fide crazy monkeys...  but pretty amazing as well.

I had already done my shopping for our feast, and would like to know if anyone has any guesses as to exactly how long a shopping trip takes when your son has the EXACT same conversation with EVERY person in the store.

GAVIN:  Are you having a Thanksgiving party like we are?
RANDOM SHOPPER:  many variations of the same answer, all being yes.  Although, one time a woman asked if she could come to ours, in which Gavin replied that she wasn't invited by his mom so the answer was no.
GAVIN:  *shock and awe every time* You are???

We made it through a very long and eventful evening at Walmart (and I mean evening) and we finally got to the checkout stand.  The bags are gathering, piling higher and higher in the cart until Rubens can reach one.  I had purchased a new bra from the clearance bin.  It was so cheap that I couldn't pass it up, but I'm referring to it as my "Just Kinda My Size" bra.  It's the kind that come in a box with a picture on the front of a very happy woman in her bra... As if wearing one is pleasant in any way.  I look over in time to see RJ giving the woman and her bra a look that is pure baby love.  He puts the box on his shoulder in a hug, and proceeds patting and rubbing what would be her back.  He envelopes her for quite a long time. 
I turned to the woman behind me and said:

He nurses.


So...  anyone know of a babysitter that takes Albertson's gift cards?

Wishing everyone a safe and blessed holiday tomorrow!!!

A History Lesson: the musical

As it's fast approaching, I will excitedly admit that Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays.  I love cooking the big feast and watching everyone fade away, one by one.  Years of experience has revealed that it is pretty unsafe to be washing sharp utensils while under the influence of turkey, so this year I plan on partaking in the nap portion of the day. 

I am also excited for the baby to be introduced to this kind of over-the-top gluttony now that he actually puts away a good amount of food.  I am anticipating at least a three hour nap out of him.  Then again, when have expectations actually gotten me anywhere when it comes to my children?  That is, unless I expect destruction, an injury, embarrassment, or a very affectionate hug (that in reality is one of the big boys trying to squeeze tight enough to injure me, so perhaps shouldn't even be in a separate category).

At this point, RJ can only say the words popcorn ("pop pop") and dog, neither of which I will be serving up this year...  but maybe I can teach him to make gobble sounds by Thursday. 

With the kids in preschool for the first time this year -- praise God they're getting a classroom setting before kindergarten comes! -- we were invited to school to take part in their celebrations for the upcoming holiday.  Leonardo and Gavin are in separate classrooms so we had them choose who would go to watch them perform, daddy or RJ and I.

*fighting over daddy for approximately two hours*

Leonardo chose me!  *ahem.  leave me to my delusions, will you?*

So the night before the festival, Leonardo is going on and on about the play they will perform and here is the conversation:

LEONARDO:  And we come in on a boat, and we see America.  And we go to America and we eat with all of our buddies!
GAVIN:  Oh, Leo.  What is America?
LEONARDO:  It's just for our play at school.
ME:  No, no, no, no, no, no, no!  America is where we live.
LEONARDO:  WHAT?  This is America?
ME:  Uh-huh.  Yes, it is.
LEONARDO:  *stretches his hands outward with his palms cupped, just stunned*  This is America!  This looks just like America!  Whoohooo!
GAVIN:  *smugly points at Leo*  See?  Told ya!

We're not really sure why, but lots of conversations in our house end with "See?  Told ya!"  Sometimes it's followed by "I know everything" but always, always, always the person that says it has had absolutely nothing to do with telling anyone anything up until that point...

The play that Leonardo's class performed made me cry.  I am a mom and these are my babies.  Well, one of them.  Whatever.  I just hope no one got me on video. 

Here is the dramatic performance, by Room 1:

the pilgrims come in on a ship and yell, WE SEE AMERICA!!!
the Indians, on land yell, WE SEE A SHIP!!!
WE SEE AMERICA!
WE SEE A SHIP!
the pilgrims land and yell, WE'RE HUNGRY!  WE DON'T FEEL GOOD!
the Indians have a solution, COME FEAST WITH US!

aaaaaand, scene!

Then there was music.  Fortunately, I got to pop over to Gavin's class and see him as well.  In total, over the last 24 hours I have heard the following performed privately and in public:

1 little, 2 little, 3 little Indians (about 100 times) immediately followed by
1 little, 2 little, 3 little Pilgrims (rough estimate of 72) IMMEDIATELY followed by
1 little, 2 little, 3 little turkeys (feels like a million) followed by
1 little, 2 little, 3 little insert any word here, including ones that do not exist.  Do NOT question the validity of the word because the explanation will be more singing of the song, until you admit that you finally understand it.  Make sure you use the "light bulb" expression or this plan will FAIL.
followed by Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. 

Now, in my head I have already decided that Twinkle, Twinkle is being sang to represent the Indians and their strong bond and spiritual connection with nature.  And after the accuracy of the play, I'm pretty sure we can all agree on this symbolism. 

If you don't agree, you're more than welcome to ask my children what it means...

Preschool Knowledge: they don't process the "grain of salt" part.

Kids KNOW things.  They know everything that is said, everything that was done (or not done), and they usually know the things you're keeping from them, even if it's for their own protection.  I generally believe that my children know a lot, with the exception of what they're getting for Christmas.  They would have a much better grasp of this if they would refrain from asking for absolutely e-ver-y-thing they see on television, hear on the radio, observe in the world, see an advertisement for, believe is on any kind of list (including recalls), or (and this is the best) stuff they have completely made up and doesn't actually exist.

*child knowledge* Leonardo discussing Christianity at the dinner table last night:  *puts his hands out to the sides*  This is what Jesus was like when he been hanged up.

Most of the time, I am the kind of mother who wants to help my kids understand the world around them.  I will be the first to admit that I am a little naive, sometimes believing my children can grasp something that is way beyond their ability to comprehend, but I'm right there trying to explain it in a hundred different ways.  On the other hand, I sometimes believe they "got it" and am jolted back to reality when I witness how very wrong I am. 

Yes, sometimes I am wrong.  <------ for my husband, who sometimes thinks I'm wrong.

When I was pregnant with RJ, the big boys were three.  Actually, they turned three during my second trimester.  As you can imagine, they had tons of questions about having babies.  Mostly, they thought we should have twins again.  I cannot tell you how happy it makes me that these decisions are not left up to my children.  The next big topic was how.  How is the baby going to go from inside mommy to living here in our house? 

So I did what any abnormal parent would do and showed them a You Tube video of a cesarean section. 

Duh.

From my point of view, this went great!  They loved the video, asked questions, and went about their merry way...  well, that's what Naive Raina believed.

*queue Sponge Bob narrator voice* 
Three days later...

Rodrigo and I are in our room and I hear Leonardo freaking out.  I mean f-r-e-a-k-ing out hysterical screaming -- the kind that a mother hears and runs as fast as she can, holding her cell, her finger paused on the 9, expecting to have to call an ambulance.

What I find is Gavin, looking like Johnny out of The Shining, walking towards Leonardo with a huge knife in his hand (I want to note right here that this would be the exact day that our knives moved from their own special drawer to a land far, far away, never to be seen by little boys again...)  Here is my exact first thought:  Oh no!  Gavin's nuts!

So I take the knife away, calm Leonardo down, and praise God that no one was hurt.  Then we sit down to chat.

ME:  Gavin, you can't play with knives.  It's very dangerous.  You scared Leonardo.  Leo, tell him you're scared.
LEONARDO:  You scared me.  And I was screaming, and you were coming with a big knife and I yelled and Mommy came out.  Phew.
ME:  You could have severely injured your brother, or even killed him.  You don't want to hurt your brother, do you?
GAVIN:  *acts like I am crazy*  No, no, no, Mom!  *laughing*  I wasn't going to hurt him.  I was just going to cut out his baby!
ME:  Okay.  Mommy will be right back, and we'll talk about this some more.

*inner thought*
Crap.

Sometimes it's what you DIDN'T do that makes the day memorable...

I pretty much feel that I'm a good mom most of the time.  I try to do a lot of things for my kids to make their life enjoyable.  I feed them food.  I water them.  I talk to them.  They are like little plants that started out needing a bunch of attention and now they are adapting to their environment and figuring out what kind of tree to become.  All right, all right.  I know that little seedlings don't actually get to pick what kind of tree they will become, but I also know that I don't "water" my children.  This is a blog, so just roll with it.

As I was saying...

I have been trying to get back into shape recently and the big boys go to school just a 1/2 mile up the street.  We have been walking to school, and today I decided to walk them home from school as well.  Super-healthy-decision-making mama, right? 

Please tell me how a fifteen minute walk can go so very wrong!

What happened first was I walked through this ginormous spider web that I could not shake off of my body.  Once I did get rid of it, I began pushing the stroller only to find the owner of said web in an eye-to-eye stare down with the baby.  Personally, I think the baby would've won for the mere fact that he will eat anything that resembles candy.  This spider was bright orange and with RJ's recent discovery of Halloween, there is no doubt who would have won.  However, what goes in baby must come out of baby, and I would end up the ultimate loser in this situation. 

Normally I'm okay with putting things off until tomorrow, but spider poop is not one of these things.

I did what any mother would do in the parking lot of their children's preschool.  I threw my arms up in the air, cursed very loudly at the spider, and flicked him with my cell phone.  Then I exploited him by taking approximately fifteen pictures so I could comb through them later and find the most flattering one to post on Facebook.  I am a woman, after all, and I understand the necessity of a picture capturing one's "good" side. 

It's the least I could do after assaulting the thing with an iPhone...  iPhone's are HUGE! 

I have to say that I was super bummed about two things here: 
(1) normally we walk with Leonardo's best buddy from school, whom he chooses to refer to as his "girlfriend" or his future wife, and her mom, Jen.  I was beside myself that they missed all of this excitement...
(2) why, oh why, didn't I take a picture of the stare down when I had the chance???  Do you know how many camping trips I'm going to have to drag my family on just to get another opportunity like this?  Tons. 

At this point I went on and on about how I could not believe the spider thing and how cool and exciting our walk was today... and then IT happened.

IT:  a catch-all term used for anything and everything that has to do with little monkey children when they do something over the top and absolutely UN-freaking-believable that has just made you, and every passerby, say "Wow.  I honestly did not see that coming..." 

In other words:  my house. 
Every.  Single.  Day.

It's just the beginning of rush hour at this time and there is a bit of traffic.  We live in a subdivision so there isn't MUCH traffic, but enough for what happened next to be quite embarASSing.  *NOTE:  pun very much intended*

For some reason *let's not examine this too closely because we would spend the rest of our lives trying to analyse the reasons my children do even a quarter of the things they decide to do on a daily basis* Leonardo thinks this would be a good time to hold the stroller and then make his body go limp.

It actually appears at this point that I am dragging my child down the sidewalk.
Downhill.

This is when many things simultaneously happened:
(1) Leonardo's pants came down around his ankles...
(2) I became very aware of how many cars were driving by...

*inner thought* 

"Hmmmm... Obviously I didn't make sure Leo put on underwear today..."

how very short-lived the spider's infamy was.