Give Me a Hand With This Quick Sand?

I often say I live in the Land of Quick Sand.

Allow me to explain.

Take cleaning, for example:

I clean room A, then move on to clean room B.

As I clean room B, room A is being trashed by my lovely children.

Not just cluttered--that's different. That is stuff.

I'm talking dirty--crumbs that need vacuumed, grimy fingerprints that have to be washed off.

"Dirty" requires more work than "cluttered."

As I clean room A, again, room B is in the process of being trashed.

Simply put, rooms C, D, E ... and so on, never get attention. Ever.

I just shut the door to those rooms and find a happy place--a place where there is no such thing as quick sand.

Take leaving, as another example:

My children are still at that age where they have attachments to things. With my son, it's Mr. Bear.

I think we can all agree he is well loved.

***Take it from me, this is Mr. Bear's good side. If you saw his back, you'd think he was a means and/or victim of biological or chemical warfare. And that's being kind.***

With my daughter it's her blankie which she affectionately calls Gee Gee.

Before I go anywhere, I have to make sure diaper bags are packed, changes of clothes are accounted for, Mr. Bear and Gee Gee are attached to their respective child, and the multiple items that are never needed (unless they've been forgotten) are laid out ... ready to go.

... and we're off like a herd of turtles.

BUT ... it never fails.

As I pack the diaper bags, the kids are unpacking them, scattering the contents around the house--including rooms C, D, E , and so on --the disaster areas that were just scoured in a desperate attempt to find the things to begin with!

This ultimately results in:

• being late
• leaving unprepared
• OR (as was the case the other day) late AND unprepared AND having to turn around and backtrack 25 minutes for these forgotten security items:

... making us even later.

See what I mean?

Quick sand!

(I just know all of you germ conscious moms out there are cringing at the sight of these "lovies." But hold the antibacterial gel! Mr. Bear, especially, will not survive a good washing. So I just keep telling myself they are boosting their immune systems, as they are rarely sick. )

If You Let a Kid Get Sleep Deprived, You Get What You Deserve!

We recently partook in a weekend getaway. As a family.

... Note to self: Start a new archive for As a Family posts ...

For the most part, the kids were excellent. However, I would be remiss if I didn't point out that by Saturday afternoon the sheer exhaustion of swimming, late nights and no naps had possessed them.

Truly.

Picture their heads spinning and green goop pouring out their mouths like the exorcist.

Michael in particular, and he is never the wild card.

We actually had to leave a restaurant.

No.

Not hurry-and-eat-and-beg-for-the-check-so-we-can-get-the-heck-outta-there kind of leaving. I mean ... CANCEL THE ORDER ... SEE YA LATER ... if we stay here much longer it's Armageddon -- for everyone. That kind of leaving.

We went through the drive thru.

We went back to the hotel.

And all the way ... it was silent.

That kind of scared silent I remember so well as a kid. Where you sit back and act angelic hoping the parents will change their mind about the impending doom.

We didn't.

And we usually do.

But when you are trying to redirect your four year old's behavior in public and they take a little blue crayon and break it.

Right in your face.

On purpose.

You're just not getting over that any time soon.

After a little "Come to Jesus" moment with daddy, Michael skulked out of the bathroom and sat with me on the balcony.

He looked up at me and with all the seriousness his little four year face could muster he said,

"I'm bustin' out of this place."

Heh.

Within minutes he was sound asleep--they ALL were sound asleep. Even daddy.

*shrug*

So I busted out to the pool.

After a good nap, he was back to his sweet little self. He even picked me a flower (albeit illegally) at Epcot.

Love my little man.

Because Preparation is Key

My former profession being teaching, I am neurotic when it comes to education. This may or may not bode well for my children.

That is yet to be seen.

I immediately have flashbacks of vacations out west with my family while my parents gave us kids extensive geology lessons and tirelessly corrected our grammar. My sister and I would groan at every turn. "Does EVERYTHING have to be educational???"

What can I say? They're BOTH PhD's.

Perhaps it's the reason why at age 11 I was muttering phrases like "The body secretions of these homo sapiens makes me want to regurgitate."

Granted, there are an inordinate number of foreigners in those national parks, but ... homo sapiens?

That is a true story.

That is a sad story.

That is the story that explains why my kids will probably never just "go on vacation" without the educational twist, either.

And keeping with the family tradition, I am working hard to prep my kids for the fast tracked journey of knowledge.

My oldest will enter kindergarten one year from now. Since we have opted out of PreK I have taken the responsibility upon myself to prepare him. Last year, he learned his letters and their sounds. This year he's learning to write them. (as well as his name)

My daughter is one year younger, so she is in the phase of learning the letters and their sounds.

This is how I do it.

I make signs with very rudimentary pictures and post them in high traffic areas of the house.

It makes for some beautiful decor, let me tell ya.

But throughout the course of the day, I point to the letter, and have her tell the name of the letter and the sound it makes.

(It's a great tip I borrowed from a teacher friend of mine.)

We started "A" this week, and will add one new letter each Monday.

It works for me!

This was posted in association with Works For Me Wednesdays. For more helpful tips visit wearethatfamily.com

I'll Take the Crow, Well-Done.

I saw it all in a vision:

The 4 hour drive in the car was excruciating as all three kids bounced between bouts of subtle whining and earsplitting shrieks. "He's pulling my HAIR!!!! She's not sharing the LEAPSTER!!! I know I just peed, but I have to again!!!" All to the score of a howling baby.

The minute we walked in the door of our dear friends' home we began the Herculean challenge of unloading all that we had managed to squeeze in our Highlander. The flotsam and jetsam of baby gear and portable child-entertainment.

Soon after virtually moving in, and confronting the kids with their very first baby sitter, the soundtrack of the car ride TO Jacksonville suddenly seemed soothing by comparison. "DON'T LEAVE ME!!!!!" We and our friends made scrambled dashes for the car, and I spent the rest of the evening at a Kenny Chesney concert where the ringing in my ears from the day's events drowned out even the enormous swells of music filling the arena.

The following two days were spent on pins and needles as I frantically ran around after my kids trying to prevent them breaking valuables, and destroying our friendships.

By the time we left for home, I knew one our dearest friendships had gone the way of holy underwear ... trashed. Never to be given a second chance. Ever.

The four hour ride back was silent with sleep.

Oh, I get it.

NOW you're calm.

Fear gripped me and I nearly had a panic attack:

WE CANNOT GO!!!!! THEY WILL HATE US!!!! WAAA WAAA WAAA!!!!!

In retrospect, the hissy fit I pitched in front of my husband, in response to that vision can only be compared to one other moment in my life where I threw a full-on temper tantrum, in the middle of a store, over a pair of shoes.

I was 29.

It was not my proudest moment.

But guess what?

I was wrong.

About everything. (Except the amount of stuff stuffed into the car.)

Our drive up was wonderful! The kids were great!

They took to the babysitter with ease!

And our friends were so wonderful, they opened their home to us and completely understood and (maybe) even expected the kids to destroy it!

The concert was wonderful.

We took a trip to an old fort on Amelia Island.

We spent a lovely evening at home while we grilled steaks and played with the kids.

And then we drove home. Friendships in tact, and beaming proud of our kids.

I guess you could say Crow never tasted so good.

Goodbye to Summer

My world of relationships is filled with teachers. And yet, the fact that I am a former teacher, myself, has nothing to do with that at all. My best friend, my aunt, cousins, and countless acquaintences are all teachers ... and my parents teach college. That being said, my summers are FUUUUUUN!

Those of us, with wide open schedules, get together nearly every other day for some sort of something and it beats the heck out of sitting home.

With summer coming to a close, my friend Missy, my sis Mandi and I decided to have one last hoorah with the kids ... and took them to Orlando.

To stay in one hotel room.

Five kids.

One baby.

And us.

Yes we are (as we say in the South) crazy as a Betsy Bug! (I have no idea what that it, really.)

After a day of swimming, an evening at Downtown Disney and a night of some of the most brutal pillow fighting known to mankind, we counted ourselves among the bravest in the world.

The girls soaking up the rays, and reading Twilight.

Me, in the shade with the baby. Waiting on my mom to get out of her meeting and come pick him up.

(Yes, they are standing in the booth at the restaurant ... feeling the water raining down in the Rainforest Cafe. I am pretty sure restaurants hate to see us coming.)

We are survivors.

We comforted ourselves with Baskin Robbins.

What can I say? It beats smoke'n and drink'n.

And now everyone is off to school ... and I am at home, relishing the opportunity to play school with my little ones and dreading next year, when I buy Michael's school supplies for the first time.

Twilight

I am sort of a literary snob.

And that's not a good thing.

It's a curse that comes along with that B.A. in English. (I'm almost certain that in fine print, on the back of my college diploma, you'll find the words: "Congratulations. You are now ruined for pleasurable reading for the rest of your life.")

When I read, I naturally look for symbolism, cryptic messages, underlying themes, artistically yet brilliantly constructed sentences ... and I edit.

See what I mean? Curse it all!

For months, I have heard and tuned out all the chatter concerning the Twilight series. I don't know ... a teenage love story about vampires and werewolves just seemed a little too hokey-pokey. Give me Shakespeare, keep your creepy little vampire puppy love.

After reading Facebook updates and Tweets, and listening to family, friends and perfect strangers all gushing about Edward the vampire and the amazing story therein, I caved. I borrowed the phenomenon from my sis and got busy.

I read book one in a day and a half. I have to take breaks ... I have toddlers.

I picked up book two the next day while the kiddos were napping and sort of forgot I have toddlers. (Matt actually came home to a filthy house, kids who had been engrossed in video games for about 4 hours straight, and then commenced to making us all dinner, because -- well, I just couldn't.)

Read book three on the way to and from Jacksonville.

FORCED myself to take it easy with book four. (I mean, like I said ... I have a family.)

Two thousand, five hundred and seventeen pages later, I am finished.

Review?

It did not change my life.

It did not inspire me.

It did not teach me much I didn't already know.

But it entertained me.

TRULY entertained me. And sometimes, when you're pulled in a thousand different directions, and you're troubled by all you see on tv, and you're dealing with the stresses of bills and schedules and runny noses and all other things outside of your control, you just want to sit down for a few hours of pure fun. That's what the series was to me. An escape from the real world I love so much, but from which I need that occasional vacation.

For that ... from me ... it comes highly recommended.

Move over, Versace!

They say true fashion genius lies in the willingness to take risks.

Check out Madeline's latest unique accessory.

Yeah, that's a curler.

She finds them in all colors, chooses one that matches her wardrobe choice, and sticks it right on top of her head.

I do hope Michael Kors is reading this.

I think my daughter is on the cutting edge in her quest for original fashion statements.

What do you think?

Is it me?

Disney Cruise May 2009

Sorry it took so long to post the video from Michael's Disney Cruise with Grandma! It's been a BUSY summer and I'm completely behind on blog posts. I'll spend the next couple of weeks catching up, and be back to a more normal pace of posting.

Bad Boys

So Madeline was on her little pink Barbie cell phone.

And her pretend conversation seemed a bit intense for a 3 year old.

Matt asked her who she was talking to.

It's usually Cinderella ... and man, do they gossip!

But it was not Cinderella.

"It's my boyfriend." she said.

"Well, who is that?" asked her disgruntled father.

"It's Venom and Lizard Man." (villains from Spider Man)

Apparently she's a two-timer ... with an affinity for bad boys.

Dear Jesus, PLEASE don't let this be a glimpse into my future!