From my Kitchen Sink Part 2

We finally have our camera hooked up to our computer! This will allow me to show our daily lives as I tell about it! I have a lot of catching up to do (there were 400 pics on our camera!) so I will try to do a pic post a day. Warning - some are several months old!


For today:
This was our backyard adventure after all of the rain we had

Their collection of worms, leaves, and such - they said that they were making an aquarium! I love their imaginations!

Of course Jonathan and I stayed safely inside the kitchen and merely watched from the window. Brennan and Nicholas pleaded for us to join them; we however opted for the clean dry indoors!

Thank you John Paul!

I was going to write this entry on Monday, but, seeing as how there is a loveliness fair to celebrate this wonderful man, I will compose a few days earlier than planned!

Words alone cannot describe the impact that this wonderful man has had on our family's life! It is because of John Paul's holy example that I began my first step towards the Catholic Church. It was John Paul that was a decisive influence in my husband's young faith life. It was largely because of John Paul that we have our precious little Jonathan with us today. Let me explain...

I was raised in a Baptist church. The kind that taught most (if not all) Catholics were marching straight to hell. After all, the idol worship was intense, and Christ had been relegated to the backseat (or so I had been taught!). When I was 16, I was at a revival where we were learning about various cults and the problematic tenets of these faiths. Being the good little Baptist that I was, I went eagerly, desiring to learn as much as I could so that I may witness properly. Monday was the Mormon Church. Tuesday, the Jehovah's Witnesses. Wednesday, Seventh Day Adventist. Thursday, Atheists. Then Friday came along - Roman Catholic Church. I was surprised, as I had always believed that while some Catholic teachings were a bit problematic, as a whole they were still considered Christian.

The guest speaker that evening "enlightened" me to things that I had never heard. About Christ's having to "die again" at each and every Mass. About idol worship. And then he began to lay out the reasons why he believed the current pope (John Paul himself) to be the Antichrist. Now, I had watched John Paul throughout my life, all be it from a distance. The man just did not seem to live up to the billing of "Antichrist" at all! I went home and said something to my Mom, who flew into a rage. "Oh, don't believe that Michele." she said. "John Paul may have a few things wrong, like praying to Mary, but he is a great and holy man." Whew! That is just what I had thought all along! But this new revelation got me thinking, if this speaker was wrong about John Paul, what else was he wrong about? Was I being misled?

If such a great and holy man could be so misunderstood, there had to be a reason. I began studying a little about John Paul and his life. I was struck by his devotion to his faith in the midst of the persecutions of the Holocaust. I admired how he could remain so holy, yet so humble at the same time. He embodied Christ on Earth to me in a way that no other leading Baptist minister I knew ever had. How could someone so obviously close to God be so off when it came to the saints and other teachings of the Catholic church which I believed to be questionable? I decided to look into these further. This research is what led me away from the Baptist church and straight to the Catholic faith.

John Paul was also a profound influence on my husband's life. While my husband was raised in the Catholic faith, he was as most teens probably are in matters of faith - it was not number one in his life. Listening to John Paul at World Youth Day in Denver of 1993 changed that for him. He began to study and live the teachings of the church more deeply. John Paul was a shining example in my husband's life as he began to understand living a life of faith.

When John Paul passed away, I mourned with the rest of the world. I also wanted a concrete way to remember him. I was listening to Catholic radio, and someone had suggested that the best way to honor John Paul would be to open up to having another child, what with John Paul's influence on life issues. Now I had a 3, 2, and 5 month old. Until that moment, I believed that we had sufficient reason to practice NFP because of the three young boys, and my husband working full time and going to graduate school. We probably did. Besides, my baby was 5 months old - I couldn't even have another child at the moment if I wanted to! I would not have second guessed my reasons at all if it had not been the death of John Paul. But now the thought of "just being open" tugged at my heart and I struggled with what to do. I prayed that God would show us.

We remained ambivalent enough to allow more conservative NFP rules to fall by the wayside and a few months later I was pregnant with another boy. Hence, he was named Jonathan in honor of John Paul. I believe that John Paul also intercedes for our young family still today, encouraging us to stay true to that which is good and holy.

He did.

P.S. - John Paul also passed away on my birthday, making my birthday the Feast of John Paul II (upon his canonization). What another remarkable way personally to touch my life

Speaking of...

...throwing away drawings.

I feel guilty about this aspect of parenting. I still feel the maternal urge to keep every single lovingly crafted piece of art which my children make. Whenever I do throw something away, I make sure the boys are not around and I bury it at the bottom of a full trash can in order to hide my unspeakable crime. When will I get over this? I know how debilitating paper clutter is, yet I can still hear that little hurt voice saying "you threw my _____ away!".


Maybe when the storage boxes of art work that are in the attic become a fire hazard, maybe then I will change my tune!

Relaxing Afternoon

I had these plans. This week, we were going to get through another section of our Learning About Plants Science book. We were going to paint art reproductions. We would begin a new chapter book in the afternoons. And we would begin again with our Who Am I catechism program, which we have just not gotten around to completing as of late.

Then, life intervened. We had an unexpected (but always pleasant) visit from Granddad on Monday. The beautiful weather has kept us outdoors as much as possible. The only routine that we had kept so far this week was our "morning basics" - reading, writing, math. I was beginning to panic that we just weren't accomplishing any of our afternoon studies.

Then I looked at what we had done in those lazy afternoons. Spent rare time with Granddad. Collected various bugs and interesting leaves, twigs, and rocks. Watched our garden grow. Had several discussions about God, as the creator of all that we were enjoying. Oh, and we did start to read "House At Pooh Corner".

We haven't been missing out at all. We have been so immersed in learning that I didn't even realize it was happening! And that is a great place to be!

Why I Homeschool

Michelle shared her very thoughtful reasons for homeschooling today, so I just thought that I would share mine as well. And my reasons are varied. There are many little reasons (well, some are not so little).

First, I think that a main reason for the boom in homeschooling today is the shifted focus in our school systems. Once upon a time, the primary goal of the early grades was the three R's - reading, writing, and arithmetic. This is just not the case today. Our schools have been mandated by special interest groups to teach everything else under the sun - drug and sex education, social engineering, and "how to take the latest and greatest standardized test" (after all, don't we want some accountability!). As a result, those ever important 3 R's have been relegated to the back burner. This started in the late 80's, and we are seeing the spawn of this today in our young adults.

Along those same lines, I dislike putting very small children in the situation that we are encouraging too much peer approval. I have had many tell me that it would be better if they were around their peers 40 hours a week, because they would be teased for unacceptable behaviors. They would therefore stop those said behaviors. While I acknowledge that peer pressure can be positive, to me, the ends do not justify the means. I know that I don't want then to succumb to peer pressure in the later years, when it is more likely to be a negative influence about much bigger issues than assuring my 6 year old can sit quietly in his seat. I would rather not set in my kids' minds that peer approval is an important yardstick of morality - what a dangerous precedent when it comes to drugs and other teen issues! I would much rather they gain a healthy respect for authority, and learn those ever important moral dilemas from parents who love them unconditionally and respect them as images of God. And yet while these are certainly very important factors, they are not our primary reasons for homeschooling.

I disliked school in the early grades because I found it boring. I thought the drill of items that I already had down cold was tedious and would have loved to move at my own pace. As a former classroom teacher, I realize that this is not practical with 30 kids at different levels, with varied learning styles. Every education expert will be quick to inform you that IEPs (Individual Educational Plans) are the ideal for all children, but just not practical. So they are saved for those who are lagging. Yet as a homeschooling mother with an ideal teacher to student ratio (momentarily 1:4), I can easily meet each child where he is at in any given subject and use a curriculum that is complementary to his learning style. This is a tremendous help to the "less motivated" pupil. While I see this as a definite plus for homeschooling, this also is still not my main reason.

My main reason can be summed up with just a few letters - ADHD. You see, I have that Wiggly Willy as my oldest child. Now let me clarify that I believe that this can be a true diagnosis of a learning disability, and if this is the case, medication can be extremely beneficial to the student. Yet as a former classroom teacher, I also found these initials to be a cure all, a scapegoat for many other things, not the least of which was a lack of discipline, a teacher, who was overwhelmed with her task at hand (lots of kids), and just plain (normally) immature childish behavior.

My oldest means well, but he has trouble sitting still for very long. He has to constantly be directed back to his work. He takes quite a bit of one on one time from me, the teacher, in order to push him to complete his work. In short, he would drive a classroom teacher (with 25 other kids) absolutely bananas! I don't blame her! She has a lot that is expected of her, and I know that my son would not be making it any easier! The school system would tell me that the only solution for my Kindergartner is medication. I am just not willing to accept that at age 5-6. I would like to have a few more years to see if it is really ADHD, or simply boyish immaturity. In a few years, I feel that we will know.

So, in the mean time, I will put forth the extra effort that is required on my part to encourage my son to blossom educationally. Without hard feelings, or the teasing of always being in trouble. And without drugs.

Breaking Me In

I really love being a Mom of all boys. Sure they can be quite energetic and at times too curious for their own good, but nothing can add excitement to a perhaps otherwise dull life than a pack of little boys. After all, I had two brothers that I was responsible for growing up (we were latchkey kids in the summers and after school). If there is anything that my brothers taught me, it is that there is nothing more dangerous than one bored boy. Well, except maybe more than one bored boy together. And so, Cay Gibson's post today reminded me of a story that brought this lesson home to me. A story of boys and FIRE! (And no, Cay's incident is not like my mine except for the fire part. It just reminded me.)

I was 14, my brothers 12 and 9. It was August and the youth group at church was going on a canoe trip for 9th-12th graders that I desperately wanted to attend. I was looking forward to it all summer. As the week approached, my parents realized that my Dad would be at a conference in San Francisco that same week, which meant he couldn't come home from the office at lunch and at 5pm to check on my brothers. And with my Mom working a hospital job, she couldn't come home at all during her 12 hour shifts. Which meant, I had to be there to watch my brothers.

I was devastated, as only a hormonal teenage girl could be. I pleaded with my parents, arguing that my brothers would be fine, after all, I was 11 when I started watching them by myself all day - Bryan was 12! I was angry, how could I be such a slave to them, good for nothing but to watch my brothers while they worked (see, told you I was hormonal!). I cried and cried, and thought how unfair I was to be saddled with such a burden, when none of my friends had to be stuck watching siblings all summer.

The very first day my Dad was gone, my tantrum had turned to sulking. Could my brothers cook and make a mess in the kitchen? "Sure, what did I care - that would serve my Mom right for putting me through this!", I thought. I pretty much sat in my room or my parents room and sulked for the better part of that day. I was determined that I would not allow anything to cheer me up.

You know, that is always when things have a way of happening!

I still remember clearly - it was 5pm and Mom was due home at 7pm. I was sitting in my parents room, sulking (of course) and I had no idea what my brothers were up to. What did I care! Then Philip, my 9 year old brother comes screaming into the bedroom "My leg's on fire!". I look up to see bluish flames leaping from his shin. I took him to the master bath and ran cool water over his leg, at which he says "Oh, and the other toilet is on fire."

I walk in, expecting to see a flame about the size of a dollar bill, only to find the entire toilet engulfed in flames! My other brother was in shock, ghastly white, and stuck up against the wall. Panic momentarily set in, and I began to blow (the one funny part) and then I recollected my senses and slapped the sopping wet bath towels which were lying on the floor onto the toilet. The flames died down, and I went to check on Philip.

His leg was blistering, so I called my Mom at work and explained the situation to her. She immediately headed for home to take Philip to the emergency room. I, in the meanwhile, checked on Bryan. He was still petrified, up against the wall. The poor guy was rattled for the remainder of the day.

As I lay in my room that night, I started to sob again, but not because of my missed field trip. In fact, that whole thing seemed rather silly to me now. After all, I realized what with Bryan going into shock, that the day would have turned out much differently had I not been there. The house could have burned down, and who knows what would have happened to my brothers. Suddenly a time spent with friends was no where near as important as my family, who needed me. I grew up a lot that day. And I never, ever, again complained about having to take care of my brothers!

Now today, I have four more little boys to care for. I never question whether what I do is important. And most of all, I know to watch out for those curious, wonderful boys. Because even when they are old enough to know better, they seem to have a knack for finding trouble. God just made them that way, and for a reason! It is that same sense of adventure that allowed men to discover new worlds, and invent new ideas that we Moms benefit greatly from today!

Bless em, those boys! God knew what he was doing. And we Moms have our role too, to keep careful watch of these guys, all day long. That's important as well!

I Detect a Slight Discrepancy

Philip is playing out front today, riding in the Little Tikes red car. He keeps telling me "my car needs gas". I keep repeating "Yes honey, your car needs gas".

He then pulls his car over, opens the little gas spicket, and proceeds to stuff copious amounts of GRASS into the hole. He shuts the spicket and drives on.

We better correct that before he starts fueling any real cars.

Question of the Day

Why is it, that when Mom is seated on the floor, the only thing that runs through a little boy's head is "Hey, let's run and jump on Mom's back!"?

But of course, this is followed with a big bear hug, so I guess all's well that ends well! As long as my back holds up, that is!

Yard Maintenance

Problem: Dear husband is very busy lately, between full time job and finishing up thesis for masters. Mom does not feel like dragging out the lawn mower. Grass is not all that tall, but nice white weeds are sticking up a foot above the grass. Surely, Homeowners Associaton is getting concerned...

Solution: Mom, to Nicholas: Hey honey. Would you like to pick the pretty white flowers in the yard for me?


And pick them he did. Every last one. Problem solved (for now).

I Get First Plate!

Boys really are competitive by nature. It is amazing at just how much of life becomes a contest, with one trying to outdo all of the others. As the boys inch older and older, I realize this more and more.

While this competition is natural, that doesn't mean that it cannot sometimes get on a mother's nerves a little bit. After all, when every little menial task becomes such a "high stakes" game (to them), it causes argument that Mom has to then help handle. It can be tiring. What's more, is that it is hard for Mom to understand just why it is so important that Nicholas's sand castle is bigger than Brennan's. At least important enough to escalate into a fight over it, anyway.

I have decided that his trait can be put to good use. Case in point, what Mom also has trouble getting little boys to wash up and come to the dinner table? Not just me? Each boy always wants the first plate, usually breaking out into a chorus of "I get first plate" followed by "I get first plate", at which the 2 year old must also join in "No, I get first plate!". Well, I have instituted a rule that states whoever is washed and quietly in their chair first gets first plate. This has been remarkably effective.

Then there is the bragging over "who got the first plate". I guess our next lesson should be one in humility!

Idle Hands

This past weekend, I was marveling at how clean the house was, well, by our normal standards anyway, which is no where near "clean". And let me share why, lest you mistakenly believe that I have turned a corner in my housekeeping abilities (I haven't).

We were rained in you see. For three straight days. This after having weeks and weeks of beautiful weather (don't laugh too hard, all you northerners!). Being cooped up with three boys who are used to the outdoors meant lots of jumping off of furniture, yelling, sword fights, and well, lets just say I was about to pull my hair out at the sight of the melee. I had to get control. And fast!

I got out the mop. And the scrub brushes. And the duster. I set the oldest three to work. I sat in the middle and demonstrated/directed the action. Whenever each boy was finished, he was allowed to attempt play again, until one of the aforementioned *feats *that *must *be *stopped* began to occur again. And then I set him to work once more.

At first I struggled. Should I really be working them so hard? Should I really trust them to wash breakable dishes (I did), run the vacuum (I did), and dust around my collectibles (well, sort of - not the really special ones!). And you know what? They relished in the responsibility. They put a lot of that bottled up energy to good use. And I even think that they might have had a little bit of fun.

This motivates me to give them more responsibility around the house. I am so afraid at times of letting them do "real" chores with "real" tools because something will get broken or I tell myself that "they are not old enough yet". Yet when I set my expectations just a little bit higher than usual, it is amazing and inspiring to see them reach for that extra star. I realize that they are capable. I realize how much that they have grown. And I realize that this is my job, to set that bar just a little bit higher from time to time. After all, that is how they will grow.

Happy St. Pat's!

What a day! I love St. Patrick's Day! I love the story of St. Patrick - what a great story of missions and faith to share with our children. And I love good ole' Irish tradition. So this is that one day of the year that I can let out that tiny piece of Irish merriment trapped in my genes (I'm something like 1/16 Irish) and party down.

We start out the morning with green eggs and ham for breakfast. We have lively Celtic tunes on CD that we listen to throughout the day. And of course we all dress in green. I read the story of St. Patrick to the little ones, and we also enjoyed the tale of Jamie O'Rourke and the Pooka by Tomie DePaola. In between basketball games, we sat down and watched Darby O'Gill and the Little People. This movie was a classic that I always enjoyed growing up - Warning - the banshee can be a little bit scary for some younger ones though!

For dinner, we had some Irish Lamb Stew (seasoned with Guinness, of course!) and Soda Bread. This meal is a new tradition of ours. My family grew up eating corned beef and cabbage on St. Pat's, however, I am not wild about corned beef and my husband isn't too keen on cabbage. The first year that we were married, we went with some friends to an Irish pub on St. Pat's and had some fabulous lamb stew. My husband discovered his love for lamb, and so I found a recipe that is wonderful! And no, the boys wouldn't try any, so they had hot dogs. Boy, they don't know what they are missing!

What a great day! Hope yours was wonderful as well! Slainte!

Guilty? Not really.

We are having a holiday from our school lessons today. No, not because it is spring break, either. In a couple of hours, the NCAA Men's Basketball tourney begins, and the first two days are always chock full of great basketball games. And on CBS nonetheless, so even us dark age "we don't have cable" types can join in the fun.

Can you tell we are sports nuts here? Every single one of us. And since our alma mater (Oklahoma State) didn't quite make the tournament this year, I will be rooting for Arizona, my parents' alma mater. The school that we grew up rooting for.

P.S. - Glad to see Danielle's kids are in the spirit too!

We Have Liftoff!

After such a great day Monday, I should have known that before long a wrinkle would be thrown into my nicely laid plans. I didn't expect to see one so soon, however.

Yesterday, as we were all working on our three blankets, Jonathan lifted up onto full hands and knees, and made his way across the room. His destination? Philip's blanket, complete with his stacked tower of pegs. Jonathan found the crash highly entertaining - Philip did not.

Is it too early to teach Jonathan to sit in the vicinity of a blanket?

You Know That I'm A Dreamer

Your Brain is Purple

Of all the brain types, yours is the most idealistic. You tend to think wild, amazing thoughts. Your dreams and fantasies are intense. Your thoughts are creative, inventive, and without boundaries. You tend to spend a lot of time thinking of fictional people and places - or a very different life for yourself.

What Color Is Your Brain?

Sadly, part of this is pretty true (except for the different life and fictional people/places)! I have a bad habit of daydreaming. I usually find myself thinking ahead to what might some day be. I really have to force myself to focus and just enjoy the present. My Dad was/is the same way. I remind myself of my Dad every time I sketch up a new idea for some project (building, writing, whatever!)

I do really enjoy vivdly imagining what it would have been like to be in certain historical settings. Especially as an early settler in the American West! Maybe that's the different life part!

Smooth Sailing

We have had a few issues of late with our dear resident 2 year old while schooling. We have tried giving him his own activities, but he then wants to do them interactively with Brennan. Brennan is more than happy to nix his own work in order to help Philip, so I tried sitting one on one with Philip while Brennan was working his Phonics and Math drills. The issue then, is that Nicholas is still in the early enough stages that he needs a little more help. I have also tried putting Nicholas off a little later in the day, but no, Nicholas wants to do the work with everyone else. Round and round we go...

Yet this weekend, I read about Montessori mats somewhere on the web. I honestly cannot remember where I passed it at, but it basically entails getting a mat (or small blanket), having child set it up in same room and pick an activity to work on while on the mat. Not showing older brother what we are working on, not showing Mom, but working quietly and independently. I must admit that I had few expectations, but I thought that it was worth a shot!

WOW!!!! It worked beautifully! In fact, Brennan and Nicholas wanted to work on a "mat" as well! Once I got past my own anal "but they need to work at a desk with good posture", I set up three small blankets in our study. Brennan sat on his and completed his work in record time! Nicholas sat on his and worked on his letters and math manipulative. And Philip sat and worked for 40 minutes without so much as a peep! I showed him how we only get one activity at a time, and then pick it up and put it back on the shelf before starting a new one. He did this, working on three separate activities in the allotted time. I only had to remind him to stay on his blanket once. I also told the boys that I would go to each blanket and work with them, but if I was on someone else's blanket, they would have to be patient. We have not yet had such a smooth morning. And, dare say, I think we all had a little fun as well!

I know it may not be so picture perfect once the novelty wears off, but I will keep you updated! I am just so excited at the progress, at having a standard that I can keep. As long as I can remain steadfast, I believe we may just be turning a corner!

Honesty

Me: What do you boys want for breakfast?

Philip: Syrup with pancakes on it.

Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

As I was preparing breakfast this morning, I realized that we were running low on clean coffe mugs. I was left to use my husband's Chewbacca (the wookie from Star Wars) mug.

Trying to get an early morning laugh out of the boys, I showed them my mug and said "See I have Chewbacca. ROAR! I thought that I gave the *ROAR* my best Wookie impression.

Brennan merely replied "No, Mom. Chewbacca sounds like this. RAWR!

I guess mine wasn't quite good enough.

Nicholas In Translation

I have realized that it oftentimes takes me to translate what Nicholas is talking about, as he describes places rather than uses each place's name. So here is Nicholas: in Translation in terms of our local shopping venues

Race Car Store = our local Kroger, which has race car shopping carts

Donut Pizza place = Domino's, which is next door to the donut shop

Motorcycle Pizza place = Double Dave's Pizza Parlor, which has a motorcycle video game

Red Sam's = our local Sam's club with the red stripe on the building, self explanatory enough, but

Blue Sam's = That would be the Wal-Mart next door, as it is an identical building but with a blue stripe on the walls

Astronaut Store = This is our local Fry's Electronics, favorite of all the boys. it has a big astronaut hanging from the ceiling

Shirt Store = Kohl's, which does sell more than shirts!

Park Store = Lowe's, where we purchased the materials to build their backyard "park"

Store with the green door and blue door = Target

Thomas Store = our local educational toy store, where we get our Thomas the Train toys

and his favorite (that's my boy!)

Curious George Store = Barnes and Noble, where Nicholas will quickly lead you to the Curious George display in the kiddos section.

Spread a Little Thin

In my limited spare time, I have been trying to get several projects accomplished. Yesterday presented itself with a significant amount of time where I only had Brennan awake, so I decided to make some decent headway. As I looked at what all I had on my plate, I realized that I have developed my own family's bad habit of starting too many projects before getting others finished. If the opportunity presents itself, I buy the materials. I then want to jump in and start. Yet when the next materials are bought, I don't ask myself "should I finish the other project first?" and instead I just jump right into that new one. So now I have:

-the wallpaper ripped off of half of the master bath

-the first coat of stain on the media cabinet

-Philip's quilt top complete and the squares for Jonathan's cut

-half of the knobs replaced on the kitchen cabinets

-the doors from the master bath cabinets half stained

-the molding for repairing the kitchen cabinets stained

It is difficult to figure out which to tackle first. I think that I will set to have these finished by Easter. This means that I must force myself to not start anything else. What a good self control exercise for this Lenten season!

Well, what do you know!

I have been staining a new media cabinet the last several days, which has left my hands a nice reddish-brown color. Although I have tried several different soaps, I still sported nice splotches of red stain on my hands. I resigned myself to the fact that it would just have to wear off, but at least it wouldn't come off on anything else after that many washings.

Well, as I prepared to knead bread for dinner rolls, I greased my hands with softened butter. And what do you know, but a nice, hand printed layer of stain peeled right onto the dough as I started to knead. I can only assume that it was the butter at work.

Aside from having to remake the dough, I found this discovery intriguing.

Sometimes I wonder...

...if there are those with nothing better to do than look for trouble. That's what I thought of as I read this article about getting rid of Pizza Hut's BookIt program. I participated in this program as a child. I loved it. I came out of school with a love of reading. It gave young children, even reluctant readers, something to strive for. In fact, one of my brothers would not read independently until the program was started at our school and now as an adult is still a reader. It also strengthened our narration skills as we were required to give an oral book report in order to get the coupon. At max we would get one a month.

Yes, childhood obesity is a problem. However, Book It is not the reason. Doing away with the program will not curb obesity in the slightest, as one personal pan pizza a month is not going to make a significant difference in anyone's weight. If it were one pizza a day, that would be different, but it is not. What banning the program would do is take away the incentive to read that some kids benefit from. There are some that do not read even with the program. There are those who will read even without it - I would probably have fallen into this category myself. But there are also those like my brother, who really could use the motivation to jump start the process. Some critics claim that kids will not learn to read for reading itself. But my brother no longer goes out and buys himself a pizza every time he finishes a book. He does still read regularly. He might not have begun without the special incentive that this program provided.

Preemptive Cleaning

I hear a gushing sound. My 2 year old has found the carpet cleaner that my husband was using the night before, and is generously pouring it onto the carpet behind me as I read on the computer. I take it away and go to put it back in the laundry room, only to find that Philip has now been "drinking" my coffee that I left on the desk and spilled a substantial portion of it onto the spot where he had previously spilled the cleaner.

Everything comes out. No harm, no foul.

(when will I learn to take my coffee cup with me!)

Picking Battles

When you have a 2 year old who is into everything, you pick your battles carefully. Each morning I ask the boys what they want to drink. Each morning, Philip goes to the fridge, and insists on trying the lemon juice. That's right, the big bottle of Real Lemon in the door next to the apple juice. It is a type of juice, after all. And each morning, I tell him how he really doesn't want that. A fit usually ensues, as Philip pleads his case for the lemon juice.

This has been going on for several weeks, so this morning, I gave in. I poured a little lemon juice in his glass and gave it to him. I really should have gotten the camera, because it was priceless (and a little bit sad) to see his face quickly go from eager and excited to downright sour. In fact, I feel a little mean. After all, it was funny - just a little bit funny!

We will see if he asks again tomorrow. My guess is that he won't.