U is for Understand

Sometimes it's more important than you think to actually understand what your kids are saying.

Admit it, sometimes when your kids are talking and they get into minute 43 of non-stop chatter, your eyes start to glaze over a little. And you don't listen quite as closely as you did at the beginning of the conversation. And maybe you don't understand every word they utter (even older kids are sometimes a little hard to understand) but it's ok because you've got the gist of the story, right?

But sometimes understanding that one word makes all the difference in the story. For example, a few nights ago Preston was telling me about his day. I'm actually not exaggerating when I say that he started into this section of his stories after 40-45 minutes of near non-stop talking. I may be exaggerating to say he hadn't paused to take a breath (let alone let his siblings speak) for that entire time. But I'm not exaggerating by much. Preston is quite the talker. So, especially since I was also trying to fix dinner at the time, I think I can be forgiven for not being entirely focused on the conversation.

"And then we were all running around the playground and we were trying to kick each other in the Crocs. And sometimes somebody would get kicked in the Crocs and they would trip and fall down. And one time I got kicked in the Crocs and it hurt and I fell down but then I got up again and I chased **** and kicked him in the Crocs so it was okay. And then later I was sliding on the pole and I jumped on the pole and I banged my Crocs on the pole but it didn't even hurt so I laughed. And then another time **** told us about a movie he watched and this guy was really stupid and he poured oil on his Crocs and then he lit the oil on fire! But his Crocs didn't even burn up and it was okay. But I don't think I would want to have my Crocs be on fire. Why is it called a Crocs, anyway? Just like the shoes? I think that's really weird."

So as I'm listening to this conversation I'm adding little interjections here and there to show I'm listening. "Um-hmm. ... Really? ... I'm glad you were okay - maybe next time you should find a game where you don't kick each other. ... That's good, you have to be a little careful on the pole sometimes. ... Wow, that doesn't sound like a good choice! What a waste of his shoes. ... Wait - what? What's just like the shoes? Aren't we talking about the shoes?"

*heavy sigh * eyeroll * "NO, Mom. Your Crocs... you know... down here?" *gestures below the belt like Vanna White in an anatomy class* "Crocs... the penis spot!"

The what now? Oooooh... not Crocs. Crotch. Suddenly the whole previous conversation has a very different slant. Not only were the boys running around tripping each other, but they were kicking each other in the crotch to do it. And then discussing some idiot who decided to set his crotch on fire. (I can only assume this is some movie like JackAss? And who is letting their first-grader watch that? It's just a recipe for disaster... old enough to watch, think it's funny, and decide to replicate it. Not old enough to have any filter or thought about consequences of repeating a stupid stunt. Yikes.)

Follow up with discussion on correct pronunciation of the word, good and not-so-good things to do with your crotch (good: use the bathroom, keep private; not-so-good: kick, light on fire), the best way to interact with other people's crotches (which is to say, not at all, especially not at school), and how people in movies don't always make good choices and that's why we shouldn't do the things we see on TV or movies without talking to Mom or Dad about it first. (And we especially shouldn't do anything like that at the sleepover coming up on Saturday with the other boys from the crotch-kicking game and are we sure we really understand that point?)

*Whew* That was exhausting. And at the same time... hee-hee. Worth a giggle. :)

Quick Funny from Haley

"He's such a good guesser! It's like he's a sidekick or something."

T is for Tired

So VERY tired this morning. I'm about to doze off at my desk. Actually, I think I just did doze off at my desk for a minute between the second and third sentences.

Last night, we finally headed for bed shortly before midnight. I think I alseep about 5 minutes after my head hit the pillow. It only took that long because Aaron was talking to me and I was trying to stay awake enough to respond. I slept for a couple of hours before being awakened by Rylen, who has developed a delightful new habit of waking up in the middle of the night ready to play and socialize. So at 3 a.m. he's demanding a drink, playing peek-a-boo, and generally wanting me to wake up and play with him. He's really cute with his smiles and giggles. But I'm not so interested in that, because IT'S 3 A.M.! I'm just too tired.

After what felt like an hour (I have no idea how long it really was because that would require me to be more coherent than I actually am at 3 a.m.), I finally got Rylen settled down again. (Aaron either manages to sleep through most of this many nights or gives a good impression of sleeping through it.) I was just drifting off to sleep again when I feel a little hand tugging at my arm.

This time it's Brekken. He's had a nightmare. He needs a hug. He needs me to help him say a prayer. I help him out with these and try to send him off to bed. But apparently that's too frightening. He needs to sleep at the bottom of my bed. It's not worth fighting him over it, because I just want to go back to sleep. So I settle him down by my feet - where he is cold. And he needs my blanket.

Fine. I don't care. I may shiver a little, but at least I can go back to sleep. For about 30 minutes, because it's almost time for my alarm to start going off. *sigh*

I fall asleep and dream that I am calling in sick to work. It's very convincing. So much so that when my alarm rings, I turn it off. After all, I've already called in sick. No reason to get up when I'm still so sleepy. I slept for almost another hour before I woke up enough to realize what had happened, dragged myself out of bed and into work, and now I'm sitting here at my desk trying to wake myself up enough to accomplish something today. So far, not a huge success. I've dozed off several times in the course of writing this post.

It's days like this that I kind of wish I drank coffee.

S is for Shrooms

Mushrooms that is. Specifically a new recipe called Crackpot Mushrooms.

Unfortunately, I can't give credit to the person who came up with recipe, because I don't know who she is. While on vacation last week, I was surfing the web one night after the kids were in bed. I was killing time on a website that lets people anonymously send in their stories of horrible manners or ask questions about etiquette and manners. (It's more entertaining than it sounds.) One of the stories was from a woman who had made a big crockpot of a special dish for a party she was hosting, then two guests arrived early and ate the entire crockpot of food before anyone else arrived.

Of course, the number one comment everyone had was to ask for the recipe! So the anonymous poster helpfully shared her recipe for Crackpot Mushrooms, thus called because they're made in the crockpot and seriously addictive.

It sounded good, so I decided to give it a try. I made a crockpot full of mushrooms last night, and between Aaron, Preston, and I, we ate the whole crockpot. :) Of course, we were eating it for dinner and no one expected us to share it with a houseful of guests. (The other people in our household didn't want to share in the mushroom bounty.)

We enjoyed it so much that I thought I ought to share with other mushroom lovers out there.

Crackpot Mushrooms

4 containers (or 2 large), small white button mushrooms

2 sticks butter


2 packages dry Ranch dressing mix

The instructions say to dump it all in the crockpot and cook on medium for 2 hours. My crockpot doesn't happen to have a "medium" setting, so I improvised. I started on low for 1 hour, then gave it a good stir and cooked it on high for another hour. It seemed to work just fine.

As the original poster of the recipe said: "It is pretty freaking good. Even if it will give you a heart attack from all that butter."

She's right. It is pretty freaking good!

R is for Ridiculous

Ridiculous is the only word for my Christmas tree project.  It's seriously something worthy of Pinstrosity. (BTW, if you're a Pinterest fan and haven't checked out pinstrosity.blogspot.com/, you have to go take a look. Hilarious!) 

The Backstory
A few years ago, we had an artifical Christmas tree. It was pre-lit to save a little work when setting it up. And for the first year or two, it worked really well. But then some of the branches started to droop. The gaps grew bigger. The tree was wobbly. And the pre-lit lights started burning out. It was sadly bedraggled. And that was before the cat started climbing it. By the end of its last season, the tree was in bad shape. It just wasn't worth storing and pulling out again the next year. So out to the curb went the tree.

Instead of buying another artificial tree, I decided to go with something a little untraditional. We put up an outdoor tree of lights and used it as our Christmas tree. It was a bit unusual, but I liked it. It was actually quite convenient the way you could stack all the gifts inside the tree as a bit of protection from curious cats and toddlers.

But these trees are not very durable, either. So after a few years, it also found itself on the curb.

The Project
When it came time to put up a Christmas tree this year, we no longer had a tree - artificial, outdoor, or otherwise. I looked for something in my price range, but could not find something that I liked for a price I was willing to pay. And then I had a bright idea! I would create my own tree of lights.

I bought several strings of discount LED Christmas lights online, some green wrapping paper, and a bag of bows usually used to decorate presents. I spent about $15 altogether, which was right in my price range. :)

And then I started building the tree. I carefully cut out a traditional tree shape from the wrapping paper and stuck it to the wall with double-stick mounting tape. It looked good, but plain. So the next step was to add lights. I used the mounting tape to meticulously criss-cross my light strings and it looked pretty good! The kids stuck the bows all over the tree for the final touch. Unfortunately, I was unable to take a picture before the tape started giving way.

It turns out the paint on my walls has some sort of adhesive-repelling properties. (Marker, crayon, and dirt, however, are not the least bit repelled.) The tape would just not stick. So I pulled out the painter's tape and started fortifying the mounting tape with the familiar blue tape. It didn't look quite as pretty any more, but at least it was up. I took time to fix some dinner for the family - during which time the blue tape gave way as well, bringing most of the tree crashing down. Frustrated, I turned to the ultimate tape... traditional silver duct tape. The real stuff, too, not some knock-off brand. It didn't blend. It wasn't discreet in any way. But it was going STICK, darn it! Nothing beats duct tape. I taped that tree and lights with about half a roll of duct tape to be sure it wouldn't move. I watched it suspiciously for a while, but it seemed secure. I went to bed. And by the time we got up, the tree was falling from the wall. The paper was peeling down in strips. The bows were mostly laying on the floor. The lights had become a tangled ball dangling randomly from the front of the "tree."

Just what I had pictured when I had this idea, can you tell?

The Project - Take Two
This pathetic excuse for a tree remained for a couple of weeks until I finally had a chance to build it again. I finally wised up and bought a big box of pushpins. I cut out a new tree and pinned it securly to the wall. Then I wrapped the wires around the end of the pins. Much easier this time to criss-cross my light strings and keep them all up! I pinned the bows as well. So my wall is full of pin-holes, but my tree is up and has stayed that way for almost 2 weeks now! It's a pretty good-looking tree now, I think. Maybe even Pin-worthy instead of a Pinstrosity. :)

Q is for Questions

Today I am questioning why people make such horrible choices. There are so many questions and thoughts racing through my head, but they all boil down to: Why did Adam Lanza decide to go into an elementary school and start shooting children?

I know that people have free agency to make their own choices, but it's never so hard to accept that doctrine as it is when terrible things like this happen. It doesn't lead me to question why God lets it happen, though, because I have faith that He is there. He is comforting those children now. He will comfort the families as much as He can. He weeps as much as we do over these terrible events, yet still he allows us all to keep our free agency - no matter how much it hurts.

A mass shooting is always a terrible event. I don't understand the thinking that leads someone to decide that is the course they should take. But as the mother of young children, this one hits even harder. I have a kindergartener. And for all that he drives me crazy at times, I would be devastated if anything were to happen to him. Since hearing the news of the CT shooting, all I can do is wonder What If.

What if it were my child's school? What if it were my child's classroom? What if it was my child? I am in tears. I am shaking and queasy and so, so sad. I can't imagine what the parents of those children are going through.

I don't know if we'll ever have answers to our questions about today's terrible tragedy. We may never know why Lanza decided to do this horrible thing. I wish we could know. I wish that knowledge would help us stop this from ever happening to another school, another family, another community.

I cannot find the answers. I cannot do anything to help from the opposite side of the country. But I can leave work to go see my babies and hug them all so tight. I can say a prayer of gratitude that I am still able to hold my family close. And I can love them with all my might every single day.

Excuse me while I go do that.

P is for Preston

Preston is my sweetheart little boy. He loves to come up and give you hugs. And cling and climb all over you. And just wants to be way too close all the time. But even if I occasionally have to cry Enough! to the clinginess and send him on to play, it's still sweet.

He's so tiny. He's currently outweighed by his 4-year-old brother and is only about an inch taller than Brekken. Needless to say, that makes him the smallest in his 1st grade class by far. But it rarely seems to register with him. He's such a little dynamo - constantly running here, there and everywhere. Aaron and I joke that the reason he doesn't grow is because he's so full of energy that he burns off every calorie he eats before it has a chance to do him any good!

Running, climbing, jumping off of things, breaking things, constantly fighting with his brother... he's all boy. Frankly, it drives me nuts sometimes. :)

He's also very emotional. Everything is a worst-case scenario for him. If he gets banned from the computer for an hour then he's NEVER GOING TO GET TO PLAY COMPUTER AGAIN! A time out leads to YOU HATE ME! YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO LET ME OUT OF THIS ROOM! Time to stop playing and get ready for church on Sunday? NO!! I HATE CHURCH! I'M NOT GOING! JUST LEAVE ME HERE BY MYSELF! And this in spite of the fact that once we're at church he has fun and frequently on the way home from church he tells us - I'm not going to throw a fit next week. I just forgot that I liked it. *sigh*

He loves dinosaurs. A few months ago he picked out a book about dinosaurs from his school book order. I looked at it - a 20 pg book about various types of dinosaurs - and then looked at the book next to it - a dinosaur encyclopedia of over 100 pages about every dinosaur currently known for only a couple of dollars more. I made the swap and got him the encyclopedia. It's best buy I've made for him! He adores that book. He looks at it every night. He and Aaron sat together for many nights until they had read every page. Now Preston sits with me and reads the pages to me. It makes me laugh a little that I sometimes have to help him with everyday words like first or later, but he has absolutely no problem reading paleontologist, Eoraptor, Dimetrodon, or Corythrosaurus. Nothing we've done to help him start reading has been anywhere close to as motivating as that impulse purchase of a dinosaur book.

He also loves to play on the computer. Given his choice, he would spend hours and hours on end just playing Lego and racing games and puzzles and alien wargames online. It's devastating to him when he is forced to move away from the computer and do something active. (Of course, once he has gotten over the fit, he moves like a whirlwind and wreaks so much havoc that you want to beg him to go back to the computer.)

His siblings are his closest friends. And his deadliest enemies. They laugh and play joyously together and then minutes later they're slugging it out in earnest. Screaming with laughter or screaming with rage. All in the course of a normal 10 minutes at our house.

In spite of the fact that he makes me crazy, I adore him. He's such a cute, precious child. We're lucky to have him in the family.