Five Years Ago This Month

I may have inadvertently shown them Pet Cemetery on TBS one Saturday morning, while I tried to sneak in some fashion of adult time before they woke up.

 

Two weeks ago: we watched it again.

It was so much fun.

 

They still HATED the part where the Achilles heel is sliced with a scalpel. 

Eight Months--Eighty Pounds

 

This guy is having no problem fitting in.

 

The girls: eight years, a combined 86 pounds.

 

At their physicals the other day, after weighing in at 3rd and 5th percentile, we got our nutritional supplement marching orders with a goal of at least five more pounds on each. 

No diabetes, however.  So that was good news.

 



Mother's Day is Long Over

The Interrogation.

(Trying to keep a straight face.)

 

The culprit: Nicholas

 

Perhaps correct since my first reaction was to correct his spelling, although I didn't get out my red pen. My second reaction to tell him he has a better vocabulary if he wants to slander me.

Perhaps correct as well, since I find this sort of sentiment to be a measure of some success.

Scenes from Spring Break

Our first screening of Sharknado.

I'm not even sure how to admit that I sat down and watched the entire thing with the boys.

Oh no she didn't

Being the good mommy that I am, when he threw up the other morning, I helped him wipe up his face and brush his teeth.

Then I took him to school.

Because he told me he felt better.

Really, the boy throws up all the time.

Really.

Half an hour later, the school called to tell me he threw up all over his classroom.

On the way  home after picking him up.

"The nurse was asking me why  you brought me in here when I didn't feel well..."

"Nicholas.  You told me you felt fine.  I believed you."

"I didn't want to miss school.  We're doing a project on whales."

Brother.

Oh, don't feel too bad for Nicholas.  Within literally half and hour of bringing him back home, he was jumping on the furniture, eating Oreos he snuck out of the pantry, and playing video games.  He ate three helpings of salmon at dinner, and got in a brawl with his brother as soon he came home.

Giving Up

Found on my iPhone

The Friday evening that their dad and I fell in a tired heap (on the edge of getting colds), and the little people managed to entertain themselves without incident, while we rested.

Run For Your Lives!

 Zombie infested 5K obstacle course

Before

 And After.

 And the girls, who were just chatting away with the nurse zombie, wouldn't get their picture taken with her unless I joined.

 Trying to explain the race to my mother...

"Well, that sounds weird."

I didn't even bother mentioning Zombie Thor, who the children were cheering on to attack the racers by the end.

It's a Problem

Or not.

I cannot decide.

We Will Laugh, Some Day

As I tried to figure out how to use our printer/scanner to sign and send a new house document last night, Benjamin stood close dismantling my every effort by pushing every button on the thing. Elaine was in her room crying crocodile tears, naked because she couldn't figure out how to put on the Tinker Bell dress. Downstairs, and thankfully mostly out of earshot, I heard the wails of Alida as she fought with Nicholas. They would have to wait.

I called Patric, cell phone in one hand, beating Ben back from the computer with the other. In the middle of my fussing, I noticed out the window that two police cars with lights were racing down our street. No. They were stopping in front of our house. I was relaying this all to Patric when I realized that they were very seriously assessing our yard. No. They were very seriously approaching our front door.

Bother.

I hung up and went downstairs. Nicholas beat me to the front door from out of nowhere, and I shoved him behind me to see one officer standing back and ready. Then this exchange.

"There was a 911 call from this house with screaming in the background."
Another officer made his presence known by coming out from behind a tree.
I looked down, "Nicho.."
Nicholas had already hid his face in my leg and started clinging.
"Please come in."
"Who's in the house, ma'am?"
"Me and four children." (What great grammar lady, way to impress them.)
Then two more officers appeared. I opened the door wide.
One disappeared to the back of the downstairs immediately. The most gigantic, seven-foot one stood and took up our entire living room.
It crossed my mind very briefly to ask if he was in the market to buy a house, and then another asked me who was upstairs.
"My girl and my boy."
Up he went.
Officer four went to the garage.
"Nicholas? Did you call 911?"
"Yes." Barely audible.
"I'm so sorry. They have been learning about 911 at school..."

And so that is how my non-actress Alida set to screaming at Nicholas for not letting her have the phone at just the moment that he hit send on his 9-1-1 call.

It's Magical

When there is a major traffic back-up on a night we both already had to work late (he had a two hour drive home),

Why even bother attempting to make dinner?

When they can ignore fast food and play with toys at the table for half an hour.

"It's gucky."

Good Boy.

Well, good boy until you show up in our bedroom at 2:30 in the morning wanting Doc Oc's arms reattached. Argh.

Things Too Aggravating To Get Up From Nap and Grab the Camera During

Saturday.

Valentine's Day.

When one wasn't throwing a fit, they were both or all throwing a fit.

All day long.

It was a loud day at the Stuber house.

And then it was nap time. The girls went down pretty easy being worn out from being maniacs and all. The boys. We don't really expect them to take weekend naps any longer. We do expect them to spend an hour in their room quietly. In a rare instance on Saturday, we decided to take a nap ourselves having been screamed at and beaten and chased and on time-out duty and all.

And we were far more exhausted than we imagined. It was the kind of nap where a loud noise makes you close your eyes a little tighter, perhaps even pull the covers over your head. It was the kind of nap where we lay playing a silent game of resolve--each hoping the other would break first. Why? Because those boys did not stay in their rooms. We know this because Nicholas does not have a quiet voice it seems, and we heard the pitter patter of feet racing back and forth across the upstairs hall for what seemed like an eternity. And then they broke for the main floor. And we heard them run around down there for awhile. But neither of us broke. And then they were standing in our doorway.

"Mommy, I need changed."

Oh crud. My side of the bed is closest to the door of course. I looked up and saw wet pants. Really? You both had accidents?! What? Come on guys. And we both got out of bed in a nap haze and went to help these little people we were responsible for even when we decide to take an hour off. And I put my hand on his head to turn it and head him out the door. My hand recoiled and my mind raced as I touched down in his hair to find it soaking wet. Ewww. What on earth happened here? And I woke up then and realized that there were no accidents; these people were soaking wet from head to toe in water.

And then we found the bathroom soaking wet from ceiling to floor in water, and we still don't know what happened. All of the commotion woke the girls from their certainly fitful sleep, and we began again our game of the screaming meanies.

The bright spot in all of this is that everyone was in bed by 7:20 Saturday night. I'm pretty sure I didn't last much longer than that.

Our First Act of Thievery

But a quick side-note this morning. Alida. When I put on my new, tan wool pants this morning with the smart heels and wool sweater (read dry clean only, which generally means I don't purchase them but this was such a good sale), I had it in my head to be careful not to make any messes today. When I was walking to the car with you in my arms before I put on my coat and my heel stuck in the cuff of these wonderful new pants sending me dancing across the driveway, you rolled with it girl. When I somehow managed to dance my way across the driveway, fly into the air and perform a mid-air barrel roll to save you from being hurt when we landed in that snow in the yard that I managed to fling myself and you in to, you laughed. Then your dad laughed and took delight in telling everyone he could find at daycare to be careful because it was slippery today. That was our morning. Let's hope our days go better.

Now. Nicholas.

This is the carryout container from dinner the other night. It had used ketchup smeared all over the inside when you stole it from the table and started stashing toys in it. This son does not keep your toys safe; it keeps your toys nasty.

And. When we all six went to the grocery store the other day, you insisted on having some tomatoes, which we certainly aren't going to discourage. Well, actually we are going to discourage it now. Because at check out when you started handing out all of the items from the cart, we didn't really imagine that you had stashed back the tomatoes. And later in the car, we found you holding those tomatoes, and right or wrong we determined that we support Schnucks enough that we weren't morally obliged to go back (but don't think that when you are capable of understanding the lesson, we won't march right back in that store and apologize and pay out of our allowance. But right now, you get a pass for stealing tomatoes.) So. We promptly forgot about those tomatoes until a couple of days later when I remembered them while at work and tried to remind myself to dig them out of the back of the car later. But I forgot. And then a day or so later when your dad was looking through your stashes for something you were screaming for, he ran across your tomatoes. Again son. This is not keeping your toys safe; it is keeping them nasty.

Ghosts

The Thud I Heard

... On Friday night.

As I brushed the boys' teeth downstairs.

..On Saturday night.

The boy took a header while waiting in the empty bathtub after a fight over a shampoo bottle while I was dressing Alida for bed. There was so much blood that by the time I got there I couldn't tell if it was his nose, his mouth, or some other part of his face.

Emergency room or Steri Strip?

Steri Strip.

He seems to be fine now.

I Know I Should Take You Seriously, I Do

But when you tell me that you're scared at bedtime because the walls are going to bite you, I have to stifle a bit of a giggle.