Are you ready to have kids?

I always think it is good to look at the humorous side of parenthood. I especially like reading things like this because it makes me think: obviously I am not the only one doing some of these crazy things if someone else took the time to write a whole article about it! Click here to see whether you are ready.

"Code Brown!"

When it comes to gross mom moments, it's hard to rank them in order.

There was the time that my dear little Isaac threw up all over at me when I was home for a long night by myself with his new little brother and our crazy puppy while husband was doing one of his 100-hour-residency-work-weeks. And there was also the time that Abigail had diarrhea while I was breastfeeding her. I had poop in places I'd prefer not to discuss.

Those were not good moments.

A "Code Brown!"ranks up there. Not sure exactly where. The exact order is difficult to define sometimes. To read about a "Code Brown!" from the mouth of Isaac, our first willing participant, you can click here. Here is an excerpt:

Next topic. My favorite topic. The bathtub. Man, I looovvveee my baths. I could stay in there all
night. Sometimes, however, when I get bored and am ready to get out, I have learned that if I do something in the  bathtub, it makes everyone go crazy. Daddy yells, "Code Brown!" and pulls me out  of the tub and sets me totally wet on the floor of the bathroom. Mommy comes running in to scoop up my toys and throw them in the sink to wash them. Then they bring bleach in and hose everything down while I crawl around completely naked in the bathroom. It's quite hilarious and a ton of fun. I've done it twice now. Two nights in a row. How cool am I?

"Code Brown!"took a long break in our house. But in July of 2010, they rememerged. Our little Sidge joined the "Code Brown!" club as you can read out on this post.

So all that to say, it's now been a long time since the words, "Code Brown!" have echoed through the walls of our home.

Last night, that all changed.

Our little Abigail. Our sweet little diva. Our little lady joined the "Code Brown!" club. And not only did she join the club, she joined the club during a triple bath.

Yes, you read that right. A huge, terrible, blow-out "Code Brown!" while her brothers were with her in the tub.

Not good.

Not good at all.

Good thing we are well practiced. We've gone through drills. We've experienced the real thing. We are "Code Brown!" professionals.

We have a bath system in our house. When we deem the kiddos need baths (we do not give them every day simply because we don't have the energy), I head upstairs with Abigail. She starts the bath. Isaac will often join her, and as Sidge gets in, Abigail is usually done. I hand off Abigail to JB and then wash the boys.

There is therefore a small period, a short window, when all three kiddos are in the tub together. And it was during that short window that Abigail decided to "do her thang."

I opened the bathroom door and screamed at the top of my lungs: "JB! We have a 'Code Brown!'"

He came running. As our "Code Brown!" drills (and actual events) have prepared him to do. The person on the receiving end of the call is then the one who is supposed to help the bather, who is almost always, frozen with frustration and fear, as they (in the case me) try to figure out how to handle this. In this case, JB talked me out of my frozen fear and the following steps were followed in rapid succession:

Step 1: Immediately begin to drain the tub

Step 2: Stand up the responsible party (Abigail) and begin to spray her down with hot water. Rewash responsible party.

Step 3: "Code Brown!" first line responder (JB) takes guilty party out of tub.

Step 4: Stand guilty bystanders (Isaac & Sidge) up. Instruct them to leave every toy, every soap sud, every drip of water in the tub. March them into parents' bathroom across the hall for a rewash in the shower.

Step 5: Send guilty bystanders to first line responder (JB) for bedtime ritual.

Step 6: Gather up all toys and bath rags and any possible item effected by "Code Brown!" and bring them downstairs for a bleach bath in outside sink.

Step 7: Bleach bathtub accordingly.

Step 8: If in doubt about cleanliness of any item, bleach again. And again. And again.

But gosh-darn-it wouldn't you know it that the universe knows when you have poop on your hands! (Not that I believe in a "universe" per se but it works here so go with me.) The universe knows that I have poop on my hands and that my husband is busy getting three different children dressed and ready for bed. Because just at the moment that the "Code Brown!"was at its peak, the doorbell rings.

Scrubs goes into "Guard Dog" mode instantly. Since our front door is inside of our gate, the poor window-shade-fixer-guy is standing there getting barked up and down as he waits for us to let him in. (This used to bother me a lot, but I have really realized what a good dog Scrubs is and that he is simply doing what he was born to do, and I therefore praise him and call him into another part of the house.) I put Scrubs in another part of the house. Let window-shade-fixer-guy into house. And here come Nick and Kristy, passing us on a walk. And then our friend Carla coming by to bring her fabulous baked goods.

Timing. Not good timing.

But then again, I've determined that nothing in the universe times well with a "Code Brown!"

The End. For now.

P.S. And yes, I realize Unfortunately is spelled wrong in the photo. But it's not my photo so, oh well.

Spilled Milk

The situation: boy tries to get cheerios out himself and drops the box.

The dilemma: what should I do with an entire box of cheerios on the floor?

The solution: I decide to go for a three-prong solution to the problem.

Prong 1: Pick up cheerios that are sort of "on the top" and therefore not too dirty. Put these away for humans to eat later.

Prong 2: Bring "vacuum cleaner that doesn't need a bag" in and let him eat a bunch of cheerios. While he is eating, sweep at the same time so that he doesn't eat so much that bad gas results.

Prong 3: Take swept up cheerios outsie and scatter them (for the birds.)

I'm pretty happy with the result. Nothing was actually wasted. And birds and dog became my best friends ... again.

Just Snail Slime

This little girl is giving me a RUN for my money. I said to JB, "I feel like I can't turn my head for one single second!" and his reply was, "That's exactly right. You can't."

Yeah, that sounds possible.

I have to go the bathroom. The boys require my attention. Sometimes it is literally me just turning my head one way for a few seconds. By the time I turn back, she has wandered off somewhere else. Even when I think I have gone ahead of her and planned for anything she could dream of doing, she outsmarts me.

I literally say to myself about a dozen times a day: how does one grown woman have so much trouble keeping track of one tiny toddler? Seriously Wendi! Get with the program!

I have decided to allow her to practice going up and down stairs by herself; I allow her to climb on things etc. She's going to do it when I'm not looking. So when I am, I'd rather she'd practice and get good at it.

She's been going down stairs by herself very well, but yesterday she went face first down the two stairs leading from the porch to the driveway and the road rash pictured above was the result. She only cried for a moment before she had moved on.

This morning, Sidge went to feed Scrubby. He wore JB's flip-flops. So when JB went to leave for work, he couldn't find his flip-flops. He decided to head out the hallway door to look for them. He found them, outside, in the rain.

Cue me. Sitting at the dining room table eating my breakfast. All children have been fed and are at peace. Boys are watching Dora. Abigail is playing right around them -- as she often does. The girl doesn't really want to play with toys. She wants to play near people. If the boys are on the ground, I can usually do something, for a moment. So I turn my attention for a mere moment to wipe some peanut butter off my plate. And I realize: Abigail is no longer with them. Where did she go?

The hallway. She has followed JB out the hallway door. And there she is. Standing on the porch, watching JB pull out. I run down the hallway to give her a rebuke and retrieve her, only to notice there is a HUGE snail in her hand. One of those big, slimy snails. And it get's better folks. She's eating it. There is slime everywhere!

JB has rolled down his window to make sure I saw that Abigail was there. "She went out the hallway door," he said.

"I know," I replied. "You should have shut it."

"Sorry," he said. "I was too busy getting mad that my flip-flops were soaking wet."

About this time I see the snail. "Oh John! This is disgusting. There is slime everywhere. This is so gross."

Of course my husband the nature-lover-to-the-bone says, "It's not gross. If you say that, the kids will think nature is gross." And then he says ... wait for it folks. "It's just snail slime."

I wave good bye and rush inside to douse her in water. Just snail slime. Seriously? Maybe so, but it's snail slime I will immediately wash off. (As I gag, mind you.)

Here's a picture minus the snail slime but plus four different bathing suits she insisted on wearing at the same time. I wish she would understand that it is impossible to wear multiple shoes at the same time. Great gnashing of teeth ensue when I tell her no.

Pretty as a Picture

Grampa and Grama K. sent the boys a book on pirates which they loved. I told the boys that I wanted to take a picture of them with the book so they could see the boys with the book. Here is the finished product:

But what that picture does not show was the journey to that photo. Here are the pictures that I took before they finally settled down as said "Cheese" for the camera:

TV Woes

First time with cable since we've had the boys. Comes automatically with the houses and includes a lot of Air Force news and commercials and some popular shows at strange hours. (Oprah comes on at 9am for example.)

The boys are not used to TV. They are only used to videos. So here is my new advice.

Do not tell your child that we will watch Mickey Mouse Club in fifteen minutes. They will not understand why you are not just pressing play. Trying to explain the concept of TV starting at predetermined times will also not work.

Much crying (times two) will ensue.

You've been warned.

Ooey Gooey Mess

I am constantly learning as a mother. As a person too, but right now, at this stage in my life, my learnings are mostly motherly-elated.

Today I learned that if you buy egg-free waffles for your little allergic-to-eggs-Isaac, Murpy's Law says that he won't want to eat them. But your other son, who could eat the cheaper waffles with egg in them, will think they are just awesome.

I also learned, for the second time in three days, that it isn't just the kids who forget the things that ought not to be forgotten.

Two days ago I brought both boys "up da stairs" (as Isaac says) for their baths. While I was taking off Isaac's clothes, I turned and saw that Elijah had begun rolling the toilet paper into the tub.

I don't think I have to state the obvious, but I will anyways. It'll make for better effect. Toilet paper and baths full of water don't mix. Well, they actually do mix. They mix into a sticky, gooey, icky mess.

You'd think I'd remember this. But today, I turned my back again to take Isaac's clothes off and found a naked Elijah doing the exact same thing. More sticky, gooey, icky mess.
And more smiles. At least on the inside.

Here is a link to the post as it originally ran on my Daily Blog.

Mom Humor

There's been a lot of funny "mom" things that have been floating around on Facebook. When I see one I really like, I save it so that I can share it on my blog. To share the humor with other people. And to have it for myself to look back at someday in the future.

Yesterday was a hard mom-day for me. I felt like I was doing the right things but not getting the right results. We are focusing on a "letter of the week." This is week one. This week is the letter A. We practice writing the letter. Watch videos on youtube about how it sounds. We draw it outside with chalk. We learn a Bible verse that starts with that letter. ("All things work together for the good of those who love Him.") We find stickers that have a little a or big A. We look for the letter while we are reading books. Just trying to be proactive with learning.

In addition to the fun A activities we did today, I cut up big cardboard boxes and made houses for the boys. Gave them a door and everything. We had an Easter Egg hunt in the garden with some old plastic eggs that made the trip here in a box that came to our post office box. I put a single Pez in each egg. We swam in the pool. We played with cars. They helped me make lunch.

And yet it seemed like, all day, everyone was miserable. Abigail has an ear infection. (JB has strep throat and even missed work two days ago.) Both boys, while not physically ill, just seemed out of sorts. There was lots of crying. Lots of time outs. Lots of whining. Lots of disobedience. Abigail is incredibly clingy, and the boys weren't cutting me any slack despite the extra appendage (i.e. Abigail) I've been lugging around.

As I have mentioned previously, I am always hesitant to mention any difficulties in my parenting on the blog. I never want my weariness to be misconstrued as being ungrateful. I am SOOOO incredibly grateful for these three little miracles. I would not change my life for anything in the world. But some days are still hard days. I want to make sure people who read my blog know that. That they know I don't have it all together. I lose my cool. I don't do a good job. My kids whine. They disobey. We try hard. But we are a "normal" family. I once had someone say that my blog makes me look like a perfect mom. This bothered me! That's not fair to other moms. To think I have it all together is not a picture painted perfectly. Remember, I write my blog the way I want to. I don't share the nights that JB and I fight or I break down crying (yesterday) because I just didn't feel I was good enough for this job.

That being said, I think making jokes and getting laughs and realizing that other moms feel the same way is helpful. It makes me smile. If you are dealing with infertility, PLEASE don't see this as a complaint of motherhood. It's simply embracing the humor of this crazy life -- be it through adoption or pregnancy.

Let's start with a poem that I really love. I've been reading a series of stories for the boys on "If you give a ___ a ___." Things like, "If you give a mouse a cookie" or "if you give a pig a pancake." When I saw this poem (below), it made me smile. Mainly because I could really see the truth in it.

If You Give a Mom a Muffin ...

If you give a mom a muffin,

She'll want a cup of coffee to go with it.

She'll pour herself some.

Her three-year-old will spill the coffee.

She'll wipe it up.

Wiping the floor, she will find dirty socks.

She'll remember she has to do laundry.

When she puts the laundry in the washer,

She'll trip over boots and bump into the freezer.

Bumping into the freezer will reminder her she has to plan supper.

She will get out a pound of hamburger.

She'll look for her cookbook. (101 Things to Make with a Pound of Hambuger.)

The cookbook is sitting under a pile of mail.

She will see the phone bill, which is due tomorrow.

She will look for her checkbook.

The checkbook is in her purse that is being dumped out by her two-year-old.

She'll smell something funny.

She'll change the two-year-old.

While she is changing the two-year-old the phone will ring.

Her five-year-old will answer and hang up.

She'll remember that she wants to phone a friend to come for coffee.

Thinking of coffee will remind her that she was going to have a cup.

She will pour herself some.

And chances are,

If she has a cup of coffee,

Her kids will have eaten the muffin that went with it.

And here are some photos from Facebook that hit home!

This might seem extreme, but I actually think it is true. I really love to walk around, even the Base Commissary, by myself. It's a vacation!

 Can I get an "Amen?"

While JB is the chef in our home, even when he cooks dinner, I usually do make something for Abigail and the boys. They might eat a bit of what we do, but I often do something simpler for them as well. (Especially Isaac who is a wee bit picky.) Three kids x three meals is nine meals a day I have to come up with. That's a lot of creativity, prepping, and cleaning up! (And I usually don't even formally make something for myself.)

 I also love the expression, "Cleaning with kids in the house is like shoveling snow while it's still snowing." (I stole this from Joia -- although I don't know she originated it.)

So, let's have a good laugh at the craziness of motherhood! Email me your best at: flakymn@hotmail.com (or put a link in the comments if it is online.)