Oh, the crazy things kids say…

Oh, the crazy things kids say…

We were watching “Fear Factor” this evening and Bradley was ready for bed in his pajamas, which I guess consisted of shorts and no shirt tonight. He comes up to me with an embarrassed grin and asks, “Mom, what are these called?” pointing to his nipple.

Where the hell did this come from all of a sudden?!  

Maybe because there was a swimming part on “Fear Factor” with guys and big muscles. That’s what I’m guessing anyway.

I am so unprepared but I answer anyway. “It is called a nipple.”

He giggles and covers his mouth like he is going to tell me a secret and asks, “What are they for?”

I’m alarmed. Caught off guard. I’m not really sure what to say. I am very unprepared. And I also just want to laugh my ass off, but I don’t.

So I tell him, “They don’t do anything.” At least his don’t anyway, I think to myself and just keep the laughter in my head.

“Do they help you get muscles?” he asks with a large smile, like he knows the truth and I am not telling him or something. “They make muscles, don’t they, Mom?”

Oh. I just can’t help but laugh a little.

“No. But if you exercise, eat healthy foods, and drink your milk you get muscles there.”

Oh! The things kids say…

What kind of crazy questions have your kids asked that caught you off guard? And how did you answer? I bet there are some funny stories.


My Sledding Experience: I Don’t Bounce Like I Used To

They say that as you get older you get wiser. I learned a lot today when we went sledding. I don’t know if I am any wiser, but I did learn that I don’t bounce like I used to.

When I was younger I had no fear. I would start at the top of the tallest hill, take a running leap and belly flop on the sled and go flying down the hill face first. We would weave in and out of trees. We even had double ramps and we always got plenty of air. And going back up the hill to do it again…no problem. And if we crashed, it wasn’t bad. We just shook it off and was ready to do it again.

But something happens to our bodies when we get older, at least mine anyway. When I crash, it hurts. I don’t know if it is because of age and I’m not as flexible as I used to be. Maybe it’s because I’m not as physically fit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lazy. I chase after four kids all the time. That is plenty of physical activity to keep me fit and trim. But when I crash now, it really does hurt. I go limping back up the hill, if I make it at all, trying not to think about how it looked to everybody else. And also knowing I’m going to be feeling this all week long. Dang, I’m just not as young as I used to be.  

Maybe it is also because we’re more cautious now that we are older. We take into consideration all of the variables that could happen before we go sledding down that hill or doing some other stupid daring trick. I mean, I don’t have time to have a broken leg or arm. I have too many other people to take care of to be down like that.

But most of the time, I do it anyway. I’m just not quite as a daredevil as I used to be. This time there were no trees to steer between.

It all began when I was at the bottom of the hill watching the kids sled down. I was cheering for them and making sure they didn’t go too far and hit any obstacles. It looked like so much fun and eventually I was at the top of the hill sending the kids down to Brad. The extra sled was laying there, tempting me. Childhood sledding memories flew in like snowflakes and the reasoning part of my brain was frost-bitten and not working at that moment, I guess. I’m going down, I decided.

Now, I am smart enough that I didn’t start at the top of the hill. I started half way down. I don’t think it would have mattered where I started, crashing is always hard. I flew down the snowy hill and felt the rush of adrenaline. The next thing I knew, my face was in the snow and my hat flew off. I don’t know if I did a backwards somersault or just flopped over like a beached whale. Whatever it looked like I know it wasn’t graceful. But it did hurt. I just don’t bounce like I used to.

You know, I have always wanted to be the mom who participates in activities with their kids. I want to sled down the hill with them. I would probably even have a lapse of forgetfulness and try that ramp at the skatepark. But I try to remember to take it easy. There are some things I just can’t do like I used to. I can still play baseball, though!  

I took it easy the rest of the day with our winter play. I was cautious. I didn’t do any more sledding. Instead I flung my kids down the hill as fast as I could so I could relive those childhood memories somehow. Hearing their giggles and laughter, seeing their rosy cheeks, and watching them crash was more than enough enjoyment for me.

We had a great time. We even made a baby snowman.

Do you still go sledding with your kids? Or do you cheer from the sidelines? I would love to hear your sledding adventures.


Who is Your Valentine?

I was putting Bradley to bed and crashed on his top bunk next to him. “I love you so much,” I told him.

“Mom,” he says, “My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day,” he said out of the blue.

“It is?” I asked. “Who is going to be your Valentine this year?”

“Ummmm…” he said, looking into the air for the answer with a sly grin.

“Who do you love lots and lots?” I asked, smiling and waiting for the obvious answer.

“Ummmm…” he grinned, knowing what he is supposed to say.

“Who do you love to the moon and back? Who loves you all the way to the stars?” I went on, “Who makes your breakfast? Who washes your clothes? Who gives you lots of kisses?” I asked, kissing his forehead.

He didn’t answer. He just sat there with a Cheshire grin.

“Ok. I will give you a hint,” I said. “Her name starts with an ‘M’ and ends with an ‘M’.” 

“MOM!” he shouts.

That’s my boy, even though I had to work for that one. Little stinker.

I gave him hugs and kisses. “Good night. I love you.”


I’m Going to Stick My Head in a Snow Bank Now

January 12, 2012 :  It’s chaos, I tell you. Mutiny. I am out numbered and the craziness ensues.

All day I have been chasing babies up the stairs, keeping Collin from taking rides around the living room on the ceiling fan, and yelling at the dog to shut up. Every time I turn around it is one or the other, and they know it. They give me a smile, a grin, a giggle, and boogie it up the stairs or climb the counters. They scatter in three different directions looking for trouble one way or the other. And I think they plan it because as soon as I turn my back the other is up to something and it is a never-ending circle and chase. I am one dizzy momma.

I’m not sure how they manage their plan of attack. It must be some sort of baby code that I don’t understand because none of them talk (well, Collin who is two sort of talks, he has his own language). They are obviously very good at communicating the best strategy to exhaust me because I never know which direction I am going or what I was doing.

In the kitchen you can find Exhibit A:

Tupperware as hats, lids as flying saucers, and plastic spoons as swords.



Yea, I definitely need some baby latches. I bought some and tried to install them, but I’m just not that handy and haven’t found anyone to help in that department. I should call dear old dad.

Exhibit B has got to be the bath tub. I put all three little ones in the tub this evening. They splashed, they rolled, the threw all the toys out, the wet wash cloth landed on the floor too many times; it’s amazing how much water puddles on the floor from a unwrung washcloth. I didn’t need a bath, but I got one anyway.

Stop. Sit down. Quit spitting. Stop pulling your sister’s hair. Quit splashing. Stay on your side of the tub. Quit pushing. Share that toy. Don’t do that. This isn’t a water slide. Quit! 

This is a different time when I threw all four in there. That was a tight squeeze and even more craziness.!

And the list goes on. They just laughed at me and egged each other on. I washed and scrubbed little arms, feet, and faces as fast as I could just to get done. At some point I figured they are in water, they are clean enough. WE ARE DONE!

I’m not sure what I was thinking putting them all three together. But it really doesn’t matter how I give baths. One at a time or in pairs, they are crazy no matter what. That’s why they get short baths. I can only take the craziness for so long…and for safety reasons. They are everywhere and the tub is not a water park.

Exhibit C:  Trying to get them ready for bed. The video explains it all. It is kind of longer, but you have to watch toward the end when Collin is making faces and yelling at the mirror. It is hilarious. Who the hell is this kid? And what is he thinking? Just plain weird, which I must say he probably gets it from his dad (of course he does, I’m not that strange).

And as the day is winding down I start thinking about this cartoon I saw on facebook.

Sometimes, you just have one of those days when this description fits.

Mommy doesn’t have any wine. I drank what was left last night.

So tonight…I think I will just go stick my head in snow bank.

Tomorrow has got to be a better day!

They are adorable, though…

The Never Ending Pile

It’s always there. Everybody has it. It accumulates. It grows larger and larger every day. It’s exasperating the way these piles grow. We even add to it everyday, usually two or three times a day!


I have piles of darks, whites, towels, and jeans on my basement floor. I even have a whole load of pink clothes (I never thought that would happen. I love having girls, too!).

I walk up my stairs and a pile awaits behind the closet door and a basket in every room. Towels cushion my bathroom floor, they need washed too.

It’s everywhere!

And I have stacks. Stacks of clean clothes sitting in baskets and on top of dressers that need to be folded or put away. There is a whole tub of mismatched socks waiting for their mate.

It’s also never-ending because of all the great help I have. I was hanging shirts in the boys’ closet and I looked down; there is Mallie pulling out all of the jeans from the bottom dresser drawer. Really?!  Great help, I tell you. At least they are cute!

Here are the girls in action helping me fold towels. Usually the floor is covered, but this time I left them only one.

And I remind myself daily not to stress out. “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”  Because laundry…well, it never goes away and it will always wait. And seriously, look at how much fun they are having!

As long as we have clean clothes to wear, it’s all good.


Checkers Maniac

New Year’s Eve.

Strobe lights and sweaty bodies dancing.

Empty beer bottles and smashed cigarettes.

A blaring band and crowded bar.

Nope…this wasn’t my New Year’s Eve, not this year any way. Actually, I haven’t had one like that in a long time…and probably wont for quite a while. It’s okay. I don’t really miss it. I have so much fun hanging out with the kids and watching the ball drop on tv and banging on pots and pans at midnight and waking up the neighbors.

One of my favorite parts of waiting for the new year is playing games. This year I taught Bradley how to play Checkers. He is addicted. He is a Checker’s maniac now. That’s all he wants to do. And if he can’t find anyone to play with him, he plays against himself.

He got a Lightening McQueen Checkers game this year. We lined up all the black and white pieces and put Lightening McQueen stickers on them to get started.

I briefly explained the rules.

“Okay. The first game I will help you so you get the hang of it,” I told him.

He got the hang of the game quickly. The second game he kicked my ass… and I was kind of trying.  

I have found my Checkers match.

“Okay, kid,” I said, taunting and teasing him. “I think you have the hang of this game. You kicked my butt! No breaks for you this time,” I told him.

I bragged to everyone how quick he caught on and how I have such a smart kid. It was amazing to see his six-year-old little brain planning strategies and ways to trap my guys.

“Mom, I don’t think. I just KNOW where to move them,” he said.

And yes, my six-year-old son kicked my butt AGAIN in Checkers. And I was really trying. I had no kings, wasn’t even close, and the little stinker double jumped me!

“It’s on!” I said. “Let’s play again.”

Of course he was up to it. He was in his glory.

This game I caught him. I surrounded him with kings. He knew any which way he moved I had him.

He laid his tired head on the table. It was only ten o’clock, but that is late for him. I kind of started feeling sorry for him, glossy blue eyes and big lashes pushing back tired and defeated tears.

But I couldn’t let him win every game. Isn’t that the point of playing games with your kids? It should be a learning experience.  You can’t always win them all and you have to be a good sport and play your best.

The board was set up in my favor, my kings awaiting his next move. He reluctantly moved his piece. I quietly jumped it. “Good game, hunny,” I told him.

He was obviously not happy.

He won the next and last game, I made sure of it without being too obvious. Building up confidence is good also.


She Can Walk! But Only When She Wants To.

I hold up her favorite toy across the room. “Come here, Elsie! Want your toy?” I say, shaking the toy and trying to coax her into walking across the room. (She is a baby, not a dog. That description kind of sounded like I was talking to a dog. Funny how those things can be similar. I mean think about it – the way people talk to a baby to get them all excited kind of sounds similar to how some people talk to their puppies. Gotta train ’em. The similarities are kind of funny, except I don’t make my kids pee oustide. But anyway, I’m just entertaining a silly thought, on with the story.)

She gets down, laughs and smiles at me, and walks across the room on her knees.

I have been waiting for Elsie to start walking any time now. I can’t wait for her to walk! If only you could see her poor little calloused knees you would understand.

I try to hold her hands so she will walk. Nope. She wont do it. She just keeps her knees up and refuses to even try. Little stinker.

Sometimes I think she thinks she is walking when she walks on her knees, which is her main way of getting around. But who really knows what these babies are thinking.

I guess she will walk when she is ready. But she has finally taken her first steps and I got it on video! She doesn’t even try to walk very often, so it is amazing I caught it on video.

Now…if she would only try it a little more often.

I guess when she is ready.


Conversation in the Car

New Year’s Eve

In the car on the way home from my parent’s house:

“Mom. Mom!” Bradley yelled from the backseat.

“What?” I called back.

“Can you turn the music down, please?”

“Why?! I love this song! It’s mommy’s jam,” I said, singing along.

“Please, Mom. I’m trying to watch a movie in my head,” Bradley said.

I was surprised by this response. I don’t know where this kid comes up with this stuff. So I asked the obvious questions, “What movie are you watching?”

“A vampire movie,” he said.

Hmmm…wouldn’t have guessed that one.

A couple of minutes later:

“Mom, I can’t wait to be a Dad,” Bradley said. He says this all the time. I’m pretty sure it’s because he idolizes his dad. He’s six, of course he does. He always wants to be just like his dad.

So I played along. “What would you do if you were a dad?” I ask.

He thinks for a minute.

“Mom, I would do the dishes.”

I can’t help but laugh, his dad hardly ever helps me with the dishes. So I am thrilled with this response. He is such a good kid. “That would make me so happy,” I tell him.

“I would wash the walls and make them shiny and sparkly,” he continues.

“That sounds good,” I say.

His list goes on…

I would play video games and watch tv.

I would work at John Deere, where my dad works.

I would take my kid, Collin’s age (2), to Sunny Side Day Care (that’s cute, the daycare from Toy Story 3). And I would let him sleep where ever he wants to. I would even let him sleep on the floor.”

“Wow. You’re gonna be busy,” I say. “But be a kid and have fun,” I tell him. “I’ll let you play games on the computer when you get home.”

“Okay. But, Mom. I also wish I could be Santa Claus.”