Thankful Bags

I gave the boys some paper bags to decorate. After scribbling on his, Nicholas declared that he was going to put items in his bag that he is thankful for. Apparently he is overcome with the spirit of Thanksgiving. He brought me back a bag full of buttons and a stuffed sea turtle.

Then Nate started talking about what he was thankful for, so what you get is the tail end of that conversation, and then Andy being kind of cute.

Fog At Sunset

Today was a very hard day.

There is something about these kids. It's almost as though they need me to do every little thing.

Oh, some things they do just fine on their own. Nick usually gets dressed with few issues, for example. But the other things that he does on his own aren't always things that I want him to be doing. Such as fixing his brothers' toothbrushes (toothpaste all over the counter and floor) or getting himself a drink of water (climbing on counter, water on floor) or juice (climbing in the fridge. Or getting a toy off a high place.

Nathan absolutely refuses to do anything he's asked. He doesn't say no, he just avoids it. "My name is Megatron!" And getting him to get dressed or pick up a toy usually involves a lot of crying and counting.

And Andy just says no, runs away, then cries. But he does try to be helpful. A few second ago I had to stop writing this because he was trying to clean the toilet and got water all over the floor in the process. Also, he had dragged the sit-n-spin into the bathroom. When I came out, he had opened the drawer I keep all the extra keys we might find a use for someday and was putting them in his pocket one by one.

When I do have a moment of quiet it is usually interrupted by a scream because someone took someone else's toy, but usually before I can intervene the screamer hauls off and whacks his brother anyway. And that makes me so angry. If he wanted to solve the problem by himself, why scream? Just smack your brother and give me a few extra seconds of peace!

This, and the boys seem to think I should be fetching glasses of water and juice all afternoon. Give someone a cup, and soon I'll be getting two more, unless, of course, I get them before I'm asked, and then they will request milk, or juice, or some sort of snack because they are feeling rather peckish. I do give them snacks, but they don't seem satisfied.

Anyway, Steve has been on a trip since Sunday and is finally getting home tonight, thank goodness, because I really need another adult I can send the kids to when I start thinking the best way to solve the problem is to pock them each in different rooms forever and slide pancakes and American cheese under the doors so they won't starve.

Deep breath... deep breath... calm... calm...

After all, now that Dad is sue home in two hours, they are playing nicely in the next room.

Sharing

Andy has gymnastics on Wednesdays.

He absolutely loves his class. He might cry when I leave him with Lillian or Steve, and he might wail when I leave him in the child care room at church, but at gymnastics he runs right up to the teacher and walks away without turning around. Although he does wave to me every five or ten minutes. "Hi Mom!"

I cherish this time because, I am ALL ALONE! I have no other child to watch, so I am free to pay attention to Andy's antics, to chat with other mothers, and to use the restroom without company.

Today, a woman settled in next to me and started talking. I had never seen this woman before, nor had I noticed her son who she assured me has always been in the 3-year old class. By the end of the forty five minute class, however, I knew quite a bit about her.

I know that she works in retail and would rather be in bed to sleep as much as she can before Black Friday. I know she used to have a really great job in the midwest, but the company closed, and thank goodness she was renting, not buying. I know that her mother is planning on moving in with her next year, and that she sometimes keeps her son up until ten. I know certain details about her divorce, including how much child support her husband pays and how many hours he works. I know facts about her cervical cancer, her menstrual cycle, the biopsy she's soon to have, that she's getting her tubes tied, and that she had words with the nurse who kept asking "are you sure you want to do this?"

You think I'm joking, but I'm not.

Part of me thinks this woman was totally inappropriate, and is half afraid she will track me down and insist we become best friends, because why else would you share those details?

But another part of me thinks she might not have been able to help herself. There have been times when I've found myself in the middle of some story with a person while at a class or in a line, and I think "I should not be sharing this with anyone." But another part of me thinks it feels good to talk about it. And who is this other person? Probably someone I will never see again. I don't have the time to develop a relationship slowly until we reach the level of intimacy where it would be appropriate to talk about how often I shower. I have to jump right in, or these things will remain unspoken!

I may never see this woman again. Her son also does soccer, and his father usually brings him, anyway. I know quite a bit about this woman, you see. Except her name.

Stage Whispers

I've been discussing Christmas and gifts with the boys quite a bit. My secret quest is to find out what they really want as opposed to what they think they want, or the last commercial they happened to see on TV.

All three boys were sitting in the bathtub when Nick started mouthing words at me. "What?" I asked. I bent closer, and I could hear Nick whispering, but I couldn't hear the words. Finally Nathan realized something was going on and quieted down.

"I want to get Nathan a special transformer for Christmas," Nick whispered. "It's cool, and had two different color legs."

"OK," I whispered.

"Yeah," Nate whispered. "One leg is green and the other is yellow."

"Nate, you aren't supposed to whisper. It's a surprise for you," Nick whispered.

Why We Don't Homeschool

We got this book at the library called "My First Picture Math Book" or something like that.

It's a great book, actually. It has bright and colorful pictures, and it asks the reader to do things. For example, it will ask "Which number is the pink house?" And they will be in order - 6, 7, ?, 9. And Nate took one look, placed his finger on the pink house and said "Question Mark!"

But the best part was on one of the last pages. "How many more players are needed to make a team of ten?" was the question. And underneath are six shiny soccer players. Nate's face was a blank. I could see he didn't understand the question - after all, he's three. So I tried to help him out.

"Look, Nate. We need ten players for a team. How many are there here?" We counted the six players. "Is that enough?"

"No."

"So how many do we need?"

"Ten!"

"OK, but we only have six, so let's count and my fingers will be the extra ones, OK?"

And together we counted to six, and then I placed my fingers on the page next to the picture of the shiny players as we finished counting to ten.

"So Nate, how many fingers do I have?"

"Ten!"

"Um, OK, but how many players do we have?"

"Six!"

"OK, there are six on the page, and then we counted to ten with my fingers, see?" I wiggle my four fingers. "So how many did we end up needing?"

"Ten! Mom, why are you laughing?"

.

Potty Talk

Yes, it's everyone's favorite subject!

Actually, I'm not going to go into this much, today. After all, I haven't really started potty training Andy yet, as he's not even two, and Nate's been potty trained for over a year now.

The thing is, every once and awhile there is some, um, backsliding. And Nathan will decide he doesn't really need to go use the bathroom until he really needs to use the bathroom, and then he doesn't get there in time. And this may happen three or four times in a 48 hour time frame.

The most unfortunate part of this backsliding is that there is suddenly a lot more laundry to do, especially if sheets and mattress pads are involved. Additionally, some times Nate tries to get away with not telling me, so puddles do not get cleaned up, and then they dry, and I get to walk around the house sniffing, trying to figure out what part of it to clean and disinfect to make the smell disappear.

So... yeah, I lied about not going into it. I totally did. Sorry.

Seriously?

Is there anything worse than having to share your stuff?

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