Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Love and, Uhh, Logic?

Love and Logic Parenting, I've never taken a course but am fairly sure love and logic describe my parenting. I always, except when I'm screaming like a fish wife, try to lovingly explain, in terms my boys can understand, why I do or ask them to do certain things.

Bathroom privacy is a big deal for my boys, I've never been able to potty train my laddies without giving them their space, for pooping that is, they'll pee anywhere. And, though they demand their pooping privacy, I've yet to figure out the logic that will convince them to offer me the same privilege.

Lately it's #7. I am sure he has a Mommy Potty Warning System, it goes off the minute I head for the bathroom. No matter where he is or how sneaky I try to be he's there, my little commode comrade.

So lovingly and logically I presented my request for privacy.

Boy Mom: #7, Mommy would like to be alone in the bathroom.

#7: Why?

Boy Mom: so I can poop in peace.

#7: Why?

Boy Mom: Do you like Mommy to stay out when you are pooping? (This is the logic part)

#7: Yes. (I think he's getting it)

Boy Mom: Well, Mommy likes to be alone in the bathroom too. (The logic bullet)

#7: Ohhh! (Comprehension dawns in his little face)

#7: I'm sorry Mom! (He pats me understandingly) You can come in when I poop.

Boy Mom: Wha???? Sigh!

Maybe I should take the Love and Logic Course.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Contagious Cuteness!

#5, my extremely emotional just turned 8 year old, came home from the neighbors last night in tears.

"Mom, I have the Chicken pox!" He sobbed, pulling his shirt up to prove it. "Cody told me to, GO HOME, because he doesn't want to get it!' More sobbing.

I was out in my flower bed finishing up a 9 hour yard work extravaganza. I sat down on my arbor bench and looked at the 10 or so suspicious spots on his belly. Sweetie, those aren't Chicken Pox, they are just hives from your cold and allergies" I reassured him.

"But Cody said they were CHICKEN POX and they're contagious!" Ha! These boys have hung out all week together, the contamination has already happened.

"You've had the Chicken Pox shot and all our boys get hives with colds, it's not Chicken Pox!"

" How can we be sure? I want to go to the DOCTOR!" Why pay a doctor when 12 year old Dr. Neighbor Boy has figured out the diagnosis.

"Go show Daddy your spots and ask him to cuddle you." OK, he goes off sobbing and I return to my gardening.

"Mom! What am I gonna do about these Chicken Pox?" He's baaack!

"Sweetie, go take a long, hot shower then all the spots will come out." And I'll be able to finish my flower bed.

"Why would I do that? I. don't. want. more. spots." So, I guess I'm done gardening? Sigh!

I take #5 into the bathroom and put him in the shower. Over the sound of the water he asks, "Does it sound like popcorn popping?" I strain my ears to listen for someone microwaving popcorn.

"Mom, does it sound like popcorn popping?" He asks again more urgently. I listen harder.

"I don't kno... Oh sweeetie! It's Chicken POX, not POPS."

It was hives!

Friday, May 22, 2009

What The... Fridays

Sunday mornings at Boy House are a little stressed. No matter how organized and efficient I attempt to be on Saturday night, by Sunday morning at 8:00 am I'm in the drill Sargent mode, no one with in eye site is immune to my orders and commands.

"GET UP!" Teenagers.

"Did you shower?" What is it with 12 year olds, are they allergic to soap and water?

"Take your shoes to Daddy!" Shoes are Adorable Hubby's job.

" Help you brother find his shoes!" Every frickin' week!

"#6, shoes belong on your feet or in the shoe basket!" For the 10 billionth time!

"NO! white socks don't go with Sunday pants!" We're so classy.

"GET UP!" Teenagers, arghh!

"Put some toast in!" We eat a LOT of toast on Sundays!


"Comb your hair!" What is it with 12 year old boys?

" Leaving in5 minutes, 5 minutes!" This is all Adorable Hubby, he's the self appointed time keeper. Only time I really want to smack him!

And somewhere in the middle of all this the lone female, me, is madly, showering, blow drying, make-uping, deodorizing, and dressing hoping to beat that, "Leaving in 5 minutes" deadline.

So, last Sunday morning was the first morning with our 17 year old foster son thrown into the mix. I'm shouting orders as per usual at him and everyone else, walk into the bathroom, look in the mirror to see what my next get ready step is.


And realize I'm wearing nothing but a towel!

It's for real, #8 is officially one of my sons! Poor Thing!

Monday, May 18, 2009

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

What? I started it yesterday... it seems that my leisurely life of the past 18 years has made me soft. I come home from work with fried brain cells and tired, tired bones.

Some of you have asked what I'm doing. I'm an imaging clerk at a large local hospital. I can be called to work in the many parts of the hospital where radiology, X-Rays, ultra sounds MRI, for those of you who, like me, thought imaging was imagining spelled wrong. For a second or to I thought I would be working for Disney as an imagineer, uhh, not so much.

It's going to be a fun job, my managers and the co-workers I've met are great, I love interfacing with the public, I'll learn many different areas so no boredom, and it's great pay for someone who hasn't worked a day in 18 years and 7 children. No, I'm not the least bit bitter about 18 years of motherhood and all it's joys not being a qualification for work.

I must hold on to my Priorities, and we all know that blogging is way more of a priority for me then say, money, or paying bills, buying food. So have no fears I'll figure out a schedule that includes blogging. And think of all the great What The... stories I'll come across.

We also moved our foster son in this last week, now we're only 48 hours of parenting classes away from being fully licensed. Good thing were finally getting some help in the parenting department. Heavens only knows we have no practical experience. No, not bitter at all. I do find it a tad bit ironic that we have to let them parent themselves while we're at class. Hmmm! Somebody thought that through.

Thanks for all your prayers and concerns.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

What The...Friday (on Saturday)

Adorable Hubby and I have been attending a family relations class at church each Sunday. The class is small consisting of three couples, who have 5 or more children ranging from 4 to 21 years, two couples with 1 or 2 very young children, one young couple with no children and one older couple with several grown children.

This past week the class was discussing the concept of being an influence on your children. We talked about how many influences children face and how we need to be there with them to share each experience as a formative influence. Then Adorable Hubby talked about the need to, "cut the apron strings" those times when you have to hand them the keys and let them go alone, "That's when you and they find out how much of an influence you really are" he said. The class nodded in agreement, well, the Dad's did.

Then, the older husband, who moved from a life as a rancher two or three years ago to our little Suburban Soccer Mom neighborhaven (insert the slightest sarcastic snort), spoke up. "Well, there's just some things you can't do for your kids, for instance, inseminating a cow." At this point both of his hands came up pantomiming the process, one obviously holding the tail aside while the other moved into the position that strikes cold fear in the hearts of heifers everywhere.

As he finished his comment his hand mimicked the, er, insertion process, " You just have to tell them to stick their hand in there till they feel the right thing, if they don't feel it you tell them, well, go a little futher till you do." At this point I started glancing at the faces of other couples in the room.

What the...

Yep, there's sum things ya jist can't do fer yer kids!

I can't wait for class next week, I'm hoping we learn how they collect the seminal fluid from the bulls, that seems more applicable to my life ;0

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Inspired By You Wednesday

The last weeks of school are upon us, tonight was #1's choir concert. I had a hard time keeping my eyes dry and I think I injured my right index finger holding down the record button on my digital camera.

Its been 6 years of choir for this boy. As I watched his last performance I couldn't help but be overwhelmed with emotions. #1 is graduating from the same high school I graduated from 26 years ago. I wonder if he has regrets, things he wishes he'd done differently? That makes me realize that the past eighteen years of my parenting, now stands on its own to face the world, ready or not!

I'm sure that he'll need years of therapy to get over some of my parenting ;) But, regret is a damning emotion, getting caught up in the shoulda's detracts from the joy of this beautiful son of mine singing his heart out, meeting the world head up, hopes high. So, I'm going with... no regrets, well one, I wish I had a better camera.

Enjoy some amazing High School Choir.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Toothsome Tuesday

What a day!


Adorable Hubby got a job, and we got a free meal at a real restaurant tonight to learn about the product! Yay!

We have verbal confirmation that we are foster licensed! Now we' ll have 8 sons, time to rearrange bedrooms, what fun!

We had yet another baseball game, more awesome t-shirts on Mr. Pithy Pants. You'll have to wait until Friday!


#5 celebrated his eighth birthday.

He took a few self photos of his freshly showered self.

The first thing you notice about this sweet boy are his gorgeous eyes! He was my most wide awake wide eyed baby at birth. After a failed induction on May 1st he came into the world late Saturday night before Mothers Day. No crying, he just pooped on the doctor, who quickly handed him to me, then looked around the room with huge blue eyes.

#5 is such a friendly, loving boy! He'll give a big hug to anyone, he even lets our kooky neighbor lady love on him.

#5 asked for a lemon cake for his birthday. Yum,

Lemon Cake

I mix and bake 2 lemon cake mixes according to directions in my large Pyrex pan. We don't do 1 measly cake mix round these parts.

While the cake is still hot I poke holes all over the cake with a knife then pour lemon glaze over the whole thing. Lemon glaze is made by blending three cups powdered sugar and 1/2 cup real lemon.

So good!

Happy Birthday #5 and happy Tuesday everyone!

Monday, May 11, 2009

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

When The Tom Cats Away...

I had 16 hours of blissful aloneness! Each year our church sponsors a Father and Sons Outing, Daddies get to take their sons to a camp out with other men in the congregation.

For women with daughters this is a fun chance to have a girls night. For me, solitude, silence, no one to share with, my shows, no interruptions...

Here's a list of what I do when left alone.

Clean the house, because having it stay done for longer than 20 seconds is so worth it.

Plant tomatoes, no helpers, no one mixing up the plant tags so I don't know if I'm planting canning tomatoes or grape tomatoes, no one washing away the plants because they insist on watering with the hose on high.

Clean off my desk, do you see a trend here, I might be organized and immaculate if I had more me time.

Mop the floor, naked, how often do I get to wander my house the way God made me (well the way food made me), without freaking out my teenagers and getting my squishies goosed by my youngest.

Take a lonnnnng hot shower, by myself, no one climbing in, or pounding on the door or searching the house shrieking MOM, MOM, MOMMMM! over and over and over.

Talk on the phone while cooking a tiny little dinner, just for me. I nearly started a house fire cooking homemade french fries which I love but hate cooking for my crowd. For a moment as the smoke billowed I thought it might be fun to have some cute firemen show up ;) Then I remembered, "Oh yeah, my life is all about cute little men and their hoses, never mind!"

Eat boxes of Good and Plenty's and Crow's without having to share. The resulting tummy ache reinforced what I always sweetly remind my children, "STINKIN' SHARE WITH YOUR BROTHERS OR I'LL THROW IT ALL IN THE GARBAGE!" Er, did I mention I say it SO sweetly?

Sort socks, I deeply despise all things laundry, mostly because it's a process that just goes on and on and on and on, with unending interruptions that mess the whole process up. But, sorting socks, all by myself, while watching back to back "House" episodes, not bad!

TV, I am so sick of Dora and Diego and Disney Afternoon shows, and Discovery and History Channel. What fun, numbing my mind with my own programming selections until I fall asleep on the couch.

Sleep diagonally across the bed with no little bed buddies, don't mind the big bed buddy so much. Ahhhhhhh! Sleeping in until I wake up! Super Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

I know, I know, left alone I'm 5 or 6 cats away from a loony old lady, sorry mom, but oh the joys of time alone!

Sunday, May 10, 2009


Wow! Cause WOW is MOM upside down.

I had intended to write a wonderful post about Mothers and mothering. It would seem that being a Mom got in the way of wishing you all a Happy Mothers Day.

I got a book mark from #6, remember I mentioned how quiet he is and how I thought we may need to change our "Let deep thinkers think" policy and encourage him to share his deep thoughts? He gave me a darling little bookmark he had made at school. it has a poem on the front with his picture and a spot on the back for him to fill in the response, I love you mom, more than... #6 loves me more than Toast, Camping and Grandmas. I'm touched!

So here is my late, lame Mothers Day post for all the women in my life who reach out in so many sweet ways to mother me a bit.



Friday, May 8, 2009

What The...Fridays

Remember last Fridays What the... Fella at the baseball game? I have a feeling he's a permanent fixture, for the season anyway, which necessitates a nick name. I don't dare ask his real name because I just know when he says, " Wellll, muh Momma calls me Billy Bob but, muh Daddy, he calls me Bubba! And, I always say... just don't calls me late fer supper!" I'm going to pee my pants laughing which would make those metal bleachers a whole lot more uncomfortable then they usually are.

So, back to the nickname, I'm torn between Assassin or Mr. Pithy Pants. Eenie, meanie, miney, moe...I choose, Mr. Pithy pants, that way I can save the nick name Assassin for hip less folks, in too short t-shirts, everywhere.

Yesterdays ball game found Mr. Pithy pants wearing a t-shirt that said, "Heavy Weights."

What the...

Fortunately this t-shirt was a good deal longer, praise be to all that is holy. Even with all the boy parts hanging around here, I wasn't ready to see any bits of male anatomy exposed by a too short t-shirt with the warning, Heavy Weights.

And, speaking of Boy parts, the other morning #5 went to the neighbors to return a jacket left here by their son. #7 followed him outside and down the street wearing, you guessed it, nothing. Don't know what it is with that child.

#5, recognizing a tongue wagging situation in the making, took off his shirt and put it on #7. They came down to the laundry room where I was banished for the day, to tell the tale and show me their clever solution.

#7 thought he was pretty cute in his over sized t-shirt and, #5 apparently thought so as well because, later that day as I reviewed a few pictures on my camera I found a cute picture of #7 in the shirt and then a couple pictures of the parts of anatomy that the t-shirt was covering up.

What the...

Ahh, the joys of a life surrounded by men and their parts.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Inspired by You, Wednesday

Feeling cruddy today, hope it's not Swine Flu!

It's, for sure, a great reason to stay in a bathrobe till, uh hem, 5:oo pm.

My interview went well yesterday, it was comfortable and relaxed, as interviews go. Right after the interview They called my friend Suz, who works at the hospital where I interviewed and asked her lots of questions about me, "They asked me if you would be on time and functional" I thought I heard her say, she was on a cell phone at a soccer game.

"What did you tell them?" I asked, we both know saying we're getting somewhere by two o'clock really means three o'clock.

"I told them you would be on time."

"So, on time, but... not necessarily functional?" Dang, I should have listed a reference who doesn't know me so well.

"PUNCTUAL, not FUNCTIONAL!" She laughed at me.

Today my inspiration is my friend Suz! We share a name, 11 sons, one little girl and 16 years of ups and downs, good times and bad. She called a few weeks ago to tell me about this job, she's always looking out for me, heck she even has faith that if she can be on time to work, so can I. It's good to have such a great friend. Love Ya Suz! Fingers crossed that we'll be swapping work stories soon.

I'm off to another baseball game! Happy Wednesday!

Monday, May 4, 2009

Mondays Muttered Mumblings

Raising boys has taught me that phases come and go, there are ages and developmental stages that make me crazy followed by phases of relatively delightful behavior. The hope is that there will be balance and only half of my sons will be in a, 'make me crazy phase' at any given time.

My stress level has been at maximum over the past few months for fairly obvious reasons, no income, no jobs, no day care clients, then last week I realized that all my boys are in a developmental phase that is getting on my last nerve.

So, to better inform the boy parenting public I present seven brief case studies on what to expect in the care and nurture of sons.

1# is 18 years old, a senior and has a bad case of the, "I'm Pushing Every Boundary in the Effort to Establish My New Adult Identity Phase". Currently, he claims is no longer a member of the predominant Boy House religion, yet speaks about going on a church mission in less then a year. Does any one else see a contradiction? He finally asked for help finishing up graduation requirements with a whole 10 days left to accomplish it all. He constantly tells everyone in the family what to do including Boy Mom and Adorable Hubby whom he has decided to address by first name. Just don't even think about Telling. Him. Any. Thing. He is a study in opposites. I mean really, does a man who addresses other adults by their first names need help completing graduation requirements that they've known about for three years?

#2 is 16 years old. We'll just call his phase the, "My Sh** Don't Stink Phase." Sorry! There just isn't any other way to describe it. #2 is completely convinced that anything and everything he does is cute, smart and wonderful, especially telling #1 what he should do to make his life better. As you can imagine the arguments are beyond loud and hard to drown out. And don't you dare get in the middle of it because the whole thing is a lure to catch you favoring one side or the other at which point they'll suddenly be on the same team fighting like Spartan warriors against the evil parental horde.

#3 is 13 years old, and firmly entrenched in the," I need my own private Therapist Phase." If #3 is having a bad day he follows me around from room to room with sighs and mutterings until I stop everything and discuss with him the deep and pressing issues of his life.
"Why does that other kid want to play first base? Its' MY position?
" Why is my homework lab teacher so weird?"
"#1 and #2 are always telling me what to do, do they think I'm stupid?...Hey #5 go clean your room it's such a mess!"

My carefully directed therapeutic questions like, "Have you noticed that you boss your little brothers around just like #2 and #1 boss you?" Or, "Is it possible that some people think you're weird?" Are not well so well received, go figure!

#4 is 12 years old and loping along in the "I Can Do it Myself Unless it's Due Today then If You Could Drop Everything and help me, That'd be Swell Phase. It's hard to get too frustrated with #4 he is so happy go lucky and easy to deal with. But trying to finish up sixth grade is tough and I wish he'd give me a little more warning about research papers on Mongolia then 30 minutes before school starts. But alas sweet #4 has a stubborn streak that renders external motivation useless. Nothing gets done in #4's life unless and when he is ready to do it.

#5 is turning 8 years old soon, He is well into Boy Moms least favorite phase, "Everything, No Matter how Insignificant, is Part of a larger conspiracy to Ruin His Life Phase." At the park the other day #5's head got slightly bumped by the car door his brother was shutting. Oh the tears and wailing and head holding that ensued. I finally felt guilty enough to look, just in case he was bleeding profusely from a 6 inch gash...Nope not even a red mark.
This morning #5 came into my room, huge tears rolling down his cheeks, holding a disc from some electronic game. "Mom, I'm having a terrible day!" He sobbed burying his snot covered face in my freshly laundered, fuzzy, blue, bathrobe.
"What could have ruined your day at 8:00 AM?" I gently inquired through clenched teeth while trying to pry his arms from around my neck.
"PicMin II won't work, and it worked last night, and I didn't want it to not work this morning, and it just won't work, and all night long I wanted to play when I woke up, and now it won't work, and I don't even want to be awake if it isn't working, and now everyone is going to say it's my fault and my whole life is just ruined!"
"Uhhh, I'm not seeing how your life being ruined justifies boogers on my clean bathrobe?" Yeah, I wish I'd said that, instead I just patted his back and made soothing sounds until he was done. What else could I do? His "Whole life is ruined!"

#6 is 6 years old, he refuses to go to school each morning because it's BORING! He demands food every 15 minutes because he's STARVING! He won't eat meals because they're YUCKY! He wants to play with a friend right now or he'll DIE of boredom! He cries inconsolably when his friend has to go home because they only got to play for A COUPLE MINUTES! I don't even know what to call this phase but it is EXTREMELY ANNOYING!

And finally #7, the four year old baby of the family is in the WhHHiNNniNGgg phase! Do I really need to say anything about the whining phase?

I'm hanging on by a thread here folks and I'm beginning to suspect it's around my neck. But, I got a job interview for tomorrow on a job I was emailed that I'd been rejected for. So maybe I'll be leaving Adorable Hubby to deal with all this madness and be taking my, "Last Nerve, Crazy Mom Phase" into the workplace, which would really help with the, "I'm All Boy FEED Me Please Phase", that they're also all in. Wish me Luck ;)

Friday, May 1, 2009

What The...Fridays

Wow, I've been gone for awhile, it's amazing how busy life gets the last month of school.

#7 has been in fine form the past week. A few mornings ago he was playing with a yellow, smiley face, rubber, bouncy ball, "Mom, I said Magic-a-dabra. Look at me I made my ball disappear." I turned and looked at him standing with both arms spread out, hands open, evidence of his magic trick.

What the...

I had to turn around to hide the giggles, there was an enormous bulge in the front of his shorts. His Daddy often suggest similar magic games...

Then on Tuesday, Adam and his adorable little friend came running up to me, " MOM, COME SEE THIS! IT'S SO COOL!" #7 is 4 years old his little friend is 3.

"You really should come see this!" Said #7's friend, reassuring me that it was worth leaving my chair at the computer.

I followed them to the kitchen, "Look at that!" said #7. "I made it!" I was looking at a frozen chunk of ice cubes in the shape of the cup, that he had dumped out on the cupboard.

"Wow!" I said, keeping all but the tiniest trace of sarcasm out of my voice. Wondering why I had left my computer chair to see yet another mess.

"It's an Ice Scwulpture" #7 and his little friend announced.

What the...

How do a three year old and a four year old know the term, Ice Sculpture?

Don't you fear, I know you can never get enough What the... so, here is one more.

Adorable Hubby and I were at the ball park last night watching #4 play his first game of the season. We secured a coveted seat on the top row of the bleachers, where we would have a better view and a back rest. Sitting on the first row of the bleachers was a good sized fella eating nachos and wearing a shirt that said Warning Assassin.


Good thing he warned us, two inches below the hem of his shirt was, well...Uh hem. Did anyone else notice what is spelled twice in Assassin?

I finally had to move, when he loudly describe girl softball players to another parent, "Them girls is smart!" I didn't want to fall off the top of the bleachers laughing at our great view.

Our Family

Our Family