Pizza with a side of Drama

 So, when with kids, you never want to hear the word gun.  When with my kids – even worse.  They have no idea what a gun is.  So, if you want to get them to listen and to understand that things are serious – they won’t.  You might as well have said: “That guy is holding a sea urchin.”   Bad example.  They know what a sea urchin is.  

Why does this matter?  Turns out, we were at a restaurant last night.  Just me, two toddlers and Auntie.  Someone came into the restaurant and said that Holiday was being robbed.  I thought he said has been robbed.  Totally different situation.  Too bad for them, but I need not worry.  

Nope, he said IS BEING.  Damn it.  We are catty-corner to the gas station.  We are in front of windows, the gas station has only windows.   We can see scuffling inside.  Someone shuffling around.  Damn it. 

The strange guy who came to inform us:  “He was asking them to empty the safe.  He has already fired a shot.  I don’t know where the police are.”

Crap.  Seriously.  We are not safe where we are.  It is also not safe to go outside when the police aren’t here.   Roar. Oh there they are.  You could hear the roar of those engines and the cars fitted with cop shocks, Cop tires, etc.  No lights, just the roar of the crown vic.  Just by listening to the racing engine noise alone I know we are surrounded.   B wonders why those cars are driving so fast. 

Great news right?  Cops on the scene. Kind of.  Glad they are here, but now their presence will escalate the situation.  In my personal estimation, now the guy is more likely to get crazy. Time to go.   Past time to go.   Enter  post about the conversation with dessert.  Come ooooon…  Let’s go.   

Then the gumball machine.  Crap.  Time to get in the car.  Leave that machine (A is convinced it is stuffed with bouncy balls, B can’t figure out how you could put something that big in your mouth and not choke) alone!  A finds a “bouncy ball.”  She licks it.  Crap.  That was on the floor for who knows how long.  GUN people G-U-N.  Let’s move.

The waitress grabs a girls hand and says “come on ladies, we are going through the kitchen.  There is more cover that way.”  Really?  Cover?    Am I being escorted from a restaurant through a back door so that we have more cover from gun fire? 

Remember, I have Auntie and a 3 and 2 year old.   I explain to Auntie that she needs to put the leftovers in the car and grab a baby.  B starting to catch on that mom is nervous.  R starting to key up – just took the anti seizure, knows everyone is acting strange. Not what I need.  A – clueless and cute escapes my grasp and decides that 30 and flurries is a perfect occasion to dance through the parking lot. Typically, we would all dance, but now I am chasing her and she is dancing and giggling.  So cute and so scary. 

Listen people. GUN.  Swoop. One baby in seat.  Waitress watching both sides, back to the building.  Cell phone in hand. 9-1 already dialed Crap.  This is serious!  

Baby 2 in.  Questions “Mommy, why are your cheeks so red?”  Shh.  Watch your foot, door.  Car.  Here we go.  Driving, which way to go?  Out and past the blockade.  Fully prepared to tell the officer who stops me for speeding that I am still (10 miles out) running away from the stray bullet threat.  

So strange.   We were probably in very little danger.   But, the criminal was clearly an idiot.  He (my assumption) could have been miles away with just the cash from the drawers.  But no… let’s wait for more.  It was as if he was saying: "Here employee, leave my presence and the threat of the gun to willingly get me more money.  Let’s actually use the gun so as to escalate the charges that are soon to come."  Dumb ass.  Stop ruining my dinner.  

Needless to say, the girls now kind of know what a gun is.  A gun is something that can hurt you.  A handgun is something that people should not have.  Only police and hunters have guns.   

In other news, Brendan has now indicated that we are not allowed in public without him.   Crap – why do I tell him what happens on our adventures?      Also, the server for this, and other reasons is underpaid and under appreciated.   

watch out world

You take your kids out in the world.  You want them to know the world.   People scowl at me when my kids are in church, a restaurant or even the store.  But, they are still well within the appropriate wheelhouse for occasional tantrums or rude behavior.  I am doing my due diligence to make sure that by the time they need to behave – they will.   I see signs of this paying off already.  

Yesterday, B went up to the server and said: “Um… waitress – I mean server, I was wondering if you possibly had dessert at this restaurant.”  

Note:  They do have dessert and dessert was included free with the meal.  B can’t read that yet.

The very professional waitress looked at me, took my cue and then at the overly cute and polite child and said: “No, I am sorry, we don’t have dessert here.  Would you like some celery instead?”

B: “Celery is for the Wonder Pets.  It kind of hurts my teeth and I am saving my teeth for the dentist.  Thank you though.” 

This particular interaction is brought to you buy countless days in a restaurant when we had someone yelling  “no I-don’t-want-to-eat-that-food.  BAD.  I-want-to-go-right-now.”   It was also brought to you by the same girl that decided (under very very creative circumstances) to turn her water glass into a fishbowl. 

So watch out world, my toddlers are interacting with you.   You will be happy when my school-agers are, on the whole, productive citizens. 

Another new experience

So, last night we had a great opportunity to head out to a basketball game and dinner.  The girls have been asking for activities after school, and I had the day off.  I had all the energy in the world to plan an outing.  We decided Auntie’s B-ball game would be the ticket.   The girls were excited.  They love sports and had never seen a basketball game yet.  

On the way in, I asked if she wanted to watch the people practice hockey.  B, my hockey nut said NO, I don’t want to.  I need to see basketball.  A said sure we can watch, as long as we don’t miss the start of the game.  So off we went to the rink first.  They started to get antsy that they didn’t have skates.  B informed the crowd (of east side hockey nuts) that she can certainly make that shot.  Her daddy taught her how to shoot a puck.  

Off we went to the gym.  Now, there are SO MANY THINGS to teach children about going to a game, it is difficult to know just where to start.  First, we established the rule that unless you are taller than the arms on the foosball table, you need to stand at either end as the ball girl or get a chair.  One poke in the eye later, they agreed on the soundness of the ruling.   Now we make it to the gym.   

First rule: STOP (whole gym looks).  Oops – no yelling.   

Second rule: (the reason for the yelling) No walking on the court with your wet snow boots.   There are lines and they have a purpose.  Visitors can’t walk inside the line.   

Third: No sitting on the steps in of the bleachers; no walking on the seats.  Can’t tell which are steps and which are seats?  Too bad.  You still can’t do it. 

Fourth: No eating or drinking in the gym.  What? Everyone in the game is drinking – that is different.  Kind of.   What? Other spectators are eating in the gym.  Again… sorry.  Don’t know how you will learn this, but there are rules that are in place and you kind of follow them and there are rules that you have to follow.  I can’t tell you how to know which is which.  Good luck.   

Fifth:  Cheer when your team makes a basket.   That basket over there.  Until they switch.  Then it is this basket over here.   You know, the red guys.  No, not maroon-ish red.   What is maroon?  Never mind.  Cheer for Auntie.  

Sixth:  Yes, you can be the score girl.  One trick, the score always changes.  So you have to give me back the pencil and paper so I can help you.   Oh yeah, and the scoreboard, it has squarish numbers, so it might be a tough task for you.   Hope you are adaptable.  

Seventh:  There will be loud noises.  There is a whistle, a buzzer, game noise and people cheering.  Any of these may erupt suddenly.   No I can’t warn you.  No I don’t have ear plugs.  Sorry.  I find it annoying too.  What?  The buzzer is stuck?  At an adaptive recreation basketball game.  No, dear 2 year old, you are not the only one this is a problem for.  If they could fix it, they would.  Trust me.  

Eighth:  You may not travel commando at the B-ball game.  This is true for you dear sir, on the court and you dear daughter.   I am not sure how this happened, but you are still training and all the extra containment devices we can implore are important when in public.   Bathroom trips scheduled on 10 minute intervals now.

 

Ninth:  Don’t beg.  I am aware that we came from day care.  I am also aware that you just had dinner at 4:15pm.  It is now 6.  I am equally informed that you had a rice cake with nori and a juice box.  We will be going to dinner soon.  You are fine.   Informing the fine lady with fruit snacks that you are “just so hungry and would like to try a delicious fruit” is not appropriate.   No food from strangers. 

Tenth: Watch the darn game from time to time.  See that?  See that guy who could have made the basket on his own but decided to pass to a teammate who had a 3 percent chance of making it?  That is the athlete I want you to grow to become.  See that girl [Auntie] who has no idea the rules of the game but she is trying anyway – that is what I want.   See that guy who almost dunked.  You could do that too.  That was awesome. 

Ok, rules established, I am pretty sure we watched a few moments of the game.  We certainly had some of the game participants watching us.  We learned, we laughed – it was a good time.  B informed me that she was coming back tomorrow with sneakers.  She needed to figure out this dribbling thing.

On the way out, we were exiting the stands and I, clearly not versed in the 10 commandments of basketball tried to step across the line, onto the court.  Slam.  A really, amazingly hard shove came to me from an itty bitty source.  Damn toddler police.  “No mama, no on the court.  Mama, not for you.”   Damn rules.   So, game ending, new teams coming, other people leaving and suddenly I have a wrecking ball, pushing people out of her way court side so that she can leave w/o stepping inside the line.    Judging by the faces, I am sure a few people got felt up and a few others were pushed a little harder than they were used to.  But whew, we made it out of the court (and back to the restroom again) in one piece.  

Now, we have a new talk of the town.  Hockey love might just be replaced by basketball.  Just maybe. 

This is going to be one tricked out car

I know I mentioned previously that we try to teach the kids recycling.   They are still amazed at the truck sized can bin that they can contribute to in the neighborhood.  It sounds great when you dump the cans in.  There are so many different kinds of cans in there, that it is great fun to check it out.  And… well, it smells gross sweet.  They love it.  

But beyond that, we really talk about the first 2 R’s.  Reduce and Reuse.   Seriously, there are times when I want to scream at how well the kiddos listen to me.   Suddenly, we have a child who finishes her corn dog (don’t judge…) and looks at the stick with meat juice, ketchup and a little bit of burnt on corn breading and says: “Mom, I have a great plan, let’s reuse this!”   Seriously.  Not what I was looking for.  

I was on simple lessons like: let’s not buy the apples as Costco because they come in unnecessary plastic clam shells.   Or let’s color on both sides of a piece of paper instead of only one.   But noooo.  I get a girl who digs through the garbage and recycling bins to let me know how and why we should reuse things.  

We have "plans" to make a car.  So far, the top of the coffee creamer will be the gas cap.  Straws from a juice box will be the antenna and windshield wipers.  The box will be cut for the license plate.   A 20 soda bottle?  That will be the cowboy driving.  The corn dog stick? the door handle. The peanut butter top? Lights.

 

I am sure this is the first of many times when I will be bitten by my own lesson.  Welcome in mice, come on down and lick our toy car.

Craft projects

Every day the kids come home with an art project.  And some worksheets.  Some times they also make projects at home.  Cute.  So adorable.  But, they aren't always.  There are so many projects.  So many.  Then take the number of projects and multiply it by 3.  Now you understand my problem. 

The kids worked hard.  They did a great job.  They are proud of their work.   It is a lot of fun to see how they progress with skills and creativity.  So, I rotate some display.  I try to hang it up but it always falls down.  My flat surfaces are covered with 1 project after another.   Some are well done and cute - others are things I helped put together so it is very 1/2 assed to begin with.  Currently, the probelm is a orange juice container that is partially covered with construction paper and has a few rough windows cut out.   I want to throw it out.  They will remember.  They usually catch me putting things in the recycling. 

I get the "mom... my art does not belong in the recycling.  It isn't TRASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!"  I try the "oops, I am so sorry, I made a mistake."  Argh - I didn't make a mistake.  But I should probably keep one or two projects.   Perhaps. 

Just another morning

Me: Nice snowman A (on her shirt)
A: Here is his eye, his nose, his necklace and buttons
Me:  He is very cute.  Can I kiss him?
A: No, he doesn't have any teeth. 
Me: Do you need teeth for kissing?
A: the way papa does, you need teeth.
Me: oh... ?
A: Don't worry.  I will buy snowman some teeth.
Me: Funny Teeth?
A: No, tangled up teeth for papa.
Me.  OK.  I will wait.  Do you want piggies or a pony in your hair?
A: Pony.   POOOOOOOONnnnnnnnnnnnEEyyyy.
Me.  Ok.  How about a 1/2 pony.
A: No, pony needs 4 legs.  Half a pony would be hard to ride.  no half ponies.
Continues to shake her head.  half pony.  Mama, you are silly. 

I proceed with my plan to put up 1/2 her hair and leave 1/2 down in a curly crown.   Some mornings I love it when they wake up to talk to me.   It does mean that I will be 10 minutes late, but I don't think the boss minds too much. 

babysitters

What a weird thing to try to find babysitters.   Here is the problem:

1) Grandma is the default, but three babies is a lot and she already gives us more than her share of baby care.  Avoid when possible.  Guilt

2) Good friends offer - great.  But don't want to overuse, or have the babysitting be a replacement for seeing that person that week/month/year.   This might be an easier option if we had people to trade services with.  Like you watch ours once a month, we watch yours kind of a thing.  Beyond that, I feel like I am taking advantage of people.  Guilt. 

3) We ask around.  People know people in their 'hood, but since moving, we don't have strong connections to our neck of the woods.  So far, no references from people already using a sitter.   Boo.

4)  Craigslist.  We have found some amazing nannies this way.  Babysitters for some reason sound scarier.  I feel this need to lock up all of our personal info, hide the booze and cash and really hunker down for some strange person to come into the house.   It will work out, but I have fear about this option for some reason.  Call it a hunch though - the individual's who has the email address of sweetlipsnana isn't going to work out for us.  Again, just call it a hunch. 

Perhaps we will just never go out.  

I love you more

The past few nights we have been going to bed to a serenade of "I love mommy"  or "daddy is yours."  We even get the "mommy loves me more."  Apparently, each baby gets one parent.  Too bad their math skills are poor and there are really three of them.   Since R isn't in their bedroom, apparently she doesn't count.  

It is kind of cute to hear them think about how much they are loved.  And then it is annoying to break up the fights over something so silly.  Of course we love all of them.  It is always confusing to go and soothe one only to find out that that baby isn't "yours."   How can I keep track of all of the rules? 

How about this: shut up and get to bed!  :)

know yourself

So, we had a weird overlap of events.  Uncle brought over some x-mas gifts because we didn't get to see them.  Then, he also brought gifts for R's b-day.   Well.  this all turned out to be terribly exciting.   The girls, gift unwrapping experts now, opened those things in a hurry.  They were excited and surprised at all of the gifts.  They said their thank you's and even followed the house rule (mostly).  

This rule is that when someone gets a new gift, they get the first 15 minutes to play with that gift uninterrupted.  After that, they should let you see it and possibly share it.   But the first 15 minutes are non-negotiable.  Sounds fair right?  Apparently R's baby snacks didn't count in the first 15 minute rule.  Primarily because R would have eaten them all by the time 15 minutes were up.   Also, because she cannot get up and move away from everyone when they want to try it out.   Oh well.  She didn't seem to mind sharing. 

But B hit the nail on the head when we stepped away from the fun for a moment.   She said "one more toy and I am about to get greedy" she paused and said "I could start throwing a fit if I don't get to play when I want to.  It is a lot of excitement and I want more."  

At first I was not pleased that she was so ... greedy!  They have EVERYTHING.   How could they possibly expect/want more?   Of course there was more, nana hadn't even been up with gifts for R yet.  But how could she expect it?  OH, maybe because she always gets stuff.  That is how.  It has more to do with my problem then her problem. 

Anyway.  Glad she knows her feelings and could talk about them prior to just screaming for more stuff.   We talked about it.  But more important will be the change.  A wise man (Brendan) once reminded me of advice he got from the radio.  Sure.. it is super easy to pacify them in the store with an item on clearance from the dollar section.  But this is where they develop their habits.  If you let them pick out a 25 cent item now, when they are 12, they will still expect things, but now the 25 cent item won't exist and won't pacify. 

Less is more.  Less is more.   Time to go read the Berenstine Bears Get the Gimmes.

Full range of emotions

I am still thinking about emotions.  I can't explain to you how exciting it is to see your baby clap for the first time.  To smile, to giggle, to intentionally hug you.  They are all experiences I wouldn't trade for the world.  

But, call me strange... I also think the first time they throw something down, get angry or say I don't want to are exciting.  These are little people who  should have likes and dislikes.   They should get angry when someone takes something from them.   You get angry or frustrated don't you?

With kids, I feel like it is all about helping them to identify how they are feeling.   One of mine always says "I'm tired or I'm hungry" whenever she feels.   Well, my job is to help give her the words for what that yucky sensation is inside. 

But, at the end of the day, "I'm mad" makes me just as happy as to hear "I'm excited."  My answer is usually "Great, now what?"   I will likely change my tune when they are all teenagers and all they feel is angry and annoyed.  But for now, I will teach them all kinds of nuances surrounding their feelings and what to do with them.