If Our Lives Were a Fairytale...

Hannah, in the eyes of her three-year old brother

Apparently it would be written by the Brothers Grimm.

Caleb's favorite story lately has been "The Three Billy Goats Gruff." I must have read it to him about a million times lately, and today was no exception.

"Read me THIS!" he ordered as I was putting him down for a nap.

"Ooh, let's give the Billy Goats names today, instead of calling them just 'little Billy, middle Billy, and Big Billy,'" I suggested, desperate for a fresh change in the oft-told tale.

"Yeah! That's a ger-ate idea!" (My son says "great" like Tony the Tiger")

"Ok, so this one's Caleb (little Billy), this one's Hannah (middle Billy), and this one's Sarah (big Billy)," I told him.

"NO MOMMA! You're wrong! This one's Caleb (little Billy), this one's Sarah (Middle Billy), and this one's Mommy (Big Billy)."

"Well then, where's Hannah? She's gonna feel left out," I warned.

"She's right here, Momma! (pointing to the Troll)"

So I clarified, "You think Hannah should be a troll?"

"Uh-huh, Hannah's the Mean Troll!"

Sorry Hannah, but somebody had to be the Troll, I guess. Don't worry, you're still Momma's Princess, even if you're a Troll in your brother's eyes ;)

Another Homeschooling Fail, Courtesy of Mommy :)

I have always dreamed of sharing my love of literature with my children. It's a true joy for me that they can now sit and listen to stories I've loved all my life, and to see them really grasping what they hear. For the last month, they've been listening to me as I read "Charlotte's Web," and we finished the last chapter yesterday evening before bedtime. I'm somewhat ashamed to say I broke into ugly tears on the last paragraph- but I digress...
Tonight, in celebration of completing the story, I got a copy of the movie version for them to have a movie night. They were so thrilled, and all the more so when Ryan made homemade caramel popcorn and they got to decorate little popcorn bags with stickers (have I told you about how I'm repulsed by stickers- my children treat them like diamonds or million dollar bills when they're allowed to use them). It was such a lovely evening!
The girls, in their excitement, also decided to make little puppets for the movie before showtime and during Caleb's naptime. Hannah made a little pink bug on a Popsicle stick, while Sarah decided to make a "spider" for her puppet, though it looked less like a spider and more like a cross between a bumblebee and a centipede. When she proudly brought her "spider" downstairs after the movie to show Daddy, Ryan asked, "Hmm... that's really interesting. Do you know how many legs spider's usually have, Sarah?"
"Sure Daddy, that's easy. Eight!"
"But why does your spider have 16 legs?," he asked.
"He doesn't...see, there's 8 on this side, and 8 on the other," my little sweetie answered.
"Ummm, that means 16 legs... see. One, two...[counting thru 16].

"I guess I probably should have taught her that 8 legs means 4 on each side, huh?," I remarked sheepishly from the kitchen, seeing his barbed look my way. I knew full well the meaning of that look... "Do you teach them NOTHING?!," it said.

So Ryan then turned to Caleb. "Caleb, what has Mommy taught YOU about Spiders, Buddy?"
Caleb's in the midst of hopping and crashing cars into each other, looked up and swiftly answered, "Dey come from SPIDERMAN!"
"Greeeeaaaaatttt job Hunny! You are doing a bang up job teaching!," said my sarcastic love.
...
Another homeschooling fail brought to you by Mommymel. :)
(I swear I really taught them a lot more about spiders, and basic addition/mathematics... really! If it weren't Ryan doing the asking, I bet they could spit out tons of incredibly accurate facts [she said while rolling her eyes, ugh!])

My boy is going to heaven IN STYLE...

Storytime at night is always a precious time. One of us takes the girls in one room, while the other takes Caleb in his (we switch every other night to get "facetime" with all the kids), and we try to forget the rush to get them in bed and have "us" time, instead focusing on getting in those last few snuggly moments of the day. At least, it's that way on the days they haven't acted like monsters. :)
Last night was an especially snuggly night, and as I read Caleb's Bible story for the evening, he listened more intently than usual. We read Bible stories to the kids and pray before their library-selected story each night, and typically, Caleb is about as interested in his Bible story as he is in any food that is not pizza or mac-n-cheese. He acts like its a serving of brussell sprouts he has to choke down before the main course. But last night he learned about how Jesus loves the little children. After the story, we sang "Jesus Loves the Little Children," and then he looked up at me with those big grey eyes and asked, "Momma, where is Jesus?" I explained how Jesus is in heaven, but he gave us the Holy Spirit to live in our hearts so we can talk to Jesus whenever we want and be close to HIM. Big stuff for such a little guy, I know, but what can I say, I'm not great at explaining major theological issues with three year olds on the fly.
Caleb's, ever concerned with matters of transportation, then asked, "Momma, how'r we gonna get to heaven with Jesus?"
"When it's time, he's gonna come get us and fly us off to heaven with him"
"But how?"
"He just can, Buddy. I'm not sure how it works really."
And then he presented his Grand Plan...
"Well Momma, what's gonna happen is, I'm gonna save a seat on my Space Shuttle for Jesus, and when we go to heaven I'll drive and Jesus will sit next to me n' Daddy, and you and Sissies will sit in the back. But you won't be scared cuz I'll give you flashlights."

And there you have it: Caleb's grand plan for how to get to heaven. Thousands and thousands of years of theology, and my boy solved all the problems in a second or two. Ah, the sweet perfect faith of a child.

The 6 a.m. wake-up call...

I LOVE my sleep. I LOVE to lay dreaming and resting, and when I wake, I like to wake just after 7. I know others like to wake earlier, but others. are. crazy! And by others, I mean my little early-rising peanuts. Apparently their internal alarm clock is set to 6, but I can't figure for the life of me why.
I remember being that age and having the same issue... 5:30 am would roll around and I'd just be laying their waiting to be allowed out of my room to go take over the world, but now I guess I'm out of touch because I just want them to be quiet and leave me the heck alone at that time. You don't poke a sleeping bear, do you? So don't BUG me!
Mean, I know.
Last night, we told Caleb not to bother Mommy at night (for about the 400 thousandth night in a row, sigh), since he spent the previous evening calling me to play from 1 am till 4 am when he finally diegned to fall asleep again. Our instructions last night were as follows: "Do NOT call for Mommy unless you are hurt or on fire. Got it Caleb?"
"Djess"
"When can you call Mommy?"
"If I'm hurt or on Fi-er" (add adorable eyelash batting and your mental picture is complete)
"Good, Night night!"

Soooooo...
6:15 a.m. this morning I hear in a lowing, plaintive voice:
"Mooooooommmmmmyyyyyyy! I'm on FIIIII-EEEEERRRR! "
Knowing full-well he was not on fire, I snickered and endeavored to ignore him and return to dream land.
But he continued. The boy repeated that he was on fire about 30 times before I finally lost my schmidt and stomped off to his room.

"What!? YOU ARE NOT ON FIRE!"
"Is it wake up time yet? I'm on fi-er. (eyelashes: bat bat)"
"UGH! GO. TO. SLEEEEEEEEP!"

And so the battle continues, until either I win, and he begins a kinder-gentler sleep cycle (see: teenage years), or I give up and allow him and his sisters (who while away their morning time singing (screaming??) garbled versions of radio tunes) to wake up and take over the world according to their wishes. I think they're winning. Dammit.

"What're we going to do today, Brain?" ... "Try to take over THE WORLD!"

It's the little things I'll miss...

My little buddy Caleb turned three this past Friday. Something about that rings of sadness for me. Not a baby anymore. Not gonna need me so much soon.


I know, I should be jumping and shouting, I mean, the boy didn't even sleep thru the night consistently until he was 2 1/2, so I should be utterly thrilled he does that now. And he's fully and completely potty trained, which is just awesome. I'm tickled to get rid of his diaper pails, his extra wipes containers, etc. And he's riding a "big boy bike" he got for his birthday... so no more stashes of tricycles hogging space in the garage. I could go on for the benefits,...

but...


I also have to sell my glider rocker. The one I so lovingly (and at times grudgingly with tears of sleep deprivation) rocked my downy-haired boy on night after night during feedings. We just don't need it anymore. But there in that chair, I conjure remembrances of his sweet baby aroma, his adorable coos, and his wiggly games as he attempted to escape my lap during bedtime stories.


Already long gone are his crib, his onesies, his baby spoon/fork sets... and on the chopping block now are added his strollers, smaller carseats, and various baby toys. His board books went to a friend this week. Sigh.


As a trade, I now have this wonderfully independant, immensly charming little stinker. He's just an awesome kid, and not a day goes by that Ryan and I don't share a glance across the room at each other and find each other beaming when we've seen him doing something hilarious, something new, or something brilliantly mischevious. He's crossing into worlds of imagination that I relish joining him in to get away from the adult world. Worlds where superhero's reign supreme and all dragons are either vanquished, or squashed to their end by an even more Terrible Caleb-Monster, depending on which part in his mind-stories he has chosen to play in that day. Race cars bring adventure, and fires beg to be quenched with sisters to be rescued.

And he's trying so hard to care like his sisters about learning new things in school, though his interest still lasts a mere 5 minutes. He'll joyfully declare "I know all my (colors, numbers, etc.) now!" after getting just one right, only to go woefully wrong with the next question, with sisters and Mommy snickering nearbye but still cheering him on all the more for the next attempt. He's shy like his sisters were at this age at first with new folks... but then after about 5 minutes around people, he'll open up with some of the most charming, hilarious conversation topics- the boy can really work a room with is humor and sparkling eyes.


His boundless energy is unbelievable. The boy never actually requires a nap, though he gets one each day so I can keep up with him... it's Mommy who needs the break, not him, and we both know it. And, like the lovely three-nager his sisters were, he's boldly and unashamedly trying defiance on for size, now shouting "NO! I. Don't. Want. To. and I'm. NOT. Gonna!" when told to do things with an adorable but maddening little foot stomp accompanying each syllable. He always backs down still, but it's funny because he always puts up a good fight first.

Maybe not so much for "Daddy-big-spanking-hands", but he at least works a good fight for "Mommy-butterfly-kisses-style-pitiful-spankings". ;)


He's such a little GUY, too, which brings so many humorous smiles to my life. He's delighted that he can now pee standing up like a man, relishes any-and-all guy role models (superheros, especially Spiderman, are the awesomest, to him), farts with joyous glee, and rapturously tortures his sisters to no end.


And much to Ryan's chagrin, he's definitely left-handed like his Mommy (tee hee).


I can't wait to see what my little guy will be like in the years to come, but it's just so tough to say goodbye to baby stages.


Until I remember the sleep deprivation.


THANK YOU SO MUCH CALEB FOR LEARNING TO SLEEP!


Now could you please do it past 7 am? Just once in a while?

My child is an Evil Genius...

Or I'm really dumb- you choose. Either way, an almost-three-year-old bested me tonight...

Caleb and I were having our usually dinnertime exchange tonight after his first 2 bites of dinner..."Mommy, can I be done now?"
"NO!"
"Pleeeeeease, I wanna be done. How many more bites?"
"No! Eat your food, I'm not doing this again tonight (I said, knowing full well that we do this same routine every.single.night)...
(1 minute later)
"Can I be done?"
"NO!"
(20 minutes of the same routine repeated over and over again later)
"Can I be done NOW?"
"Caleb, you are going to make me so mad I turn purple. Do you want that?" (I asked, in perhaps my stupidest moment yet)
"YES! Purple Mommy, Purple!"
(Hand to face, Mommy's shoulders sink in failure)
"Caleb, that was not a goal, that was a threat. I'm not going to turn purple. Your going to make Mommy so mad that it's gonna make Mommy nuts. That's not a good thing Bud. Now EAT!"
"NO! Turn purple!"
"No, I'm not turning purple, and that's final!"
"PLEEEEEASE turn purple Mommy!"
"NO!"
(1 blissfully quiet minute later)
"Can I be done now? How many more bites?"
"CALEB! STOP IT AND EAT"

... then, from the living room I hear Ryan chime in: "Wow, he's good! Manipulative like his Daddy. You turned right purple there"

Yes, my boy is an evil genius. He has learned just how to make me change color on cue.

(What Mommy imagined happened next. )

Lost in Translation

This evening we were listening to the holiday music channel while cleaning the dinner table (Christmas music already, Oh bliss!), when I looked up at the crawl at the bottom of the screen and learned something interesting I wanted to share with the kids...
"Neat! Did you know that legos were named LEGO after the danish words 'Leg Godt' which means 'Play Well'? I never knew where they got their name."
Hannah: "What's Danish?"
Mom: "It's the language people speak in Denmark."
Hannah: "What's Denmark?"
Sarah (in her "duh!" voice): "Ugh, you know, that place we go shopping all the time."
Mom: ??
Mom: "Sarah, do you mean 'Walmart?'"
Sarah: "No Mommy, I think it's called 'Denmart,'... I'm pretty sure. Right, Hannah?"
Hannah: "Yup!"

It's seems I'm wrong. Two against one- it's only fair, right?