What would you buy?

Socks.

That's what they should sell.

If they sold socks I would buy a plutherah!

But no. That's not what we get.

That's right, people. It's fundraiser time. I hate this time of year. You think they would give us parents a break. I mean, some of us spend around $750 just to get our kids back to school. Public school. I haven't even had a month to recover from that yet.

Yes, I know. I know. I chose to have 5 kids. That I did. And I wouldnt' change it for the world. And education is important. Of the utmost importance. I want to be supportive of my children and the things that they are doing in school. I do.

But bedsheets? Really? They are selling bedsheets.

The cheapest ones are $26 each. How am I, a mother of 4 school age children +1, supposed to spend $100 on bedsheets that I don't really need or want? And I can't just buy one set from one of my children. Are you kidding me!? Then everyone would know which was my favorite child. And we can't have that.

No, I think they need to sell something else. Something useful. Like toilet paper. I would totally buy toilet paper. I know that we would use it. Or what about toothbrushes. You can never have too many of those things. Light bulbs. Shampoo. iPads.... no wait.

I vote for socks. Everyone needs them, they can be fun, boring, gender specific, gender generic, colors or white, long or short, all ages, all sizes, rated E for everyone.

Socks anyone?

How often...

...do you clean out your car?

You mean people do that?

What? Not everyone can pull out a meal from their car at any given time?

I rather like my large collection of random rocks and sticks laying on its floor.

Crayons anyone?

My glove compartment puts Netflix to shame.

I can't tell you how many half empty....I mean half full water bottles I have rolling around in there.

There may or may not be an extra pair of shoes for at least two of my children at any given time.

Oddly enough, I even saw a roll of toilet paper in there. Don't ask.

So if you ask me how often I clean out my car, I would respond,

...not nearly enough.

When I grow up....

I want to be a mom.

Yes, yes. I know. Having five children kinda puts me into that category. But I want to be more mom.  What does that even mean, right?

I googled Mom, because we all know that Google knows everything....and if it doesn't, then it can take us to a place that does. Here. is what I found.

Mother:

1. A female person whose egg unites with a sperm, resulting in the conception of a child.  Ummm...that must have happened...five times. No problem with conception. At. All.

2. A female person who is pregnant with or gives birth to a child
Oh, I know that happened five times. Felt that for sure.

3. A woman who raises a child.
Sounds simple, right? Phwwtttt! That "raising" spans 27+ years of my life. That seems to be the hardest part about being a mother, the raising, wouldn't you agree?

4. A creative source.
Is this an option? We have to be creative in every sense. Creative in distraction of our young children. Creative in the meals. Creative in the budgeting. Creative in the school projects department. Discipline. Instructing. Chore charting. Etc.

5. A woman who holds a position of authority or responsibility
This is the un-fun part of being a mom. Sometimes it's not all fun and games. I have had to work my whole momy-ed life. It's a necessary responsibility. One I resent at times. One that brings a lot of guilt. But, sometimes we have to do what we have to do.

6. A woman respected for her wisdom and age.
Yeah, not sure my kids are calling me wise yet. Old, yup. Heck, I have been 40 for about 5 years now and I am only 37. I can say I am respected for my meanie-ness, my annoying-ness. Oh, and I'm also "sooo embarrassing." I'm thinking my wisdom will be respected later. Keeping my fingers crossed on that one.

7. The biggest or most significant example of its kind.
Wow! There is power in that, wouldn't you say? The most significant...wow! It's in us, ladies. It's in me. I need to make sure, though,  that my example is one that will lead my children to God, to happiness, to family, to love. That's huge. Moms are important.

That's what I want to be. That kind of mom.

Yes sirrreee!

Guess what.

Sometimes, I say....no. To my kids.

Yeah, I know. I know. I'm Horrible Mean Mother.

"Say yes to your children as often as you can." That's the new good parenting motto.

Really? Really? How is that good? I understand that children should be allowed to be children. And that we should choose our battles. But sometimes, the answer is no. Plain and simple.

And guess what. I say no.

"No, you have to pull your pants up. Everyone does not want to see your rearend cleavage."
"No, you can't skip your bath today because despite what you think, that isn't a tan on your leg. It's called dirty."
"No, we can't have ice cream for dinner because then it will be gone when I need to go to my special place in the middle of the night."

But in order to conform...in order to appease...in order to be Best Mom Evah.....I have come up with a plan to say yes more often.

Wanna hear it?

Child: "Mom, can I play the Wii?"
Me: "Yes. Three days from now, you can play the Wii." See, good mom.

Child "Can I buy a toy?"
Me: "Yes, of course my sweet child. You can work your little tail off for 4 weeks and earn just enough to get that toy you want. Have fun!" Great mom!

Child: "Mom. Can I stay home from school even though I'm not sick?"
Me: "Yes. That would be very helpful because someone will need to take over my daily duties of cleaning and washing and slaving while I take an extended vacation at the local jail. That would be fantastic! Thanks for volunteering!"

What do you think?

Moments

I learned it from my kids: Rice Take

I've been feeling like my children need to learn how to do things on their own. Partly so they can become responsible adults someday. Mostly because I am tired of doing everything. Yeah, I know. I'm selfish that way.

I decided I would start this past Sunday. We were having friends over to eat and were having Hawaiian Haystacks. This recipe calls for rice. Cooked rice. Great! We have a rice cooker so surely Kobe could handle it with no problem. Right?

Cooking Rice: Take One

He pulls out the rice container and fills it up with the rice and the water.

"Now what?" he asked.
"Okay, now put it in the rice cooker," I instructed.

Easy enough, right?

I look back and he is pouring the rice and water into the cooker....instead of setting the container in it. Pouring it in. Ack!!!!  Praying it wasn't broken, we cleaned it out.

Cooking Rice: Take Two

Once again he measures the rice. Once again, he measures the water. This time, he puts the container of rice and water into the rice cooker, pushes start and off we go.

By this time, our friends have arrived and we visited while we waited for the rice to finish. Okay, let's be honest, Hubs visited, I finished cutting up the veggies.

Finally the rice beeps done and we are ready to eat. I open cooker. All it took was one look to know that he hadn't added enough water. Ugh! There was really no time to fix it. Everyone was ready to eat.

So eat it we did. Or at least some of us did. It was only a little crunchy. The adults ate with no complaining, but the youngers took one bite and they were done.

Cooking Rice: Take Three

We ended up making one more batch. This time it was perfect. Only it was about 40 minutes late.

Overall it was a memorable experience. He learned how not to cook rice. Isn't that how life is sometimes. We learn to do things by doing them wrong. Making mistakes. Trying again. And again. And sometimes one more again.  We try and try until we get it right. Or at least right-er.

Next stop, laundry!

From a child's perspective....

While walking through the woods this past weekend with my kids and their cousins, I overheard this conversation.

Aunt Kristie: "Hey guys. What do you say right before a tree falls down?"

My Camden, "Oh no!"

That's my Camden. Just keepin' it real.

I hear voices

Did you know that urine lies.

Yeah. I know. I didn't think it had the capability to communicate, much less lie. But apparently it does.

You see, yesterday Briggy was complaining of a tummy-ache. So I helped him calm down and take a nap. Well, early this morning he came in crying of the same tummy ache...except the pain  was more in the bladder area.

He went to the bathroom. He came out crying saying, "Mommy. It hurts when I pee. It burns!" Okay, first of all, what three year old knows to describe pain as burning. I was impressed. Then I was worried. So I called and got him an appointment to be seen a little later today.

So when we got there they had him give them a urine sample. Those are always fun to get from a 3 year old. He thought it was fun to pee in a cup. I just didn't want to get peed on.

After we finished up and she had tested the sample, she came back in with the results.

"Well, his urine is telling us two things. First it is telling us that he (Brig) hasn't eaten breakfast..." she started.

Hold it right there. I saw him eat breakfast. Twice. Once when he woke up early and then again when we brought in the Krispy Kremes. I am sure there is some scientific name for urine that indicates a lack of breakfast. But no matter the name, I saw my child eat.

Lying urine.


PS. There was a small trace of protein in his urine. Could be something. Could be nothing. I'm betting on nothing. Lying urine...sheesh.

Who needs London?

Did you know the Olympics are on? It's true. And guess what. I love the Olympics!

I love seeing people at their best. Competing to be the best in the world. Heck, best on the PLANET!! It's inspiring. Motivating. Sometimes unbelievable. We pray for them every night....the Olympians. Pray that they can do their best without injury.

I love watching the beach volleyball, swimming, track and field, diving, gymnastics, etc. Did you see the guy without legs racing..and keeping up? What about Missy Franklin! Way to go Gabby Douglas!! How cool is it that both women's beach volleyball teams made it to the finals. That's amazing!!

Olympics are awesome.

But I must say that my favorite events aren't happening in London. Oh, no. My favorites events by far are the Livingroom Olympics.

You've never heard of them?

There are times, sometimes in the middle of the day, sometimes late afternoon, and even in the mornings, when our livingroom transforms into a variety of Olympic arenas.

Sometimes its a swimming pool and my children swim the 200 IM, or the 100 Freestyle relay. They have a mean Butterfly. It's always a close finish. There's always a smile. And of course, they always take the gold.

Other times it becomes a gym. My gymnasts are quite amazing. The carpet becomes the mat and the couch becomes the horse. They do somersaults and cartwheels. Leaps and flips. Spins and landings. All amazing. All breathtaking. And of course, they always take the gold.

They synchronize swim. They dive. They take the gold in all water sports.

They sprint. They hurdle. They long jump and discus. They top the podium on the track as well.

 I watch them from the sidelines, which at the moment happens to be the couch. I "ooooooooo" and "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh." I clap and I cheer. I am shocked and I am awed.

 I am the announcer and the spectator. The crowd and the commenter. The coach and the judge.

They always break the world record. They always do things that "have never been done before." In short, they are practically perfect in every way.

I love that my children, when they see greatness, desire to be like it, and mimic it. They believe that they are and can be just as amazing. And I agree.

And so I say, as amazing as the London games are...and they are amazing..., Livingroom Olympics take the gold.

Hooking up with Jen Matlock's ABC Thursday.

So I Married a Deaf Man: Put 'em up!

"You are married to a deaf man?" they ask.

"Why yes. Yes I am," I kindly respond.

"Wow!".......long, thoughtful pause.... "That's gotta be nice. I bet you guys never fight, right?" they ask.

"Ummmmm....uhhhhhhhh....ehhhhhhh....hmmmmmm....Right. About that..."

Sometimes I believe people think that it takes an extremely charitable person to marry someone who is deaf. And that this same person is so kind that surely they would never disagree with, argue with, or blow-up with said spouse.

I am here to tell you, I am not that person. I married Hubs because he is amazing. I didn't feel sorry for him. I knew that things would be different than most marriages. But I didn't marry him out of the goodness of my heart. I married him because I loved him with all of it.

Secondly, I have zero problem disagreeing, arguing, or blowing-up from time to time. I'm not necessarily proud of it, and try to avoid it when it is healthy to do so, but it happens.

I believe any time you have two people who can communicate with each other living under one roof for an extended period of time, there are going to be some disagreements. It's just the nature of things.

Then add in two people coming from two different cultures, and that just increases the chances of said conflicts. Nature of the beast, I guess. Not me, the relationship.

You would think that our arguments were quiet and calm, seeing that sign language doesn't require voices. But this is not always the case. You see, we can look away and the conversation is over. But if the other one doesn't want it to be over, we have to get creative.

Like pounding on things to make vibrations: table, wall, floor. Or Throwing things....not at each other, but passed their line of sight. Flashing lights...rapidly.

And I bet you didn't know you can yell in sign language. Yup. The signs are big, they are fast, and depending on what you are signing, you can hurt yourself. Trust me, I know this.

So, do we fight? Yes...yes we do.

I'm a good person. Just not that good.

It was an accident!

I hate peeing my pants. It's a little embarrassing and quite inconvenient.

Oh, come on. If you have ever been pregnant, you've had an unexpected drip or two. If you have given birth to more than three children, you completely understand the "Stop, Cross and Pray" rule when you sneeze. STOP whatever you are doing, CROSS your legs and PRAY nothing squeezes through. It's like a game..only not really.

My first experience peeing my pants, that I can remember...because, hello!, we all peed our pants in the beginning...but the first I can remember was when I was in kindergarten. I was wearnig my favorite dress ever! It was white with red velvet hearts all over it. I had on white tights and Sunday shoes and was simply adorable.

You see, we lived less than one mile away from the school so that meant that we would walk to and from school. I would meet my sisters on the grass and then the three or four of us would walk home together.

This day was no different. Except that I needed to use the restroom. I am pretty good at holding it...two bladders and all. And hold it I did. For a long time. For almost the whole way. In fact I held it until I was about 2 blocks from home and then I just couldn't. Hold it. Anymore.

So I sat down on the curb. Released the floods and filled the gutter. Then I cried. Not because I was embarrassed. I cried because now my dress was wet and stinky and I had to walk the rest of the way in wet tights.

See, inconvenient.

The next time I peed it wasn't just on myself. I was in my first month of pregnancy with my first child. And anyone who has been pregnant knows that that first month you are seriously tired. It's hard work, making them babies. Okay, not so much the making, but the growing.    

Well, that night I was totally and completely exhausted. I am not exactly sure what I was dreaming about but I distinctly remember a huge toilet seat and warm water. "Wait a second," I thought. "There is something not right about all this." Then I started awake. In a puddle. With my arms around Hubs.

 Yeah, no hiding that one. Embarrassing.

What about you? Have you ever peed your pants?

Do tell.