Hair Haiku

Camden loves his hair.

Thick and wild and crazy.

What's a mom to do?
 

I'm thinking I might like breakfast a little more these days.

Sometimes kids just make me crazy. Not other people's kids....okay, that's not entirely true. But in general, I like people of all ages.

I'm more talking about my own children.

We are simultaneously (look at that big word) raising 2 teenagers, a tween, a pre-tweens and a 1st grader. I love them dearly. But there are moments when liking them....just simply isn't an option.

I'm a horrible person, I know. But at least I am an honest one.

But then, there are days when they save themselves and all is well in the universe. This was one of those times.

I have been having to leave early in the mornings in order to get to work. Most the time I am out the door before my elementary kids are up.

My little Camden has been having a tough time at school and my not being there in the morning has been hard on him.

The other day he said to me, "Mom. I wish you were here in the morning, You are like Breakfast, the most important part of the day!"

 Wait...did you just hear that??

I think it was my heart exploding!

Linking up with Ms. Matlock's Warm Heart Wednesday. Check it out!

The Power of Prayer

We have always taught our kids that they can pray about anything and God will answer them.

Help. Comfort. Guidance.

On our travels home from visiting family, my daughter was feeling frustrated because she was feeling like she wasn't getting an answer to her prayers.

As we were discussing this, my 9 year-old pipes into the conversation.

"Well, Kyla. I think I wasted all my praying power on my Lego. I lost it and then I prayed and found it. And then I lost it again and prayed and found it. Like 10 times. But then the last time I lost it, I prayed and I couldn't find it. I think my praying power is all wasted."

I guess we need to teach him that the power of prayer is more like the energizer bunny....

...it just keeps going.

A fieldtrip...yay.....

I lied. Kind of.

The letter said, "If you would like to attend, sign your name here."

I signed my name. But that didn't mean that I necesarily wanted to attend. Not entirely true.

You see, my second grader is going on a fieldtrip in November. And I, personally, don't like going on fieldtrips. Oh, I used to...like them...when I was a second grader. It meant getting out of school... getting out of homework... going someplace new. That's fun.

But ever since I turned 18, fieldtrips are....well.....more like work. 

For a working mother of 5 children, an elementary school fieldtrip means:

...finding a babysitter for my 4 year old
...getting a background check so that I can get the state's permission to hang out with my child...
... being responsible for 5 other children.
...forgetting my "To-Do" list for the day.

Slightly less than fun?

That being said, I do love my second grader. And he begged me to go on the fieldtrip. So I signed the paper, half-heartedly. I did it partially because I knew I was not going to be the "chosen" one.

You see, all parents who want to go (or lie about the wanting), have to sign the paper. Then the names are put in a jar and the lottery begins. Only 4 parent's were allowed to go this time. Four. For the whole second grade. My name was not being picked.

PLUS we were late getting out paper in. "Surely they have already picked the chaperones and I am just signing this so that my son sees me trying my best to go on that trip."

Surely nothing.

My name got picked.

Oh, lucky day!!

(ps. my work computer doesn't like blogger. I can't change the color and size of the word from here....sigh.)
(ppss. Sorry I have been MIA. I only blog when at work and my work schedule changed to a time almost impossible to blog. But I hope that I am back for good.)

The WC

The term "water-closet" was an early term for an interior or exterior room with a toilet.

We call ours a bathroom.

I use the term "we" loosely because apparently my boys think that they have a water closet in their very own bedroom. An on-suite, if you will.

They, along with several of their cousins, have been "using" their closet.

I couldn't figure out where the urine smell was coming from. I cleaned the mattresses. I cleaned the sheets. I washed the clothes. And yet the smell remained.

Finally, last week as I was complaining about not being able to figure out where the smell was coming from, Briggy says, matter-of-factly, "It's probably because we went pee in the closet."

You think?

I won't tell you that Camden came in this morning saying, "Mommy. Did you know that Briggy just went pee in our vent."

Slapping forehead! Sigh.....

Boys and their pee.

Of course you can....

As many of you know, my 7 year old is pretty short for his age. Despite his heigth, he is a very determined and capable little guy.

Sometimes I forget.

My older kids are all signed up for swim team. Kobe has been in it for 3 years now but I had to convince Kyla and Brody to do it this time. They don't love it, but they don't hate it, either.

Camden wanted to do it so bad. I wasn't sure he could do it. I didn't want him in over his head....quite literally.  I told him that if he wanted to be on the swim team he would need to swim across the pool, which he had never done and quite honestly I didn't think he could do. World's Best Mom, right here.

I couldn't have been wronger...er...more wrong..ummm....Boy was I wrong!

Today was swim lessons for Camden. He jumped into the pool, turned on his back and swam the length of the pool. He then flipped over and freestyled it all the way back.

"Now can I be on the team?" he asked.

"Yes! Yes you can, son." I was never more pleased to be proven wrong in my life. This child of mine never ceases to amaze me. And who am I to tell him what can't do.

Chances are...he can!

Now I just have to find jammers that come in his size.

Yes...yes I can.

When there isn't enough time....

......

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.

Some itches...

...need to be scratched.

Wouldn't you agree??

How to clean your house....

They are supposed to be friends. I mean, that's why God sent them to us so close togther. Right?

Brody and Camden...the un-friends.

They always seem to be fighting or being mean or crying. Well, yesterday I had had enough.

"Because you can't seem to talk nicely to each other, you are now no longer allowed to talk to each other for 30 minutes. Talking to each other will be cause for extra jobs."

You should see my bathroom. Oh how it sparkles!

Picasso's got nothing on my kids.

I have very creative children.

Most children, when making an art project will use crayons. Markers. Paint.

Not mine.

Well, that's not true. They do use those things. I know this because I have cleaned all of the above off of my walls in my house.

But I think my kids have taken art to a whole new level.

As I was making lunch the other day, I turned around to find my two youngest had removed the bologna from their sandwiches and were now plastering them to the sliding glass door. In all different shapes.

I tried to get a picture so you wouldn't think I was making this up...I am not that creative...but by the time I got my camera, they had consumed their masterpieces.

Let's not talk about the many many reasons this is disturbing and disgusting. Let's not go there.

Oh, the many uses of bologna.

Creative indeed.

Maybe a little too much T.V.?

"Did you always want to be a mom when you were little?" asked Camden from the backseat.

"Yeah, I did. Being a mom is the best job ever," I answered. And it is.

"Well, I don't want to be a policeman. They have to drive fast and I wouldn't like to do that," he informed me.

"Well, that is true. They do have to go fast when they are chasing bad guys. So if you don't want to be a policeman, what do you want to be?" I inquired.

Without hesitation he said, "I want to be a green ninja."



Alrighty then.

Ain't he sweet

The glasses came in early. 

A whole week early.

 I am so glad

Now he has time.

Time to adjust.

Time to make sure they are just right.

You know, before school starts.

And right they are.

Just look at him!

Sweet indeed!!

Four eyes and all.

Also here are two mahhhhhvelous recipes I have just discovered

 and are already favorites.

I have them posted on my new other blog...

"Okay...that was good!"

...the one where I put all my favorite recipes.

Not the ones that I invented...

because I don't to that.

Just ones I've tried..

...maybe yours...

and will definately make again.

And these ones, we will make again

Enjoy them !!

Heidi's Homemade Hot Chocolate

and

Caramel Apple Cider

So I Married a Deaf Man: Like father like son.

We just found out last week that my son is heard of hearing. Yes. I know. How did we not know? I mean...how could WE not know.

You see, I took him into the optometrist to have....what's that you say? "The optometrist? Don't you mean audiologist?"

No. No. It was the optometrist. We had his eyes tested and apparently he really can't see anything. Okay, that is not entirely true. All of us are just cloudy blobs walking around the house. Now imagine what he sees. Cloudy-er blobs. Not good. 

Apparently he is severely far-sighted. I have awful near-sightedness. I am a -3.50 and without my glasses/contacts I can't see much. He is a +7.50 in both eyes! Wow!! Plus a slight astigmatism and a little bit of a lazy/crossing eye.

How did I not know? Talk about feeling like a horrible mother. They asked if I had noticed him running into things. I honestly hadn't. He is pretty small and so I just attributed any of that to his delayed development. But Hubs says he has noticed him bumping into doors and couches, etc. all the time. 

Other than that, how would I know?? I mean, he is only in Kindergarten and so all of them struggle to color in the lines. All of them write sloppy. He isn't reading yet, so that wouldn't be a sign to me. Sigh.

We had to order him some special special glasses so that the lenses won't be so thick. They look like Harry Potter glasses. They will be here in about 2 weeks and he is so excited. If the crossing doesn't improve over the next few months, then he will get to wear a patch. My little pirate.

"How does this make him hard-of-hearing?" you ask.

Well, remember, Hubs talks with his hands. Which means that in order to hear him, you have to be able to see him. And since Camden can't see him...other than a big cloudy hand-moving blob...then he is considered hard of hearing.

That is why he is often asking me how to sign things. He is always asking, "What did Daddy say?" I wonder how much of what Hubs says he really understands. Maybe if Hubs stood across the room and "shouted" by signing really big, maybe then Camers would understand him.

See, hard of hearing.

At least in our world.

Can I have some suction please!

Who hates going to the dentist's office raise your hand! (I am raising both and and feet...and typing at the same time. Yes, I am talented.)

There are so many reasons to hate that place. The smell alone makes me sick to my stomach. Plus it sticks to you...just like bacon. Two hours after leaving I can still smell dentist on my hair. Ugh!

There is the biting of cardboard that is designed to either gag you repeatedly or penetrate your gums bringing tears to your eyes.

There is yuck-on a stick they call "topical." Even just the smell of Pina Colada makes my mouth go salty.

Then the needle, which isn't as bad as the crap coming out of the needle. Couldn't they invent some cinnamon flavored numbing agent? Or what about that suction thing. Isn't that what it's there for...to remove unwanted, undesirable stuff from my mouth.

The sound of the drill. Dry mouth. The purple bib. The pushing and pulling in my mouth. The list of unlikeable things is almost endless.

Camden, my 4th child, can add something to that list. Remember, this is my 5 year old who lives in a  three year old's body. He is smaller than most. He had to go in to get two darn fillings. They started him with laughing gas, then the shot.

He started off great. Got through the first tooth no problem. Then they started the second tooth.

Apparently gas was too much for him because in the middle of fixing the tooth, his body decided to vomit. .

"Suction. Suction!!!"

Who knew that thing could handle a peanut butter sandwich with apple slices?

Yes, the hating starts early in our house.

X Y Z

There is nothing more embarrassing than looking down, at the end of a long day, and realizing that you went the whole day with your fly down. And no-one even told you....

Unless you went the whole day with your fly down and your pants on backwards. 

Yeah, that's embarrassing.

Oh, and that happened today. Thankfully not to me; to my kindergartener. And the worst part? I didn't even notice it this morning before he left. I was just happy he had put on his pants without help. 
 
Chuckling to myself, I asked his teacher if she had noticed them throughout the day.

"Oh, boy. Nope. Didn't have a clue."

No worries. Once he found out, he shrugged his shoulders and continued climbing those monkey bars.

Kids are awesome!

Never gets old...

There are just some things you never get tired of hearing.

Today, my niece and her two week old baby came over to hang out. Her daughter is just so precious. My kids, all of them, took turns holding her and then asked to hold her again. She was a trooper.

After she left, my son asked, "When can I have a baby that?"

"Well.." I answered, "...when you get older and you get married. Then you can have a baby."

"I don't want to get married," he said.

"Well, you need to get married so that you can be a Daddy. You need to get married first that way you and your wife can have a baby together," I brainwashed explained to him.

He got a little shy...then a huge grin made its way to his face. "But, I want to marry you."

"You want to marry me? Oh, when you get bigger you will find someone that you will want to marry more than me. I promise."

Determined, he responded, "No! I just want to marry you."

He climbed up on my lap, wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me.

Nope, never gets old.

He's a keeper

My Camden.

Yesterday, he and I were waiting at the pool for Kobe to finish his swim lessons. Camden came up from under the water and said, "Did you know I can talk under water?"

"I didn't know that. How do you do it?" I asked.

"I go like this," and he smiled real big. As in show all his teeth big. Then he dunked is head in the water and shook it a bit. He popped back up and asked, "Do you know what that means?"

"Nope. What did that mean?"

"It means 'Camden is awesome!'"

He is a keeper, I tell you.

Then today, my kids were talking about how great it would be if we could get a cat. If you know anything about me you should know that I have a great un-love for cats. The whole rubbing up to my legs and purring in my ear and hissing at me in the middle of the night. Add that Hubs is allergic and there is no way we are getting a cat.

Camden comes up to me and asks, "If there was a different dad who wasn't allergic to cats, could we have a cat then?"

"Well, I guess if he wasn't allergic," I answered.

He thought about it for about two seconds. "I don't want our dad anymore. Let's get a different dad. Then we can get a cat."

Wow. He really wants a cat.

A keeper indeed.

I'm linking up to ABC Thursday and Writer's Workshop.

Life....grrrrrr

We interrupt our regular programing for a little thing we call Life.

Why is it that we, as mothers, blame ourselves for everything? Don't we already get blamed for enough?

My 4th child, Camden, has always been small. When I was pregnant with him, my doctor was constantly keeping an eye on him. I had to get stress tests twice a week for the last 3 months of my pregnancy with him. It was glorious. When he was born, at full term, he only weighed 5lbs and some ounces. (Don't judge.) He was healthy.

Since then, his growth has be slow at best, non-existant at times. Last year he went almost 9 months without growing. At. All.

For about 2 years now, we have been testing, watching him closely. He has delayed bone age, meaning at four years old, his bones in his hands were the size of a two year old's. He is very small. When people see him, they think he is 2 years old and say, "Wow! He talks great!" Ummm, yes he does. That's because he is five years old.

He has been tested for siliac, thyroid issues, growth hormone deficiency, heart murmurs. He has seen a pediatrician, endocronologist, cardiologist, nurtritionist, radiologist, and a guy with a really fun monkey outfit. He has been poked, proded, stuck to, drugged, and has a whole butt  load of junk toys to prove it.

We found out that he has a growth factor deficiency. Meaning, according to Stef's interpretation, his body makes growth hormone, but is unable to absorb it. If he continues to grow at the rate he is growing, he will only be 5'2". Not that there is anything wrong with it, but as a boy, that would be hard.

We have been diligently boosting my his calories. Heck, I have zero problem gaining weight. You would think that if he eats what I eat, he would be packing on the pounds in no time.

In his January appointment, he had gained two pounds and grown one whole inch. This was good news, seeing that he hadn't gained any weight or grown any significant amount in 9 months. We were so excited because we were at the point of doing some re-testing and supplimenting. The doctor decided to wait.

Then yesterday at his appointment we found that he has lost weight and has only grown less than 1/4 inch. In three months. Big sigh.........

I can't help asking, "Am I not feeding this boy enough? Should I be giving him something that I am not? What am I doing wrong? I'm his mother. And a mom is supposed to make things all better. Why can't I?" Logically, I know that I can't force his little body to absorb a single calorie. I can't wish five pound and two inches onto his tiny frame. And I feed him right along side my other children and they aren't having the same issue. And yet I frett, and blame, and mull and feel guilty.

Eventually we will figure it out. Eventually. But if we wait too long we will ruin the rest of his life. He will be in a carseat until he is 11. No girl will want to go out with him because despite his rugged good looks, he only comes up to their shoulders. You see the problem?

Mommy guilt. Leave me alone, already!!!

What have I done?

It's the end of the world as we know it...at least in our house.  Let me explain.

For 10 years I have been cutting hair in my house. Not because I am good.  I am not good at all. It is just that their hair is really blond and so any mistakes are unnoticable and so they think I am great, I am a cheapskate so I think it is pretty great too.

Then this weekend happened...

I DO NOT cut Kyla's hair. I want my daughter to love me always. I leave the cutting to others so she can dislike them when it doesn't turn out right. This weekend Kyla needed a trim. Kobe needed to get something from Target and so we made one trip. Kobe needed a haircut so we just had him get one while he was there.

Big mistake...

Don't get me wrong. His hair looks awesome. It is now styled and cute... But the problem is this: He was introduced to PRODUCT!

I didn't think it was gonna be a big deal. But then we had to buy our own to take home. And now his younger brothers have seen the product awesomeness and have all decided that they need it too.

Vanity is running rampid in our house. They are so dang cute with PRODUCT in their hair even I can't stop myself!! Just look at them.

What is a mother to do? It was all my doing and it can't be undone. Once they have had a taste of PRODUCT there is no turning back.

What have I done? What HAVE I done??