From the mouth of babes...

I was pretty young when it happened for the first time. I don't remember much about the details because it was so long ago. But I do remember this:

"Why are they staring at me?

"Please tell me that she did NOT just tell me that I look like my FATHER did when he was my age. The nerve!

"Why are all these people touching me? And grabbing my hands?

"I know I am cute. I know I smell good. Please, people, leave me alone.

"I just want to sleep. Oh, and use the ladies room. Wait, I have a diaper so the ladies room is right here. Whew.

"I am also a little hungry. What can I suck on? No binky....no bottle...no mommy.... Oh, no. What can I put in my mouth?

"What is that thing down there. It looks like it would do the trick. Maybe if I could....just...grab...hold...Got it!

"Now, let's put that sucker into my mouth!"

And that was the first time I remember putting my foot into my mouth. I try not to do it anymore. Not only is it gross, but it just isn't appropriate.

My son, however, has no problem sticking his foot in his mouth. I saw him in the car the other day biting off his toenails. (Let's all say it together, 'Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!')

So I say to him, "Kobe, stop doing that. It is gross."

"How else am I supposed to cut my toenails?" he responds.

"Ummm...you know those things called toenail clippers. I think that is what they are for. And if you can't find those, fingernail clippers work too." I explain.

"I don't know how to use them and this is quicker." he answers, exasperated.

"You know Kobe. You walk around outside on the lawn without socks on, right?"

"Uh,huh."

"Well, can you tell me what Rufus does on the grass...several times a day."

Thinking, "He poops and he pees."

"Yup. And you walk on that same grass with your barefeet and then you put your foot into your mouth." I am watching his face through the rearview mirror at this point.

This is my germ-a-phobic son. His face wrinkles and he lets out a "Ewwwwwww. Gross."

Needless to say, that may have been the last time he stuck his foot in his mouth as well.

What? That isn't what was meant by Mama Kat's prompt. Ugh! Oh well. Remember, I am functioning with half a brain!

Graffiti

Don't you just love going to the park on a nice springy afternoon? I do too! Yesterday was no different. I dropped off two of my kids to piano lessons, picked up the teachers two kids and headed to the park for an hour. Love it!!

When I got to the park and looked around I was saddened. Oh, don't worry. The swings and slides and playground equipment were all still there. I was saddened when I saw this:

Why would anyone want to put graffiti at a park where little children play! Does it make them feel powerful, like they rule the playground? Perhaps childhood scars are hard to heal? But the more I looked, the more I saw...

It seemed to be everywhere. And it seemed to be multiplying...even while we were there. What kind of people write on playground equipment?

What? Wait a minute...

That looks a little juvenile...not that writing on something other than paper for fun is mature, but something about it was familiar. 

Oh. My. Goodness. 

Oh yes. Apparently my son is the type of person who finds joy in destroying public property. Oh, they are starting younger and younger...

Big sigh......Guess what we get to do this Saturday. It is a trip to the park. Only this time instead of a marker, we have this in hand:

So I married a Deaf man V: Hey!!

I learned early on in our marriage that my  husband doesn't like me to throw things at him.

You may be thinking "Duh! What sane person enjoys being hit in the head with a flying object."

True, true. But let me explain.

You hearing/hearing couples have the luxury of a voice that can almost always be heard, no matter where you are in the house. Let's say that you are sitting on the couch in the middle of the day for no apparent reason watching all the shows you have DVR'ed  and now finally have the chance to watch them because the kids are napping and your husband is home sick with who knows what and you become thirsty. Your husband walks by and you holler out to him,

"Hey Babe, can you bring me back a glass of water?"

"Sure." He responds without commenting on how it is 1:30pm and you are still in your PJ's and haven't even brushed your teeth.

How nice. How convenient.

Well, us Deaf/hearing couples don't have that luxury. There are only a few ways of getting a deaf spouse's attention:

Flashing the light on and off. This works great at night, as long as the hubs is in the same room or at least in a place where he can see the flashing. But is doesn't work so great when it is in the middle of the day and you have your hands full and are not near a light switch. Frustration.

There is the whole waving of your arm like you are trying to guide an airplane for take off. This, again, only works if your spouse can see you straight on or at least from his peripheral. It is a great exercise, however, for the arms. It is also really great at looking stupid in front of your kids, in the middle of the supermarket, and across the pew at church. Not. So. Great.

There is always the stomping/slapping/slamming the floor with your hands, feet, child, or whatever is in reach. If all floors had wood foundations, this would solve my problem. But who wants a house like that.

And now the final option is to throw things. This assures that the hubs will know that I am trying to get his attention. I don't throw hard things, like dumb-bells, footballs, sharp knives, or anything like that. I stay away from appliances and other electrical objects.

However, when I am sitting on the couch, nursing my 2 week old baby, and Brody is once again roping Camden around the neck while Camden is screaming, and there sits my husband, back to me, looking at Mafia Wars or Facebook, or some other really important page on the internet, oblivious to the round-up that is taking place right BEHIND HIM, I think it is quite alright to take whatever is next to me and chunk toss it at his head him. Whether it is a sock, an blanket, a wet diaper that was recently changed, whatever the object, I believe I am justified in doing so.

Hubs begs to differ. And so, I have TRIED to just throw something past his line of sight. That being said, I am not that great of an aim. I can't help it if some of those objects change direction in flight. I can't be blamed if the shoe pegs him in the side of the head.

What is a frazzled mother to do? And so I throw, hoping that my aim will improve.

I think I know what to get hubs for Father's Day.

You will feel a pinch....

My 4th child is extremely small for his age. He is 4 years old and is still in 18 month pants. It is sweet, but when he is only 5'2" at the age of 40, he may not think it is that sweet. (Not that being 5'2" at 40 years is bad or anything...ahem.)

We recently took him to an endocrinologist (thanks spell-check). She agreed that he was short (thanks) and said we needed to get some blood drawn for testing. "This is gonna be fun!" I thought to myself.

Finally the day arrived for the drawing of blood. We get in the car and I am talking to him about what is going to happen. I told him that it would hurt but I would be holding him and he would be sitting on my lap. I assured him that it would be okay if he was a little scared.

He says, "I'm not scared, Mommy. But my belly is." (sniffle, sniffle) I told him that is was okay for his belly to be scared, but that he was going do great. We sign in, sit down and wait for our turn. Finally it comes and he starts to look up at me with concern. I set him on my lap and talk him through it all.

The man and woman who did it were wonderful. They found his vein and he whimpered his way through telling them what he got for Christmas. Sadly, they weren't able to get all that they needed out of the one arm so we had to do the other arm. They said something about him not drinking enough water, or something.

He had been really quite brave through the first arm, but I think the second one was almost more than he could take. PLUS they stuck him and then had to fish around under the skin before they found a vein. He was crying, and telling them about his dog and his brothers and, and, and...poor kid. Whew. Finally the hard part was over. The only thing left was a urine sample.

Off we go into the bathroom with our little cup. "This is gonna be easy," I thought to myself. He is a guy...you know...the whole standing up thing would make peeing in a cup that much easier. But he said that he just couldn't do it that way. Stage fright. So I plopped him onto the seat and positioned myself and the cup in a way that I could catch the urine without getting it on my hand.

Well, apparently he HAD drank enough water and the rapidly filling cup was proof.  Without really thinking my next plan of action through, I quickly pulled the cup out from under the stream which caused the cup to bump his..ummm...errr...the source of the stream.

I was directly in the line of fire, and so, yes, my son peed on my face. All I could do was laugh. I told him that he had just done two things that none of his siblings had done before: given his blood and peed on his mother's face.

The things we do for our children.

The Ultimate Diet

We are on a diet in my house. It's called the S'more diet.

"I will have s'more of that."

"Who wants s'more?"

"Put s'more of that on my plate, please."

So in honor of our diet....

Who wants S'more?

(Kyla is still going on a camera strike. She did gobble up a few s'mores herself...in case you were wondering.)

Hobby?

"What is your hobby?" 

Ugh! I hate this question. Perhaps 20 years ago it would have been an easy question to answer. Perhaps if my life wasn't so jam packed full of stuff it would be simple. But every time I am asked that question I am stummped. I don't have an answer. 

So I thought that maybe looking up the word in the dictionary would help.  

Any of several small falcons of the genus Falco, formerly used for catching small birds or game.

  

Okay, so that was the second definition, but I wanted to share that bit of information with you. Cool, huh. 

Here is what definition #1 said:

An activity or interest pursued outside one's regular occupation and engaged in primarily for pleasure.  

That didn't really help. So I thought about what my definitions for hobby would be. Here is what I came up with:  

1. an activity that one does ONLY for pleasure and while doing it losses track of time and many times will cause them to put off other things that are less exciting or enjoyable like the dishes, laundry, toilets or making dinner and causes them to ignore their children entirely. 2. an activity that one participates in IF they have free time, time to spare, time to waste, an extra hour in their day. 

Everyone has to have a hobby. So I determined that I was going to find mine. It has taken me a while, but I think that today I finally decided what my hobby was going to be. 

SLEEPING!!

Isn't that a great idea. Clearly it fits my definition.  Seriously, when I am doing other things, it is what I long to do instead. I daydream about it when doing dishes, changing diapers, cleaning up throw-up at 3am, sitting at work interpreting teenagers NOT talking on the phone. 

I would get pleasure from going to bed at night (any time, really) and sleeping until I woke up naturally. There are times that when I am sleeping I enjoy it so much that I sleep longer and miss the things that I should be doing. 

Last night I thought I was going to get some good sleep. My kids have been piggy backing being sick all week. So I had the sickies all drugged up and when I got into bed there was just 2 of us. By the time I got out of bed at 5:30 this morning there was one on the floor and 3 extra's in our bed. Yes people, count them. We are talking about 6 people piled into my bed. What the heck!! Sleep, where is thy hiding place?!?

So if you drop by my house and I am lounging around on the couch, don't think to yourself, "Man, that woman in LAZY!!" Know that I am merely pursuing my hobby. 

So now when someone asks me, "What's your hobby?"

I will answer with an enthusiastic, "ZZZZZZZZZZ's!"

To be unlearned is good.

I swear, the more children I have, the less I know. That was the inspiration for the name of my blog. And it is so true. I used to know what a 6 month old was supposed to be doing. Now, I am just glad he isn't walking or throwing his food yet. So I got to thinking, what are some of those things that I thought I knew, but have UN-learned since.

I used to think that a clean house= a good mom. Ummm I have since unlearned that. If I want to have a spic-and-span house, then I have to ignore my children. I have learned that ignoring children= messier house, restless children and blue marker drawings on the wall. I am a much better mom when I let a few things go, a few of the less important things, so that I can enjoy my children.

I have unlearned 4th grade math. That or I have blocked it out of my memory. I'm not sure the difference between a line segment and a ray and no longer know how to figure out the mean, mode or medium of a set of numbers. Thank heavens for Google.

When in high school, I used to believe that you needed to shave your legs every other day. I have unlearned that rule and am lucky if my legs get mowed shaved at all twice a month. The way I see it, the longer the hair the softer it is. Cactus legs can't be that appealing? 

I apparently have unlearned that chocolate does NOT help with a diet. It seems to be the first thing I try to give up, but somehow makes its way back into my bag, nightstand, car, etc. Darn you, chocolate!!

I used to think that all markers would come off of human skin with soap. I have since UNlearned that...thanks to my four year old who has been determined to have permanent black lines running up and down his arms and legs. I am actually pretty amazed that he hasn't gotten ink poisoning.

I learned growing up, watching my dad, than men are the door lockers. They are the protectors. Well, I have had a hard time unlearning this one. I have become the door locker. If it were in my hubby's hands, we would be robbed clean, each of our children kidnapped and he and I murdered in our sleep. I can't tell you  how many times in the beginning of our marriage that I would lie in bed, wondering if things were locked, only to get up and find NOTHING locked. So I am now the door locker, the protector.  I am woman, hear me roar!!!

I have learned that a good bra DOESN'T last forever. I'm just saying! Unlearned that one today. (Too Much Information? So sorry. I have to stop doing that.)

I have unlearned that sandpaper is just for wood. It works wonders on my heels when I go for a pedicure. The first time I saw them pull the machine out, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I was regretting not shaving my legs.

I unlearned that a strong woman doesn't need help. Oh, yes, I have UN-learned that the hard way. I am learning my limits and once I have reached them, I have to get help somewhere: a friend, minute maids, a mental institution, fellow bloggers.  Mostly, God. Oh yes, we all have our limits.

The scriptures say, "To be learned is good.." But I also think that to be UN-learned can also be just as good.

What have you UN-learned??

This post is inspired my Mama's Losin' It's Writer's Workshop.