Up Down Side

Since the Orangutan and Rhino have gone back to school, I've had a lot more time to lavish on Marmoset and she is loving life!

It has it's goods and bads. Now she thinks she HAS to be with me 24/7 and has started to meltdown anytime I have to go somewhere without her. It lasts for about 45 seconds but those 45 seconds are stinkin' loud!! I mean hear it in the car at the bottom of the drive way with all doors and windows closed and the radio on loud.

On the good side of the equation is the fact that I laugh. A lot! Take today for example. For a full hour we played "Up Down Side." Very simply put she has to be upside down (so now you get it, right?) and tickled. I can prop her up against the back of the couch, stand her on her head or just hold her by her ankles. She doesn't care - as long as she is "up down side." Her laugh is infectious and as soon as you put her down to catch her breath and get the blood circulating again she is begging for more.

It's awesome to be entertained by things so simple. I guess that's one of the gifts of parenting. May all grown ups revisit the laughter and enjoyment of Up Down Side on a regular basis.

And School is Back in Session.

Duh, ZK. You've only been talking about it for two weeks. But now I know it for sure. Want to know why?

Because Lion is huddled under half the blankets in the house shaking like a leaf and I am sitting at the computer in full congested mode while our little angels sleep the wee hours away blissfully unaware that they are killing their parents in their sleep.

Ok, so maybe that last part was a little dramatic but you get my point. My little exhibits have gone out into the wide open world and brought back - The Crud. And since I have been in the Lysol haven I call my home all summer and Lion has been in his nice and tidy office all summer, we have no immunities built up to this.

Why aren't Orangutan and Rhino sick you ask? Well, Rhino is having a minor flare up with his asthma but it's nothing some well placed steroids can't fix. Yeah, Mrs. F is loving me right now. Take a kid who isn't off to the best behavior start of the school year and juice him up on roids so that he becomes a ricocheting eating machine and you are sure to win your teacher's heart.

I definitely need to take a second mortgage for her Christmas present this year.

And Orangutan. This child has the immune system of steel. I swear you could have put her in a public restaurant in Cancun over spring break and she would have come home two weeks later perfectly healthy and ready to rock. I attribute it to the three years of day care. She was exposed to everything and her little body sucked it all up, mutated the fool out of it and added it to the immunity arsenal.

But that leaves a shiny little question mark known as Marmie. She isn't showing the first sign of sniffling, restlessness, grouchies, or even a hint of a cough. How? She has had no exposure to community living like daycare. She sleeps in the same room as O. She usually forgets whether it's her cup or Rhino's. So how has she escaped The Crud? This is a wild mystery.

I guess it just means that it's time to renew our stock options in Tylenol and Kleenex, shoot up the saline drops and start the OJ IV's. It's going to be a long fall because next month ragweed season starts and it's party on for ye olde allergies.

One more thing before I go make some scalding tea for my Saharan throat. Do you know what the one constant will be in all the snotting and coughing? Mom will go on. Because we all know, once you become a mother "You Will Never be Sick Again!"

Sing with me!

Wash, wash, wash your hands.
Wash the germs away.
Rinse them neatly down the drain
And wash your cares away!

I think you're supposed to do that three times for optimal clean. Happy cold and flu season gang!

Poor Rhino.

Middle children, consider this a tribute to your childhood.

This time last year I was gearing up for Orangutan to join O.A.T. (Orangutan Academic Training for those who forgot) and I was all sentimental about my baby growing up. I got teary several times before the first day of O.A.T. even got here. I went out and rounded up school supplies well in advance, made lists of things that needed to be done, assembled multiple outfits for her to choose from for her first day and even walked her through the routine several times.

It's that time again. In two weeks not only will we be back in O.A.T. but this time we have R.A.T. (Rhino Academic Training) too! And how am I handling this? I'm counting down the days, minutes and seconds. I haven't even tried to do any supply shopping yet. The tears of sentiment have been replaced with nervous giggles of glee and his clothes have been laid out for two weeks with no options or room for deviation.

If they are lucky I might hit the brakes and slow down in the carpool lane before I scream "TUCK AND ROLL!" and shove them out the van door wise guy style. Maybe the new principal can catch their backpacks.

But let's get back to Rhino. If I was a good mother I would be just as sentimental about his first day of school as I was for O's. And you know I'll be all teary and weepy for Marmie's first day because she really IS the baby. When she goes to school I go back to work though so the tears could be multipurpose. But poor Rhino.

He's the middle guy. He can't beat anyone up or retaliate if something happens to him because the other two are girls. He isn't the biggest one in the family so he doesn't get all the cool new firsts. He isn't the little one so he still doesn't get away with murder like she does. And in all honesty he probably gets blamed for a lot of things that he had nothing to do with.

So this is me pledging to try harder in the next two weeks to keep the giggles to a minimum and muster up some sentiment for my boy. After all he is my ONLY boy and it IS his first day of school too.

Maybe I'll get him some knee and elbow pads to break his toss from the van.

Proof that We're Doing Okay!

Sometimes even moms need a little encouragement to know that they are doing okay. We don't get regular performance evaluations like other careers, you know! Unless you count the dinnertime feedback we get about green veggies.

This morning Lion was getting ready for the hunt and I was tidying up the Den. Through the sliding glass door I watched Rhino slip into the screen porch and scoop up a riding toy. When he did, he bumped a loose panel on the side of the hot tub base and it fell over. Poor little guy froze in his tracks.

He peeked out onto the porch, and then looked back at the panel on the floor. Back out on the porch and back at the panel. Then he slipped back out the door and very carefully and quietly closed the door. I, of course, was laughing hysterically at the whole thing because he had no idea I had seen him. And it goes without saying that I recounted the whole incident for Lion.

"Did you say anything to him yet?"
No. Are you going to get him or am I?
"I'll get him!"

And just as Lion was about to pull the big "Gotcha!" (because he's the one who didn't put the panel on right in the first place) Rhino came around the corner. He looked like he was about to cry but was trying to be brave.

"Ummm, Mom? I have to tell you something. I think I might have broken something."
Where buddy? (This is me laughing in my poor son's face!)
"Out there." I really thought he was going to cry!

Lion and I scooped him up and reassured him that he hadn't broken it at all.

But it just goes to show you. You have no idea if the lessons are getting all the way through those little heads and suddenly they bring it back to you.

Of course in about 10 more years he's going to start lying through his teeth . But until then I'll just revel in the fact that I did ok so far!

How About a Third Helping?

Well, I'm adding to my bloggy family. No. This is not a preggers announcement. Could someone please pick my sister up off the floor? Baxter? Thanks bud.

No, I'm just adding to my writing projects so on top of my two blogs and the other book that keeps rolling around in my head, I am going to contribute to Kadi's project Making a Mommy. If you haven't been there yet you really should visit. It's a gathering place for mothers to share the wisdom that they have found in their own parenting journey. So if you are a mom to be, a mom who has been, or a mom in middle of the process there is something there for you. Kadi should know! She has seven.

She is also welcoming other writers so get your tookus over there and throw you hat in the ring. In the meantime, feel free to pop over and visit me there from time to time too. I always welcome the company.

Tuesday Tribute: Mother's Little Helper

Jay and Deb are going to kick me out of Tribute if I keep picking such abstract and really quite bizzarre tributes. But I can't pass this up.

It's spring break week here and like all mothers I am losing my sanity bit by screechy little bit. I love my children. I do. They make me rely on "helpers" sometimes though and in an effort to be "real" I am opening the blinds into my helper life. I'll post these according to insanity levels.

Minor insanity is controlled by One Eyed Monster and his pal Don Vito Douglas Player. They kick into action when certain maintenance activities need to be completed to keep the house from caving in on itself. Quietly they entertain the masses by broadcasting favorite cartoons movies and other diversions. Admit it - they're your little helper too.

Growing insanity calls for Player Do. And while I fully understand that PD can contribute to the insanity by being crumbled into microscropic bits and ground into the used to be beige carpet or tracked onto the newly mopped floor, he still manages to occupy and distract long enough for basic hygiene maintenance.

Escalating insanity can usually be staved off by Transport and an off location recreation zone. Sometimes however the rec zone can be insanity in and of itself which is a risk a truly escalating situation requires (as well as a smack down on a four year old or two).

Out of Control insanity. This is one ugly fellow and I have found that he only speaks two languages. White Flag and Tom Collins. When the hair pulling has turned into kicking, scratching, screeching, naked toy throwing, tantrum having, pants pooping, tears flowing and the children can't handle me any more, they throw up their white flags and mix me a Collins.

What can I say? Spring Break brings out the best in all of us!

Now for those of you who were looking for a real Tribute, please head over to Jay's Place and snag a few links of heart warming treasures. There are people out there who really are sane and delightful. You should hang out with them.

Tuesday Tribute: Here's to You "Normal."

If you've been reading the Zoo for a while you know that I seldom play very many memes here. Most of that finds it's way over to The Bowl. But today there was one that I couldn't resist. Jay at Halftime Lessons and Deb at Dirty Socks and Pizza are the host of Tuesday Tribute. It's a weekly opportunity to bow to someone or something other than our ginormous egos.

This is my first time playing along but I have read quite a few of the tributes in the past. Let's see if I can do the meme justice. My Tribute to "Normal."

Welcome to My Norm!

There's a dino in the dining room
And a pick up in the tub.
There's a martian on the ceiling fan
And an ape under the rug.

A watermelon's sprouted

Underneath the bathroom sink.
And something quite unknown
Is making such a stink.

I saw a walrus hiding

In the pillows on mom's bed.

She hasn't found my toad yet

Or I'd probably be dead.

My little sister just ate dirt.

The big one flushed the phone.

I think I should try hiding

Until my Dad gets home.

I think my mom is losing it.

She's about to blow her stack.

'Cause she may have just discovered

She's standing in dog yack.

I'm pretty sure at other homes

This scene might make you squirm.

But around these parts my mom would say...

Welcome to my Norm.

A Mother's Sleep

For the briefest of moments last night I thought about blogging about how nice it was this weekend to get some nice, deep, restful sleep. Then I went to bed.

What is it about becoming a mother that totally destroys your sleep?

It starts in pregnancy when you can't get comfortable no matter how you position the pillows or which side you lay on. Even before the belly shows up you wake up to morning sickness which makes you dread going to sleep in the first place.

Then you give birth and we all know what sleeping with a newborn is like. You hear every sigh, every squeak and every whimper. That's not terribly restful sleep either.

Now in my case I had my children back to back so I have stayed in newborn sleep mode for four and a half years. All the children are sleeping through the night now so what do I do? I switch beds and rooms and roomates and disrupt the whole thing. So we're back to broken sleep.

Friday we had a really busy day of being outside and running and playing and carrying on so everyone slept like the dead. Saturday we had a similar night. So it's not a surprise that as I laid down last night I was thinking that maybe the end was in sight. Maybe I would get to go back to sleeping through the night in a deep and comfortable sleep in my own bed.

Nope. 1:30 AM Orangutan calls me into their room to tell me that Marmoset woke her up by singing. Marmie looked up at me and said, "You sing too Mama?" So I ended up laying down with her until she started to drift off. Once all was quiet again I went back to my bed and snuggled in.

3:30 AM Rhino taps me on the nose and tells me that Marmoset is trying to climb into his bed. I check all the beds and she is sound asleep in hers. When I got back to my bed to tell Rhino that he was dreaming he was sound asleep sprawled all over my pillows and wadded up in the blankets.

6:45 AM Orangutan calls me from her bed that she's ready to get up and get ready for school.

And another night is lost to being a mother.

Dear Zoo, The Flu is NOT a Spectator Sport.

I understand that Mom never REALLY gets sick. I know that it is a law of nature that no matter how sick we think we are we really must press on. It would be a lot easier to press on if you would all follow the guidelines outlined below. This is simply for future reference.

#1. When the Zookeeper is occupied with vacating the contents of her stomach is it unnecessary to stand over her and talk to her or mimic her sound effects. This is for you Marmoset. It is not helpful to ask the Zookeeper a million questions about "waddya doin" or copy the sounds I am making. It really just makes me feel a little worse.

#2. Screeches are completely unnecessary when the Zookeeper's head is on the verge of explosion. They really just make the fissures in her skull open a little more. The intensification of the skull pounding only amplifies the nausea and therefore leads to more sound effects which we have all established we are not in favor of.

And #3. While I appreciate that my life status was in question for the better part of the day yesterday, the giggling while you poked me with a stick was really uncalled for. The poking was not completely necessary but at one point I appreciated it because it let me know I was still alive. The giggling was a little too much though.

These are just a few thoughts should your Zookeeper ever fall victim again. Thank you for your attention to this matter. I look forward to being back on my feet in the next 24 to 48 hours and back in your service.

Sincerely,

The Zookeeper.

Normal is...

Mama Kat does a writer's workshop every week and I've been watching some of the writing prompts that have come up from time to time. I couldn't pass one of today's prompts up. "Normal is..." I have to go with "relative" for this one. Normal is relative. Oh yeah!


Normal at my house is waking up somewhere completely different from where you went to sleep wearing something completely different. I fell asleep in the Orangutan-Marmoset exhibit last night (Marmie isn't having such a great transition) and woke up half an hour later on the chaise in the living room. I woke up 3 hours later to Orangutan and Marmie climbing into my bed with me and have no recollection of taking off my sweatshirt, taking out my contacts or even going into my room and clearing the bed which I know was covered with laundry.


Other people go to bed and wake up in the same bed and in the same clothes they went to sleep in. Not sure how they do it but it must not involve children.


Normal in my house is six meals a day. Breakfast, mid morning snack, lunch, mid afternoon snack, small exhibit dinner and large exhibit dinner. And before you tell me that you don't count the snacks as meals you don't know the preparation that goes into peanut butter saltines. Marmie insists that she must have silverware for every meal no matter what it is so it counts as a meal.


Other homes probably don't even have to use bowls for their snacks and therefore can legitimately discount them from being meals. That's not our normal.


Normal at my house is doing AT LEAST one load of laundry a day. I'm lucky if I escape doing two or three. Inevitably as soon as I even think, "Whew! Caught up! Yay!" someone has taken it upon themselves to spill a sippy, poop, pee, barf or draw on something not intended for any of the above. Thus creating another load.


Other homes can probably knock the laundry out in a day on the weekend and not even have to glance in the direction of the hamper until the following week.


Normal at my house is answering the phone and then proceeding to have four conversations at the same time. One with the person who called; one with Rang Tang; one with Rhino; and one with Marmie. None of them will be talking about the same thing. It's a good thing that most of the people who call me share my version of normal and therefore are very understanding (if they aren't having multiple conversations themselves).


Other people answer the phone, have their conversation with the person on the other end and hang up. I bet they even stay on the same train of thought while they are on the phone.


Now I am sure that several of you share the same normal I do but I thought you should know that other people think our life is not normal. Weirdos!

The Rookies vs. The Veterans

Parenting like every competitive sport has it's rookies and veterans. What? Parenting isn't a competitive sport? You must be a rookie!


A friend from college recently had his first child and I've been following the adventure on Facebook. It's very hard not to chuckle at every status update but because I like him and he's a good friend I have not mocked him in his new fatherhood. Yet.


"Babies smell so good!"
Wait until you start solids dude! Nothing yummy about that.


"I don't want to go back to work."
I give that 2 years if you don't immediately have another; 18 months if you do.


It's fun to watch new parents. Every coo gets a picture. Every bag of diaper trash becomes a baby book entry. First trips anywhere are documented with glee and delight. And before anyone jumps on me about it, I did it. I made a fool of myself just like every other new parent and therefore I am making fun of myself too! Get over it.


Then your second child comes along and you still take fun pictures because now it's the first time X and Y did Z together. But the glow is a little fainter because now you are trying to get two children to keep their shoes on while buckling four arms into carseats and packing two sippy cups and snacks and heaven only knows what else.


You can spot the mom of 3 or more from a mile away. She looks completely at peace. She smiles at everything and she maintains a calm and easy exterior. You know why?



She has surrendered to the enemy. Waved her white flag. Tossed in her towel. Bowed out. Given up and given in. She knows that if everyone makes it through the day with nothing more major than a scrape and 4 bandaids she has won. She never worries about people coming over and seeing a mess because people don't come over. They're too scared of the duct tape. She doesn't bother with her appearance because she knows that somewhere on her personage there is poo, spit, snot, vomit or jelly and if there isn't there will be soon.


The rookie is constantly seeking the approval of others and taking too much advice from too many well meaning people who may or may not have children of their own.


The veteran has perfected smile and nod. She will smile and nod and pretend to listen to you and take it all in when in her head she is really saying, "Your turn is coming. They will break you too."


And before the debate starts about parenting being a competetive sport let me say this. Your way is the best way. It always is. Moms who nurse are superior to moms who don't and vice versa. Moms with slings are cooler than moms with strollers and vice versa. Moms who don't vaccinate are infinitely wiser than moms who vaccinate and vice versa. See! Told you it was a competitive sport. Rookies get caught up in those debates and get tweaked about them. Veterans look at their children and say, "Nobody's dead yet, so I'm ok."


I really should run. There should be a Facebook update for me to laugh at soon. Bless their little family Lord! And Congrats again Joe!

How to Tell You're a Grown Up by The Orangutan

It was feeding time at the Zoo Thursday night and the small exhibits were gathered around their corn dogs chomping away with glee. Lion and I were discussing whether we should have egg noodles or rice under our beef tips. It was a pleasant little Cleaver scene when Rhino decided he was done.

He got up from the table, pooched his belly out as big as he could get it and said, "See Mom! I'm all full."

Before I could say a word Orangutan jumped in. "Rhino, if your belly is getting that big it must mean you are getting to be a grown up because grown ups have big bellies. Well, Daddy grown ups do but Mommy grown ups don't. The have straight down flat bellies."

Lion and I just looked at each other and started to laugh but I composed myself and I asked the inevitable question, "Orangutan, why? Why are grown up Daddy bellies big and Mommy bellies flat?"

"That's easy Mom! Because Daddys eat a lot and lot of food and just sit and Mommys don't eat very much at all."

They don't? Why don't mommys eat?

"Because they are too busy working and feeding everybody and taking care of everybody and being bossed around. They don't get to eat breakfast or lunch and they only get to eat dinner if the kids are done eating and will leave them alone."

She's going to be a great mom. With a flat belly.

Must be a Daddy Tang!

Mom Tip #63: Parenting Knows no Limits.

It is a whole new day at Zoo Suburbia. A day I never even imagined much less anticipated. Ladies and Gentlemen. Loyal Readers. Friends.

Lion and I are paying for poop.

Soak that in for a minute (or maybe not). We are paying for poop. Those of you who have been with the Zoo for a while know that Rhino is being particularly hard headed about the potty training issue. He turns four in a month and there is still no real consistency to his pottying except that you are consistently confused, frustrated, exasperated and beaten down.

Last night we may have had a break through. He was sitting on my lap and "broke wind" (that is such a weird phrase!) and suddenly jumped up and said, "Mom, I gotta go poop." Well, run like the wind little man! Fly away to the potty!

And he did his thing! Woo Hoo and Party at the Zoo! I made a HUGE deal of it and gave out celebration marshmallows and was all excited. Lion called and I let Rhino deliver the news and we had another celebration on the phone and Lion said those magic words, "I'll bring a surprise home for you!" And then he forgot.

Resourceful Lion that he is he took Rhino to the Lion's Den and snagged some pennies out of the change bowl. Then the wheeling and dealing started. "Hey Dad? If I pee and poop in the potty some more can I have more monies?" Sure pal! A penny for the pees and two pennies for the poops.

I have a working score card upstairs. I swear everytime he takes a sip of juice he is going to the bathroom to squeeze out two drops. Who would have ever imagined that I would pay for poop?

How much do you suppose this little trick would cost me?

Mom Tip #62: Know your Limits.

I can handle three children at a time. There was a period last summer where I was balancing six children at a time but I call that my Loonie Period and really don't remember much of it. At least I came out with both of my ears. I think. Yeah, they're both there.

But I know I can handle three at a time. Yesterday I had a fourth because Orangutan didn't have OAT and my spare exhibit is here this week. Yesterdayday I started to consider my stance on drinking before noon. But I know I can handle three.

Lion asks for extra exhibits from time to time. I tell him no - three is my limit. He begs. He pleads. He talks sweet and he tells me how cute I was when I was preggers and how sweet it is to fall asleep with a baby on your chest. That's when I schedule a day like today.

Yesterday was a day when I intentionally called him half way through the third hour of screaming and running laps around the kitchen, dining room, living room circuit. I made sure I called him when the very large, very loud stray dog was throwing itself at the front door. I made sure I talked to him in the middle of the playroom meltdown. Side note: Gravity is what takes the toys off the shelf and children cannot battle gravity. But that's for another day.

And still he came home and wondered why there was a pile of popcorn still laying in the middle of the foyer hall where the two two year olds had made a "snowstorm" for the two big ones while I was trying to make their dinner, feed the dog, answer the phone, fold laundry, wipe noses, clean the bathrooms, save dinner from burning, bake shortcakes, prep our dinner, talk to Spare's father, trip over the dog, run the vacuum, and snatch myself bald. On one cup of coffee.

Did I mention that a very scary dog kept barking and throwing itself at the front door?

I'm just saying that I know I can handle three. There will not be a #4. I know my limits and yesterday I pushed them.

"Uh Oh" Has a Whole New Meaning.

For the first time since my 2 Coronas at last week's Super Bowl I made myself a little cocktail last night. I think I nursed the thing for a total of 5 hours so that just shows you what a drinker I am! L.M. Lion though likes to be funny so he strolled into the kitchen and said "Uh, Oh! Mommy's drinking again!"

Guess what Marmoset says now every time someone says "uh oh."

Mommy's Dinkin!

It's going to be an interesting morning at church THIS Sunday!

Mom Tip #57

Take a lesson from yourself.

Oh yeah! Let's get ugly about this Mom Tip thing shall we? For review here are a few things that I have said to my children in the last 48 hours.

*Please come into the same room as me if you want to talk.

How many times have I tried to talk to them or to my husband and I'm in a completely different part of the house doing about 17 noise creating tasks? Of course they aren't going to hear me or even try to listen for that matter.

*A fit will get you absolutely nowhere.
*You can scream all you want but all that does is turn my ears off.

I'm blushing and cowering in shame right now as I approach the second statement on our list. I throw fits all the time. To them. To LM Lion. I rant and I yell and I expect it to serve some purpose. That of course links up nicely with number three. I'm pretty sure as soon as I start to raise my voice my children's ears disengage. Just like mine do when LM Lion and I get heated.

*Your brother is three feet away - why are you yelling?

I do this all the time! Now in my defense it's usually beacause I don't realize that someone has snuck up behind me or because my ears are stopped up from yet another sinus infection. But just the same. I had a serious reality check the other day when the Rhino looked at me and said, "Geez Mom! I'm right here! And I CAN hear you!" Can't imagine where he heard that before.

*The longer you sit there the longer it is going to take to get anything done.

Now, the sitting part isn't my problem. It's the walking in circles that gets me. I can walk from one room to the next for hours and never get a blessed thing done. How many times this very morning have I walked into the bathroom to get a tissue? And I still haven't taken the 3 minutes it takes to clean the toilet and sink.

*You don't work with the TV on so I'm turning it off.

I can sit and stare at this mammoth basket of laundry that needs to be folded but sitting here staring at it isn't going to fold it. And the TV. I can work with the TV on but this blasted computer and I have to come to an agreement. Stop calling my name! Stop suckering me in with, "but someone famous may have just commented on your brilliant take on housekeeping!"

*A spoonful of vegetables hasn't killed you in the last 5 years. I doubt it will start now.

And a spoonful of veggies has never killed anyone. And neither has a glass of water. Or a nice fresh apple. Or a break from whatever that business is that keeps me from eating on a regular basis.

Kinda hurts, yes?

I'm just saying. Maybe I should pretend I'm my own mother for a day. But then what would she do?

Getting a Head Start on Ruining my Children's Education!

I started thinking about it while we were at Home Depot today. Everytime I want my children to remember something I make a rhyme or rythm out of it. Here are just a few things my poor children were subjected to today.

*Nothing in your nose that isn't wearing clothes.

*Saddle up, buckle up, rah, rah, rah!

*Skirt off, sleeves on, socks plus shoes.

*Put it in the potty or Mom will think you're naughty!

*Seat in the seat or you're not gonna eat!

*Chin to the sky - no bubbles in your eyes.

Do you see what I am doing to my children? If educators can make it rythm and rhyme, my children are never going to remember it! I can see right now that the rest of my parenting life is going to be spent pouring over their schoolbooks rhyming their spelling words, state capitals, and history notes.

I wonder if I can get advance copies of the kindergarten curriculum. I have a lot of work to do before August!

Mom Tip #55

Should a mom attempt to take a day (or even a few hours off), she should be prepared for the consequences of her diminished vigilance.

Now it is the Christmas season and between decorating, cleaning, cooking, laundry, and making gifts things are a little hairy here at Zoo Suburbia. I've been up at 6 and going to bed at 2 and lather, rinse, repeating for three weeks straight. I'm a little tired and more than a little punchy. So I thought I would cut myself a little slack and take a break today. I have been at this for five years - you would think that I would know by now.

We put the tree up last night and the Lion and I put the lights on and then he supervised while I put the basic decorations on. It was beautiful with the dried grapefruit and oranges, the homemade cinnamon clay and baking soda clay ornaments, the white twinkling lights and the candy canes. I just sat in the glow for a while last night and looked at it.

(Last year, just learning to crawl and explore)

This morning after everyone was distributed to their proper places I took a time out with my coffee and the blogosphere and just relaxed. I was happily reading along and commenting on friends posts when suddenly there was an EXTREMELY sticky hand on my arm. I really didn't want to look. I tried for the longest to ignore what I knew was inevitable. Then the thought occurred to me that the longer that sticky hand stayed there without moving the more it was going to hurt when it came off taking even the smallest armhairs with it.

I peeked out of the corner of my eye and my worst fears were confirmed. There beside me in all of her curly headed glory was my beloved little Marmoset, bright pink from her nose to her chin and grinning from ear to ear. In her other hand a remnant with a few faint red and white stripes left on it.

(This year, learning how to be sneakiy while maintaining the cute factor!)

What's a mom to do? I heaved a little sigh and scooped her up. But the fun wasn't over. There curled up in a lttle ball under the coffee table was a certain S.M. Rhino trying to shove the stepstool around the corner out of sight. I shooed him out from under and hustled them both to the bathroom to clean up. There were no canes on the bottom three feet of a nine foot tree. None. When interviewed about how many he had consumed Rhino assured me that he and Marmoset had only had two a piece. So what happened to the rest of the canes?

He had tucked them away in a secret stash under the coffee table. You have to give him some credit. He was smart. He was fast. And he was honest.

But the crash from that sugar high took me out! Last time before Christmas I take a day off!!

Wordless Wednesday

And he wonders what I do all day.

Welcome to my world Large Male Lion!

Mom Tip #48

Boys are completely different from girls.

Yeah I know. That is a “Well, Duh!!” moment but I have to explain myself because there are people out there who have not had the pleasure of having both genders in their family. Me, for example. I only have a sister. So I was not prepared for anything that came with raising a boy or living with a boy’s – shall we call them, quirks?

Boys could really care less about the potty. I think we have covered this in great length but it bears repeating. Munch has to “go potty” every time someone sets foot in the direction of the bathroom. Granted, she is not really doing anything when she is in there, but it counts, right? Not The Boy! He could care less. Tuck, go potty. “But I don’t wanna! (screaming, wailing gnashing of teeth)” And then he pees his pants while he is in mid-fit. What is that?

Boys have no concept of fashion and are not in any rush to get one. As long as they have pants and a shirt, all is right in the world. Shoes are optional. Colors are inconsequential. Socks only exist if you already sacrificed a few toes to the weather. He came out of his room is red shorts with blue pinstripes down the side and a lime green shirt with yellow and white surfboards which was of course backwards. His sandals were on the wrong feet and when I asked him to fix his clothes or at least change his shorts into something that might match a little I got, “But I like it like this.” There is no point in arguing.

Boys speak their own language. Tuck had a friend here the other day and they were out on the porch playing while I cleaned the kitchen. They were speaking to one another like they understood but I am at a loss for what they were saying. There were a lot of sound effects (fire engines, horns honking, back up alarms) and a language that I would be hard pressed to find a dictionary for. But they understood each other and played so nicely that I forgot where they were for a few minutes.

I will probably never win the potty fight. That will be something he just makes his mind up about one day. The fashion might have a fighting chance when girls enter the picture. But I do have a shot at the language barrier. I think they were teaching Munch a little the other day. I may actually have a translator in the works. I’ll let you know when she is preparing her dictionary.