Hissy Fit

Yeah, we had one of those hissy-fit-in-public moments last night that made me wonder if maybe, I should have just raised cats. Ellie was being a B-R-A-T last night, probably because she was napless, so we decided to go out and get the kids some much-needed new shoes. When we first went in the store, we let them both kinda run around - there were only a couple of people in the store, and the kids weren't causing any trouble. But then Ellie, well, started causing trouble, so I went to pick her up. Not such a good idea. Because she started throwing the mother of all 20-month-old tantrums, screaming and crying and kicking and scratching and hitting. A couple of times I told her that if I let her down, she'd have to stay with me (yeah, you know the punchline - she didn't stay with me), so finally, I just had to hold onto her, which would be roughly comparable to a greased pig contest. At one point I was so frustrated I (in my gritted-teeth-threatening Mom-whisper-voice) said, "Ellie, you stop being such a brat now!" only to look up and see a woman staring at me with her best I'm-one-step-away-from-calling-child-services look. I pulled myself together, and we eventually got out of there with new shoes, but unfortunately had to trade them in for our dignity and self-respect. Once we got home, kids were deposited in bed, and 4 peanut-butter-chocolate-chip cookies were consumed, but still, felt kinda cheap and dirty. So I had to pull out the cute kid photos to remind myself why they're better than raising cats.

We went to a block party the other day - BBQ and pumpkin carving - lots o' fun - Jack got to help Jared carve a pumpkin - he got a big kick out of the fact that it was called a Jack-o-Lantern - he asked us if we could name the other pumpkins the Ellie-o-Lantern and the Otis-o-Lantern

Ellie, when she's NOT throwing a tantrum - lesson learned - make sure she gets a nap...or else!

Lightbulb

Ever have that moment when you see the lightbulb light up over your kid's head and just know, hey, the kid GETS IT!! That's an awesome feeling - and Jared and I both experienced it with Jack this weekend, although clearly from the varying perspectives of Mom vs. Dad.

Mom's Lightbulb Moment:
Location and Time: Church, during Sacrament Meeting
Jack: "Mom, I need to go to the potty"
(Cue the choir of angels singing Hallelujah)
HE GETS IT!!! HE REALLY GETS IT!!!

Dad's Lightbulb Moment:
Location and Time: Kitchen, lunchtime, Ellie trying to drag one of the chairs across the floor
Jack: "Ellie, don't do that, you'll scratch the nice new floors! We're not going to get a new house, so we can't break this one!"
(Jared practically drops to the floor in humble supplication to thank his Maker for this wondrous miracle)

Doesn't Share Well With Others

OK, I have a confession. I don't usually consider myself a selfish person - what's mine is yours, I'm not really emotionally tied to "stuff"......but here's the thing: I HATE sharing my restaurant food with my hubby and kids. HATE. At home, heck, eat off my plate, I don't care. Want some cash? Here yea go. But at a restaurant - where we've gone to the trouble to go out to eat and to each choose what we personally want to eat - well, have you ever tried to touch your dog's food while he's eating and almost get your hand bit off? Yeah, that's me in a restaurant. I don't know why - it's not as if I'm going to starve if someone eats half my chicken, and heaven knows my thighs could do without those extra calories. But to me, it's the principle of the matter.

Hubby and I have had "discussions" about this quite a few times over the years. We'd walk into McDonald's, I'd order my meal, and then he'd just get a burger. And I'd say, hey, don't you want fries with that? Nah, I'm not hungry. You SURE you don't want fries with that? Nahhh. Until we sit down, he polishes off his burger, and you guessed it, starts to polish off my fries. Or even better, he'll proffer the "Shared French Fry Approach" as a cost-saving measure. Sure, he'll spend $2500 on a flat-screen TV and $200 on a new pair of running shoes (even though there are 5 other pairs in his closet), but darned if he's going to spend $1 on a separate bag of french fries. But me - I don't eat out much, and this is MY treat. So hey, maybe I'm selfish, maybe I'm a pig, but you know what, HANDS OFF MY FRENCH FRIES!!


Fortunately, Ellie doesn't take after her mom - she's always happy to share her sticky, gummy food with you!


OK, not related to this blog entry, but he's such a sweet boy!


My yummy lil' pumpkins!

Halloween Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve....

OK, so technically it's not Halloween yet. But our church held its Halloween party tonight, and so we brought on the Halloween Mojo a bit early. Jack aka "Don't Call Me Jack, I'm Peter Pan" had a great time, and, method actor that he is, stayed in character the whole night. He even refused to call Jared and I Dad and Mom, insisting on calling us Captain Hook and Tiger Lily the whole night. So either he's the Method Actor of All Time, or maybe he had a tiny psychotic break, but either way, it was awesome. Ellie didn't much care for her outfit (itchy maybe? not sure), so we had to keep feeding her candy to keep her inner savage beast happy. All in all, much Halloween festiveness. And between this, Jack's preschool Halloween party, our block's Halloween party, and of course the real Halloween, we should be quite Halloweened-out by November 1st.


Jack, of course, wanted to sword-fight with everyone he saw. So we had to remind him that Peter Pan only fought with pirates...of course, that was before we realized that there would be approximately 58 pirates at the party.


I promise you, Ellie is normally a very happy child - until you point a camera on her. Then all of a sudden she either lunges for the camera ("mine!") or puts on this mopey-starving-model-Kate-Moss-wannabee look. I should have held up some M&Ms in front of her - that always puts a smile on Mom's face.


Captain Hook and Peter Pan, in between sword fights

Signs

6 Signs You've Stumbled Into Our House:

(1) The Writing's On the Wall
Literally. It's throughout the house, like visual breadcrumbs to show you all the places that Ellie has been.


(2) No One Can Be Trusted
With toilet paper, that is. Both Jack and Ellie, if left in the bathroom with a full roll of toilet paper, will take it upon themselves to roll it out on the floor. So it's kept up high out of their reach.


(3) It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's....
Superman. Or Batman. Or Spiderman. Or Fireman Sam. Or Popeye. Or Sheriff Woody. Or Captain Jack Sparrow. Or Monkey Jack. Or Shere-Khan the Tiger. Jack is always pretending to be SOMEBODY, and he must always have the appropriate outfit.


(4) On the Road Again
There is always an open suitcase in our room. It's either waiting to be packed or unpacked, depending on whether Jared is coming or going.


(5) Chocolate is Good
In many, many ways. One sure sign that you're in our house is homemade chocolate chip cookies. They serve 3 purposes: the making and eating of cookie dough occupies the kids for a good half-hour, the eating of cookie dough makes Mom very happy, and the eating of cookies keeps Dad from wasting away to nothing. (Have I mentioned how unfair it is that he has to work to keep his weight UP?)


(6) Mother's Little Helper
Don't judge me.

Pumpkins, Pumpkins, Everywhere

By the way, Pumpkin Patches are WAY COOL! We went with Jack's preschool class to Pumpkinville today and had a blast. Jack really liked the hay slides and the hayride, and Ellie liked the moon bounces and the monkeys (yes, they had monkeys - ANY activity is better with monkeys). Dad was able to come along, as were Crystal and Emma Boo. All in all, it was a perfect start to the Fall Season.

Retraction

I apologize to anyone I offended with my last blog entry. Please please please remember that ALL of my blog entries are meant to be humorous and silly and self-deprecating and goofy. None are meant to be serious. Obviously, sometimes I miss the mark and my entries are NOT funny - but the intention is always humor. Period. I'll try to be more careful in the future about where I aim that humor and the topics I choose.

MFR

Memorandum for the Record

To: For the Record
From: Lydia
Re: Quiet Kids are Weird

It has come to my attention that a certain individual (who shall remain nameless but whose name rhymes with Schmother-Inlaw), when hearing about the notorious adventures of our spirited little tykes, has been known to remark on several occasions "oh, that's interesting, because all my other grandkids are so quiet and well-behaved." In response to that statement, I'd like to respond with the following statement:

"Quiet kids are weird and will end up chopping you up into pieces and putting you in their freezer."

To support my thesis, let me provide the following points of evidence:
(1) Ted Bundy was known to be quiet and friendly. You know, until he killed all those women.
(2) Jeffrey Dahmer was known to be a quiet and shy child. Well, that is, until he killed all those young men and ate them.
(3) John Wayne Gacy was described by his neighbors as someone who was quiet and shy and kept to himself. Of course, until he dressed up like a clown and killed all those people.

Therefore, it is my assertion that indeed, it is MY kids who are the normal ones.


****
(For the record, my shmother-inlaw is a very nice person and all of her grandkids are very sweet.)
****

%*#%#&*#&A% Tag

#%*#&%& Mo. Tagged me. OK, I don't know who comes up with these things. But you're supposed to post the 4th photo from the 4th folder in your pictures folder. Is that right? I'm not sure if I got that one right, but here goes.



Hmmm, well, that's kinda boring. No quirky old memories or scandal there. Hmmm. This is just a photo I've already posted. OK, whoever is in charge of the Department of Tag Development and Distribution is apparently sleeping on the job. Sorry, I'm not forwarding this tag on, until they come up with a better tag. And I'm going to blame Mo for this one. It's Blame the Messenger Day. She can then blame Harmony, who can blame whoever sent it to her, and so on, and hopefully we can eventually reverse tag back to He Who Shall Not Be Named (the Chair of the Department of Tag Development and Distribution) and let him know that this tag blows.

No More Grinchin' (aka Joy in the Journey)

OK, I've been a grinch lately. It's a tendency of mine, to get so caught up in the "doing" that I forget to stop and enjoy the little joys in life. But then I got called on it - well, not directly, but "Mo" (darn her joyful self) posted a blog entry about finding the joy in life (referencing a talk given by President Monson), and well, heck, don't I feel bad now. Jared's been on an extra-long trip, which has really brought out the grinch in me, and I really haven't been enjoying the little joyful things because I've been so focused on "getting things done." But then I read the entry from Mo (again, darn her joyful and perky self), and also I had a particularly fun day with the kiddies yesterday, and realized I need to be doing more of that.

Soooooooo, whenever I see this (more of Ellie's wall art on bedroom wall):



I can remember this (just how sweet she really is - like how when she blows kisses, she blows them from her ear - not sure why):


...And whenever I see this (Jack making Ellie cry AGAIN - can't remember if this time it was because he hit her, stole her toy, or hit her while stealing her toy):


...I can remember this (what a fun character our Jack is - by the way, here he's Spiderman, and was showing one of his kick-a superhero moves; later that day, he saw how the sun was casting shadows on the hardwood floor, declared that he too wanted to make shadows like the sun, and ran and laid down on the floor and began making snow angels across the hardwood floors):


So if you catch me Grinchin', remind me to find the joy in the journey (I promise I won't hit you when you do)

Whac-a-Mole

That's pretty much my life. Whac-a-mole. You know, the arcade game where you have a big rubber mallet and moles pop up from their holes at random and you have to whack 'em back into their holes.

It's bathtime when Whac-a-mole begins.

Pop - up pops Jack-a-mole, who has decided that he's Spiderman, and Spiderman doesn't need a bath, and proceeds to jump out of the tub and climb (naked and wet) all over the furniture like Spiderman. Mom turns to whack-a-Jack-a-mole back into the tub.

Pop - up pops Ellie-mole, who has decided that while Mom's back is turned, she will throw all of her bath toys onto the floor and splash as much water onto the floor as she can. Mom, with Naked-Jack-a-mole slung over her shoulder, turns back to whack-an-Ellie-mole by grabbing her out of the tub before she can do anymore damage.

Pop - up pops Jack-a-mole, who decides that potty training is overrated and that he should simply pee on the floor. Mom turns to whack-a-Jack-a-mole over to the toilet and to start cleaning up the mess.

Pop - up pops Ellie-mole, who decides this is the opportune time to also run naked through the house and climb Spidey-like all over the furniture. Mom, who has a severe phobia related to naked butts all over her furniture, turns to whack-an-Ellie-mole back to the bathroom to get some clothes on.

Pop - up pops Jack-a-mole, who is at least partially dressed at this point, and is chasing the dog around the house. Otis-a-mole's barking adds to the fun.

Pop - up pops Ellie-mole, who has managed to find a pen and begins to write on the wall. Mom knocks herself on the head with a rubber mallet in order to take a much-needed rest. Everything's a bit blurry after that....

----

P.S. - please note that I am not really whacking my children with a rubber mallet. Apparently, they don't sell rubber mallets at my local store. I checked.

P.P.S. - just kidding, people. Just an analogy. No children or moles were hurt during the writing of this blog. Although Mom does have a few more gray hairs after this morning's bathtime.