I know it has been quiet in the Wee Blogosphere for awhile now. But I have good reason for my silence- a heinous, perfidious, dark and sneaky enemy has been besieging our Wee kingdom for several weeks and seems ill likely to give up its evil assault.
The name of this dastardly foe .... the EAR INFECTION MONSTER!
As is the case with most horrendous plagues, the ear infection monster is attracted to first born sons and the younger the better. Wee 4 has had a double ear infection for going on 6 weeks. Though he has been whisked against his will to all manner of people with very large certificates of "I know something about what is wrong with you" a cure has yet to be found.
Much has been made of the "antibiotics" which are to fight back and slay the Ear Infection Monster, but all they have done so far is to create an endless number of separate problems which can be encapsulated under the title "blow outs." In fact the use of 3 separate antibiotics have created an internal war within Wee 4's body which require the introduction of the probiotics. I hate to be political, but it is quite clear that the "pro's" in this battle are sissies as the "anti's" continue to wreak havoc. Their anarchistic displays of intestinal displeasure have tripled the needed contents of my diaper bag and reduced the number of others willing to hold Baby Wee due to the potential hazards of "blow back."
Those of you who are stalwart Whimsis of the Wee followers know that Wee 4 has always been a finicky baby. Not one who believes in taking a nap or (anything else for the team for that matter) he has chosen to be particularly offended by his selection as the Ear Infection Monster's target. His drool is even more plentiful then normal. In fact the city council of Niagara Falls is threatening to sue Reid as his oral deluge is becoming a popular destination for hordes of love blind honeymooners. His already sensitive and eczema challenge skin has become lacerated underneath his inflamed ears as his constant tugging irritates his dermis. All of these additonal symptons have taken him from "so cute, but a little fussy" to "cute or not I am sending you to the nearest relative in a well ventilated package" status.
Let it be known however, that here and now I proclaim to eradicate this beast and have set a countdown to ensure its eviction. All Ear Infection Monsters who choose not to succumb to this latest round of feebly effective magical potions (read here ammoxicillin) will be surgically removed and replaced with one uber powerful "tube" at the end of the month (or roundabouts depending on when the not-so-accommodating insurance companies make the time to make this happen) These tubes will ensure that the monster is unable to return and that Wee 4 can return to his usual only slightly perturbed demeanor.
In the meantime we beg the patience and compassion of our blog readers. It is most difficult to slay invisible biological foes, bounce a fussy baby and type in the Wee hours of the morning.
A Wee bit on the defensive,
CarrieAnne
Showing posts with label Wee 4. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wee 4. Show all posts
Friday, March 18, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Perspectives on Laundry
Like most domestic goddesses who rule a Wee fiefdom, washing, folding, and ironing all the laundry in the house is a quest that I earnestly seek to accomplish. But much like rearing Wee's this is a task which is never truly "done." Because just as soon as the last sock is matched or the last collar pressed it is inevitable that all of the Wees have just finished a mud wrestling match or ice cream cone dribbling contest. As laundry can be just as much a battleground as the ancient jousting tourneys of yore, I thought reflecting on laundry from both the Wee and the "Me" perspectives would be thought provoking.
THE WEES
Wearing Clothes
How can one woman come up with so many "rules" about clothing. We aren't supposed to chew on our sleeves, wipe our noses on the cuffs, step on the hem, wear the knees out on the playground, spill food on our shirts, or wear things which don't match. I think it is especially irritating about the matching - that's entirely subjective. Who says a gray Hello Kitty shirt doesn't match my yellow pants with the turtles on them. They are all animals after all.
Why can't I pick at the picks in my tights? If anything was ever asking to be picked certainly something named picked would be it right? Oh, crud I made a hole in my tights - better pull my skirt down even further.
And what's the deal with not wearing socks with holes in them. These are my favorite socks and most of the sock doesn't have holes in it - just where the big toe is. Since mom won't let me wear my favorite shoes with the holes in them, no one is going to see the holes in my socks anyway. I think I will just quickly put them on and run out the door. When she asks me if these are the socks with the holes in them I will mutter under my breath something that sounds like "muffinrollercoaster" or "ninjatire" - that kinda thing always throws her for a loop.
Why do my clothes have to fall into categories "church," "school," and "play." It is just ridiculous that I can't where what I want when I want. I think these categories are prejudicial. Since when did a wardrobe have to suffer profiling or apartheid? I am staging a protest! I will walk the house naked as a sign of my displeasure - even better, I will stage this expression of my civil liberties when my mom is stressed out because company is on its way.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Hey, this is just like basketball practice in gym class. Who is up for a few free throws? And just like school there is a ball boy - or should I say "sock mama." Mom will grab all the ones that don't make it in. Also I really don't feel like putting these smelly dirty yard work clothes in the hamper so I will dump them in my closet and forget about them for a few weeks. Mom loves to be challenged and to accomplish difficult feats so removing mold will really be inspiring and fun for her.
When she said "sort" the clothes, what I heard was "raise the clothes over my head and let chance and gravity do the work." Hasn't she seen all the commercials that come on the Disney channel - with the new laundry detergents clothing colors never bleed - mom is positively ancient with her traditions and outdated theories on housework.
Putting Away Clothes
Why would I put my clothes in their assigned drawer or hang them up in my closet? I can't see them all at the same time if I do that. Instead I will artistically splay them in a random Andy Warholesque fashion. If mom nags me about this I am just going to throw them back in the dirty laundry basket. That way she'll never even know they didn't get put away.
MY PERSPECTIVE
Wearing Clothes
How is it possible for such small beings to ruin their clothes so quickly? This sleeve looks like a squirrel went on a gnawing rampage and these jeans - was she trying out for an Olympic curling team in gym class today. Why do I even tell them to be careful - they never listen.
Oh, my goodness that outfit is a doosey. What are you trying to channel - the flying nun meets the incredible hulk? No you can't wear that to school because the skirt is two sizes too short and the top does not even come close to matching. No, just because both prints are from animals in the same genus, it does not mean that they match.
What are you doing - put your clothes on right now! Our dinner guests will be here any minute - so help me if you don't get dressed in appropriate clothing by the time I count to 10 a straight jacket with leggings will be your uniform for the next month.
Stop picking at your tights, they are going to unravel. Money doesn't grow on trees and tights don't either. Why is she pulling her skirt down past her knees? The waist band is barely over her bottom - is that at hole behind her knee - forget it, I am not looking any closer.
No sweetie, you can not wear that to the park because that is a church outfit. Your clothes rotate through a cycle. Your best clothes for church, these are demoted to school clothes when they become damaged and then they become play clothes when your art teacher forgets that paint and permanent marker don't always wash out. Yes, I do know when you purposefully ruin your clothes to demote them quicker and yes, I get royally steamed when their is nothing to pass down to your sisters.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Wait a minute, you can get to level 1.65 million on your Nintendo DS, climb a rock climbing wall at school and read at the 4th grade level in the 2nd grade, but you can't get a pair of socks in your hamper? Who do you think is going to pick this tornado of dirty laundry up the "lint bunny" or maybe you believe in the "load sorting fairy."
The baskets are for light, dark and white - not "maybe," "I don't know" and "she'll figure it out."
I don't remember having a shirt this color pink. Wait a minute, this was my favorite white shirt. They did not throw in their cheap, screen printed bright red school spirit shirts in with my nice clothes. 500,000 loads of laundry later, you think they would believe me over some ridiculous claim by a stranger wanting to make a quick buck on TV. It is experience - unappreciated experience! I hope Oxy Clean gets this out.
Putting Away Clothes
Are there clean - still folded clothes in this hamper? I know that can't be the case - I just know it because my children love me and don't want me to self-commit to a mental institution. Perhaps them piling those clothes up on the floor wasn't such a bad idea - maybe I'll just close the door to their room next time and pretend the laundry is actually "done."
A wee bit over-loaded,
CarrieAnne
THE WEES
Wearing Clothes
How can one woman come up with so many "rules" about clothing. We aren't supposed to chew on our sleeves, wipe our noses on the cuffs, step on the hem, wear the knees out on the playground, spill food on our shirts, or wear things which don't match. I think it is especially irritating about the matching - that's entirely subjective. Who says a gray Hello Kitty shirt doesn't match my yellow pants with the turtles on them. They are all animals after all.
Why can't I pick at the picks in my tights? If anything was ever asking to be picked certainly something named picked would be it right? Oh, crud I made a hole in my tights - better pull my skirt down even further.
And what's the deal with not wearing socks with holes in them. These are my favorite socks and most of the sock doesn't have holes in it - just where the big toe is. Since mom won't let me wear my favorite shoes with the holes in them, no one is going to see the holes in my socks anyway. I think I will just quickly put them on and run out the door. When she asks me if these are the socks with the holes in them I will mutter under my breath something that sounds like "muffinrollercoaster" or "ninjatire" - that kinda thing always throws her for a loop.
Why do my clothes have to fall into categories "church," "school," and "play." It is just ridiculous that I can't where what I want when I want. I think these categories are prejudicial. Since when did a wardrobe have to suffer profiling or apartheid? I am staging a protest! I will walk the house naked as a sign of my displeasure - even better, I will stage this expression of my civil liberties when my mom is stressed out because company is on its way.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Hey, this is just like basketball practice in gym class. Who is up for a few free throws? And just like school there is a ball boy - or should I say "sock mama." Mom will grab all the ones that don't make it in. Also I really don't feel like putting these smelly dirty yard work clothes in the hamper so I will dump them in my closet and forget about them for a few weeks. Mom loves to be challenged and to accomplish difficult feats so removing mold will really be inspiring and fun for her.
When she said "sort" the clothes, what I heard was "raise the clothes over my head and let chance and gravity do the work." Hasn't she seen all the commercials that come on the Disney channel - with the new laundry detergents clothing colors never bleed - mom is positively ancient with her traditions and outdated theories on housework.
Putting Away Clothes
Why would I put my clothes in their assigned drawer or hang them up in my closet? I can't see them all at the same time if I do that. Instead I will artistically splay them in a random Andy Warholesque fashion. If mom nags me about this I am just going to throw them back in the dirty laundry basket. That way she'll never even know they didn't get put away.
MY PERSPECTIVE
Wearing Clothes
How is it possible for such small beings to ruin their clothes so quickly? This sleeve looks like a squirrel went on a gnawing rampage and these jeans - was she trying out for an Olympic curling team in gym class today. Why do I even tell them to be careful - they never listen.
Oh, my goodness that outfit is a doosey. What are you trying to channel - the flying nun meets the incredible hulk? No you can't wear that to school because the skirt is two sizes too short and the top does not even come close to matching. No, just because both prints are from animals in the same genus, it does not mean that they match.
What are you doing - put your clothes on right now! Our dinner guests will be here any minute - so help me if you don't get dressed in appropriate clothing by the time I count to 10 a straight jacket with leggings will be your uniform for the next month.
Stop picking at your tights, they are going to unravel. Money doesn't grow on trees and tights don't either. Why is she pulling her skirt down past her knees? The waist band is barely over her bottom - is that at hole behind her knee - forget it, I am not looking any closer.
No sweetie, you can not wear that to the park because that is a church outfit. Your clothes rotate through a cycle. Your best clothes for church, these are demoted to school clothes when they become damaged and then they become play clothes when your art teacher forgets that paint and permanent marker don't always wash out. Yes, I do know when you purposefully ruin your clothes to demote them quicker and yes, I get royally steamed when their is nothing to pass down to your sisters.
Putting Clothes in the Hamper
Wait a minute, you can get to level 1.65 million on your Nintendo DS, climb a rock climbing wall at school and read at the 4th grade level in the 2nd grade, but you can't get a pair of socks in your hamper? Who do you think is going to pick this tornado of dirty laundry up the "lint bunny" or maybe you believe in the "load sorting fairy."
The baskets are for light, dark and white - not "maybe," "I don't know" and "she'll figure it out."
I don't remember having a shirt this color pink. Wait a minute, this was my favorite white shirt. They did not throw in their cheap, screen printed bright red school spirit shirts in with my nice clothes. 500,000 loads of laundry later, you think they would believe me over some ridiculous claim by a stranger wanting to make a quick buck on TV. It is experience - unappreciated experience! I hope Oxy Clean gets this out.
Putting Away Clothes
Are there clean - still folded clothes in this hamper? I know that can't be the case - I just know it because my children love me and don't want me to self-commit to a mental institution. Perhaps them piling those clothes up on the floor wasn't such a bad idea - maybe I'll just close the door to their room next time and pretend the laundry is actually "done."
A wee bit over-loaded,
CarrieAnne
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The Wees on Coupons
Now if you read the title of this blog post and rolled your eyes at the word "coupons," you clearly aren't trying to raise four Wees in the midst of a recession. Wees eat. In fact they eat a lot and therefore we coupon. Now we aren't extreme couponers - no need to send a TLC camera crew to our house or for us to build an annex out of cereal boxes for our supply of dental floss. But we do coupon and the Wees have mixed emotions about it.
Wee 1
Victoria thinks coupons are pretty cool for two main reasons. Cutting them out of the newspaper is the only time she gets to use really big adult scissors and because they are forbidden most of the time, she feels extra powerful with them in her hands. The kid also loves brand name snacks. Shopping with Wee 1 is like having a living infomercial chatting it up besides you. Often, I hand her the coupon and let her pick the flavor she prefers for an item. What ensues is a battle of the brands via a commercial reciting monologue. For example a few weeks ago it was time for us to buy cereal and Victoria had to choose from Rice Krispies or Frosted Flakes. Her verbalized introspection went something like this:
"Frosted flakes are "GRRRREEEAT" so clearly that would be a good choice, but Rice Krispies go "Snap, Crackle and Pop" and that is entertaining. I don't think the Frosted Flakes have every actually said anything so I am going to go with Rice Krispies -the taste and the added sound track make them better."
Wee 2
Bella is clearly flummoxed by coupons. First of all the name continually throws her for a loop and she calls them "poopons". She says this in a manner in which the "poop" part is heavily accented. She then pauses and says "ons." We don't know why she does this and what makes it even more interesting is that she clearly does not think she is being funny and in no way associates her pronunciation with a bodily function of any kind. She reacts with strong feelings of anger when teased by her pronunciation and has resisted all efforts at correcting it.
Wee 2 knows these "poopons" are imbued with magical powers, that allow us to "save" money for fun things like going to Disney World and that make cash register shelf candy free. What she doesn't get is how they do wonderful magic tricks and why everyone else doesn't use them. On more than one occasion she has asked the person checking out in front of us "You aren't going to use a "poopon" for that? Are you rich or do you just not like candy?"
Because most people - especially those without wees - don't know what a "poopon" is, we have gotten a mixture of responses from her questioning. These ranged from sheer horror of the word "poop" being mentioned and their being in close proximity to a child who may have had something to do with that recently and a kind old man who once gave her a quarter for being so concerned about his financial well being.
Wee 3
Maddie and the coupons have a very adversarial relationship. What she understands about coupons is that they take up a lot of my Tuesday morning while the girls are at school. Time she very possessively feels she should be taking up. She also feels that they must somehow be her mortal foe as when she rips, scatters, or otherwise molests them I become quite irate and send her to time out.
What Wee 3 loves about coupons are the machines which spit them out in the grocery store. She is like a heat seeking missile when she sees that little red flashing light. And whether it is something we will never use like adult diapers or something we use way to much of like baby diapers she has a compulsive need to pull one coupon from each machine. What is nice is that she only wants one, as "sharing" with strangers is far easier for her than sharing with her siblings.
Wee 4
Reid's stance on coupons is fairly ambivalent. For a 3 month old he is shockingly impervious to all forms of marketing. He cares very little about what brand of diaper he is wearing or whether or not he is getting a free candy bar at the end of the shopping trip. Though I think he finds the blinking light on instore displays entertaining, more research needs to be done on this. His primary area of interest is whether or not cutting or using coupons interferes with his eating schedule. So long as I can clip and he can sip he remains supportive of the entire enterprise.
A wee bit thrifty,
CarrieAnne
Wee 1
Victoria thinks coupons are pretty cool for two main reasons. Cutting them out of the newspaper is the only time she gets to use really big adult scissors and because they are forbidden most of the time, she feels extra powerful with them in her hands. The kid also loves brand name snacks. Shopping with Wee 1 is like having a living infomercial chatting it up besides you. Often, I hand her the coupon and let her pick the flavor she prefers for an item. What ensues is a battle of the brands via a commercial reciting monologue. For example a few weeks ago it was time for us to buy cereal and Victoria had to choose from Rice Krispies or Frosted Flakes. Her verbalized introspection went something like this:
"Frosted flakes are "GRRRREEEAT" so clearly that would be a good choice, but Rice Krispies go "Snap, Crackle and Pop" and that is entertaining. I don't think the Frosted Flakes have every actually said anything so I am going to go with Rice Krispies -the taste and the added sound track make them better."
Wee 2
Bella is clearly flummoxed by coupons. First of all the name continually throws her for a loop and she calls them "poopons". She says this in a manner in which the "poop" part is heavily accented. She then pauses and says "ons." We don't know why she does this and what makes it even more interesting is that she clearly does not think she is being funny and in no way associates her pronunciation with a bodily function of any kind. She reacts with strong feelings of anger when teased by her pronunciation and has resisted all efforts at correcting it.
Wee 2 knows these "poopons" are imbued with magical powers, that allow us to "save" money for fun things like going to Disney World and that make cash register shelf candy free. What she doesn't get is how they do wonderful magic tricks and why everyone else doesn't use them. On more than one occasion she has asked the person checking out in front of us "You aren't going to use a "poopon" for that? Are you rich or do you just not like candy?"
Because most people - especially those without wees - don't know what a "poopon" is, we have gotten a mixture of responses from her questioning. These ranged from sheer horror of the word "poop" being mentioned and their being in close proximity to a child who may have had something to do with that recently and a kind old man who once gave her a quarter for being so concerned about his financial well being.
Wee 3
Maddie and the coupons have a very adversarial relationship. What she understands about coupons is that they take up a lot of my Tuesday morning while the girls are at school. Time she very possessively feels she should be taking up. She also feels that they must somehow be her mortal foe as when she rips, scatters, or otherwise molests them I become quite irate and send her to time out.
What Wee 3 loves about coupons are the machines which spit them out in the grocery store. She is like a heat seeking missile when she sees that little red flashing light. And whether it is something we will never use like adult diapers or something we use way to much of like baby diapers she has a compulsive need to pull one coupon from each machine. What is nice is that she only wants one, as "sharing" with strangers is far easier for her than sharing with her siblings.
Wee 4
Reid's stance on coupons is fairly ambivalent. For a 3 month old he is shockingly impervious to all forms of marketing. He cares very little about what brand of diaper he is wearing or whether or not he is getting a free candy bar at the end of the shopping trip. Though I think he finds the blinking light on instore displays entertaining, more research needs to be done on this. His primary area of interest is whether or not cutting or using coupons interferes with his eating schedule. So long as I can clip and he can sip he remains supportive of the entire enterprise.
A wee bit thrifty,
CarrieAnne
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Mom on Getting Ready for Church
Now no religion that I am aware of professes this, but I personally have to believe that in heaven there are angel accountants. The main responsibility of these angelic tallyists is to keep track of the "heaven points" earned by us mothers here on Earth. This begs the questions - "What is a heaven point and how do you earn it?"
A heaven point is a little kudos (kinda like a celestial attaboy) that we mothers earn for doing crazy things that we know are the right thing to do or that we do because we want our Wees to be happy. Examples of heaven point worthy tasks might include:
1. Cutting off all the crusts on a Wee's sandwich and I am not talking about a hatchet job here, I am talking the surgical removal of anything even remotely brown or crunchy on that pb&j.
2. Driving a Wee to 3 different birthday parties on the same Saturday, so they don't have to choose between their BFFs.
2. Attending 9am church with 4 pew wiggling, snack wanting, boredom claiming Wees every Sunday without (too much) complaining on my part.
As it is Sunday I would like to hone in on this last example. If there ever is a time when heaven points should be doled out like the coins Mario scooped up in the Nintendo games of old - it is Sunday morning.
Why you ask? Well, let me relate to you what it takes for the Wees, dad and I to get to 9 am church.
The Night Before
All church clothes must be laid out and vetted by the Wees. Much like the Golden Globes or the red carpet at the Academy Awards it is very important to Wee 1 and Wee 2 that they feel confident and focused in their Sunday best. This consultation is complete with shoe selection and hair accessory matching. Following the consultation all Wee clothes must be starched, ironed and placed in a Wee free zone to avoid rumpling, crumpling or staining. It is almost a scientifically provable law of nature that at least one wardrobe change will be requested after the last flounce is fluffed or pleat is pressed.
Now because I am still in that post-baby, pre-real clothes phase I personally have a mini fashion show of what does not fit. By some miracle each Sunday I find two pieces of clothing that don't make me look too much like the next contestant on "What Not to Wear" and I protect that outfit from Wee touching like the Holy Grail in the Crusades - because if it gets ruined going to church naked becomes a very real possibility.
Sunday Morning
On any other morning, the Wees are up tearing through the house like superheros hot on the tracks of some diabolical villain. But on Sundays, when we need it the most they are sluggish. Instead of fired up heroes they are more like Superman showering in Kryptonite. Wee 2 inevitably decides that she wants something "special" for breakfast. And I don't mean special like Cocal Krispies instead of the Vanilla white ones. She wants crepes served with homemade cream and a believable French accent. Wee 1 is mad that there is no time for cartoons. Wee 3 doesn't want to brush her teeth because the fuzzy feeling of plaque build up is "neat" and our Baby Wee has selected Sunday morning as the perfect time to actually sleep.
Once every Wee is actually fed the dressing process begins. Though all the shoes and tights were set out the night before, this preparation can not account for feet which magcially grow two sizes over night and no longer fit in their assigned shoes. Tights have runs that turn into large gullies do to little Wees forcing their fingers through them and saying "Look Mom - COOL!" . Inevitably Wee 3 who is potty training decides she has to potty after she is completely dressed and someone will certainly start crying for no reason at all.
This moment, when the tide of the battle has yet to turn and you feel as though you should capitulate - after all what is religion but a life altering ideology which will most likely help your children through all the rough patches in their mortal existence. They don't really need it right?
At this moment - heaven points become a motivating force in actually getting out the door. As I move through each crisis like a stealthy heel wearing ninja, I can hear Mario rooting me on and that ching, ching of point accumulation adding up.
Not losing my temper at Wee 2 messing up Wee 1's hair and throwing her pony tail holder into the toy box- 5 points.
Patiently flipping through the coloring books to find just "the right one" with only minutes to spare - 8 points.
Actually remembering to put the baby in the car seat and bring him with you - 11 points.
Finally, getting everyone in the car in one piece without having committed a class A felony - 25 points.
Showing up to church only 15 minutes late with a smile on your face and semi-perfect looking Wees - infinite points.
I must confess that when I walk in the door I imagine a very large crowd giving me a standing ovation and my offering a little victory speech ("No really, it was nothing - please no more applause")
Here's hoping there really are those angelic accountants up there - and if there aren't please don't ruin it for me - Sunday is only 6 days away!
A wee bit pointed,
CarrieAnne
A heaven point is a little kudos (kinda like a celestial attaboy) that we mothers earn for doing crazy things that we know are the right thing to do or that we do because we want our Wees to be happy. Examples of heaven point worthy tasks might include:
1. Cutting off all the crusts on a Wee's sandwich and I am not talking about a hatchet job here, I am talking the surgical removal of anything even remotely brown or crunchy on that pb&j.
2. Driving a Wee to 3 different birthday parties on the same Saturday, so they don't have to choose between their BFFs.
2. Attending 9am church with 4 pew wiggling, snack wanting, boredom claiming Wees every Sunday without (too much) complaining on my part.
As it is Sunday I would like to hone in on this last example. If there ever is a time when heaven points should be doled out like the coins Mario scooped up in the Nintendo games of old - it is Sunday morning.
Why you ask? Well, let me relate to you what it takes for the Wees, dad and I to get to 9 am church.
The Night Before
All church clothes must be laid out and vetted by the Wees. Much like the Golden Globes or the red carpet at the Academy Awards it is very important to Wee 1 and Wee 2 that they feel confident and focused in their Sunday best. This consultation is complete with shoe selection and hair accessory matching. Following the consultation all Wee clothes must be starched, ironed and placed in a Wee free zone to avoid rumpling, crumpling or staining. It is almost a scientifically provable law of nature that at least one wardrobe change will be requested after the last flounce is fluffed or pleat is pressed.
Now because I am still in that post-baby, pre-real clothes phase I personally have a mini fashion show of what does not fit. By some miracle each Sunday I find two pieces of clothing that don't make me look too much like the next contestant on "What Not to Wear" and I protect that outfit from Wee touching like the Holy Grail in the Crusades - because if it gets ruined going to church naked becomes a very real possibility.
Sunday Morning
On any other morning, the Wees are up tearing through the house like superheros hot on the tracks of some diabolical villain. But on Sundays, when we need it the most they are sluggish. Instead of fired up heroes they are more like Superman showering in Kryptonite. Wee 2 inevitably decides that she wants something "special" for breakfast. And I don't mean special like Cocal Krispies instead of the Vanilla white ones. She wants crepes served with homemade cream and a believable French accent. Wee 1 is mad that there is no time for cartoons. Wee 3 doesn't want to brush her teeth because the fuzzy feeling of plaque build up is "neat" and our Baby Wee has selected Sunday morning as the perfect time to actually sleep.
Once every Wee is actually fed the dressing process begins. Though all the shoes and tights were set out the night before, this preparation can not account for feet which magcially grow two sizes over night and no longer fit in their assigned shoes. Tights have runs that turn into large gullies do to little Wees forcing their fingers through them and saying "Look Mom - COOL!" . Inevitably Wee 3 who is potty training decides she has to potty after she is completely dressed and someone will certainly start crying for no reason at all.
This moment, when the tide of the battle has yet to turn and you feel as though you should capitulate - after all what is religion but a life altering ideology which will most likely help your children through all the rough patches in their mortal existence. They don't really need it right?
At this moment - heaven points become a motivating force in actually getting out the door. As I move through each crisis like a stealthy heel wearing ninja, I can hear Mario rooting me on and that ching, ching of point accumulation adding up.
Not losing my temper at Wee 2 messing up Wee 1's hair and throwing her pony tail holder into the toy box- 5 points.
Patiently flipping through the coloring books to find just "the right one" with only minutes to spare - 8 points.
Actually remembering to put the baby in the car seat and bring him with you - 11 points.
Finally, getting everyone in the car in one piece without having committed a class A felony - 25 points.
Showing up to church only 15 minutes late with a smile on your face and semi-perfect looking Wees - infinite points.
I must confess that when I walk in the door I imagine a very large crowd giving me a standing ovation and my offering a little victory speech ("No really, it was nothing - please no more applause")
Here's hoping there really are those angelic accountants up there - and if there aren't please don't ruin it for me - Sunday is only 6 days away!
A wee bit pointed,
CarrieAnne
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Wees on Dancing
Music plays an integral part in taming the Wees in our family. My husband knows that if he walks in the door to church hymns that I am on my last ounce of fortitude and hoping for divine intervention.
Aside from using it to calm the kids we also use it to have a pretty much daily dance party after school. I think that after a hard day of ciphering, reading, and making paper mache robots - kids need a bit of free form crazy before doing homework. Never having been interested in the Studio 54 type of club scene, I'm not sure what happens out there in the real world, but here in Weeland we have a number of dance styles I'm fairly sure you won't find anywhere else. For example the following moves were in play after school today.
Wee 1: Favorite Dances - Anything to do with Yard Tools. Think literally here - Victoria has taught us the sprinkler, the lawnmower, and the rake. These are all great impersonations of real work - what I can't figure out is why when the lawn actually needs to be sprinkled, mowed, or raked she claims a total lack of knowledge on how these tasks are to be performed. I am also a bit fuzzy on Black and Decker as her muse? Any feedback on that would be welcome.
Wee 2: A strong believer in the merits of the classically trained, Bella likes to keep it as en pointe as possible. That is until the beat gets to her and then its arabesque into an electric slide or pirouette into a bit of hammer time. It only takes a song or two until she has completely deconstructed Swan Lake into a routine any 1980's roller rink skater would be proud of.
Wee 3: I imagine Maddie's dancing is not to different than that at an actual Rave (can't say though for sure since 30 something soccer moms aren't welcome at those events as investigative reporters). Because just being around the other kids gets her hyped up she crazily runs around the room and then does her best impersonation of the twist with a Heimlich Maneuver and kung fu chop thrown in for style points. Bright lights and day glo necklaces only increase her fervor and she often only stops due to complete organ failure brought about by exhaustion and juice box withdrawal.
Wee 4: Due to the whole lack of spinal strength and having only just mastered holding up his head, we have a pretty low standard for what we count as dancing for Wee 4. He currently fancies the blink, the crazy drool with super cute smile and the occasional arm jerk. Now some of you might be skeptical that these are in fact real dance moves - but what are the odds that every jerk would be in time with Beyonce's "If You Like Then You Should Have Put a Ring On It." I am telling you the boy is a natural.
The dancing normal ends in a fit of breathless giggles and then its on to more serious things like sight words and multiplication - but its super fun while it lasts.
A wee bit of a toe tapper,
CarrieAnne
Aside from using it to calm the kids we also use it to have a pretty much daily dance party after school. I think that after a hard day of ciphering, reading, and making paper mache robots - kids need a bit of free form crazy before doing homework. Never having been interested in the Studio 54 type of club scene, I'm not sure what happens out there in the real world, but here in Weeland we have a number of dance styles I'm fairly sure you won't find anywhere else. For example the following moves were in play after school today.
Wee 1: Favorite Dances - Anything to do with Yard Tools. Think literally here - Victoria has taught us the sprinkler, the lawnmower, and the rake. These are all great impersonations of real work - what I can't figure out is why when the lawn actually needs to be sprinkled, mowed, or raked she claims a total lack of knowledge on how these tasks are to be performed. I am also a bit fuzzy on Black and Decker as her muse? Any feedback on that would be welcome.
Wee 2: A strong believer in the merits of the classically trained, Bella likes to keep it as en pointe as possible. That is until the beat gets to her and then its arabesque into an electric slide or pirouette into a bit of hammer time. It only takes a song or two until she has completely deconstructed Swan Lake into a routine any 1980's roller rink skater would be proud of.
Wee 3: I imagine Maddie's dancing is not to different than that at an actual Rave (can't say though for sure since 30 something soccer moms aren't welcome at those events as investigative reporters). Because just being around the other kids gets her hyped up she crazily runs around the room and then does her best impersonation of the twist with a Heimlich Maneuver and kung fu chop thrown in for style points. Bright lights and day glo necklaces only increase her fervor and she often only stops due to complete organ failure brought about by exhaustion and juice box withdrawal.
Wee 4: Due to the whole lack of spinal strength and having only just mastered holding up his head, we have a pretty low standard for what we count as dancing for Wee 4. He currently fancies the blink, the crazy drool with super cute smile and the occasional arm jerk. Now some of you might be skeptical that these are in fact real dance moves - but what are the odds that every jerk would be in time with Beyonce's "If You Like Then You Should Have Put a Ring On It." I am telling you the boy is a natural.
The dancing normal ends in a fit of breathless giggles and then its on to more serious things like sight words and multiplication - but its super fun while it lasts.
A wee bit of a toe tapper,
CarrieAnne
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Reid on Entertainment
Though Wee 4 is obviously my fourth child - meaning I successfully raised past infancy 3 other children, I occasionally lose my common sense and use the internet to seek out those hidden gems of parenting I just must have missed the first three times around.
The conundrum I am currently facing is Reid's love of the night life. The kid can't get enough of it. He is every day (with very, very few exceptions) up from 11pm to 4am. Now if this was my first rodeo - it wouldn't be so bad. I would be 7 years younger and not have a dictator (Wee 3) that wakes up at 6am everyday.
With the bags under my eyes beginning to exceed the free weight limits for your first piece of luggage on most airlines, late last night I went in search of advice. Now I don't necessarily feel Reid has to sleep during these hours. If I could at least put him down or entertain him in some other way than singing old Army cadences (he can't get enough of these) I would be thrilled.
Here is what the Parenting Experts say I should do:
1. Play Classical Music - it is sure to soothe my gentle giant and some how make him smarter.
2. Place a slow moving and mirrored object above his head.
3. Speak softly to him with short mono-syllabic words.
So, in desperation and after looking around to make sure no other moms were around at 3am to mock me, I did all these things - many times.
The results - nada, zip - not one moment of happy quietness. Instead, most of the time Wee 4 looked at me as if I had lost my slow moving, classical music playing, gibberish speaking mind. And then to stress the point he was baffled - he screamed, loudly.
In the face of overwhelming defeat I needed to rethink my strategy - did I actually think any of these things were entertaining? Nope. I find classical music depressing (sorry I know that's uncultured) - I find looking at myself in the mirror a bit dull - I mean no matter how many times I blink it is still me - and its really difficult to have an interesting conversation when you are only allowed to use the words on your daughter's kindergarten spelling list.
So here is my new list of things to do when Wee 4 is fussy at night. Each one is Reid tested and giggle inducingly approved. In fact from now on when having a bad day I may do these things to make myself less fussy.
1. Play happy music with a solid base and good tempo - and play it loudly. In fact, combine playing it loudly with goofy dance steps and lots of butt wiggling.
2. Turn Reid's mobile off automatic and spin it as rapidly as possible. The closer Reid's little ocean animal friends came to a mass concussion the harder he laughed.
3. Say long interesting words in a variety of voices. I found Reid likes bizarre cooking ingredients read off in Kung-Fu movie voices. For example "caaarrrraaaadddddammmmooommm" or "muuuuggggwarrrrtt" in different octaves are surefire winners. Throw in an occasional high pitched "hi ya" and "wiiieee" and you are golden.
Now some of you are probably thinking "how did she ever get Wee 4 to sleep once he was so wound up?" Laughter, laughter is the key - apparently in small infants it causes hiccups and exhaustion. Wee 4 went down an hour early last night and once again I proved that real mothers can kick expert butt on little sleep and with no complicated studies or research.
Morale of the Story: Trust your gut - after all that's where your baby spent all his time before birth and he was pretty happy in there.
A bit sheepish for briefly losing my mind,
CarrieAnne
The conundrum I am currently facing is Reid's love of the night life. The kid can't get enough of it. He is every day (with very, very few exceptions) up from 11pm to 4am. Now if this was my first rodeo - it wouldn't be so bad. I would be 7 years younger and not have a dictator (Wee 3) that wakes up at 6am everyday.
With the bags under my eyes beginning to exceed the free weight limits for your first piece of luggage on most airlines, late last night I went in search of advice. Now I don't necessarily feel Reid has to sleep during these hours. If I could at least put him down or entertain him in some other way than singing old Army cadences (he can't get enough of these) I would be thrilled.
Here is what the Parenting Experts say I should do:
1. Play Classical Music - it is sure to soothe my gentle giant and some how make him smarter.
2. Place a slow moving and mirrored object above his head.
3. Speak softly to him with short mono-syllabic words.
So, in desperation and after looking around to make sure no other moms were around at 3am to mock me, I did all these things - many times.
The results - nada, zip - not one moment of happy quietness. Instead, most of the time Wee 4 looked at me as if I had lost my slow moving, classical music playing, gibberish speaking mind. And then to stress the point he was baffled - he screamed, loudly.
In the face of overwhelming defeat I needed to rethink my strategy - did I actually think any of these things were entertaining? Nope. I find classical music depressing (sorry I know that's uncultured) - I find looking at myself in the mirror a bit dull - I mean no matter how many times I blink it is still me - and its really difficult to have an interesting conversation when you are only allowed to use the words on your daughter's kindergarten spelling list.
So here is my new list of things to do when Wee 4 is fussy at night. Each one is Reid tested and giggle inducingly approved. In fact from now on when having a bad day I may do these things to make myself less fussy.
1. Play happy music with a solid base and good tempo - and play it loudly. In fact, combine playing it loudly with goofy dance steps and lots of butt wiggling.
2. Turn Reid's mobile off automatic and spin it as rapidly as possible. The closer Reid's little ocean animal friends came to a mass concussion the harder he laughed.
3. Say long interesting words in a variety of voices. I found Reid likes bizarre cooking ingredients read off in Kung-Fu movie voices. For example "caaarrrraaaadddddammmmooommm" or "muuuuggggwarrrrtt" in different octaves are surefire winners. Throw in an occasional high pitched "hi ya" and "wiiieee" and you are golden.
Now some of you are probably thinking "how did she ever get Wee 4 to sleep once he was so wound up?" Laughter, laughter is the key - apparently in small infants it causes hiccups and exhaustion. Wee 4 went down an hour early last night and once again I proved that real mothers can kick expert butt on little sleep and with no complicated studies or research.
Morale of the Story: Trust your gut - after all that's where your baby spent all his time before birth and he was pretty happy in there.
A bit sheepish for briefly losing my mind,
CarrieAnne
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