Toys are SO last year

Little Hurricane is a sophisticated toddler.  He wants nothing to do with those little baby toys.  Nope, he’s going right for the big stuff.     

No little learning toy with blinking lights and sounds for him.

Laptops are WAY cooler.

And who wants to beat on a little plastic drum or bang on fake piano keys when you can have the real deal?

Little Miss’ flute is so much more fun.

Why would he waste any of his time playing with a Handy Manny tool set when he has this?

How many babies do you know that get to play
with an air compressor?

Don’t even get me started on the fake plastic food and kitchen stuff.  Lame.

You can actually eat what comes out of this baby.

And what about all those silly toddlers still messing with their sippy cups? 

Babies.

Well, maybe he’s carried it a bit too far.

WW: More Bars in More Places

Balls, Balls, Balls

Little Hurricane LOVES balls.  He’s obsessed, really.  Give him a ball to play with and he’s entertained for hours. 

His favorite thing to do is throw the ball at people.  Then when they get knocked upside the head and say “Ouch!”, he laughs and laughs.

And does it again.

He has a little bit of a mean streak in him, I think.

He also loves to throw balls at the tv.  When The Dada or I freak out over a hard ball being thrown at our only television, Little Hurricane thinks that’s hilarious as well.

The other day he was throwing this small but hard bouncy ball around the room.  He started throwing it at the tv, and I went to go take the ball away from him.  But then it bounced over the tv and landed behind it.  I went back to my cooking, figuring that was a good place for it to stay.

A few minutes later The Dada points to our living room and says, “Look, do you think that’s a problem?”

Hmmm, I’m betting I will be in the market for a new television pretty soon.

This Blog's Been Taken Over!!!!!

Welcome!  I know you were expecting my mom, but it’s me,

 CamCam! 

Gosh, there’s so many of you, way more then I ever imagined!  My mom’s been talking for DAYS about today and “all the lovely SITStas” that would be coming.  She said it was her turn to be the featured blogger on SITS, this fabulous community that’s all about women bloggers supporting each other. 

And I’m taking advantage of this.

You see, my mom’s been using this blog to let everyone know what I’ve been up to.  But she’s only telling her side.  No one ever gets to hear MY side of things. 

So this was my big opportunity.

I got my older brother and sister to keep my mom up late.  I bribed the baby to wake mom up like 6 times last night.  And my big brother “Mr. Trouble” went to sleep in her bed for me and kicked her in the back all night long.

Hehehe, she hardly got any sleep last night.  So she’s slept right through her big day.

She’s gonna be really angry when she finds out she missed it.

But I knew TONS of you would be coming to visit today, and now I can let everyone know what’s really up.

First off, she’ll complain about how I’m always making messes, messes, and more messes.  Take books, for instance. 

Yeah, I know it doesn’t look good.  But I couldn’t find the book I wanted!  And I know it looks nice to have them all neatly stacked up with the titles facing out, BUT I CAN’T READ!   I pull them all off so I can see the picture on the front.  Then I can find the one I want.  And you know what, it isn’t always going to be the first book I pull mom!  Sometimes it might be the last book on the shelf. 

Next, she’ll probably tell you how I give her a hard time when we go out to Target, or the grocery store, or the pediatrician. 

Ok, look at the size of my belly:

It’s WAY too big for my body.  Obviously I’m going to be hungry all the time.  So not my fault. 

And then you’re going to take me to a place that has yummy food stacked up higher then I can see?

And then you’re going to tell me I can’t touch any of it?!?

Seriously, what do you expect from me? 

Don’t even get me started on the pediatrician- it’s got to be the most boring place ever and there’s always the chance I’ll get stabbed in the arm or leg at the end.  I saw “The Baby” cooing and smiling at that doc lady and then, BAM! 

 

She stabbed him! Right in the leg. Three times! I figure if I throw a fit, she’ll leave me alone.  Cause if she sees I’m that loud without being stabbed with her giant needle, she’ll be scared of how loud I COULD be.

I’ll admit, some things I have no excuse for.  My reason for all this?  I’m testing my momma.  Seeing what her limits are, how much she can take.  What she’ll let me get away with.  I figure I’ll do this all now while I’m little and cute.  Being little and cute lets you get away with a TON.  Once I got her all figured out, I’ll pull back a bit.  And then, when I’m a teenager, I’ll know exactly what I can get away with.  Pretty clever huh?

Well, now I got some pretty big news for you.  As much fun as this past year and a half has been, I think it’s only fair now that I give my little brother a chance to be two.  So this is as good a time as any to announce my retirement. 

I am officially retiring from the “Terrible Twos”. 

 

Yeah, I know, I’m a little late.  Like I said, it was fun.  But now it’s time to pass on the torch and let “Little Hurricane” shine. 

Don’t worry, I’ve taught him well. 

How Does Your Child Embarrass You?

Why do our kids try so hard to embarrass us in public?  Or worse, maybe they’re not even trying!  Maybe it just happens.  If this is the case, imagine what they could do if they really did try! 

They say if you want an honest answer, ask a child.  There’s no denying it, a young child will just say whatever pops into their head.  They haven’t yet learnt social graces, they have no idea that what they say could offend or upset someone. 

I noticed it.
Everyone else notices it.
It’s the truth.
Why shouldn’t I say it?

I think it would be quite helpful if my preschoolers could read and write.  And then I’d have them carry around a pad of sticky notes and a pen.  Then, instead of just saying whatever pops into their head, they could write it down and hand it to me.  Especially since we ALL know how “quiet” a child’s “whisper” is. 

Case in point:

And the follow up question:

Or this classic one:

Or then this conversation would have never happened:

Mom, that lady….

Shhhhh….

But that lady……

Shhhhh……

How about those annoying stores that ask for your phone number at the register?

Or when you have to bring your children with you to the very quiet chiropractor’s office and the nice doctor comes over to meet your kids:

I’m drowning in testosterone!

I am not a loud, crazy person.  I am calm.  I like quiet.  Noise stresses me out. 

So how did I get four loud, wild, chaotic boys ? 

At least I have Little Miss.  She can keep them in check.  When she plays with them, she makes sure things never escalate out of control.  But some day she’ll grow up and move out.  Even if she waits until she’s 20 to move out, the little 3 will only be 15, 13 and 12. 

I’m pretty sure they’ll still be living here at that age.  Pretty sure.

Which means I’ll be the only girl.

The only girl in a house full of boys. 

Sometimes Little Miss stays away overnight and I get a glimpse of what my life will be like. Full of burping, poop jokes, and mess.  And at the end of every sentence, CamCam will say- “Like my buuutttt!!!!”   I don’t quite know what he means by that, but it evokes a squeal of laughter from his brothers. 

Even when they’re playing nicely together, it doesn’t take much to send everything spiraling out of control.  Today Nolie and CamCam were playing with a jump rope.  Nolie let go of his end, and it snapped and hit CamCam.  CamCam screamed and cried, and, because he was mad at Nolie, he pushed The Baby down.  Because CamCam firmly believes that when you’re mad at someone bigger then you, it’s best to pick on someone smaller then you.   The Baby screamed and cried, and LaLa ran down to the basement before I could.  He yelled at Nolie for hurting his brother, and pushed him away from them.  Which made Nolie get upset.  And also scared The Baby, who cried even louder. 

Everyone got in on this one.  A simple little mishap and I have a room of screaming and crying boys.   

Dear Crayola,

Hey Crayola,

This:

TONS of fun.

My boys LOVED it.

But this:

It’s tiny, let’s look a little Closer:

THIS is something I’d like to talk with you about. 

Easy to clean means I spray my shower with the hand held sprayer and it’s clean.  But my shower still looked like this:

Easy to clean could even mean that I spray a little 409 on my shower, then spray it with water and it’s clean.  But my shower still looked like this:

Easy to clean definitely does not mean I spend 20 minutes on my knees with a scrubber and spray bottle of bleach.

Wait.

What’s that?

Oh, you put an asterisk at the end???

Oh, ok, sorry, my bad.

Sincerely,

CamCam’s Mommy

I Forgot For a Moment We’re a Freak-Show

It happens to me every year.  At some point after the older kids start school in the fall, I forget that we’re unusual. 

Weird.

Something to be pointed at.

Gawked at.

But once Christmas break starts, I remember. 

I have five kids.

When I’m out and about with just the three little boys, sometimes people will comment on the closeness in age of the three.  But it’s nothing compared to the reaction I get when I’m out with all five.  I live in a part of the country that definitely adheres to the Average American Family with 2.1 kids.  Five just goes way too far beyond that for most people’s comfort. 

There’s lots of staring.  Finger pointing.  Whispered comments.  Mouths silently moving as a count is made.  But the worst is the comments.

Oh the comments I hear.

“Boy, you’ve got your hands full!”  Definitely the one I hear the most.  I think it’s the standard response by someone who realizes that the mom in front of them has more then the average amount of kids and wants to make sure the mom also knows she has more then the average amount of kids. 

“Are they all yours?”  Very close second.  I love the emphasis on all, as if it’s so difficult for them to wrap their brain around the fact that I actually choose to have five kids.  My favorite place to hear this is the grocery store, I’m like: “Nope, it’s just so much fun to take kids grocery shopping that I round up the neighborhood kids before I go out!”

“How many kids DO you have?!?”  It’s too high for me to count!  The shock!  The horror!

“Better you then me!”  Agreed.

“Four boys?  Oh you poor women.”  Thanks for saying that in front of my boys, I’m sure you just helped out their self-esteem immensely.

“You know what causes that, don’t you?”  This one I heard a ton when I was pregnant with my fifth, with a nod to the belly.  Like kids are some sort of disease, something that we catch. 

“Hasn’t your husband ever heard of a vasectomy?”  Oh wow, you didn’t just ask that?  No joke, I’ve heard this one from people I know AND complete strangers. 

“Five kids!  That’s gotta be torture!”  Thank you Mr. Walmart greeter, way to welcome me into your store.  And I wonder why I prefer Target?

The other day I was out grocery shopping with my crew, and had the normal reaction throughout my shopping trip.  And then as I was leaving the store, an elderly gentleman who works there says to me, “Look at all those little kids, your one lucky momma!”  I smiled at him and said, “Thank you, yes I am.”  He looked away and wistfully said, “We never had kids.”  His comment touched me so much. 

And so to anyone who happens to be out and notices someone who has more then the average amount of kids, that’s the perfect thing to say.

You’re one lucky momma.