Last night was hubby's crossing over from lowly Bachelor Degree to awesome MBA. At least that's what I told the kiddo's when asked why daddy had to have another graduation. They seemed to get it.
The one hour long commencement ceremony started with me and the boys sitting in the bleachers, midway through we were standing in the back being blown away by the big industrial fans (yes, the kids started saying, "Luke, I am your father" into them) and ending with us running up and down the stairs to the balcony over looking the auditorium. It was the longest hour ever in the history of my life.
The older boys are reasonable. You can tell them they need to sit and be quiet and, besides normal wiggling and armrest wars, they are well behaved and have been that way since they were young. At least that's how I am remembering it. I'm sure many will tell me "No, they were pretty horrible." But then how much worse are the last two if they trump the memory of the first terrible two?
The youngest two are monsters. Pure and simple. No, no, monsters can be tamed. They are terrorists. They hold you hostage, being forced to give into their every whim, because the moment you don't, the torrent of screams that emanate from the once sweet little faces reduce you to begging and pleading for quiet. And keeping the babies quiet at all cost is our way of life.
I have no idea what changed in my parenting techniques between child 2 and child 3. I'm pretty sure I'm the same, but was given two heathens to try and raise. They are impossible, number 4 being the worst. However, in his defence, he has slept through the night since just a few months old, a feat which was unimaginable to the other boys for many years. So I should just be glad I was well rested before having to deal with the terrifying terrible two in public.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
The Scout, the Big Boy and the Nose Snatcher
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, known as Rolla, MO, a tale was told of a mother who attempted to go shopping with her 4 boys in tow. It is fraught with adventure and passion (for noses). It is told as she told it to her doctor in the mental institution she is now kept in for her safety and for the safety of those around her. This is her story.
It was a Wednesday in October 2009. That night was Cub Scouts for Josh and signing class for Jack and myself (playtime for Sam and Frank). We needed to also go shopping since we were dangerously low on toilet paper, which is interesting since I had just bought a big pack the week before. (Sam keeps giving potty-training a try ever now and then, so this may be my discrepancy) Both Scouts and signing start at 7pm and end at 8pm so we had to go shopping before.
As we were getting ready to leave the house, Josh was getting ready in his scout uniform, Jack started to feel left out. So, for the 55 minute drive into town, we heard nothing but "It's not FAIR! Why does Josh get to go to scouts! When can I get to go? They won't do anything fun by the time I get to scouts! etc..." I tried reasoning with him "When you're 8 you'll be in scouts. But, until then, it's so much fun to be 5" followed by a list of all the cool things you can do at 5 that an 8 year old can't. (It wasn't a very big list.) Well, that just gave him the new argument "I HATE being 5. 5 is a dumb number. etc..."
We get to Wal-mart with about 30 minutes left before Scouts starts, so I give the pep talk about rushing through, best behavior, being left in the frozen food section if behavior was not the best, the normal routine.
It takes awhile to get in the store because Sam has decided to be a big boy and not sit in the cart, hold onto the cart, walk near the cart, or even hold a hand, so we have to keep rounding him up before he walks into a car or trips over the curb. All the while Jack is still moaning over his horrible lot in life, Josh is proudly wearing his Scout uniform and trying to look perfect, and Frank is Frank is Frank.
When we finally get into the store we see a soldier from Fort Leonard Wood in full, standard issue camo. Jackson, using his best inside voice that can carry all the way to the back of the store, says "Look, an Army Guy! I'll bet he's killed alot of bad guys! Do you think there's blood on his uniform? Oh, my gosh, is his tank in the parking lot?!" Josh impishly replies, "No, he probably took the helicopter!" finding himself hilarious. Jack looks to the ceiling as if to see it on the roof, and Sam, who is still no where near us, starts making helicopter noises. Just then the soldier, smiling at all this, comes over to say hi to the boys, sees Josh in his uniform and tells Josh "Stay in scouts, It's the best thing for you. I'm an Eagle." This causes Josh to puff with pride and Jack to be reminded how bad life is.
As we go down the first aisle I ask Sam, who didn't come down with us since he's such a big boy he doesn't need to, if he can get the jar of mayo for me. He runs down to do this big boy chore. Jack, still in a funk, starts whining that I should have asked him first because he's older. Sam, at this point chucks the jar of mayo in the cart on the loaf of bread I had just put in and I ask Jack to also get a jar of mayo which is also tossed onto the bread. (No idea why I got bread first. You would think I would have learned by then.) I then ask Jack to get the ranch dressing, which causes Sam to be upset so he also gets a bottle of ranch dressing. Let's just say, in the end, our cart looked like Noah's ark with 2 of everything.
We get to the toilet paper aisle where another person comes up to Josh and comments on how great he is to be a scout. Josh beams, Jack bemoans the world around him.
Like so many who have gone before him, Jack comes up with a fool-proof way to make himself feel better, namely, tease the younger brother. As we are rushing through the aisles to get to the Health and Beauty department, Jack unleashes his evil plot.
Sam loves to play the "got your nose" game, where he steals your nose and eats it. He, however does not like the stealing and eating of his nose. Jack knows this, having been sent to his room for teasing his brother like this before. This doesn't stop Jackson.
As we go down the soap aisle Jack reaches over, steals Sam's nose and promptly eats it with a loud gulp. Sam, now noseless in the middle of Wal-mart, starts to scream, chasing Jack around my cart. Punching, pinching, kicking, and biting ensue. All of my efforts to stop them was in vain, so I had to say something I never thought I'd have to say "Jackson Robert, throw that up and give your brother back his nose!" It worked. Jackson, dramatically threw up the nose, handed it to Sam, who dusted it off and placed it back on his face.
We still had 15 min to go before scouts and as they were behaving now, we went to the Halloween section. As the boys were oohing and ahhing over the costumes and decorations, I found a Sponge Bob book that was in 3-D complete with 3-D glasses. None of them seemed to notice it and I thought how much fun it would be to surprise them with it at story time.
We made it through the Halloween section with no issues and even started to check-out with little worries. Then Jack saw the Sponge Bob book on the conveyor belt and started bellowing how he should get to be the first to read it, how it's not fair if he's not the first. I told him that unless he stops right now the book was gone. He stopped instantly, with Sam then picking up the slack with screams of "BOB! BOB!" Trying to get him to stop was harder and finally I used the only threat I had left in me "If you don't stop now I'll eat your nose." He grabbed his nose and whispered "no, nose."
The cashier started to laugh and said "Oh, you're THAT family! Someone came by a little bit ago talking about the boy who lost his nose."
At least we're memorable.
It was a Wednesday in October 2009. That night was Cub Scouts for Josh and signing class for Jack and myself (playtime for Sam and Frank). We needed to also go shopping since we were dangerously low on toilet paper, which is interesting since I had just bought a big pack the week before. (Sam keeps giving potty-training a try ever now and then, so this may be my discrepancy) Both Scouts and signing start at 7pm and end at 8pm so we had to go shopping before.
As we were getting ready to leave the house, Josh was getting ready in his scout uniform, Jack started to feel left out. So, for the 55 minute drive into town, we heard nothing but "It's not FAIR! Why does Josh get to go to scouts! When can I get to go? They won't do anything fun by the time I get to scouts! etc..." I tried reasoning with him "When you're 8 you'll be in scouts. But, until then, it's so much fun to be 5" followed by a list of all the cool things you can do at 5 that an 8 year old can't. (It wasn't a very big list.) Well, that just gave him the new argument "I HATE being 5. 5 is a dumb number. etc..."
We get to Wal-mart with about 30 minutes left before Scouts starts, so I give the pep talk about rushing through, best behavior, being left in the frozen food section if behavior was not the best, the normal routine.
It takes awhile to get in the store because Sam has decided to be a big boy and not sit in the cart, hold onto the cart, walk near the cart, or even hold a hand, so we have to keep rounding him up before he walks into a car or trips over the curb. All the while Jack is still moaning over his horrible lot in life, Josh is proudly wearing his Scout uniform and trying to look perfect, and Frank is Frank is Frank.
When we finally get into the store we see a soldier from Fort Leonard Wood in full, standard issue camo. Jackson, using his best inside voice that can carry all the way to the back of the store, says "Look, an Army Guy! I'll bet he's killed alot of bad guys! Do you think there's blood on his uniform? Oh, my gosh, is his tank in the parking lot?!" Josh impishly replies, "No, he probably took the helicopter!" finding himself hilarious. Jack looks to the ceiling as if to see it on the roof, and Sam, who is still no where near us, starts making helicopter noises. Just then the soldier, smiling at all this, comes over to say hi to the boys, sees Josh in his uniform and tells Josh "Stay in scouts, It's the best thing for you. I'm an Eagle." This causes Josh to puff with pride and Jack to be reminded how bad life is.
As we go down the first aisle I ask Sam, who didn't come down with us since he's such a big boy he doesn't need to, if he can get the jar of mayo for me. He runs down to do this big boy chore. Jack, still in a funk, starts whining that I should have asked him first because he's older. Sam, at this point chucks the jar of mayo in the cart on the loaf of bread I had just put in and I ask Jack to also get a jar of mayo which is also tossed onto the bread. (No idea why I got bread first. You would think I would have learned by then.) I then ask Jack to get the ranch dressing, which causes Sam to be upset so he also gets a bottle of ranch dressing. Let's just say, in the end, our cart looked like Noah's ark with 2 of everything.
We get to the toilet paper aisle where another person comes up to Josh and comments on how great he is to be a scout. Josh beams, Jack bemoans the world around him.
Like so many who have gone before him, Jack comes up with a fool-proof way to make himself feel better, namely, tease the younger brother. As we are rushing through the aisles to get to the Health and Beauty department, Jack unleashes his evil plot.
Sam loves to play the "got your nose" game, where he steals your nose and eats it. He, however does not like the stealing and eating of his nose. Jack knows this, having been sent to his room for teasing his brother like this before. This doesn't stop Jackson.
As we go down the soap aisle Jack reaches over, steals Sam's nose and promptly eats it with a loud gulp. Sam, now noseless in the middle of Wal-mart, starts to scream, chasing Jack around my cart. Punching, pinching, kicking, and biting ensue. All of my efforts to stop them was in vain, so I had to say something I never thought I'd have to say "Jackson Robert, throw that up and give your brother back his nose!" It worked. Jackson, dramatically threw up the nose, handed it to Sam, who dusted it off and placed it back on his face.
We still had 15 min to go before scouts and as they were behaving now, we went to the Halloween section. As the boys were oohing and ahhing over the costumes and decorations, I found a Sponge Bob book that was in 3-D complete with 3-D glasses. None of them seemed to notice it and I thought how much fun it would be to surprise them with it at story time.
We made it through the Halloween section with no issues and even started to check-out with little worries. Then Jack saw the Sponge Bob book on the conveyor belt and started bellowing how he should get to be the first to read it, how it's not fair if he's not the first. I told him that unless he stops right now the book was gone. He stopped instantly, with Sam then picking up the slack with screams of "BOB! BOB!" Trying to get him to stop was harder and finally I used the only threat I had left in me "If you don't stop now I'll eat your nose." He grabbed his nose and whispered "no, nose."
The cashier started to laugh and said "Oh, you're THAT family! Someone came by a little bit ago talking about the boy who lost his nose."
At least we're memorable.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
The Blog Virgin
This may surprise some, but there are, somewhere out there, people like me. People who don't "blog". I will be honest, I don't even know what the word "blog" means. Is it short for something, stand for something? I don't know and, frankly, I just don't care. However, there comes at point in everyones life where they say, "It's OK if I blog. Everyone else is doing it. I can stop anytime I want." So, here I am writing...I'm not sure who reads these things as I have only looked at family members blogs and only because I was guilted into it. I am sure anything I type will be held against me in a court of law or, at least, by those who read this. So, to save myself a load of trouble, I would like to offer a disclaimer. I, Em, am entirely off the hook of any offence taken, any hurt feelings, and any "what did she just say?" moments. Any and all blame is issued to you, the reader. By reading this you have accepted all responsibility. Haha! Little did you realize! Well, I really have nothing else to add to this "post" (look at me, using bloggish lingo!) other than, in the time it took me to figure out how to start this blog up, I successfully burnt the chicken wings I so desperately wanted. Now don't you feel ashamed for causing me to do that!
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