Mole Bats and Advice

My previously discussed Middle Child has only in the past 2 years or so become a rather difficult person; prior to that she was basically the human incarnation of Disney's Tigger. Bounding through life with unbridled natural exuberance, more or less oblivious to any destruction she might be leaving in her wake... wait, I think maybe she's still Tigger, just the dark version. Darth Tigger, if you will. But for the first twelve or so years of her life, she pretty much looked like this:

Man, I miss that kid! Hopefully, she'll be back in a few years.

My Oldest, though, my one and only boy child, has always been more of an Eeyore. A good guy, hilariously funny, actually, and sensitive and kind, but always a worrier. Hiding behind his hair from the moment he had a say in the matter, fretting over things in a way to which it's difficult for me to relate. (I'm more of a cockeyed optimist, I think.) This is him, with the little sister he adores, on his mom's birthday:

See what I mean?

I'm not sure how the Small One will turn out, of course, but I do know she is a girl with a purpose. Always with an agenda, that one, and pretty insistent upon it's execution. A funny thing about her lately, though- she's gotten lazy with some pronunciation. I mean, she's not quite two, so she requires a bit of translation anyway, but there are a few things she used to say VERY clearly, clearly enough for complete strangers to understand, that she's starting to slur a little, just because she knows we know what she means. The biggest example of this is the way she asks to nurse. We're still breastfeeding, but typically we prefer to nurse on the bed, because I'm not one for nursing a toddler in front of people. (Well- with a few exceptions.) When she wants milk, she does the sign for milk and says, usually very loudly, "MILK BED MOMMY, PLEASE!!!!!" But recently, she shortened this to "MILK BED PLEASE" and now she's begun to say "MILKBED!" as one word, but she's started slurring it, so it sounds more like "MOLEBAT!" than anything else.

We pretend not to understand her. We say "Molebats? Where? We don't want any molebats around here!" And then she slows down and pronounces it, but it makes her mad, I can tell. What is a molebat, anyway? I don't think I want to meet one!

But I digress, because I wanted to talk about my eldest. He has a new favorite phrase, which he tosses at me any time I attempt to make a suggestion about his life. The phrase? "ARE YOU CRAZY?!?!?" As in "Hey, maybe you should go jogging!" "ARE YOU CRAZY? It's too hot." "I think you should take Spanish over the summer." "ARE YOU CRAZY? I don't want to spend my summer doing school!" (And yes, he took the class, and made a high A, so perhaps I am not as crazy as previously suggested, eh?)

Over the weekend, we had a bit of a falling out. He signed up for football, went to one practice, wants to quit. I think that's not the best of plans, and maybe he should try to tough it out for a little while longer and see if he can do it. "ARE YOU CRAZY? If I stay in football I'll either have to quit my night job or fail my classes!" So I suggest he quit his night job (because he has a seasonal weekend job as well) and he, of course, asks if I am crazy, because if he quits his night job, then when the seasonal job ends he'll have NO job.

So I did what any self respecting mom would do. I gave one final piece of advice: "Call your father." Because really, what do I care about football? I don't even LIKE football. But his dad just put $200 into football equipment, so he may wish to have a say.

Today, Oldest Child comes in after school and says "What should I do about school and work and football?" Not being in the mood today to have my sanity questioned, I say "I don't know, Honey." He gets this really hurt look on his face and says "You always do that! You refuse to give me advice!"

I was rather stunned by this particular criticism, and looked at him askance. He said "It's TRUE! You either tell me to do whatever I want, or you tell me what I'm doing is the wrong thing, or you tell me you don't know!?!?!?"

Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that called "giving advice"?

Welcome to My World

It's been suggested that I start blogging, and this morning seems as good a time as any to open a window to our world and allow a glimpse. I should start, I suppose, by introducing myself... wife, mom to three kids and multiple pets, terrible assistant to a virtual tour mogul (who happens to be my dear cousin), member of the home school community, all around random human...but it will give you a better idea if I just jump into this morning's narrative, I think.

Actually, in order to explain this morning, I have to go back to yesterday, but to explain yesterday requires an understanding of the whole week. Do you see why I haven't blogged before? Too complex. Let's jump right in, shall we?

• Monday- first day of school. No outside commitments! Whee! Only one little child at home! Yippee for me! Small one refuses to nap until time for bigs to get home, day is not so easy, middle child misses bus home, I make her take public transit because really, I'm not so much going to wake up the baby to pick up someone who can't be bothered to walk out to the free transportation parked at the curb. Bigs come home totaled from school, I end up running errands on their behalf until 9pm, dinner is atrociously late.
• Tuesday- Hooray! No commitments! Whee! End up watching my niece and nephew all morning, nap time ends up pushed back until bigs get home, still MORE unexpected errands to run, dinner is atrociously late.
• Wednesday- the Man's birthday. Whee! Big plans include a craft project with small one, a run to my friend's house for supplies, and an elaborate Indian dinner. (Made from scratch, of course!) Day goes off in a ditch, late to friend's house, lose track of time there watching our littles play together, bigs end up locked out of the house and surly. Naptime never occurs. Dinner is atrociously late. (Do you see a pattern?)
• Thursday- no commitments? (Cautious whee?) EXTREMELY productive morning. Small one and I have a whole preschool kind of a day, with science and art and singing and puzzles. Go, me! I'm so pleased with myself that I decide to nap when small one does. Afternoon falls completely to pieces, with big kids needy and less than thrilling, dinner is (say it with me) atrociously late, despite being "eat what you can find night". The night ends with middle child performing some sort of perverse fashion show until almost midnight, desperately searching for an outfit that makes her look neither weird nor emo.

Which of course brings us to the originally scheduled narrative: this morning. After having been up from 5-6am with the small one, whose schedule has been thrown hideously off this week, I check to make sure the bigs are up, and then go back to sleep. Sadly, middle child misses the bus, and since the Man is running late, it falls to me to drive her. I pick up the sleeping toddler (which breaks my number one life rule "never wake a small sleeping child") find my keys, stagger out to the car... notice the garbage hasn't gone out to the curb, insist middle child (who is being quite surly) help me drag it out, race off to the high school. Drop her off 1/2 hour late, make my way back home.

Did you read any mention of coffee in all that? No? That's because no one made coffee, causing me to have to drive to the high school and back without the benefit of caffeine. Isn't that against the law?

Get home to find the dog basically crossing his legs and jumping up and down by the back door, so I thank him for not peeing in the hallway, let him out, and head to the kitchen to make coffee. No sooner have I thrown away the old filter than I hear the dog barking at the top of the driveway!!! I mutter a not so nice word (you'll learn this is a major flaw of mine), snatch small one up and run up to the top of our quite lengthy driveway, nervous that I'm going to have to go all the way down the block, toddler on hip. As I do so, the INDOOR ONLY cat runs out, because he is an ass. (see, there I go again) Dog is at the top of the driveway, blessedly, and when I snarl at him to get inside, he becomes instantly apologetic, bowing and scraping and showing me his belly. ("Yes, you're right, I AM a bad dog! Many apologies! Can't tell you how VERY sorry I am")

On the way back down the long driveway, I manage to scoop the big fluffy cat under my arm, and as I am heading inside, wriggling feline in one arm, squirmy toddler in the other, dog VERY anxious to make amends by constantly flopping at my feet to show me his oh-so-submissive belly, I think...

...yeah, ok, I'll write a blog.