My Voice Is Invisible

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Parenting Today:
I repeat myself using
many decibels

 

Long day. If you are posting Back to School pictures, well, good for you.

It Takes a Village People

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I told my kids, “It’s time to go!”
They refused to get out of the pool.
“But it’s fun to stay at the YMCA!”
Oh, kids. That’s SO not cool.

Note: Tomorrow’s Bad Poem-A-Day is about Pokémon.  Make sure you catch it all.

Two Miles With My Six-year-old

Running Jogging Graph

  1. Start. “Mom, how do you turn this on again?” (I push the Garmin on button) “Thanks, Mom.” Takes off running.
  2. Runs down the street staring at Garmin.
  3. “Mom, has it been one minute yet?”
  4. “Mom, is it over one minute?”
  5. “I’m going to win, but I don’t care because it’s not a race.”
  6. “Mom, I’m thirsty. Let’s buy some water.”
  7. “Where are we going?”
  8. “Ok, the door where I go in every morning to go get in line at the school is the finish line. I think I’m going to win.”
  9. “I’m so thirsty. I need waaaaaaater.”
  10. He wins.
  11. “Can I play on the playground?” (Pause Garmin for 10 minutes.)
  12. “Wait, I forgot my drink! The drinking fountain isn’t working? I’m going to check and see if that’s true.”
  13. “I’m so thirsty.”
  14. “Whose mailbox is this? We should send a letter to Mr. Langdon and tell him he needs to do a drinks drive. My drinks drive will have tables for second grade, and third grade, and kindergarten, and everybody will bring drinks. That way, if anybody is thirsty, they can get a drink at the school. I think it will end on January 2. Let’s send a letter to Mr. Langdon so he gets it on Monday.”
  15. Walking uphill.
  16. New mysterious rule about “stop and stand completely still whenever you see a car” surfaces.
  17. Yelling to hurry up surfaces.
  18. Walking.
  19. “I’m so thirsty.”
  20. Turns onto cul de sac, sprints past me.
  21. He wins again.

It was a good run.

Our Nosleeping Arrangement

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You came into my room last night

           Your body woke you

Clutching the tiny flashlight we gave you

In front with both hands

Braving the journey one door down

 

Body quieted, you climbed into my bed

Mind unsettled

               Unaware of your own thrashing

You pulled the pink blanket up to your nose

               The one I fetched without request

Sank into my sanctuary and

  Breathed in my sleep


As fearless as my tiny Thing Two is, she sometimes needs to borrow some of my brave to get back to sleep.  I wrote this after one of these nights when she uncertainly came in, not knowing what to do, and let me take care of her.  I don’t mind if she steals my sleep.  I’ll sleep later.

If You Give a Mom a Dustrag

This is in no way inspired by my actual table which is only 4 years old.

This is in no way inspired by my actual table which is only 4 years old.

If you give a Mom a dustrag, she’s going to want to clean the windows.
When she cleans the windows, the sun is going to shine on the table.
Mom will see that the table needs a good going over.
She might get carried away, and decide to clean the whole table.
When she’s under the table, she’s going to see the stickers you put there.
While she’s peeling off the stickers, she’s going to notice that the finish on the table is a little worn.
She’ll want to refinish the table, so she’ll need to go to the store.
While Mom is at the store, she’ll buy a refinishing kit, a gallon of milk, something for dinner, and some cookies.
When Mom gets home, she’s going to refinish the table. The table will look so good, Mom will want to redecorate the whole house!
Dad will say no.
By this time, you will be hungry. You will whine to Mom that you need a snack.
Mom will give you a cookie and some milk.
If Mom gives you some milk and a cookie, you will sit at the newly refinished table to eat it.  Chances are…you will spill your milk all over the &^*% place, and Mom will need to find her dustrag.

 

(My hat-tip is to Laura Numeroff for such a signature rhythm.  If you have little people, the “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” series books are very cute and good at bedtime.  Pretty sure Felicia Bond will not be contacting me to illustrate.)

Mommy Is Relaxing … Her Standards

Burning question of the day: Why wasn’t my house always spotless before I had kids? Seriously, there was, in hindsight, no legitimate reason why it couldn’t have been clean all the time. I guess I was just really lazy. And happy. I was lazy, and happy, and I played video games and worked a lot.  Now, when I talk about what I’ve been doing all day, or better yet, what I got DONE, I find that I’m … fudging it a little? What I say…doesn’t seem to mean what I used to think it meant.

“I cleaned the floor.”
Used to mean: I picked up every single thing and vacuumed and mopped the entire house.
Now: I picked up most of the things, and kicked the others around the carpet so I could vacuum. Then I squinted my eyes to simulate an older person who doesn’t see well, and paper towel spot-cleaned anything on the laminate that was glowing green or creating texture.

This is where they live, because they are mine and I clean the floor.  Put yours away.

This is where they live, because they are mine and I clean the floor. Put yours away.

“I cooked dinner.”
Used to mean: I spent at least 45 minutes cooking some spicy, complicated creation from scratch, using every pan and spoon I owned.
Now: We are eating anything besides take and bake pizza.

So, 45 minutes to make the meal, and an hour to wash every dish in the kitchen? *does math, frowns*

So, 45 minutes to make the meal, and an hour to wash every dish in the kitchen? *does math, frowns*

“I did laundry.”
Used to mean: I spent all day Sunday washing and drying all the things, so that I could spend my time watching X-Files, folding the laundry, and putting it away during commercial breaks. Voila! All the clothes clean for Monday morning.
Now: I washed and dried some clothes, many of which are small and annoying to fold. They are sitting on the bed RIGHT NOW. If I can sneak off after dinner, I will fold a few of them, then the rest will get smashed into the giant pile of wrinkles in our bedroom. Sorry, dear.
“I cleaned the bathroom.”
Used to mean: The bathroom was ready for a picnic. You could eat off any surface you desired. Everything was sanitized, shiny, and the end of the toilet paper was folded into a little triangle just to make you feel fancy on the john.
Now: Visible signs of the small people have been hurriedly scrubbed off with a disinfecting wipe, and a flushable brush has been swished around the toilet to remove whatever it will remove. Notice I didn’t mention the tub. That’s what shower curtains are for. If you look, it is your problem—why are you looking in my shower? Weirdo.

Pin This!  Effort-free growth chart for the little ones!  Smear their hands with a different color of sidewalk chalk for each year.

Pin This! Effort-free growth chart for the little ones! Smear their hands with a different color of sidewalk chalk for each year.

“I’m ready to go.”
Used to mean: I’m ready to go, except I need one more thing that I forgot. There, now I’m ready.
Now: I might be ready to go in about 15 minutes, after I get the other 17 things the children *need* to be happy, find the other shoe, tie them into the carseats and then run upstairs and “fix” my hair. That is conditional. If anyone needs to use the potty, flips out over a sibling saying the wrong thing, or comes down with a flash virus, all guarantees, implied or otherwise, are forever cancelled.
“I did the dishes.”
Used to mean: Who are we kidding? I never kept up with the damn dishes. It pretty much means the same exact thing now as it always did: We’re expecting company.

Rigate Regalia

My Macaroni Necklace

I like my macaroni,

Better than a pony.

I don’t have to feed it,

In fact, I can eat it.

 

I have a preschooler, therefore I get all kinds of gifts made of various things that are inexpensive and hard to break.  This was a special “surprise,” and I proudly wore it the entire day.  It has a magical power.  It makes me remember how very small they still are.

17 Ways to Ruin Macaroni and Cheese

Recently, I saw a Facebook post about someone’s otherwise accomplished eight-year-old having trouble making macaroni and cheese.  I was not surprised by this.  After 30 years of making macaroni and cheese, I have issues regularly.  The little people who crash at my house eat the stuff about once a week, and I have become the world’s foremost expert on every way to make it wrong.  There’s a trophy and complimentary tickets to the local Museum of Cat Hoarding for being “foremost.”  I suppose I would rather be “hindmost,” but there’s no consolation prize.  I would always have delicious, non-ruined macaroni and cheese…that’s something, I guess.  If you would like to join me in the quest to be the hindmost, please learn from my mistakes.

  1. Buy the wrong box of macaroni and cheese.  You think they will not know the difference if you slip a batch of store-brand in the cart, and it’s half the price.  Maybe you think that since you’re likely to end up scarfing the leftovers out of the pan as “lunch,” you’re entitled to a fancy flavor like White Cheddar® and you decide that the kids will be “fine with that.”  Maybe you think that they really should be eating more organic foods, so you buy Whole Foods Kobe Macaroni and Brie.  This is not going to go well.  Kids are very brand loyal.  They know what they like, and they don’t want to support competitors.  What if Kraft went out of business because you got all whimsical one day?  WHAT IF THAT HAPPENED?

    Oh, Kroger brand...you are many things, but "Original" isn't one of them.

    Oh, Kroger brand…you are many things, but “Original” isn’t one of them.

  2. Buy the wrong shape of macaroni.  There used to be one shape of macaroni, the tubes of pasta with no ridges.  Period.  Now they are shaped like all kinds of nonsense.  Do you sometimes wish you could bite Dora’s head right in two?  Now you can!  But what if your kids don’t like Dora?  Do you want them seasoning their nutritious meal with their tiny, sad tears?  My kids like Annie’s.  As we are about to discuss, they had a strong preference for a while toward the traditional noodle.  Nothing like making a box of the cheesy, only to have Thing One stare at it and refuse to eat it because it looks like bunnies.
  3. Have the kids contract a violent stomach virus the day of the eating of the macaroni and cheese.  This….is why we couldn’t eat the bunnies for a looooooong time.  Oh.  Wow.  It was really bad.  Cute little bunnies projectile vomited all over the house for an entire day.  I can’t really blame Thing One for not wanting back on that horse right away.  It was the worst stomach virus in many years (I know because I enjoyed it later that day).  Quite enough to put you off your feedbag entirely, let alone the whole day-glo orange bunny thing.
  4. Undercook the macaroni.  *crunch crunch crunch crunch crunch*
  5. Overcook the macaroni.  I cook the macaroni a bit longer than the directions because someone in my house has been teething for the last 4 years.  Cooking it for an extra minute is fine.  Cooking it for an extra 10 minutes because someone had a diaper emergency that was not going to wait is not recommended.  At the point where all the water in the pan has been absorbed into the noodles, you have messed up.  Start over.

    This macaroni is slightly overcooked.

    This macaroni is slightly overcooked.

  6. Dump the macaroni into the sink.  My supercool technique for draining the noodles is to hold the colander above the sinkful of dishes with one hand and pour the scalding, boiling water into the colander with the other hand.  I didn’t see this technique in the colander handbook, so I think I invented it!  Where’s my patent application file?  Anyway, when you pour the boiling water over your hand, suppress the agonized cursing and fling the colander into the sink.  Since there are dirty dishes in the sink (see above), the macaroni will no longer be sanitary.  Start over.
  7. Drain the macaroni poorly.  Yummy.  Mushy noodles swimming in a lake of diluted powdered cheese sauce.  “That cheese flavor is plenty strong.  I think I’ll put a little water in there so it goes further.”  If you had a thrifty mom, you probably drank a lot of orange juice with an extra can of water in it.  That principle works almost as well for cheese sauce.
  8. Use margarine.  Or use butter.  I grew up on mac and cheese with margarine.  My kids eat it with butter.  It tastes WEIRD.  It’s amazing how different this tastes.  If you are used to one thing, the other thing will make the macaroni and cheese taste like it is quite wrong.
  9. Put in too much milk because you didn’t measure it.  I have done this so many times.  Of course I can eyeball it.  Stand back, I’m a professional.  *GLOMP*  Crap.  That is too much milk.  OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH well.
  10. Mix the powdered “cheese” in improperly.  Want an appealing visual presentation?  Imagine if you will, a Mickey Mouse bowl with a pile of slightly overcooked macaroni, and clumps of unmixed powdered cheese product sitting atop it.  Orange, lumpy and DELICIOUS.  I can only imagine what biting into a nugget of gritty, concentrated powdered cheese flavoring is like.  I can only imagine this, because I spend 10 minutes picking out the unmixed bits.  Can’t stand the thought of it.
  11. Scald the milk while trying to melt the butter on the hot burner.  It takes such a dreadfully long time to make macaroni and cheese.  It’s really hard to stir the noodles until the butter melts.  Instead, take the empty pan, throw the butter and milk and cheese powder in, and put it back on the hot burner.  Then, turn around to provide some “gentle direction” to the darling children.  By the time someone is in timeout, the milk will be burnt, and the powdery cheese will have become an amalgam suitable for long term fluorescent dental repairs.
  12. Put things in or on it to make it taste better.  Oh dear.  You sprinkled actual cheese on the macaroni and cheese?  It is a little known fact that you cannot put actual cheese and powdered cheese (anti-cheese) together in the same bowl without dire consequences.  The reaction of cheese and anti-cheese will not only create a potentially explosive situation, but possibly creates a rift in the space-time continuum that turns your simple lunch into a 90-minute ordeal.  Don’t do it.  It ain’t broke.  Don’t fix it.

    No one will appreciate this addition to the plate, coming or going.

    No one will appreciate this addition to the plate, coming or going.

  13. Put things in to make it healthy and/or a “complete” meal.  Did you know tuna can add a kick of nutritious protein to an easy macaroni and cheese meal?  Or that broccoli can give it a vitamin-packed punch?  The kids don’t.  They have no idea.  They don’t care.  No amount of discussion will convince them that a bowl of macaroni and cheese with some sort of strange debris in it is “better” than the original formula.

    Now part of this complete breakfast!

    Now part of this complete breakfast!

  14. Don’t cool it off enough.  “Hey kids!  Here’s a bowl of steaming hot lava ready to sear your tongue to the roof of your mouth!”  This is never a good way to start off lunch.  My kids do this adorable double-take grimace when I burn them with hot, hot food.  Bonus points for metal utensils in order to get both top and bottom of the mouth.  Because of the nastiness of added water, an ice cube is not an option.  I end up either putting it into the refrigerator or blowing on it.  A lot.  I have great lung capacity.  I have sat next to my son and cooled every single spoonful after an initial burning mouthful more than once.
  15. Serve it with the wrong utensil or in the wrong bowl.  The bowl is the bowl is the bowl.  No Mickey bowl?  Make something else, Mom. AND, we eat this with a spoon.  Not with a fork.  We did that yesterday.  We are DONE with that.
    Appropriate Presentation

    Appropriate Presentation

    Inappropriate Presentation

    Inappropriate Presentation

  16. Serve it cold.  At the point where the savages have been satisfied, there may be a scrim of saucy noodles left in the pan.  DO NOT be tempted to eat them at this point, unless you will not have any chance to eat anything else for several hours.  Cold macaroni and cheese is like the undead, zombie version of the stuff.  It still sort of looks like the original, but the life has gone out of it.  The only thing it can remember to do is kill.  Just don’t.
  17. Make it from a recipe, and not from a box.  This is going to be really great, kids.  I am going to spend all afternoon making macaroni and cheese for dinner.  I am going to use four different kinds of cheese.  I am going to make a loaf of bread, and then make bread crumbs out of HOMEMADE bread.  I am going to use corkscrew pasta in order to pick up as much of the delicious cheese sauce as possible.  I am going to bake it in the oven for an hour, then broil those magical bread crumbs and a sprinkle of cheese on top until it looks like it belongs in a magazine.  And you are going to refuse to eat it.  In fact, you probably won’t even try it, because the noodles are the wrong shape, there is cheese on it, and there is no box in sight.

A Nice Idea

Romance

the flameless candles

were a nice idea, I guess

until she ate them

Thing Two (who is no more than two) is the one person in our family who will pop something into her mouth and then ask, “What am I eating?”  CANDLES, honey.  You are eating Mommy’s expensive flameless candles.

PS.  I would love to have you participate with your own bad poetry about my inspiring topic.  I mean, such a moving photo that I took in my house with my iPhone, right?  You can’t resist!

Our Socks Have Had a Rough Summer

I was clearing the lunch dishes the other day (so it was about 4PM), and the sliding glass door off the main floor deck opened. Thing One, a left-handed four-year-old boy with a rather eccentric take on life, poked his pointy head in.

“Mommy. Follow me and I will show you how to wash my socks.”

He was holding in one hand: A filthy, dripping wet sock.

I was instantly intrigued. I have tried many things. His socks are never clean, unless they have not been worn. This is because he likes to take his shoes off, but not his socks. He doesn’t want to get his feet dirty, after all. They would get VERY dirty without socks. This summer, we have decided that socks are just going to be semi-disposable.

This pair is trying to escape

This pair is trying to escape

I followed Thing One and his dripping sock down the stairs to the patio. There he had this:

Nothing works better for scrubbing socks than a bucket full of mud!

Nothing works better for scrubbing socks than a bucket full of mud!

And this:

Daddy's wine decanter brush, because we want to give the filthy sock the best gentle care

Daddy’s wine decanter brush, because we want to give the filthy sock the best gentle care

He then proceeded to dip the filthy sock in the water and scrub at it with the decanter brush. All very reasonable, and completely devoid of soap, but points for trying, right? Next, he handed ME the filthy, muddy sock.

“Use teamwork to wash my socks.”

Despite the fact that this made me want to die laughing, being the Mommy required that I hold the ruined footwear still while he scrubbed at it with the decanter brush, “Like this.” I told him that teamwork is a really good way to get something done, proving that I am taking all of this very seriously. (I want Mommy points for that.)

At this point, the sock looked something like this:

The proof is in the results!

The proof is in the results!

Thing One looked at the sock with no small amount of consternation, handed me the decanter brush, and ran off to do something else. I believe he has a bright future in management consulting.

See you later, sock golems

See you later, sock golems