Torn

Sparky has been hunting a mouse for at least an hour this morning.  I use the term "hunting" loosely, because what he's doing is less like hunting and more like fishing.  He's using the catch and release system, over and over, with the same mouse.  I don't know how this little rodent hasn't died of a heart attack yet.  And, I'm torn.  And now, Natalie Imbruglia is stuck in my head.  God, how I hate mice.

I'm torn because while I'm proud of the cat for earning his keep, I also hate to see the mouse suffer.  Actually, that's not true.  My wife hates to see the mouse suffer.  I just wish he'd kill the thing and get it over with so I could pick it up and throw it in the trash.

But, I'm not going to yell at him and discourage him from doing what he was brought into this house to do.  As much as it would break my kids' hearts to hear it, Sparky wasn't brought home for their enjoyment.  He's here to kill mice.  Kill 'em dead.

I can't punish him for taking a little pleasure in his work can I?  I can tell that Rachel wants me to finish him, but this isn't Mortal Kombat and there's a code between assassins.  "Nothing is true, everything is permitted."  So, rather than grab my hammer and stop this nonsense, I'll permit Sparky his little indulgences.

Note To Self #2

Note To Self:

Never trust a toddler playing quietly.

Also, Magic Eraser does not work on hands...or legs...or other areas of the body that are exposed when your child walks up the basement stairs with her diaper off and a blue magic marker in her hand.

Don't forget to buy more magic markers. She seems to like them.

Bonding:Like Glue On A Wound

There is a special bond between Elizabeth and myself.  We do everything together.  We eat the same foods, we watch football together, and we even go to the hospital together.

The results of a recent MRI led to an even more recent surgical procedure--namely, spinal surgery (that's totally metal).  The night before my surgery, Libby was feeling sympathetic.  Rather than just share in my emotional pain, she shared in my physical pain.  One badly placed footstep and a well-placed chin later, she was in the hospital emergency room getting her own little surgery.

When I say surgery, what I really mean is that they super-glued her wound shut.  Two-hundred and fifty dollars for them to glue her chin.  I certainly appreciate the ER nurses and their ability to keep my baby from bleeding out, but a quarter of a thousand dollars sounds pretty steep for a glue-job.  Lesson learned.  I've a 97-cent bottle of Elmer's and some Duct-Tape I'll try next time.

The price seems more ridiculous when you consider that my spinal surgery cost us a little over 700 dollars.  That's the difference between In-Network and Out-of-Network.  Not to worry though, the Affordable Care Act will make everything more affordable.  It's in the name, it can't fail right?  On the plus side, for a little under 1,000 dollars we both received some cool scars and matching bracelets.

I also scored this sweet pair of socks with a built-in sunroof.

Even though my back still hurts, my foot is still asleep, and we'll have bills to pay over the next several months, it was worth it.  #LiesITellMyself

Sure, we could have gone fishing together, toured the pumpkin patch, or gone out for ice cream, but you can't put a price on this type of bonding experience.  Just look at the joy and love on Libby's face:

Note To Self #1

Games are a fun way to start the morning.

Seven in the morning is too early to call somebody “cheater cheater pumpkin eater.”

You can coax a crying (and sore-losing) 4-year old out of her room with donuts.

If you offer donuts to a crying child, make sure you have milk to wash them down with.

Buy milk.

Purple Haze

Painting is never a fun job.  The finished project is usually amazing, but the end result is seldom enough to motivate me to actually begin painting.  We've been staring at the same two colors for five years now.  I know that's not too long of a time, but it gets old.  When we built the house in '07, our contractor allowed us two colors to choose from.  Not knowing what our decor would be, we settled for two neutral colors--both of them a tan-beige.  It's quite depressing.

Slowly, we've begun working our way through the house, painting a room here and there.  The girls' room is our crowning achievement so far.   I wanted to take some pictures and post them before Libby had a chance to ruin it.  I love her, but she knows how to destroy everything you've worked so hard for and we've worked hard on her room.

Rachel did an amazing job creating the girls' names.  I cut out the fabric for the letters, so feel free to tell me what an awesome job I did too.  Thanks to Aunt Tracy for Elizabeth's butterfly mobile.  It was a baby gift for Libby, but the theme works great with her new room.

The beauty was shortly ruined two days later when Elizabeth did some painting of her own. I'll spare you the pictures, but you must know, it looked like a crime scene with blood all over the walls, doors, furniture and toys.....that is, if the victim bled brown.

There is one good thing to say about painting or, at least, about painting with purple.  Hendrix was stuck in my head during the four to five hours we painted.

He's Crafty

Last year, the kids and I worked through a bunch of Halloween craft ideas we'd found.  I have a lot of Halloween crafts to do this year courtesy of Pinterest, the local library, and Chad (thanks dude).  SPOILER ALERT:  Shameless Plug on the way!

Rather than post them here, I'll be featuring them on my educational website, www.free-math-handwriting-and-reading-worksheets.com.  I'll be posting Halloween coloring pages, activities, crafts, and more.  You can check out all the Halloween Craft Ideas here.

With that said, I'd still like to post one simple idea that I tried yesterday:  Monster Drinks.

No, not those monster drinks.  Energy in a can is the last thing my kids need.  These monster drinks:

A little Sunny D and Kiwi juice, construction paper, and craftiness goes a long way. But what did the kids think?

I think she liked it.

The boy is usually a tough sell though.

Usually.

21 and Counting

I think every parent has a picture of their kid holding a beer can.  After all, they're the reason you drink.

World War Zzzzzz....

I remember spending an evening with my grandparents when Mom and Dad would go out for an anniversary, birthday, or just a night out.  My grandparents were responsible for some of my most memorable moments.  You could get away with things at Grandma's that you just couldn't at home.  We made triple-decker sandwiches, built tents out of the couch cushions, and best of all, we put ice-cream on our Tostino's Party Pizzas.

  I went through a Ninja Turtle phase. If you don't understand, then I'm sorry your childhood sucked.

Fat chance doing any of that stuff at home.  I remember thinking how lame my parents' nights out were.  They just went out for dinner and came back.

LAME.

Then I had kids.  Now I realize how special a dinner sans kids is.  It's the little things that make a night out so memorable.  Little things like being able to eat a steak dinner on a place-mat that doesn't double as a maze/word-search/coloring book.   Or, not having to ask the waiter if they have both chocolate and whole milk.  Or, being able to complain about how loud other parents' kids are.  Or, not having to negotiate with my fellow diners over how many more bites they need to take.

  Okay, so I actually enjoy doing the word searches. Caleb always beats me to the mazes.

When it came time to take Rachel out for her birthday I knew a nice dinner without kids would be well appreciated.  What I didn't expect was what she wanted to do after.  Having polished off our steak and drinks (our table actually had a tablecloth on it!) we headed to the car.  "What do you want to do now?", I asked.  "I don't know.  Let's head home."

If I was telling this story at the gym, that's where I'd quit talking.  But I'm not at the gym (not now or ever really) so let's keep it real.  On the way home we stopped by Redbox and picked up World War Z.  And, since this was supposed to be a "Date Night", we made it official by stopping by Wal-Mart on the way home and picking up some groceries.  When we arrived home, Rach offered me a couple of choices.  I suggested a third:

With my bright idea eliminated that left us with the two things she really wanted to do:

1.  Watch a movie

2. Take a nap

Yes, our big night out was going to end with us either taking a nap or watching a movie on the couch, which would, most likely, result in at least one of us taking a nap.  Now I understand my parents' lameness all those years ago.  The joy of watching a movie without hundreds of interruptions (for something to drink, something to eat, somebody hit me, I pooped on the carpet) can only be surpassed by the greater joy of taking a nap in a quiet house.  Let's pop that movie in and fall asleep.

She's Lump

I've been working at my computer for an hour.  The girls have been sitting on the couch nearby watching television.  I walk upstairs to start picking up the house--a routine that always begins with making our bed.  Then I hear footsteps.  (sigh)

  No, not that kind of sigh.

  Yep, that's the kind.

 There's this game we play. Actually, the kids play it while i feign interest.  It's called "Lump" and it's been going on for almost five years now.  It all started with the boy when he was around 2 1/2 or 3 years of age.  I'd make the bed and he would climb up underneath the sheets.  I'd  ask, "Where's Caleb?", then I would lay down on the bed (and him) and comment on how lumpy the bed was.  He'd start giggling and wiggling free, then he'd pop out and say, "Here I Am";  we'd laugh.  It was our thing and it was cute...

...for a while.  Then it just became another hurdle to getting my housework done.  That's when you have to step back and chill.  What's more important:  making the bed or playing with your child?  The aging parent in me says, "playing with your child", while the task-oriented alpha-male in me says, "get off that bed, I have important work here."

  Hey, I'm walking working here!

Caleb has since outgrown this game, but the girls have taken the torch from him and are running with it.  Two lumps are more annoying than one.  It's possible that I'll miss this one day, so for now, I'll stay calm and play the game.  Besides, Lee doesn't respond well when I refuse to play.

Another reason I dislike this game: The Presidents get stuck in my head every time we play.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Enjoy!!!

The Perfect Drug

We just had the boy's Parent-Teacher Conference last week--a wake-up call that we've expected for some time now.  While PTC may sound like the latest street-drug, it is not.  I can assure you that the effects are similar.  Both give you a euphoric high at the beginning, but when it's all said and done, the crash leaves you depressed.  We've always had high hopes going in to Caleb's conferences and this time was no different.

It started out good; he's doing well in school, gets along with others, and hates math.  He's a normal 7-year old.  But then the teacher went over her concerns.  We've had four years of PTCs under our belt going in to this session so we knew what was coming next.  Quirky Behavior.  Stemming.  Horrific Fine Motor Skills.  It's his ADHD Trifecta.

 If only his handwriting was that neat.

We've heard it before and we've hoped that some of it could be attributed to phases (much of it has), but the latest PTC was the perfect drug to wake us up.  We always said that we would avoid the labels and medication as long as the behaviors didn't interfere with school.  They are.  There are some behaviors that may not just "phase themselves out" and it's time to get serious.

Talk of medication and gluten-free diets is in the air.  I don't know what gluten is, but I imagine it's what makes food taste delicious.  Any time a dietician recommends eliminating something from your diet, you can bet it's something tasty.  It's hard enough to get the kids to eat already, I can't create a new menu based on restrictive food and expect to have the kids eat it, can I?

Thus begins the developmental pediatrician visits, dietician appointments, and the occupational therapy.    On the plus side, the time I spend grocery shopping should be cut down exponentially considering that all of my purchases will come from one tiny section of the store dedicated to gluten-free products.  So, while we wait for doctor appointments and some much-needed guidance, we'll just sit back and embrace the quirkiness.