Little Miss Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

Ella has been dying to plant a garden for months now. I have no idea where she came up with the idea, but every day this past winter she carried her little green garden shovel out back to dig in the dirt patch next to our patio. So far she's planted everything from loose pocket change to a handful of dry-roasted sunflower seeds she found in my pantry. She is NOT pleased with the results. But rather than explain to her that money doesn't actually grow in gardens (or on trees, for that matter), I decided that maybe it's time to try vegetables.

Now, don't worry - I know you're thinking that I don't have the time to keep up with a garden, and I totally agree. I'm not at all optimistic about this endeavor. Generally speaking, my house is where plants go to die, as many a green-thumbed family member can attest. I've killed virtually every un-killable plant out there without so much as lifting a finger. Or a watering can, as the case may be. (Although I won't take responsibility for the pansies - the bunnies got those.) But a garden seems so important to my sweet girl. Plus, it occurs to me that she might actually eat a vegetable or two if it comes from her own backyard.

Or not.

Regardless, after much deliberation and many, many, many hours spent in the Home Depot Landscaping department, Ella and I finally planted a real garden. As expected, my little girl got pretty into it. She took one look at my gardening hat and gloves, and raced off to find her own set of accessories:

(Something got lost in translation... Yes, that is a winter hat and gloves. And yes, it was HOT.)

But somehow - after several hours of burying an assortment of teeny, tiny little seeds that I may very well never see again - we got our vegetable garden planted. And watered. Ella was so excited. In fact, she couldn't wait to get home from school the next day.

"Mommy, Mommy, I want to go see my garden! Can I? Can I?!?"

We walked to the backyard to gaze out over the little plot of land which, to my untrained eye, looked fine. Ella disagreed. She put a hand on her hip, shook her little head, and sighed.

"It doesn't look good, Mom."

"Oh Sweetie! Sure it does! It's going to take some time, you know, but pretty soon we're going to have lots of yummy tomatoes and zucchini and green beans to eat." We just have to remember to water them...

Ella sighed again and replied, in her most earnest tone, "I sure wish we could plant cookies instead."

That girl is a kid after my own heart. I bet you don't even have to water a cookie garden. Just a little milk now and then, and you've got yourself a bountiful harvest.

But no, we had to plant vegetables. And darned if I don't have to go water them. AGAIN.

April Showers

I started locking my bathroom door this week in what turned out to be a failed attempt at modesty. True, I'm accustomed to the applause of my children ("Good job, Mommy. You washed your hair!"). But the girls are getting older now, and after four years of showering with an audience, I thought it was time to shut the theater doors. Ella, ever her independant and opinionated self, disagreed. When the phone rang that first private morning, she picked the lock on the bathroom door, and marched in, telephone in hand.

"Mommy, are you washing your hair?"

"Ella, how did you get in here?!?!"

"Daddy's on the phone. Are you washing your hair?"

"YES! Now give Mommy the phone and go back outside!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying to be modest."

"Why?"

"Because showers are supposed to be private."

"Why?"

"JUST GIVE ME THE PHONE AND GO BACK OUTSIDE!"

She passed me the phone, and strolled slowly out the door just as Ty toddled in. Great. I gave the hubby a quick, "I'm-in-the-shower-I'll-call-you-back!" and tossed the phone on the floor. Meanwhile, Ty entertained himself with his second-favorite bathroom game: turning the bathtub knobs. He loves to turn them back and forth because he gets a kick out of learning how things work - and I get a kick out of surviving the intermittent flow of scalding hot and freezing cold water. He quit after a couple of minutes (but left the hot water running full blast, ensuring a VERY cold shower) and crawled over to play his first-favorite bathroom game: open the box and chew on a tampon.

Yep. You read that right. My kid is going to be in therapy for years. And not because he once chewed on a tampon like it was a cigar, but because I LET him chew on it... every morning.

Luckily, Evie walked in just as I was finishing up and took the offending feminine product away from my baby boy. Emily, right behind her, handed me a towel as I stepped out of the shower.

"You all done in the shower, Mommy? You all clean? Good job, Mommy!"

Well, I always did enjoy an audience.

My Very First Not-Me! Monday

I know, I know. I am SO behind the times. I mean, everybody in blog land knows about Not Me! Monday, and yet here I am posting only my first Not-Me! Monday confession. I'd like to say that it's because I've had nothing to confess prior to today, but let's face it - I don't want to be struck down by lightening. So instead I'll just say "better late than never," and "here goes." (And by the way, in case you've been living under a blog rock and you have no clue what I'm talking about, just read on. You'll get the gist!)

Here it is - my very first Not-Me! Monday confession:


I did not scratch my eyeball at the doctor's office today while playing Peek-a-Boo with my 16 month old son. I am thirty-three years old, for crying out loud! No thirty-three year old woman is so athletically challenged as to poke her own eye while shouting "peek-a-boo" in the middle of a crowded waiting room. No, that definitely wasn't me sitting in a chair with tears streaming down my face while my son turned away in embarrassment.



I did not collect all of the DVD's in my children's movie collection, and throw them into a big, plastic garbage bag while the kids looked on in horror. I would never threaten to throw away their beloved videos, even if they were throwing the fit of the century over which Baby Einstein video to watch this afternoon. That would just be traumatic... and result in years of expensive therapy.

I did not allow my children to put on their galoshes and go splash in the back-yard puddles after a rainstorm because they were driving me slap crazy. And I did not laugh when Evie did a "Slip 'n Slide" move down a particularly slippery patch of lawn. And I would certainly never run and get my camera in order to snap off a picture of my daughter, who was clearly devastated by her fall. That would just be mean.

I did not give my son a handful of Teddy Grahams that I found on the floor of my car today. Who knows how old those things are? That would be so disgusting. Good thing I just let him cry it out.

I do not have FOUR unfinished blog posts sitting in my in-box, just waiting to be completed. I do not have writer's block, despite the daily inspiration I get from my children. I am choosing, instead, to use my valuable time for other things - like mopping my kitchen floor. And that being said, I did not drop an entire tray of food all over that clean kitchen floor mere hours after scrubbing it. That would just be maddening. It might even take a person to the brink of insanity. Good thing that didn't happen to me!

******************

All kidding aside, though, I wanted to post this blog as a tribute to MckMamma and Stellan, the original Not Me! Monday blogger and her sweet baby boy whose picture you'll find on the right side of my blog. Little Stellan will be having heart surgery at a Boston hospital tomorrow (Tuesday)at 8:30 in the morning. Please join me in praying for this child, his parents, and his extended family, as well as for the doctors who will be working on little Stellan's heart.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Housekeeping

I HATE housekeeping. Even as I'm writing the words, I feel compelled to confess that it is 4:00 in the afternoon, my hubby will be home soon, two of the four children are screaming in the play room, and our breakfast dishes are still on the table. That being said, this is a "housekeeping blog": I'm cleaning up the mess I've made, and I'm adding a few new elements!

First of all, for those you keeping track I did not make my goal of posting blogs twice a week until my birthday. I'm afraid that day has come and gone, and I've only managed the occasional weekly posting. Oh well, what can I say? I can't even get the breakfast dishes off my table, so I probably shouldn't have set my expectations so high. (More about that later...) But my plain white "Minima" template was depressing, so as a compromise I downloaded a free Cutest Blog on the Block background. Hope you like it! The jury is still out for me, but I figure it's a start in the right direction.

Second, you probably noticed the Praying for Stellan button I added on the right side of this page. I'm sure that most of you are already familiar with this sweet child's story, but for those of you who aren't, I want you take a moment to meet 5 month old Stellan. I have been reading his mother's blog for months at mycharmingkids.net (which you'll notice I just added to my reading list on the right). She is also a mother of four young children, so I feel a special bond with this mom, whose youngest child Stellan was recently hospitalized for a very serious heart condition. If you feel so led, please check out her site and say a prayer for this little guy. I know his mom would appreciate it.

Third, in answer to the high demand following my last post, here are a couple of before and after pics from last weekend's hair massacre:

This is a picture of Emily just prior to her professional cut. You can't really tell how bad it is from the picture, but essentially the whole left, front side of her hair is gone. Miss Kim couldn't do much with that side. Even with her new haircut, it will take a few months for both sides to be even. But hey, the asymmetrical thing is back, right?

And here's a picture of the twins at today's pre-school Easter party. Short hair wasn't a part of my summer plans, but I think it turned out really cute! (See what I mean about Emily's hair being shorter on the left, though?) A friend advised me to stick a big bow on each of their heads and go for it - and I think I will!

Finally, I have to tell you that I've spent the last month gathering PLENTY of blog material. (Translation: Wow, my kids have been bad lately.) I'm dying to get it all down in writing: 1) because I really need the practice, and 2) because I want to have something to show for all those bad days! However, I'm doing calligraphy on 140 wedding invitations, and I owe a friend the four drapery panels I've been promising her for months. I hoping to be around, but if I'm not, I just wanted you all to know that I still love writing and will continue to plug along as time (hahahahahahahahaha) permits.

In the meantime, if you need a good laugh, this is how Emily looked when we went shopping for shoes yesterday:

Thanks for reading!!!

You'd Think I'd Know These Things By Now...

I've got four children under the age of five. You'd think I'd of learned a lot of things about pre-school kids by now. You'd think that I'd be one of those moms who is well-qualified to give advice to other young mothers knee-deep in the trenches of child rearing. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong. Apparently, I was not aware of the following:

1. Hard to believe it, but young children and scissors don't mix.

Ella is a smart, athletic little girl. She's just not very good at cutting with scissors. I learned this last year when she came home from pre-school with her first report card. Next to "Cuts with scissors" was a big, red "NI" and a note scrawled out by her teacher: "Please be sure to work on this skill with Ella at home."

Of course, I was mortified. I'd just assumed that my talented little three-year old would come home with a report card full of "S's". I dashed to the store that afternoon, and purchased a pair of red-handled, blunt-tipped scissors for my little dunce to practice with. And I was relieved when, days later, she'd covered the play room floor with confetti. Eventually, she even learned how to cut along a straight, jagged line. Since then, cutting up paper has remained a part of her daily routine; it never occurred to me to keep those dull little scissors anyplace other than her room.

Until this morning.

When Ella's imagination blossomed.

And she imagined herself as a stylist in her own hair salon.

You know where this is going...

I could have dealt with the two scalped Barbie dolls lying face-down on the floor. I probably could have even dealt with the bangs Ella cut for herself. But the giant chunks of hair sliced from Evie's scalp was more than I could bear. And the pony tail severed from Emily's finally-full head of hair? Well, that just sent me right over the edge. Especially since my mom and I just taught ourselves how to make hair-bows, and have invested a hefty bit of capital into clips, wire, ribbons, and glue.

What am I going to do with 200 yards of pink grosgrain ribbon?

2. Toddlers can access child-proofed cabinets. But their job is so much easier when mom forgets to attach those annoying little plastic latches.

Latching my cabinets has been on my list of things to do since...well, since before Ty was born. But a few weeks ago, he took advantage of my negligence when he found the only two cabinets in my kitchen that aren't currently "baby-proofed". (Which, by the way, is a misnomer if ever there was one!) The first place he discovered was my Pyrex cabinet. He managed to break 3 of my 4 blue glass mixing bowls. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but he didn't break all three on the same day. Shame on me, I suppose, for thinking a 14-month old can learn from his mistakes. And praise God for saving my baby's precious little mouth, from which I pried one very large piece of broken Pyrex.

For some reason it didn't occur to me that I'd left a second cabinet unprotected, but Ty discovered the kitchen garbage can only a few days later. Luckily, it wasn't glass I had to pry from his mouth this time. It was a stale, week-old brownie. Gag.

This, by the way, from a child who won't eat table food. Go figure.

3. Home decor stores are not conducive to groups of young children.

Last month the winter blahs kicked in, and I took it out on the house. I tried to change things around myself, but I eventually gave up and dragged my talented neighbor/decorator over for a "designer remix" session. She had some awesome ideas, but as we rearranged my stuff, it soon became clear than I needed more... well, stuff. I was really in the groove and didn't want to stop short on my little home makeover, so I suggested we toss my four kids and her one baby into the mini-van for my bi-weekly Hobby Lobby pilgrimage.

I can't even claim that it seemed like a good idea at the time. It didn't. I was just really determined.

Actually, things weren't too bad at first. We walked into the store with two fully-loaded carts, and handed each kid a butterfly wand from a handy display to look at - which they enjoyed until Ella figured out it could be used as a weapon. The butterflies were quietly confiscated, and things improved for a few minutes... until I pulled an urn down from a high shelf and flipped it over to check the price. The top of the urn went flying and shattered on the tile floor right next to the check-out line.

Who puts a price tag on the bottom of a two-piece ceramic urn?

The sound of breaking pottery rang out like the shot of a starting pistol. Within moments, it was pure chaos. The twins started bickering over a box of colored tape measures, while Ella took off with her little basket to collect items from the candy shelf. While we were breaking up the fight and chasing Ella, one of the babies dumped his container of Veggie Puffs on the floor. We put the twins to work picking up the puffy snack just as Ella ripped open a bag of M&M's. The candy went flying. Emily and Evie abandoned their clean-up duty and started wrestling each other for the chocolate treats, while Ella cried and shouted, "Those are miiiiiiiinnne!" Jackie and I looked at the shards of broken pottery, the strewn Veggie Puffs, the colored candy, and the crying kids, and decided it was time to abort. I quickly paid for the few items I'd gathered, including an urn, and ran to the car. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure I heard a few people say, "Thank God!" as we headed out.

Sigh.

Why can't people be more patient with me? It's not like I know better. I'm too busy making hairbows.

Torture

I'm not really into politics. I should be, because I care deeply about my community and nation. But the way I see it, my husband is politically active enough for both of us. Considering how wound up [i.e. - LOUD] he gets after watching the first five minutes of The O'Reilly Factor each night, I just don't think our house can handle another vocal activist.


I'm not completely out of the loop, though. We obviously have Internet access, so I get a good 30-45 seconds a day to skim the Yahoo! headlines while waiting for my e-mail account to pop up. This seems to be all the time I need, because I know enough to give you the name of our new president, and tell you that yes, we are still involved in a war on terror. I also picked up something the other day about shutting down Gitmo, but I didn't catch all the details. Ann Taylor Loft was having a sale.


I wish I had read up on the story, though, because it occurred to me later that I might actually have a solution to that whole Guantanamo Bay situation: draft the mothers of small children. Only we mothers of small children know how to torture people without leaving a mark. We do it every time we take our small children out in public. The military could refer to us as MSC's and let us wear uniforms of... oh, I don't know... Army-issued camo sweat pants and baggy, over sized t-shirts. The MSC's could handle torturing - er, soliciting information from - suspected terrorists. I'm betting that with our interrogation tactics, the war would be over in no time.


Personally, I'm surprised that I haven't been called into duty yet. After all, I not only take my children out in public regularly, but I'm apparently quite effective at torturing my own four pre-schoolers. My children are constantly shrieking about the various methods I use. After observing their reactions during the past few days, I've actually come up with a list of five particularly effective techniques that I'm thinking the military may want to consider implementing:


1. Turn the water on

No, I'm not talking about water boarding. I'm talking about running water somewhere in the vicinity of hydro-phobic children. This makes the greatest impression on my youngest daughter Evie, who is terrified of running water. Not standing water, mind you. Bath tubs, swimming pools, muddy puddles, and murky ponds are all great fun. But put her in the bathroom while actually filling the tub? Better have your ear plugs ready. These days, in the interest of her security and my ear drums, I pre-fill the bathtub while she is tucked safely away in her bedroom.

2. Use "germy juice"

I didn't realize before last week that the use antibacterial gel (otherwise known as "germy juice") could produce such a catastrophic response in small children. It can. And it did. I won't be able to show my face at the park again for a long, long time.

3. Play the wrong CD

Nothing freaks my kids out more than when they ask me to play a CD, and I inadvertently play the wrong one. Granted, their requests are specific: "Play the blue one." "Play Emily's CD." "Put the Veggie Tales music on." I suppose I should be able to get it right, but it's confusing for a distracted MSC like me, considering we now own 6 Veggie Tales CD's. But trust me - unless you're trying to get the kids' attention, listen carefully and get it right the first time.


4. Let them ride on the carousel and then say "no" to ice cream


OK, this probably seems pretty specific. I'm not really sure how it would translate for a group of suspected terrorists, but I can assure you that it works on my kids. Yesterday, I took all four to the mall in cruel attempt to have fun. After devouring a lunch of all french fries and no chicken or fruit, the girls took turns alternately begging to ride on the merry-go-round and stop by the cookie stand. It seemed like a good idea at the time: I asked them to choose one or the other. The carousel won out. Six dollars and 25 dizzying turns later, we stumbled our way out of the Food Court only to pass a cleverly located ice cream stand. My girls are smart. They had agreed to surrender their cookies in exchange for a ride. But I never said they couldn't have ice cream. It took 20 minutes and two adults to drag four screaming children out to the car. Yes, it was torture. I'm just not sure who suffered more...


5. Leave the room

It's the classic method that all MSC's learn early in training: Walk out of the room - whether for 5 seconds or 5 hours - and your child will scream loud and long. Pure torture for them and for any unfortunate soul stuck in the room with your screaming kid. But not for you, because you're not in the room. I like this method best.

In fact, it occurs to me that #5 is the only technique in which the MSC actually comes out of the interrogation unscathed. I should remember this in the event I ever get called into service by my country: Bring the kids. Leave the room. The Army will get its information in no time.

Highlights From a Preschool Valentine Party

"Just a reminder that our preschool party is coming up on Friday, February 13th! Emily and Evie's mom is our coordinator for this event, and will be contacting you shortly."

I am? I will?

Wait, that's next week. Yikes.

"Hi, everybody. This is Emily and Evie's mom. Thanks for signing up to help with this week's party. Sorry it took me so long to contact you. Here's what I'm thinking we'll do: 1) serve a healthy snack of fruit, cheese, and crackers; 2) let the kids decorate a Valentine cookie during craft time; 3) set up a Valentine beanbag toss for game time."

Wouldn't it be fun to make a beanbag toss? Dad could build it, I could paint it, and then I could make Valentine beanbags for the kids to play with and then take home!

Ty, I know this is the sixth store I've dragged you into on this bitterly cold day, but Mommy needs you to hang in there, buddy. We still have to buy plates, cups, a tablecloth, Valentine fabric, and sprinkles. And I want to make sure that everything coordinates with my candy heart - inspired theme.

Thanks for building that beanbag toss, Dad. It looks awesome. Don't worry about painting it, though. I can totally take care of that.

I'VE GOT TO PAINT THAT THING BY TOMORROW!

The red paint I used on the kitchen isn't quite the shade of red I had in mind for the beanbag toss, but can I justify buying a new can of paint?

Never mind, I don't have time anyway.

Hey Nana, thanks for coming over today. Um, I know you need to leave in a few minutes, but before you go, can you help me whip up some bean bags for tomorrow's party?

Did I need to buy 20 lbs. of rice to fill 12 beanbags?

These beanbags don't look the way I thought they would. Maybe I should redo them. What do you think, Nana? Nana??? Nana, are you okay? You look a little pale. Hey by the way, I don't think I like the beanbag toss being just plain red. Don't you think it needs some embellishment?

Okay, bye Nana!

No girls, you may NOT use Mommy's paint right now. Go outside and play. Mommy is painting embellishments on this beanbag toss. I'm doing this for your party, you know.

No, I don't have time to push you on the swings! Leave me alone!!!

Ella, I thought you were going to help me make a gift for your teacher tomorrow. Why aren't you unwrapping those Hershey kisses faster?

Yes, Ella, you may eat the pieces of chocolate that fall off.

Ella, stop breaking chocolate off every piece of candy. Do you think other sweatshop kids get to eat chocolate?

Never mind.

These teacher gifts don't look right. Something funny happened with the chocolate. Maybe I should try making another batch.

It's okay to give the teacher ugly and somewhat suspicious-looking chocolate treats for Valentine's Day, right? I mean, they teach preschoolers. They probably expect ugly and somewhat suspicious gifts. Besides, I've got to get to bed.

Did I forget to set the alarm???

We're late we're late we're late we're late we're late...

You know, after I drop the girls off, I should run by the grocery store for some balloons. I'll have enough time to get there and then back to set up for the party.

Ty, stop pulling on the balloons. Mommy only bought twelve balloons for twelve kids. We don't want one to...

BAM!

Crap.

I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late...

Hi ladies, sorry I'm late! I guess we'll have to set up the party with the kids in the room, since recess is already over.

OK kids, let's eat our healthy, yummy snack before we decorate the cookies!

Never mind kids, you don't have to eat your snack first. Let's just go ahead and decorate the cookies.

Oh wow! Look at that beautiful cookie you decorated. I had no idea you could fit a whole jar of red sprinkles on top of one cookie, but I guess you can.

I should have bought more sprinkles.

Look at me, Evie. I want to get a cute picture of you at your Valentine's party!

Forget it.

Oh, is it time for the game already? OK kids, are you ready to play a game? Everybody get a beanbag and make a line.

Let's get in a line.

Can we get in a line?

Well, that's a good idea. We can just all throw our beanbags at the same time.

This is chaos.

Is that Ty crying? Oh, I didn't realize he was standing up in that chair. Did he hit his head? No, that bruise was already there from when he fell down the stairs yesterday.

The party's over? I guess I need to run down and pick Ella up from class.

Your class had a chocolate fondue!?!

Yes, I see the chocolate all over the front of your new outfit.

Where are my keys?

Where are my KEYS???

Are you girls going to cry the whole way home from school?

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...

Sigh.

Happy Valentine's Day!