The Sounds We Hear

They bound off the bus and over to me.  The boys still fall into me as I give them hugs and plant kisses on their tousled little boys heads.  When will that end?  I wonder when will they feel too big to hug me in front of their friends…

They run all the way home…can’t slow these boys down. 

I made brownies this afternoon…the boys cannot sit still while they eat them.  Wiggling.  Kicking their feet.  Bobbing their heads.  Giggling.  I don’t understand the need for constant motion.  But now and then I like it.  Right now, I like it. 

The house is quiet.  The normal sounds…

the washing machine…

the children playing football in the basement (even though they know they’re not allowed to)  Blue 42…

and someone crying because he was playing football in the basement (even though he’s not allowed to) and ran into a wall…

Ella, taking out all of our cups and spoons for tea…

footsteps thumping up and down the stairs and through the house on hardwood floors that echo more than I ever would have imagined possible…

Ella screeching because someone took away the DS (that she’s not allowed to play with)…

little boy whispers about spying…

and complaints from little girls about little boys who are spying on them…

and laughter.  There is a lot of laughter, too. 

Those normal sounds are hushed. 

I hear instead the dreams of a little boy.  Remember when we dreamed of what we would be? 

William says

Hey Mom…  This is what I’m going to do.  I’m going to retire from football when I’m 38 and then I’m gonna be a secret agent.

Then he slips on his secret agent sunglasses (which remind me strangely of a pair that I had when I was about 15), gives me a hug, and sits down to do his homework. 

So I write, while he writes.  And I answer questions like “Hey Mom, how do you spell nocturnal?”

I hear Henry in the basement playing with his friend.  Ella sleeps upstairs.  And Kate is at Art class. 

This is just how I thought it would be–motherhood.

My life.

I’m So Very Sorry

I just want to take this moment to apologize to the two young ladies who will eventually marry my boys.  Because hunnies, they are never ever ever ever ever ever ever going to master the fine art of putting the lid down.  Nor will they flush consistently.  Nor will they admit it when they’re the one who didn’t flush. 

Seriously, I will walk into the bathroom and the lid will be up and the water will be, um, not colorless, and no one will admit to being the one that did it.  Either that or they’ll blame each other. 

Did I mention the time I caught them “yellowing the water” together?  This was quite some time ago.  I 86′d that behavior.  But that’s normal behavior, right?  I mean for boys, that’s normal, right?  Anyone?   

Oh, and Ella drew a picture of poo, isn’t that nice?  I don’t know where she came up with that idea.  Truly.  Not one of the other children has ever drawn poo.  At least not that I can remember anyway. 

I swear we are civilized.  I swear it.  I have the pretty smelling soaps and fresh towels and I make them wash their hands.  I even put product in their hair.  And I made snickerdoodles today.  Snickerdoodles are civilized, right?

This is the Fodder.

We are back from the wilderness now.  It wasn’t really all that wild.  More on that later. 

Anyway, we’re back.  And of course, we had t-ball practice today and soccer starts Tuesday and cheering has been going on now for two weeks already and the boys need cleats and uniforms and school shoes and I still had some school supplies to buy.  And I noticed while I was packing for the wilderness that Henry really had very few decent shirts to wear for school so we had to get a few of those, too.  

Have you ever shopped with two little boys?  Mm-hmm. 

It was only slightly frustrating, to be honest.

Let me just share some of the comments I overheard:

***

William:  “Hey Henry, what if you tooted on Santa’s lap?!”  chuckles and snorts and guffaws.

***

Henry:  “Hey William, hold my finger.”

William:  “No Henry, I know what you’re going to do.”

Henry:  “Hey Mom, hold my finger.  I promise I’m not going to toot.  I’m just going to pretend to.”

***

Henry:  “Whoa, I just did a tooter.”  More chuckles.  More snorts, more guffaws. 

 

Can I just ask, what is it with the tooters?  

I live with small, insane people.  This is the fodder.

______________________________________________________

All Boy

William.

I love this boy.  I love that he is all boy.   I love that he drinks from a hose.  Even though that is gross. 

__________________________________

Visit 5 minutes for mom for more wordless wednesday photos.

__________________________________

Sunshine, Sandcastles, Ice Cream, Laughter

It was a ten hour drive to the beach.   A Ten.Hour.Drive. 

That was sucky. 

And as we entered the Outer Banks, mother nature blessed us with a downpour.  Wind.  Torrential rains.  

So to recap:  trapped in car for ten hours;  rain. 

Then we arrived at the house.  We let the kids run around for an hour and then tucked them snuggly in their beds.  Luckily, we brought the pack-n-play for Ella, because the crib that was supplied was not assembled.  Isn’t that useful?  So I layed Ella in the pack-n-play, and closed the door.  Fifteen seconds later I could hear her screaming at the door.  Because she just climbed right on out of that pack-n-play.  The pack-n-play was also, clearly, very useful.   

So she slept in the bed with me that night.  And to be honest, I’m rather thankful for that crib being disassembled that night.  Sleeping with that little redheaded cherub by my side was not really restful.  But lying there watching her sleep and feeling her curled up next to me was nothing short of wonderful.   

I awoke to the sound of that little girl, two inches from my face, saying “Mommy.  Hi.”  She makes my heart come all undone…      

Then The Man put the crib together. 

And it rained some more.  And was cloudy.

But on the third day, the clouds parted and the sun fell on our faces and warmed the sand.  We did very little but play all day.  And eat ice cream.  All week. 

(Look at his round belly…he’s just all sorts of cute…)

This week was sun-bleached hair, freckles, pink shoulders and pink cheeks. 

And sandy little feet.     

And building sandcastles. (Which William takes very.very.seriously.  Don’t mess with his castles). 

We collected shells.  We chased sandpipers.

 

We played in the surf.

 

We laughed. 

(There may have been a couple tiny little tantrums.  Or something.  But whatever.)

Four little children, drawn to the swirls of foamy surf.  Squealing with delight and fear and anticipation of the sea, crashing on their little feet.    

This past week at the shore reminded me what childhood should consist of…sunshine, sandcastles, ice cream, laughter.  

It was lovely.

____________________________________________________

For Your Reading Pleasure

1.  Last week,  I found shoes under my pillow.  If you’ll remember, The Man and I have a little game going on.  I did not find the shoes to be hilarious.  It’s way funnier when I do it. 

 

2.  I must preface #2 by asking you to recall William’s rules.  Pay particularly close attention to rule #1.  The one that says ”Don’t look at me when I’m getting dressed.”  Right.  So yesterday I got a note from The Man while I was out which stated the following: 

No more Wii for William today.  When I sent the boys upstairs to change, William did a naked dance in front of Henry.

Which totally made me laugh.  I know, I shouldn’t laugh.  Anyway, just to clarify the rules, you are not allowed to look at William while he gets dressed.  Even if he does a naked dance.  

 

3.  I got this super nice award from Daniele at Life As A Mom…thank you Daniele!  The award states:  This award is bestowed on blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to how ever many bloggers you choose and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.

 

I actually had to look up ”self-aggrandizement” to make sure I knew what it meant.  I had a vague sense.  I also had a vague sense of how exceedingly charming I am.    Anyway, what a nice award to receive.   

 

4.  Yesterday the kids found this…

 

 

And The Man wanted to keep it.  I don’t know why.  Because he’s a man I guess.  It’s dead.  It’s in a baggie.  In my house.      

So I took a picture of it.  Because that’s what I do.  Anyway, look how it is preserved for all eternity…in striking position.  You can even see it’s creepy little viper tongue.  In case you were wondering, it is a milk snake (which is not a viper.  But “viper tongue” sounds very snakey).  It’s harmless.  Still gross.  And the deadness doesn’t do anything to lessen the “gross.”  I’m going to put it in Mr. Pink’s mailbox.  Just for fun. 

 

5.  Speaking of whom, Mr. Pink made a nasty comment about my daffodils looking unkempt.  So I spent several hours the other day tying them up into nice neat little bundles.  Now they look very kempt.  You would not believe how long that takes, really.  And I only did about half of them.  When Mr. Pink saw my handi-work, he said it was definitely a pink job.  Mm-hm.  That topic shall never die. 

 

6.  Superfudge.  Remember that book…Judy Blume?  Mm-hmm.  I bought it for Kate.  I was so impressed with myself for choosing this book for Kate, which she devoured in about 2 days.  And then I read this passage:

When I got home that afternoon, I cornered my mother.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to let him go on believing in Santa.” 

bla bla bla…

“I do agree that sooner or later he’ll have to learn that Santa is just an idea.”  She sighed.  “But for now, he’s so enthusiastic and the idea of Santa is so lovely that Daddy and I have decided it can’t possibly hurt.  So please go along with us for a while Peter.”

bla bla bla…

“Well I think it’s a mistake!”  I said.  I turned and walked away.  I couldn’t remember ever having believed in Santa.  When I was three I caught my parents stacking presents under the tree.  And by the time I was five, I knew exactly where to look for the presents my parents thought they had carefully hidden from me.”

 

Well if that isn’t just fantastic.  Now Christmas — nay, her entire childhood — is ruined.  The magic is all over.  I know — it was only a matter of time – I know.  Actually, this was probably a pretty easy way to “find out.”  Unless she actually already knew.  Which is certainly possible.  But still.  Crap. 

The problem with finding books for Kate is that she needs something  a little advanced…like for a 11-12 year old level reader.  But she is only 8.  So I need books that are appropriate topic and material for an eight year old.  Any suggestions?  I tried The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo, and pre-read that to make sure it was appropriate.  I found the selling of a little girl by her father (who never looked back, not even once) to a man that clouts her on the ear so much that her ears begin to look like cauliflower, and the mouse blood and bones and smell of death to be a little much thankyouverymuch.  So she’ll be waiting a little while to read that one.  Sheesh.  So please, your suggestions are very, very welcome.

And that’s pretty much it for this house for this week.  Night-night! 

The Rules

This sheet of paper has been posted to William’s doors for several weeks now.  I finally bothered to read it.  Get a load of this:

William J (in case we weren’t sure exactly which William)

My rules

1.  Don’t look at me when I’m getting dressed. 

2.  Only six and up on the top bunk!  (this is important because excluding his brother from the top bunk is legitimate for another 6 months)

3.  If you pass gas in this room you will [have] to leave.

4.  No wrestling or jumping on the top bunk!  (if you try it, you’re liable to knock yourself out with the ceiling, anyway.)

5.  No hiding from me!

6.  Henry don’t yell talk sing or w[h]isper at bed time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alrighty then.  I’ll be sure to pass gas elsewhere when I want to remain in William’s room.

***

One other thing…I caught the two year old sitting at the island, chugging juice straight out of the container today.  She’s so klassy.  At least she didn’t chuck that across the room when she was done with it. 

***

Oh, the Memories We are Making…

I am in the midst of the-last-week-of-the-school-year/end-of-year-parties/teacher-gift-assembly h*ll.  Therefore, being short on time, I am putting up a list of the seven-year-old’s memories which he began compiling yesterday.  And let me just say, I hope it’s not a complete list.  Or a “best-of” list.   Without further ado, I give you William’s Memory Book…

1.  I started Pre.K.

2.  I had field day in K(indergarten).

3.  I started K(indergarten).

4.  When I finished K(indergarten), I almost drownded.  (What?  You did?  When was that and where was I?)

5.  Henry barfed on the couch. (It always comes back to the barf.)

6.  Kate barfed in the car.  (Oh dear God don’t remind me of that ride.  That is a ride that will live in infamy in this family’s history.)

7.  Kate barfed pink.  (See a pattern here?)

 And that is William’s life to this point.  Or at least his recollection of it.  You’re welcome.

Butterflies

 

“But these are flowers that fly and all but sing…” 

–Robert Frost

Visit 5 minutes for mom for more wordless wednesday photos. 

 

A Few Miscellaneous Things

1.  Ella is almost two.  She’ll be two in 4 days.  Four days.  Two has always been one of my favorite ages with my kiddos.  They are able to communicate relatively well (which for Ella means a lot of pointing and shrieking and such).  They are so full of wonder at two.  Everything is new to them.  And Ella wants nothing more than to play with me, all day long.  To read books together, to have tea together, to cradle our babies and comb our hair and blow bubbles.  Together. 

Two. 

That’s what it’s all about.

 

2.  Note to self…read bottle labels before you wash your face.  Otherwise you might douse your face with nail polish remover.  And also, if you notice that the astringent smells ”so much stronger than you remember it smelling,” perhaps that is because it is actually not astringent, but nail polish remover. 

 

3.  There is apparently some bullying on the bus to and from school.  And my little boy is bearing the brunt of it.  Crap.  I don’t know who the little creep is, but when I find out, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.  That ought to freak him out enough to stop telling William he’s going to beat him up.  I kid.  A little.  In all seriousness, William is not terribly upset about it.  He said “I’m handling it.  I’m taking care of it.”  Isn’t that the cutest thing for a seven year old boy to say?  I’m just glad school is about over so this issue can evaporate over the summer. 

 

4.  My frog is gone.  Y’all remember my frog, and my wierd little obsession with him, right?  My poor little frog.  I don’t know what happened to him.  And this year he had a friend with him.  They’re both gone.  The Man casually postulated that a bird got them.  Thankyouverymuch for that, Mr. Man. 

 

5.  I made more cake pops oh.yes.I.did.  They are so fancy!  I think I could sell them, seriously.  Except that they don’t really taste that great, imho.  Henry likes them.  And last night I caught Ella lying on her belly on the island biting into one of them.  She seemed to rather enjoy it, too.  

There is a secret to making these things work.  I figured it out.  Actually, there are several secrets.  And okay, I actually figured them out by reading them on Bakerella’s site.  This is why they call me savvy, people. 

 

6.  We are on furlough #2 here this week.  Oh, it’s fun.  It’s a funlough.  I have nothing more to say. 

 

7.  We have  a winner in the Uprinting poster print giveaway! 

These results were audited by the firm of Me & TheMan, LLP. 

Brooke is the winner!  Brooke, enjoy your poster print. 

Uprinting does all sorts of printing online, from poster prints to canvas prints…the possibilities are endless folks. 

That is all.