Entrepreneur

Noah tends to get along well with kids a little older than he is. He has a good friend that lives two houses down from us, that is in 7th grade. At first, I was hesitant, because the difference between a third grader and a seventh grader is HUGE. However, David is such a good kid, and he and Noah get along famously. A couple times a month, I let Noah ride his bike or scooter up to Wal-Mart with David. This is the highlight of his week when he goes. Cruising the 14 different aisles with $2 in his hand. See, the rule is, he has to take his own money that he has earned from allowance. Noah has been sliding on his chores, so for three weeks straight he has earned about 50 cents. This is absolutely pathetic, since if he just does his simple chores every day, he would earn $3.50 in a week, plus any bonus jobs he does. So, I thought I was teaching him such a grand "consequence" lesson the other day when he came in and asked to go to Wal-Mart with David.

Me: Well, I don't see any sense in you going, since you haven't done your chores forever and you have NO money to spend.

Noah: I have money.

Me: (making an assumption) No, you can not use David's money.

Noah: I have my own money that I earned.

Me: No, you haven't earned ANY money this week.

Noah: Yes I have, I just earned seven bucks.

Me: WHAT?

To sum it up, David and Noah decided to knock on neighbor's doors and offer to rake leaves. What do they charge, you ask? FOURTEEN DOLLARS AN HOUR. Seven for David, seven for Noah. Together they are making more than I did at my first job out of college and he's only eight! And wouldn't you know, the first door they knocked on, they were hired. My neighbors are buying my kid out from underneath me! I suddenly imagine no chores ever done again! He really can't help it though, the poor kid is Mormon with Jewish blood. He was born to wheel and deal. Tight is his first name, cheap is his middle. He and David are already scheming up a window washing business for next summer. If you need a loan, call 1-800- bank-of-noah, I think he'll be able to retire before he hits high school!

My Little Linus

At the risk of sounding like I favor one of my children......I must post about Jack, again. Not that I don't adore my other three boys just as much....it's just that Jack is at that age (2-4 in my opinion) when they say and do the funniest things!

Ever since Jack's phobia of the police began, he's been attached to me at the hip. This is odd in a way, because he has always been a daddy's boy. But lately, he even cries when I leave to go to work, which has NEVER happened. Go figure. Maybe after three long years, he figured out that I'm his mom, who knows. Because of our temporary hip attachment, and said phobia, I started a more complicated bedtime routine with him. After we say family prayer and put the big boys to bed, I head upstairs with Jack and spend about 15 minutes with him in his room. This is how tonight's tuck in time went:

Jack: Mom, you lay down with me and sing three songs and say prayer?

Me: Sure

Jack: OK Mom, here's your spot (patting to a 4" corner of the bed he has so thoughtfully reserved for me)

Me: OK, what song are we going to sing?

Jack: Mom, you sing three songs and sleep with me for three minutes?

Me: Yes, I'll sing three songs and sleep with you for three minutes.

Jack: You sing three songs and sleep with me for three hours?

Me: You're pushing it, buster.

Jack: Oh

We proceed to sing Twinkle Twinkle, Row Row Row Your Boat, and Five Little Ducks. Then Jack says a prayer which includes a request that "the brothers don't fight and hit." Was he reading my mind? Then Jack says "Time to go to sleep now, mom?" I say "Yep, time to go to sleep." He throws his arms up in the air, as if in victory and says "Yeeeessssss!" Then rolls over on his side away from me. This is my favorite part of tuck in time because it always makes me smile. With his right hand, he sticks his thumb in his mouth. It might bother me if he didn't look so stinking cute doing it. He found that thumb at four months old and hasn't let go of it since, especially when he sleeps. Who am I to judge, I sucked my thumb while I slept until I was 12 or 13....no lie. Then with his left hand he clenches my arm with a death grip as if we are parachuting out of a plane at 35,000 feet. Finally, in a desperate attempt to fall asleep before it's time for me to get up and leave his room, he closes his eyes SO tight that he squints them. I remember begging my mom to stay in my room until I fell asleep when I was little, so the fact that he does this is nostalgic for me. So he does his thumb sucking, death gripping, eye squinting for about thirty seconds. Then, without opening his eyes, or moving any other part of his body, he abruptly pulls his thumb out of his mouth, throws his arm behind his head toward me and says (while still facing the wall).......

"Mom, you wanna suck my fumb?"

Me: "Ummm, no thank you"

Jack:" You don't have a fumb to suck?"

Me: "My thumb sucking days are over"

Jack:" Oh, I sorry. You my buddy, Mom?"

Me:"I sure am"

Jack:"And I your buddy, Mom?"

Me:"Of course!"

Jack:"OK, goodnight Mom buddy, I wuv you"

No matter what has happened in the previous 12 hours of that day, when it ends like that, it's all worth it. Good night buddy, I love you too!

Bad Boys, Bad Boys....Whatcha gonna do?

By this point in my motherhood career, I thought I was quite schooled in irrational childhood fears. Elijah was and still IS our irrational fear extraordinaire. Everything from lions in the basement, boogey men coming through a crack in the window pane, three headed dogs (Thank you, Harry Potter), and my personal favorite......the fear of pickles.

We now have a new one to add to the list, compliments of Jack.......the police. (Or powice as he calls them.) How on earth would a three year old develop the fear of police, you ask? Well, let me share. Joel TiVo's the show "Cops." (OK, ok, it's his white trash guilty pleasure, cut him some slack here.....my white trash guilty pleasure is People Magazine, but I digress...) One evening, Joel was watching "Cops" and Jack wandered into the room, climbed up on the bed, and began watching with him. It just so happens, that this episode of "Cops" was in New Orleans, during Mardi Gras. (I can already hear the gasps, and people running to their phones to turn us into Child Protective Services.....Cops is bad enough...but Cops in MARDI GRAS???!!) There were three great lessons for any kid to learn from this Cops episode. (Did I really just say that?)

1. No spitting

2. No peeing outside

3. No running around naked

We actually thought this little 30 minute "educational" TV show had done wonders when Jack was bouncing around from seat to seat in the van, and Joel promptly said, "Jack, if you don't put your seat belt on, the police can arrest you." He immediately stopped and said "Powice will awest me?" then jumped in his seat, and started screaming..."Quick, put my seat bewlt on, mom! Powice awest me!" Joel and I looked at each other and thought to ourselves..."WOW! Why didn't we try that line with Noah and Eli at this age?"

Fast forward about four weeks. Add to that four weeks, the jumbled thoughts of a three year old. Jack is now TERRIFIED of the police. He was in the back yard, jumping on the trampoline, and came in hysterically screaming "Powice coming to get me, powice coming to get me!" because he heard sirens outside. We've been telling him for two months what a big boy he is now, for going pee in the potty. He has somehow confused "Big boy" with "Bad boy" and thinks the "powice" are coming to get him because he's a big boy. He now gets up 4-5 times every night, shaking, sweating and crying that the police are coming to take him. I opened an e mail my mom sent me that was a safety video done by a Sheriff's office. As soon as the video started to play and Jack saw the Sheriff's deputy in uniform, he started crying and screaming. Last but not least, I couldn't get him in the tub last night, because he was afraid he was going to be arrested for being naked.

We have tried and tried to explain that the police are our friends. That they keep us safe, and get the bad guys. (In Jack's mind, insert "big boys" here) I talked until I was blue in the face about how it's OK to be naked in your HOUSE, but not outside. I've even checked out some children's books from the library about the police. But, I'm telling you, the kid won't budge. When it all started, it was cute and funny.......now it's controlling my days and nights. I'm beginning to hate the police, myself!

My last ditch effort is going to be to introduce Jack to my friend's husband. He's a SWAT Sargent and I'm hoping if I prime him with a cool toy ahead of time, Jack will be putty in his hands. I'll keep you posted on how it goes. In the mean time, no spitting, no peeing outside, no running around naked, and for heavens sake, PLEASE wear your seat belt!

Semantics

A quick funny story.....just so I don't forget it years from now.
This month, we had the opportunity to see THREE missionaries off to their missions from Joel's family. First Whitney entered the Missionary Training Center (MTC), to learn Spanish and then serve in the Rochester, NY mission (Spanish Speaking). She'll be working in the visitors center there. Then, five days later, Joel's parents entered the MTC for a week of training before heading off to Morristown, NJ, where they will serve in the mission office for 18 months, and also volunteer at the Manhattan Temple. So, a few days before we are going to see Whitney off, I am explaining to Elijah our plans for the week. This is how the conversation went:
Me: So, then on Wednesday, we are going to get dressed in our church clothes, and drive down to Provo, where we will see Whitney off to the MTC, and then she'll start her mission!

Eli: So, Whitney is going on her mission this week?

Me: Yes! She'll go to the MTC to learn Spanish first, and then she'll go to her mission.

Eli: So......she's serving her mission where there are no scary fish?

Me: WHAT?

Eli: There's no fish where Whitney is going to serve her mission?

Me: (more confused) WHAT are you talking about?

Eli: Well, you said that she's going to the EMPTY SEA!

Me: (trying hard not to burst out laughing) Ooooh! Eli...the "M" "T" "C"....Misisonary Training Center.

Eli: Oooooh! I'm a dork.

Then Noah asked his question.....

Noah: Sooooo, basically everybody who speaks Spanish comes from New York?

Me: What?

Noah: Well, isn't that why Whitney has to learn Spanish to serve her mission....because all Spanish people come from New York?

So......good luck to our missionaries. May you be surrounded with all the people who speak Spanish, and have no scary fish to deal with!

Just Another Day In Paradise

Warning: if you have a weak stomach, do not proceed.

God blessed me with a strong stomach. I knew this would come in handy in my chosen career field of medicine. You can't imagine how much blood, guts, and body fluids you deal with in a day. However, I did not realize how handy this little blessing would be in my other career......motherhood. Let me share with you the grossities (yes, I know it's not a word, but it works) I dealt with in the span of 10 short hours. OK, maybe not short....these were very looooong hours.

Jack is potty trained now. YIPPEE! WOO HOO! Three down, one to go! He was nice and neat in the bathroom, until Eli showed him that you can STAND UP and go potty. Jack thought this was the best thing since sliced bread. I'm standing in the bathroom, next to the toilet, waiting for him to finish, so I can help him wash his hands. While trying to master the art of upright urination, he manages to pee on his hand. This freaks him out so he turns sideways (while in the middle of peeing) and starts yelling "MOM! I PEED ON MY HAND! I PEED ON MY HAND!" He seems to not care that now, he is peeing on MY legs.....and the floor, and the scale, etc. This in turn leads to a shower. I will refer to this as shower #1. You will soon understand why I have to number it. Shower number one is shared with Jack, because even though he only peed on his hand, if he hears the shower running, he's naked and in it in less than 30 seconds.

Fast forward one hour. Jack announces he needs to poop now. For whatever reason, Jack can't just get up and go to the bathroom. There has to be an announcement, complete with fanfare. I say "OK, then go!" He disappears and the next time I see him, he's walking into the office naked from the waist down and says "Mom, I got poop on the couch." Me: "WHAT? HOW did you get poop on the couch?" Jack :"There's poop on my bum, mom." I further investigate to realize that he did indeed go to the bathroom in the toilet, but failed to wipe, or ask me to help him wipe, and ran back down stairs to catch the end of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. No underwear, poopy butt. This now makes for a poopy couch. I take the cover off the couch cushion and realize I had better wash them all, and throw them in the washer.

Thirty minutes later. Jack, Logan and I are all in my bedroom. I am sorting through winter clothes and the boys are playing on the floor. Jack again announces he needs to go poop. I start wondering just how much apple juice this kid has drank in the past 24 hours. I again say 'OK then, GO!" He trots off into my bathroom. Logan sees the open bathroom door and tears off after him. I'm not concerned, because I know Logan can't get into the toilet, because Jack is sitting on it! I finish going through the stack of clothes in front of me and head for the bathroom to help Jack when he is finished. I walk in....and see this scene: Both Logan and Jack standing "stoolside"......Logan is making poo stew with his hands, squishing it through his fingers, throwing it back in, and Jack is standing there laughing hysterically. Jack suddenly sees me, turns VERY serious and says "OH! MOM! Logan's in the toilet! Quick! Get him!" This in turn leads to shower #2. I am in the shower, because I spent 20 minutes sanitizing the floor, walls, and toilet. I am sharing shower #2 with Logan, for obvious reasons. Half way through shower #2, I look down to see that Logan has left his own "deposit" on the shower floor. How thoughtful.....he wanted to participate too. ARGH!

We get out of the shower, get dressed (again), and I get Logan a bottle and put him in his crib for a nap. I then call Reagan to regale her with my morning. I hear Logan fussing a bit, no big deal. Then, suddenly I hear a CRASH....."WAAAAAAAH WAAAAAAAAH." I hang up, run to Logan's bedroom, and find him laying on the floor, with a giant rug burn on his forehead. Evidently, he's decided to try a triple front flip, with half pike, off the top railing of his crib. I pick him up, hold him up on my shoulder and rock him back and forth while "Shhhh" ing him. He's hysterical and REAAAALLY ticked off. I dunno.....maybe he's upset that he didn't actually land it. I didn't see it, but I'm sure it would have scored low with the judges. Anything that ends with a rug burn can't score high. I keep trying to calm him down for several minutes. Then, suddenly I feel a splat, splat, splat. on my back. I look over my shoulder to see that Logan has thrown up his entire bottle that he just drank. Down my back, down my arm, and on my brand new bed spread......that of course is dry clean only. (What was I thinking when I bought that?!) On to shower #3. Again, shared with Logan.

Later, it's time to fix dinner. When it's time for me to fix dinner, the boys feel that it's their time to provide the entertainment. It's like watching monkeys on crack. They do everything from gymnastics, to lip synching songs while using the fire place hearth as their stage. They also love to slide around the hardwood floor in their socks and pretend they are ice skating. Hey! Cheap entertainment for them AND it polishes my floor. (Tomorrow I'm going to duct tape sponges on their feet and have them try out their ice skating skills on the bathroom floor.) Jack brings in a pillow from the living room and throws it on the floor. I'm only half way paying attention to him, but turn around in time to see him running full speed toward the pillow and doing a Pete Rose slide on to it. He slides across the floor, on his belly, on top of the pillow. Until the pillow hits a toy, stops abruptly, and Jack goes flying OFF the pillow, face first into the hardwood floor. He immediately starts screaming, turns around and is gushing blood and drool all over. I snatch him up to see exactly where the blood is coming from, and get a blood bath while I wrestle him to the counter. Several swear words and an ice pack later. I am standing in shower #4. Of course, sharing it with Jack.

So that sums up my ten hours. Oh yeah, the next day we had family pictures, complete with Jack's fat lip and Logan's rug burn on his forehead. Thank goodness for digital editing tools! Give me a call any day, and I'm sure I can entertain you with more body fluid stories. Oh! If I don't answer the phone.......I'm probably in the shower.

The Faces I Adore

Joel's cousin, Faye, whom we LOVE, is becoming quite the photographer. She offered to take pictures of the family, so we had her take some pictures of Jack and Logan since they just celebrated their birthdays. Then I forcefully drug Noah and Eli out of bed and she got a few shots of them too. Anybody who tackles the job of photographing four boys has the patience of a saint! Needless to say, taking a group shot of them was nearly impossible. How do people who have 6 and 8 kids do it??? I could look at these over and over. I love my boys and feel so blessed that I get to be their mom. Yes, some days I could snatch myself bald, but they truly bring us lots of laughs and smiles. We love the photos! Thanks Faye!

Scrubs

Last night I worked with my good friend Dawn. Not that this is rare, I work with Dawn every Saturday night that I'm scheduled. I love working with Dawn. We "get" each other. If I ever have to trade a shift, I refuse to give up my Saturday night, it's my favorite night to be there. It's always Dawn, Terri and myself and we refer to it as "girls night out at work." We have a blast. Last night was no exception as we "shopped" for new scrubs.

Let me begin by stating that I am a "simple scrubs" type of person. Joel calls it "picky" but I prefer to call it "simple." Drawstring pants and a plain shirt. I don't like flowers on my scrub tops, no cutesie juvenile prints, and I prefer a shirt I can tuck in. I do have a few printed tops that Joel bought for me a loooong time ago when he went out of town with his MBA class. He actually did a great job. For being "printed" tops, I liked them. However, I prefer not to wear the shirts with the big patch pockets sitting right on top of my baby pooch. You know, the pooch that never goes away after your first c-section. It's permanently there, as your buddy, for life. I don't really need two giant pockets sitting on top of it that I can throw tons of crapola in and draw more attention to my more than ample baby pooch. They make me feel like I'm wearing an apron and being very matronly.

Last night, Dawn was standing at my desk, thumbing through a new scrubs catalog that had arrived. She suddenly blurts out..."WHO WOULD WEAR THESE?" Curious as to what exactly she is talking about, I jump up to look. She flips the catalog around and points to a scrub top (matching jacket also available) with giant toothbrushes, toothpaste, and dental floss on it. Not only are they giant, but evidently they are also alive. Standing next to each other like the three amigos, holding hands with big ol' smiles on their....errr......faces? This sparked an idea in my head. If people actually buy this stuff, I have a new money making idea for myself. I'm going to design scrubs. Ooooh yeah. These will be like no other scrubs you have seen before.....specific to your dental or medical specialty. For orthodontists, they will have big braces, rubber bands, and head gear floating around in a sea of that pink cement junk that they make molds of your mouth with. Mammography your specialty? I have a top in my collection, with random sized implants, wonder bras, and milk jugs, all interwoven with a pink ribbon for breast cancer awareness. And my very favorite, for the OB/GYN professional, a scrub top with tubes of KY jelly, speculums, and ovaries all holding hands and waving to the recumbent patient about to have a bi manual exam. I KNOW that one will be a big seller. All tops are $19.99 and come in sizes from XS to XXL. I'll be taking orders beginning Monday. Free tube of KY for for the first 10 OB/GYN scrub tops I sell.

WHAT did he say?

Last Sunday, Elijah was asked to give the opening prayer in Primary. I teach Eli's class every other week, and this was my fortunate week to be in there and witness the angelic words of children. For those of you who know Eli, he is not shy. Another thing he is not, is quiet. I have no idea where he would get a loud voice, but somewhere, that gene came barreling through. We sing the opening song of "I'm Trying To Be Like Jesus" and then Elijah procedes to the stand, complete with microphone. (Which he would NEVER need) He folds his arms, bows his head, and begins his prayer. "Heavenly Father, we're thankful for this day. We're thankful for Primary, and for our techers. Please bless us with the Spirit. Please bless us to be good in our classes, and PLEASE bless us to do our chores good, and not half a*sed." Yep, that's what that little six year old darling said (minus the asterisk). I IMMEDIATELY feel my face burning up. I open one eye as little as I can and look to my right. There,I see one of my friends covering her mouth and literally convulsing in her chair from laughter. I didn't have the guts to look anywhere else in the room, so I just closed my eyes again and said my own little prayer that people would think he said "ASKED." After he finishes his prayer, I immediately bend down and start digging through my diaper bag, as if I'm looking for something. I am.......a hole to crawl into. I keep up this charade for a good five minutes. I figure if people don't see me reacting to his words, then they'll just think they heard him wrong, right? I mean, never mind the fact that the kid speaks plain as day and had a microphone boosting his already 120 decibel voice. After church while sitting at the dinner table. I say "Hey, Eli, you gave a great prayer....loud and clear, buddy! But that word you used is a bad word, and we don't use it....ESPECIALLY in a prayer." Eli asks "What word?" I reply "You know, that "a" word.....the one about doing your chores." He looks at me with this quizzical look on his face like "REALLY? Who knew!?" shrugs his shoulders, and says "OK, I won't. Thanks, Mom." Oh, my little man. You keep me on my toes and I sure love you, dirty prayers and all.

EVERYBODY'S doin' it!

So......here I am, giving in to the peer pressure of starting a blog. I don't run around like a chicken with my head cut off enough, so I thought I would add something else to my plate. Reagan, Melanie and Sharla have all convinced/guilted/pressured me into doing it. (Don't you love how I'm already making them responsible for this!) Funny thing is...Sharla doesn't even have a blog of her own...and here she is convincing me to do it! The ironic part of all of this is...I hate to write. I hate to write papers, talks, notes, grocery lists....everything. I even hate writing my initials on my children's reading logs for school. I'm feeling pressure to entertain and awe.....and I'm afraid that's not going to happen. Reagan's blog is always entertaining.....makes me laugh so hard I cry half the time. Melanie is a computer goddess and she has somehow created her own template, complete with VIDEOS! It took me thirty minutes to figure out how to put a simple post on this thing! I'm afraid to see how long it takes me to figure out how to upload a picture onto it. So, for the three of you that encouraged me to do this.....this could be the only post until next year....when I figure the whole thing out. Or I could just give you my password and you can all put posts on it and make me look like I have a FABULOUS blog! Feel free!