Window Art

If you haven't played with Window Crayons, you're really missing out on an outstandingly creative and liberating expression of your inner artistic self. There's something deeply satisfying about drawing on a surface that's usually off limits.

I've had these (and Window Markers, which aren't quite as fun) for a long time, but was afraid to give them to the boys for fear that they'd think they could draw on the walls, the floor, the furniture...me. But today was the day for a new experience and out they came. While the results aren't quite Monet or Klimt or Van Gogh or even Warhol, they had a blast!

Actually, I see a bit of Pollock in their scribbles....

  

The finished product. Even Linus was enjoying the view.

Zach wouldn't let me take a picture of the many beautiful colors on his hands, arms and legs
(how did he manage that?!?). He looks like he got in trouble, but I swear he didn't....

That was a lovely 27 minutes of relative peace. It took about an equal amount of time to remove the crayon marks from their various body parts, but it was totally worth it. And I've got free art for a few days, too....

I’m Learning

Today's messy playtime was a breeze for me. It was probably more of a breeze for the boys since they made their mess outside...in the breeze. When the big request to play with the Moon Sand and Moon Dough came, I was ready with the answer: Yes! Not only Yes, but Heck Heah! I'm the cool mom who will let you do anything. I just roll with the punches; fly by the seat of my pants; go like the wind. I set them up outside with a vinyl tablecloth on the patio table and turned them loose.

They chose to wear the art smocks.
I really didn't think the sand and dough would ruin their clothes, but they're nerdy that way.

Zach actually did come into the house once; he needed me to open more Moon Dough for the farm.
Well, alrighty then. Let me get that for you and I'll have you on your way....

As of this moment, they've been out back playing nicely (really...no fighting, no yelling, no crying) for more than an hour. When I finish my bonbons, I'm gonna think about checking up on them. Or maybe I'll just wait until it's time to make dinner. Of course, bathtime probably wouldn't be that late. Oh, wait, as I recall, we were allowed to play outside until the street lights came on....

Arts & Crafts Dropout

I'm trying to be a crafty mom, but I think I might be failing.

I admit it; I'm a messaphobe, which is a fatal flaw when it comes to kids in general, but it's nearly impossible to avoid messes when the craftiness begins to flow. Josh will actually wake me up in the morning and ask if we can "get crafty" (a term he got from Mrs. Debbie, his preschool teacher last year). Zach, on the other hand, never asks, but he's more than happy to pile on, whatever the project.

Last February, I banned Moon Sand from my home.

At least it's allowed outside now....

Today, I wanted to do a handprint flag, so I got out the paints. I've seen it done by a professional, but I've never done it myself. How hard could it be? Harder than you think. To get it to look right and not like a bunch of monkeys stole your paint and went to town, it takes many tries to get it somewhat right.

This is the work in progress. Still needs finishing touches, which I'll probably have done in time for next 4th of July.

Once the paints were out, the floodgates were open. Josh got most of his paint on the paper, but there was probably an equal amount on his paint smock, the tablecloth and his hands. Still, it was better than Zach's attempt. He squirted the red paint from the container onto his paper and Josh's and the table and the floor. Not to be left out, Josh flicked his brush full of blue paint, sending splatters flying onto the floor.

I give myself an 'A' for organization, but an 'F' for execution....

At this point, I was forced to stifle their creativity and cleared away all the supplies, declaring that they couldn't paint again until they were old enough to drive. See, that's really quite brilliant; I'm pretty sure they'd rather fulfill their arts and crafts urges with a far less messy tattoo or seven when they're 16. Problem solved! I may be a messaphobe, but I'm no dummy....

Build-A-Wreck

I know that some people love to be really busy. Not me. A well-paced combination of activities and periods of nothingness are more my style. So, on those days that I do happen to pack a lot into the waking hours, I become, as Anna Nalick might say, a wreck of the day.

9:00a:  Today we (Josh and Zach, not me) did the first of eight beginning swim lessons. You'd think that a 35-minute lesson wouldn't be all that big a deal, but we might as well have been preparing for a trip to the Olympic time trials in Mission Viejo. First, they have to have a swim suit (it's frowned upon to enter the pool without it, though I'm certain both boys would do it quite happily). Then there's flip-flops or swim shoes (What to choose? What to choose?). A liberal application of sunscreen is a must, so the ritual torture of the children ensues ("I don't want the spray kind!" "Don't spray it on my face!" "I don't mind if I get burned!"). Of course, bringing a towel is the kind thing to do. And, don't forget Zach's earplugs so the water doesn't make a beeline down the tubes in his ears, causing heinous ear infections. That's just to get IN the pool.

That's Zach with one of the instructors. He's doing his level best not to get those glowing orange earplugs
anywhere near the water. I'm pretty sure Josh is making up a song that has hand motions and a really loud chorus.

10:15a:  Then we were off to the beloved Dr. Abrolat for our pre-kindergarten physical (again, Josh and Zach, not me). That required that we pack clothes to replace the wet stuff (though Josh insisted he would be quite comfortable in a wet suit for the rest of the day). Being ever-so-efficient, I chose clothes that would match the aforementioned shoes that would be worn to the pool. They changed in the back of the car, though that's getting harder to do since they don't want anyone to see their 'private.' Since it was a pre-kindergarten checkup, we had to have some district forms filled out. I HAD to remember those, so I left them in the car from the dental appointment we had for the same reason last week. At least if I forgot to bring them in to the doctor's office they wouldn't be far when I had to go retrieve them. Again, ever-so-efficient.

We hugged Dr. Abrolat goodbye this time because we must change medical insurance
and can't go to her anymore. Much sobbing, sniffling and slobbering...mostly from me.

11:05a:  Now, I knew there'd be shots and, possibly, a blood draw involved, but I chose to keep that to myself so the boys wouldn't obsess on it all morning. Big mistake. Josh took one look at the shots and screamed, "I want the nose spray kind! I want the nose spray kind!" Unfortunately, that's flu mist and we weren't doing that today. A very strong nurse assisted me in holding his arms, legs and teeth still so the shots could hit their mark. He pronounced it the "worst day ever" and made me promise every hour for the rest of the day to tell him if he had to have another shot (I think that's so he can run away from home first). He also didn't like that I chose his leg for the shot instead of his arm because he has no meat anywhere on his body, so the leg had to be at least marginally better than his arm. He said he'd rather have the shots in his foot. Um, no you wouldn't. Zach got his shots in his arm, didn't move a muscle, didn't cry and then promptly rubbed it in his brother's face, starting another wave of hysterics from Josh. Thank the good Lord they didn't need to have their blood drawn.

11:20a:  We were back in the car and I was scrambling to find something, anything, to stuff into Josh's face to make him stop crying and accusing me of child abuse for the shot incident. One fruit snack and two bags of chips later, he settled down. We drove to Downtown Disney to make a pilgrimmage to Build-A-Bear to use the gift certificate that Uncle Jeff and Uncle Will.I.Am gave to the boys for their birthday. We could have just gone to the local mall, but we HAD to go to Downtown Disney with Kitty Mama and Georgia because it is just sooooo much more fun. It even has a second floor with more overpriced, stuffable things. It took all of my brain power to remember the gift certificate this morning. I also had to remember the car from RideMakerz that Zach got last week (with another gift card) that stopped working the day we got it. (Turns out it comes with super-short-lived batteries that you're supposed to replace right away. You'd think they'd tattoo that on your forehead so you don't look like an idiot carrying in your perfectly functioning, overpriced remote control vehicle a week later.) I also had to remember to bring the stroller because there were going to be many large boxes (two Build-A-Bears and a RideMakerz car), several drinks, a purse, leftover lunch, other miscellaneous food items and wet wipes.

Zach chose a weiner dog and named him 'Friend.' Josh chose a woolly mammoth and named him 'Woolsworth.'

3:17p: Because we parked in the lot where the first three hours are free, we needed to high-tail it out of the place before our time was up. Getting out of World of Disney was nearly impossible. (Do I want a small sucker or a marshmallow Mickey head or some disgusting gummy shish kabob? They both chose the shish kabob.) We're walking, we're walking. Then Zach got something sharp in his shoe. As we were getting it out, the Disney Monorail drove overhead and Zach had to stop everything to gaze upon it...for a loooooong time. "Hurry up!" yelled some crazy lady (yes, I do mean me). I was pushing the ridiculously overloaded stroller while carrying one of the B-A-B boxes as Josh kept up a steady whine of "I'm so tired!" "I can't walk anymore!" "My feet hurt!" "My shots hurt!" "Why didn't you tell me we were getting a shot today?" "How much farther?" Finally, at the car. Seat belts on. Everyone has water for the road. Need to be out by 3:28; it's 3:27. Go! Go! Go! Then, ever so casually, Josh says, "I have to go potty." I briefly consider telling him to cross his legs really tight until we get through the gate, but I can't chance it. So I get out my super-fabulous portable potty (see Great Twinventions to get your own!) and set it up in the back of the car. When he's nearly done, I hear Zach's seatbelt unfasten. "I have to go, too." I'm doomed. Potty done, we race to the exit as I prepare to give the many, many reasons why I should not be charged $15 for being 3 minutes past our scheduled departure time. I'm sweating. Feeling a little sick. And then I see that the gate is up and you don't even need a stinkin' ticket to get out.

I'd be happy to hand this to the parking attendant as I exit the Simba lot, but apparently he had a nap to take.

That was all by 3:30p and I was done. Pooped. Finished. Kaput. Literally sore. I can't even go into what all went on after we got home because re-living it would simply be too cruel (to me and, I suppose, to you because then you'd have to read even more of this nonsense). Luckily, the dinner-eating, bathing and tooth-brushing went amazingly quickly and they were asleep by 8:11p (did you really think I wouldn't watch the clock?).

So, that's why I prefer to do one thing a day. Too many things in one day and they begin to expect constant excitement. I say let them realize now that life isn't always full of thrills and adventure. It's just as important to know how to simply be. There's a reason God created crayons, glitter glue, DVDs and mud...for when Mom doesn't want to pack for the Olympic time trials, of course.

I Knew It!

Last summer, Jay delivered a birthday gift to me from my good friend, Lisa. As I was opening it—and after he had already had his treat after dinner—Josh and I had this little exchange:

"Is today a special day?" he asked.

"Every day is special with you boys," I replied, as if I were answering a trick question.

"No, I mean it's a special day when it's your birthday," he explained.

"Well, today isn't my birthday; my birthday was last month when we were in Chicago."

"But you got a present today, so it's like your birthday and that's a special day," he persisted.

Not knowing exactly where he was going with this, but willing to cede the point, I answered, "Okay, it's a special day."

"Then can I have another treat?"


I knew it was a trick question....

Clouded With a Chance of Extinction

Our bedtime story tonight was Eyewitness Books’ CAT. Quite an informative tome, but not much in the way of a story with a beginning, middle and end; just a bunch of facts.

Anyway, we got to this picture of the Clouded Leopard and the caption said that they live in the forests of Southeast Asia, but are only rarely seen and are in danger of extinction. Having studied dinosaurs extensively and also having developed a definitive explanation for why they became extinct (a meteor hit Earth and covered it with a thick, dark cloud and the sun couldn’t get through, so the dinos died), Josh understands the gravity of extinction.

“Can we get up tomorrow morning and get on a plane to that place where the leopards are to save them?” he asked.

“That’s a long trip and we’d have to do a lot of planning,” I answered. “Besides, the Clouded Leopard is rarely seen; I wouldn’t know where to look.”

Expecting a long, drawn out fight over the necessity of going and the ease with which it could be done, I was quite surprised that he just looked at me and said, “Okay, then can we take a picture of it in the book so I can remember what it looks like when it’s extinct?”

And so I took the picture. And I’m showing it to you. And I hope the Clouded Leopard doesn’t go extinct.

More Trash to Treasure

Over the weekend, a couple of our neighbors had garage sales. Starting at probably 6:30a, Josh bugged Jay to take him across the street to get what he thought was a little doll bed that he could use for his spider rock. Jay declined. By the time we were all dressed for the day, the little bed was gone and Josh didn't let us forget it. Zach, however, was rewarded for his neighborly nosiness with this lovely attachment for a leaf blower…free of charge (thanks, Jeff).

Much later in the day, as we were returning home, we passed the house where the other garage sale was going on and I spied a doll bed. I told Josh to run down and see how much it was. Breathless, he reported back that it was $1. I figured I could hand over a buck to make a spider rock comfy. I may have overpaid, though, because I found out that the bed didn’t have a bottom and we had to make one out of scraps of cardboard.

That danged spider rock has yet to be placed in the bed even though I fixed up a really fancy mattress and bedding….

Hope for the Future

They actually do get along once in a while….

Josh Rides!

And now, Number-Two son has learned to pedal (mostly) on his own. Jay started working with him last Friday and, as of tonight, he’s made great progress.

He’s still not sure he wants to do it, but watching Zach zoom around with ease (other than the getting-on-the-bike part) makes him try. We’re telling him he needs to know how to ride his bike so he can zip around the campground in San Clemente with all the other kids this August. He’s on a mission!

Promises, Promises....

Sometimes it's just nice to have stuff in writing....

Mom's Gift

Mother’s Day is a wonderful concept. It’s a beautiful thing to recognize the contributions of the family’s matriarch. It’s joyous to feel the love of your children and their father through the cards and gifts they give you.

But some gifts are worth more than others. After getting to sleep in, then receiving the handmade and store-bought cards from my guys, Jay took the boys to the golf course for a few hours…without me.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. I enjoy being with them. But, sometimes, the thing a mom enjoys most is peace and quiet. I don’t need to go out to breakfast or lunch or dinner. I don’t need fabulous jewels (though I’m always willing to receive them). Nope, I was happy to pick up the house, get the laundry started and read the Sunday Times. But that’s just me and maybe I’m a little strange….

Please is the Word

Do you ever wonder if your kids listen to a thing you say? That's really not a trick question. I know kids have selective hearing ("Please eat your green food." No response. But ask, "Do you want ice cream for every meal today?" and they're at your side before you can put the question mark on your sentence.) And if the TV is on, Josh has absolutely no hearing under the 115-decibel level of a sandblaster (which I have been known to reach at least once a day). But there must be something in the subconscious of a child that allows him to absorb the lessons you're trying to teach...eventually.

The usual response when I ask Josh and Zach to do something.

Often (and I do mean often), I tell the boys that saying "please" over and over again when I've denied an overly ambitious request ("Pleeeeeeeeeeease, can I eat gummies for breakfast."  "Can I pleeeeeeeeeeease sleep with Boingo the Devil Cat?"), doesn't make me change my mind.

I'm trying really hard not to give in when I've already said No to something. All the experts say that it only encourages more whining, begging, pleading, groveling, tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth because kids know you'll eventually give in to the non-stop, high-pitched screech of a pre-schooler. I usually start out denying the request in a calm, reasoned, sing-songy voice, but after the 61st time, I'm yelling back, "STOP SAYING 'PLEASE'!" (which is absurd since I've spent nearly four years getting them to say the darn word without prompting). "SAYING 'PLEASE' OVER AND OVER AGAIN WON'T MAKE ME CHANGE MY MIND!"

So, the other day, Zach was trying to weasel something away from Josh by employing the aforementioned method, when Josh finally turned to him and said, "'Please' doesn't make me change my mind" and he walked away. I nearly broke out in song. My boy listens to his mother; I've been restored. Now if I could just get him to put his rocks and sticks outside without being asked....

Oh, Mexico....

I was talking to Jay on the phone as he made his way home from work when Zach came in asking if I had a backpack for the 64 stuffed animals he wanted to put in it. Sure. Then Josh came in and asked, "Mom, can we go to Mexico?" (Didn't realize they knew it was Cinco de Mayo.)

Once I realized that they wanted the whole family to go to Mexico, I soured on the idea. I thought they were going to run away from home....

Dear Mrs. Mina

For the second time this week, Josh had a hard time with the concept of going to school. Monday he declared that he needed a vacation day. Today, he stated emphatically that he was done with school and that he had learned all he needed to know.

He insisted on writing a note to his teacher to explain his withdrawal from school. “Okay,” I offered helpfully, “I’ll tell you what letters to write.” (I need blog material, you know.) When he gave it to his teacher with a triumphant expression on his face, I was forced to burst his sweet little bubble. I explained that he needed to go to school at least 13 more years and that I’d see him after school. He wasn’t happy….

Trash to Treasure

It all started when Jay would go to a golf tournament and come home with a bag of freebies (fabulous stuff like reusable bags and water bottles and pads of paper). Zach got used to it and Jay had to start to get creative to keep the 'grab bag' full. He wasn't above raiding the trash to find something that might seem like a real treasure.

Tonight, Jay walked in the door from work nearly an hour past his usual time, only to be greeted by Zach wanting to know if Dad had anything for him. Long story short, Jay searched for odds and ends and made Zach a dust mop (he was thrilled!) and Josh's baby chick was made into a rocker chick with the addition of a tiny paper guitar and some rock and roll hair.

God bless the man for his patience. That depleted it, but he was patient when it counted ♥

Enchanting...

We rented a video from the library and Josh was watching it with rapt attention. "Mom," he said, "this is the greatest movie ever; what's it called?"

"Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs."

"Why are the meatballs enchanted?"

"No, Son, 'a chance' of meatballs."

Then we got into a discussion of cliches and idioms and figures of speech and other things I didn't really know how to explain. I should have just told him why the meatballs were enchanted....

"Go Back!"

Does it seem like a tattoo (or the lack thereof) would cause the world to end?

Before we left for school, Josh said he wanted a tattoo (temporary, of course) since the other three (or is it four) were coming off (very attractive). Sure, no problem. We got in the car and were halfway to school when he realized that we forgot the tattoo.

"Go back!!!!"

"No, we're late."

"You've got to go back!!!"

"I'm sorry, no. But I do have stickers."

Zach thought that sounded good and chose three. Josh was willing to entertain the thought. Upon inspection, though, they weren't 'cool' enough. (When did he turn 18?) He then refused to get out of the car. Drag-scrape-pull to the classroom. Follow-cling-beg. Miss Christina pulled him off of me and assured him that she had a tattoo for him (oh, Lord, I sure hope so).

When I picked up the boys from school, Josh had a lovely butterfly tattoo, which he decided would look great on his tummy along with his monkey tattoo.

Note to Self: Add temporary tattoos to list of random stuff to bring with me at all times....

Some days...

...are harder than others.

Zach & Josh: After the "Marker Incident"

This is how it all began in October of 2008. I'd had a particularly trying day with my two-and-a-half year olds. I needed someone...anyone...to know that I had brought into this world two of the most ill-behaved children ever born. So I sat down at the computer and sent my husband an e-mail with a blow-by-blow account of my morning.

After all, he got to drive for nearly two long, blissful hours by himself to get to work each day. Then he had a glamorous and fulfilling day dealing with the members of the credit union where he works. He got to eat his whole, entire lunch without someone asking to eat it or throwing part of it on the floor. He could go potty without an audience (well, as long as no one was in there with him...and certainly they didn't sit on his lap). Then he got two more quiet hours to himself on the drive home from work. He not only needed to hear about my day, he was going to hear about it. And so I wrote:

• I take a shower.  Boys stand on a toy to get to the pens and mark themselves up.  Luckily, no one decided to poke themselves in the eye with the letter opener or cut his brother's hair with any of the four (four?) scissors in the pen bucket.
• I take the boys to the grocery store.  Josh spits his water all over himself before we get there.  He's soaked.
• I buy the boys 99-cent plastic pumpkin buckets.  Josh is cute and puts his fishy snacks in there.  Josh is un-cute and adds water.
• When we get home, I give Josh his water cup to carry into the house.  By the time I return with Zach, he has poured more water into the pumpkin and on the floor.  Water taken away for good.
• I change my pants and shoes.  Boys stand on an empty wipes container to reach my computer, which I find on the floor and there's a mysterious error message on the screen.  Cell phone has been pilfered as well.  Glasses bent at a precarious angle.
• Lunch involves much throwing and spilling.
• Josh finds Zach's water cup and spits water all over himself.
• As I clean up the last of lunch, Zach comes into the kitchen and says, simply, "poo-poo."  That can mean only one thing:  Josh has inspected his poo and found it pooey.  Last straw, so off to bed for everyone.  Including me.

Moral of the story:  Don't have children unless you're willing to put them in the full-time care of others who may or may not share your values, morals and disposition.  Oops, that's not what I meant to say.  The moral is to watch your children's every move because they are infinitely curious and unfailingly able to get your attention in the least desirable way possible.

We look forward to seeing you tonight.  oxo, k

Jay was especially kind and attentive and helpful when he got home. I got a good night's sleep and tried to do better the next day....