Water, Water Everywhere {and an obscure movie reference}

We have plastic cups sitting everywhere in the kitchen. Half full of water. It's bad. Like, I'm waiting for aliens to land and someone to yell "Swing away" and start hitting the half-filled cups with a baseball bat kind of bad. (Points if you know what movie that's from.)

Also? It drives me nuts.

How hard can it be to use the same cup all day? Just one day. Not a month or a week. Just a single day. That's all I'm asking.

Apparently, it's really hard.

"Whose cup is this?"
"Not mine!"
"Not mine!"
"It has to be one of yours. Because it's not mine, and I'm pretty sure Oz can't reach the water dispenser."
*blank stares*

(And no, it didn't matter what the cups looked like - superheroes, pink, flowers, plain. DIDN'T MATTER.)

I couldn't handle it any more. So I decided to try a new thing. And it's actually working pretty well.

I bought some plain cork coasters at Walmart - they were around $4. Then, I traced a C and an H on the coasters and colored them in with Sharpies. Now, when the kids get a cup out, they're supposed to set it on their coaster after getting their drink. It keeps drippy cups off the counter, and it gives them a single place to put their cups.

I know I'm not the first person to use this little trick, but it's made a huge difference in the state of my kitchen and the number of cups sitting around the house. Now, if I could only manage to make it work in the kids' bathroom, too. We're still set up to fight aliens in there. But one day...one day.

Why Do My Children Hate Sleep?

This is a question I’ve asked for a very long time. But last night took the cake.

Honor has been through phases of terrible bedtimes. Ok, so maybe this phase has been going on since she was 16 months old. It’s been a long phase. I keep telling myself it’s a phase because that means it will be over one day. One day, she will JUST GO TO BED. No fighting, no fussing, no crying or whining, no getting out of bed 873 times. No parking myself at the top of the stairs with a wooden spoon. No sneaking up the stairs to catch her in the playroom long after she was supposed to be sleeping. No hearing Caedmon yell, “Mom! Honor’s in my room!” thirty minutes after lights out. One day. One day, both my children will sleep.

(Don’t crush my dreams, ok?)

The past few nights have been particularly challenging. Honor has been extra resistant at bedtime, and it’s about driven me to the brink of insanity. Who am I kidding? I was pretty close already. But last night? Last night was it. And I mean it.

I was worn out. I finally dragged myself to bed a little after 9pm, which is way earlier than I usually go to bed, and over an hour after Honor had “gone to bed.” (Yes, in quotation marks. Because she clearly hadn’t actually gone to bed.) As soon as I got settled under the covers, her shrill little voice yelled “Mom!” from the top of the stairs.

I joked with Husband that she must have a sensor that went off as soon as I got into bed. Because it seems that no matter when I get in the bed, she yells for me. It could be 9pm or midnight…she will yell.

I got up and walked to the bottom of the stairs. She was looking down at me from behind the gate at the top. I asked what she wanted. The words that came out of her mouth both made me want to laugh hysterically and scream at the same time, “Mom, why did you try to go to bed?”

That’s exactly what I did. I tried to go to bed. I suppose I just need to quit trying to go to bed. Maybe that’s the whole problem.

This Good, Crazy Life

I love my life. I love being a wife and mom. I am so grateful to be able to stay home with our kids. And I’m glad we have made the decision to educate our kids at home. I’m also thankful for the opportunity to work from home and contribute financially to our family (and exercise my pre-kid, working brain). But it’s hard, y’all.

There are days I feel productive, things get done, and the kids even wear something besides pajamas. At home. We get our school work done, and even manage to play a game as a family without meltdowns.

Other days, well, Honor pours her own cereal (all over the table…and the floor), then dumps a dozen eggs into my grocery cart (bright side – she only busted two of them), and while I’m cooking dinner, throws a chair down the stairs, gashing the wood floor. (Yes, that all happened in the same day. For real.)

I don’t expect life to be easy. And things worth doing usually aren’t. But the past few months have been a real challenge. As soon as I feel like things are under control just a little bit, it all comes unraveled. I miss blogging regularly and the outlet it provides, but honestly, by the time I get a chance to sit down to write, I’m completely spent. My body is tired and my brain can’t form a complete thought, much less put one to paper (or keyboard). I don’t know how many posts I’ve started and couldn’t finish. Twitter seems much more my speed these days, not because I don’t like the blog, but because I don’t seem to be able to think in much more than 140 characters at a time. And that’s not my favorite. When things are crazy, something has to give, and it’s usually the blog.

I’m not complaining. Or at least, I’m not trying to. I wouldn’t trade my people or life for anything. I might, however, pay big bucks for a couple of nights of uninterrupted sleep. And a kid who just poops in the potty already.

I Couldn’t Make it Up if I Tried

We’re settling back in from a wonderful Christmas. We enjoyed spending Christmas Eve & Day at home, then left the day after Christmas and drove home to Arkansas to spend several days. We enjoyed every minute with our friends and family. Except for the ManCold that came home with Husband.

You’re familiar with the ManCold, right? It’s the same cold that women get, except that it attacks the male of the species. It’s much, much worse. Well, that, and they refuse to heed the advice that got you through the same crud a month previous when you still had to spend 2 days cooking Thanksgiving dinner and go hunting for a Christmas tree. Not that I’m bitter. Or lack mercy.

The main problem with our most recent bout of the ManCold is that Husband and I see things differently. Surprise, surprise. (The Great Syrup Debate of 2010 continues to this day. And need I remind you of the “jelly jar” incident?) While in recent years I’ve begun to treat illnesses with a more natural approach, Husband prefers his remedies to come in blister packs or containing Red #5. (Honestly, I used to think the same thing, but have since discovered that stuff isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He’s just not as on-board quite yet.) As I couldn’t convince him that my way was the right way would help him feel better sooner, he continued on with his self-treatment. I tried to help him feel better and keep my mouth shut at the same time. I wasn’t very good at it. (I also lack sympathy.)

Then Monday rolled around, and he left for work. Honestly, I was happy to be sort-of back to our routine. The weather was frigid and I’d already done my grocery run, so I was looking forward to getting back to school with Caedmon and getting things under control at home. We were rolling with the chores and I was feeling that things, well, they were going to get done.

And then? Husband texted and told me his car was telling him the brake fluid was low. Not normally a big deal, but with single-digit temperatures and sub-zero wind chills, I was afraid that his car had busted a hose or started leaking somewhere. And no brake fluid = no brakes. So it made me really nervous, especially knowing that he would have to drive a while to get home. So we decided he’d re-fill it before he drove home and be really careful and we’d arrange to drop it off at the mechanic’s on his way. It needed an oil change and to have that pesky on again/off again check engine light looked at anyway.

Meanwhile, Honor decided to wet her pants. And when I say “wet her pants,” I really mean that she peed all over the place. As in, through her pants and onto the rug in her bedroom. She hasn’t done that in ages. I got her changed, threw the rug into the washer, and tried to get back to a few things before her roomtime was over. Just a few minutes later, she called out, “Mom! I pee on my legs!” Which is Honor for, “I stood here and just peed, and I might or might not be standing in a puddle right now.” So, again with the clean-up and wardrobe change and a conversation about where pee pee belongs.

(If this is grossing you out, either stop reading or get over it. Because it gets better.)

Husband called, and told me his boss was sending him home. I couldn’t really blame him. And Husband did feel awful. But that left us with having to plan to get the car to the shop to have it checked out on his way home now instead of later. No big deal – I’d just throw the kids in the car and we’d meet him there.

And just about that time, Honor yelled, “Mommy, I need to go poop!” Which, translated, means, “I already pooped in my pants, I’m just pretending I actually tried to go to the potty.” This has been a huge struggle for us, and it’s getting a teensy bit better. But that didn’t help me right then, and now we’re in a time crunch.

I grabbed Honor and took her into the bathroom to get her cleaned up. And, unfortunately, this was not one of those neat little packages that could be handled swiftly. While not truly awful, it still required some scrubbing and a partial bath. I got her cleaned up and dressed. She went to her room to get her shoes, and piped up, “Mom, I got poo poo on my carpet.”

What was that?

She showed me. And she had, in fact, gotten poop on the carpet. How, I do not know. Why, I don’t even want to know. Luckily, after having pets for so many years, I know how to quickly and effectively clean poop out of carpet. Who says having a puppy doesn’t train you for parenting? I got that taken care of, knowing that Husband was going to end up waiting for us to pick him up at the mechanic’s, but it couldn’t be helped.

That’s when I discovered there was poop in her hair. HER HAIR.

I had just given her a partial bath. It was just a tiny little spot on the ends, and I was not about to put her in the tub again with Husband waiting for us. So I grabbed a wet wipe and went to scrubbing. With her hair finally poop-free and smelling like a freshly diapered baby’s rear, I threw both kids in the car (Caedmon was still wearing pajamas and slippers. Let’s be honest – that was the best that was going to happen at that point.), and we headed to pick Husband up.

He was, indeed, waiting for us. And on my way there, the “low tire pressure” light came on in my car. Of course, because why not? I swung in, picked Husband up, and we stopped on the way home in single-digit temperatures to air up my tires. It was as fun as it sounds.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. It consisted of Husband finally relenting to my “voodoo” remedies and napping between nearly coughing up his lungs, the kids acting like wild little hooligans, and Honor deciding that naps are for babies. The mechanic was able to get Husband’s car finished and we picked it up as he was closing at 5pm. The brakes were fine, but that little check-engine light was the source of about $200 in repairs.

I think we had several people’s Monday going on over here.

But we survived it, even if we did have to end the day with watching Auburn get beat in the National Championship. (Yes, we are Razorbacks. But we cheer for the SEC in bowl games, especially the National Championship. And we know and love Gus and Kristi.) Yes, I wanted to pull my hair out. Or at least go sit in the corner by myself for a while (I’d even just settle for getting to go to the bathroom alone). But I’m thankful for my family, that I get to stay home with these little pooping people, and that we have a warm home and (decently) reliable cars. Also our health. I’m glad to report that Husband is feeling much better and the ManCold seems to be on its way out. The children are even still alive and well. And Honor managed to poop in the potty today. On purpose. It’s shaping up to be a good day.

The Army Man Principle

Recently, some of our neighbors were approved to be foster parents. They are a young couple with one child less than a year old.

Less than 24 hours after receiving their foster parenting approval, they accepted three children into their home for emergency placement. They instantly went from having one infant, to four kids up through early elementary.

Overwhelmed would probably be an understatement. At least, it would be for me.

I asked if we could bring some toys over – toys that Caedmon was ready to part with. She readily accepted the offer. Three older kids with only baby toys was going to get old quickly.

So I talked with Caedmon, and we decided he would look through some toys during his roomtime and choose some to give them. We periodically donate things, so this wasn’t a new concept for him. But I knew it might be hard, giving toys to kids we’ll see playing with those toys. And maybe playing with those toys again, but leaving them at their house. But he was willing, and knew I wouldn’t make him give anything he didn’t want to.

I handed Caedmon a box before roomtime, and let him choose some things on his own. After roomtime was over, I went up and checked out the box. In it were some Hot Wheels cars and a few other things. But there were also these army men.

Caedmon loves his army men. He plays with them on a daily basis. We have tanks, airplanes, helicopters, and all sorts of “army” things. He’s asked for more for his birthday. He could spend hours playing with them. So I was surprised to see some in the giveaway box.

I asked Caedmon if he was sure he wanted to give the army men. He quickly replied, “Yes. I have a lot. I can give them some to play with.” Then he walked over and added a helicopter to the box.

And just like that, with a quick reply and kind heart, my son spoke truth into my life.

While it’s true that Caedmon will not likely miss that handful of army men, and he’s (highly) likely to acquire more in the future, that wasn’t what he was thinking about when he chose to share them. He thought about the boy who was living in a new house with no toys of his own to play with. He realized that something he enjoyed could be a blessing to someone else. And he just did it.

We give and donate things all the time. But it’s usually things that we don’t use anymore, don’t need, or just plain don’t want. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But how many times am I guilty of not sharing something because it’s something I truly love? I’m not talking about the chocolate hidden on the top shelf of the pantry. I mean other stuff. Stuff that might affect my comfort. Or my time. Or my ability to live in my nice little world surrounded by my favorite things.

My son both humbled and made me proud that day. And reminded me that Jesus told us to have faith like a child for probably more than one reason. That pile of army men is so much more than just a pile of little plastic toys. Each time I pick up one of these little guys (or step on one in the dark), I will be reminded of the Army Man Principle…to give because it blesses others, not because it’s comfortable for me.

Sacrifice

As moms, we get used to making sacrifices for those we love. And let’s be honest – most of those things are sacrifices that affect mostly us. Our bodies house a human who, once on the outside, continues to use us as a jungle gym for the next several years. We sacrifice sleep. Peeing alone. Wearing clothes without some sort of ick or sticky on them. Sanity. And some days? Showers.

But we also give up other things. We give up life without toothless smiles and sweet giggles. We give up life without precious hugs from chubby little arms and accompanying slobbery kisses. We also toss away our jaded view of the world as we rediscover things through our kids’ eyes.

Sacrifices become a way of life. Something we don’t think anything about because they just become natural. Our husbands sacrifice too – they sacrifice time with us so they can provide for us. They sacrifice things they want to do in order to fix that thing that’s broken. They give up buying “toys” because their paycheck is now buying diapers. Sometimes, our kids make sacrifices. When life gets crazy, everybody does. Somebody misses this or gives up that. It’s the way it works. And it’s not bad, it’s just…life.

But there are times things get out of whack. When you are not so much sacrificing for your kids as much as sacrificing them. It’s a balancing act that’s not always so easy to manage, whether you stay home with your kids or work outside the home. Looking at starting school less than a month from now (where did summer go?), I’m reminded how much of a battle this is. For everyone.

I realize my calendar and schedule would seem rather empty to some, but that’s the way I like it. We don’t have 87 activities we participate in or 153 places we have to be every week. There are times that is the exception, and we just have to do the best we can. We move on through those times, catch our breath at the end, and remind ourselves to build in some downtime.

Sometimes you have to just clear your calendar. Stay home. Stay in your pajamas. Watch cartoons with the kids. Have a picnic in the backyard. Let the kids play in the sprinkler and roll in the grass.

You’ll never wish you’d said “no” when your kids asked you to spend time with them.

Things I Have Heard So Far Today {and What I’d Really Like to Say in Return}:

“I got a little syrup on my shirt,” Caedmon says as he’s standing on a chair at the kitchen sink, thoroughly soaking his shirt with a rag.

What I’d like to say: Oh. Well, maybe you’d have fewer syrup mishaps if you’d have just a little syrup with your waffle instead of the other way around.

What I said instead: Here, let me help you. You know what? I think you got it already. Good job taking the initiative to clean it up yourself. And no, you may not take your shirt off and leave it on the kitchen counter.

“Mom! Honor stepped on my hair.”

What I’d like to say: Really? Last time I checked, you’re a boy with admittedly kinda shaggy hair at the moment, but still relatively short. You would have to be laying down being still for her to step on your hair. And I kinda doubt that. And, if she in fact, did step on your hair and you are not bald or missing a chunk of hair, you’re fine.

What I said instead: Oh, I’m sorry your hair got stepped on. I’m quite certain you’ll be just fine. Honor, apologize to your brother for stepping on his hair.

“Mom! Honor pinched me just like this.”

What I’d like to say: Oh, she did, huh? Well, if she pinched you just like that, I’m guessing it didn’t really hurt that much since you’re doing it to yourself over and over again as a demonstration. Just a thought. And what did you do to her that she felt the need to pinch you?

What I said instead: Stop pinching yourself. It can’t hurt that badly. Honor, apologize to your brother (I say that a lot) for pinching him. And no more pinching.

“Mom! I nee go potty!”

What I’d like to say: Really, Honor? Because for the two days we tried to potty train this week, you only wanted to sit on the potty if I let you watch videos of your Cousin C and otherwise slime my phone. So now that you’ve been relegated to your room to play with your brother, you suddenly need to go potty every 2 minutes? I don’t think so. But we’ll go anyway. I say I want you to be potty trained, so I suppose that means I have to actually take you to the potty at some point.

What I said instead: Ok Honor, let’s go potty!

“My done on da potty, Mom.”

What I’d like to say: I know. Your cheeks barely touched the seat. Clearly, plenty of time has elapsed for you to do your business. Just an FYI – there is no forthcoming M&M for this lackluster effort. I should get about 17, though, for dropping everything and running up the stairs for this 8 second potty trip.

What I said instead: Good job asking to use the potty. We’ll try again later.

“Mom, I can’t find my baseball shorts.”

What I’d like to say: What do you mean, you can’t find your baseball shorts? I know you wore them home because you didn’t come home naked. I washed them, because I remember thinking they were so big, I could probably wear them. And you put your laundry away. So where are they? They’re in the house somewhere. We have to find them. You’re not playing your game naked tomorrow.

What I said instead: Oh wait…I actually said what I wanted to say on this one. (And we still don’t know where the shorts are.)

This, my friends, (and much more) was all before 10am. So the next time you wonder why a Mom is clinging to her sanity with the tips of her fingernails, this is why. Because this all happens in the midst of feeding kids, cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming, vowing to wear something that day besides yoga pants and a cruddy t-shirt, making sure the dog isn’t digging in the garden, and generally keeping some semblance of order in life. Which doesn’t always happen.

But I love it and wouldn’t have it any other way. I begged God for these children, and am thankful for them each and every day, even when they drive me to the brink of insanity. What fun is sanity, anyway?

BE instead of DO

So, last week when I was sans working vocal cords (that still haven’t really recovered) and Husband was out of town on business, my kids spent way too much time without their normal schedule. We watched too much TV, played too many video games, and ate too much junk.

It was a great reminder to just take some time and be instead of do.

While Caedmon was enjoying some Xbox, Honor colored. And had me writing numbers on her paper for her. We also put puzzles together. She enjoys telling me to “sit here” when she wants me to do something with her, usually read or look at her photo book. We spent quite a bit of the morning together. Since I couldn’t really talk, I think she enjoyed bossing me around.

I felt bad about leaving Caedmon to his own devices with the Xbox, but he was enjoying himself. And I knew he and I would have some time together while Honor was napping.

Later, Caedmon and I used marshmallows and toothpicks to make structures. He had a blast building with them. And of course, eating, the marshmallows. We had fun just hanging out together.

I had no voice, and we didn’t accomplish anything. But it was a good day.

Wrestling Crocodiles and Dingoes Simultaneously

It’s actually been a little crazy around here. Monday night, Honor was awake about a bajillion times. I’m not exactly sure why, but I’m going to blame it on the four eye teeth and at least one molar she’s working on.

Tuesday night was more of the same, starting at bedtime. She finally settled down for good just in time for some crazy storms to hit and keep me awake until about 4am watching the radar. Apparently there were about 30 confirmed tornados in middle Tennessee (I’m still learning my local geography, so don’t ask me what that actually means). Yes. Tornados in January. It was actually 70 degrees at 4am after 70+ mph winds swept through. Our only personal damage was a busted can in the pantry.

I kid you not. Right when the squall line was about to push through, we heard a noise, but couldn’t figure out what it was. Caedmon discovered it the next morning. It was a can of chipotle peppers that had not only busted, but splattered all over every canned good we had, and juice ran all over the shelf. Because I have no idea the reason the can decided to burst all over everything, I cleaned the pantry with bleach and trashed everything it touched, just in case it was bacteria-related. (After consulting The Google and a few other places, I decided that it was probably a combination of a couple of different things, but not likely bacteria. Just the perfect storm, if you will.)

Also? My voice was giving out. As in, sometimes I sounded awful. The rest of the time, I sounded…not at all. We went over to play at a friend’s house. The kids had a blast, and it was nice to get to hang out with friends. Honor had a whole hour’s worth of nap before we had to meet the inspector at the house. By the end of the day, my throat hurt terribly and my voice sounded even worse.

Thursday? Thursday, I could only whisper. Literally, I would try to talk and nothing would come out. So, whisper it was. Which was really interesting, seeing that we had to go to Target to buy diapers. And, you know, survive the day. School work went out the window, mostly. At least, the reading part did. Caedmon wasn’t opposed to that, and was pretty excited when I stopped at Redbox and picked up a Lego Star Wars game for him to play instead of school work.

And the kids got away with a lot of yelling and fussing with each other. Mainly because they couldn’t hear me telling them to stop. On the up side, Honor slept Thursday night. Maybe the fussing wore her out. While she was finally sleeping, I watched Pitch Perfect and tried to laugh my head off. Except no sound came out. It was aca-awkward. And I found a new way to describe what a Mom of multiple kids does all day: wrestle crocodiles and dingoes simultaneously. For real. Also? It snowed. Just a dusting, but snow is snow. It’s no wonder my voice is gone. We go from balmy 70 degrees to snow.

Yesterday, my voice was a bit better. I could at least talk a bit now and then. But still no reading homework. Caedmon asked why we weren’t doing school, and I introduced him to the idea of a “sick day.” He quickly pointed out that he wasn’t sick. But I told him that since I was his teacher, he gets a sick day if I am sick. I think he liked that idea.

So it was more movies, Xbox, toys, and LEGOs. Then basketball practice. And a Walmart run. And McDonald’s for dinner. Where they shorted us a cheeseburger and a straw. They’re not on my good list right now.

Today is Caedmon’s basketball game and maybe some chillin’. Hopefully my voice will be back soon and we can get ready for the walk-thru at the house this week!

The Bedtime Diaries

I know that everyone with kids has bedtime struggles. I don’t think it matters what age your kids are, either. And every kid has their own “thing” about bedtime. And it changes every now and again. At least it does for us. But the past few months in the townhouse with my kids sharing a room, bedtimes have been awful. Like, I can’t even describe it. And the past couple of weeks, it’s gotten worse. I didn’t even think it was possible.

We knew that our kids sharing a room would be challenging. But I really thought they’d adjust and things would be fine. Clearly, I was delusional. 

I could go into the details of everything, but that would just wear us all out. But here’s the kicker.

This past weekend, I decided that enough was enough. I was putting Caedmon to bed in our room so I could let Honor sleep and/or cry some without waking him up. But before I put her to bed, I had a little chat with her.

Now remember, she’s 21 months old. She doesn’t quite speak in sentences yet. But the girl knows what’s up.

So we talked. I explained to her that I was putting her to bed, and that I wasn’t going to see her again until the morning when it was time to get up. If she woke up, she needed to lay herself back down and go back to sleep. Every time I’d make a statement, she’d respond with, “Mmm-hmmm” and nod her little head, peering up at me with her big blue eyes.

While I was saying these things and watching her little head bob up and down, I was thinking, “Yeah, right.” I put her to bed as usual and stayed up late, waiting for her to wake up and cry at her usual times.

She didn’t.

The little stinker slept 12 hours. Without a peep.

The next night, I put Caedmon to bed in there with her, but had a similar chat with her. Again, she slept all night without crying, fussing, or waking up in the middle of the night.

It. was. a. miracle.

And not to jinx us, but the sleeping has been a ton better since we had that little talk.

But then night before last? I forgot to remind her about it. And she woke up several times. After which time I realized she’s cutting a 2-year molar. Stellar. I’m hoping that doesn’t completely throw us off our two-night streak.

If I’d known all it would take was a little heart-to-heart, I would’ve done it months ago. Now that we have a month or so left here, I’m really hoping it sticks.

Thoughts of Randomness

1. Time change. It has come. I love this time. Regular, plain ol’ “time.” Not “Daylight Saving” or anything special. My children…are still adjusting. Caedmon will be fine in a week or so, but Honor…poor Honor.

In her short little life, she’s been through more time changes than any person should. She was born in CST during DST. Then she moved to EST. And then Fell Back. Then Sprung Forward. Then moved back to CST. And then Fell Back again. She’s teething. And it’s time to transition to one nap.

Can someone please just shoot me now and get it over with?

2. We are hosting “Mancation 2012: The Revenge” this weekend. I called it the Second Annual Mancation the other day, incorrectly. Please excuse me. It will be another glorious weekend of Husband and his friends hanging out and doing whatever it is they have planned to do. At our little townhouse. Thankfully, the kids and I have a fun place to hang out with friends during most of the weekend. And we’re sad Joel can’t join this year, but I suppose being a newlywed is a good enough excuse.

3. Due to the Mancation festivities this weekend, I have been and will be, baking. PW’s Cinnamon Rolls are done. Next comes Red Velvet Cake Balls and whatever else I can manage to get done before they arrive. My family might not eat actual cooked dinners this week, but we’ll have Cinnamon Rolls and Cake Balls to keep us warm. Or, if Caedmon has his way, corn dogs for every meal. He should get something out of Mancation, right?

4. Remember when I said I was giving up on boots and swore off trying to ever find a pair I liked? I lied. Twice, apparently. It happens every year. I see people in cute boots and I want to be cute in boots too. It just isn’t happening. Oh, I’ve found some that I like. In theory, anyway. But the $300 price tag does not like me.

So I ran away like a wild woman left the kids with Husband on Saturday and went shopping for some boots. How did it go? I bought two Hallmark ornaments (for a Christmas tree we don’t have). Zero boots. It’s a vicious cycle.

5. On said shopping trip, I saw a police dog sniffing a car for drugs in the Target parking lot. It was interesting, to say the least. And I don’t want to be all profile-y or anything, but if I’d had to pick one car out of the whole parking lot that I thought might have the possibility of having drugs in it, I’d have picked that one.

6. Speaking of Christmas (#4), I have a slight dilemma. We got rid of our giant Christmas tree before we moved. We’ve wanted a new tree for several years. Ours was so huge at the bottom that we’d have to push it up against the wall and only put the front half of the branches on. Anyway, I’m not sure if I want to go ahead and buy a new tree this year, or just manage without. Or get a real one this year. Or get a little one that we can later put in the hallway upstairs or something. I’ve always wanted a little white one. Maybe this year?

7. I purposely put all of our Christmas stuff in storage. I knew we wouldn’t have a place for it at the townhouse, and if we don’t have a tree, most of it isn’t useful. However, I forgot that we’ll still need our stockings. I can do without a tree. Not stockings. And I’m not entirely sure I can get to them without taking half the stuff out of the storage unit. I’ll have to go see if I can manage to squeeze through and/or climb over some things. If you don’t hear from me again and you’re watching Storage Wars Nashville in a few years and they find a dead body stuck in the middle of a bunch of boxes clinging to a tub of Christmas stockings in a storage unit, it’s me.

8. Who’s watching Duck Dynasty? Anyone? C’mon. If you’re not, you’re missing out. It’s quite possibly my favorite show on TV right now. There are so many quotable lines in each episode, I can’t keep up. I’ve decided I want to make myself a t-shirt with one of my favorite quotes from Si. I haven’t quite figured out how to make that happen yet, but I will. Sara and I end up texting each other every Wednesday night while we watch. And last night I texted her because something popped into my head when I heard Husband say a random phrase. It’s a sickness, really. A delightful sickness.

9. I need to do a whole “homeschool” update, but I just want to say that Caedmon is doing well. We did take some time off during the move, so getting back into the groove has been a little bit of a challenge for us both. And I have realized that we need to slow down on learning new sounds until he has a few of them a bit more solidified. So we sat together the other day and he read a lot of words in The Cat in The Hat. Today we’re taking on Red Fish, Blue Fish. I love Dr. Seuss.

10. Oh, and Honor? She’s doing great in “school” too. She loves to sit and play with puzzles (i.e. chew on the pieces and yell when they don’t fit immediately) and is starting to color a little bit too. Well, not actually “color”, but use a crayon to make random marks on a piece of paper. That she loves and adores. And demands it be put on the refrigerator.

I just wish she had an opinion about things, you know?

11. Bonus! I love this Cheetos commercial. It makes me laugh every single time.

“On your way.”

The Best Laid Plans

I had great intentions of writing a post this morning. An actual post. With words strung together to form sentences, even. And then?

Then Caedmon woke up with a rash all over his face and neck. And the dog puked in the floor (thankfully, in the kitchen instead of on the carpet).

The words I had to say? They’re gone. They’ve been replaced with rubbing dirt (Redmond Clay) on a kid’s red bumps, washing sheets, pillows, and a Snoopy or two, and watching Oz to make sure he doesn’t yak again.

And caffeine. There may be an IV later if this keeps up.

But such is life. Maybe the words will come back. If not, I’ll have some rash-y pictures to show you. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

(This post in no way means that I’m unhappy or not thankful that I get to stay home with my kids and take care of rashes and dog vomit. But y’all know that already. Some days are just rash-y and puke-y.)

The Pictures…They Exist!

I’m trying to pick the camera back up on a regular basis. And you know what that means. You get pictures of things you never thought you cared about. And then you see the pictures and you still don’t care about them, but you’re nice enough to tilt your head and say, “Aw, those are cute.”

So here goes.

Prepare your head tilt now.

I recently instituted a “snack spot” for the kids. A place they can sit without having to be at the table to eat a snack. It keeps me from having to lock Honor up in her high chair all the time, and teaches her a bit of self-control. So far it’s going well.

Until she tries to steal Caedmon’s snacks. Definitely not using self-control.

Oh, you know, just hanging out with Dad and our semi-automatic toy handguns, waiting for Caedmon to come around the corner and assault us with his semi-automatic toy handgun. It’s quality time.

It’s been a while since we got the water table out, and the kids really enjoyed it the other day.

Honor figured out how to pour water on her head.

And then Caedmon figured out how to pour water on her head.

She liked it.

And of course, he poured water on his own head.

I love it when Caedmon and Honor just enjoy each other’s company, no matter what they happen to be doing at the time. It makes my Momma Heart happy.

I was in the kitchen yesterday, working on dinner. Honor was playing around/under the table in the breakfast area. I heard her squeal with delight and knew she’d done something. She had. She climbed up in the chair at the table all by herself. After she’s pulled her hair barrette out, of course.

To say she was pleased with herself would be an understatement. To say that I suddenly realized how many things she can now get to without assistance would also be an understatement.

This is our last “summer” weekend. Monday, we start school. Caedmon is excited. I’m excited. And still a bit overwhelmed, and hoping that my “system” will work. If my organizational system works, I can handle anything. If I have to re-work my organizational system, I can still handle it, it’ll just take while to feel like it.

If Life Was Like Cartoons

We watch cartoons. Some days, we watch many cartoons. Some days, we watch way too many cartoons. Caedmon loves cartoons. I love some of them. Others, I have a special place of loathing for in my heart don’t care for at all.

As I was watching cartoons with Caedmon the other morning, I began to wonder what things would be like if our life was actually like the cartoons we watch.

Special Agent Oso: I would constantly ask/allow my kid to try to do things he doesn’t know how to do, and leave him unattended with no instruction in how to complete the task. There would be a spying electronic ladybug in the house that watches for just that particular moment so it could report my horrible parenting to a stuffed bear. Creepy.

When said stuffed bear shows up in my house, instructing my child in how to accomplish a task he, himself doesn’t know how to do in three special steps, I would think nothing of it and leave them alone together. I wouldn’t hang around long enough to find out that my kid was smarter than the bear who was supposed to be helping him. Also? My kid would learn that mistakes are never to be admitted, but declared to be a “part of the plan.”

Can you tell I’m not a fan of the “unique, stuffed bear”?

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse: I don’t even know where to start with this one. I don’t understand how sometimes Pete and Willy the Giant are their friends and sometimes they’re not. I mean, how can you go from being afraid of a guy one episode to agreeing to feed his giant chickens the next? It just doesn’t make sense. They are not Junior High girls. If they were, it’s make total sense. Also, Toodles? Creeps me out a little. Even more so now that he has a face and talks. You’d think that would make things better. It didn’t. And just once, I want the Mystery Mouseketool to be something completely, utterly useless. Because that’s exactly how things work at our house some days.

Max and Ruby: Apparently, if our life were like this one, I wouldn’t be present. Or possibly even exist. My kid would also only say one word a day. And the obsession with bunny scouts would drive me insane. If, you know, I existed. And I’d have to tell Mrs. H to give the baby a name already.

Jake and the Neverland Pirates: Again, I wouldn’t even exist. But I have to wonder about a grown man who is constantly outwitted by three children.

Curious George: I’ve watched a lot of Curious George in my day. And I’ve yet to figure out what The Man With the Yellow Hat actually does. But George? He does whatever he wants. Sometimes I actually do feel like the Yellow Hat Man – always busy but never actually doing anything. And I also feel as though my kids might as well be speaking monkey for all the good our communication does some days.

Kick Buttowski: First, I’d have to change my name. And not allow my son to be called “Kick” when I named him Clarence. Also, I’d wonder why I named my kid “Clarence.” And make him wear something besides a white jumpsuit and helmet. Also? I’d make Brad take a shower.

Phineas and Ferb: Quite possibly my favorite cartoon on TV. And as the Mom, I’d always have plausible deniability. Which is important. Because, you know, one of those plans might backfire one day. And I’d make a lot of pie and have lots of extracurricular activities. Also, I don’t think Oz could handle the secret agent gig. It would cut into his sleeping time too much.

If our life were turned into a cartoon, it’d be pretty boring. Cereal bar or banana and Cheerios for breakfast? Grocery shopping. Vacuum and dust. Fold laundry. Naptime. Roomtime.  Lunch. Play outside. Get the mail. Watch cartoons. I suppose it’s a good thing we can live vicariously through our animated friends. I don’t think we could take the excitement.

Dr. Internet

We have another case of the sickies at our house. I have been trying to figure this out for months, but I don’t seem to be getting anywhere.

Here’s the deal. Since last September (so, for almost a year), Caedmon has been getting sick every 6-8 weeks. The first time, we *think* he had strep. The reason we *think* and don’t know, is because when I took him to the doctor, they just diagnosed him with strep and didn’t actually do a strep test because they didn’t want to “freak him out.” I asked to go ahead and do one so we’d know for sure, and they just thought it was best not to. Riiight. Even after being put on antibiotics, he ran fever for a week. So I took him back to the doctor, where they changed their minds and said he didn’t have strep, or maybe he did, but he had something else, too. Whatever.

But since that time, every 6-8 weeks, Caedmon’s been getting sick. Nothing crazy. Fever, sometimes swollen tonsils (usually the 2nd day of fever), sometimes white gunk on his tonsils, sometimes not. Sometimes a stomach ache, sometimes not. Usually bloodshot and tired eyes. (Who wouldn’t have that with fever?) The only constant is fever for 3-7 days that starts low, goes up and down on its own, and usually maxes out around 102-103. And he doesn’t always feel bad. Sometimes he’ll have 100.4 and feel lousy, but later have 102 and feel fine. It’s craziness.

So, no, I haven’t taken him to the doctor every time he’s been sick. I figured after the strep/not strep/virus thing, we’d just save that co-pay and ride it out unless it became more complicated. And it mostly hasn’t.

But last time he got sick, in May, I took him to the doctor. We were getting ready to travel, and I was tired of whatever this is that keeps rearing its ugly head. So the (new) doctor did a strep test and throat culture. Nothing. We treated it as viral and, as usual, he got better on his own in a few days.

Listen, the boy is on good, high quality (expensive!) multi-vitamins, extra vitamin C, and omega 3’s. We eat pretty healthy, and through all of this, nobody else has gotten sick. And he doesn’t get whatever’s “going around” at any given time, either. This past winter, I think just about every household we know was hit by the stomach bug at least once. But we didn’t get it. He’s not even had so much as a cold besides this crazy stuff. (I’m furiously knocking on wood over here.)

I have no idea what is causing this mess. We’ve bought new toothbrushes, washed his sheets in hot water, even disinfected his pillow and mattress. We’ve been to the dentist and had his teeth checked. There’s no connection I can find to anything. Still, he gets sick every 6-8 weeks. I can almost mark it on my calendar.

So, we spent the weekend with a feverish boy who sometimes felt decent and sometimes felt lousy. And a little sister who is still working on pushing some molars through her poor, poor gums. And a Momma that was about to go just a little nuts. Because you know what my kids don’t do well when they feel lousy? Sleep.

Honor sleeps great at night, but started shorting her naps as soon as Caedmon got sick, which coincided with her second (or third? I lost count) molar beginning to actually push through the gums. Caedmon…just doesn’t sleep well at all. And when he feels bad, it’s even worse. Friday night we were up for at least two hours in the middle of the night – I quit checking the clock. It was depressing. And after he had a bad dream Saturday night, I spent almost as much time in his bed with him as I did my own.

But you know I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Well, I would definitely trade the sickness. That stuff can go jump off a cliff. But I love that I get to snuggle with them and be here for them when they don’t feel good. I love that Husband works hard to provide for us so that I can stay home with these kids – whether they’re sick or not – and at times like this weekend, just be Momma and not worry about anything else. It’s the best job in the world, and one I hope I never take for granted.

But really, if anybody knows what strange germ might be bothering my kid, let me know. I’d like to punch it in the throat.

Mother’s Day Weekend Recap

I decided not to worry about writing a blog post on Sunday night because I’d have a chance to write one yesterday morning. And then yesterday happened. And a blog post did not.

As per our usual tradition, we did most of our Mother’s Day celebration on Saturday. But first, we wished Uncle HLB a happy birthday and Aunt Trump a happy (college) graduation day.

The guys went out to do a little shopping, and Honor and I did, too. I finally got an outfit for her 1 year photos. I know y’all were concerned about that. You’ll be glad to know that I found a super cute outfit and it was the last one in her size within about a million miles of here. Well, not exactly, but after all the searching I did to find it, it felt that way.

While Honor and I came home with clothes, the boys came home with Mother’s Day goodies. Caedmon picked out chocolate-covered strawberries for me. Husband tried to talk him into something different, but Caedmon was adamant that he wanted to get me the strawberries. And he made a good choice. They were yummy!

My strawberries came with a gift certificate to a spa, which will be thoroughly enjoyed and is much appreciated. I do like the idea of a special day to celebrate Moms, but the rewards of being a Mom could never fit into one day. It’s nice to try, though.

After naptime, we headed to Eli’s birthday party, where the kids got to be rock stars. I think you can tell that Caedmon enjoyed himself.

He’s still talking about playing the real drums.

Honor got busy on the mic, too.

Sunday, I think we were all thinking we’d have a relaxing afternoon. Well, Husband and I were thinking that. I have no idea what the kids were thinking, but I’m pretty sure things didn’t turn out the way any of us were hoping. By the time we got home from church, Caedmon had a fever and wasn’t feeling well. Knowing what the week held, and knowing that I’d have to take him to the doctor on Monday, I left the kids with Husband and went to get groceries. On Sunday. Mother’s Day Sunday. In the rain.

Yeah, it was as glamorous as it sounds.

Also? Honor was in the “I’m not happy if you’re not holding me” zone and took a nap that was way too short for her attitude. It was wonderful all around.

Husband had already planned to take me out to dinner, but with a sick boy, our options were limited. That was ok though, because I was all about some pizza. And not just any pizza. This one. With, you know, vegetables on it and everything.

It was good.

All week, I’d planned on making the Gooey Chocolate Skillet Cake my friend Angela tweeted about. And even though the day had been not perfect and not exactly what I had planned, it was ok. Because sometimes that’s what Motherhood is all about. That, and being able to make a chocolate cake just because you can. And homemade ice cream.

It was sooo good.

We enjoyed our chocolate cake with homemade ice cream and caramel sauce, then watched The Celebrity Apprentice. It was a good end to the day.

And then Monday came.

Caedmon still had fever and ick. We went to see Dr. D, where she swabbed his throat and gave him the prescription of lots of fluids, rest, and a movie day. Or two or three. On the way home, he asked if he could watch a movie before lunchtime (because I usually don’t let him), and if I would make popcorn for him. I told him he could, and I would. I also asked him if he was glad Dr. D had told him to watch a movie, and he replied, “Yes! And I always do what the doctor tells me to.”

Good to know.

Too bad she didn’t specifically tell him to take a nap, because he completely skipped that yesterday. Even after telling me how tired he was, especially if I had the nerve to suggest that he do, you know, anything.

Honor was happy for a while, then was replaced by the baby who needs to be held constantly. I don’t know where that baby comes from, but she’s not welcome here. I need my happy baby back.

To kill time late in the afternoon, I put Honor in the bath tub. I figured my little water baby would enjoy herself a bit and, if nothing else, I could put her down without her yelling at me. And she did enjoy herself. Until she pooped in the tub. Yeah. She began screaming again – mainly because she didn’t want to get out of the water.

So while I cleaned the tub and Honor watched from behind the gate in her room like a little caged animal, Caedmon had a meltdown because he couldn’t get his Spiderman action figure to stand on its own.

It was at that point that I made a plan to finish off the last of that chocolate cake. All by myself.

I also had the thought, “This is really what motherhood is all about.” Not in a bad way, though. The Hallmark commercials (and even the Olympics commercials that are playing now) would have you believe that while you may get up at dark-thirty to take your kid to some sort of practice or have your living room used as a gym, Moms still look (and feel) put-together and don’t have dark circles under their eyes or sometimes think the grocery trip they just had with the kids might push them over the edge of insanity and could certainly get them banned from public places.

Motherhood is dirty, tiring, unglamorous, and the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.

There was a time in my life that I wondered if I’d ever get to be a Mom. My heart aches for women who are wondering the same thing right now, especially when we have a day to celebrate what they long for. For one reason or other, God’s plan for motherhood is different and harder fought for some. I don’t know why.

I just know that even when I am in the midst of cleaning a poopy tub, being screamed at by a little person who’s angry about being locked in her room, and listening to a non-standing action figure meltdown, life is good.

And Now It’s Time For Logic, with Your Host, Caedmon

Caedmon is such a logical, detailed-thinking kid. It catches me by surprise more often than not. I don’t know why. I should be used to it by now. But I’m not.

The other night at Chick-fil-A’s Mother-Son Date Knight, I was asking him the “Would You Rather” questions they provided on our placemats.

I told him I was going to ask some fun, silly questions and he said he was ready. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: “Would you rather have super strength or the ability to fly?”

Caedmon: “But where would I fly? How would I fly? In a plane?”

Me: “No, you’d just be able to fly by yourself. Would you want to do that or be super strong?”

Caedmon: “But I’m already strong. See my muscles?” (He flexes and shows me his muscles and asks me to feel them, so I do.) “A person can’t fly by themselves anyway.”

Me: “It would be like a super hero. Fly or strong?”

Caedmon: “I am strong, and you can’t fly by yourself!”

I shook my head. And I should’ve just given up. But I thought maybe he’d figure this thing out, so I continued.

Me: “Would you rather be a spider for a week or an elephant for a year?”

Caedmon: “Do you mean like Spiderman?”

Me: “No, just a regular spider. Would you want to be a spider for a little time or an elephant for a long time?”

Caedmon: “Where would I live? We don’t like spiders in our house. And elephants live at the zoo.”

Me: “If you could still live with Momma and Daddy and we wouldn’t squash you or anything. Which one would you like to be?”

Caedmon: “Where do elephants live for real? I mean not at the zoo.”

Me: “In Africa or Asia. Would you want to be an elephant?”

Caedmon: “Where is Africa and Asia? Are they far far far far far away? How many days would it take to get there? Would we have to fly on an airplane?”

Me: (Sigh.) “Africa and Asia are across the ocean. It’d take a long, long time to get there, and yes, you’d probably have to go on an airplane. Did you decide? Would you want to be a spider or an elephant?”

Caedmon: “I don’t want to be either one. I’m a boy. I just want to be a boy.”

Ok. Second question was a bust. Too abstract, maybe. I’m a glutton for punishment, so I moved on to the third. Deep breath.

Me: “Would you rather give up candy or ice cream forever?

Caedmon: “What do you mean? Give it to who?”

Me: “I mean give it up. As in never eat it again.”

Caedmon: Starting to get frazzled, “But I LIKE candy and ice cream! I want to eat them both!”

Me: “I know. But if you could only have one of them ever, which would you want to have?”

Caedmon: “But why can’t I have both? Why do I have to give one up?”

Me: “Nevermind.”

Again, I explained that these were fun questions that we could pretend with. And they didn’t have to be real. We could just say what we thought would be fun. He said he understood. And because I’m an idiot, I asked him the fourth question.

Me: “Would you rather live on the moon or underwater in the ocean?”

Caedmon: “We can’t live on the moon. And we can’t breathe under water.”

Me: “I know. But let’s pretend that you could live one of those places. Where would you want to be? On the moon where you could see the earth and the stars, or under the water, where you could see fish and stuff?”

Caedmon: “But you have to live in a house. There’s no houses there.”

Me: (Wishing I could bang my head on the table.) “Pretend there’s a house there. You could live in a house. Moon or ocean?”

Caedmon: “None of those places! I want to live in a house. Just a regular house.”

Me: “Ok, you can live in a regular house.”

I didn’t even try the last question. I’d learned my lesson…finally. But maybe not, because I’m going to ask you.

Would you rather wear a clown nose or clown shoes to school/work?

Survival

I promised myself that I was going to sit down and write a blog post for today. A real one. And then? Yesterday happened.

Yesterday was the first day in about two weeks that we didn’t have any obligations – nowhere we had to be, nothing we had to get done. I was looking forward to a relaxed pajama day that we could spend at home - playing, giggling, frolicking in the backyard, you know, all those things people do in slow-motion sequences on TV. But it was not to be.

After a fitful night of sleep (for me), Honor woke up at 5:30am, which isn’t normal for her. After attempting (and failing miserably) to get her to go back to bed, I rocked her back to sleep. She slept. I didn’t. And because I had to sit upright and keep rocking so she wouldn’t try to bounce herself up and down (yes, it’s weird), I ended up with a lovely crick in my neck.

I feel like Zoolander. I can’t go left.

I thought maybe once she fell asleep and was out like a light, she might sleep a bit later than normal. Wrong. At exactly 7:30am, her eyes popped open. And she was rolling.

And so we rolled. It wasn’t pretty. But we rolled.

I had hoped that the morning nap would help us all. It didn’t. Neither did the afternoon nap. Honor spent much of her awake time unhappy. Poor Caedmon seemed to be continuously doing something to get himself into trouble. And any mercy I had was gone before the first sip of caffeine hit my bloodstream. I needed an IV, not a 16 ounce mug.

Yesterday was one of those days that I know happen, but that doesn’t make them easier when they do. Some days are just about survival.

And since I survived, I consider that a win.

Two Kids, One Mom

When we found out our first baby was a boy, I thought to myself, “I got this.” I grew up with boys. I had as many (or more) guy friends in high school as I did girl friends. I had no use for all the girl drama (still don’t), and have always felt more comfortable in a room full of guys than in a room full of girls. Psychoanalyze that.

Caedmon and I settled into our boy/Mom relationship quite well. I could hang with him smashing bugs or chasing frogs. Learning to burp like a pro? I’m down with that. Sword fights, Hot Wheels, and commando-jumping off the couch became a part of our everyday lives.

When we found out our second baby was a girl, I was excited. But I knew I had no idea what I was doing with a girl. I still don’t.

When Honor was born, she fit seamlessly into our family. It really wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. It’s like she always belonged, we were just waiting for her to show up. And the first few months were challenging just because of the demands of a newborn, but in reality, I think it was not as bad as it could’ve been.

I thought I had the “boy mom” thing kinda figured out. Not that I ever really had things figured out. Because I didn’t. I don’t.

Caedmon is sweet. Happy. Loving. Sensitive. Inquisitive. Busy. Detailed. Noisy. Action-loving and definitely a boy.

Learning to be a “girl mom” has been challenging already. And Honor doesn’t even talk yet.

It’s not just the difference in outfits. Or the accessories (although those are huge challenges for me). She’s sweet. Happy. Loving. Sensitive. Curious. Content. Quiet (unless she’s upset). Delicate and tough at the same time. Definitely a girl.

Even in their similar characteristics, Caedmon and Honor are very different. Part of it has to do with being a boy or girl. Part of it with their birth order. And part of it with their individual personalities. But I’m just one Mom.  

It’s amazing to me how God gives the same two people children that are very different.

I am incredibly blessed to be a Mom. Not once, but twice.

I am not perfect. Neither are my kids.

My responsibility to them goes far above trying to be a good Mom. (I’m not even going to discuss the practical side of things here, because, well, whoa.) God has entrusted these kids to Husband and me. And as Mom, I share the responsibility of not only teaching them to be productive members of society (aka not morons), but teaching them about Jesus and His love for them.

It’s a challenging balance to try to strike, being Mom to both of these precious, sweet little kids that are alike but different. I am who I am, and that’s never going to change. I know God knows what He’s doing, and I pray daily that I am the Mom they need.

New Shoes (Also Why We Can Never Have A Hamster)

Caedmon and I went on a little lunch date/shopping trip the other day.

We hit Chick-fil-A for lunch…

…before heading to shop for some new flip flops.

Here’s the deal. Caedmon’s worn the same pair of flip flops for two years. I bought them a bit large because I wanted him to be able to wear them all summer. I must’ve gotten them at the exact right time, because his feet didn’t grow much from one summer to the next and he wore them again this past summer.

But now? His toes are hanging off the end. And he has worn those things all winter, causing people in Walmart to have serious doubts about my skills as a Mother. Or the availability of closed-toed shoes.

When I cleaned out Caedmon’s closet a couple of weeks ago and got some new things out for him (including a new pair of rubber flip flops), I tried to get him to toss the old flip flops. Little did I know he’d developed an emotional attachment to those little flip flops. He cried.

Good grief. If the kid is this attached to a pair of cheap flip flops, it’s a good indication of what would happen if he ever had to bury a small rodent in a shoebox in the back yard. (Yet another reason I have a “no rodents, no reptiles” rule.)

So I caved and told him he could keep them until we bought new (“nice”) flip flops. But I made him promise that he’d happily throw them away as soon as we brought the new flip flops home. He agreed.

Caedmon was so happy to choose his new flip flops. We got home with new ones and before I’d let him take them to his room, the old ones had to go. We had a moment to say goodbye.

And in they went.

Guess what Caedmon’s new flip flops look like. Yep, almost identical to the old ones.

He’s already breaking them in. And I’m sure we’ll see a lot of these this summer.