"That's Not Food!"

Right before kindergarten ended, Andy's front tooth got wobbly.  "He's going to lose it today or tomorrow!" I whisper-yelled on the phone to Chris.  "Print out this official tooth fairy certificate I'm sending you. How many singles do you have in your wallet?  I've heard that some parents use glitter.  Crap!  We're out of glitter!  Do you think it would be weird to use elbow macaroni instead?" Flash forward to today, Andy's first day of first grade.  He flashed a winning smile on this day for his First Day of School picture, and the smile contained all of his teeth.  Honestly, it looked like he might have even grown an extra baby tooth or two in the last twelve weeks.  He certainly didn't loose that one tooth that is still hanging in there.  Today, I came across the wrinkled up tooth fairy certificate in my desk and just threw it away.  I've watched Andy carefully bite into sandwiches without using that one wiggly tooth.  I...

I took Andy and Alex in for their annual physicals last week.  This is one of those times when I have to huddle all three kids together and explain how very important good behavior is.  "Pediatricians and DCFS are tight, like this," I say, illustrating with my crossed fingers.  "So best behavior so Mommy doesn't get sweaty and screamy." "But, Alex bit my finger," Andy replied, referencing the current reason why everybody was exhibiting not-so-good behavior. "Did you stick your finger in his mouth?" No reply. "Okay, let's roll then.  Game faces!" I exaggerate a little, of course.  I haven't had the DCFS talk in at least a month!  The thing about our behavior, collectively, is that it hasn't been all that bad.  Alex breaking his arm may have been the very best thing for the boys, as it seemed to scare them straight.  Emily is still very much a wild card, but she is agreeable, as she answers a very sweet "Yea...

Alex is turning four in less than a week!  He will accomplish this task with the use of only one arm and hand as he has broken his left elbow and will need to spend the first half of the summer in a heavy blue cast. Of course it's Alex who is the first to break a bone.  This is the kid who is perpetually covered in bumps, scabs, and band-aids, the only one to ever be rushed to the ER due to a bleeding head wound, and the only one to ever undergo surgery (granted, the anal fistula wasn't really his fault- or was it?). It is Alex, the one Chris and I are constantly telling to "Stop bumbling around!"  He is so clumsy, so stupidly fearless, so full of tangible mischief that manifests into injury and/or broken items. I hate that I have issued a warning to these boys for the past three years that has now come true.  "Stop fooling around because if you break your arm you'll have the worst summer ever!  No swimming, no bike riding, no JOY."  And now we are l...

I was in softball when I was a kid.  It didn't go well.  I am sure this memory isn't accurate- at least I hope this memory isn't accurate- but when the coach (ie, unqualified parent volunteer) handed out awards at the end of the season (six random weeks), I strongly recall my award saying "Nice Try."  Like, at least you showed up.  Congratulations for not being late to the games.  You suck, though. Seriously.  Don't darken this field with your clumsy hands again. There's some mumbling about Chris having played baseball as a kid.  I think he may have hated it.  Or loved it but wasn't good.  Or was really good but got atomic wedgies while waiting for his at bat.  Something about his baseball career wasn't illustrious, I just can't remember what.  But baseball (or softball), it's just one of those rites of passage in the childhood tunnel to early adulthood.  It's between getting told there are starving children in Africa and g...

Emily is turning one on Friday!  This is where I lament the speedy passing of time, as I utter aloud a disbelief in the time space continuum.  Her birthday follows Andy's last day of kindergarten and Alex's last day of three year old preschool.  It's going to be an emotional 48 hours (followed by a long summer of splitting up fighting children). Who is this Emily girl at twelve months old?  Well, her likes include Italian food, wood chips, banging at my computer keyboard, patty-cake, and waving hello and good-bye backwards. She walked earlier than her two brothers, starting off her 11 month birthday by taking a few tentative steps and almost running just under a month later.  She is attracted to danger and will eagerly climb the stairs and express an ill-placed confidence in being able to navigate going down the stairs (or up the bunk bed ladder). Emily adores her big brothers.  She is perfectly content just to be near them, and she seems to save her bi...

"When I'm wiggling, I'm happy."  If Alex had a car, this would be his bumper sticker.  He'd probably have a lot of bumper stickers, actually, all carefully but crookedly affixed.  "I Brake For Egg Videos," perhaps.  "My Monkey Is On The Honor Roll at Bunk Bed University."  "Honk If You Love Fruit Snacks."  And then "John Kerry For President" because obviously Alex couldn't afford a brand new car. We're not made of money over here. But what does "When I'm wiggling, I'm happy" mean?  Well, that's Alex's go to reply when I see him writhing and shaking and jumping and squirming all over the place.  These jerky motions are a clear indication to the casual observer that Alex desperately needs to pee.  That his bladder has gone past the point of being comfortably full and is now completely stretched out like a water balloon ready to explode and soak everything within a five yard radius.  Grab you...

I was flying down the water slide in a double inner tube, holding tenuously on to Alex with my feet. "Hang on, Alex!" I yelled as we rushed into a pitch black tunnel, rocking and slipping forward, left, right.  Frankly, I was mildly terrified.  I couldn't see anything, we were going fast, I had very little faith in Alex not flopping out of his half of the inner tube, and water was getting in my eyes.  I hate water in my eyes.  Alas, we splashed down somewhat safely into the awaiting pool at the water slide's conclusion.  "Can we go again?"  Alex squealed instantly, before I had a chance to blink my contact lenses back into place.  Stupid water in the eyes.  How come grown-ups wear goggles to go scuba diving but not to play in some slide sprinklers and four feet of water?  The struggle is still real no matter what the depth. Alex and I (and Andy and I) hit the mildly terrifying water slides over a dozen times.  Andy, strapped snug into ...