A Good Mum makes life easier, with this handy mumber number!
1 Number of goals Edward got in his soccer scrimmage game tonight!
Me: “So how was Cardinal Coach Kelly?” I ask, since, after the day we had today, (I’ll post later), I needed to stay home with the other two and stare blankly at the ceiling.
Edward: “She’s not literally a bird, Mom, she’s only figuratively a ‘cardinal coach.’ That’s something you need to understand, Mom.”
7 Number of times Swiffer and Mr. Mop were discussed, pontificated upon, queried about, etc., today alone.
Edward: “Why does Mr. Mop always fail? Why Mom? Why does he have all these hairs stuck to him? Why? Let’s compare the two like the commercial! Won’t that be fun? Don’t you want to do that right now, Mom? Let’s do it now, shall we? I think that’s such a good idea, don’t you, Mom? Go find the Mr. Mop you have, Mom, and I’ll find the Swiffer and we’ll do it right now! It’s time to find out for ourselves what the truth is! You go, please, go now, and get that Mr. Mop! I’m looking forward to doing this, aren’t you? Don’t you think it will be the greatest thing to see? I know it’s time to eat dinner but I believe this is more important, don’t you Mom?”
1 Number of Lhasa Apso pups I almost hit in the road today, scooped up from near-death, took home, allowed to tee-tee on my rug, found the owner for. Of course there’s more but I’m still processing it all…
2 Number of Lean Shakes I drank today in my weight-loss yearnings.
5 Number of Bagel Bites I consumed, thereby canceling out the “lean-ness” of the shakes.
4 Number of consecutive days Edward has worn his Upward soccer uniform 24/7. The reversible nature of the shirt is perfect for E. Ketchup smear on the blue “cardinal” side? Simply switch over to the gray “cardinal” image! Your undershirt will soak up the remaining ketchup, keeping your chest clean and dry!
$14.96 Actual amount Edward charged to my cell phone in downloaded games. (The bill came today.) Tonight he promised it would be more in the $9.00 range soon since he has another tooth that’s ready to fly and that should earn him a “cool $5.00″ from “that Fairy.” Sounds a bit like entitlement to me. If I were Edward, I’d be concerned the “Fairy” might change her offerings in the wake of the economic downturn…
2,507 Number of gallons of old pool water our grocery-store-chain-owning, horse breeding “top neighbors” on the hill drained into our yard, leaving it a festering, mudboggy swamp, before realizing their pool pump line was broken. I’m contemplating calling them tomorrow to see if one of their “yard men,” (I did say men), can come and sop up some of the watery sludge my children are splashing about every time they try to walk Sophie, or trudge to the trampoline, or dig up grubs, or whatever else they do in the back yard. I need these children to be in the back yard. For long periods of time. Perhaps my “top neighbor” can send her maid on down with a Swiffer or Mr. Mop to swab my floors?
I know the view down into my yard from her pool deck isn’t the most inviting, but I’m fairly confident we could drag out even more Little Tikes toys and render it more tempting. Her darlings are always clamoring to climb the fence into our yard. Wouldn’t you?
Edward on Swiffer:
“Why won’t that mop leave that lady alone? I think if I were that mop, I’d find me a new lady–one that didn’t have a mop and had never even heard of ‘Swiffer.’
“Do you think that mop is in ‘puppy love’ with that lady?”
This is the Un Mom‘s creation and if you haven’t done it, you should start!
* I found a carton of Eggbeaters in my fridge a few minutes ago. From November 2008. Do you think it’s spoiled?
* Edward is playing Upward Soccer for the first time, proudly expounding to anyone who will listen that his team is the Cardinals. Trouble ensued, however, yesterday when he received his blue uniform because all the Upward uniforms are identical. “Coach Kelly, Cardinal Coach Kelly, there are no blue cardinals. I think we have the wrong uniform. The cardinal bird is a bright red, Cardinal Coach Kelly! Red, I tell you!” Here’s what I wrote on his application form: We need the most patient coach you have, please. And Cardinal Coach Kelly is amazingly patient…so far.
* Although it’s early for the season and I haven’t been in any woods, I have contracted a huge ‘swok’ of poison ivy on my forearm. How could this happen?
* I haven’t adjusted to my hair but I’m still living up to the purse. A friend had to go get the purse for me at the ball park Saturday because my children had to visit the squatty potty four times during an hour-and-a-half baseball game. As she hefted it up, she described it as a “suitcase.” I was a bit miffed until she began rifling around in it and pulled out an entire bottle of organic ketchup. After two hours of sport, I finally set up shop on the bleachers with the ketchup, three orders of french fries and a pump bottle of hand gel. This enabled me to watch the game for five minutes.
* Edward downloaded $21.00 worth of games to my cell phone before I realized his new-found skills. (Ignore my own inability to download new ring tones.) Now he clutches my cell phone in one hand and a ketchupy french fry in the other while swigging a Sprite and pretending to watch his brother’s baseball game.
* If I made an omlette with those Eggbeaters, how many of you would try it and why?
Chickie Kia created this graphical wonder. Edward Tufte, beware! Apparently one is supposed to link numbers to life events. Sounds manageable, right? Do join Kia in this endeavor if you dare!
1 = Number of toes I broke today running from the shower into the kitchen and tripping over a mangled ‘youth’ guitar after hearing a ‘sonic boom’ type sound and fearing errant nuclear wrath. It was only the aftermath of a local air show.
13 = Loads of laundry I have done today in the wake of puppy pee towels and baseball clothing.
6 = Number of ‘swear words’ I have had to explain to my 9-year-old since baseball season began. “Mama, there’s a ‘D-word’ that’s really, really bad and it’s not the one that comes from the Bible. I believe it rhymes with ‘sick.’ What’s that word mean?”
4 = Times I’ve had to explain to Edward why we don’t have an “Alice” who lives with us and does all our cooking and cleaning. (I borrowed a Brady Bunch compilation CD from our local library and now have a 7-year-old regularly using words like “groovy,” “heavy,” and “right on, man!” Today he told me, “You’re kind of like Carol Brady but also a lot like Alice except you’re not quite that old and don’t have your own room.” )
6 = Number of children at my house Thursday morning through lunch. One of the three-year-olds stomped barefooted all over Joseph’s pastel masterpiece and tramped footprints all over my semi-clean rug and couch. She then rubbed brownish organic diaper cream all over a borrowed smocked dress. (Sorry Ashley!) My daughter and her friend decided the best use of their time, (while I was discussing our wretched Internet connectivity with the cable man), would be to don Easter dresses, whip out the hose and play in the muddy back yard with the puppy whom they then let in the house.
8 = Number of poultices and tinctures I’ve concocted in an attempt to rid the smocked dress of the organic diaper cream.
3 = Number of stains that remain.
2 = Pounds I have lost in the past 10 days using these wretched “Lean Shakes” that are guaranteed to shed 7 lbs per week. I’ve found no conceivable way to mix the powder into milk since Joseph accidentally shattered my blender. The crunchy, chalky, milky substance renders me slightly nauseous. Perhaps that’s the weight-loss raison d’etre?
170 = Number of times I’ve prayed Psalm 91:11 over my energetic, accident-prone Edward.
700 = Number of times God has protected this wreckless creature from certain peril!
He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. Ps. 91:11
It’s been quite a while since Edward has reviewed any gluten and casein-free fare, but in his burgeoning desire to become “famous” he requested we do another review. We have enjoyed many products from Turtle Mountain, and highly recommend their offerings. These ice cream bar delicacies are completely gluten and casein-free. All three children wanted to try them as evidenced here:
The chocolate was rapidly picked off the coconut ice cream middle by all three children. Sue chose the coconut-almond variety which enabled her to gleefully spit tiny bits of nut and coconut all over the patio, much to the delight of an ant family.
Edward knew to steer clear of the nuts and opted for the plain chocolate. Whereas he thrilled to the chocolate coating, he found the ice cream middle to be, in his own words, “too, too sweet.”
From a child who raids the sugar bowl whenever it is in reach, I found this hard to fathom. I did taste the interior of the confection and while the texture was so similar to traditional ice cream, it was a tad on the sweet side.
Everyone seemed to agree on the extreme sweetness of the product, and this brought out the artist in Sue.
All in all, the chocolate coating was supreme but the ice cream interior was a bit much. We do love other Turtle Mountain products, however, particularly the Purely Decadent Cookie Dough ice cream!
(May God Bless You)
These things I warmly wish to you-
Someone to love
Some work to do
A bit o’ sun
A bit o’ cheer
And a guardian angel always near.
**My Internet Service Provider is falling down on the job terribly. I only have connectivity for 30 seconds or so at a time! Please forgive me for my inability to respond to comments or visit your blogs! They are supposed to come out Thursday to fix this. Agh!**
My brother, sister-in-law-to-be and nephew are in town so it’s been slightly crazy. They are having a secret wedding in a few weeks, so there’s a lot going on. Sorry I haven’t had time to respond to any comments but I’ll be back on track Wednesday. In the meantime, enjoy this!
Notice the glowing plastic wine glasses with 2% organic milk!
Why can’t life be this simple?
I was sitting in the kitchen with my coffee yesterday, having a rare quiet moment, when I heard the tell-tale “ka-chump-wump” followed by a searing screel. Edward shot in the kitchen, both hands clamped down firmly over his mouth, and began hopping up and down frantically.
I threw out my trademarked, “What-on-earth-happened-haven’t-I-told-you-all-not-to-run-in-the-house-why-can’t-you-all-just!” only to watch Edward open his mouth and emit a large pool of bloody gruel. Then, as fast as he opened it, he closes that mouth and, through bloody spittle, wails, “Ma teef! Ma teef! I think they’re gone!”
I jump down to his level, not too terribly panicked because I’ve dealt his 27 other bloody lips, a major tongue laceration, a torn frenulum, etc.
“You’ve got to let mama look!” I implore. “I’ve got to see what’s going on! I’m sure they’re not all gone!”
Then he begins this wild bloody spitting while hopping, clasping his mouth and moaning, “Ma mouf! Ma mouf!” Sophie, our five-month-old Boston terrier puppy, hurries over in some sort of blood lust and lunges at the collecting pools.
It’s hard to see what is actually going on, what with the hopping and spitting and such, but I do discern the absence of one big tooth and two cuts on the lips. I relax. We can handle this. The tooth was slightly loose, and, as I’ve explained before, he’s an early puller anyway.
Joseph and Sue finally run in breathlessly, feigning an air of concerned innocence. “We were, uh, playing and then he fell and I…”
I’ve seen this action before. “You were wrestling, weren’t you?”
“Yes, well, sort of. And my knee kind of knocked against his mouth and sort of, well…I think I might have knocked out some teeth.”
This comment brings Edward to certain level of acceptance and then a fresh concern, “OK but where’s my toof! Where is the toof! Don’t let it be like last time!”
Now I start to worry slightly that he’s actually swallowed the tooth.
“Joseph–run man! Go find that tooth!”
Joseph rushes away and is gone for a few long moments. I apply ice to the toothless mouth, sop up the floor and the child, and attempt a general calm-down. Joseph finally returns, a triumphant look on his face.
“I found it, I found it! It was stuck to the couch.”
Yes, well, that does make sense…
I settle Edward down with an organic high fructose corn syrup-free lemon ice to stop the bleeding, and we bag that tooth for the tooth fairy. Not two seconds after I have him settled, Sue runs in the kitchen, a crazed look on her face, her tiny deft fingers clutching something small and white.
“A tooth! A tooth! I found another tooth, Mama!”
Curled in her tiny palm is what, to the untrained canine dentistry eye, looks like a small, white puppy molar.
Joseph immediately begins to calculate: “Mom, do you think the tooth fairy can tell the difference between a child’s tooth and a dog tooth? I mean, do you think if we put that tooth under his pillow she would bring double the money?”
(Remember, this is a lad who rents wooden bats to naive friends at baseball camp, sells official “tadpole water,” trades worthless McDonald’s trinkets for $5.00 Bakugans, and generally considers himself some sort of Donald Trump of the nine-year-old set.)
“Well, I feel certain the tooth fairy is well-acquainted with the difference between human and canine teeth, but more importantly, do you think it would be honest to try to trick the tooth fairy into leaving something nobody deserves?”
Joseph looks down sheepishly…lesson learned.
And then everyone wants me to take pictures of their mouths!
I am 42. I guess we’ll see what happens in the next few weeks.
My cool friend Hopealso at Hippie Dippie Bebe tagged me a month ago for a “Seven Random Things” write-up. I’m so happy to be tagged by Hope because she is one of my very first bloggy friends, and was the first (and only) person to ‘Stumble’ me. (I didn’t know what it meant at the time, and I barely know now but it’s lovely and grand.)
Please check out Hope’s blog because she has tons of information on green parenting, nursing and attachment parenting. (She even makes her own organic butt paste!) In my town we would call her a “long-breastfeeding-artsy-type.” It’s a compliment, to be sure.
When I first moved to the small Southern town where I now dwell, I had two groups of friends: the “bobbed-hair-bottle-feeding-girls-whose-children-did-gymnastics” AND the “long-breast-feeding-artsy-types-whose-children-did-Music-Together.” I didn’t orchestrate this nomenclature; you can be certain my darling husband did. And, to make everyone feel less stressed, rest assured you can dwell in both groups at the same time. (I know I did, and still do.)
I digress. Most of you know I am all about rules and order. Yep.
Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog. (Wow, I never list rules. Will people revolt?)
Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog – some random, some weird. (The weird ones should be easy.)
Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog. (My, I’ve done this so many times, who should I choose? Who have I already chosen? Who cares?)
Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. (Nahhh, they can find it on their own, right?)
7 Facts About Myself
1. My mother once accidentally used my pumped breast milk on her All Bran. She didn’t find out what it was until after she had finished two fiber-filled bowls.
2. My breast milk always did look like skim milk.
3. Maybe that’s why my children all had issues gaining weight. Still I nursed them all until they were over a year old…the youngest one until she was 2 ½. She called nursing “nernie,” and recently asked me why her “nernies” weren’t as big as mine. Mine are only a largish A cup.
4. I used to pump every night at 10:00 p.m. while watching Law & Order reruns. One time when I was pumping, my husband interrupted me. I got mad because I missed the important “crime part” before the “cha-chung” sound on the show. He was interrupting me to let me know I had I forgotten to hook the tubes to the milk bottles. I had pumped a cup of milk into my comforter. I missed the entire episode changing the bed.
5. My 1985 Volkswagen Cabriolet Convertible was stolen in 1993 and torched as part of a gang initiation ceremony. I found this out because the “gang” was required to leave seven singed one-dollar bills in the back seat. They did. The only reclaimable item in my car was a Pyrex casserole dish, which remained unscathed. I still use that very same casserole dish to make “Cheeze Whiz Spaghetti” for “shut-ins”. Many times to start that car you had to hit the starter with a large slotted serving spoon. I kept the spoon in my car at all times. The spoon did not survive the fire.
6. I attend a wonderfully free-spirited Christian start-up church housed in a defunct Saturn dealership. Some of these people go to that church. Don’t they look cool? Which ones do you think are the “long-breast-feeding-artsy-types?”
7. My parents are horrified. (By the church, not the friends. Well, at least not by some of them…)
OK, who to tag? I have no idea. If you’d like to write about this and stay within the strange themes presented, please press on! If you’d like to write and want to orchestrate your own themes, please do so!
Many disparate events have collided in the past two weeks only to push me kicking and screaming to consider a topic that frankly infuses my veins with ice crystals: The Birds and The Bees.
I’ve conveniently viewed my need to address this issue as a lengthy, serpentine road whose end I didn’t have to see quite yet–after all my oldest child just turned nine. He spent yesterday with a friend catching green lizards activated finally by the 70-degree weather, finding various grubs and such to feed the creatures, holding Star Wars battles in the back yard and playing “Duck-Duck Goose” on the trampoline.
Why does he need to be faced with anything further than “good touch/bad touch?” Plus, he’s homeschooled. Doesn’t that protect him somewhat from this sort of thing?
Well, I was a bit freaked out last week when I had dinner with several girls from church and they began discussing their own 10-year-old girls’ burgeoning maturity. I was slack-jawed. I personally didn’t reach such maturity until my mid-teens, and while I had one friend who “blossomed” during 5th grade, she was the exception. I knew she was different because she wore a bra, but that was the extent of my understanding regarding her maturation.
My upbringing was “churchy” but not spirit-filled, and my parents told me nothing about the topic other than “DON’T DO IT!” In fact, the first time they warned me not to do it, I had no idea what they were talking about. I had to ask my mother what monthly accoutrements were for because I had seen them in friends’ purses and didn’t know why they would need such strange objects.
I learned the details in a shocking, frightening way by reading Judy Blume books, and I vowed then and there to share the truth with my own children so they would not have to find out in such a troubling way.
I was the girl who left for college knowing nothing, got a roommate who was on the Pill and got an such an earful the first two weeks I had to ask for a different room arrangement.
So the perfect storm of “birds and bees acknowledgment pressure” further roiled when another mother called to let me know a “friend of a friend” had been exposed to pornography while at another child’s house. The culprit? An unsupervised computer, of course.
This tender nine-year-old began having such anger outbursts and depression that his parents finally sent him to a psychologist who got to the bottom of the situation; the images this child saw disturbed him to such a degree that he is now profoundly depressed, his innocence cast into a fiery furnace for which no child is prepared.
I felt further nudgings through Stone Fox’s post on exploitation, Elaine’s recent thought–provoking posts on purity, and a frank conversation yesterday with Kim. I now find myself at a crossroads for which I was not prepared.
(Are we ever truly prepared for crossroads?)
From those who have traversed these waters before me, I welcome your insights, wisdom and experiences. For those whose children are still too young, I pray I do not cause fear and dread. And for those swirling along in these roiling waters beside me, I welcome your support and friendship. Shining the light on this topic can only serve to keep it in His Light where the enemy has a trying time with encroachment.
From all of you, I seek your prayers.