Nine Lessons I WANT My Kids to Learn From SpongeBob

In honor of the new SpongeBob movie, "Sponge Out of Water," I dug this post out of the archives. Ironically, it is my fifth most viewed post behind my one and only viral post, a post about sleep training my toddler, and this post and this post about my son's cancer. Now we know what's important to people. It was originally published two years ago this month. Enjoy!

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Ahh, SpongeBob SquarePants, the bane of most parents' existence. I knew nothing about this little show five years ago. I only knew that other parents hated it, and that it was TV Y7, so that was enough convincing I needed to never turn it on.

Enter, grandparents and babysitters. Yeah, what happens when Mommy and Daddy aren't home . . .well, pretty much screws up anything Mommy and Daddy have tried to do.

So, Slim kept asking me if we could watch SpongeBob, and I kept saying no. Then came the response, "But so-and-so let me watch it!"

Oh DID so-and-so now?

My excuse to him was, Oh, too bad, it's TV Y7. Maybe when he turned 7, I promised. He was four at the time, so I figured he would forget.

Oh no. The day he turned 7, he wanted to watch SpongeBob. And stupidly, I gave in. I mean, how could it be so bad? It had a catchy theme song, after all.

Honestly, I find almost all of the characters deplorable:

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Patrick Star=lazy, ignorant, slovenly, immature, clueless

Mr. Krabs=greedy, uncaring, shady business practices
Pearl=disrespectful, unconfident, bratty
Squidward Tentacles=arrogant, cold, unfeeling, bigoted
Plankton=thieving, conniving, selfish, Napoleon complex
Townspeople=rude, unfeeling, paranoid, sheep-like

The only other character that has any redeeming qualities at all is Sandy Cheeks. She is a karate chopping, rodeo riding, scientist who lives without fear or limits. She is the ultimate in girl power!

Except for the fact that she did call SpongeBob "Idiot Boy" once. Which, I guess, really does make her a true girl. <sad trombone>

However, a careful, two-year-long study of SpongeBob himself revealed something startling: SpongeBob actually has some qualities that I'd like my kids to emulate!

No, really, it's true. Here are the qualities my research has found to be acceptable:

1. Work ethic. SpongeBob is a fry cook at a greasy burger joint with a dishonest, slave driving boss, rude customers, and an insufferable co-worker. Yet, he loves going to work every day! There's something we don't have enough of - people who are willing to do sucky jobs and be happy about it. People who take pride in their work and who are willing to be "yes-men" with little to no recognition for the grunt work they do are in short supply these days.

2. Enthusiasm. Whether it is flipping crabby patties, jellyfishing, or digging a wishing well for Mr. Krabs and sitting in it all night long, SpongeBob does everything with the enthusiasm of a toddler at an all-you-can-eat Goldfish buffet.

3. Positive attitude. Along with his enthusiasm, SpongeBob's positive attitude goes a long way toward motivating his friends and the townsfolk. Who doesn't love to tune in on time to see yet another one of his passionately misguided motivational speeches?

4. Loyalty to his friends. No matter how many times Squidward tells SpongeBob to buzz off, SpongeBob keeps on keeping on the friendship train to Squidward town. In fact, he wants to please his friends so much, he once ran himself ragged while trying to plan Patrick's birthday party, help Sandy present her new scientific discovery to her colleagues, and help Mr. Krabs build a telescope. Who wouldn't love that kind of loyalty in a buddy?

5. Love of animals. SpongeBob is kind to all creatures. He adores his pet snail, Gary, and treats him better than most people treat their own children. But he has also gotten his heart wrapped up in jellyfish, a seahorse named Mystery, and a pregnant worm. Someone send this kid to veterinary school!

6. Imagination. This really has to be the little yellow quadrilateral's best quality. He and Patrick can make almost anything into a game, find fun in any task, and use their imaginations to keep them occupied all day long. They once played so vigorously with a plain cardboard box, that even the unflappable Squidward was motivated to find out what was inside. (Spoiler alert: nothing but their imaginations!)

7. Willingness to forgive and forget. Who else in the entire world could allow himself to be treated like a doormat by his friends, coworkers, boss, and townsfolk, and keep coming back for more? Ready? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS! That's who.

8. Ability laugh at himself. Laugh, and Bikini Bottom laughs with you. Cry, and they still laugh at you.

9. Determination. After all, jellyfish don't catch themselves.

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So the next time your kids are just begging to watch SpongeBob, don't be so quick to dismiss it as worthless, rude garbage.

After all, if Junior aspires to be a child-like adult working a minimum wage paying job while hanging out with losers who constantly degrade him, this is definitely the show for him!





*Please note: In this post I do not mean to degrade child-like adults or spongy yellow invertebrates. They are both lovely to know. And I really do think that the character of SpongeBob has some redeeming qualities. But then I realized how ridiculous that sounded.

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A Whole Different Ballgame or The Post in Which I Use the "V" Word ... A LOT

This is a repost of a conversation that I had with one of my sons last year. Thank goodness the subject hasn't come up again!

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I've never shied away from teaching my boys the correct terminology for their anatomy. They know they have a penis (or "peeNUS" as they all seem to call it) and they know what that hanging sack is called and that they will use it when they grow up (What? I'm not giving away the whole farm now!).

They even know that I have breasts, and I use them for feeding our babies. But when it comes to my nether regions - that's a whole different ballgame, people.

For years, I have dodged giving any specifics about my anatomy. I have been asked eleventy jillion times by little boys where my "peenus" is, and I have simply answered, "Girls don't have penises." Then come all manner of questions about how I pee and what do I have and so on. The term "vagina" may have come up once.

When I was pregnant with Lil' C, 4-year-old Joey would constantly ask me how he got in there and how he was going to get out. I would mumble something about how God and Daddy and Mommy all worked together to get him in and how the doctor was going to help me get him out. Thank goodness that was all he needed to hear at the time.

But when I was pregnant with Baby E, 6-year-old Knox was not going to be satisfied with these answers because he kept asking! So we had a talk about how the baby was going to come out of my vagina, and he basically said "Ewww" and went running.

So, the other day, I was in the bathroom with now 7-year-old Knox "checking" his bottom (his way of getting around the fact that Mommy is still actually "wiping" his bottom). He was playfully poking and punching me in the stomach when he went lower and punched my "hoo ha."

The following conversation ensued:

Me: Don't hit me there. That's not appropriate.

Knox: Why? What is it?

Me: That's my vagina.

Knox: What's a vagina?

Me: Well, boys have penises and girls have vaginas.

Knox: Oh . . .what's it made of?

Me: The same material as your penis, skin.

Knox: But I thought you said you didn't have a penis.

Me: I don't.

Knox: But you just said a vagina is like a penis.

Me: It's not.

Knox: Then what do you have?

Me: A vagina.

Knox: What's a vagina?

Me: It's what girls have instead of a penis.

Knox: But I thought you said you don't have a penis.

Me: I don't.

Knox: So what do you have?

Me: A vagina.

Knox: So what's a vagina?

Me: Who's on first?

Knox (shaking his head and walking out of the bathroom mumbling): What IS a vagina anyway?

Me (to myself): Whew, glad he gave up on that conversation first.

A 12-Step Plan for Surviving Weekly Mass with a Toddler

The squirming, the hitting, the running, the shouting, the laughing, the crying, the utterly chaotic activity confined to a three feet by one foot area. . .

Church-going parents will recognize that I'm talking about Sunday mass with a toddler. There is nothing that strikes fear in the minds of parents more than this hour of the week.

And yet we keep going. Something about atonement for one's sins or Catholic guilt or whatever.

The guilt is what keeps me going back week after week despite the fact that I haven't heard a word of the mass for the past nine and a half years (I didn't even know about the changes to the mass until last week!).

After one hour - just 60 minutes - of time spent confined to a pew with my toddler, I am left a harried, frazzled, mussed-up, nervous, mortified, embarrassed wreck.

Why? Because he runs out of the pew and attempts to ascend the altar no less than a dozen times per mass. He screams in a tone approaching that only dogs can hear approximately 32 times. He wants up and wants down every 2.3 seconds. And he breaks at least one piece of jewelry I am wearing or snags my outfit with his kicking feet.

This is the 2-year-old who is a sweet angel the other 167 hours of the week. But like clockwork, the minute we bow and enter that pew, the devil horns come out.

Always a woman with a plan, I've come up with a 12-step plan to make life easier for those 60 minutes a week.

1. Pack a drink and a snack. Not just any drink and snack, mind you - this has to be carefully considered. No crinkly bags to open, no bowls that can be dropped and spilled. Snacks must be placed in a plastic bag, or better yet, an environmentally friendly spill-proof snack container. And for the love of all that's holy, woman, bring the one sippy cup that doesn't leak!
2. Sit among other families with children. This is kind of a no-brainer. That way, you won't get the sideways head turn, glance-over-the-shoulder, judgy look. No one knows where the chaos is coming from. If a kid screams in a crowded area where other kids are screaming, and no one can tell whose kid it is, does she really make noise? Plus little kids are entertained by each other. That buys you at least an extra 6 minutes of quiet time.
3. Bring some quiet toys and books . . .because you know the snacks will be gone after the first two minutes. Markers and paper are probably a no-no (see: being "asked" to volunteer to clean the church pews), but a writing tablet would work. No books with paper pages that he can rip (like the missalette). Only sturdy board books, preferably with lift-the-flap pages to keep his hands busy. Matchbox cars make too much noise when being driven over the architecturally alluring stone floor. Choose cars with big, soft chunky wheels instead, like a monster truck. Your fellow worshipers will thank you.
4. Plan to get up at least twice - once for a potty break and once to take money up at the children's collection time.
5. Kick yourself for getting up at all. Now all she wants to do is GET OUT OF THE PEW! She had a taste of freedom, and she's not going back!
6. Utilize the grandparents behind you. Encourage him to smile, shake hands, and play peek-a-boo. This will last until the next prayer.
7. Continuously mouth "I'm sorry" to the bald man in front of you. Your toddler can't keep his hands to himself. His head is just so shiny and smooth.
8. Pick her up and let her play with your jewelry. You put on the cheapest, most interesting necklace you have. Let her play with it. You can always go back and get another one from the clearance rack when it breaks and falls into your rack..
9. Go stand with him in the back of the church. It's only a few minutes until communion. You can distract him by looking at the stained-glass windows. Ooo, pretty!
10. Communion time - chug that wine!  Does this one need an explanation? Only one more song until freedom!
11. Busy yourself by collecting all the snacks, sippy cups, books, and toys that you brought and are now scattered all over your pew and the four surrounding ones.
12. Run like hell after the final blessing. This way you will avoid all the pity comments from fellow worshippers such as, "Kid's a screamer, huh?" or "Rough morning?" and my personal favorite, "Enjoy it now because they grow so fast."

Hopefully with these tips, the worst hour of your week will be de-escalated to the status of every other chaotic, busy, adorably embarrassing hour of your week.

Bee Yew Tee Tea: Vocabulary Lessons From My Toddler

All of my boys have always been extremely verbal. They talked early and often, and  - I think - their speech was always very clear.

They talk so much, in fact, some days I wish everyone would just shut up for a minute so I can hear myself think.

Edgie, my two year old, is no exception. He is constantly talking, even when he is playing by himself.

I have always tried to teach my boys polite terminology. We say, "toot" instead of "fart" and "bottom" instead of "butt". Correct terms for all body parts replace made up or slang words. So they have a "penis" and not a "wiener" and "testicles" instead of "balls".

When riding in the car, we listen to kids' music or classical music so they don't pick up any words or slang terms that they have no business knowing (and I don't have to explain).

It's worked pretty well so far.

But damn the crude humor that comes with Nickelodeon and Disney XD shows and the little boys who think it's hilarious!

The other day, I overheard a conversation Edgie was having with himself while playing with cars. He was babbling, but I heard snippets of "Uncle Bob's boat" and "Okoboji water park".

And then, "Bee Yew Tee Tea."

"Did he just spell 'butt'?" asked Hubby.

"No," I said, "it had to be something else."

"Bee Yew Tee Tea, Bee Yew Tee Tea," sang Edgie.

"He's spelling 'butt,"" Hubby declared.

"Edgie's spelling 'BUTT'!" Explosive laughter from the other room. And then cute smiles and more laughter from Edgie and more, "Bee Yew Tee Tea."

The older boys now think it's hilarious to teach their two year old brother the crude words that they think are funny.

"Hey Edgie, is that your butt?" asks the 8-year-old, laughing.

"Do not teach him to say b-u-t-t!" I scold.

"Bee Yew Tee Tea, Bee Yew Tee Tea," sings Edgie.

"MOM! Don't teach Edgie to say BUTT!" the 9-year-old scolds.

My sister laughed at me last weekend when I saw her. She remembers how I wouldn't let her kids, who are much older than mine, call each other "buttheads" in front of my kids. So they jokingly called each other "bottomheads." I told her about Edgie's nightly ritual, which, as if on cue, he performed in front of her.

After his bath while getting his pajamas on, he pats his little boy package. "This my penis?" He asks.

"Yes it is," I answer knowing what the next question will be.

"What's this?" He asks, reaching around to his backside.

"It's your bottom," I say, bracing myself.

"No, it's my BUTT!" He says, giggling in his little toddler voice, and again, explosive big brother laughter from the next bedroom.

And thanks to the commercials for Kids Bop 729, he knows how to sing "Poppin' Tags," too. "This a feakin' awesome," he sings and giggles.

I'm just hoping that come fall, he won't be "that kid" at preschool who teaches all the other two year olds naughty words. If that happens, I think I'm going to be meeting a lot of the other moms rather quickly!

Have your kids picked up any words you don't want them to say? Please tell me yes.

What Does "I Love You" Mean Anyway?

The other morning, as Hubby was leaving for work, the three older boys yelled, "Love you, Dad!"

Then a little tiny 22-month-old voice parroted, "Wuv you, Dad!"

As cute as it was, I was incensed! My baby is supposed to tell me he loves me first!

I mean, c'mon, Dads get to hear "Dada" first (only because it's easier to say, right?). The least these children can do for all our hours of blood, sweat, and tears and all the times we wake in the wee hours of the night to comfort them is to tell us moms they love us before they say it to Dad.

Baby E is still little - not even two yet. I know he was just repeating what his brothers were saying. And I know there is plenty of time for him to express his undying love for me, his mom, the woman who gave birth to him.

The other night, as I was getting him dressed after his shower (cause, you know, he has to be like the big boys and shower), I did what I always do and illustrated what I was doing. "Ooo, you have cars on your jammies. Look, a green car. Vroom, vroom!"

"Mommy," Baby E broke in. "Mommy!"

"What Baby?"

"Mommy, I love you."

Oh mah gah, my heart melted, and I hugged that little toddler so tightly!

Never mind the fact that none of my other boys ever said 'I love you' that early. And especially never mind the fact that Baby E is so routine driven. Every night is the same thing: diaper, jammies, illustrate what we're doing, smell the toes to make sure they're clean (you know you do it, too), and say, "I love you so much Baby E."

If I skip a step, he lets me know - he'll pick his jammies, he'll get the diaper, he'll hold his feet in the air if I haven't smelled them yet.

And apparently that night, I didn't say 'I love you' quite quick enough.

Or maybe, he feels it, too. Maybe, I have finally raised a super sensitive, ahead of his age on every curve little man. Yep, that's gotta be it.

The next morning as I was cleaning the kitchen, Baby E had some toy cars next to his breakfast plate of bacon (Hubby's thing, not mine). I overheard him say, "I love you."

Oh, what a darling boy who worships his mom! I smiled and turned around ready to respond. Then, I saw that he had a piece of bacon in one hand and a car in the other, and he was looking at both with extreme fondness.

Oh well. Really, what does 'I love you' mean to a toddler anyway?

20 things your toddler wants you to know

Baby E turned 20 months this weekend. His language has simply exploded! It is so freaking cute to see him interact with us and hear what he has to say next.

Regardless of the language explosion though, there are still times that both of us get frustrated because he knows what he wants to say, and I guess at what he wants to say, but don't quite get it right.

Here, I am sharing with you some things that I just know he means to say if only he had a few more words in his vocabulary:

1. Please don't ask me if I've been good while you were gone. I'm not even sure what that means. If it means emptying out the cupboards so the babysitter can see where everything goes, then yes, I was very good!

2. I really don't like it when you tickle me. Even though I laugh and that makes you laugh, it is miserably uncomfortable for me. So please stop doing it.

3. Stop freaking out about the messes I make. I am just so excited about everything! In fact, I wish you'd play with me more often.

4. I like all of your stuff. Seriously, all of it. I want to see how it works, what happens when I squish it in my hands, and if it looks on me like it looks on you.

Colorful and silky . . .ahhh.

5. I want to be just like you. I have seen how you tap on your computer and answer your phone, and I want you to see that I can do it, too!

What? You do it.

6. I like snacks way better than that green stuff you put on my plate. I could eat snacks all day long. Mmmm, snacky snack snack snack.

For the love of all that's holy, save the fish!

7. I do not like it when you eat my snacks. Seriously, Mom, that package has a picture of a baby on it. That means it's for babies, and YOU are not a baby. 

8. It hurts my feelings when you yell at me. I am only curious about what's on top of the table, and if I have to pull at the tablecloth to get it, then that's what I will do. 

9. I climb things because I can. Wow, everything looks so different from up there. I can see what you see now. Me likey.

10. Don't try to reason with me when I'm having a tantrum. I can't hear what you're saying anyway because I am too busy trying to scream as loud as I can.

Don't look at me, don't talk to me, just don't.

11. For the love of god, woman, take me outside more often! I love the breeze and the sunshine and the leaves and the mud and the space to run! It's a whole other world for me.

12. When I am continuously yelling, "Mommy!" from my crib, come and get me. I am awake and I am NOT going back to sleep!

13. I like you and Daddy equally, so stop whispering to me that you know I like you better. Daddy is funny, he gives me really good snacks while eating his own (see #6&7) and he takes me outside (see #11).

14. No one can get me to sleep faster than you can. No one. Mommy, you're warm and soft and you know that spot in the crook of your arm that I love. That is yours. Just yours.

15. I like to be naked. Plain and simple. And when I'm naked, I like to run. It's freeing. You should try it sometime.

16. I want to help you. I see you taking clothes out of that machine, and I want to make you proud. I see you putting food into that other thing, and I want to do it, too. I get confused when you tell me NO and redo what I've done.

17. I know you're not perfect, Mommy, so stop pretending. I think it's kinda funny when you drop things or trip or pass gas. A guy needs some comedy in his day. Besides, I like repeating that "dammit" word that you say when you mess up!

18. I want you to leave the TV on when that purple dinosaur comes on. There's something about that big thing and all those kids singing that makes me happy, so I'm not sure why you roll your eyes and turn it off.

19. Sometimes, I'm just too busy to cuddle. I know I'm cute and soft and darling, but I have places to see and things to do. Can we just wait until I'm tired? (See #14)

20. I like my penis. Just wanted you to know. Also, where's yours?

How to Sleep-Train A Toddler in 30 Easy Steps

I absolutely adore this little kid! He is, as the world's greatest supernanny said, "practically perfect in every way." He is sweet, loving, friendly, smart, curious, fun, happy, and gives the best hugs.

That said, he does have one flaw . . .he is a horrible sleeper.

It may have something to do with the fact that he has no idea how to self-soothe and that he thinks my nipples are his own personal sucking candies. When he wakes up and they are not there in his face, he has no idea what to do, but cry (I'm sorry ladies, but does this not sound like a typical man or what?).

Anyway, as he is almost 19 months old, and the quality of my own sleep has been so poor for the last, oh, 28 months, I think it's time to lay down the law and do some sleep training. So I present to you, my 30-step plan for sleep training my toddler:

1. Put him to sleep at his normal bedtime, via the normal routine (rocking and nursing - hey, if he's all cozy and satisfied, maybe he will stay asleep all night this time).

2. Go about my normal routine, which involves getting into bed at about 2:00 a.m.

3. Get all snuggled up in bed, wiggling and tossing and turning until my body is right in that comfortable groove in my bed.

4. Drift off and just barely enter REM.

5. Is that a baby crying? Hmmm . . .a baby is crying. I wonder where it is.

6. Get kicked in the shin by Hubby, "The baby is crying."

7. Unwrap from warm cocoon and prepare to get out of bed as Hubby says, "Just let him cry."

8. Cover back up and stare at the ceiling, listening to baby cry.

9. Twenty minutes later, lay fuming as Hubby is solidly snoring away and baby is now yelling, "Mommy! Moooooommmmmmy!"

10. Uncover again, get out of bed, and close door to bedroom so Hubby doesn't hear. 

11. Close all bedroom doors so no other little children wake up.

12. Stand with hand on door handle to baby's room, willing baby to stop crying.

13. After almost falling asleep standing up, decide it would be best to lay in hallway and listen to baby cry. Maybe being so close to the door, I will absorb all the sound and no one else will hear.

14. Start drifting off, only to be awakened by a shooting pain in my hip from laying on the floor.

15. Realize baby is now all out sobbing.

16. Think, screw it, and go in his room.

17. Have every intention of just shushing him, giving him a pat, and leaving, but instead, melt and give in when he smiles, reaches his arms out and says, "Mommy!"

18. Pick him up and sink into his tight little hug and toddler sweetness.

19. Stand with him, swaying back and forth until his little head drops on my shoulder.

20. Convinced he is asleep, gently lay him back down in his crib.

21. Yell, "CRAP!" and run out of the room when he immediately pops back up.

22. Go back down the hall, close the door, get back in bed and cover head with several blankets and pillows.

23. Realize I can still hear baby yelling, "MOMMY!!"

24. Hear 9 year old in the hall, and realize baby is in danger of waking everyone up.

25. Throw off covers, sighing audibly.

26. Meet 9 year old in hall, who says, "Mom, the baby wants you."

27. Curse fertile uterus.

28. Completely give in by picking toddler up, getting comfy in rocking chair, and nursing him until he's sound asleep, and I have a cramp in my butt.

29. Resign myself to this routine until baby is in kindergarten, I have enough money to hire the baby whisperer, I make the cover of Time Magazine baby's ear infection is all cleared up.

30. Put baby down, sound asleep, and creep out of room as sun is rising while thinking to myself, He's only little for a short time. Who cares? Not me. Not really.



Do you struggle with any poor sleepers at your house? What is your plan for fixing it?

10 Post-Holiday Murphy's Laws: Decorating Edition

It's several days after the new year now, and my house is all put back together. As I was UN-decking my halls of holiday cheer, a few thoughts occurred to me about post Christmas cleanup that surely must be part of some unwritten list of Murphy's Laws for the holidays.

 





1. The number of happy little "elves" who were beyond excited to help me decorate on Thanksgiving weekend, dropped drastically to zero as everyone pretended to be interested in whatever Bowl game happened to be on t.v. at the exact time I said I would be taking down decorations and would like some help, please.

2. No matter how hard I try, the ornaments are never going to fit back in the boxes the way they came out. So I need to stop trying.

3. The ratio of ornaments I find myself left with is 50:25:25. 50% made it off the tree unbroken and intact. 25% are slightly worse for wear having been chipped or altered in some other manner (I set those aside telling myself I will buy super glue and repair them for next year). 25% were broken, shattered, or ruined completely and thrown away over the course of the holiday.

4. I made a note to myself to stock up on cheap, plastic ornaments at the after Christmas clearance sales as all holiday long my toddler thought it would be a good idea to practice his early ball skills by grabbing ornaments off the tree, running five feet into the kitchen and chucking them onto the tile floor where they became one of the latter 25%.

5. As I put the 50% away that made it through the holidays, I noticed they were all the cheap, ugly ones that I have received as gag gifts or at white elephant holiday parties that I put around the bottom of the tree hoping my toddler would destroy them.

6. I know I am never going fix the 25% I deemed "fixable."

7. Inevitably, I will overlook a decoration that is either winter-themed or was placed in an odd location around my home. Someone will notice it when I am hosting the group playdate in March, after which I will take it down and shove it in the first holiday tote I find.

8. I will wonder where that decoration is next year, only to find it two years from now stuffed among the bunnies and plastic eggs that I use to decorate for Easter.

9. I feel a much bigger sense of satisfaction once the decorations are packed away, the tree is taken to the recycling center, the floor is vacuumed, the furniture is moved back, and the toys are relocated to their permanent locations than I had when I stepped back and viewed the house fully decorated.

10. When the kids are back to school and the house is tidy and quiet again, I will realize that despite the extreme stress, chaos, mess and general disorganization that the holidays bring, I kind of miss it and am looking forward to next Christmas just a little bit.

The "Right" Way to Catch a Runaway Toddler

Today's Thursday thought comes from this guy:

Knox

He is such a great big brother. He maintains the perfect balance of concern, sweetness, bossiness, and annoyance that any older sibling has.

One day, we were all at Slim's speech therapy appointment. While Slim was in the interior room with his therapist, the rest of us were waiting in the outer room. Someone had opened the door to the hallway, and Baby E took off like a shot down the hall.

"I'll get him," Knox volunteered.

Pretty soon he came carrying Baby E back, holding him under the arms, Baby E flopping submissively.

Knox set him down in front of me and said in a very grown-up way, "I caught him left-handed!"

It took me a minute to figure out what he meant was that he had caught him red-handed.

Why One is So Fun

I officially have a one-year-old on my hands!  And while I am not crying into my morning latte, I am laughing my butt off at all of his adorable antics!  It's been a while since I've had a one-year-old, and I'd kind of forgotten all of the funny things that they do.

Baby E obviously takes after
 his mom in his love of cake.

I adore this age!  Actually, between six and eighteen months are my favorite ages.  They are discovering so much.

And they are busy, busy, busy!  I went shopping recently to find a toy for his birthday and couldn't find a single thing that a.) we don't already have (Fifth boy, people. We have it ALL!) and b.) is more fascinating than the trash can.  Seriously, he spent the entire weekend of his first birthday throwing things away in the kitchen trash can.  Here are some of the items we found in it:

• various toys, including balls, trains, and parts to other toys that the older boys have broken (okay, maybe the latter should have been in the trash in the first place)
• my niece's missing flip flop
• a pair of socks
• a dish towel
• items from the recycling sack (I've got to teach that kid about green living)
• cans of food from the pantry
• my wallet (thank goodness I saw that one go in there)

Baby E (I guess I need to think of a new nickname for him now that he's not technically a baby any more *sniff*) has been so busy discovering the house now that he can walk, I don't think I am going to get him any birthday toys.  He is being creative enough on his own.

In fact, he would like me to share with you his list of the most fun games he's learned to play now that he is one:

1. Switcheroo: This is when he puts the frozen waffles in the linen drawer and the kitchen towels in the freezer.  Or the clean, wet laundry in the dirty clothes basket and the dirty clothes in the dryer.  Or, much to his brothers' dismay, all of their socks in different drawers.

Okay, Slim's socks would be better up here,
and Knox's socks should go here...

Let's see if I have this right...

2. Dinner Time Oopsie Dropsie: He thinks this one is hilarious.  This is a game of "dangle-the-food-object-Mommy-wants-me-to-eat-over-the-side-of-my-tray-until-she-is-looking-and-then-smile-aaaand-release."  And repeat until Mommy gets the hint and takes the food off the tray.

3. Hide the Object: Said object is usually shiny, small, pokey, or round, and the hiding place is usually his mouth.

4. Putting in and Taking Out: This is a variation of Switcheroo, only in this version, you never know where things are going to end up.  And this version mostly involves taking things out - clothes out of my dresser drawers, towels out of the linen closet, objects out of boxes.  It is also known as Make a Huge Freaking Mess that Mommy Has to Clean Up Later.

There are no pantyliners in the
box, only tub toys.

Found the pantyliners.

5. Dirty Hands/Clean Hands: He'll stick his hands wherever he can - in someone's mouth, in food, in his poopy diaper, in the potted plants outside.  But don't worry, he'll wash them off later...by sticking them in the toilet!

This looks interesting and fun.

6. Hide and Giggle: He has free reign of the house now, and he's going to explore!  Any cabinet that doesn't have a lock, becomes a hiding place.  Any furniture that he can crawl behind, he's going to check it out.  And the stairs, as tempting as Mount Everest to a veteran climber. Now, before you go calling DCFS on me, we do have safety devices in place, and I do watch my child. Luckily for Mommy, he is either giggling with pride over his accomplishment or "answers" me when I call for him. So, if I do happen to lose him for a moment, I can usually find him rather quickly.

7. King of the World: This is a new one he's learning.  It's otherwise known as climbing.  I'm afraid...I'm very, very afraid.

Ah yes, one-year-olds are daring, they are clever, and they make terrible messes.

But they can be contained if necessary, and they haven't learned to talk back.

Now I think I remember why one is so fun.

What has been your favorite age or stage for your child so far?

Innocence

My four-year-old, Lil' C, is quite smitten with my friend Heather's daughter, Kate.  She's pretty sweet on him, too.  They take swimming lessons together and are on the same micro soccer team.  They make a darling little couple.

I think a lot about the types of women my sons will end up with.  And I think about what kinds of mothers those women will have.  Since I adore Heather for being such a sweet, funny, and laid back friend, I'm going to hold out hope for the next twenty years that this is a relationship that will work out.

In the meantime, since they have so much fun together, we'll just keep planning playdates.  Before their most recent one, Lil' C excitedly said to me, "Kate can touch my weapon!"  Even though he was holding a toy light saber, my adult mind of course thought something else.  I giggled and went to update my Facebook status.

As soon as Kate arrived at our house, the kids disappeared and played great together. After Kate was gone, I asked Lil' C what they had played.

"We played doctor!" he said.

"You did?"  Hmmm, perhaps we should have supervised a little more closely, my adult mind again imagining something inappropriate.

"Yes, Mommy, animal doctor.  Do you want to see our office?"  He took me to the basement and showed me where they had been playing.  I was relieved to see that a chaperone was at least present:

Just as I was smiling in relief at the innocence of youth, he added, "After we were done playing doctor, we went up to my bedroom for a party!"

Aye, yi, yi, how will I ever survive his teen years?

Just Because I Wanted To

Yesterday, I had to help Slim with a First Eucharist project for school.   It was basically a craft representing the Catholic sacraments he has received thus far.  It was due today, and of course we were just doing it yesterday.

I read the extensive list of guidelines, and we got to work.  We planned out what would go where and how he wanted it to look.  I made suggestions and offered feedback, and in the end we had a nice little plan for his craft.

The idea of lining the project with glitter was stuck in my head, and Slim agreed it would look nice.  As I picked up the glue and glitter, I remembered that the guidelines specifically stated, NO GLITTER.

Now, whether I was tired/had a busy day/was stressed/was dealing with a crying baby/was rebelling against all the glitter projects the boys bring home from school/just wanted to get the damn thing done, here's what happened:

I knew the guidelines - they were right there  - but I put glitter on the damn thing anyway.  I just wanted to.  I broke the rules.

And it felt...exhilarating!

The plan for the picture was his; the glitter was mine.

Me: "We weren't supposed to put glitter on your craft.  It says right here on the guidelines."

Slim: "I like the glitter."

Me: "Me too.  If you get in trouble for the glitter, just tell them your mom did it.  Blame it on me."

Slim: "I'll tell them, 'If you don't like the glitter, look at it again because it looks nice, and we like it."

Me (smiling inside): "Yeah! You know, sometimes moms don't follow directions either."

Slim: "That's okay, Mom."

Yep, it's okay.

Slim has been struggling this whole school year.  He has been on and off several different medications for ADHD and anxiety.  He has been on and off several different behavior plans and charts.  He has been shuttled to and from speech therapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy, academic testing, and doctors' appointments.  Everyone is checking on him, redirecting him, yelling at him, demanding him to do something.  He's felt berated, unloved, and misunderstood.

I can just imagine what his teacher will think when she sees the glitter. No wonder this kid can't follow directions when his mother can't even read and follow them.

I used to think that way when I was a teacher.

But now, as a mom, I think that sometimes following directions isn't as important as making your child feel understood.

Yeah, it looks nice, and WE like it!

We Have to Stop Meeting Like This

Dear Baby E,

I hope you know how much I completely adore you.  I love your cute baby nose and chubby cheeks.  I love holding your little baby hands and staring at your darling baby toes.  I love how your soft baby hair is sprouting curls all over your sweet-smelling head.  And I especially love your silly one-toothed smile and your babbling baby talk.

I love nursing you, too.  I love that it's the one thing only I am able to do for you.  I drink in the quiet moments when it's just you and me, and I feel like I can keep you safe and happy forever.  I melt when you stop nursing to look up at me and smile and touch my face as if you have something to say.

But, and I say this with all the love I have in my heart, isn't it time to knock all that off??

I'm not suggesting that we discontinue nursing during the day - a guy's gotta eat right?  But all of this night waking is frankly taking it's toll on Mommy.

I know that you barely wake in the night and root around for the comfort that you find with me; and when I am not there, you get mad!  What I'm suggesting is this: you know those small, colorful, plastic things that are in your crib?  The things you like to bang against the crib slats and toss out onto the floor?  Those are called binkies.  A coupla sucks on one of those puppies will put you right back to sleep, I promise.

And if that's not comforting enough for you, you know that soft, blue fuzzy thing that's also in your crib?  That's a blankie, and it smells like Mommy.  I made sure of that.  Try cuddling up to that.

Or you could just try your good ole' thumb.  I saw you put it in your mouth as I layed you down for your nap just now - how did that work for you?

Look Baby, I know none of these things is as soft and warm as Mommy; but Sweetie, Mommy needs her sleep.  This waking up and looking for me four times a night is killing me.  I'm not getting any sleep or any chores done, and I'm so tired when I write that I repeat myself.

I'm just so tired that I keep repeating myself.

Oh, I know, I suppose it is my fault for picking you up and then falling asleep with you time and time again.  You've gotten used to waking up with my boob right there in your face. 

And it's not even that I mind falling asleep with you sometimes. It's just that when I sleep all night in the rocking chair with you, well, frankly I wake up with a sore ass.  And I really love my bed.  It's so soft and warm and my pillow is so comfortable.  I get to lay flat out on my back and work myself into the perfect grove in my bed.

You are over eight months old now, and we both need to be sleeping through the night.  I know I make you cry sometimes, and then I come in and pick you up anyway.  I know it's confusing, but we need to work on this together.  We don't want to get in trouble at your next well-baby visit, do we?  Believe me, we don't want to get "the talk."

I'm only saying this because when you were tiny, you did sleep through the night.   And I'm not sure what happened along the way, but I need you to do it again. Listen, I'm not saying we can never cuddle at night, but let's keep it to a minimum, shall we?

So to review, it's binkie, blankie, thumb, and then if you're still awake you can call for Mommy, okay?

I love you, Baby, but we really have to stop meeting in the middle of the night like this.

Love,
Mommy