The Things My Kids Bring Home From School

So I'm all about sending our kids to Catholic preschool.  They learn to pray, hang out with Father Jeff, meet a couple of nuns, and get free rosaries.  Grady really loves the free rosaries.  He also loves to pick up random things that don't belong to him.  Like sharp objects, car keys, mail from the neighbors' mailboxes, used chewing gum, and um, this...

This is what I found in Grady's school folder last week.  I slammed that sucker shut so fast the wind of it nearly forced that brochure to flutter to the ground.  In front of all the other mothers.  The one's whose children do not have pornography literature in their backpacks.  I snuck another peek.  Yup.  That's what I thought it said.  I checked again.  Yup.  Still says it.   I'm pretty sure Grady pilfered it from the church's book rack during his class's Mass day.  And stashed it in his backpack.   I think he was pissed that Father Jeff told the kids to stop plucking flowers from the plants that decorate the church.  So instead of plucking flowers, he plucked a pornography brochure.  Take that Father Jeff. 

So all this pornography stuff got me thinking about worms.  It's worm season again.

They're breaking into our home.  All shriveled up.  Dempsey carries them around the house and then tosses them into puddles in the backyard.  To freshen them up a bit.  Then he preserves them in plastic baggies.  Lillian and Grady hook them onto their fishing rod.  And go fishing.  In the beer cooler.

All this time I spend thinking about pornography and worms, got me thinking about erectile dysfunction.  Or maybe it was just that damn commercial that constantly replays on my favorite Sirius radio channel.   The one I listen to repeatedly.  In the van.  With the kids.  Not even noticing that our entertainment is a commentary on dysfunctional penises.  Because I'm too busy daydreaming about worms and pornography.  Until one day Lillian asks, "Mom, what is ED?"  Well sweetie.  It's a story about worms.   And how they Eat Dirt.  Grady will show you the brochure.

  

Busy.

Busy.  Staggered entrances.  Preschool.  Kindergarten.  Cars.  A visit from Uncle Conor.  Meetings.  Orientations.  A boat ride. A trip to the aquarium.  Doctor's appointments.  Soccer practices.  Grady getting naked and peeing on the playground during Lil's soccer practice.  Finding a tick on Grady's balls.  I thought it was poop.  Then it stared at me.  I don't want to talk about it.  Busy.

After last week's incident with the car, Sean and I sat Grady down for a lecture.  He could have been 15, except he was 3.  We explained to him that he may not sneak out of the house...with dad's keys...and start the car.  It is very dangerous.  He may not drive until he is 16.  Grady stared at us.  "Can I talk now?"  He asked.  "Where's my paci?" He is 3 after all.  I told him it was on the kitchen counter.  He scampered down the hall, glanced back and shouted, "and I won't get the keys!"  Liar, liar, pants on fire.



The smirk.  Ha.  I can't drive your car.  This guy let me drive the boat.



I got a lecture from Grady today.  He wanted to go to the toy store.  I told him, "We'll see."  He lectured me.  "Don't see, let's just go, I don't want to talk about it."

All this time, I thought it would be hard to send Lil off to school.  I thought I'd wish she was still home with me.  Then came the staggered entrance.  Your kid goes to school one day, then has off for the next two, while the other kindergartners have their turn.  After day one, I was ready.  Ready for her to go the next two days.  But she couldn't.  I thought about sending her anyway.  Playing dumb.  But then I knew I'd be known as that parent.  The one that doesn't follow directions.  The letter had perfectly explained how the staggered entrance would work.  It also provided the date and time for the parent/child meeting, with the teacher, scheduled before school was to start.

I always follow directions.  I write everything down on a calendar, and save important papers.  So I was surprised, when at our meeting, I was handed a package of microwave popcorn with a note attached,  Thanks for popping in.  It was adorable.  "This is from 'Sneak a Peek at your Seat'", Mrs. M told me.  What?  I missed something already?  School hasn't even started yet.  What is going on here?  I've been trying so hard.  I really want to do well in Kindergarten.  I swear I'm trying.  I even went to three different stores to find a primary lined composition notebook.  And I bought four while we were there.  Even though you only asked for one.  Does this mean I have to miss recess?  Because I really love the monkey bars.  See, I even wore my sneakers today.  And I tied them all by myself.  Okay, I admit, we did skip Grady's preschool orientation.  On purpose.  Because I already passed preschool the first time around.

This past Tuesday was Lillian's first day of Kindergarten, with the entire class. It was also Grady's staggered entrance day for 3 year old preschool. Seriously. This is really confusing. Starting next week, Grady will go two days a week, for a couple of hours each day.  But I have to wait for next week.  Because this week is lets see if we can make mom even crazier than she already is week.   I don't want to talk about it. 

Grady's first day.

Days after his lecture, Grady shouted to Sean through the closed bathroom door.  He was tired of waiting for Sean to emerge.  Lillian says that daddies take forever in the bathroom.  Personally, I've decided they are checking their balls for ticks.   "Dad...Can I go for a ride in your car?" Grady asked.   I hear Sean shout "NO."  Grady turned to me, "Mom...he said yes."   Liar, liar, pants on fire.  I'm flushing the keys with the ticks.  And I don't want to talk about it.  The balls, ticks, or the keys.  I'm busy.

Uncle Conor came to visit.  He gave me some tips on Kindergarten.

Who needs another beer?  Oh. Me. Me. Pick me.

Mom Versus The Alpha Omega Elite/Luxe Deluxe 3-In-1

I hate carseats.  I always tell Lillian not to use the word hate, but I am the mom after all, so I'll say it... I hate carseats.  Why can't we just go back to the 80's when it was perfectly acceptable to lay your newborn across the backseat and pray that daddy didn't slam into the Ford Thunderbird in front of you.  Back in those days daddies drove through yellow lights like Mario Andretti, trying to avoid any abrupt stops.  I relish the days of my baby poop yellow booster seat. It had the bumpy texture of a popcorn ceiling and left imprints on the backs of my thighs in the summertime.  It doubled as my booster seat at the dinner table (unless of course my mom was too tired to bring it in from the car and just used the Yellow Pages instead).  You could choose to sit higher or lower with a simple flip of the seat.  If your toddler had a diaper explosion or barfed on your ten hour ride to the beach you could just hose it off.  No one was reading pages 47 and 48 of the owner's maual trying to figure out how to remove the seat pad for cleaning.  There were no seat pads.  No five point restraints,  LATCH systems, cup holders, rotating armrests, locking clips or headrests.  You just sat  on it and used the vehicle issued seat belt.  Except the adult sized seat belt felt like it was cutting your head off, so you'd just put it behind your back.  Perfect.  Now I have to start putting children in the van an hour before we go anywhere.  I pull out the scale and weigh each one, and cross reference their birth date with the calendar to see how how old they are.  With that information I determine if today they should be fully reclined or partially reclined, forward facing or rear facing, or if they're old enough to ride on the roof rack yet.

Dempsey got a new carseat today. An Alpha Omega Elite/Luxe Deluxe 3-In-1.  I'm impressed.  It sounds like a jet plane.  I decide to install the carseat before driving to preschool this morning.  I should know better.  I glance at the instructions, how hard can it be?  It certainly seems easy enough. I consider myself pretty efficient with carseats.  Sometimes when I'm bored at night, I time myself on removal and installation.  I have it down to two minutes and thirteen seconds per seat.  I put Lil and Grady in the van at 8:15...we don't need to be at school until 9 and it's only a five minute drive.  Plenty of time.  I set the seat to the fully reclined position, place it in, rear facing, and hook the two anchor straps.  I tighten like I've never tightened before.  Looks good to me, this baby's not going anywere.  Even the fire department would approve.  I sprint back into the house, grab that lucky baby, and buckle him in.  He looks like he's bent over trying to tie his shoe..if he knew how to tie a shoe.  Hmmm...this doesn't seem quite right.  Then I see the dreaded level line.  Apparently this line is supposed to be parallel to the ground...it's perpendicular.  The line is laughing at me.  No problem, I'm still cool as a cucumber.  It must not be fully reclined...I'll just loosen the straps, recline, and I'm good to go.  Except  the release button won't work. I press for 20 minutes.  I go back in the house,  snatch up various tools and jab at the release button.  The tools are laughing at me and so is that damn button.  I want to cry.  I am crying.  The neighbors are watching...they think I'm crazy.  I'm sweating my ass off and have to put on the air conditioning. The seat is stuck, there is no where else for Dempsey to sit, and today is Christmas Party day at school.  I strap him in and pray that none of the other mothers glance into the van at drop off.  Maybe I'll just keep his sliding door closed when I unbuckle him and sneak out the other side.  At least I know that seat isn't going anywhere.

I spend the rest of the day, working in 15 minute increments, trying to dislodge that seat.  I send Sean a lengthy text.  The audacity of him to be at work, instead of at home with me, crying over the car seat.  Jerk.  And those nervy kids actually want to eat lunch and play games.  Are you crazy?  Mommy has important work to do!  Don't you understand that Toys 'R' Us visits are at stake?  This is serious business!  I hear Sean come in the door.  I run downstairs and he's sitting at the dining room table talking with Lillian about their day.  Seriously?  You two have nothing better to do?  Why aren't you out there dealing with this catastrophic event!  We are just going to have to cut those straps right off!  That thing is never coming out!  We better start thinking about how we're going to trade in a vehicle that  has a permanent car seat in it!  We'll never get another car! WE WILL SPEND THE REST OF OUR LIVES DRIVING A MINIVAN!   Dempsey will be forever hunched over!  He'll never get into college and he'll never get married!  He'll never have children!  What is wrong with you?

Sean goes out to take a look.  The carseat is out and reinstalled within two minutes and thirteen seconds.  So maybe we'll be happy grandparents after all.

Ten Reasons Why Alcohol Should be Served at Preschool Christmas Programs

Tonight was Lillian's preschool Christmas program.  She's been practicing for weeks.  Shooshing baby Jesus, cloping like a donkey's feet, nodding like Mary's tired head.  I should have been practicing too.  Honing my mommy skills. Sean was coaching his middle school basketball team tonight.  It was mom versus the triple threat.  Chasing three kids in the midst of the witching hour, tracking down four sippy cups before the black mold sets in, changing two poopy diapers, wiping Lil's butt after she poops on a toilet (I know, pooping on a toilet, it's the new fad), looking for stray poop in the family room after Grady removed his own diaper ( I won't tell you which couch in case you ever visit), ironing a dress, preventing Dempsey from chewing on the iron cord,  sitting on Dempsey in the outside chance he'll let me wipe his nose, shooing Grady out of every bathroom in the house, nursing one child, preparing edible food for all three, brushing Lil's hair into her requested side ponytail (for which I can only blame my own 80's obsession), slicking down Grady's cowlick, dispensing Benadryl to Dempsey (wishing I could justify giving it to the others), undoing Lillian's make up job, dressing myself and three kids in clothes free of snot and poop, then drying Grady's shirt after he took a 'bath' in the sink, and figuring out where the milk went after I found an empty gallon jug in Lil and Grady's bedroom (they blamed each other and Sean claimed the kids said I let them have it). By the time we were all buckled into the van, I just wanted to go back into the house and guzzle a beer...or five.  While I should have been paying attention to my rock star daughter and her motley crew of wailing classmates, I was instead coming up with my top ten reasons why alcohol should be served at preschool Christmas programs.

1. The singing would have hurt less
2. No one would mind that Grady was drinking the Holy Water.  It didn't do any good in case you   were wondering.
3. The wine is already there, it'll go bad by Sunday anyway. 
4. When Dempsey climbed onto the alter the other parents would have mistook him for baby Jesus instead of shooting me death glares for screwing up their photo op
5. Because I really needed a beer 

Reasons 6 through 10...see below

What Would Mother Say

I'm talking to my mom on the phone tonight and she says to me, "Lisa Marie...your children are sniffing each other's butts...please...when writing this blog just remember, WWMS...What Would Mother Say?"  I usually try not to think about what my mother would say as I go about my day.  She would be mortified.  While I'm on the phone with her, Dempsey is pulling up on my pant leg...jerking down my kid stained pants in the process.  Grady, who is supposed to only have his paci at bedtime, is yanking me over to one side and shoving said paci down my shirt, telling me "I don't have to go to bed now, right mom?" And Lillian is laying on the floor running her foot up my leg, the only one that Dempsey doesn't have a death grip on, while singing "Let's celebrate Kwanzaa."  This reminds me I need to shave.  I'm being molested by my children Mom!  What does my mother have to say about this scene?  "Lisa Marie...don't put that out there!"

Last night we were celebrating St. Nicholas a day late.  Lillian learned about St. Nicholas at school.  She wants to put her and Grady's shoes outside the bedroom door with the hopes that St. Nicholas will leave treats.  Grady takes the shoes from the hallway, placing them on the wrong feet, one velcro navy blue sneaker (his) and one purple patent leather mary jane (hers), and dances to Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, booty style, on his bed.   What would mother say?   "Lisa Marie...those shoes are filthy, don't let him on the bed with those!"


Yesterday, after the boys and I picked Lil up from preschool we went to the library. The first thing we do is stop in the bathroom and I change both boys' diapers. We head to the kids section. All three scatter to play with toys and swipe books and dvd's from their shelves. In the time it takes Dempsey to topple over a chair, Grady has pooped.  This will be a short visit. I'm waiting for the other library patrons to start dropping dead from the fumes at any minute. At the check out I ask Grady to please sit down in the stroller. He looks at me pleadingly "Poop in my butt" he informs me. Thanks for telling us, I had no idea. The librarian thinks it's funny, she laughs. But doesn't volunteer to change his diaper. Time to change libraries. What would mother say? She would remind me of our visit to her library last month. Lil and Grady's uproarious puppet show full of sound effects and puppets flying over book shelves. Dempsey gnawing the paint (non toxic I'm sure) off of three puzzle pieces and knocking the remaining parts of nineteen puzzles onto the floor. The librarian comes over to reprimand us. My mom may not be allowed back. That's okay she would say, she never really liked books anyway.


Lillian spotted a stink bug on the bathroom ceiling this morning.  I climb up onto the vanity to grab it with a tissue and tell her "Don't ever do this."  That's what my mother would have said to me.  I try to grab it and it falls...onto the handle of the red toothbrush sitting on the counter.  Lil looks up at me and says "Mom, I'll use the green toothbrush."  Smart girl.  What would mother say?  She would say "Lisa Marie,  that is DISGUSTING...throw out BOTH toothbrushes.  And get a new ceiling"


At the end of each of my days what would my mother say?  I know what she would say because she says it everyday.  "Lisa Marie...you're doing a great job... and I love you more than all the tea in China."

Advent Adventures

So my bad mommy secret is out...I let the kids open their Advent calendars as soon as they wake up in the morning.  All eight of them...calendars...not kids.  And I let them eat the chocolates right then and there.  Yes, we have three children and eight Advent calendars.  Our family is fabulous, that's where they all came from.  All but one.

One came from a little friend at Grady's Mom's Morning Out group at our church.  This kind child brought a calendar for each person in the class.  My dear Grady was so thankful he threw a full on, blow out tantrum right there on the classroom floor.  It was so bad his teachers were trying to bribe him with a Christmas Oreo cookie.  They couldn't have known that Grady could care less about those things.  He just licks the cream out then feeds the cookie remnants to our dog Finn.  And obviously Finn wasn't there to help him out.  

He wanted to open that calendar immediately.  Who wouldn't?  He can sniff out chocolate like no woman can.  "No, no, no"  I tell him sweetly..."It's only November 30th...you have to wait until tomorrow...December 1st."  You know...thirty days hath September... April, June, and November?  What...you haven't learned that yet?  What kind of school is this?   He bolts out of the room, said calendar in his hot little hands and flings it across the hallway floor as we quietly and patiently wait the fifteen minutes for Lil's class to finish up.   Why are the other two year olds not acting this way?  My child is quite advanced.  Those other children must not know there is chocolate lurking behind those sealed up little doors.

For God's sake Grady...we are in a church!   You can have chocolate TOMORROW...doesn't that make it all better?   Duh! Why can't you understand that?    See... Dempsey's crawling on the floor away from the calendar...he gets it..he's headed straight for Harvard...he's going right towards that puddle on the bathroom floor...that is much more acceptable.  You just hold onto that calendar until tomorrow and look at the pictures.

Happy "two chocolates in" day.  Or in our case, sixteen.