Small things

If you've ever lived with a toddler or preschooler, you know that they have control issues.

It turns out that living with a bunch of kids has also given me some control issues. (Just ask my husband.)

It's been a bad week on this front, mostly due to Caleb's two-pronged approach to Mommy Torture. Firstly, he has a cold. This means he's fussy, crying a lot, up every few hours at night, and wants to be carried almost constantly. Secondly, when he does allow me to put him down (only briefly, mind you), he's hell-bent on destruction: climbing bookshelves, shredding books, crawling into the dishwasher and then falling out, and so on. Even when he's not crying, I cannot leave him alone for a second.

I find this part of motherhood to be maddening: nothing occurs on my terms. I've spent the week staggering around in sleep-deprived, shower-deprived, out-of-control fatigue. I can't get anything done, quite literally. I've stopped trying. I ordered pizza for dinner last night. There are toys scattered on every horizontal surface in the house. Crazy-making, for me. When I have a free minute, for some self-defeating reason, I spend it on the computer reading about the disaster-formerly-known-as-the-economy, or this horrifying election season. Which makes me feel even worse.

This morning Caleb awoke at 5:45, ready to get up. Which meant for me: no shower, no breakfast, no sense of control or accomplishment. I had failed before I even started.

Except I didn't play along.

I calmly put him back in his crib, much to his disappointment. I happily made a pot of coffee. When I got into the shower, he was fussing. I let the hot water clear the cobwebs, and when I emerged he was still protesting (though not too forcefully). I dried my hair, and when I turned off the dryer he was still complaining. I made my bed. I picked up my room.

In short I did what I wanted to do. Those things that I used to do every morning, before Number Three came along. Those things that, even if I don't get another damned thing done this day, make me feel as if I've accomplished something-- petty as though it may be.

Then I went to save my baby from his crib-prison. He smiled at me, and I smiled back.

This is my life right now. It's a small world which I currently occupy, defined by bed-making and laundry-doing and child-feeding. Big Questions are beyond my grasp, which I sometimes find disappointing. But for now, it's mostly okay. As long as I can occasionally say that I've done these little things on my terms, I'm satisfied. For now.

Are my arms really that short?!

"Mommy, look! I made our whole family out of dinosaurs. This little orange one is Caleb, and he's just crawling around. And this one is me, and I'm crying because Jensen got mad at me. And this one's Daddy."

"Which one am I, Evan?"

"Oh, well, you're the great big scary meat-eater."

"Ahem."

So, this is Jeff and me. I'm the enormous terrifying one getting ready to tear someone's head off. Apparently a child's head. I do not even want to know what a child psychologist would say about this.

I'm fully aware that I can be a little surly in the morning. Especially before I've had my ration of coffee. And before, say, 10 am. And I also know I sometimes get grouchy in the late afternoon, when I'm trying to get dinner on the table and two-thirds of my children are crying and the other one is jumping on the sofa and Jeff isn't home and I'm starving. Or sometimes I maybe get a teensy bit grumpy at bedtime when the kids are coming up with ways to postpone sleep and remembering last-minute things for school and the baby is crying and I wanted to be in bed 30 minutes ago. Okay, granted.

But a T-rex?!

But. But, wait. Let's remember that Evan adores dinosaurs. And the T-rex is his favorite of favorites. The pinnacle of dinosaur-hood. The ultimate incarnation.

So I'm interpretting this as the sincerest form of Evan flattery. Never mind all that grouchy stuff. And this is exactly what I'll tell that pesky child psychologist, too.

A little bit of nuthin'

I didn't even post yesterday. Which violated my self-imposed Monday-Friday rule. But I wasn't home at all, and barely made it through dinner in time to watch the alleged "debate." (Which, by the way, I'm happy to report I survived. If I pull through this presidential campaign without having a catastrophic health event, I'll be surprised. I've decided Sarah Palin is trying to actually kill me. Although I was having some back problems yesterday and took a muscle relaxer after the kids went to bed and that made the debate much more enjoyable.)

Lots of boring details, including a brand-spanking-new washing machine (old one died while full of water and Jeff had to siphon it and accidentally drank dirty, detergenty laundry water), a Christmas present that may or may not involve a hard-to-get video game console, getting my lovely van serviced only to be told there's nothing wrong with it but there is and they won't listen to me!, and Cub Scouts. Busy day. But on the upside, Caleb did not sustain any potentially life-threatening injuries, which is a welcome change from recent days.

As you can see, the glamour here continues.

I don't want to overdo the excitement or make anyone jealous of my jet-setting lifestyle, but I also get to go to the dentist today. Whew.

But, just to tide you over until something interesting happens, I'm posting a cute picture of Jeff and our tailgating-baby-with-approximately-eight-chins.

Now I'm done.

Where the sun don't shine

This exchange took place a couple of weeks ago. Evan is proving to be quite the perceptive child:

Evan: Mommy, you know it's dark inside people's bottoms.
Me: Well. Yes, I suppose it is.
Evan: Why?

Oh, man. He makes it too easy.

For my family

Dear Grandma,

It's a beautiful fall day. The weather is starting to turn, the kind of day that just makes you happy. I've been thinking about you a lot this week.

I wanted to tell you how much I miss you. Sometimes, three years later, I still feel a big hole. The knowledge that you were there always made the world just a little better. I wish badly that I could talk to you, and share with you. Just to update you on the news. We're still the same loud, loving, opinionated family you oversaw... with a few personnel changes.

We had another baby-- I have three little boys! Cory and Anthony had a baby, too (did you even know they had gotten married?). Eric got married to Vicki and they had an adorable little girl. Cassie and Matt have a little girl who looks exactly like her mommy. Kati and JP added a little boy. Chris and Jennie adopted a little girl, and on the day of your funeral Jennie told me she just felt that was going to happen. Erin and Jeremy are having another baby very (!) soon. And Ali and Dustin are adopting a little boy in December. (Did I forget anyone? Maybe....) How many great-grandchildren does this make? A lot....

And we're still growing up and moving around and moving on. Annie's in South Korea. Phil's in Sweden. Laura's in college (she's so old!). Erin and Jeremy moved. We moved. Cassie and Cory are in Chicago. I don't even know what everyone else is up to.

And. We lost Barb this summer. You would be so proud of her boys, Grandma. I know we all wish we could make it easier for them, but they did everything right by their mom. Even in the sadness, I know how happy that would make you. And Jennie is sick now. We know she's going to fight and win-- we just want to give her all the strength and love in the world.

A lot of us will be together this weekend, because Mike's getting married to Tammy! We'll think of you, and wish you could be there with us, and wish we could have a wheelchair dance with you. We'll have plenty of fun for you, and I'll be sure to let you know what the menu is.

Anyway. Thank you, Grandma. Even when I miss you the most, I can think about this wonderful family that you gave us and it immediately brings me peace. They are the best gift you could have left. And through each other, we will always have you.

With special guest star...

...Uncle Dustin!

Dustin is my sister's husband. He has a Very Important Job which takes him to Lots of Places. (Which, by the way, I think my sister hates. But she'll live.) This week he was traveling in our area and dropped in to witness the glamour that is our lives. I think he was overwhelmed by the excitement, which included (brace yourselves): second-grade homework, meatloaf, tooth-brushing, bedtime, and a scrumptious breakfast of oatmeal. I hope he survives the letdown of leaving us.

The coolest things about Dustin, as told by Jensen and Evan:

• He can fix any electronics.


• He can install things on the computer that Dad can't.


• He goes to work everywhere.


• He can make great paper airplanes.


• He lives with Charlie (the amazing horse-dog).


• He has a really big tv.


• He's a professional surfer and skateboarder. And can do any dangerous sport. Like Motocross.

These things are all true, except the last part. I don't know anything about him having a secret professional extreme sports life.

And here's another awesome thing about Dustin: in just three (or so) months, he's going to be a Dad. Click here for a photo of his son-to-be. He'll have his very own little boy to impress with his surfing skills....

Hello, Marlon? Marlon Perkins?

Evan, jumping wildly up and down, was unable to control his excitement. "There's a snake in the driveway!" he kept repeating. I didn't really believe him, or thought maybe it was a garter snake (bad enough). But, yep. A snake. And, nope. Not a garter snake. It was coiled up, head flattened, striking out at my kids who didn't have the common sense to keep away. Rattlesnake.

Granted, it was only about eight or ten inches long. But! Wait! My husband says baby snakes are actually more dangerous than the grown-up kind. My first thought was to scoop it up with a shovel and dump it, I don't know, somewhere. But then I thought, "What if it can jump and bites me and I keel over and the kids are left alone?" I really thought this. Do snakes jump? Probably not, but you can't be too careful. Then I thought about getting our massive tractor lawnmower and running over the evil creature about 18 times, but decided that would take too long and that it would devour one of the kids before I could get the job done.

So we just went into the house. The kids are now forbidden to play outside barefoot.

Remember, I'm an Iowa girl. To me, "wildlife" means cows and rabbits. (Which can be very dangerous, by the way. If they are packing firearms.) I am not used to all these human-eating animals.

We have coyotes. They go crazy howling in the middle of the night. I had no idea what they were, but my Great Outdoorsman husband taught me. "Don't worry," he said. "They're at least a mile away." I think this was supposed to be comforting.

Turtles. Of all kinds, and sometimes they come into our garage. The troubling ones are the snapping turtles, which could easily break one of the kids in half. A few months ago, during Turtle Migration Season (I actually don't know if this exists, but there were a lot of turtles on the move) we saw a fine specimen about half a mile up the road. Easily two and a half feet across. I thought it was a small dinosaur.

Birds of prey. Constantly soaring over our house, looking very grand. The kids have been instructed not to lay motionless in the yard.

Oh, and the oversexed owl, who attempts to seduce us all night long. With a deep, intimate, whisper-in-your-ear voice. Not unlike Isaac Hayes. Except he's an owl.

Lizards. They don't look like gila monsters or komodo dragons, so I think we're okay here. But they still live in my yard.

To my knowledge, none of these creatures has thumbs, so they probably lack the ability to open doors and get into the house and swipe one of the children. Just in case, though, we have a security system. Which I'm pretty sure is intended to warn us of human invaders, but the animals seem like a more immediate threat.

But even the security system won't work against the snakes, who (no doubt) have located a drainpipe by which they can crawl into one of our toilets and wait in ambush to bite someone's hind end. I'm just not sure what to do about the snakes.