Today My Two-Year-Old Son

drew all over the walls--

twice--

and drew all over his sisters' dresser and desk.

he got marker all over a bedspread.  said bedspread was washed three times.  the marker faded, but the comforter is stained.

he got pink frosting all over the futon

and pushed a kid at playgroup

and shortly afterward grabbed the same kid in a headlock and threw him down.

he made mud pies at the park

and refused to take a nap

and stayed for a mere ten minutes in "quiet time."

he threw cars at his sister's head

and left a trail of snacks at Target.

he pushed a chair up to the counter

and reeaacchhed for my Coke, helping himself

and he found a cookie and helped himself to that, too.

he yanked apart the train track moments after his dad constructed it.

he took apart the laundry i had just folded

and yanked off his socks two seconds after i put them on, twice,

and he let the water in the sink run...and run....

he wrenched open the (child-proofed) DVD cabinet

and spent a delightful ten minutes opening cases and extracting their contents.

he got two timeouts

and lots of "no's!"

and, unfortunately, a spanking.

i prayed all day, to get through the day.

and i survived.

barely.

at the end of the day, he gave me a hug

and laid his little blond head on my shoulder

and sucked his thumb

and reminded me that yes, he is precious

and mine

and i love him.

and he gave me the courage to do it all again tomorrow.

Stake Conference

My rear end scarcely brushes the seat of the folding chair when I am up and running again.  With an over-the-shoulder call to Emma to "help Nathan stay reverent," I make a beeline for the chapel's rear exit.

He escaped out this door just moments ago, chubby legs running running running as fast as possible--which these days is quite fast.  His twin sister, in her gorgeous white-and-blue smocked dress, followed suit.

She is only just ahead of me, and I lunge to grab her billowing skirt as it disappears out the door, but my way is stalled by an old man and his cane, which occupies much of the doorway.

I tear off down the hall, looking for glimpses of two little white-blond heads among the sea of people.

They. Are. Nowhere.

My high heels slip off my feet as I speed down the hallway.  I pause to kick off my shoes and tuck them momentarily in a coat closet. And then I continue around the octagonal building.

I hear them long before I see them.

I find them laying face down and side-by-side smack dab in the middle of a long hallway.  Their hands are buried in their faces.  They are giggling hysterically.

I stifle a laugh.  This is serious business.

With a stern, "NO, babies.  Obey Mommy. Naughty babies. No running away from Mommy," I pick them each up by their collars--one in each hand.

They easily wiggle out of my clutch and take off running again.

This time I find them at the water fountains, giving each other a mid-morning shower as they attempt to get a drink.

I load them in my arms and carry them back to the chapel.  One pokes the other in the eye.  "Owie, Maddy!" he proclaims, whilst reaching out and yanking his sister's ponytail.  She shrieks and attempts to bite him.

I clasp my hand over her mouth and declare, "NO BITE."

Both twins are crying.  Madeline's hair is askew.  Isaac's shirt is soaking wet.

"Do you guys want a snack?" I ask.  They both nod, stop crying, and stick their thumbs in their mouths.

Still barefoot, I collapse back into my seat in the chapel and reach for the fruit snacks.

It's 10:02 a.m.

The Stake President, who is presiding over Stake Conference,* stands and says, "Brothers and sisters, we welcome you here today.  Our opening hymn will be...."



*Stake Conference is a semi-annual gathering of between six and nine congregations of our church in a geographical area.  It is a two-hour meeting in which church members are counseled and taught by local church leaders.  For people sans young children, it is generally a wonderful event.  For people with young children, keeping those children quiet and content for two hours can prove a challenge.  

The Machine

You mothers of school-aged children know about this.

It's what I affectionately call "The Machine"--or the coordination of the lessons and activities of multiple children. It is a herculean feat of organization to get it running efficiently, with the least hassle, with the best schedule for the whole family and not just for the child involved.

As the years progress and my kids get older--and when the twins are added to the mix--I am certain that The Machine will get more and more complex.

But this year in particular, getting The Machine up and running was a doozy.

The challenges:

*Moving to a huge metropolitan area and having no clue where things are located

*Moving to a mecca of arts and culture (seriously, this area is aMAZing for the arts), where there are 100 choices for each activity and interest

*Moving to an area where, frankly, few people have larger families and few are understanding of the complexities surrounding scheduling demands

*Moving to an area where I knew no one who could give input on schools and instructors

*Moving to an area where there are not carpooling options...yet

*Moving to an area where school gets out much later in the day, therefore making 95% of all after-school activities over the dinner hour

*Having children with varied needs and interests and activities

*Having two extremely active two-year-olds in tow for everything

*Having a spouse with a highly unpredictable schedule

*Having a strong desire to clump activities into as few afternoons as possible, so that we're not racing around all week long

It was a bit overwhelming.

I spent hours upon hours doing Internet research. I called a recent acquaintances to get input. I called acquaintances of my recent acquaintances to get recommendations. I emailed schools. I talked to school directors and teachers. From all this, I narrowed down the huge list of options to something more manageable.

Then, I Mapquested directions and distances to and from our house. I studied the various school's schedules for dance lessons and music classes. I learned where the closest soccer leagues play. I further narrowed down the choices solely based on whether or not my kids could be in classes or lessons simultaneously or back-to-back. If the school didn't have that option--no matter how good the school was--it was axed. I had to make a few compromises. And just this week, during the first week of lessons, I am having to make a few more changes.

But by next week, The Machine should be up and running beautifully.

Because if there's one thing I've learned as a mother, it's this: This mommy of five has to stay sane. I refuse to be an acrobat. If the activity can't work into the flow of the entire family's needs and activities, then the activity can't happen at all.

That's my soapbox for tonight. Good night.

Kindergarten

Nathan on his first day.

And So It Ends...

For Now.

There were five or six hours of blissful success.

Using the potty was fun, it seemed, for my little duo.

Teaching the doll the potty process was even more fun, for my little duo.

I was so very proud when one of them pee peed four times and did #2 once, within the first four hours, and when the other one also met some success.

They enjoyed their thirst-inducing snacks and their large quantities of beverages.

I was certain that they would be trained within two weeks.

Until one of them realized he was being coerced into submission.

And that same one realized that he could just...refuse to be cooperative.

And the other one soon realized that she could just...be like her brother.

After that, the potties got kicked across the room. With a vengeance. Multiple times.

And then the potties got worn as hats. Used as toy bins. Used as step stools. Used as flower pots. Used as weapons.

The mere suggestion of practicing, or dry pants, or wet pants, or potty treats, or dollies going pee pee, or toddlers going pee pee, or sitting on the potty, brought about screams.

One of them searched the house for his diapers. He even looked in the kitchen cabinets and in the fridge. By Day Two, he accepted that his diapers were gone, and he finally was willing to put on his underpants. But sitting on the potty? No way.

The other one just kept pee peeing on the floor, over and over and over again.

On the morning of Day Two, I cleaned up fifteen pee pee accidents in three hours, while also trying to help the big kids practice their instruments, make breakfast and lunches, and get everyone to school on time.

I was crying by 8 a.m. that day. Kneeling on the floor, mopping up pee pee, and crying.

The day only went downhill from there.

By the time nighttime rolled around on that second day, I was beyond exhausted. We pulled out diapers from the attic--just for bedtime--and resolved to continue the process the next morning.

But on Day Three, a 5 a.m. phone call from hubby, informing me that this happened once again--only worse this time--threw off my plans for the day.

Three days later, they are still in diapers. We'll try again in a month. Or maybe when they're twelve.

***

(Yes, we had another burglary in our garage. Much more was stolen the second time than the first. The cars were ransacked, and it was not fun to discover. We are taking measures to prevent it from happening again. We do live in a very safe neighborhood, but apparently we have become a target for some creep. Not a good feeling. Our insurance is covering a small--very small--portion of what was stolen. In the end, it's just stuff, and no one broke into the house--thank goodness--and we'll be fine.)

And So It Begins

The New Girls

Each of my girls was "The New Girl" at school today, on their first day.

In a small neighborhood school, being "The New Girl" is a big deal. Thankfully, the other kids (and a few parents and teachers) were watching out for these cuties.

My girls were very excited. And nervous. Especially the older one.

They get to walk to school this year. On September 1, the weather suddenly changed. The shorts and flip flops are gone, and now we have...wind. And chill. And the promise of a long, cold winter ahead. So they wore jackets on the first day.

Nathan starts next Monday.

At the end of the day, the happy girls gave happy reports, of introductions and invitations for lunch--recess play--and general friendship.

All is well.

State Fair

We live very close to the state fairgrounds. The annual state fair here is one of the biggest in the country, if not the biggest. Two million people have descended on our area over the last twelve days.

Today was the last day of the fair, and we went to see it.

The crowds were epic.

But the exhibits were impressive. We saw tons of animals, including a really neat building full of baby animals that have been born during the time of the fair (and their mothers of course). We enjoyed a horse show. The cow milking. The many shops and agricultural exhibits. The fine arts building. People watching. The rides. It is really quite an event, one that we will not soon forget.

Here is just a smattering of pictures from the day.

Cultural Experience

Attending the State Fair proved to be a cultural experience, mostly in terms of cuisine.

Below is a sampling of the many, um, "foods" we saw offered.

I will try to refrain from commenting.

This hard-to-read sign says "fried chocolate sandwiches."

Brian had to try out this one. For a mere $3.50, he got himself a deep-fried Snickers bar.

And he also tried out the shrimp-on-a-stick. Thankfully not deep fried.

My personal favorite:

We passed by this vendor and Clara said, "What's a Twinkie?"

This mom has never been more proud.