Happy Birthday Hilary

Have a Great Birthday.
Love B

Puppies like Starbursts

I know this because of the colorful Starburst wrappers surrounding the smiling, chewing pup. Yes, he somehow managed to unwrap them. Well, either that or he ate a lot more than it appears, wrapper and all. I suppose I should be glad he spared the kids the cavities. I was kind of looking forward to just one though.

A Mother's Run

So, I'm not always laughing. Sometimes, I'm running. This has been a string of days that I just haven't found very amusing. Even good subject matter, such as chasing the puppy around the house to get my shoe back...that would be the shoe that I was actually wearing before it was (and I'm really not sure how) puppynapped right off my foot; or the double sleepover that left my house in such disarray that I'm not even sure where exactly to start (a book of matches did cross my mind ever so briefly). But, alas, none of these things has inspired me with humor. And then it hit me, I've missed my run. "A Mother's Run" was the result of today's elusive run. While these words aren't funny, they capture my essence of the release we all need to keep our patience and respond with kind, loving words to the inevitable nonsense that is thrown at us throughout a day of parenthood.

Gluten / Wheat Free Diet

I'm having trouble finding funny things today. Unless, you count the evil glare the back of my head is getting from the hungry, puffy cat, whose name is Puff btw. His eyes are slits, from which he is shooting Feed Me!. I keep rolling my chair back and slowly getting closer and closer to his face, until he looks away as if he spotted something interesting on the floor. It won't be long before he'll be plopped on my keyboard, glaring Feed Me! directly into my eyes, at which point I will feed him. So, I don't have long.

I put a Reader's Poll on the site today. Very unscientific I know! This is not to pry or be weird or anything (well the verdict is still out on the weird thing). I have noticed that everywhere I go these days I run into people who are feeding their children gluten-free or wheat-free diets. Many of them, like myself, don't have any diagnosed reasons for this. Nonetheless, (like me) they know it is helping their little one with the frequent stomachaches, headaches, bowel issues, and some have even seen sensory integration issues improve. I, myself, realized that I don't tolerate wheat, after doing the Queen's Cleanse (more about the cleanse later). At the time I realized this about myself, I had one of the twins seeing doctors to determine the cause of frequent headaches and stomach issues. Nothing was ever discovered as the cause of his headaches and stomach problems; however adjusting his diet to a wheat-free diet has helped significantly. Neither of us has tested positive for celiacs. I would love to know what it is about the diet that is working for us, but hesitate to start with GI docs and invasive testing procedures and such. If you have experiences with this with your own family, I'd love to hear from you. If I get responses, I'll pull together a gluten-free recipies and tips page. The diet is really not as hard as it initially sounds!

Oh Crap

So I'm in the car with the kids, getting ready to back out of the driveway. Now, 'Oh Crap' is not something I like to hear, even on a good day. But, after cleaning orange juice out of practically the whole kitchen, it kind of seemed fitting. Especially coming on the heels of, "Hey boys! Watch I can spit all the way to the bushes". I close my eyes, because I'm pretty sure that his window wasn't open. I open my eyes slowly, one at a time, as if somehow this will change the outcome. As the wad slowly oozes down from the window glass onto the side of the door, my attention is caught by the fine line of spittle still attached to his lip, linking him to the window like a clothes-line to a tree. In a panicky voice, he exclaims, "ah, what do I do?", and I notice his eyes. The surprise and innocence that I seldom see anymore in those pre-teen eyes bring me back to him as maybe 3 years old, standing before me with his hopelessly broken toy asking me to "tape it". It is the twins' laughter from the back that pulls my attention back to the moment and the anxiousness of the spitter. I reach down and pull out a wet wipe from the console, hand it to him and say, "You missed the bushes".

It was time for a good cleaning anyway...

Ever wondered what it would look like if someone laid a full carton of orange juice on it's side in the bottom of the fridge and didn't put the cover back on it, oh, and immediately left the house for hours? Behold! It even drips down and pools underneath. But, now the kitchen has a nice fruity scent, and besides, it was time for a good cleaning. So far, it was either Daddy or Not Me. My bet is on Not Me.

Here's a Tip - Proactive Flushing

Warning - Potty tawk. You know when one of the little ones has done his business and deposited half the roll of toilet paper in the bowl before leaving it; because, obviously, it IS unflushable. You walk through and it is coiling up out of the bowl like a white cobra, ready to strike. Here's a trick my mother taught me...take the plunger and use it to move the excess paper up against the side of the bowl; leaving in the water only enough to successfully flush, and then flush. Once the bowl is filled again, let down more and flush again. This way you can avoiding facing your own childhood fears, as you stand there, white-knuckled grip on that plunger, watching the water level rise, rise, rise. So, don't let those toilet cobras rattle you -- be proactive, Mom!

Here's what I mean...

Now I have three boys, and boys are messy little critters. I suspect it wouldn't be that much different if they were girls, as I have distinct memories of mud oozing through my fingers. But, alas, I have boys and they come equipped with extra large, loving hearts, which makes up for the eternally messy exterior. The moment for today involves not-suprisingly messy fingers and a little blond-headed dutch-boy. That would be one of the twins, Andrew. They are 8 years old and recently got the worst haircut I think I've ever seen. They wear it well, though, with the sun-bleached, beach-bum thing they've got going right now. Anyway, we were at a family cookout and we had made our plates and were getting ready to eat. As we were headed to the table, he noticed something gross on the ground and instinctively bent down and picked it up. I winced and ewwed and said that he's going to be eating with those fingers. Now, you and I know what I meant, and should've said, was 'now go wash your hands before eating'. Need I say it? Before I even had the chance to protest, the fingers got cleaned in the most efficient way possible...slurp, in they went, a good lick and out of his mouth they came. With a huge smile, he said "All clean". Oh Yum.