Eight is Enough

I commented about the Duggar Family giving birth to #18. Now I feel the need to comment about the woman who just gave birth to octuplets. Yikes! Eight all at once! Ouch. Not only did she have eight babies, she has six more at home. Six more? 

I certainly hope she's done with the baby production. The baby factory should close after octuplets. Yahoo had a good commentary piece about how humans are not meant to have litters of babies. Frankly, we don't have enough...you know...milk jugs.

But more importantly, this is my reason to stop having big families (like the Duggars) and to possibly stop at two:

Population Increases and the issue with Climate Change

When a friend of mine made the decision not to have children, I applauded her for it. She had many reasons for her decision and she found a boyfriend who agreed with her view. However, she ran into many people who just didn't understand why she didn't want kids. She doesn't owe them a reason since it's her personal choice, but I gave her one that won't offend anyone: "I am controlling population growth, which is better for the environment." My friend is not a "green" person (not like me at least), but she did like this reasoning. Plus she didn't have to go into the real reasons behind her decision, which (again) aren't anyone's business. 

I fully support adoption, since there are many children who live in orphanages dreaming of having families of their own. I would rather see the Duggars adopt 18 children than give birth to 18 and the same goes for the octuplet mama. 

Don't get me wrong, I love my kids, but we had only intended on having one and then Miles came along. We are definitely done with two. Two is enough for us. Someday Caitlynn and Miles will be faced with the baby-making decision. Note to Caitlynn and Miles: I don't want 18 blood-related grandchildren. Too many kids to spoil. If they're all adopted...fine. Let the spoiling begin. I'm fully aware of the double standard. 

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She Means It

Caitlynn has started reinforcing what I say to Miles. 

Here's a sample:

Me to Miles: "Don't eat all the gummy bears or else you'll get a stomach ache."

Miles to Me: "I want the gummy bears, though."

Me to Miles: "No."

Caitlynn (in the background): "She means it."

OR

Me to Miles: "Clean up your toys or I'm going to throw them away."

Caitlynn (again, in the background): "She means it."

Is it me or has Caitlynn finally started listening to what I say? Can't be. No way. My Caitlynn actually listen to moi. 

I'm glad to have the reinforcement when Miles starts whining and complaining that I won't let him eat the whole box of Lucky Charms (absolute favorite cereal in this house) without getting a tummy ache. Caitlynn will always have my back -- "She means it."

Thanks, Caty.

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Dr. Evil

Yes, the kids have seen Austin Powers, thanks to Joe. Miles has been saying "Yeah, baby" every time he does something great, but I think I already wrote about this.

Well, the movie influenced on the kids even more than I thought. Lately they've been using the Dr. Evil laugh. I hear it all day. I think they're plotting something. Perhaps taking the world hostage for 1 million dollars. (Hey - 1 million dollars is a lot of money to us. Do you know how many gum balls you could buy with 1 million dollars? A lot.)

In our move, we lost a bunch of DVDs -- mostly kids movies (I think they were thrown away on accident), and Austin Powers was one of them. 

So sad. No more Austin Powers. 

But we also lost our Spongebob DVDs, Samurai Jack, Muppet Show, and worst of all -- the Spiderman movies (1, 2, and 3). 

Now that is really sad. 

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Bye Neema

We had to say goodbye to Caitlynn's BFF, Neema. Neema is a year older than Caitlynn and lived in the apartment below us. She's from Tanzania but she is here with her parents and sisters while her father completes his PhD. 

Caitlynn will surely miss her.

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I'm not gum. I'm Gumby.

Who knew gum could be so fascinating. To my little kids, gum is like...well...better than sliced bread. 

My poor kids had to spend what seemed like an eternity sitting between Joe and I as we drove in a big moving truck. Is 2 1/2 days considered an eternity? In our case, yes it is. 

We didn't have much room for toys or games or fun things to play with, so the kids had to actually use their imaginations to fight boredom. That's where gum comes into play. Give them each a piece of Trident and for at least 2 hours, they have something to do -- blow bubbles, wrap it around your finger, chew really fast, chew really slow, pull it, stretch it over your finger. The uses are endless.  

Other items to occupy their time: a dollar bill, a McD's cup and a straw and a crushed up Cheeto (seriously -- they had a whole "cooking" thing going on), and a small panda bear (the mascot of the trip). 

Who needs Nintendo DS, when you can give your kids a dollar bill and some gum to play with? 

Imagination.

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And we're off

Signing off for a couple of days while we journey west to our new home. A new adventure awaits us. 

Posting resumes next week. 

Have a good weekend!

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Call 911! Barbie down!

Cops were called to the scene today as Caitlynn and Miles uncovered a gruesome tragedy in the toy box. Down in the bottom of the bin was the head to one of Caitlynn's Barbies. A headless Barbie is on the loose in the house. Later in the day, we found her leg tucked away in a pile of Barbie clothes. 

Cops suspect foul play. 

Who would have beheaded a beautiful Barbie and then de-legged her? Headless and legless, this Barbie is probably lost somewhere in the confines of our apartment. The search party has yet to find any trace of her mangled body and they are losing hope. One member of the search party is certain the rest of her body is under the couch while another is almost positive she's under Caitlynn's bed. Wherever she is, hope is they'll find her soon.

Who's the likely suspect? Let's look at the possibilities.

Suspect 1: Caitlynn -- She plays with her Barbies every day. She probably noticed the leg laying among all of the Barbie clothes and yet she didn't tell anyone. Who is she covering for? 

Suspect 2: Miles -- He's been known to be a bit rough on some of the toys. ok - all of the toys. What's his motive behind such a grotesque act of beheading a Barbie? 

Suspects 3-20: The rest of the Barbies. Girls fight. Mostly they fight over boys and clothes. It could be that a nasty fight erupted over a dress and it got ugly. It would explain finding her leg in a pile of clothes and her head dumped in the toy bin. 

I think we need Dexter (the serial killer on Showtime) to help solve the case. I'm sure he could figure it out.  The cops here are clueless. Plus the crime scene is compromised, thanks to Miles.

More info as it comes in...

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Is that...?

It's not like I'm indoctrinating Miles into my political beliefs. Sure, Joe and I are very interested in politics. We often talk about news and current events at the dinner table. The kids overhear our conversations, but they don't fully understand the subjects of which we are the self-proclaimed experts. 

However, Miles has picked up on way more than I realize. With Caitlynn, I fully expected her to know who President Obama is since schools taught kids about the election process. And we do live in Obama-land, Chicago (more specifically, his neighborhood of Hyde Park), and after the election, the Obama-mania took over our quiet little neighborhood. 

But Miles has been protected from most of this. He hasn't met Obama (incidentally, neither have I). He doesn't watch the news or even pay attention to the various media outlets that have decided to film or photograph many places of interest in our neighborhood. Rather, Miles spends his days trying to count to ten, learning his colors and watching his favorite shows or playing his favorite games online. 

However, every time Miles sees a picture of Obama, he has to point it out. I'm not sure when he put the name to the face. He doesn't know who anyone else is -- GW Bush, McCain, Palin, Biden, or even our impeached governor, Mr. Blago (I'm not spelling out his name; too long) and these people have their pictures in the papers, too and we talk about them, as well. But it's Obama that Miles knows by name. 

We subscribe to Newsweek and each time Miles sees Obama's photo on the cover, he says, "Is that Barack Obama?" Yes, Miles it is. Walking past the newspaper stand, noticing the covers of the papers, Miles says, once again, "Is that Barack Obama?" Um. Hello! Yes, Miles it is Obama. Where have you been?

Yesterday when we were in CVS Pharmacy waiting to check out and Miles decided to walk over to a display of Jones soda pop. On the cartons was a picture of Obama (I guess everyone is trying to profit off his image) and Miles shouts to everyone in the store, "It's Barack Obama!" People just giggled at my innocent son who was clueless as to why that would be funny. He thought he was just doing a public service and informing everyone.

Thanks for letting us know, Miles. I can go on with my day now.

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Hannah, it's time to go.

I'm beginning to regret getting cable. If it wasn't for certain channels that I love (Food Network, History Channel, Comedy Central, HBO) we wouldn't have cable. That means Caitlynn and Miles wouldn't have Spongebob, Ben 10, Chowder, Shark Boy and Lava Girl (what is this anyway??), Zack and Cody, and Hannah Montana. 

No more Hannah. What an awesome day that would be. 

We were successful in keeping Miss Miley Cyrus out of our living room for the past few years until Caitlynn's BFF, Neema, turned on the Disney channel one day. Neema is no longer on the good list. Bad, Neema. Very bad. 

Now I have a daughter obsessed with Hannah Montana, aka, Miley Cyrus. She has to watch the show every single flippin day of the year. Caitlynn even tries to talk like her -- What? What! Say what? -- I think that's how it goes. I don't know. I haven't been able to sit through a whole episode before my eyes explode and my brain goes to mush. 

Poor Miles. It's really limiting his doses of Spongebob and Ben 10. Spongebob is a show I can sit and watch and actually enjoy. No wonder he'd rather play Pacman online (seriously -- he loves it!) than sit through an episode of a crazy teenage girl. 

This whole Miley Cyrus mania has got to stop and for our little family, it's only just begun. I realize that other families have been going through this longer. I feel so bad for you. I don't know how you do it.

I'd rather stick needles in my eyes. 

In case you are wondering (and I know you are), this the band I worship and their new single.

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Ready! Aim! Fire!

For the life of me, I can't figure out why boys miss the toilet bowl. 

Miles even marked the toilet with a black "X." Well, he marked many things with black X's, but that's besides the point. 

He's been getting the potty thing down and for that I'm happy, until I walk in the bathroom and find a puddle of urine in front of the bowl, urine dripping from the cabinet and a small pool of the yellow stuff by the door. WTF, Miles?

Is it that hard to miss? The toilet is a major component in a bathroom. First there's the sink (too high to pee in unless you stand on the toilet or on a chair). Then there's the bathing area, either a standing shower or a bathtub (with a shower). Lastly is the toilet. It usually sits in the middle of the room waiting to be used. You can't miss it. It's right there. See it? Most of the time the toilet is white. Some people have pink or blue toilets to match the bathroom walls (these are the people still stuck in 1985). I always feel funny peeing on a pink toilet. Too fancy for me. Caitlynn would probably like a pink toilet or a Barbie one. Do they make Spiderman toilets? Miles might actually like using a Spiderman toilet. 

But it still makes me wonder how you miss. It's not like you're aiming at a tiny hole the size of a pin-head or even the size of a tin cup. It's not Alcatraz, you know. It's a rather large circle (or oval to be exact). One should be able to hit the mark. You would think.

Potty training takes a special type of patience and mine is quickly running out.

My next question for Miles is: After you get done peeing and are washing your hands for what seems like an eternity (10 minutes), is there a reason you have to stand at the sink with your pants and undies down to your ankles? Just curious. 

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Happy Birthday!

It's my birthday. No gifts, please. 

Just so you know today is also Muhammad Ali and Jim Carrey's birthdays. Make sure you send a card.

Capricorns rule! Or so we think...

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This is what I get

It's been shredding madness lately in our house. I'm shredding everything. Family pictures? Gone to the shredder. Family tree and genealogy stuff? Eaten by the shredder. Marriage license? Shredded. Birth Certificates? Gone, too.

Kidding. 

Really, I'm shredding old pieces of a paper that have our SSNs on them. I alluded to this on my other blog about our upcoming move. Lots of old paperwork has now been successfully shredded with the help of Caitlynn and Miles. 

I decided to venture into the computer room while Miles and Caitlynn were happily shredding a pile of old documents. I thought every thing was fine. I thought they would diligently do their task as asked and nothing else. Boy, I have a lot to learn. 

I was alerted to the mess when Caitlynn came into the computer room where I was sorting through a pile of CDs. (Do I need copies of "print shop" or Turbo tax 2003?) Caitlynn says to me, "Um, Mama. Miles is making a mess."

"What kind of mess?"

"A big one."

So, off I go to see what my son is doing. The picture shows exactly what I saw. Shredded paper all over the floor. 

Of course they helped clean it up. 

I threatened their lives if they didn't. 

But this is what I get for leaving them alone with the shredder. Lesson learned.

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Snow Day

One of the best things about growing up in a rural area is you were always guaranteed of a couple of snow days (and fog days and ice days and even 2-hour delay days) each year. I grew up in an area where the back roads usually didn't get plowed, unless a farmer or some other person with a plow felt the need to plow the road around his house. This meant that buses couldn't travel down these roads and hence, causing school to be closed.

I loved it. Waking up at 6:30 to listen to the radio and hoping and praying that my school would be announced on the long list of cancellations. After hearing a favorable announcement, I simply stayed in bed in my cold room (old farmhouse without heat on the 2nd level) underneath a pile of blankets and quilts. Best. Day. Ever.

Caitlynn, unfortunately (in this case), attends Chicago Public Schools. Today the temperature reads -9ºF with a wind chill of -23ºF (for those reading this in other countries: -23ºC and -31ºC respectively). It's the coldest day on record since 1996. Most schools in the area are closed, except for Chicago Public schools. Chicago hasn't closed for a weather-related day in over 10 years. It makes me wonder what their threshold is in order to close schools for a day? -50ºF and 3 feet of snow? Blizzard conditions? We already have 1 foot of snow on the ground and temperatures to stay below zero throughout the day. Isn't that enough? I guess not. 

I have to walk Caitlynn 5 blocks to her school and I have to drag little Miles along with me. It's 5 blocks of torture one way and 5 blocks of pure hell the way back. Caitlynn will be late and I don't care. We're taking our sweet time getting ready for the blast of arctic air that will hit us once we open the door. 

Wish us luck.  

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Finally!

Parenting Magazine did a story about homework. I usually don't read this particular magazine, but I do watch the Today show and they had the editor on to talk about the article.

I thought I was the only parent to despise homework. I didn't like it when I was in high school and that's the reason I made sure I got my work done during school hours (study halls were awesome). After school meant being free from busy work. It also meant staring at the TV for a few hours or getting lost in a good book and then sitting down with the family for dinner and then watching more TV (oh and participating in sports activities). I don't remember having homework until sixth grade and even then it was minimal. I was a good student but absolutely hated bringing work home. 

When Caitlynn was in Kindergarten she had worksheets to do once a week. That wasn't too bad. We had five days to complete the worksheet and she usually didn't mind it. Then came 1st grade and her teacher piled it on 5 days per week. It was only supposed to take 20 minutes each night but with the reading logs, the math problems, and the writing prompts, it ended up taking 1-2 hours each night. So much work for a 6-7 year old. It stressed me out and it stressed Caitlynn out. It prompted me to write about one particular ordeal where Caitlynn basically refused to cooperate. I don't really blame her. It was too much work.

Her 2nd grade teacher doles out less homework each night, which is a welcome sight but I still hate having to sit down with Caitlynn and force her to add a bunch of numbers together. She prefers creative-based homework as opposed to long math sheets. She loses patience after 15 minutes or so. I lose patience after 5. Perhaps we can meet in the middle. 

Now I don't feel so bad when I open up Caitlynn's folder and groan after seeing yet another boring math worksheet. I'm sure there are other parents out there, as the article in Parenting Magazine suggests, that feel the same way I do. Enough already. It's time to let kids be kids. Plus, I could use a break, too since I'm the one sitting there forcing my child to finish a sheet that she clearly does not want to do.

I should write a note to her teacher.

"I'd rather be watching Lost. Stop with the addition problems. I already know how to add."

Think she'll understand?

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Facebook and Parenting...

Check out this video about Facebook and the effects it has on being a parent.

I'm on Facebook but I'm not on there very often -- maybe 1-3 times per week. I can go a couple weeks without even logging in. However, I am on Blogger every single day either writing for my various blogs and taking the time to visit other blogs. So, in a sense, Blogger is my Facebook much like how soap operas were the Facebook of the 70s and 80s. Don't believe me? Watch Mr. Mom and you'll see what I mean. Perhaps that's why no one watches them anymore. They are competing with Facebook (and Blogger). (Ever notice that the same actors are still on some of these soaps and that they never seem to age. Amazing.)

It's an interesting issue of balancing parenting and playing around on the internet. I do the bulk of my writing at night when the kids are asleep. It's too hard to concentrate on a post if they are around me. 

I often wonder what it would be like without the internet. I remember growing up without it, yes, but that seems so long ago. When Caitlynn was a baby, I went back to work and Joe stayed home with her. Even in 2001, the internet wasn't a major part of our lives like it is now. This issue will be raised again and all I can say is that I'm guilty of ignoring my kids while I'm reading another blog or a news article or checking the weather or doing a crossword puzzle or shopping for new shoes. I have to force myself off the computer to get things done. 

But it's all for the good, I presume. Caitlynn enjoys reading this blog and I like writing. 

It's all about what makes you happy.

Time to go! Got things to do...

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punishments

I think it's time that I start preparing Caitlynn and Miles for Jr. High School. Caitlynn will be 8 in May and Miles will be 4 in March. They're ready. 

We all know the pre-teen and early teen years are the hardest. Kids are struggling to find their own identity, dealing with growing pains, and intrusive parents. In my efforts to prepare them for this trying time in life, I'm going to start punishing them as if they are in 7th grade algebra class or gym.

• Swirlies
  
• Kick me signs posted on their backs
  
• Noogies
  
• Tripping them as they walk by
  
• Wedgies
  

Other good things to do to the kids:

• tickle them until they wet their pants
  
• telling them the boogey man lives in the basement
  

You may think I'm mean, but I am the youngest in my family and I've dealt with some of this stuff. I didn't have anyone to pick on until now. (Well, I did pick on my niece who was 9 years younger than me. That was fun. Sorry, Courtney.) 

It's time we start preparing our kids for their futures. A future of getting teased. Toughen them up a bit. Make them stronger. They can handle it. 

Trust me.

Total Chaos

What happens when you take another blogger, her two crazy kids, and add them to yours? 

Lipstick.

Oh wait. Wrong joke.

Total chaos.

Stormy, one of my closest and dearest friends, came to help me pack my stuff. She brought her two wild and crazy boys, Zane and Stone, along for the ride. We got a lot done, thanks to Stormy's ingenious packing abilities. 

The kids got along great. Caitlynn taught Stone (22 months old) how to head bang and he head banged his head into the bed, causing a swollen eye. Oops! I didn't realize Caitlynn knew how to head bang. I'm quite impressed, actually. I wonder if she'll like Iron Maiden or Ratt. 

Miles and Zane had a fantastic time jumping on the bed, stomping on the floor, kicking the walls, and fighting over what cartoon to watch on TV. Our neighbors below us will be happy when Zane leaves. But then again, this is normal activity. They'll be happy when we move out.

All this fun must come to an end though and Stormy is heading home to see her husband who has a striking resemblance to J.S. Bach, according to Stone. What does he know, anyway? He's only a baby.

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Watch out!

Football injuries plague even the greatest sports teams, including my beloved Cleveland Browns. Yes, the Browns. Love them even when they lose (which is quite often). 

My brother, Mike, loves football and incidentally, the Browns are his favorite team, too. Wow. It's amazing how that happens - a whole family rooting for the same team. Amazing. Anyhoo...Mike played football in high school. Since he is 5 years older and ruled over me, I had to obey his wishes, like when he dragged me outside to hold the football for him as he practiced kicking. He wasn't the kicker for the team, mind you. Not even close - he was a full back (I think) that ran the ball. Why he had to practice kicking, I don't know. I'm just glad I don't have to hold the ball for him anymore. He can have his wife do it now. 

One afternoon (many years ago), we were babysitting our niece, Courtney, who was 2-3 years old at the time. Mike decided it was a good day to go outside and practice kicking the ball (again, I ask why but still don't have an answer). Little Courtney and I followed him out there to watch. Courtney must have been standing in the wrong spot in the yard (or I was expecting the ball to fly through the air, silly me) because the ball that Mike kicked hit our little niece in the face, *whack* and she fell directly backwards, *thud*. She was OK but it didn't help that our stepsister, Diane called at the same time Courtney was wailing the background. "What's happening to my child?!" "Oh nothing. She's ok."

This little story makes me wonder why there isn't a warning label on footballs -- beware of getting hit the face around people who can't kick or throw. One night, Joe was throwing the soft Cleveland Browns football at Miles (teaching him how to catch it) and *smack* right in the face, the ball hits Miles. It was a soft football and Miles just shook it off even though I know it stung a bit (he had the look on his face - a mom knows). He's not very good at catching yet but future linebackers don't have to know how to catch. He just needs to be able to tackle and block, things he's good at. 

I'm keeping Miles away from my brother, however, especially when he's in the yard practicing how to kick for the fantasy football league. Go, Mike, Go! You'll get there some day. 

Channeling Emily Dickinson

When I was in 4th grade, I wrote a book. It wasn't a best seller, unfortunately since only one copy was printed (in house by me). It was called The Talking Flower and covered issues of friendship and death. (Picture a daisy that befriends a bumble bee and then the bumble bee dies and the flower is sad but then makes friends with another flower. I know...shocking it didn't get more press other than making it's way around my family for giggles. BTW - Caitlynn loves my book and refuses to get rid of it. She's such a good daughter.)

Ever since Caitlynn read my book (if you can call it that), she's been writing things of her own. Over the weekend she wrote a poem. She's been concerned (obsessed?) lately with becoming famous and appearing on Oprah. She figured that writing a poem would get her a spot on Oprah's couch so she can jump on it because that's what crazy kids do (and Tom Cruise). 

In the off chance (way -- way -- way off chance) that Oprah's people read this little blog, here is Caitlynn's poem. I think she'll be the next poet laureate.

Ahem. 

Winter Break

by Caty!

I wonder when winter break is over

Is it going to be on Monday? 

It is on Monday!

It was fun!

And good.

I was fine. I was okay. 

And fine.

We told jokes.

We played.

And got to open presents.

It was fun.

That's it.

Future poet? Totally think so. 

Waiting for Oprah's call. 

Any minute now....

Does the phone still work?

Ok. Still works. 

Waiting...

 

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Exactly...

7 days since Joe left for Montana. 

I have not had a break from either child in one week and I don't expect to get one until the afternoon of the 23rd when I have to go downtown for a meeting. 

If I sound a little jumpy or crabby, I apologize in advance. 

They are driving me a little batty.

help. me. 

By golly, I think he's got it!

What a long road we've traveled. Nope. I haven't moved yet. I'm talking about Miles' potty training. It's nearly over. Nearly. In the past couple of months, Miles has made huge strides in this department. Huge. Big. Gigantic. Gone are the days of him wearing a training diaper during the day. He still wears one at night because I don't think he's at that point yet. 

Yes, we still deal with some accidents here and there. Most of the time, he waits too long and then he's rushing to the bathroom to relieve himself. One day I heard him say, "Stupid pee." This was in regards to him nearly wetting his pants on the way to the toilet. Stupid pee, indeed. 

Successfully potty training a child is a monumental event for any parent and I feel like I should be throwing a parade on Michigan Avenue in Chicago complete with marching bands, baton twirlers, Shriners and their little motorcycles, a big Spiderman balloon, and a fire engine throwing candy into the crowd. 

If you are new to the stories of my potty training issues with Miles, here's a look back. It's been quite a journey and I'm glad it's almost over.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

That's gotta hurt

Gotta Go Right Now

What were you thinking?

Chocolate Ice Cream

I don't remember having this much fun potty training Caitlynn. Of course, I wasn't writing the blog at that time and I've pushed all those memories to the back of my mind where they are locked away forever. Whatever. I still have nightmares about it. 

Did you brush today?

Miles got lots of toys for Christmas, but his favorite gift has to be the battery-operated Spongebob Toothbrush and bubble gum flavored toothpaste that he got from my dad and stepmom. 

He's always been fascinated with oral hygiene and has always wanted to brush his teeth. Now, he has his own cool toothbrush and yummy flavored toothpaste. I'd venture to guess that Miles has the cleanest teeth east of the Mississippi. (Who has the cleanest teeth west of the Mississippi? John Elway?)

The day after Christmas, Miles brushed his teeth no less than 10 times. We were staying at my brother's house and I kept telling Miles to stop brushing his teeth. My brother wondered how many times you hear Moms complain about this -- "Quit brushing your teeth." or "Stop with the oral hygiene." or "Your teeth are clean enough." I'm probably the only mom that's concerned that teeth can be too clean. 

Since returning home, Miles only brushes twice a day. After each time he does his little routine, he looks for me and flashes me a big grin, showing off his pearly whites. After that, it's off to the store to buy gummy worms. 

His dentist will be so proud.