Open mouth, insert sock

I have become increasingly nervous about taking my children out, as I never, never know what they're going to say.  I talked about Judah's chattiness recently, but sometimes their unintentional mistakes with the fine English language make me cringe. Judah is going through the phase of announcing with gusto any objects we pass while we're driving along: " A WATER TOWER! MOMMYMOMMYMOMMY! A WATER TOWER! LOOK!"  "CAR CARRIER! A CAR CARRIER CARRYING NEW CARS! LOOK MOMMY! A CAR CARRIER!" "AHHH! A TOWER CRANE AND BASTRUCTION BEHICLES! BASTRUCTION BEHICLES! LOOKLOOKLOOK!"  (Combine this 300 decibel narration with Zion's shrieking, and Mercy's incessant commentary: Iwonderwhat'sinthatfreighttruck,mom.Mommommommy!What's inthatfreighttruck?Mommyanswerme.What'sinthatfreighttruck?" and you won't wonder why my hearing isn't what it used to be, and why a padded room looks attractive more often than I care to admit. Silence, where art thou?)

This fall, Judah, who is interested in all things about farming, found the freshly cut corn stalks and straw bales in the fields fascinating. Whenever we would pass a field with the large round bales dotting the scenery, he would shout "HELLBELLS! HELLBELLS MOMMY! HELLBELLS! LOOK!" Benj and I had to hide our snickering and firmly correct him: "Judah, it's HAY bales. Say HAY BALES."  Judah: "Yes. Hellbells."

We were recently riding along and we were listening to one of the Manheim Steamroller Christmas discs. When a new song came on, Judah shouted "FLUTE!" I said, "No, Buddy, I think that's actually a tin or penny whistle. It's kind of like a flute, but it's higher and more tinny." To which Mercy replied confidently, "It's a titty whistle." Ooohhh-kay. Tin OR penny whistle, not both.

I was fortunate that both of these conversations happened in the car, but I can imagine some of these words emanating from my innocent, sweet-looking children's mouths in the store, or in church. It will happen. I'm bracing myself.

Preview

This is the first time in four pregnancies that I've had a 4-D ultrasound. I don't usually have ultrasounds this late in pregnancy, but my midwife ordered one for our peace of mind after I was hospitalized with a virus and severe dehydration a few weeks ago. Apparently some viruses can cause heart failure in developing babies, so we just wanted a peek to make sure everything is fine. The ultrasound tech was fabulous. She explained everything to the other three children and pointed out little fingers, toes, the spine, brain, and heart (everything but the sex, wink). Then, to my surprise, she did 4-D images. She had a hard time getting a full facial, because the umbilical cord was right in front of the mouth and nose, and after being aggravated by the ultrasound for 40 minutes and performing impressive gymnastics, the baby was ready for a nap and we couldn't get him/her to move around enough to get the cord out of the way. So we only got partial views, but I'm delighted. It was almost like seeing a photo of the baby instead of a grainy ultrasound. He/she was around 3 pounds (measuring a week big, as usual!), so it has about 7 pounds to gain to be a proper Sommers baby. Anyway, here is a preview of our newest family member:

Judah wants a new mommy

I'm very grateful that Judah has learned that screaming "Owwww! Stop pinching me!" and "OOOOOOHHH! You're hurting me!" and "NOOOOOOO! DON'T SPANK ME!" in Target, the doctor's office and other public places for no apparent reason other than to get an unsuspecting stranger to call Child Protective Services was not having the desired effect. He's decided, in the typical manipulative fashion of a three year old, that being charming is much more successful. With his big blonde head, wide blue eyes, and irrisistable grin, I can see, I guess, why everyone from old ladies (and men!) to teenage girls swoon over him when he turns it on full force. His new MO is to call out "Hi! It's good to see you!" or "Have a good day!" or "Fine, thank you!" when someone even looks at him or asks him how he is. He even goes so far as to turn his winsome face up to cashiers and ask "Did you miss me?" And while I certainly prefer this to the temper-tantrum throwing, screaching, backtalking toddler that I know, sometimes his friendliness is just too much.

Yesterday, we had errands that had to be done--and had to be done yesterday. No waiting till I could leave the monkeys with Benj. Fun stuff like the courthouse to renew car registration, the lab for bloodwork (for me, fortunately), and the post office to mail a package. These chores are enough to bore me to tears, so I do try to have some compassion for three little ones, as I can imagine how interminably unfun it all is, especially in Christmas traffic and long lines. Besides charming the postal worker and making everyone in line with us grin, Judah was full of friendly quips and conversation yesterday. Except that so much of what he says could be used to make a case that I'm an unfit mother.

Judah, to random lady waiting in the lab: "My underwear are on backwards."
Mommy: "Judah..."
Judah: "My bum is ALWAYS bare."
I'm sure that lady was so glad she said "hi" to Judah.

Judah, to random tax office lady in the courthouse: "I live in a cave."

Judah, to random lady in line at Target: "My belly hurts from eating cat food."
(Have I ever mentioned that we don't have cats...that I don't LIKE cats? For some reason, Judah has recently been pretending he is Huckle from Richard Scarry's stories. We have to call him Huckle, and his meals are "cat food" and he sleeps in his "cat bed." This is where that comment came from, but what would you think if a toddler in the store told you that he had a bellyache from eating cat food?)

I suspect that Judah, er, Huckle, is tired of having me for a mother and is trying to figure out the quickest way to get put in foster care.

To Brighten Your (and my) Day

Mercy, coming down the steps of her bunk bed after a particularly punishing night with Zion after moving all three children into the same room: "Oh what a dreadful night I had! Zion screamed his fool head off all night long."

Judah, calling from the playroom: "Mommy! Come! Mercy is acting like a maniac!"

Judah, tearfully, after falling over one of the wheeled toys when using it improperly: "Not very clever!"

Judah, after being told to clean up his mess: "My belly hurts from picking up."

Mercy, having a one-sided conversation on her cell phone while she watched me put concealer on my face in the car before going into Target: "We're just at Target.  Hmm. No, we haven't gone inside yet. We're just waiting on Mom. She's decorating her face."

Mercy, after Grandma told her on the phone that she was at the drugstore: "Mom, Grandma says she's at a junk food store."

Mercy, when eating a dessert: "Mommy, is this expensive?"
Mommy: "Expensive? What does that mean? (I was surprised as we don't really discuss money or expense with them.)
Mercy: "It means if you eat too much your belly hurts."
Mommy: "Oh, do you mean rich? Yes, the dessert is rich."
Mercy: "Oh yes, rich."

Judah, very loudly in a food aisle in Target: "MOMMY, IS THIS A JUNK FOOD STORE?
Mercy: "Yes. It's junk food. Mommy, why do people eat junk food? They must not have Jesus in their hearts to eat all that junk food."
(That just wiped out an entire denomination. You know who you are.)
Mommy assured them that having Jesus in your heart has nothing to do with eating junk food.

Mercy, sighing dramatically when picking up the messy play room: "I wish Adam and Eve hadn't sinned in the Garden. Then we wouldn't make such big messes."

Thankful for my funny monkeys, who for all the times they make me want to cry, make me laugh. Happy Thanksgiving!

Birthday photos

For all the other things I've let slide, I've been very disciplined about getting the children's pictures taken for their birthdays. I was a little late getting the photo shoot scheduled, but the real reason I'm so late getting these posted is that Benj and I had a terrible time picking the ones we wanted. The photographer, Deanna Martin, of Country Lane Photography, gave me permission to post the pictures, but we were so indecisive, we JUST decided to buy the whole disc so we could have ALL the pictures, and it arrived the other day. Anyway, here are Mercy's 4th, Judah's 3rd (a little early...he was actually still a month away from 3 when these were taken), and Zion's 1st birthday photos.

Outline of an outing

We rarely go anywhere. Church, most Sundays. The grocery store twice a month. And that's pretty much it. I want to be a fun mom, really. But let me give you an outline of what an outing with my three looks like, and I think I'll be justified.

First of all, the way they act in the house doesn't leave me much patience/energy/desire to take the show on the road. All three of them eat like farmhands, and since we are not only organic, but gluten free, this means I have to pack enough food for an entire threshing crew when we go out. I mean, if we even make an hour round trip to Target, they're all begging and whining for food, even though they just ate enough for breakfast right before we left the house to keep most adults full till suppertime. Invariably, if I take the 45 minutes to pack a main course, drink, snacks, and fruit, they turn their noses up at it, but if I take sippies and nothing else for a quick trip, they're all on the verge of a hypoglycemic crisis.

Zion spends his days wandering aimlessly through the house, whining, fussing, and outright screaming. When he is quiet, it's because he is doing something he shouldn't. I'll find him in the nursery, with the door closed, so he can mess with the humidifier and cd player undetected. Or he's unloading my cupboards, strewing art supplies all over the house, eating crayons and biting the tips off markers, or trying to destroy the pantry, preferably by crushing tortilla chips or unshelving my glass French press and tea pot. Closing doors or putting things out of reach doesn't help because at 18 months, he had figured out how to unlock and open doors, and if he can't reach something, he goes and gets a stepstool and climbs.

Mercy and Judah don't really play. They just dump out bins of toys, and make the biggest mess possible. They have always gotten along really well...until recently....when they've both become obsessively territorial over their "stuff." The problem is that instead of working it out or coming to me like the civilised human beings we're trying to mold their barbaric little selves into, Mercy shrieks like she's being abducted, and Judah grunts like a Neanderthal. I have next to zero tolerance for chaos, and the scrapping and screaming and grunting makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I end up shouting at them to even be heard above the roar. It's so wearying.

And that's why I don't like to take them out of the house. Because these behaviors just continue out of the house, except that we have an audience: glaring, making inane and unhelpful comments like "Boy, you have your hands full!" (Duh, people. And just for your edification, do you know what that sounds like to a harried mom with three toddlers? "Boy, you sure don't know what you're doing!"). And then there's my personal favorite: "Are ALL THOSE YOURS?" Really? I'm not Michelle Duggar, bless her serene heart. It's three kids, not 20. Three in three years, yes, but just three. And like Olivia the pig, yes, they SOUND like 20 children, but still, it's just three. Anyway, who in her right mind would willingly take three toddlers to Target unless they are all hers?

So yesterday, I had about eleventy-seven errands to run, and I knew it would be a long day. The list included stops that require nightmarish logistic strategies like the post office and compounding pharmacy. See, both of these errands take about three minutes by themselves, but unloading three little ones still in five-point harness carseats, two of whom can't buckle or unbuckle themselves, makes the errand stretch to more like 30 minutes. Then, there's the internal debate: stroller or no stroller? I have a triple stroller that I love, but at 25 weeks pregnant, hefting it in and out of the truck is not a feat I enjoy. I don't mind it if I have to go to the mall or have multiple stops in walking distance downtown, but for a three-minute errand? Uggh. So if I opt for no stroller, I have to figure out how to get into the post office with death-grips on the two children who still dart into traffic if not muscled into submission, while not losing my wallet or the five packages I have to mail. Then there's the wait. Keeping three curious little ones from becoming restless if the line is long is not fun without the stroller. Amongst the errands, I had grimly resolved to take them all to the library. With my recent fall, illness and hospitalization (another post), and recovery, we had been out even less than usual, and they all enjoy the library. We are blessed to have a huge, beautiful library in a historic building. The children's department is on the second floor, away from glaring adults if the voices get a little enthusiastic. However, the library is also one of those logistical nightmares, for a number of reasons. First, it's downtown, and there's  no parking lot. It's all street parking, on narrow (some one-way) streets. Because it's a historic building, it's not extremely accessible--the doors are narrow and elevators small, so navigating with a stroller is nigh unto impossible, and the setup of the children's section is...difficult. The shelves are very low, which is great for young school-age kids, but that makes the books in easy reach for my toddlers to snatch them off the shelves and toss them on the floor. If I let them play and look at the books in the open play area, I can't see them while I'm looking for books to take home because they're all short enough that I can't see them over the shelves. When it comes right down to it, I honestly need a second adult with me for this venture. So we got to the library, and on my second (or was it third?) trip around the block without finding a parking spot, I told the kids it looked like we couldn't do the library, but then I saw a space that I could get into if I drove into the next block and turned around. I finally got parked, and realized that Zion had just fallen asleep. I decided to feed the older two and let him catch a little nap. The entire time they were eating, Judah was pushing and kicking my seat. Maybe I'm just cranky and irritable from not sleeping for four years, but that just about makes me "lose the plot," as my Aussie/New Zealand friends say.  I had told him at least a half dozen times to stop it. Then Mercy refused to take a drink. We really have to force her to drink enough, and when I insisted, she got sassy with me, and it turned into a big ordeal. Over a drink. Life with a drama queen. I was just about to say "forget the library" and get on with my other chores, but I unloaded them all, got them safely across the street and was walking up the steps when I looked down to see that Judah had walked down the sidewalk, across the street, and up the library steps in his socks. Unbeknownst to me, he had taken off his boots (which were double-knotted...I SO did not outsmart him) in the car. That was truly the last straw. I took them all back to the car, reloaded them, and we went on with our errands. There were a number of other incidents along the way, usually punctuated with Zion's shrieks or fusses, but I won't bore you with the embarrassing conversations in Target at twice the necessary decible (please tell me they do eventually grow a filter between their brains and mouths!), which I would like to forget anyway. And I would also like to leave out the things that had nothing to do with the children, but rather my incompetence: I was worried about someone calling CPS because I forgot Mercy's coat in sub-40 degree weather. It is true that she had long underwear on under her dress, but I was the only one who knew that.

I would like to be a cool mom who always has it together, and I have actually had people comment that I always have it together, so apparently I'm a pretty good actress most of the time, but outings like yesterday prove how inept I am at this whole motherhood thing sometimes. And that is one of the many reasons that we stay home.

Happy Fall