Chocolate donut with gummy worms...yum! Shopping with three hungry kids...yikes!

The other day we all went to the grocery store. Typically, this is a rather uneventful procedure. But now that it is summer, I am having to readjust my mindset to include three children rather than just one (whom I can usually strap in the cart). Maybe it's because I am pregnant, and maybe it was just an off day, but suddenly having them all at the store asking for different things and going in different directions was making me crazy. Spencer refused to sit in the cart because he wanted to be a big boy like Carter, but then he just kept running in various directions. Carter and Chelsea kept helping me select multiple unapproved products from random aisles. There were cereal boxes flying in my cart and suddenly appearing Pop Tarts and granola bars and packages of hot dogs. I think a shrimp platter was even requested at one point. "Oh, look mom, shrimp. We love shrimp!" (What? Shrimp? No! Don't put that in the cart!)

I certainly take all three to the store during the school year as well -- just not mid-afternoon when everyone is hungry.

At one point Carter asked, "Can we all get a donut?" I said, "Maybe, if you stay with me for the rest of the trip." It was a deal and they did much better from then on. Spencer chose the donut with chocolate and sprinkles and gummy worms, which he proceeded to eat right off the top. He said, "This is good. I like these worms!" I am glad he enjoyed it, but in the future I hope he can distinguish gummy worms from regular worms...

Ultimately the trip was a success and I only had to do minimal editing at the checkout. Although somehow we ended up with four different packages of gum. Apparently when I choose a flavor that means everyone else gets to as well. Hmm. It may be a long summer of evening shopping -- when Dad can either tend or come with. Although, come to think of it, he tends to accept/encourage the selection of random packages...

"Dad can we get pop tarts?" Sure!
"Granola bars?" Great!
"Sugar cereal?" Throw it in!

I think I may have discovered the source of my problem.

Stories with Mamma, Mampa

Grandma and Grandpa Cook came over tonight to ring in the Memorial Day weekend. We played Skipbo (winners: Chelsea, game 1; Grandma, game 2), had some lasagna and read stories together. It was fun for me to sit and watch Grandpa read with Spencer. Spencer has a very specific way you must read each story and if you get it wrong he will say, "No, shhhh. Let me show you." Then he will point out the pictures and "read" some memorized words. Grandpa was "shhhed" several times. He did great though, and it was a blog-worthy moment.

Chelsea is reading Frog and Toad presently. Her favorite stories are Cookies and The Swim. (Frog really does look funny in his bathing suit.) What a good little reader!

Carter was not thrilled to have his picture taken. Apparently, it is no longer "cool"

to appear on Mom's blogs, so he asked, "Are you going to blog this?" I said, "Maybe."
He said, "Well, I don't want my pictures on the blog." I said, "Tough. Now smile."
We told him a joke to get him to smile but then he resisted with the old hide-behind-the-pirate-book routine. Sorry, Carter, but you just don't get out of being pictured when you are so handsome!

Carter trivia:
Did you know Carter has the same birthday as Orlando Bloom?
That's right: January 13 (1998 & 1977 respectively).
He also shares a birthday with Patrick Dempsey
(a.k.a. Dr. McDreamy)
I guess it's just a good-looking date!

1st Grade Closing Ceremony

On Tuesday, May 22, 2007, Chelsea's first grade class presented their year-end program for parents. Each student recited a memorized poem and the whole class sang several songs (about contractions and plurals and other exciting grammar rules). The program was in the cafeteria and afterward we went back to class to see their various art projects and school work. It was a bitter-sweet day, as is usually the case. Chelsea's teacher this year: Mrs. Porter, is wonderful and Chelsea will miss being in her class. But she is excited for summer!

Class Photo note: Chelsea is on the back row in the middle.
Why exactly she is on the back row perplexes me.
And, can you tell that Arik, the boy standing next to her,
has had a crush on her all year? Way to be subtle, Arik.

Progressive Parenting

I have to thank my sister for these. She sent me this great email the other day and I found it all too true. Although, what does it mean for my fourth?

Pregnancy:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your pregnancy is confirmed.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes as long as possible.
3rd baby: Your maternity clothes are your regular clothes.

Preparing for Labor:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.

The Layette:
1st baby: You pre-wash and color coordinate all the baby's clothes.
2nd baby: You check to make sure clothes are clean and not too stained.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?

Diapering:
1st baby: You change their diaper every hour -- whether it is needed or not.
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell, or you see it sagging to their knees.

Activities:
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics, Baby Swim, and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.

At Home:
1st baby: You spend a good deal of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday protecting the baby from your three year old.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.

Swallowing Coins (a favorite):
1st child: You rush to the ER and demand X-rays.
2nd child: You carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: You deduct the coin from his allowance.

Bouncy balls: $1. Matchbox cars: $2. Jordan Almonds: priceless.

I remembered today at 3:25pm that Spencer had been invited to his friend Noah’s birthday party at 4pm. Since we had no present, and since the closest store to me is an Albertsons, that’s where we headed. I usually try not to shop for birthday presents at the grocery store, because grocery store presents always have a very “I-picked-this-up-on-the-way-over” quality to them. (Rightfully so, apparently.) But, because Noah was turning four, I figured anything that bounced, rolled, growled or oozed would be an appropriate choice. The Albertson’s toy aisle carries many such items. Spencer quickly found a small bag of balls that was $1, so I looked for something additional. We settled on a box of 8 matchbox cars that was $2. I said, “Why don’t we get him a candy too?” (Candy aisle = toy aisle; grocery marketers = not dumb.) I looked for a bag of M&M’s, but Spencer saw the bulk candy bins and decided they looked better. He came up to me with a small fist of candy and said, “Here’s some!”

I said, “No, not that kind. Let’s get him something that’s already in a bag, like M&M’s!”
He looked at the candy in his hand and then at the big bag of M&M’s. “Ok,” he said and headed over to put his candy back in the bin.
“No, wait! That candy has been in your hand. Don’t put it back in there.” I said. Then I looked closer at the contents of his hand. “Are those Jordan Almonds?” I asked.
He just looked at me, then slowly said, “No, they’re candy.”
I sighed, “Here, you hold the cars. Give me the candy, I will take care of it.” He handed me the almonds. I looked over at the bin. I looked down the aisle. I looked up the aisle. I looked at the five colorful nuggets of goodness in my hand. Then I ate them all.

Well, I couldn’t put them back, could I?

And what’s the difference between eating them and throwing them away?

And, anyway, I’m nine-months pregnant, so go ahead and razz me about five Jordan Almonds.

We finished our toy tour, and ultimately, our gift did indeed have a very grocery store quality to it. But I’m sure Noah didn’t care. And I know Spencer didn’t care. And, after a few Jordan Almonds, I didn’t care about anything. I even smiled at the lady at the flower counter on the way out. (Although she looked at me suspiciously…)

Happy Birthday to Me!

Spencer turned three today.
He got a new train set and a Cars dish set.
We had a swim party at Grandma's pool with cake and pizza!
After swimming we all went to see Shrek 3.
Spencer said, "I like this birthday."
We said, "We like Spencer."

I make cake!

It's Spencer's birthday tomorrow and in preparation for such, we spent the afternoon making his cake. I saw a picture in Family Fun magazine of a cute and simple cake that I thought he would like. So, we got some jelly beans, mini marshmallows, and a funfetti cake and went to work. We mixed up the cake (Spencer was thrilled with the funfetti candies in the batter), and separated the jelly beans into colors. We then made blue frosting and frosted the cake top a "sky blue." We placed jelly beans in a rainbow pattern and finished by mounding some marshmallows at both ends of the rainbow. It was easy and fun and the perfect birthday-eve activity for Spencer.

Dad's BBQ

Tyler had a short day at work yesterday -- a relatively unusual event. But I had a rather long day -- an unfortunately very usual event. By mid-afternoon my reserves had run out and I was moody. And not just a little bit moody -- no, the kind where it's just better that I don't speak to anyone. So, about 4pm, after several failed attempts at patience and civility, I finally said, "I think I'm going to go lie down for a little bit." Tyler responded, "That sounds great!"

Well, it was great. While I napped, Tyler played baseball with the kids (and half the neighborhood) in the front yard. Then, they decided to have a BBQ, so he took them to the store for all the necessary ingredients (hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, and Henry Weinhards root beer -- a BBQ must!) They came home, cleaned up the kitchen, mixed and shaped patties and turned on the grill. I awoke to the delicious smell of backyard BBQ and decided I was ready to rejoin the living -- in a much better mood.

All I can say is nothing fixes a sour day quite like a nap, some baseball, a BBQ, and especially, a kind and thoughtful husband.

I like clothes

Spencer loves clothes. While I was dividing and folding laundry today, he decided to try on several outfits -- all at the same time. Each time I would throw an item into his pile he would respond with delight, "Oh, my alligator shirt!" or "My new shorts!" He would then put them on. At the end of our laundry session, he was wearing two shirts, a pair of shorts over a pair of pants, a baby hat (that is now all stretched out), baby socks on his hands, and of course, his Spiderman slippers. What an ensemble.

Pregnancy Jokes

At this stage of discomfort, it's either laugh or cry. So here are some jokes I read today:

A woman went to the doctor's office. She was seen by one of the new doctors, but after about four minutes in the examination room, she burst out, screaming as she ran down the hall. An older doctor stopped and asked her what the problem was, and she explained. He had her sit down and relax in another room.

The older doctor marched back to the first and demanded, "What's the matter with you? Mrs. Terry is 63 years old, she has four grown children and seven grandchildren, and you told her she was PREGNANT?"

The new doctor smiled smugly as he continued to write on his clipboard.

"Cured her hiccups though, didn't it?"

Hmmm, I wonder if hiccups can cure pregnancy...

Q: What is the most common pregnancy craving?
A: For men to be the ones who get pregnant.

Q: The more pregnant I get, the more often strangers smile at me. Why?
A: Because you are fatter than they are.

Q: What's the difference between a nine-month pregnant woman and a model?
A: Nothing, if the pregnant woman's husband knows what's good for him.

Q: Ever since my wife got pregnant, she's been rather moody.
A: So, what's your question!?

I have owie

Over the weekend, at the father/son campout, Spencer fell and bumped his lip. He has a very small, almost unnoticeable scratch above his upper lip. Up until today he has not noticed it or cared. But this afternoon while he was standing outside with a group of Carter's friends, one of the boys turned to him and said, "What did you do to your lip?"
Spencer touched his face, thought for a minute and said, "I fell. It's owie." Then he came running inside, almost in tears and said, "I need bandaid!"
I said, "No, you're fine. You don't need a bandaid. It won't stick on your lip anyway."
But undeterred, he went and got the entire box. "I need bandaid," he said. "I have owie." He handed me several, large bandaids.
"Spencer, it's not going to stay on your lip." I insisted.
"Yes it will!" He cried, approaching tears again.
So, I stuck a bandaid on. It was bigger than his entire upper lip and looked like a bandaid mustache. As I predicted, he kept it on for about five minutes and then said, "It bugging me." I think pulling the bandaid off was more painful than the original bump.

It made me think though, how influenced we are by the opinions and observations of others. It only takes one person to notify us of our blemishes and suddenly we think they are enormous -- like a big, obvious, bandaid mustache.

Hot Day, Cool Watermelon

Is there anything better than cool watermelon
on a hot day with a friend?

Sweet Bribery

So, what’s the difference between a positive reward and a bribe? As a parent I am trying to determine the distinction because apparently one will reinforce my children and the other will ruin them.

I noticed this morning after the kids left for school that the basement (their domain) needed a bit of TLC. Actually, it needed a lot of TLC. Because the nature of gravity vs. pregnancy is such that I no longer bend over to pick things up, I just left everything on the floor where it was and waited until the kids got home from school. When they arrived I greeted them warmly, told them I loved them and that they were free to play when the basement was clean. You wouldn’t believe the indignation that inspired.

“What? It’s not my stuff! It’s Chelsea’s stuff!”
“NO IT’S NOT!”
“Yes, you and your friends got out all the dolls.”
“Well Spencer got out all the Little People. I’m not cleaning any of those up.”
“Spencer never helps.”
“Neither do you.”
“Yes I do! My room is cleaner than yours!”
“That’s because all your stuff is out here!”
“That’s enough. All of you go and don’t come up until it’s clean.” I said. They stomped away. I lumbered upstairs. A few minutes later I received notice that half of the family wasn’t helping. A few minutes after that the other half reported that the first half was being rude. Then Spencer appeared holding his Nanie and looking for crackers. I knew there had not been sufficient time for any substantial progress to have been made, so I took him back downstairs where I found Carter and Chelsea sitting defiantly at odds in a still-dirty basement. I pondered. Then I bribed.

“Ok, here’s the deal. When the basement is clean, you can each have your own can of rootbeer.”
“What? Our own can?”
“Yes, but it has to be clean and you have to work together and be nice.”
“OK!”

Everyone hopped up and cleaned. In 10 minutes it passed inspection and rootbeers were distributed to all.

Now, although this would seem like a successful resolution, (a win-win perhaps? Or maybe even a win-win-win?) I still don’t know if this constitutes bribery or positive reinforcement. The thing is, most of us work for rewards: paychecks, compliments, good grades, eternal life, etc. What’s the harm in a little can of rootbeer? I’m sure Dr. Spock could tell me, but at this point the basement is clean, my kids are happy, and I was able to avoid any unnecessary interaction with gravity. For me, that’s success.

Imaginary Ipods

This morning as I was doing Chelsea's hair we had an interesting conversation about some of her classmates at school.

"You know Milly at school? She steals golden behavior tickets," she informed me.
"How do you know this?" I asked, thoroughly squirting her hair with water.
"Because I used to have 50 tickets and now I only have 16 and suddenly Milly has lots."
"Oh." Brush, brush, part.
"Yeah, and I know it because she also ate Amelia's sandwich once at lunch."
"What does that have to do with golden tickets?"
"Don't put it in a barrette! I want a ponytail!"
"Ok." I brushed over the part and started again.
"If she stole a sandwich, why wouldn't she steal tickets?" She reasoned.
"Um hmm. Have you talked to Mrs. Porter about the tickets?" I brushed her hair straight back.
"No, but I told Milly that I knew she stole them."
"I see." Bumps! I hate stubborn hair bumps.
"Arik also eats other people's lunch."
"Hmm."
"But luckily he has never eaten mine."
"Oh, that's good." I squirted again and pulled tighter.
"Yeah, and you know what else? Isabel said she won an ipod at the kite festival, but I have looked all over her whole house and I can't find it anywhere." (Isabel lives down the street. Chelsea played there last week.)
"Oh." There: no bumps! "Wait, what did you say?"
"Isabel lied about the ipod."
"No, about going through her whole house?"
"There's no ipod there."
I looked at her in the mirror and desperately tried not to laugh. "You can't go through someone else's house! I don't care what Isabel said!"
"But Mom, she lied, I know it!"
"Your friends are going to say things all the time that may or may not be true. It's not your job to verify everything. They're just trying to impress you."
"Well, I'm not impressed by an imaginary ipod!" she fumed at the mirror. I pulled the elastic tight and looked back at her.
"Ok, look, no matter what your friends say, please don't go rummaging through their homes, ok?"
"But Mom!" She was trying not to cry and I was trying not to laugh.
"No investigating other people's property!" I said firmly.
"Fine!" She snapped as she stomped out of the bathroom.

I'm still trying to figure out if I learned something or if she learned something and what either of those things may be. I'm frequently surprised by the questionable methods of school yard justice. But then again, maybe she's developing skills that will enable her to one day be a famous investigative journalist -- with good hair.

The Nanie: A Surefire Allergy Repellant

Have you seen Mr. Mom, where at one point Michael Keaton decides it is necessary to confiscate the "Woobie?" Well, I fear we are at that point.

Spencer's "Nanie" has become a dearly beloved health hazard. Originally, it was a soft purple blanket dotted with bright purple stars. Now it is of questionable color and odor -- even when washed. And, one edge of the stitching has come undone so that batting sticks out along the whole seam. I have tried to sew it. I have tried to wash it. I have tried to hide it. I have tried to replace it. I have tried everything short of cruel confiscation -- which I just can't bring myself to do.

The biggest problem with the Nanie isn't that Spencer loves it so much. It's that he expects us to love it as well. When we sit and read stories, I get to 'hold' the Nanie. When he goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I have to standby with the Nanie. When he eats his cereal in the morning, the Nanie must be hung on the back of his chair. Where I find the Nanie, I know Spencer has been -- it is frequently in the pantry, outside on the porch, bunched into the back of his tricycle, in the van, and all too often, buried deep in my bed -- ew.

Both of my other kids had blankies and each eventually gave them up. But this one has become so 'loved' that I am concerned for the health of those (me) who frequently come in contact with it. The only thing that brings me solace is an article I read recently about how everyday germs can protect kids from allergies. Too clean an environment can actually promote allergy sensitivity. I suppose that for now I'll just have to see the Nanie not as a bacterial haven, but as an allergy repellant.

Hmm, I wonder if that's a marketable idea...

Carter's Piano Recital

Carter's Piano Recital was on Saturday, May 5, 2007.
He played the theme from Star Wars,
and a piece from Haydn's Symphony.
Aside from a complete lack of facial expression, he did very well.

This is a picture of all the recital participants. His teacher is in red on the far left side. Carter is the one on the far right side with the enthusiastic grin. I asked him afterwards how he felt about the experience. He said, "I was hot, and I hate my suit, and I had to listen to everyone else play for what seemed like forever, so I just kept thinking about how Dad had promised that afterward he'd take me to get a big, cold, shake." Isn't it wonderful how ice cream can make almost anything tolerable?

Diary of a Worm

Chelsea read a story to her class today.

Each child was assigned a day to read one of their favorite stories.
She read "Diary of a Worm" by Doreen Cronin.
She also took a treat to share: gummy worms in a bag of dirt (smashed Oreos). It was a real hit.