I've got 99 problems and my kids are 3 of them

Sometimes all my kids are going along swimmingly, being insane but normally so, nothing special to report. Same ole, same ole. Another day another diaper.

But these days, I have issues with each one of them. Issues I honestly am not sure how to handle.

Let's start with the oldest, shall we?

Cary: He wore his glasses for two days without problems. Then, all of a sudden, when people are around, he refuses to wear them. At my mother's house, he donned a Batman mask to avoid having to put on his specs. At church, he wouldn't go into his classroom with them on - just flat out refused. And today, when I made him put them on, he took them off and flung them to the floor.
I know part of the problem is that we made a huge tactical error by making a big deal out of the glasses and how cool they were in the beginning. My Dad came by and oohed and aahed; we even asked the hostess at Gertrude's to tell him how handsome he was in his new glasses, which she was happy to do (because he DOES look cute in them!) Turns out, Cary doesn't love all the attention his glasses bring. He told me, "I don't want people to say things about them!" But why he doesn't want to wear them even at home all of sudden, I have no idea. And I don't know what to do to convince him that he has to wear them. I don't want to turn the idea of his glasses into a sore spot, but I keep finding myself threatening him with timeout if he doesn't put them on. The doctor was adamant that he has to wear them full-time or else his vision could get worse. So what else can I do?
Color me stumped.

See? Here he is lying in the bed "reading" a book WITHOUT his glasses.

Dean: Did I post here before about the time Dean stashed a lollipop under his pillow, to eat, I suppose, after the rest of us had gone to bed? I can't remember if I told you all that story. But nevermind that because guess who did it again? This time with a STOLEN piece of candy from Target? Yes, you guessed it. My middle child. While I was in North Carolina for my friend Laurie's 50th birthday, Lester had to take all three kids to Target. At the checkout counter, apparently, Dean spied a piece of candy he wanted, tucked it into his pocket, carried it all the way home, put the candy under his pillow, got undressed, put his pajamas on, and said not. a. word. the whole time about his contraband. Lester only discovered it because the child who has the sophistication to swipe candy, stash it away, DELAY GRATIFICATION (helloooo!) and keep a poker face the entire time is still only 4 and too young to realize that he had to pick up his pillow (hey dumb-dumb, move your hiding place next time, eh?) to get in the bed after our nighttime prayers. Of course, after Lester found the candy, there was a long conversation about stealing and what that means and about honesty, etc. Lester told me later he was "crestfallen" about it. And I am too. I know that Dean doesn't really understand what "stealing" is, but the fact that he is capable of that kind of planned-out deceit is ...unnerving. Not totally surprising -- he's always been the child who looks for things to get into to. But still, it's alarming. Even if he is only 4.
Color me flummoxed.

No cavities at this last check-up, but I don't know what will happen if he keeps stashing candy under his pillow at night. Also, how can I get him to use his powers for good?!?!

Clair:  The first day of summer camp went OK. The next day, not as well, but still OK. By Day 3, she was in tears from the time we started getting her dressed until after Lester dropped the kids off at school. She cries great big, sad tears, and pleads with us with her eyes not to send her to school. "I don't want to go to camp!" she wails. "I want to stay here with Mommy and MiMi!" It breaks my heart. And now, I guess because she's so freaked out by being left at summer camp, she also has reverted back to acting the fool at children's church. Yesterday, for the first time in forever, they flashed us on the screen during service to come get her from her class. Some of it has to do with the fact that yesterday was the day they moved all the pre-school kids up a level, so the boys went from the 3s to the 4s and Clair went from the 18-24mos. class to the 2-year-olds class. So the change wigged her out, I know. But she was crying at home before we even left for church, once she ascertained where we were going. She refused to put her shoes on, thinking that would prevent us from taking her. And at one point, she even started climbing, barefoot and resolute, up the stairs, saying, "I want to stay here - by myself." It rips my heart out the way she cries, and it also affects my mood for a good part of the day. She's just so highly-anxious! I also really worry now about what will happen when we (hopefully/prayerfully) find a new person to take care of the kids afterschool. She LOVES Michelle and will likely flip the funk out when her time with us is up.
Church, camp, school in the fall, a new caregiver -- I just think this whole transition is going to suck suck suck. 
Color me defeated.

How can you be so cute and independent and fearless sometimes and so fearful and anxious and maddening other times? Quit breaking Momma's heart, girl!

Post Father's Day weekend musings

The kids have started this thing where if they see a camera (or an iPhone, as it were) they have to make silly faces. See?

We're visiting with Lester's Uncle Derrick at the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel, near the D.C. zoo. This is right after we got in trouble (me included) for playing on the escalators.

Sometimes with Clair, though, we can still get a pretty decent pic - if she's in a good mood.

Movie star!

These eyes slay me, seriously.

This picture cracks me up -- of them at Naomi's 4th birthday party (Happy Birthday, Naomi!) --  because it says so much about who they are right now. Dean is like, "Juice boxes and junk food and things I don't get to eat a lot. YAAASSSS!" Cary is all, "What's Dean doing? Dean! Dean! Dean!" and Clair is totally ignoring the instructions that everyone is supposed to wait to eat their pizza until we all cheer for Naomi. Yup. That's them.

I successfully avoided eating the pizza AND the cupcakes at this party. Then later on that night, I succumbed to one of each. Sigh.

We spent Father's Day at my parents' house, where we mostly just hung out and spent time with Dad (and we saw Pop-Pop for a second, too, so yay!) and ate a lot of food and sweets. My sister Tahira and her husband bought a table full of crabs, so we picked a few of those -- and it felt like summertime, finally.

While I was there, I thought a lot about how lucky I am to have an amazing father and a husband who is an amazing father to my children. I know that everyone isn't so fortunate. I thank God for all my blessings -- and I pray my children and children's children will always know the unmatched love of a father.

Dad and me, circa 1980.

You gave me wings and made me fly.
You touched my hand I could touch the sky.
I lost my faith, you gave it back to me.
You said no star was out of reach.
You stood by me and I stood tall;
I had your love I had it all.
I'm grateful for each day you gave me.
Maybe I don't know that much,
But I know this much is true:
I was blessed because I was loved by you...

Kids make their own fun

You know how today, as an adult, we're often planning "fun" things to do. Like:

• Go on a planned-down-to-the-last-second vacation (that you need a vacation to recover from);
• Spend 2.5 months to find a date that works to get together with friends over lots of yummy drinks and desserts, or;
• Pay a bunch of money to buy tickets, get a babysitter, park in a city garage and walk a mile, just to go to a too-loud concert?     

Remember when you were a kid and blowing bubbles in your milk with a straw was fun? Or digging for worms after a hard rain? Remember how great it was when we made our own fun?
 
Like, sliding down a hill, getting all scratchy from the grass?

Or pretending spaghetti was a plate full of "wormies" to eat?

I love how kids make their own fun, and find joy in the most mundane things.

And I love how having kids lets me live those silly moments right along with them.

Learning is fun. But fun is fun, too.

In my family, I'm often chided for being a little too focused on making sure the kids are intellectually stimulated and that the things they're exposed to or involved in have a learning component, even if the "learning" is about kindness, or manners, or the proper appreciation of New Edition songs.

I admit that I do try to take advantage of the relatively few moments I have with my sweeties, because I know their little brains are ripe right now for knowledge.

But we do allow our kids to just be kids -- and even *I* know that not everything in their young lives has to be educational. Sometimes, kids just wanna have fun.

 

Kids are loud

Newsflash to people who don't have children yet.

Kids are LOUD.  They do everything loud. They stomp up stairs. They know of only one way to shut a door and that is to slam it. They don't "give" anything to anyone - they toss or outright throw -- making an "UNH!" sound while doing so. They loudly slurp their food and beverages, they bang their utensils, they scoot their chairs back with grating, scraping noises.

And contrary to popular belief, there is NO SUCH THING as an inside voice. None!

Their lives are a fight-scene in a comic book personified: Bam! Boom! POW!

Yes, all children are loud, but my three children are the loudest of all children alive.

They scream everything. They are constantly shouting over each other. They sing all songs like boorish, drunken pirates, or Vikings, or some such.

I have a headache every day. A happy headache -- because they are usually quite gleeful when they're loud -- but still. I need to buy stock in Tylenol.

The other day, my ears ringing from the cacophony in our house, I asked Cary to please sing a quieter song.

"But, but, but..." he said (loudly), "I only have LOUD songs."

Somehow, I know this is absolutely the truth.

PicFrame fun

A while back LauraC. introduced me to PicFrame.

Now why'd she go and do a thing like that? I must admit to being a little obsessed with it. I'm pretty sure my parents and sisters have had quite enough of me putting pictures of Clair and/or the boys in various settings into little side-by-side blocks and emailing or texting them, with little captions like, "Look how cute!"

But I can't stop. It's like I have a disease.

One night over the long weekend I spent an hour or more, doing this:

The many expressions of Clair.

The many expressions of Dean.

The same-ish expressions of Cary.

Twin love.

Twin love, Part 2.

Now, c'mon. After seeing those photos put together that way, can you begrudge me my obsession?
I mean, seriously, look how cute!!

:-)

Yeah, I need a hobby.

Kids say the darndest things

The boys say and do the funniest things. Here's a sampling:

After dinner, I'm in the dining room and Lester leads the boys through the kitchen, headed for upstairs. I hear quiet, quiet, quiet ... and then:
 "Mommy! Mommy!" They run over to the dining room and look at me urgently.
"Yes," I say.
"Daddy give us chips!"
 I make an exaggerated gasp. "Chips! Daddy gave you chips??"
Then they turn to Lester, who is hiding behind the wall between the dining room and living room.
They both wag their fingers at him and say, sternly, "Daddy!! Not supposed to give us chips! Not to give us chips any-MORE!!"
Then they crunch happily on their chips.
"Thanks boys, " Lester says. "Thanks a lot."

Playing on the floor with Dean and Cary, I say to Dean, "Baby, please don't throw the Legos. Just build with them. OK?"
Dean: "I'm not a baby! I'm a little boy!"

At the dinner table, Cary is whining incessantly. I ask him repeatedly what's wrong, but he just whines and rubs his eyes. I decide to ignore him.
Finally, he says to me, "Mommy, I'm sleepy. I'm sleepy in my eyes."

Outside playing with the next-door-neighbor kids, the older girl is trying to teach Cary and Dean how to throw a Frisbee. Her younger brother keeps stealing the Frisbee and tossing it. Exasperated, she says, "You're getting on my nerves!"
Later, I spy Cary in the neighbor's flower box, tugging on a plant. He pulls a leaf off and I say to him, "NO! We do not pull on plants. Leave it alone Cary."
He looks over at me and says, "Getting on my NERVES!"

Cary asks me to turn the music on.
Sure, I say. What do you want to hear?
He thinks for a second and then says, "John Mayer."

Dean has started asking for food and drink at all times, even when he's just eaten. He will go down the list of things he "wants," I guess hoping we'll give in if he asks for the right thing.
"Mommy, I want some nack (snack)," he says.
"No, you just had dinner. You don't need a snack."
"Mommy, I want some fruit."
"No."
"Mommy, ummm...ummm...I want some agua."
"You just had water, sweetie. You finished it. It's time for your bath. No more to eat or drink tonight."
"Mommy?"
"Yes, Dean."
"Ummm, I want, I want...ummm...I want some wine."

Cary, in the bathtub, spies his private parts.
"Mommy!!" he says, excitedly. "I have pink on my p****."
"Well, yes, I guess that is pink there," I say.
He studies it, carefully. And then says, "MOMMY!"
"Yes, baby."
"Not green on my p****."
"Ummm. No.," I say. "Not green. Be very glad for that."

HA!!!!