Don't let this happen to you!

Yes, the baby fell asleep on the coffee table.  Wood.  No pillow.  Dried nacho cheese around her mouth still.  When you're two, taking  a nice nap in your comfy bed with lots of pillows and dark quietness is not as appealing as when you're, say, 33.  Especially when Uncle Todd is on his way over bringing Taco Bell.  A better mother might have tried to move the sleeping baby on to the comfy couch or even up to her bed.  I ran and got the camera, and am blogging it up as she sleeps.  Besides, small and cute as she appears, that is not a hornets' nest I want to poke.

Boys go to jupiter, to get more stupider.

So says my darling four year old daughter during  lunch today.  Boy, the nuggets I pick up when I'm half-listening to my children's chattering.  At least now I know where they go to get so stupid.

And happy birthday to Paul.  Ten years, sheesh, where does the time go.

Learning All The Time

Our poor little Renee is still not feeling good, and combined with the cold rain outside, it was a good day to stay at home and actually do some home schooling.  The ornery little wretch pictured below has been poring over his math all day, in between harassing the dog, harassing his sisters, and giving his mother attitude.  Note the 'State Capitols 500 Piece Jigsaw Puzzle' spread out underneath the paper he is working on- that's multi-tasking at its finest.  Joe typically takes a long time to do just about everything.  Just getting his name on his paper can take up to an hour; there are just so many interesting distractions, it seems.  This table is the third spot in the house he has been sent to work today in an effort to maximize his productivity.  

Elena has been learning how to read, as well as learning things like her full name, address, birthday, days of the week, etc.  These are all things we have practiced before, but I almost laughed out loud during today's lesson.  When I asked if she knew her address where she lived, she very earnestly replied "Right here."  We practiced a few more questions that she answered correctly; when I asked her when her birthday was, she said, "Next summer."  While technically correct, that was not the answer I was going for.  Guess you had to be here, it was much funnier in person!  And as you can see, her do-it-yourself home haircut is finally starting to grow back.

Awwww...

Doesn't this picture just warm your little heart?  A little boy in rubber boots, floating his little toy boat in  a puddle.  If this scene doesn't deserve to be immortalized, my friends, than what does?  Joe is far and away the squirrelliest kid I've ever known, but sometimes he's just so cute.  To testify to his squirrelly-ness- about a half hour before I snapped this shot, Matt had to yell at him to put on his rubber boots, because he was standing ankle-deep in ice water in his only (formerly)  good shoes.  I went out last spring and bought all of my children knee-high rubber boots, specifically for romping around in mud and puddles.  I've been in this business long enough to know there is no way on earth to keep a kid out of a good puddle; my best bet was going to be in damage prevention.  If anyone knows a good training method to get kids to put their boots on their feet before going puddle stomping, drop me a line.
The Dog Who'll Eat Anything has been on the prowl again.  She has become so bold as to hop right up on to the table now to see what's for supper.  We have to keep her in her cage during mealtimes, as she's cultivated the habit of stealing food right off the kids' plates.  The kids, for their part, encourage this behavior by feeding her under the table.  Fly was begging at my feet while I prepared dinner last night.  I was making salad, so I tossed her a piece of lettuce, figuring she wouldn't be terribly interested, but she wolfed it down and looked up at me for another piece.  Someone told once me that dogs don't like bananas, a theory which our dog has disproved several times.  Maybe most other dogs don't live in a house with such a large number of unattended bananas lying around.  Last week Fly also ate a can of neon orange Play-Doh.  It was very easy to see those piles in the front yard.  Speaking of which, Paul just finished his chore of scooping up all the dog piles in the yard.  He was very pleased to show me a penny he found in one of the piles, which he was washing in the sink.  I don't know if I should be shaking my head at a dog who eats pennies, or a boy who thinks they're worth fishing out of the 'end product'.  Now, if that dumb dog starts plopping out $50 bills, she might be worth keeping around.

When a regular airplane just won't do...

My boys like paper airplanes.  A lot.  They make them everyday, by the dozens.  They have several airplane-making books.  Joe, especially, has become quite good at it, too.  Other kids come to him to have him make airplanes for them, because his are just so darn good.  The only problem (and it's a big one) is that the boys cannot seem to part with any plane they have made.  Planes fall out of my bookshelves all day long; they fill the spaces under their beds and on top of their dressers.  Too many times I've gone to print something off the computer and can't, because all the paper has been made into airplanes.

So it seems, this afternoon, my oldest son has outgrown the simple 8.5 x 11 airplane size, and he has started taping multiple sheets of paper together to make a bigger, better plane.  I expect to be out of paper and tape by dinner time.

Not the best week ever

Poor Renee, she barfed in her bed this morning.  It's always such an awful thing; it's hard to know where to start cleaning up the mess.  Bigger kids (hopefully) tell you when they feel sick, and can be directed towards the appropriate receptacle before disaster strikes.  Little ones just open up and let it fly with zero warning.  Kids have a knack for throwing up in bad places.  If you have washable tile or wood floors in every room of your house but one, kids will go into that room to throw up.  Or have a bloody nose.  Or a potty accident.  Or spill their juice.  Pets abide by this same principle, and seem to prefer peeing, pooping, and puking only on clean, white carpeting.

If you are what you eat....

Then this is a portrait of me.  I love donuts.  However, they do not love me back.  I'm sure I'd feel lots better if I ate better; moderation is just not one of my strong points.  Many a day I have gotten out of bed swearing off all sugar and junk food determined to eat healthier.  This lasts until I get hungry again, then it's donut time.