getting dressed

I am the mom. I am not a fashion model. Nor do I always know what shirt goes with which pants. Do not ask me for fashion advice, as I am not a fashionista. I used to follow what was hot and what was not, know which collections were amazing and even the names of some of the photographers. Not anymore. Now I dress for comfort, not for speed. I own more running shoes than heeled shoes, and cannot think of a single item of clothing I have purchased in the last eight years that has not been primarily involved in the care and raising of small children. I am not complaining, just stating a fact.

It is only fair that my children reflect this disinterest in fashion back at me. From the time they are old enough to choose their own clothes, they do. I really care only that they are dressed when they go out the door.

I prefer that the school aged one wear his clothes right side out, but I don't always see that they aren't before he goes out the door. So it goes (God, I love Kurt Vonnegut). I know how cruel children can be and would spare DS that. Then again, his tags don't hurt him when they aren't touching him.

I prefer that their genitals be covered by panties or tights when we are out, but sometimes the girls are commando because they are wearing pants and therefore covered. Can't really argue the logic. DS will wear jockeys under his pj's since the incident with the zipper. Use your imagination.

I try to avoid upsetting stomachs with clashes in fabrics and patterns, buying in certain colour families to harmonize the children's clothes, but when it comes to hand-me-downs and gifts, I'm certainly not going to throw them away. Some gifts may spend their lifetime packed in a box until they have been outgrown, so I don't have to worry about sunburns from spaghetti straps or blisters from poor fit. The kids pick out their own clothes. It's an easy battle to not have to fight.

Obviously, I don't police their clothing choices that much. I do have some controls though-nothing that I wouldn't wear. For example, 4 YO DD gets a tankini, not a bikini. She's FOUR! Four year olds are not sexual objects. No short shorts for any of them. Eww. If you don't want to picture me wearing it, it's really not suitable for a child. Now get the image of an overweight almost forty year old with cottage cheese legs wearing hot pink short shorts out of your head! HA!

I have decided that this will be my strategy when the children are older. You wanna go goth? emo? metal? wear your ass hanging out of your jeans? I'll dress just like you OUT IN PUBLIC. I don't care about looking like a fool, but as a teenager, you might not appreciate having a fifty some year old dressing your age. That's my plan. Think it'll work?

the nose

In our house, we have problems with nose picking. We all suffer from seasonal allergies and well, it just makes for some booger issues.

At dinner yesterday, looked over at DS(7) and he had a finger up each nostril, chewing.
"Get your fingers out of your nose!"

"I just wanted to see if I could chew with my nose plugged."

Trying very hard to control ourselves, snickering and snorting madly, hiding our faces until we could clearly respond, "And could you chew with your nose plugged?"

"Yes, but it is very hard to swallow."

Oh the things you learn at the dinner table. At least we were at home and not out to dinner with someone we were trying to impress:)

Cussing again.

BG has a new favourite word. Dammit. Well, actually it is my favourite word. I say it all the time instead of saying other, less polite words at those rather stressful times.

Milk has been poured, overflowing the cup, going all over the table, the book I'm reading, the chair and is pooling on the floor. Dammit.

Someone has removed their soiled diaper, stepped in it and walked all over the carpet to get to the potty. Dammit.

Someone has used a pencil to draw pictures all over the walls in the kitchen, dining room, play room and bathroom. Dammit.

Someone has jumped the queue for using the toilet, leaving tears and puddles in their wake. Dammit.

I'm going to have to find an even less offensive word for those times. Dammit.

condoms

DH went through all the condoms, sorting out the expired ones. He left the lone unexpired one out on the kitchen counter. DS wandered over.
What's this Mom?
Well, you can read, what does it say?
It says unlubicked condor. WHat's an unlubicked condor?
Unlubricated condom. It goes over a man's penis to prevent pregnancy and the spread of STD's.
OK. Thanks, Mom.
and he wandered off. He'll be 7 in a month and a half.
I am so looking forward to the sex talk with him!

stickers

I have a love-hate relationship with stickers. I'd love it if the children only put them on paper as opposed to on everything they see- the wall, the toilet seat lid, each other, the furniture, the windows, the floor, their socks, me, the fridge, the doors, library books. It gets tiring removing them from various surfaces. I hate cleaning them off everything. Maybe it is a hate-hate relationship instead!

Oh my God. That's so gross

Every once in a while, the children do things that send the heebie jeebies right through you. Sometimes those things also make you want to vomit. A brief list of things from the last week:

DS picking his nose and eating it.
DS picking his nose and wiping it on me.
DS licking the windows.
DD sucking the water out of a bath toy and there was mold in it.
DD picking her sister's nose.
DD's commentary about her bowel movements-little ones, chunks, big ones that went under...
BG spitting out her mostly masticated and very large mouthful of noodles.
BG peeing on me before the alarm went off in the morning.
BG finding random bit of food in the crease of a chair and eating it.
BG swirling her toothbrush in the toilet and then sucking on it. Thank God it had just been flushed.

And that is just this week!

me time

Wahoo! A little me time all to myself! DH has the three kids and is dropping off the brother-in-law across town. I have almost a whole hour to myself. What to do? I could watch an episode of 'Bones', take a bath, do more tidy-up, exercise, plan out tomorrow but no, I'm here at the laptop as my alone time.
It is sooo easy to type with both hands, sometimes I forget what it's like. Usually the other hand is busy supporting the busiest as she falls asleep nursing. And I mean busy. Even falling asleep, her toes and fingers manage to make their way onto the keyboard. Typing quickly with one hand is a skill that should be taught in pre-natal classes. Too bad she's too big to swaddle.
I can hear myself think. Wow. It really should not be underestimated how much noise two short ones can make. No "Mom, come and see what BG is doing!" or "SCREECH! Mine! SCREECH! Mine" (BG doesn't have alot of words yet) nor do I hear that most ominous of sounds-nothing. That means getting up and looking for the two quiet ones and pulling them away from whatever they have gotten into-makeup, playdo, beads, crayons, markers, glue...you get the idea. It's not like I leave it out, they just find it. BG is a climber and DD is sometimes a follower. DD is usually really good at following the rules, unless breaking them is something she really wants to do.
I could just go to sleep. I realize it is only 8:00. If Heart and Stroke weren't dropping off my volunteering package, I think that is where I would most like to be. If I went to bed now, I could conceivably get a three hour stretch of uninterrupted sleep. That would be so cool. A typical night right now- DS and DD start bedtime about 7:30, in bed by 8:00, songs until 8:15. BG is carrying on all this time. BG in bed at 9:00, falling asleep 9:45. Bathroom break until 10:15 or so. DD pottied ( the verb meaning put on the potty) at 10:45. BG nurses about three times in the night. DD wakes about twice in the night. DS sleepwalks or nightmares every third night or so. Nights are challenging. Naps, when we get them are very helpful at maintaining our sanity.
Goodnight!