Shopping Cart Shenanigans {and the mom's who photograph them}

Yeah. So things are nothing short of chaos around this place about 97% of the time, right? Well, this Christmas break absolutely failed to disappoint. Sometimes I wonder if that is good or bad. Anyway....there I was, doing dishes, when I hear WAY too much laughter flowing from Remy's room. Of course, that much laughing can mean only one thing.....

all

kinds

of trouble.

So I make my way to the bedroom, camera in hand, and this is what I see:

Hmmm. Good thing I brought the camera, right?
Apparently, it is a boy's DNA to do dangerous things with a shopping cart, regardless of the size or quality of said cart. Needless to say, I stayed to snap a few more shots.
Things got a bit rough right away...
and after only about two or three times down, my common sense kicked in, and the shopping cart shenanigans were put to a stop.

For now at least. Will I ever get used to this?

cute {boys}

We all took a trip to Brodie's school last week for his class party. It was insanity, but totally worth the slight (to severe) headache. He loves going home with mom before school is actually over. It really is the little things. Isn't it? Remy wondered the halls with me, which was all too cute. Tai spent most of the time with Brodie making projects and meeting his friends. I did, however, catch this gem of a shot:

Really? These moments make me happy.

Pete Schweddy's Got Nothin' on these Balls!

And we're back!!!!!(In creepy radio personality voice). Oh, how I've missed you, and I can only surmise, that the feeling is mutual. So, I've been on hiatus from my obsessive blogging, but I assure you that it was only to make it through what is the insanity of the holiday season. Though I have been slacking, I promise that my children have not taken any breaks from their typical insanity.

Rewind.... about a month ago, a friend of mine brought this amazing little treat to our small group. It was heavenly. It was these delectable little balls of peanut butter and rice crispies enveloped in a rich chocolate shell. Mmmmmm. I decided that this would be my contribution to our Thanksgiving holiday celebration, so just days before Thanksgiving, Matthew went out and obtained all necessary ingredients, and the countdown began. For days, which folded into weeks my kids asked me "What is all this stuff for?" and "When are we making the special treat?" "Mom! You said that we could make our desert today!" They were right...

I was slacking. Not completely out of character for me, I must say. Still, there is no excuse for making small children wait weeks to make junk food. None. Needless to say, Thanksgiving saw no such treat, but the day before Christmas eve, they cornered me.

"Mom, let's make a delicious treat." Tai is hilarious. Love him. He then says "I will wear my chef clothes!" For those of you who don't know, Matai is going to be a chef, and he is completely serious about it.

"I want some CHef clothes too!" Says Brodie (mind you chef has a very hard "CH" sound. He doesn't believe me that it is pronounced shef. Kids and all of their newly obtained knowledge!) However, we only had one costume and he had to make do with an old Home Depot apron. He is creative.

So it began. I can't even tell you how many times we had to stop to wash hands when a wandering finger made it's way into a salivating mouth just seconds after being reminded NOT TO LICK!!!! Ahhhh! Stressful as it was, (and very, very messy), in the end, we had these wonderful little treats that I am sure rival SNL's Schweddy Balls. Matthew has taken to calling them the Kruk Family Jewels. Not sure this will stick considering it is a stolen recipe! Anyway.....here are the chefs:

Brode Man

Every now and then this little man surprises me. He likes to think that he is a total tough guy. He is, in fact, just as sweet as pie. Today, we made cookies at Nina's house and Winnie came over too. They had a blast playing hide and seek for what seemed like a zillion years. Brodie found the perfect hiding spot, and it took Winnie and Matai about fifteen minutes to find him (I had to tell him to come out). Winnie, who is their little cousin, wanted a chance to hide, so she ran to her spot, which was just about in plain sight. My brother whispered to Brodie "Can you let her think that you don't know where she is? Pretend that you can't find her for minute." Brodie just said, "I know that." He humored her for a few minutes, and all was well in world of cousins. He is so cool.

Again?

See Remy.

See Remy enjoy an Oreo McFlury.

Mmmmm. Looks good. Right.

See WHERE Remy found his McFlury.

Gross Rem. Now, this is first time that this has happened since my last garbage eating post, I swear. However, it is the absolute worst garbage eating event as of yet. Lets hope it is the last.

Ahhhh!

For those of you who thought that perhaps my Remy could not possibly get any cuter than this:

I regret to inform you that you were

very

sadly

mistaken.

As a result of our newly diagnosed stigmatism, Remy is now sporting his very own pair of specs.

And holy geez, it is freaking adorable.

Really?!

tickle {tickle}

Kids are weird. I don't know that I will ever be ready for some of the whacked out things that come out of their mouths, or the strange things that they actually physically do. I can, however, promise that if something ridiculous happens, my camera will be near by....how else am I going to blog, right?

Dinner time, Friday night. I'm totally lazy by Friday, so pizza it is. The divying up goes as follows, Brodie usually eats three whole pieces, Matai eats one whole peice, and Remy gets one piece cut up into smaller bite sized peices (we use scissors, it makes it super easy. Write that down). Today, little Rem-dog finished his 'za and wanted some more. Dadio decided to give him a whole piece this time. So, super excited little boy picks up his slice and says "Oooh. Coool." So cute. I, of course, run for the camera. No joke this is what happens. Little man strips his slice of all of it's cheese, and proceeds to tickle his pizza. Observe:

"tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle" Ahhh, he is so cool.

the fight of the century!

Now, let me just say, that you will ONLY see this here. A never before seen smack down for the history books went down in my very own kitchen. Oh yes....

Snake Eyes

vs

Batman

Things got off to a rough start. Snake Eyes is a bit unsure of his skills.

Batman took the lead pretty early in the game.
Oooh! An injury sustained just moments in. And I quote: "Ow! He hit me in the part of my head that makes my brain work!" ....that would be his temple.

Poor Snake Eyes.
No mercy. He learned that from Johnny.

Can you believe that jump kick from Snake Eyes? Batman is totally Zen.

Batman has a soft spot for the underdog. He helped Snake Eyes with some minor repairs to his weaponry.

There you have it. The perks of motherhood are many. This will be legend.

I a play.

Dear Tuberous Sclerosis Complex,

You suck, and Remy is going to destroy you.

Picture this:

Remy, in his playpen...it's 10:43 pm, and he should have been sleeping hours ago.

I hear, "Look! Look!"

I look over to see him pointing at his own picture on a shelf on the wall. Too cute. And super exciting I might add. Just a couple of minutes later, my incredible, amazing, beautiful, child (who is missing a huge chunk of his brain) says this:

"I a out"

I say "I know you want out, but it is night night time."

He replies "I a out. I play."

Grinning like a lunatic and with flutters in my own belly I say: "No, it isn't time to play." To which, I get the quintessential toddler response. "Why?"

Ha! Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached two!

Eventually I hear him, while sitting on the floor of his playpen, holding his Mickey Mouse (which he ferociously makes out with on a minute by minute basis) he says this. "No night night. No night night Mickey."

Really?!

Can anyone BE

this

amazing?

Him. He IS that amazing.

good times.

"Mom! Now can we make the gingerbread train?"

"Yeah mom. We want to make a gingerbread train. We have gingerbread men to put in it from Nina's house."

"Please! We reeeaaalllyyy want to make the gingerbead train!"

We probably had this conversation about 39 times in the span of four days. I could not figure out what it was about the gingerbread train that had them so worked up. Finally, on day four, I had no excuse. No real reason why we could not assemble this piece of work. So we did. As you can see, Matai was

so.

so.

pumped.

So there we were, breaking up the cookie pieces, opening the various frostings, and taking stock of the the differant candy varieties that would adorn said train. I mean, these kids are shaking they are so excited. Still, I can not figure out why they are so happy to put this thing together. It is, after all, just decoration, right? About six minutes into the decoration process, I hear the question for the first time.

"Can we eat it now?"

Ah. Now it all makes sense.

Mommy's little {garbage eater}

Blah! Can I just say that there is no way on this crazy planet that one can be prepared for what raising three boys will entail. Obviously, it is an adventure, one that leaves me nautious some days, but still, an adventure. I adore NEARLY every second of raising my little freak shows, but still....come on! Now tell me, have I disgusted you all enough with my previous posts, or are you ready for more? I say

bring.

it.

on.

Right? Ok, so Remy's latest and greatest: He LOVES trash. He loves to play in it, eat it, throw it around, crawl in it, stomp on it. Whatever. So typically, I just reroute the little punk, but this time, I needed documentation. I needed to remember this. I wanted a picture, because though atrocious it may be, it is semi-normal. He has to stand in front of the can to feast, which he does, regularly.He also has to reach really far down inside without falling, another good therapy exercise, right? Right.... Here he is shopping:

So busted.

He knows too. That is what kills me. He hears me coming and just works faster so that he can finish before I can get my hands on him. Maybe he does have a little of me in him after all.

Oh, here is one of him snacking on a cheerio he found on the floor near the garbage. Listen, no judgement. If your child has never eaten garbage, or dirt, or old food on the kitchen floor or lady bugs (Matai's chosen delicacy), then maybe I will sign up for your parenting class. Otherwise, lets just enjoy the story, k?

Oh, and did I mention that he is walking? Yeah....walking.

~sigh~

~double sigh~ I.love.him. Garbage breath or not.

genius

This kid. Oh....this kid. I love this kid for reasons that I cant even put into words. He is quirky, and sensitive, and silly, and spaztic, and creative, and strange, and beautiful and....completely insanely genius.

Brodie is crazy proud of the fact that he can now read chapter books. He read his first one at home this week, and was super psyched to use a bookmark at the end of chapter five so he could go to sleep. Even more impressive to him than the fact that he can actually read said book, is the fact that he can't read it all in one sitting, and therefore it is necessary to utilize a tool designed to mark his place. Oh, to be excited over a book mark. These are the days. Right?

By the way....report cards came to day. Again, I say, genius.

You're kidding...right?

This is SO not what I had planned on writing about this morning. I had a super cute story laid out, with adorable pictures and sweetness. However, things have changed. Things have transpired in this household that 1. can NOT be ignored. 2. changed the way that will be cleaning the boy's bathroom. and 3. made me want to vomit.

This boy.....

....looking innocent and sweet and to the untrained eye....clean, is gross.

So this boy, this beautiful little child, has a problem. He CAN NOT pull himself away from anything engaging in order to go to the bathroom. Now you see, I don't desire to be the blog-mom who gets readers based on fart and poop jokes, but it just so happens that I am, in fact, surrounded by farts and poop. Yuck.

Alright, now picture this. Super cute bathroom, used by super cute boys, smelling like an outhouse. I don't get it. I have been bleaching that floor constantly, and still, it stinks. I only go in there to clean, and to make sure that it is presentable for guests, which is no small feat when it is used by little boys. While the stink is a constant in our hallway bathroom, this past couple of days has been a little more intense than in recent history. Last night, I was collecting laundry, and when I went into "THE bathroom", I hit a wall of stank. I think I even gagged a little. I had to find the source. So, I pick up the laundry and take it to the laundry room. I clean the toilet seat and bowl and then scrub the floor around the front of the toilet. Still smells. I move around to the side of the toilet to clean behind and.......that is when I found it. At first I thought that some laundry had just gotten back there, but upon further investigation, I learned that this was not the case. As I reached around and picked up a pair of underwear, out it falls. Oh yes, poop. and under that first pair of disgusting Pirates of the Caribbean underwear was a pair of soiled Star Wars underwear. And you guessed it, under that pair of soiled Star Wars underwear, was a pair of poopy tighty whities.

Really?! Stashed poopy underwear? Where on earth do they come up with this stuff?

Needless to say, we questioned the suspect, received a full confession and he has been given his sentence. No Wii or computer, because they are life suckers that do not allow him to get up and POOP!

Wait a minute.

Yeah, so I guess that 10 years ago, if someone would have told me that the back of my car would look like this:

I would NEVER have believed it. Skateboards and helmets and knee pads and elbow pads and wrist guards and strollers and a walker and toys and blankets for the drive in and probably a few old french fries too. The thing that I love so much about my life is that is so far from anything that I ever could have imagined. I mean, I guess that I knew I would be a mom and that I would marry someone one who loves me insanely. That I would have a healthy and loving marriage with and amazing man. Still, it is crazy, and

filled

with

boys....

~sigh~ I am in love.

Aye, me.

So, when you have a little guy with special needs, especially when dealing with neurological disorders, you're pretty much always looking for "stuff". Every little thing that they do, if it is at all different from their "norm", is scrutinized, and analyzed, and weighed and measured,

no

matter

what.

One thing I am always on the lookout for is sensory stuff. Anytime Remy shows any type of fear, or discomfort in a situation, my mind wanders to sensory disorders. It can actually be sort of all consuming. Exhausting, even. And so, it goes, I have begun a new obsession in the world of "Does Remy Have a Sensory Disorder?". He is TERRIFIED of the shower. It is super weird. The sound of it throws him into a frenzy, and he can't rest until he closes the bathroom door and hides in his bedroom. He is a complete spaz, and it FREAKS ME OUT. Now, he is not afraid to take a shower with me, but alone (I often would bathe him on the shower floor, he liked it, and it was just easier)...not happening. During a regular bath in the tub, he even started trying to climb out all together. Obviously, I immediately jumped to the conclusion that he had developed some sort of water aversion. This would, no doubt, make bathing very difficult. Panicky moms, always come up with the best solutions...

Kitchen sink bath! Of course! He wasn't so sure at first:

But he started to warm up to the situation a few minutes in.

We even clapped and sang a few songs.

Now, we have a perfectly doable bath time routine with no tears.

.....and no fear of water either.

Baby Legs!!!!

Hey everyone. I was hoping that you might want to help an A.MAZE.ING family with an A.MAZE.ING cause. Click on the information below, and learn a little bit more about how Gavin Owens changed lives, and how his parents are holding up the tradition!The Owens family is an inspiration to families of children with special needs, and my hope is that they will be the same to you.

....a mullet?

NO! Not his hair! I know what you were thinking...but just forget it, these locks are no a mullet! They are a beautiful, luscious waterfall of golden waves, and don't you forget it.

God bless 'em! Kids and their ridiculously hilarious word mixups. They make me want to cry. So, here we are, making breakfast, and beginning our daily ritual of readying ourselves (you remember "the list", right?), when Matai comes up with the best one I have heard in quite some time.

Me: "Hey guys, what do you want for breakfast?"

Brodie:" I don't know, what do we have?" (EVERYDAY! THE SAME THING! HE KNOWS WHAT WE HAVE!)

Me: "You can have waffles, or cereal. What one do you want?"

Brodie:"A waffle!"

Matai: "I want fruit loops!"

Me: "You want fruit loops Matai? Do you want milk on them?"

Matai: "Yeah. And I want them in a mullet."

.....Hm. A mullet? I can't even begin to guess what a mullet might be. Well, he is four, perhaps he can explain.

Me: "What in the world is mullet?"

Matai: " You know, the kind of thing that you drink your coffee out of. A mullet."

~sigh~

Really? How cute is he!? Love him, and his totally cute little self. Days that start like this make me smile.

Brodie Noochies

Wow. Really, that is it. Just wow. I don't know how the essence of an adolescent girl can be inhabiting the body of my six year old boy, but I suppose that maybe stranger things have happened. Or maybe not. Regardless, this morning has been dubbed, the morning from Hades. It all started with "the list"....

I try really hard to give my kids a sense of independence. I think at their ages, they are perfectly capable of doing most of the things needed to get ready in the morning. On the other hand, I also need a bit of control, surprise, so I have implemented the list system. Thanks to the amazing women at the ISD, I have these little laminated squares with different tasks on them. I made a poster for each child, which they decorated, and hung them in their in their room. There is a spot for the things that they need to DO, and a spot to move the squares over when that task is DONE. I don't care what order said tasks are done in, I just ask that they are done in time to leave for the bus. Well, included on this list is the task GET DRESSED. Parent's....if you are going to put your child in charge of dressing themselves, be sure that clothes are laid out the night before, so as to avoid a situation like the one we had here this morning.

As I am walking out of my own bedroom this morning, I see Brodie, sitting on the couch, wearing a pair of track pants that are about two sizes too big. These were a hand me down from a cousin, and have been used as pajama pants thus far. On this day...during this week when I am working very hard to get up at 6 am, so that I can be ready for the kids, and focus solely on them, he decided to wear THOSE pants with a shirt that in no way, shape or form coordinates with them. Not a huge deal, I guess, but I just don't want him wearing 1. pajamas and 2. pants that have about a 99.9% chance of falling down before the end of the day. I say to him.

"Brode, you can't wear those pants to school. They are pj's."

He says to me, "No they aren't! I got these from my cousin! I want to wear them!." Please make not of the exclamation points. For whatever reason, he is very passionate about these pants.

"Brodie, they are pajamas because they are way too big for you, so you can't wear them to school."

"They aren't too big! See!" He really just pointed to the pants, proving absolutely nothing one way or the other.

I took a minute to think about this. Where do I take this conversation. Do I force him to change his pants, or do I try to talk him into just changing his shirt so that he at least matches when his pants finally do fall off? I decide that he can make a choice. I am really big choices. I truly believe that a child will feel much more independent and capable if they are able to make their own choices. I say to Brodie:

"Brodie, you can either wear those pajama pants, with a different shirt, or you can keep that shirt on, and change your pants. Your outfit doesn't match."

"I don't care if it matches! I am wearing this! I'll never, ever change my clothes. Never!"

Hmmm, I am now caught in the middle of giving up and letting him win or standing my ground, so that he knows that he has to obey. Well of course, I stand my ground. I say to that crazy little kid, "Brodie, if you choose to keep that outfit on, than you are choosing to loose a privilege today. Do you understand that if you wear those pajama pants and that shirt, you won't be able to play the Wii. It is your choice."

Complete meltdown mode is full force. He is grunting, and growling and howling and all in all just carrying on like a lunatic. But he KEEPS THE CLOTHES ON! I send him to the car, where this unbelievable display continues all the way down to the bus stop. He becomes even more and more irritable as the wait for the bus drags on, and so I start to discuss it with the rest of the bus stop moms. (By the way, at this point, I have lost my patience, and really needed to calm down myself) He hears us talking about him and gets even more agitated. One of the little guys, who is a complete sweetheart, and was in to way being mean says, "Brodie is crazy today!" An absolutely accurate observation, so I say, "I know, he is." Well apparently, that was the last straw. He ran to the van, jumped inside and hid in the back.

Of course, immediately, the bus turns the corner and it's lights turn on. I run to the van and tell Brodie that he needs to get moving, and he is TICKED. If it were possible for smoke to actually come of someones ears, it would have happened. He starts toward the bus, gets about 20 feet away from it, and turns around, HUGE tears in his eyes, and just stares at me. ~sigh~ He is heartbroken. The bus driver looks right at me, closes the door, and drives away! (this particular issue may be saved for another post, but really?! You're just going to drive away!? No warning?!) So, we get back in the car and his meltdown continues all the way to school. I had him come to the front seat when we got to the school and we talked things out a bit. He said that people had hurt his feelings, and it made him sad, and that he doesn't wan't to go to school when people are mean to him. My snotty nosed little boy told me that people at school aren't very nice to him, and he doesn't want to go any more...

How can a six year old break my heart? I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to go to school, and that we could just go home and play and watch cartoons, and have fun. But life doesn't work that way, does it? I had to talk my little guy down, and send him into that school....

all

by

himself.

~sigh~ Does it ever get easier? Will I ever feel ok about stretching him, and forcing him to experience new things? Will I ever be ok sending him into a building full of people who might not see what I see? People who might not understand just how perfect, and bright and beautiful he is inside? With people who don't know what he has had to sacrifice by having a sibling with special needs, and that he missed out on his mom and dad for weeks at a time and just needs a little understanding. He is dealing, and growing, and changing and still.....he is amazing.

I went to his classroom to check on him and bring him a book. He was sitting in his seat, perfectly still, listening to his teacher (in the outfit). Gosh, he is a good kid.

Mrs. Turley sent him out and he smiled at me on the way out, licking the snot off of his upper lip.

"Are you doing ok Brode? Is your day getting better." He gives me hug, and holds on a little longer than he usually does.

"Yeah I'm alright. I gotta get this book to the library, the cart is gone now."

Amazing, I'll be effected all day by what went on this morning. He, on the other hand, has already moved on. I love him. And today, I am thankful for his grace.

**Thanks for the encouragement today, fellow bus stop moms. It meant a lot.

A thuk!! {Huh?!}

I've been getting up earlier lately. I made this promise, mostly to myself, that I was going to do things to avoid situations that can throw me into my typical irrationality. I decided that getting up at 6:15 would let me be ready when the kids get up, so that I can focus 100% of my time and energy on them. Great idea...right? I thought so. Well, Remy is absolutely foiling my plan. For the past few days, he has woken his crazy little self up at around 5:45. What? Really? And more importantly, why? I have no idea what the deal is, but man...I am so over it.

So, I let him get up. If I don't, his insane screaming will wake up the rest of the house, and an unrested is Brodie, is an evil Brodie. Well, I'm up, now Remy's up and he needs breakfast and meds, so I skip my own morning ritual and get to the work of motherhood. By the time that I am finish tending to Remy, the bear that is Brodie in the morning comes stomping down the hallway, by now it is about 7, and I really need to get moving, or else things are going to ugly, fast. I give Brodie his clothe, tell him to get dressed and run into my own bathroom to get ready. I really only NEED 20 minutes, but I'm lucky if I'll get 10, so I get moving. About five minutes into my hellish hair straightening routine I hear through the monitor:

"Ah. Ah. Ah thuck! Ah thuck!"

At first I completely ignored it, and chalked it up to Remy yelling with his crazy (though extremely entertaining) babbling. I go about my business and a few seconds later, I hear it again.

"Mooooom! Mooooom! Ah thuck, ah thuk!"

So.... maybe I should check things out? Ugh! Off I go, checking every room on my way through the house. Family room, no baby. Bedroom, no baby. Dining room, no baby. Kitchen, no baby. Wait! I walk around the island in the kitchen, and this is what I see:

Remy had pulled himself up into the top shelf of the lower cabinets and gotten himself stuck with his feet off the ground. He was STUCK! You may not be as excited at I am at this point, but what you need to understand is this: Remy got himself into a situation that he could not get out of, realized he was in trouble and called out a TWO WORD phrase that he came up with ON HIS OWN to get help! When I didn't come right away, he directed his ingenious two word phrase AT ME! He kills me. And I had to stick around to take just a few more:

I should mention that he gets into this cupboard on a daily basis. It makes me insane. This is what he does. He empties all of the clean dishes out of the cabinet, and puts them into the dirty sink, causing about two times the amount of dish washing. Not cool little man.

The only thing that was in this sink before Remy had his way with my dishes was the ceramic plate in the back, a pan and three coffee cups. The rest are all clean, and now contaminated with the disgusting dirty "dishness" of the sink. Thanks Remmers.