Skip to main content

Not the Tightest Ship, But Still Floating

 When Ross is away, I wouldn't say things get totally lax, but maybe a little looser than they would if I had back-up.  That's why the kids have spent the last two days throwing dirt clods at each other as a form of entertainment.  I only stop it when they start picking up rocks, logs, or there are actual tears.  I've only had to intervene once, so I feel like it's a pretty good way for them to work some things out.  I am going to have to wash sheets and children tomorrow, however, so there is a downside.  

I kind of love this season.  So do the boys.  They always look forward to the change in seasons - that is from fire season to burn season, and they will likely smell like wood smoke for the next six months.  With Ross gone, I've put them both in charge of the fire in the woodstove.  It's obvious Fischer takes after his dad.  The house was so hot the first day he got the fire going, I had to open all the windows.  We let the house cool off for two days before I could even think about having them build another one.  

The girls definitely miss their dad when he is away.  Me too...because disciplining them is a two person job.  Carter.  Carter makes her own rules.  Today, she got in trouble for unbuckling her seatbelt while I was driving.  She gave me an exasperated, "But Mom," and some excuse I didn't understand.  I made it abundantly clear that it wasn't safe or allowed.  Despite that, she unbuckled again when we had to go somewhere a couple of hours later.  I told her since she had already been warned she would have to have a swat when we got to our destination.  Once we arrived, I helped her out of her car seat and explained again, "This is a swat for unbuckling and not being safe."

To which she replied matter-of-factly, "I like big swats."

Swat administered.

She turned, looked at me and very sincerely said, "Thanks.  Thanks, Mom."

So, that seemed to be a success...very effective.  

It's a rollercoaster with this circus.  One minute they have me mad and the next I'm trying not to laugh.  I'm emotionally confused.  Sawyer came in filthy the other day, par for the course, but I was admonishing him for not at least brushing off before coming in the house.

"Buddy!  You have pine needles in your hair!"

He made a swipe at his head, and grabbed at some of the debris.  After briefly looking at it, he looked back at me like I'd lost my mind.  "These aren't pine needles, Mom.  They're fir.  Pine needles are much longer."

Thanks, Baby Einstein.  Can you please just take them out of my house?  

Is it all really worth the effort?  Sometimes I wonder.  My future sons and daughters-in-law, their future roommates, whatever the case may be,  they better appreciate the work I'm putting in here on the front end.  Hopefully, by the time I have them trained up they will change their underwear on the daily, not drop their trash wherever they're standing, and have a solid understanding of inside voices.  I'd even go for two out of three.  

Pray for me.  


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pink Stinks

Our girls, like most four-year-old girls, love pink.  And purple.  And sparkly things, unicorns, butterflies, lizards and cats.  But especially pink.  Their brothers aren't so fond of pink.  They prefer the color dirt.  I know this because it's what they have chosen for the color of our walls, windows, light switches and their socks.   "Do you like pink?"  Emerson asked Fischer one day not long ago. "No." "Why?" "Because pink stinks !" Cue 'angry tears and screaming.' This of course delighted her brother who began using the line anytime he wanted to see her cry.  Which was often.  It didn't change her passion for the color, however.  She still demanded the pink plate, pink cup, pink shirt, pink shoes, and pink gum if she had the choice.  Because pink is the best when you're four.   Fast forward a couple of weeks.  The girls were collecting pieces of garbage off the van floor.  Why?  I don't know, b...
Post a Comment
Read more

Triple Threat

 People think we are raising twins, but they're wrong.  We actually have triplets: Emerson, Carter, and Carterror.  It's true.  Carterror doesn't hang around often, but when the days are long and naps have been missed, she comes out swinging.   Today, when we should have been napping, we ran errands.  We needed some grain for our cows, so before picking up the boys from school, we stopped at the feed store.  The girls spent a little time looking at all the fish, birds, and pets they have for sale.  Immediately, after telling them not to touch the tanks, Carter tried to go fishing.  That's when I realized Carterror had arrived.  I called her name to stop her and realized her shirt was exceptionally lumpy.   "What's in there?" I asked, pointing to her newly developed bosom.   "My kitty," she replied, pulling out a stuffed cat from her sweatshirt.  A minute later, we were walking down an isle of bovine parapher...
Post a Comment
Read more

Fear Factor

 Did you know that it has been not  scientifically proven that a baby can smell her mother's presence through a closed door.  It's probably the smell of fear that they are actually attuned to, but nonetheless.  I hold my breath and walk on tiptoe past the baby's room and still get busted nearly every time.  My fear is pungent. Besides waking the babies, I have another fear currently in the forefront of my mind.  Don't mind me, this is just another episode of True Confessions.. .  Here it is: the boys are getting so much outside time that they are building up incredible endurance.  It's great really, but it is   becoming  so hard to wear them out. It used to be an hour at the playground and we were golden.  Now, they basically put in an eight-hour workday, and it's just a warm-up!  Does anybody have a treadmill....?  Real school is going to be a bit of an adjustment for the big guy next fall.    Speaking of s...
4 comments
Read more