Two shoes . . . need two shoes.

It's 9:00 in the morning here and I've banished my children to outside play.  They helped me to bake some banana macadamia nut almond bread and it'll soon be 90 degrees, so now is the time to send the gingers out for some sun.  Kaiya, the 8 year old drama queen, was outside before I could finish my sentence.  Ronin was entranced by Angry Birds, so it took a bit of prodding.  Tanith, my Princess Thunderfoot, stomped through in one pink sneaker.  The other foot was bare.  I told her that she needed two shoes, and she returned with a black dress shoe and an orange Chuck Taylor while still wearing the pink sneaker, mumbling about how she needed two shoes.  We put the orange Chuck on her left foot and she stomped out to the swingset, singing about how she has two "mashing" shoes.

She just returned, threw on a Batman cape, and informed me, "I am the night!"

Conversations with strangers

Almost every time I leave the house with all three children (which is often), a bystander isn't scared off by appearances or behavior (slightly less often), and the bystanders want to be social or ask questions, I encounter some variance of this conversation.

Bystander: Are they all yours? (While looking around and counting)
Me: Yep.
Bystander: Wow.  They sure are full of energy  How old are they?
Me: Small is 2, Medium is 5, and Large is 8.
Bystander: (counting again) How old are you?
Me: 83 . . . I mean 30.
Bystander: (counting) Wow, I thought you were a lot younger.
Me: Thanks?

It makes me wonder a few things.  Do they think I wandered around town, gathering up stray children who look alike?  Do they think I started having kids at 12?  Do I really look that young, or are they just being nice to make up for the fact that they just asked my age?

Tornado Watch

Our neighborhood recently had a tornado warning and a watch.  I went outside when the watch was announced so I could secure a few things in the yard. When I returned, my 7 year old had packed a bag of towels, stuck her head in the sink to wet her hair, put on snow boots with her shorts and tank top, and built a secure pillow fort. My 5 year old was in cowboy boots and a Batman costume, calling himself Crow. My 2 year old was sitting on top of the German Shepherd mutt with a basket of mismatched shoes and a helmet.
I think my family may be reinforcing the weird homeschooler stereotype.

Clean all the things!

I woke up this morning in full-fledged "Clean ALL the things!" mode around six this morning.  It's one in the afternoon now and it still hasn't passed.  The kids have been involved on and off, in between school and making more messes.  I've scrubbed and decluttered a few rooms.  Decluttering is my big problem.

I'll be going through and getting rid of stuff like it's my job or something and everything is fine.  Toss, toss, donate, give away, yay! Then I see that pair of pajamas.  The old man pajamas I bought 13 years ago and have worn constantly ever since.  They're baggy blue flannel and covered in penguins.  Every time I put them, on, I think I'm stealthy like a penguin.  They're the two most perfect pieces of clothing I've ever owned.  They've been the one constant in my life through all these years.  They're not without their problems, though.  They're full of holes, the elastic is shot, and after all these years of wear, they're pretty stained and beyond fixing.  The buttons have had so much stress put on them, they've ripped holes in the fabric.  For some reason, I can't get rid of them.  I walk them to the trash can and freak.  I've put them in the trash a few times, but they hop right back out and into my drawer. 

I used to wear these things all the time.  I'd come home from work and put them on immediately.  I'd leave shows and events and wear my penguin pajama shirt on the subway ride home.  They went with me to the birth of my first child.  I still wear them on a regular basis.  I'm wearing the top right now. 

Somebody needs to come over here and burn them or say they're taking them to a new home where they'll be loved.  Somebody else needs to find another pair of baggy old man pajamas that are covered in penguins.

The original "Clean all the things" post.

Kaiya thinks it's hilarious when I reenact memes.  She got photographic evidence this time.

Bat Milk

After over 8 continuous years of being pregnant and/or nursing, it's over.  I'm done.  It's kind of a relief, but at the same time, it's a bit of a drag.

1. Breastfeeding helped to regulate my blood sugar because I was eating more often.  I'm not doing that now, so my hypoglycemia has reared its ugly head once again, causing me to crash on a regular basis.  
2. I no longer have boobs.  They're almost completely gone.  The only reason for wearing a bra is to conceal my nipples.  I don't really mind because I've always been a bit flat and never cared too much about them.  I don't need two large fatty, potentially cancerous masses attached to my chest to remind people I'm a female.   I have a marvelous ass, so who needs tits?
3. Now that she's no longer nursing, Tanith must ask to nurse on a regular basis, even though she cared very little about nursing toward the end.
4. I've never been a calorie counter, but since I'm no longer burning an extra 500 calories a day, the brownies, cupcakes, jelly beans, candy bars, and dairy free ice cream sandwiches I down on a regular basis might take their toll.
5. Is there a link between breastfeeding and giving mothers a healthy immune system?  I haven't found one in writing, but I've been sick pretty much the entire time we've been weaned.
6.  I don't have a magical plug to make Tanith quiet.  Nipples have always been her mute button.  They're fantastic.

 All in all, I can't really say I regret weaning.  She's over two years old, so I fulfilled the minimum requirements for the WHO.  At least I won't be asked if I'm STILL nursing anymore.

Tanith now wants milk in a sippy cup.  Not just any sippy cup.  It has to be a Batman sippy cup.  No one may reveal that it's cow's milk unless they want to face the Wrath of Tahn.  A recent conversation with my darling youngest child.
Tanith: I'm firsty.  Want bat milk in my Batman cup.
Me: We have cow's milk.  We have almond milk.  We have coconut milk.  We don't have bat milk.
T: Bat milk is right there. (points to quart of cow's milk)
M: That's cow's milk.
T: Nope.  Bat milk.  (points to letters) See.  It says BAAAAAAT MIIIIILLLLLLLK.
M: Okay, here's your BAAAAAAT MIIIIILLLLLLLK.
T: Thank you.
M: You're welcome.
Later that night, Tanith is drinking milk from her Batman cup.
T: This is not bat milk!  This is cow milk.  Want bat milk.
Robby takes the Batman cup, pretends to refill it with the same exact milk he had used before, and hands it back.
T: That's good bat milk.  Thank you Daddy.

Snowpocalypse 2.0

The south has been hit with another round of winter weather.  This time, I've been trapped inside the house since Tuesday.  It's Friday now, and I'm going batty.  Against better judgement, I let the children watch The Snowmen episode of Doctor Who, so they haven't been interested in playing in the snow.  When I say it's bad down here, it's bad.  It's not just that Southerners aren't prepared for driving in the snow or that the roads weren't salted. 

The mail trucks didn't come around here yesterday, and I've got a lot of angry eBay buyers because the postal planes have been grounded.  When I called eBay customer service this morning with my laundry list of questions, the person I spoke with was very understanding and asked how the weather was in my area and how we were holding up.  I asked if he had seen The Shining. 

I'm starting to feel like Jack Torrance.  After last year's ice accident where I slid and sideswiped some dumbass who had decided to park on a busy city street without using emergency flashers or brake lights, I don't drive if there's a hint of ice, so we've been here since Tuesday.  When we got home from gymnastics on Tuesday, I still got stuck in the 2 inches of snow that had accumulated on the grass in our yard.

Lloyd the Bartender needs to show up soon if I'm going to keep hearing the Angry Birds song.  I've been waiting for him, but he must be up in Wake County partying with the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and this guy.

 
At least we homeschool and won't have any Saturday make up days.

Snowpocalypse 2014: The Preparations

We're supposed to be getting a bunch of snow here today.  I know a lot of you are saying, "What's her deal?  It's just snow!" But I live in a rural area of the south.  We don't get it often and our roads are usually bad.  I've never even seen a snowplow on our road. The hordes wander out to the nearest stores in search of milk and bread.  I needed meat, fruits, and cold medicine.

We've been learning about American heroes in social studies, such as John Glenn, Neil Armstrong, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Paul Revere, and a few more.  How are these related to the snow?  You'll see.  Kaiya was asked to tell some of the similarities and differences between these people, and her first response was. "Rosa Parks didn't go to the moon."

I had all 3 kids in a grocery cart today during our preparations for the upcoming snowpocalypse.  We had finally finished our lap of the grocery store and were in the line to check out.  The larger children were sitting on my grocery bags, so I asked them to stand up.  Kaiya said loudly, "Who do you think I am?  Rosa Parks?  I'm not giving up my seat for the white people!"  Tanith heard this, and being the two year old parrot, chimed in with, "No seat white people!" Ronin got the final word with, "Rosa Parks never walked on the mooooooon!"

And this is why we stay home.

Ronin's favorite fingers are the tall ones.