Johnny Saves My Day...

We took Aidan, Ava, and Cooper to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs at the movie theatre today. It was in 3D. Aidan was so excited, and Johnny and I kept trying to talk him down a little, explaining to him that it's not quite as neat as it sounds, blah, blah, blah. We were both remembering the little paper eyeglasses with one red eye and one blue eye. And how disappointed you felt if you had removed your glasses during the ONE time in the movie that something jumped out of the screen at you. Well, Aidan is a 21st century kid, and he was not disappointed. Apparently, Johnny and I are hopelessly clueless when it comes to movie theatre technology. 3D has changed since 1980something. The glasses are a tad sturdier, and you have to return them when the movie is over. (They clean them in a dishwasher-type machine. Germaphobe-Me had to ask.) And you can only see 3D movies in a specific theatre, made for 3D. And if you remove your glasses the picture is slightly blurry. You HAVE to wear the glasses, or leave with a monstrous headache. But the picture is unreal. I don't even think words can adequately describe it, except to say that you feel like you are a part of the screen, and that the movie is happening right around you. Don't think that they don't know how cool it is either. They charge $3 more a ticket, and we saw a half-dozen previews for upcoming 3D flicks. Movie producers think that they are on to something.
I only saw the first half of the movie because Mr. Cooper Ingram decided it would be more fun to hang out in the lobby where he can RUN and practice some of his new vocabulary, "O-Kay Ma-Ma". (To be fair, Johnny only saw the 2nd half of the movie for the same reason.) This was after we'd spent the day waiting for Coop's flu shot---so everyone missed nap. Then I came home to put dinner in the oven (that I had made at 10am), and our nightmarish dinner routine began. My children are not fun to cook for. They are picky and ungrateful, and tonight I threatened to put them all on a diet of bread and water so that they could learn gratefulness and appreciation. It is a very disheartening job. I love to cook, and yet they only want to eat pizza, chicken nuggets, or soy butter sandwiches.
So my patience was wearing thin after dinner when Aidan and Ava were jumping on the couch, and I had asked them to stop at least 3 times, when I finally uttered, "Listen to me. If your feet touch my couch again, I am going to smack you. Do you hear me?" They temporarily froze. My children may be insensitive at times, but they've all learned to recognize the signs that Mommy is about to flip out. (I hate to think what our neighbors hear now that windows are often open...) That's when my husband came, and put his hands on my shoulders and said, "Come with me right now." I had no idea what he wanted, I figured he was going to get me away from Aidan before I clobbered him. Nope. He had another surprise. My darling husband had run me a bubble bath, FAR AWAY from everyone in the master bathroom, and brought me my dinner (which I still hadn't eaten), and a glass of wine. How sweet is that? I realize that this sounds a bit like a Danielle Steele novel, but my husband takes a lot of hits in this blog, so I want everyone to know how great he is. I almost cried with relief. I ate my dinner and ready my book in peace for 25 minutes. And he had even turned on the fan in our bedrom so that I couldn't hear any of them. It was a small piece of heaven. He is a really good guy.

Zoe---the dog next door.

On my very best days, I can say that I think I am a pretty good mom to Aidan, Ava, and Cooper. Sort of. At least I hope I am.

But I will be the first to admit, I am an average to below average "Dog Mom". I feed Zoe, I let her play outside, I give her heartworm medicine, I stay current on her shots, and I pet/love on her once or twice a day, but I don't treat her like a child, and in this day and age, that is often seen as doggy neglect. Zoe is a great dog for our family. She's small, mannerful, doesn't bark much, likes the kids, and doesn't whine about the fact that she spends 75% of her day in our kitchen. Zoe is 90% potty-trained, but that last 10% prevents her from having free rein of our house. I have really nice carpet, and I intend to keep it that way. I have been down that road before. Ever heard of Chesapeake Apartments? My pug Wolfgang got us blacklisted there for destroying the carpet. He was a puppy, and I was naive. And now Zoe pays for Wolfgang's mistakes.

Anyway.....Zoe is a shih-tzu. Shih-tzus can have really long silky hair. And I brushed Zoe's hair 2 to 3 times a week, but apparently this is not enough. Zoe's groomer informs me that a shih-tzu needs to be brushed twice a day. Oh yeah. That's going to happen. Even the members of this family who temporarily lived in my womb are only guaranteed one hairbrushing a day, two if we have big plans, but I'll make sure that Zoe gets 2 lengthy brushings a day. Hell, how often do I, the formerly high-maintenance girl, get the privilege of running a comb through my own hair twice in a 24 hour period? Anyway, most pet lovers (and groomers) view my sarcasm as a reason to pity my pet. I actually have been conditioned to feel shame and guilt when I drop Zoe off at the groomer's. I brushed her for 5 minutes before I took her there on Thursday. I fixed the silly little hot pink bow on her tiny head, too. But they still found me out! Apparently Zoe had a lot of matted hair very close to the surface of her skin, underneath her silky layers. The groomer called me, very distressed. Should she shave these? Should she cut her hair shorter? Uh, yeah to both, please, now can I go because I'm at the Bread Store and my older children are trying to touch my baby's uvula. The groomer was so upset at the crazy haircut that she had to give Zoe that she saved all of the clumps of matted hair, IN A ZIPLOC, so that I couldn't refute her findings. I went to pick Zoe up, and the groomer was gone, so the receptionist brought her out. Sweet little dog, she missed us! I kind of giggled that my little shih-tzu now resembles a lion, and proceeded to write my check. The receptionist hands me the ziploc.

Me: "What...is THAT?"

Scared Receptionist: "Amber thought you might want to see it, so you'd understand why Zoe's cut is a little choppy."

Me: "No, thanks, I believe her. Can I schedule her next appointment?"

Scared Receptionist (looking surprised): "Amber thought you'd be mad."

Me: "Why? She's not a showdog. She's just a nice little family pet, and I need her hair shorter anyway. I don't have time to brush Zoe twice a day."

(As I say this, I gesture to my three kids who are starting to play in the tray of doggie treats at the door. At this point I'm wondering if the Receptionist has noticed Ava's haircut that she gave herself. If I can look at THAT everyday, surely she must get that I'm pretty laid-back.)

No Longer Scared Receptionist: "She's sure a sweet little dog."

Me: "That's why we love her!"

See, now I have formed an alliance with the groomer. I'll no longer be that "Bad Dog Mom". I'll be "The Nice Lady Who Didn't Freak Out Because her Shih-Tzu Looks like a Lion". I can just feel the shame melting away. I took a high-maintenance dog, and made her low-maintenance. Sorry Zoe, but this family did that to me, too. Sometimes we have to take one for the team. When these kids grow up, you and I will go to a spa for the weekend.

By the way, these pictures don't do her new cut justice, but Zoe is very shy of the camera.

Life would be so dull if I shopped alone.....

The Scene: Wonder Bread Store
Shawnee Mission, KS

The Players: Cooper (riding in the shopping cart)
Ava (pushing the shopping cart)
Aidan (begging for day old Twinkies, etc.)

So I am about 6 feet in front of the kids when I overhear Aidan bossing Ava around.

Aidan: "Put your finger in his mouth and touch it, Ava."

Me: "No! We don't put our fingers in anyone's mouth. That is very germy. And you know that Cooper will bite you. Why are you doing that?"

Aidan: "We want to touch his uvula." (I swear.)

Me: "Wh-h-hat? How do you know what a uvula is?"

Aidan: "I just do."

Ava: "Yeah! We want to touch Coopah's yugolah!" (Not a typo. Ava has a southern accent and calls her brother Coopah.)

Aidan: "Ava, it's a UVULA, not a yugolah! And if we touch it, it will make Cooper throw up."

(Cooper is sitting in the shopping cart, curiously looking back and forth at all of us during this exchange.)

Ava: "Mom, will Coopah throw up if I touch his yugolah?"

Me: "Anytime you put something far back in your mouth it is possible to stimulate your gag reflex, and that could make you throw up."

(Other shoppers are starting to stare.)

Aidan: "That's why I threw up when I ate those peaches. They touched my uvula."

He takes after his father. Really.

Children at Work

Last week I went to a meeting at Language Lane. The boys were at football, so I had to take Ava with me. While the adults were talking, I watched her out of the corner of my eye, fluttering from center to center; playing kitchen, doing art, and then playing dress-up. It was then that I saw the most amazing sight. I saw my messy 4-year-old daughter take off her princess dress, walk over to the corner, put it on a hanger, and hang it up! No, I wasn't drinking. I blinked and looked closer---so many emotions to process at once. Shock. Glee. Wonder. Relief. Annoyance. Is this the same messy child whose room has caused me to cry? (Not really, but if I were a weaker person it might...)
I didn't know that 4-year-olds were grown up enough to hang up clothes! Why didn't anyone tell me? I don't think I heard anything for the rest of the meeting---I was too busy planning. Hope just appeared on the horizon for one worn-out mommy.

Aidan and Ava now put away their own clean clothes----Woo Hoo! Wait, that was not enough.

WOO-HOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We've done this two nights in a row now, and it works! I hand them their little clean pile, they carry it upstairs, put the panties and jammies away, and then hang up the rest. Both of the kids have closets with a built-in organizational-type unit, and it has clothes bars at 3 levels. They can both reach the lowest level bar, so I moved all of their clothes that they wear on a regular basis down within their reach. And I have to say that they do a really good job! And no complaining so far. We're going to institute an allowance next month, because that's what you do when you have servants. You pay them. Yes, that's what they are---little servants. I have to admit that I love being able to delegate chores to them after almost 6 years of being the chef/maid/chauffeur of this household. It is a relief. Maybe I won't die of exhaustion after all? I always said that I would raise my children to be self-sufficient, but I just didn't know at what age to start. They would have you to believe that they are incapable of anything more than throwing the occasional toy in a toy chest, but it's a lie! They are clever. There's a reason that children have so much energy----their mothers are doing all of their work for them! Aidan and Ava are on their way to laundry independence. Next up, it will be Johnny's turn....

I Hope He Doesn't Keep a Journal....

Aidan is learning to spell by phonics. It is pretty exciting to see your child starting to read and write for the first time. Maybe one of the coolest milestones since he learned to walk/talk. But my fave was Sunday night. I was taking a bath, and I heard Johnny yelling at Aidan. I couldn't make out the dialogue, but when I got out of the bath, Aidan had been banished to his room. About 10 minutes later, Johnny and I were laying on our bed, just talking and watching TV, when the gutsy little exile marched back into our room with a chalkboard in hand.

Johnny: "What are you doing out of your room?!"

Aidan: "I have to show MY mom something!"

He made a sassy little stance, and held the chalkboard up for all to see:

HLP

DADE BAD

Translation: Help. Daddy bad.

I had to roll over into my pillow so he couldn't see me laughing while his father ran him out of our room yelling things about being disrepectful and not knowing how to spell.

Sometimes I like to remind Johnny that this is the child we paid thousands of dollars for.

Touchdown!!!!

Aidan Ingram's first career touchdown!

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Mommy vs. The Laundry

I am having trouble keeping up with life this week. That's why the blog has been slow. I have cooked 14 meals, driven to and from Basehor Elementary 10 times, and driven to and from Language Lane 6 times. Monday we had Dance/Gymnastics. Tuesday was football practice and a Nucleus Parents meeting at Language Lane. Wedneday we went out to lunch with Grammy and Papa, and we hit the circus that night. Thursday was ANOTHER football practice, because after all, he is five years old. No slackers allowed. And all of this gives me the perfect excuse to my biggest dilemma of the week:

These clothes are clean. But instead of jumping on to hangers and running up two flights of stairs, and then neatly putting themselves away, they have chosen to lay in neat stacks in the Family Room, (for two weeks now, but who's counting?). The kids have learned to play around them. My family has been wandering downstairs to get dressed every single day. And the real problem is that I'm losing my sense of shame about it. Ava was crying about not having any clean Littlest Pet Shop panties, and I found myself telling her in an exasperated way, "Well go downstairs in the pile and GET SOME!"

Sad confession: I am going to take a nap this afternoon while these clothes sit in stacks for yet another day. I am tired, I have to work this weekend, and I am not wearing myself out over something as boring as laundry.

Ava's heart.

Ava saw the cardiologist on August 31st. It took me a while to post this because, quite frankly, we have been heavy on the drama around here lately, and I couldn't bear to write any more serious posts at the time.

Everything with Ava is fine, though. Her murmur was categorized as a "pulmonic ejection flow murmur" and deemed "innocent". They did an echocardiogram, (Thank you Blue Cross & Blue Shield. I know that you must want to drop us after the month we've had!), and it was determined that Ava does not have any structural abnormalities in her heart. Praise God!

The appointment lasted about 2 hours, and there was a 30 minute window in there where Dr. Goertz told me that we needed to rule out a hole between Ava's atria, which would necessitate surgery to correct. This was before the echo. Having just spent time with a sick Cooper the week before, I came to recognize something about myself. When someone tells me that something is, or could be, wrong with one of my children, my first instinct is to get nauseous. I then want to scream and/or pass out. And both times, I'm looking at this little person thinking, 'I am the mommy. I cannot act scared. I have got to keep my act together.' It is a hideous, hideous feeling. And I was blessed enough both times, that our outcomes were positive. But my heart goes out to parents who deal with bad news. It is a crippling, desperate sensation. Do you know what else I felt, though? At the height of my anxiety, I felt the Holy Spirit assuring me that everything would be okay, and that I was not alone. That might sound crazy to some people, but I just know that's what it was. This is not something that has happened often to me in my life, but it's just something that I've come to recognize. And by the way, when I say "everything will be okay", I don't mean that everything will turn out exactly as I want it to. It's more like everything will turn out according to the way that God ordained it to be, before the beginning of Time, and because I love and trust Him, I don't need to worry. I hope that makes sense. I don't want to come off as righteous here. The only reason that I write about some of the stuff that I do is for my children. I want them to be able to read this for encouragement later on. I want to give them a picture of what I believe, what gets me through life, what my faith means to me, etc.

August was a challenging month in this house. I am hoping to coast through September with mundane issues like laundry piling up, children who color with markers on hardwood floors, and how to cope with a very messy house that I feel no motivation to clean. Crossing my fingers....

Boys/Men 101

While I was fixing dinner tonight, I looked up and realized that I was surrounded by my Blessings. It was the nicest feeling to see them sitting there, two of them doing homework. I like this tradition. I hope we keep it up.
After dinner, Aidan had his first football practice. Aidan seems really enthused about football, maybe more than any other sport he has played. He was giving those coaches 100%, and I could tell that he felt very "tough" and grown-up. After practice he ran to Johnny and I, with his new jersey in hand, and told us, "Coach said until we start playing like men, our team name is the Butterflies. And I hate that! So we gotta hurry up and play like men." Help. My kindergartener wants to be a man. (Gulp.)
On the way home he gave us a run-down of who cried during practice. "One boy, he was hurt kinda bad. But I don't think his dad cared, 'cause he was too focused on the game." Aidan reported this very matter-of-factly, and I could tell that it has happened. Aidan joined the Boys Club when I wasn't looking. I dreaded this day, yet I'm also fascinated by it. It's hard not to live through your children a little bit, and this is a life that I'm not familiar with.
In the last year I've learned how to put on shin guards, how to buy cleats, how to shape a mouthgard, and how to choose a batting helmet.
I've learned that Aidan thinks he is a lot like Zach and Cody, because they just LOVE girls, too.
And I've learned that shirts with collars just aren't cool to wear to kindergarten.

I had the craziest nightmare last night. We all lived on a spaceship, and Aidan was running around the ship, and accidently fell out the door. In my dream, Johnny and I watched Aidan falling from our ship for a split second, and then I jumped out the door after him. In my dream, I remember thinking, "I won't let him disappear alone." And then I woke up. It was 3:01 a.m. I felt sick. I stayed up playing on Facebook for over an hour, just to shake off that crazy nightmare. I went and kissed Aidan twice. I know it was just a silly dream, but the vulnerability was very real. I just want to protect these children so badly, and they're growing up so FAST, and I can only do so much.

This is a lot harder than the books said it would be.

We call it Love...

Aidan is starting to read and write. He loves kindergarten! He put his first sign on his bedroom door. (First legible sign, that is.) I'm starting to live with "big kids" now. Not just toddlers and preschoolers.
And big kids are kind of mean......

That is a picture of Ava, with an X through her. "NO ... The Ava". Charming.

"Ava did what?!" (Soon to become a regular feature.)

I have mentioned before that Ava is obsessed with smelling things. Well, when we go to the grocery store, Ava's favorite aisle is where the coffee beans are stored. She loves to search under the bins for loose coffee beans, and then she carries them around, just inhaling their delicious aroma. I have always found this rather cute. Until today.

Apparently, as the story was told to me by my traumatized four year-old, she smelled the coffee bean so hard that it just "sucked up" her nose. The coffee bean was lodged so far in her nostril that I could not visualize it. She was panicky. I was a little nervous too. I have very long fingernails, so I bent right down in the middle of the coffee aisle and stuck my pinky fingernail all the way up her nose with no results. I had her blow several times. Nada. At this point I was concerned that she might inhale it, and it would end up in her lung. That's just what we need----another trip to Children's Mercy for chest xrays. Aidan was starting to cry, too. He was so scared that Ava was not going to be okay. He kept saying, "Mom! Get a WalMart worker so that they can help us!" Isn't that ironic? I have been an R.N. for 12 years; 5 of those years spent between the E.R. and I.C.U., and my son was more confident that the 150 year-old greeter with a cane could manage our medical emergency. (These kids are murder on one's self-esteem. First they ruin my abs, and now they doubt my ability to rise to the challenge and de-bean Ava.)

Here's the part where everyone can judge me. I had been at this store, with all three children, for quite a while. We only had two things left to get. I was contemplating a visit to Urgent Care, but that left my cart full of groceries...... And I'll be damned if I was coming back later. So to the horror of good parents and grandparents everywhere, I decided we were checking out before we dealt with today's drama. We hustled over to the hygiene section, threw some tweezers in our shopping cart, and made our way to the checkout.

This is my favorite part----I like to call it "where God shows up". The lady in the checkout in front of me hears me coaching Ava not to inhale too hard, and to try and blow her nose while I plugged one nostril, etc. She looked curiously at me, so I briefly explained our dilemma. She then introduces herself to me. She is a pediatrician at Children's Mercy South, (that's the Urgent Care). I was amazed. (And no WalMart doesn't sell Lottery tickets----I checked.) She then gave me several handy tips on coffee bean retrieval, and told me that she digs Polly Pocket shoes out of little noses 2 to 3 times a month in the Urgent Care. (Note to self: throw all little shoes in trash.)

Now, to make a long story short, while I was plugging Ava's "good" nostril, she was FINALLY able to blow the bean out of her nose at such a velocity that the snotty pellet stuck to my jeans in front of all of the other shoppers, while our new doctor friend applauded. Being a mother is so gross sometimes. And although I didn't get to try any of the doctor's tricks, I have a feeling my new skills won't go to waste. This job just keeps getting more and more interesting.

What's new with Ava?

What exciting thing is going on today in the Ingram household? Well, Ava cut her hair. She said it was bothering her. When she was done, she threw the hair in the trash, and put the scissors back. I didn't notice until I was combing her hair yesterday morning. I did a gasp/scream combo. I wanted to pin a sign on her, but so far there's been no need. Everyone who knows me, and knows Ava, has just said, "Ah...looks like someone got a hold of the scissors!"
She has no remorse if anyone wondered. That's not her style.

And not to be forgotten, rewind to August 24th.

Ava's First Day of Language Lane as a Blue Fish! Get it? She's no longer a Red Bear, she has graduated to the Blue Fish Class.

Lessons from Last Week:

These sad little grainy pictures were taken with my cellphone. Didn't take my camera with to Urgent Care, (which turned in to the Hospital admission). Aside from the deep, life-altering lessons one learns when his/her child is sick, I learned a few little lessons that I thought I'd pass on.

1. When you take a child to Urgent Care, for ANYTHING, make sure you are wearing clothes and shoes that you could be comfortable in for up to 24 hours. You never know if you'll be home in 2 hours or not.

2. When you give your darling spouse a list of things to bring to the hospital, be specific. Johnny was an angel---bringing shampoo and conditioner, and even a razor, on his own. But when I asked for a new pair of underwear, he brought my polka-dotted Victoria Secret Cheeky Hipsters. I'm glad he couldn't see the disdainful look that I gave these panties in the poorly lit 3x3 bathroom at Children's Mercy. First of all, slutty panties are not comfy when sitting in a vinyl hospital chair all day. And secondly, I was in full-blown "protecting my young" mother bear mode. I needed plain white granny panties----left over from my maternity days. Serious mother panties.

I had too much pride to ask for them, though. I like to keep the illusion alive for him that I'm still the crazy girl he married.

3. Text. Phone calls wake the baby.

4. Every time anyone comes to visit, use them as a babysitter---go walk around, get a drink, take a mental break.

5. Bring lots of money. You will buy your child truckloads of things from the gift shop just to see him/her smile. Things that they no longer play with a mere 4 days later. :)