Life in the Kid's Lane

Sunday Stories Vol. 1

I have found that Sundays are great days to get lots of the cute, amazing and funny stories that you all come here for, mostly because I spend so much more time with my kids on Sundays versus every other day of the week. I am not committing to giving you a weekly rundown of Sunday stories, but I will give you what I get.

This Sunday seemed to be extra special, or I was extra attentive and took away a few gems for your enjoyment, so here you go:

Story #1: Killer Zoom-O

I was in an early morning church meeting and I received just this picture:

A couple minutes later I received a follow-up text stating something about a Zoom-O. Not exactly sure what had happened, but recognizing that there may be a need for stitches, I excused myself and came home. I assumed at a minimum, I should be home to help with the rest of the kids. When I got home, I found out that the weapon also attacked #3 (not pictured) getting him in the nose. Turns out it was just a scratch on his eye, thankfully. For those of you curious about what a Zoom-o is here is a picture of the weapon:

So what am I most thankful for? This was a gift given to #3 by his Uncle, so thank you Sam for the injuries. I am even more grateful that they did not get hurt using the Wood Cutlass' I made for them!

 

Story #2: All Boys Go to Greece

#2 recently won a reading contest, having read almost 6,000 minutes in a month. As part of his prize he had his choice of a book. He decided on one titled "Greeks"  Its more of an encyclopedia than a story book, but he likes them. So in any event, he found pictures of Greek Armor and decided that he wanted to create his own. I provided him 3 large sheets of Aluminum foil, and this is what he came up with:

  

Story #3: Every Living Thing, and Even Some Non-Living Things

There is a scripture that says something like, "...every living thing shall bear testimony of His existence..." For those of you who are unfamiliar with the ways of the Mormons, once a month (not this week, mind you) members of the ward congregation are invited to come up and share their feelings on the Savior. It's a sort of "Open Mic" night, but during the day, without the lame come-ons, and in a church. Well #3 was walking in the house from church, holding his Bionicle creation, saying in a menacing, robotic voice "I want to bear my testimony... and if you don't let me I will beat you up!" Imagine seeing this at the stand the next time you walk into an LDS chapel:

Story #4: A Wrathful God

We were all watching a movie together Sunday evening, and in an attempt to be a good father, I paused the movie at a moment when the main character had a choice between lying and telling the truth. I asked the kids what would happen if that boy decided to lie. #2 responds without missing a beat with, "God would come down and punch him in the face!" I don't really think there is much else to say after that!

Just to be clear, this was all in just a matter of a few hours.

Gourmet Mealtime by the Slacrdad

I realize this is no surprise to many of you, but there are moments when I give in to my frustrations and act out. Often, I act no better than my four year old. Tonight was one of those nights. For dinner we all had bow tie noodles, beef tri-tip, peas and mushrooms in a creamy stroganoff-style sauce.

Now, I have the type of kids that rather than trying something new, they automatically start gagging and telling me how much they don't like whatever has been placed before them. I will admit it has gotten better. We have tried a few different approaches to this. First we said, if you don't like what is made for dinner, you can have PB&J. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, no matter, you complain once, you get PB&J. That lasted about a week.

Secondly, we tried to just accept their pickiness, and rather than complain about their disdain for my labor-intensive dish, just be prepared to make them something else, accepting that this is one of those battles that we do not have to win every time. That also lasted about a week. (Apparently every battle is one that I want to win)

I recognize that I am as responsible for their pickiness as anyone by catering to them this way, but all the same it is very frustrating.

So back to dinner tonight, #2 decides he doesn't like the sauce. Having already discussed with #1 and #3 their opinions of the meal, I was not in any mood to have a third distinct conversation. But he insisted. #2 doesn't like the sauce. Having just finished the plain spaghetti noodles for #3, I decided to take the lovely dish described above and put it in the strainer and wash off all the sauce that #2 found so revolting.

I thought my wife was going to puke right there at the dinner table. She could not believe what I had done. Her reaction sparked tears with #2, thinking that I had made a dish that he was certain could not get any worse, in fact more disgusting than it originally had been.

After he got over the tears, i simply told him, its this or nothing. My wife, seeing that I was not backing down, granted me a rare moment of control and decided to stay quiet. Just for all you out there who think I am a complete moron, I will say #2 actually liked the food better now that it was rinsed, and finished his plate.

If you're looking for a moral or the great parenting tip in this story, you've come to the wrong blog. Unless of course, it is that you stop trying to cook gourmet food (from a freezer bag), if your kids are picky eaters.

Where'd all the good people go?

I was reading a friends blog today and became both inspired and ashamed at the same time. I should start out by saying that I am not a good friend. I believe there are a lot of people that are like me. They require the assistance and support of a spouse, or a really good friend to keep relationships alive. These are the type of people that scrapbook and make quilts. They write hand written notes and make pancakes from scratch. I'll give you an example: My parents-in-law are difficult to shop for, they have everything they need or want. My sister-in-law, Missy is one of these really good people I referred to earlier. This last Christmas she took all the pictures from our family trips during the summer and had a story book made out of them. It was great! Everyone loved it, my mother in law couldn't get enough of it. What you may ask, did we get them? An iTunes gift card.

I am not this way on purpose, I just tend to let the rest of our life get in the way. I rely too much on work and church associations to create social environments for me to interact with people. If your ward splits off of mine, or you move further away than across the street, it gets more difficult for me to maintain a good contact and strong friendship. I want to be a thoughtful, good friend, its just really hard to fit it all in, its exhausting sometimes! That is where my ashamed feelings came from. As far as my inspiration? I am not one to try and fool myself into believing that overnight I am going to become one of these good people, however I am content to sit back and feel good about what others can do, until I get enough motivation to change.

What does all of this have to do with the blog I was reading? Well check it out for yourself: http://allred-clan.blogspot.com/ Melinda is one of the best people I know. I'm not talking about one trait or one skill or one quality, I am talking about the whole person. She and her husband are a couple of those good friends I don't deserve to have. I give them Christmas treats around the holidays (mostly because their house is on the way out of the neighborhood), When my wife tells me we are having pork chops for dinner, I sometimes stop at their trash can on my way home to throw away the Wendy's bag I don't want my wife to find (you know you've all done it), and I read her blog.

As you read her stories you begin to see, she has an amazing gift of taking what to most, are difficult and back breaking situations and turning them into funny, inspirational, and emotion-provoking stories that help me realize I am not the only one with a crazy, sometimes out of control life. You also see through the content, that she is a pretty impressive and talented person. Probably the best thing I get is that through her open and honest sharing of feelings, I realize that I'm not the only one who gets frustrated, and wants to in her words "...drop kick [insert kid name here] out the window..."

I know its cheesy, but Melinda is an inspiration and I often find myself shedding a tear either from laughter or emotion while reading her posts. So for the other four of you that read this blog now have another source for great stories. You're Welcome!

All of us know someone who inspires us to be better, I am fortunate enough to be surrounded by many. I get relief knowing that someone I admire so greatly struggles with the same things i do and is still a great person, I get hope I have a chance! So thank you to all of you that are such good people, living extraordinary lives, and providing the inspiration you do. I enccourage all of you to take a minute and share with someone how they have impacted and inspired you, and I'd love to hear how that went!

P.S.

It should be noted that Melinda was the one who one my New Year's Resolution contest last year, and as far as I am concerned, a mention in my blog counts as an Amazing Prize of Great Value! Just reward or extortion? You be the judge.

Battle of Wills

There are moments when you look back and wonder about certain events in your life. The most memorable are usually the more defining moments. Your first kiss, your first car, the first time you could buy sugary cereal, you know, real moments. I had one of those moments this week, but it wasn't one of those positive defining memories.

I was sitting at this very desk working away when Kid #3 started climbing on the desk, slipped a bit and hit his hip on the corner of the desk. Let me be clear for all those active imaginations out there, he was fine, no blood, no scratch, barely even a red area on his hip. For him however, it was broken he was sure of it. Crying, wailing, he pulled out all the stops.

Now, I grew up with a sister who was four years younger than me. In our interactions and playing, she would often get hurt, usually with no assistance from me. But when I was the one who caused her pain, I would respond as if I was Doogie Houser, MD and begin the diagnostic. (It's funny how she was never concerned about the fact that her assaulter was now her medic) If for example she hurt her finger or hand, I would state, "Well if you can bend your finger up and down, then it is probably broken!" Being the attention seeker that most little girls are, she took the bait and began frantically bending her finger, clearly indicating that she did not in fact have a broken appendage. At which point I would "lovingly" push her away and declare she was fine. This, I am certain would still work today.

Having had such great success with this approach, I deftly applied the same tactic on #3. He responded the same way. His reply simply was "I can walk on my legs with no limp! It is broken!!" Trying to quell the hysteria, I proceeded to explain to him that if it were indeed broken we would definitely need to take him to the doctor's office (at 8:45 PM) With his older siblings just the mention of a doctor would have miraculously healed their greatest ailments, so I felt rather confident this would end similarly.

It was in this moment that he caught on, and I missed it, or perhaps my pride stepped in and wouldn't accept defeat from a four year old. He calmed down and said, "OK dad, let's go to the doctor." Determined to prevail, I continued with the empty threats and lies.

Me: "Well son, if we go he will have to give you a shot, probably a lot of shots..."

#3: I know, I will be brave so I can get a treat after wards."

Me: If it is broken in just a certain spot, they may have to remove your leg completely."

#3 a bit fearfully: "How will I walk?"

Me, triumphantly: We'll have to get you a plastic leg that will be strapped to that side of your bum."

I should also mention that this conversation is happening in the car, on the way to the doctor's office, which is closed. I NEED him to give in before I get to the office, and he realizes that I am bluffing.

#3, excitedly: So I'll have a robot leg?!"

Me: "But what about the shots and the saw to cut off the leg? Remember when you had to get stitches and you dried so much??"

#3: "Yeah, but that's when I was three, now I'm four, I'm a lot tougher,"

I was toast, we pulled into the doctor's office, I was still grasping on to a shred of hope, now that we were here, he would lose his nerve and want to go home, admitting to me that it was not really broken. Instead, we got out, walked up to the automatic doors, clearly closed at 9:00 PM at night. All I could say was, "I guess we'll have to wait until tomorrow morning, I sure hope you don't get an infection in the night..." I was hopelessly committed to a lost cause. When we got into the car to go home, he laughed and said, "It's not really broken, I was just joking!"

This was a defining moment when a small part of me died. In reality, many small parts died, some dignity, some authority, some pride, and a lot of credibility. The next 20 years with this one will be interesting.

Innocence Preservation

FINALLY #1 lost her tooth!!!! In case you are unfamiliar with our family, this has been a point of contention for nearly six months. This wasn't the first tooth she has lost it was actually the fourth. And based on the experiences of the first three, she really had no reason to fear the loss of this tooth. Here is the breakdown:

1. She wiggled like a good little girl really worked it, then when it was time she came to me, I barely tugged (bumped it really) and it fell right out. (literally fell right out)

2. Kid #2 and #3 had recently acquired a new bunk bed. In an attempt to improve the fun factor of ascending to the top bunk they decided that the lower child would put the arm of a stuffed animal in their mouth, while the upper children pulled up the supposed passenger with the other arm of the stuffed animal. #1 came running down, and told me very calmly that her brother pulled out her tooth. It never hurt her, no pain at all. Now keep in mind this tooth was not loose nor was it ready to be pulled out. We are still awaiting the adult replacement of that poor lost baby tooth.

3. Nothing special here, loose tooth, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, and she pulled it out herself.

So going into this one, we had high expectations. Should be easy, it was one of the front teeth on the top. Easy to access, easy to wiggle, all things said this should be perfect. We could not be more wrong. She was deathly afraid of this tooth, she refused to touch it and wouldn't allow me near it. I tired to reason, I tried to persuade, I used logic, I lied and told crazy stories about giant needles and mean dentists. The three times she actually agreed to allow us to pull on it (and to say allow is a huge stretch, more like while she was sleeping) after I pulled, she said it didn't even hurt.

Finally with the promise of a very valuable bribe coupled a very real threat, she let her mother pull. She skillfully and gracefully pulled and twisted all at the same time removing the tooth before anyone knew what happened. Glory! For any one else in the world our joy was definitely overkill. But none of you have lived through it. Even her teachers were grossed out by this dangling, half-inserted snaggle tooth. so Don't judge us in our over zealous celebration.

But this isn't even the best part of the story. This has just been to lay the ground work for the real story.

Our kids use a handmade "tooth pillow" that their mother used 30 years ago. Now I am all for family momentos, but that is just gross. I have three boys and the wife wants to hand down the underwear from boy to boy, again, too gross. I am not so hard-up that I can't afford to grant my boys their own fresh underwear. This from the same woman afraid to get toys at the DI or Salvation Army.

Used teeth pillows and used underwear = gross out city.

Back to my story.

#1 puts the tooth on the pillow and slips it under her pillow. We all go to bed, and I wake up about 4:00 AM to exchange said tooth for a slightly wrinkled and used $1 bill. I get about half way into the room and she sits bolt upright, completely awake. I was busted. You see she is a very light sleeper, like me. Any small movement or noise and she wakes up. So quickly I tell her the following story:

"Honey, I just got a call from the Tooth Fairy, and she is very concerned because she had you on her schedule tonight to come and get your tooth (because she has been waiting for it for a very long time) and unfortunately she was in Pittsburgh and ran out of money! You see, with all the snow and ice storms that have been happening back on the East Coast, more kids have been falling and busting their teeth out. So when the tooth fairy arrived to pick up little Johnny's tooth, she often would see that his brother Jack also had a tooth under his pillow. So she is hitching a ride with a truck driver to Fairytopia and will stat on the West coast tomorrow night."

Some of you may say that goes beyond a story, you may even call it a lie. I prefer to think of it as innocence preservation.

In the Know

WARNING: I just want to qualify this post. Many of you understand that I say things here that leave me open for a wide array of judgments about my parenting skills and the eventual emotional challenges and subsequent therapy bills it will create for my kids. This post is no different. Some of you may wonder how I can say or think the things I do. In a nutshell, I am just being honest (most of the time ;-). So be warned, and if you have a negative judgment, please, keep it to yourself.

It was recently brought to my attention that there are a few of you that were not aware of the fact that we were having another baby until the#4 reference on this blog, or on my Facebook page. Let me clear the air a bit. Those that were in the know, are not better friends than the others. I've thought a lot about this and here is my response. 

This baby was a surprise. Now I say that knowing many of you are skeptical and laughing. But please refrain from any Birds and Bees references and offers to properly instruct me as to the "real" origin of babies. I am fully aware of how babies are made, I have three others. We all know they come from sharing a toilet seat, or if you are a "Glee" fan apparently it also comes from sharing a hot tub.

So back to the story. I felt very unprepared. Now I realize even as I type, that doesn't make a lot of sense, I already have three, what's one more? Well we decided that we were done after #3 arrived. During his delivery, the doctor expressed great concern about the wife's ability to have another safe pregnancy. So we gave everything away, and I mean everything! Crib (real wood mahogany with a nice mattress and very nice bedding), play pen, swing, Papasan chair, Baby Bjorn, running stroller, walking stroller, umbrella stroller, bike trailer, car seat, designer jeans, etc. Your very welcome for the treasures you DI shoppers found.

I was unprepared for other reasons that I can't really explain very well. I felt this pit in my stomach, I was scared and ashamed. I compare it now to how a teenage boy must feel after he finds out his girlfriend used the same toilet seat. I was irritated because, I had plans for life, knowing we had all the kids in school, I could reason with all the kids, they were sleeping through the night, and most importantly they were all potty-trained. I was also worried because of the whole "concern for another safe pregnancy thing" from this point forward referred to the "bad thing" (imagine me raising my hands making the parenthesis sign with my fingers as you read "the bad thing"). Basically if "the bad thing" happened, both the wife and #3.5 (he's not #4 at this point, because he's still chillin in the womb) would die because by the time we would know about it, there was almost nothing that could be done. If the wife were to die, I didn't know what I would do. How could I raise my kids? I know people do it all the time, there are millions of single parent families, granted I am a great cook, they would not starve but I am not a patient man, I am not a great dad without the wife. She helps keep me reasonable when dealing with them. She makes sure they do their homework, Plus, who would kick me in the middle of the night, when she has a dream I was with another woman.

I realize I was selfish, I was thinking only about myself, and I also realize it was that selfishness that got in the way of me being excited about this kid. I look back now and I didn't read to him like I did with the other kids, I went to only one of the OB appts. I put off getting another crib, picking a name, all of the things I was excited about the first three times, I was disconnected. I think I was afraid of getting attached and then having to deal with loosing him. He was born somewhere between Thanksgiving and Christmas (I am intentionally being vague for all you crazy stalkers that will steal his identity and run up a bunch of credit card debt in his name) I was not looking forward to Christmas at all either, and I LOVE Christmas.

I was a mess when we went to the hospital but when the baby was born, and all was well, the worries that had been plaguing me during the entire pregnancy just vanished. I fell for him, just like the other kids right away. It helps that he is super cute and a really good baby, because lets be honest, ugly babies are hard to look at. I mean I wouldn't know, all my kids have been beautiful, so its been easy to love them. There's a reason the phrase "he has a face only a mother could love" exists! (don't get worked up I'm just kidding, all babies are cute, even the ugly ones!)   But seriously, look at them!

Of course, mom is his favorite right now, something about 9 months of "bonding" and food, I don't pretend to understand. But I can make him smile and he takes it like a man when #3 body-slams him on the bed, but that only happens when the wife is out getting some "me" time.

So, there you have it, all my insecurities right out there on the page for you to consume. I wasn't keeping it secret, and only telling a "special club" of friends (wink, wink to those in "the club"). Please forgive me if you find yourself in that group of my friends who weren't in the know. And for those of you that didn't get it after my previous post where I mentioned #4 for the first time, you didn't deserve to know before now anyway.

Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth, Part II

In case you were wondering, #2 made it though the night.

Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth

As I sit here at my computer working, I am forced to listen to the aftermath of my seemingly incomprehensible punishment. #2 is moaning, and screaming about how this is the worst punishment ever, he can't handle it. He's not sure he's going to make it through the night, and on and on and on...

Let's go back a year or so when we added a bunk-bed to #2 and #3's room. There were three rules for the top bunk:

1. Do not touch the fan from the top bunk.

2. Do not stand up on the top bunk.

3. Do not jump off of the top bunk.

Simple, right? I was so proud when, for the first few months, whenever a new friend would come over, the boys recited the three very important rules. It seems I need to have some regularly scheduled "compliance training"

Tonight, #3 decided to jump from the top bunk to the bean bag, but jumped the wrong way and landed on his face on the floor... next to the bean bag...

When questioned, we discovered #3 was following the stellar example of #2 who had successfully made the leap just moments before.

Since #2 is nearly twice his age, we held him responsible. So what is the horrible punishment bestowed upon the criminal: He has to sleep on the floor tonight, apparently I am the worst dad ever!

Waste Management System

There are a few responsibilities and  that come with being a dad that I love, wrestling, playing catch, cuddling, teasing my kids, you know the fun stuff. But there are some responsibilities and titles that come with being a parent I could do without and would rather outsource such as Waste Management.

As in previous posts I have expressed my disdain for bio waste. Can you imagine how wonderful it would be if similar to trash pick-up, you could pay a reasonable monthly fee to have someone come in and clean up for you every time your child came to you in the middle of the night and said, "Dad, I made a mess and I need your help." or you get a call form your wife who says, " I was waiting to pick up #1 and #2 from school and #3 puked all over the truck, and I had to take care of #4, and I can't handle the smell, and you need to clean it up when you get home in seven hours..."

I should be proud of #2 and #3 who tried (on separate occasions within 2 weeks of each other), without waking me, to clean up their "accidents" in the middle of the night. The reality is the "waste" usually results in a few more spots on the floor to clean up, a handful of the "nice guest" towels getting improperly used (sorry guests, I'll let you be the judge of the effectiveness of our new washer and dryer) and inevitably a clogged toilet, and a "surprise" that was missed in the attempt to keep it quiet and dark for the rest of the family.

I believe I would most definitely even pay an unreasonable monthly fee for such a service.

Daytime

I was driving one evening with Kid #3 and he asked me where the moon was. After looking around for a moment, I told him I it wasn't out yet. He asked if it was hiding, to which I replied, I don't remember what it is called when the moon isn't out. Kid #3 wanting to clarifying my ignorance, asked, "You don't remember what the moon is called?!"

No, son I know what the moon is called, I just don't remember what it is called when the moon doesn't come out." His answer was, "It's called daytime dad..."

So clever and so cute.

And for the record, the cycle is called new moon, but I am sure all you Twilight fans knew that, right Sam?