Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trouble. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

No, Max!

Ok, friends, do you know this book? You should.


It's one of our favorites, and has been for a long time.  Poor little David is always getting into trouble.  We read the books with the girls and found them both cute and charming.

Except now, we have our own little David.  His name is Max. His antics as of late are neither cute, nor charming. We no longer read these books to Max for fear of giving him ideas.

Here are some of the latest gems.  And I swear to you, all of these have come out of my real, live situations that have actually happened in the last few days. My only regret is that we don't have the hilarious illustrations to go with them.

No, Max. You may not strangle your brother with the vacuum cord.

No, Max. You may not strangle yourself with the string from your balloon either.

No, Max.  You may not run behind the Panda Express counter to use their phone.

No, Max.  We do not bite other people's toes.

No, Max. You may not empty out all the ice and water out of the soda cooler with your cup.

No, Max. You certainly may not spit your drink out in the soda cooler.

No, Max!  You absolutely may not put your whole head in the soda cooler and drink the water!

and for the win....


No, Max!  You may not strip all your clothes and diaper off while you're in the backyard and Mom is nursing the baby so that you can play in the puddled rainwater left in the upside down swimming pool stark naked!  (Do you see the discarded diaper in the background? Priceless.)

Now if I only knew the phone number for David Shannon's editor...



 

Monday, July 11, 2011

Who's raising these kids anyway?

The good news: My girls, as well as my Mother in Law and Father in Law, are all still alive and enjoying each other.

The bad news: We're missing them.  Especially Max, who walks around daily calling "Abby!  Where are you?  Ashlynn!  Where are you?"  He misses his entertainment committee.  So do I, because frankly, you can only get climbed on by the two year for so long before it stops getting cute and starts getting really obnoxious.

The embarassing news: We were checking in with Grandma a few days ago and she told us: "Well, I just thought I should tell you that right after we got in the car and were starting to leave Grand Junction, almost the first words out of Ashlynn's mouth were 'Grandma, what's a c_ndom?'  I told her that was a discussion that she needed to have with her parents, but I just wanted you to know that she might be asking."

Nice job, Ashlynn.  Way to make us look like good, open minded, concerned parents who protect their children from all evil influences.

Well, now I know what we're going to be talking about when they get back... 

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Our newest addition

And no, before you ask, I did not get a positive pregnancy test.  (Can you imagine?  Never mind.  Let's not imagine.  Too scary.  I'm going to have nightmares from merely writing the words "positive pregnancy test.")

So now that I've built up the suspense, I present to you the newest addition to our household:
Yes, ladies and gents, it's a clothes dryer.  What's so exciting about a clothes dryer you ask?

Well.  Let me tell you.

It all started Saturday night when my husband was frantically trying to pack for his trip to Singapore.  Much laundry ensued.  I went downstairs to switch the laundry like a good wife and found the load of whites was still wet.  Since I'm a little bit disorganized, scatterbrained, busy, I thought I had maybe forgotten to turn the dryer on. 

Nope.

Two complete drying cycles later, the load of underwear was still dripping wet. 

Wonderful.

Let it be known that at this point, I told my husband he should probably just take the items he needed out of the dryer, drape them all over the house, and let them dry overnight.  He insisted that one more cycle in the dryer would do it.  I have to admit I laughed a little bit when he had to pack his underwear in the suitcase still wet, hoping to find a washer/drier combo in his hotel.

So not only was I without a dryer, I was without a husband.  And without many clean clothes.  And since letting your kids run around naked is considered bad form when it's what feels like 12 degrees below outside, I had to find a dryer.  And fast.

So I did what every good daughter does.  I called my dad.  And begged.

And my sweet father spent most of the day today buying a dryer for me (since he actually lives in civilization!), hauling it up to me in the middle of a huge snowstorm, unloading it, installing it, and loading the other one out. 

It works brilliantly.  Clothes are dry.  And we solved the great "where do the missing socks end up?" mystery.  Because when we pulled the old dryer out we found enough socks to fill an entire sock drawer and enough washcloths and dishcloths to stock up a newlywed.  I was going to take a picture of our findings, then decided that even I wasn't up for being that humiliated.  It was bad, I tell you.

I am celebrating being excited about doing laundry.  And i"m marking the occasion, because that excited feeling is only going to last for approximately one more load. 

And hey, if a broken dryer is the worst crisis I face this week, then I'm not going to complain. 

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Pray for me...

A year or so ago, my husband took his first international trip, to Ireland.  He flew for a ridiculous amount of hours, got off the plane, took a shower, then had a full day of meetings.  Just as he crawled into bed and fell into the sleep of the dead, he was awoken by a panicked call from me, telling him that Max was choking on a random object, was in the ER, and was about to be transported via ambulance to another ER where he would most likely require surgery.   Luckily, Max didn't require surgery, and we were released that night only slightly worse for the wear.

His second trip was to Germany, and he managed to be there a few days before he received another panicked call from me telling him that Abby had gotten in a horrific bike accident and ended up with stitches in her chin and scrapes and bruises all over her body.  He started laughing at the timing of it all and I nearly hung up on him.

He was supposed to go to Hong Kong at the end of October, when I was 35 weeks pregnant.  His boss forever endeared herself to me when she told him that there was no way in you-know-where that he was getting on a plane with a wife who was 35 weeks pregnant and was threatening pre-term labor.  To this day, I believe that had he gone on that trip, I would have gone into labor the minute the plane took off.

This morning my husband left for his third international trip.  8 days in Singapore.  I think I'm going to head upstairs, wrap all four kids in bubble wrap, lock them in their rooms, and then lock all the doors. 


I'm only halfway joking.

Friday, May 28, 2010

When the husband's away...

A child is guaranteed to end up in the hospital.

Last time Tom went to Europe, Max visited three hospitals, two ER's, with a bonus ride in an ambulance.

I joked with Tom that he needed to have a stern talk with Max about staying out of the hospital while Dad is out of the country.

Turns out, it wasn't Max I needed to worry about.

Abby was riding her bike down a hill at Capitol Reef National Park today, got out of control, and took the nastiest spill I've ever seen.  I was behind her in the car, and my heart stopped.   Its one of those terrible images that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

She was covered in blood, screaming and going quickly into shock.  We piled her into the van and drove to the Visitor's Center, and they directed us to the clinic in Bicknell, about 20 miles away.

Five stitches in her chin,  a wicked case of road rash on her chest, a wrapped elbow, a wrapped knee, too many band-aids and bruises to count, and $330 dollars later, ("No, our policy is to have the patient pay up front and then we'll reimburse you when and if your insurance pays."  Like I said a few posts back, its a good thing that our money tree in the backyard is starting to bloom...) Abby is back at the cabin, limping around recovering.

It will probably take me much longer. 

And my husband is no longer allowed to go to Europe on business.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The one time utter chaos manages to pay off

A week ago, my husband got news that he was headed to Germany this week for work.  Unfortunately, it also meant that due to an acute lack of child care, that I wasn't going to be able to attend the Casual Blogger's Conference this weekend.  After a suitable period of mourning, I decided that rather than spend all week staring at the walls and going stir-crazy alone with my three wild children, that I would pack them all up in the van and head down to my parents' cabin in Torrey.  Better scenery, two extra adults to help corral the crazies, and a change of pace would be good ideas all the way around.

While I was nervous about the drive alone with them, everything went relatively well, until we hit the tiny town of Bicknell, UT, about 5 or so miles from Torrey.  Max, who had adamently refused to nap the whole trip, decided that he was done.  Done with the carseat, done with our feeble attempts to entertain him, done.  And then he commenced the shrieking. 

Then Ashlynn decided she was done listening to Max scream, and decided to start screaming at Max to stop screaming.  As you can imagine, this was incredibly effective.   Then Abby started yelling at them both.  More effectiveness.  I started chanting "Five more minutes, five more minutes," in my head.

Then I looked up to see red and blue flashing lights in my rearview mirror.

After uttering a minor four-letter word, calmly and cooly pulling over, the very nice Wayne County Sherriff approached my window.  I very honestly had no idea what I had done, but guessed that I probably hadn't been watching my speed. 

Sure enough, the very nice officer had clocked me going 11 over in the middle of Bicknell, and then trailed me for a few miles.  *gulp*  I was obviously paying very close attention to my driving!

Lucky for me, this is the one and only instance where the Armaggedon going on in my van actually worked to my benefit.  I explained to the officer that I was a little distracted by the screaming which Max was so generously still demonstrating.  Ashlynn, who has a terrible fear of police officers, had stopped yelling and was cowering in the backseat.

The officer chuckled when I told him about my two screamers, and then took a look and said, "And you have one on the way, you must be a glutton for punishment. You probably are just anxious to get there and get out of the car,"  I laughed at that, agreeing whole-heartedly, despite being slightly horrified that at 12 weeks pregnant, I'm showing enough for a perfect stranger to comment on it! 

He took a look at my driver's liscense for a second, then handed it back to me, and said "Just make sure you watch your speed from here on out."   I was a little surprised that he didn't even run my liscense, then realized he probably went home to tell his wife about the crazy lady in the red minivan with the screaming kids that he pulled over.  For once, I was glad to have someone feel sorry for me.

I'm proud to report that I didn't go a single mile over the speed limit all the way to Torrey. 

And now, for some gratuitous cute Torrey pictures.

This is the first trip we've had where Max hasn't been incredibly scared of the four-wheelers.

I even took him for a little 5 mph ride around the property.  Don't judge.  He loved it.  And this is Wayne county, where not teaching your child to ride a four-wheeler is considered child abuse.
Falling in the giant mud puddle was not so much fun, however.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Reasons #47-49 Why Toddler Boys Are Trouble

See that face?  Doesn't he look all sweet and innocent?  Well, don't let it fool you.  It's all an act, I tell you!  A cruel act!


Reason #47: I am taking my morning shower, and Max is hanging out with me in the bathroom.  The theory is that if I keep him contained while I'm showering, the chances of major damage to him or the house will be lessened.  Really it just means he has to concentrate his evil powers of destruction to only one room of the house which leads to a more intense mess confined to a smaller area. When I shut off the shower and peek out at him, I realize exactly why it was I had such a peaceful shower.  He has chosen this particular shower to learn how to lift the toilet seat all by himself.  He had then proceeded to find a cup and was bailing water cup by cup onto the bathroom floor, all the while sqealing in delight.

Reason #48:  After the grand toilet water incident, there was nothing for me to do but to put him in the bath.  I pull roughly half the bath towels  we own out of the closet to try to contain the mess, and run the bath water.  He is in the bath for roughly 37 seconds before I see his face turn bright red and hear the tell-tale grunting.  In the split-second it takes me cross our bathroom, Max has filled the bathtub with poop.  Sigh.  If I could only get him to poop in the toilet and play in the bathtub, I'd be set!

Reason #49:  Toilet+iphone.  They don't mix.  Just in case you were curious. 

Just noticed that all three of these had something to do with toilets.  Maybe I should invest in some toilet locks.  And some more interesting blogging material. It would probably be cheaper (not to mention more interesting!) than investing in new iphones...
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