Showing posts with label my boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my boys. Show all posts

Friday, July 29, 2011

a real-life fight

two of the culprits

boy, howdy. i was in for it. last night, i experienced a real fight. like, a real face-punching, wrestling-to-the-ground and into furniture, feet-kicking fight.

it all started by play wrestling. surprise surprise. we have somewhat of a circle that connects our dining room, living room, family room, and kitchen and triston and jackson were chasing each other around and around and of course i was busy doing something domestic and sometimes i just kind of check out. when i came too, and they were running in circles, i interceded and told them we don't do that. so they took it in the family room and started wrestling around. someone got hurt and the fight was on.

usually when someone gets hurt, the afflicted comes running to me and i give them the bit "that is why we shouldn't play like that" and "if you want to wrestle you've got to be more careful", but this time no one came. all i heard was grunts and yelps and "thuds" which is making my stomach hurt as i type this.

i ran into the family room and broke it up. they were screaming about who did what and who started it and i being the wise mother that i am didn't ask for details and didn't take sides but instead reminded them that we are a loving family who doesn't fight, unless we are going after liberals, and even then violence is not the answer. ha ha, just joking (or am i?)(i totally did not say that to the kids). i made them hug, which elicited lots of complaining, but mothers know how to make their kids do it anyway (by issuing threats, of course). i came back to the kitchen to finish up cleaning and it started all over again, except the little-er one was chasing after the bigger one right up the stairs into dark territory, which doesn't happen around here because like their mother, they are afraid of the dark. but it happened anyway and i knew this was some serious shiz taking place.

i followed up the stairs and broke it up again only after seeing jackson throw a right into triston's chin and triston kick-slamming j right into the wall (aunt danielle, style). i made the guys apologize to each other and hug-it-out once more and to even throw an "i love you" in there, too. the weirdest thing about it all was that jackson had on this stupid electronic spider-man glove (just on one hand) during the whole fight, and every time he moved there was this whole array of noises like "huh!" "pow" "scat!" and the like. it was kind of surreal.

there were no tears, only breathless anger and above all: my threats of house-hold peace were being ignored. i grabbed jackson and took him to the bathroom for teeth-brushing (and a good talking to) and triston busted through the door with wild eyes, not unlike a crazed meth addict. only, he is seven and is most definitely NOT a crazy meth addict. jackson bolts off the counter and gets in some ridiculous stance and then this is where i got pissed. after throwing triston out of the bathroom and locking the door, i started yelling about how "triston is supposed to be your best friend" "who are you going to sit with on the school bus the very first day?" "he will always have your back, and here you are fighting with him" "he is your brother!" blah blah blah. although mostly very sweet, jackson has a tendency to look right though you and completely not care what you are saying. it's the second biggest reason why i got rid of the wii. anyway, i sent jackson off and yelled for triston to come into the bathroom  pretty much for me to do and say the same things to him. except i added the part about "you are older, you set the example".

triston, god bless him, he is a reason-er. he'll think about things and over think them and if he feels his very core has been wronged, will give 250 bazillion reasons why he did what he did and he just can't let it go. and that is exactly what he started doing...which ultimately lead me to offer him a candy bar of his choice if he would just go apologize and see what happens.

also like his mother, he can't resist candy bars, so he did it and the contention that was palpable just minutes before suddenly vanished and jackson, without hesitation and a simple shoulder shrug, said "me, too" and it was all over.

20 seconds later (literally 20 seconds later) they were talking about a couple of army guys triston had and jackson asked if he could borrow it. triston said, "sure, but i have two of the same and we could just play with them both - together- if you want". and then they went to bed with no further problems.

if you are like me, you are thinking "wth" only i was thinking more like "wtf", except i am a christian and don't use words like that.

honestly, i was sad to see these two fighting. and you better believe i broke out the "jesus doesn't like it" speech. if all of that failed, and they do it again, i have a really great scary "mean mommy voice" in my arsenal that i only pull out on special occasions. we'll see what happens.

but, the most important thing everyone should pick up on, though, is that peace was instilled in our home by a candy bar. a freaking candy bar was all it took. the power of chocolate is quite persuasive and i'm thinking all the president needs to do for a bi-partisan vote on this debt debacle up on capitol hill is start passing around the chocolate. dark for me, please. seriously...contention vanished just. like. that.

let's pray for peace....all around.

PS my baby has two little "toofers" trying to pop through and last time i checked he is just 3 months old. what is going on, here?

PPS did you know that e.t. still scares the crap out of little kids? it does. and elliott also says "penis-breath" to his brother and my kids thought it was hilarious. awesome.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

maybe just a glimpse..

...of what these little boys will look like as old men. (i hope not)

(that bryce is the funniest of all)

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

A Bubbly Time.

I've tried to keep a schedule for the kids this summer. A schedule for the kids = pretty much no time left over, but they are happier, which makes me happier so it works out. Except for the 4 huge books sitting on my desk that I am pining to read. Luckily the library keeps letting me renew them. 


Anyway, during the "craft time" hour of our schedule I've tried to come up with things boys like to do. Because hello! Not one of my boys like to make paper-towel butterflies or tissue-paper fourth of July wreaths like I thought they would.

So one day we made homemade bubble solution, which is both messy and glorious for a house full of the male kind. We fashioned wands out of pipe cleaners and started dipping.

I can't for the life of me find the link to the blog post we originally saw the recipe on. But a quick google search will get you where you need to go. Apparently there are hundreds of cool moms out there that have all sorts of original ideas (I am not one of them). FYI: We used a recipe that called for karo syrup.

Anyone else excited to celebrate our nation's birthday coming up?!

Oh. Man.

It's my favorite holiday. I love teaching our boys about the valiant efforts of our forefathers and all the soldiers that fought for our Independence. Hopefully, they'll grow to love our nation as much as I do.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

a spectacle, of sorts.

sometimes, with these four, I feel we are a spectacle. take this morning, for example. triston, the oldest, has basketball camp for an hour and a half each morning this week. after piling everyone in the car and taking off, i realized i had forgotten a bottle for the baby. i dropped t off and came back home to get the bottle and drove back to the school to watch the rest of practice in the high school gym. when we walked in my eyes scanned the gym to find triston sitting on the sidelines NOT PLAYING. so i sat the baby carrier down and started to walk over to him. while i am doing this, jackson takes off one way and bryce the other. the baby starts to cry so i hurry back over to him and triston is grabbing his stuff and saying, "let's go" which signals to me he is not happy about something. he is the particular one, after all. the coach comes over to talk with us and out of the corner of my eye i can see bryce doing a balancing act on the thin ledge that separates the bleachers from the floor. i can hear j in the distance saying, "mom! look at me!" he's at the very top of the gym. and the baby is still fussing. needless to say, all i heard the coach say was "wah wah wah wah wah wah wah", charlie brown style.

there are a couple of moms in the gym giving me the "i feel sorry for you" look and there are, of course, the women out there that probably have the "...she got herself in to this..." mentality (to which i believe are jealous of our little life...even if they don't know it yet) and a couple of other moms in the gym looking at me with the "i know, girl..." look, probably reminiscing about when they were in my position. what? did i just say reminiscing? yeah, i did. because even though these times can be tough, i've gotten the very clear impression to savor these moments.

after resolving the situation with t, i climb the stairs, baby carrier in hand to where jackson and bryce are sitting. when i arrive, they bolt, which i knew was coming by the smirks on their sweet little faces. i, of course, act like i didn't even see them which results in them coming right over within reach so i can lecture/tease them about the importance of staying close to mom.

"i need help with the baby," is all i need to say and that usually keeps them close so they can leap at his beckoning whimper. (it's good to be fourth in line at our house) (until you are old enough to go for someone's toy...then it's not so good anymore). and then we're done. practice is over, so me and the brood head into the pouring rain to our car to head home. (I did leave the part out about having to restrain b on my lap for a time while he kicked and screamed. that is always awesome.)

there's no great way to end this post except for the clear message of - this is hard. it is. but, more than it is hard, it is completely wonderful, absolutely hilarious, and such a blessing to have these four little boys completely saturate my days with complete joy. one day, instead of just the little daily nibbles that freckle my life as a mother, I am going to see the fruits of my labor in full perspective.

whether we are a spectacle, right now, or not. :)

Sunday, April 17, 2011

My Little Guys: Weekend Edition.

This guy told me over the weekend that his best friend at school isn't his best friend anymore because he punched and kicked him at lunch last week. Whhhhhaaattt?
The compassionate parent in me wanted to tell him to just stay away from him and to make sure to tell a teacher if someone does something that isn't nice. The mama bear parent in me wanted to tell him to take care of business if someone is bullying.
And the rational parent in me totally realized that Triston may have had something to do with it AND he is freakishly strong and throws a mean punch and maybe option number 2 isn't such a good idea AND kids are kids and boys are boys and next week will probably be best buddies again with his ex-best friend. I went with rational parent.
He beat my high score on Bop-It this weekend, too, and made 4 goals at his soccer game on Saturday.

This one just became so rotten I don't even know what to do with him anymore. He started stomping his foot at me when I tell him "No". He started throwing himself on the floor when I tell him he can't have whatever he wants {which is usually a toy someone else has}. Suddenly, he won't stay in time-out anymore. I will sit him in time-out and turn around to set the timer and turn back around and he has bolted. For a huge pregnant lady, this is a problem. And sometimes he hides when he runs away and I can't find him. So, I've turned to lures and when he finally comes out of his hiding place, I snatch him up and physically hold him in time-out until the timer goes off. While he is screaming, of course. This has been going on for a couple of weeks, but it culminated this weekend. He might sense change coming or he might just be 3 and needs a few more whippins. Plus, he just got a buzz cut and looks like a little heathen child. Doesn't help his cause any.

And Dirty J, as we like to call him, did just fine over the weekend but he is dirty all the time and I am tired to cleaning him. The kid gets filthy in whatever he does. Play-doh? In his hair and everywhere on the floor. Painting? All over his clothes and the table and usually the walls. Eating? All the food somehow gets pushed off the side and all around his plate and off on to the floor. Outside? Don't even go there. Dirtiest one at his soccer game every single time. But he is happy and healthy and creative and I think that's just his outlet. He told us he didn't fall asleep AT ALL Friday OR Saturday night and makes up stories that make me laugh and laugh.

And the littlest guy has sent me to triage twice in the last two weeks. The first time with some crazy pain in my side that made it difficult to do anything but cry and the second time with strong 4 minute contractions. My doc chalked both of these up to a bladder infection, gave me antibiotics, and set me up to be induced. How do you have a bladder infection and not know about it is what I want to know. I had no symptoms.
And then on Saturday, I got all retarded and decided to play basketball with the boys. All the running, jumping, and shooting made me want to die later, but we had fun while we were doing it.

And now, we're ready for the week. For sure.

PS. That little pink circle over there ------> is a "vote for me" button. If that's your thing, to vote for people you know, hit me up. I submitted my blog to be a top 25 stylish mom blog, which is just hilarious, but I'm losing it and baby #4 might send me over the edge and then I'll never get it back. If you have any pity for this kind of thing, help a sister out. You'll have to scroll down to find me...

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Kids are funny.

Our family, as drawn by 5-year-old Jackson. Guess which one is me.

And of course, Triston makes my day (because I made his by letting him stay home from school without a fever) by saying, "Mom, even though your belly is getting pretty fat you are still really cute. A cute fat lady," he says. And little Brycer, with O.J. dripping off his chin and eyes opened w i d e nods in agreement, with such excitement I might add, and suddenly I can't wait for another one of these guys to be around. Not because of the compliments, and certainly not that I wasn't excited before, but because they are really truly hilarious. And bonus! they will rub my back when I ask them to.

Case-in-point: Triston tells me about how he isn't friends with so-and-so anymore at school because he picks up eggs with his hands and shovels them into his mouth while exclaiming, "I just can't resist!" AND he farts all the time. Even though I gave him the spiel about being nice anyway, I was really thinking, "Man, if this kid was an adult, I wouldn't be friends with him either". You just can't make this stuff up.

Plus, the boys said I make the best pasta in the world tonight after dinner. Redemption. They catch on quick. For it was just a mere 24 hours since they told their Nana that she was a much better cook than me.

Whhhaaaat?! But, I'm pretty sure their dad thinks that, too though, so at least they get it honest, right?

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Number 3 is 3.

Little Brycers is 3. Wowza. For his birthday, I told him the story of when he was born.
It was on November 30, 2007. I was scheduled for an induction at the ghetto hospital in Jacksonville that I can't even remember the name of now, but it was off Beach Blvd. and we lived off of San Jose Ave. and I remember thinking that it was a tad too far for my comfort if #3 decided to come by himself in mid-day traffic.

Luckily, that didn't happen. But he did throw me into labor on the scheduled day before I got to the hospital, which forced me to throw all my plans to the wind. I, being the seasoned laborer, remembered the horrific pictures of myself after my babies had been born. This time, I allotted a little time for me to take a shower, curl my hair (even though it was going to be up, at least my ponytail would be bouncy and cute), and maybe even dab on a little concealer and blush. But when I got in the shower, the contractions had me doubled over and were coming quick. I needed to get to the hospital before the window of epidural time closed. Know what I mean?

So I roused Travis by yelling at him and we flew out the door. There were more stop lights than I remembered and I demanded Travis start driving through the red ones. There was very little traffic at 5 in the morning, but he argued with me anyway. I wasn't amused.

We got to the hospital and I started throwing up. The poor nurse who was trying to get me to sign the papers looked kind of stunned when I looked at her blankly and said, "Where's the epidural release form? That's the only one I want to sign right now."

But I got it and everything was smooth sailing from there. 45 minutes later I started pushing and just after the 4th one, out popped a little black haired gem.

But all that black hair fell out and just a few months later he was a blondie, which should have been my first clue he would become a stinker just like his little blonde brothers. The kids do not have my genes.

And now he is 3 years old and is in love with Scooby-Doo. He thinks he is Spider-Man most of the time. He is picky and sneaky and completely adorable. He sometimes pees in his pants just a little and then tells me it is "Okay because it will dry," like it's no big deal. He loves riding his bike and being outside and will usually take a nap and eat his green beans without a fight because he says "it's good for me". He will run away from me if given the opportunity every. single. time. so he has to wear a monkey leash to town and it is the funniest thing you'll ever see...or he'll sit on the floor and refuse to move, then it's the worst thing you'll ever see. You never know which one is coming at any given time.

Happy Birthday little Brycers.  

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