Sunday, January 22, 2017

The Day After the March: Some thoughts...



I do not write on here as often as I should.  When I do write, I am committed to writing more frequently, but the reality of my life is that I just don’t have enough time to do all the things I would like to do.  In fact, if I were able to follow through on every one of my ideas, you all would think I am pretty nice.  But alas….

I marched yesterday in St. Paul.  I marched as myself.  I am a bicultural/bilingual woman who looks White.  I am White.  My husband and my children are White.  I am one of the many who benefits from White privilege.  And yet, I am also not White. I am Latinx.  I feel a deep affinity with my Latinx siblings.  I have witnessed how people may treat my mother differently, and my brother and sister because they “look more Latinx” than me.  So ironic because I am the oldest.  I lived in Panama the longest.  Using my Spanish is part of my profession.  But, I am the “white one.”    Whenever I saw a sign in Spanish yesterday, I tried to capture it – many I didn’t.  When Patricia Torres Ray spoke, I was there with her chanting, “¡Sí se puede!”  Being Panamanian is also who I am.  It is in my blood.  I have my Abuelita’s eyes. 

I am a feeling person. In college on our mission to the 1993 Rose Bowl in the SS Honda Civic, my friends, dubbed me Deanna Troi, after the Star Trek empath.   I took a FB quiz recently about which Star Trek character I’d be, and guess what?  I’m still Troi.  I feel things.  Sometimes I feel them too much.  Because I feel things, I want to fix them.   As I grow older and wiser, I’m learning that most times I can’t fix things, but that being present makes them better.

I am a recovered bulimic.  This is tied in to all that feeling.  When the feelings got to be too much, I stuffed them down with food.  Then I purged them all out. I didn’t do this as a teen-age girl.  I did this as a wife and mother.   The day I went in for my evaluation to see if I, in fact, had an eating disorder, the therapist said to me, “Oh honey, it has got to be so hard to be in your head.”  Yes. It was. I thank God that when I was smart enough to get treatment, I had the insurance to pay for it.  How can someone in my shoes have gotten help without insurance?  When I think about someone’s access being taken away, I just want to yell, “Fuck!” Not pretty. But raw and real.  

I am also a Christian.  JC is my guy.  I love Him with all my heart and soul.  Tonight the closing hymn at church was, “We are Called.”  Yes, “We are called to act with justice, we are called to love tenderly, we are called to serve one another; to walk humbly with God!”   This is also who I am.

So, yesterday this beautiful mess that is me, marched. The event was beautiful. It was empowering. It was a giant caring community.  The speakers were inspiring. There were so many people walking together in love and walking for unity. And yet, I as I process the event here and world-wide, I realize that there is still so much work ahead of us, so much work.  The work of bringing those in, who felt they did not belong.

Many of the marchers were there to support Planned Parenthood.  I think PP is great.  It is place where women can go for health care.  I have used PP in my life. They are professional, caring and discreet. I am thankful for this organization.  It is a pro-choice organization.  This means that if a woman’s choice is to terminate a pregnancy, they will support her.
 I am pro-choice.  I have both personal and public reasons for this. This is not a stance I take lightly.  I have struggled with this.  Once I became a mother and felt my children move within me, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was life within me.  

And yet, I know there are women who need to make this decision for themselves.  Given some past circumstances, there have been women who have been desperate enough to take drastic measures that resulted in the horribly negative consequences.  Ending Roe vs. Wade will NOT end abortion.  There are women who for their own reasons need to make this choice. There are medical reasons that a woman might need to consider, that result in her making this choice.  Denial of this choice could end her life.  Who am I to say that I know better than she knows, about what decisions she makes for her own body, and yes, ultimately her own child.  This is her decision to make and not mine.

That said, I humbly respect my friends and family who are pro-life.  I get their stance.  This subject is not an easy one.  Women who are pro-life had just as much right to march as me.  We marched for Human Rights and if one is pro-life, one is pro-human.  So, I was deeply saddened when I read about pro-life and pro-choice women getting into it at different marches.   I feel that groups of individuals who chose to antagonize their opposition and engage in that type of rhetoric, defeat the greater goal of what we, feminists, need to stand for – unity.  Together, we are far more powerful than we are apart.  I believe, we can disagree on that topic and still work together for the benefit of those who have been born into unjust circumstances to make the world a better place for them.  

It saddens me to think that many women chose not to march or did not feel that the march represented them because of this issue.  And, I get that for many women, this is the only issue that matters.  This is their cause.  I know pro-life women have many questions of those of us that are pro-choice.  My question to those that are pro-life is : if you are pro-life, how are your actions making the world better for the humans who are already here – the unwanted babies, the crack babies, the babies born into poverty, mothers who feel they have no choice?  Work with us to make the world better for the women who default to abortion because they have no other choice.  Help us make the world a better place for those children who made it into this big bad world and need our love.  You will feel the impact of your actions making a difference in the numbers of abortions performed.  I have nothing to back me up on that, but my gut. Take it with a grain of salt.  However, eliminating Roe vs. Wade will not eliminate abortion.  

I am not naïve enough to think that there are not women out there who use abortion as birth control.  I cringe at those stories.   I have heard them, too.  But for every story that makes me cringe, there is one where I empathize and think, “thank goodness this woman had a choice.”  Do we stop caring for the sick and the poor because there are those people out there that abuse the systems put into place to care for the sick and the poor?  Yes, I know that is an entirely different can of worms, but the parallels are there.

As an aside, my friend, Heather, posted an article on FB this morning that got me thinking about our feminist Mothers, many of whom did not support abortion.  I think it is important to know this fact. I didn’t know it. Not all feminists were pro-choice.   Before we go off rattling the names of our feminist mothers, assuming they stood with us on all “21st century ideals” we need to learn about them and what they actually stood for.   

I also know that many women of color chose not to participate yesterday because they did not feel embraced by the cause of white women/white feminism.  I read one account where a Black woman was blocked from getting on the train by a White feminist in her pussyhat. The pink hatted woman was protecting her “baby,” a daughter almost equal to her in size.  I was on a train yesterday and we were packed like sardines.  We let people on until it was impossible to get on. We sang, we chanted, we rallied together.  So when I hear that someone on a different train blocked another sister from getting on, I am so angry. I’d like to give that pink pussyhatted woman a “chancletazo.”

These words are from the woman who blocked:

I have never felt free enough to touch a white woman. I am scared of white women, if I'm being honest. And for good reason. White women's tears get people who look like me killed (or best case fired). Can you imagine calling the cops and telling them you were defending yourself against a white woman? Have you seen what happened in Ft Worth when a white grown man laid his hands on a black child? Having been in the reverse of this situation, the boldest I've ever felt is to just now attempt to move when a white man/woman tries to push onto a crowded metro train. I have never in my black life, in all my burnt sienna years, extended a member of his sepia toned body to block a white person's path. I'm not that trill yet, but I hope to be someday. 

I want to give this woman a hug and cheer her on.  Let’s all get in one another’s path if we see someone using their power over another. 

This woman mentioned the White woman’s tears. I share this academic, but fascinating article on this particular power.  I highly recommend my White friends read it and consider what this means for us as individuals and for Women of Color.  What does it mean for a movement with the following belief statement:  We believe in justice, equality and human rights. We believe we are the true majority and change happens when all voices in our diverse community are heard.  We cannot be a true majority until our sisters of color feel included. We cannot be a true majority until our sisters of color know that they are a part of "we" and "us" due to our actions and not just our words. 


Along these same lines, my friend Melinda posted the following photo on her FB wall. 

                                                                                                                     (that last word is, “forget.”)

So, let’s look at our power and our privilege.  It is difficult to acknowledge, but we have it.  How do we use it? 

We, as intelligent and educated women,  must engage in very important and very difficult conversations with one another.  We must have those conversations with those that disagree with us.  We must learn that these very difficult conversations may not resolve anything right away.  But, but…they are so important.  They are the first step in acknowledging why there is a crack in our movement.  Maybe once we all feel heard by one another, we can begin the process of actually becoming one big united group of women…. women of many different colors and many different beliefs who all feel embraced.  Let us join hands to work together for the greater good of humanity.

We will surely get to our destination if we join hands. 
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Aung San Suu Kyi
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Tuesday, March 22, 2016

I'm back!

Facebook reminded me today that once upon a time I tried to blog.  What a sweet reminder I received today of a night at the movies with my Isaac.  Such sweet memories were relived as I read about my second pregnancy, the faith that got me through it, and the amazing twins that resulted.  Someday my Rufflings will read those few entries and hopefully treasure, the recorded family memories.  

I think I’m going to give this thing a go again.  Yes, I want to record the “Days of Our Lives.” However, there is more to it this time.  I’m a little bit wiser and learning to appreciate the purpose of the “rose” in my rose colored glasses all the more.  

My kids now span three different schools.  The oldest is in High School.  He just got his driver’s license.  I know. The twins are in Middle School and my youngest (not my baby, mind you, my youngest) is in second grade.  They are busy with work, study, sports, and friends - and technology.  There’s an entire series right there: bugging your child and her three friends as they sit together on the couch while  they text one another, discovering Ask.fm, trying to understand the purpose of snapchats. I could go on.   There is a lot of material here.

I work full time now.  In comparison to the part-time days, my house is now truly messy. We never pick up. When I have time to clean and get after the kids, we are all too tired.  Our Ruff House truly is rough.  The sinks are no longer white.  Instead they have developed into a lovely deep shade of ivory.  Every once in a blue moon when someone is coming over we will bleach it out.  There are laundry baskets all over the house with laundry in all stages of completion, or incompletion.  Rose colored glasses anyone?  Thank goodness that my sweet Steve has taken laundry and made it his bitch (this is Lola, you have a potty mouth - my girl’s editorial comment.  I think I’ve earned the right!).  Truly, this man does laundry like it is nobody’s business. We would all be wearing our underwear inside out if it wasn’t for him.   When my beautiful mother comes to visit she can’t stand the filth we live in and, God bless her, she cleans and cleans.  I am ever so thankful.  The few times a year we pay for that Cleaning Service Groupon and when Mami linda comes to visit are the only times our house is ever truly clean.  Some day I should take pictures to make everyone else feel better about the state of their homes. Then we can all just be kinder to ourselves when we realize that we are not alone!  

That is it.  The point of this.  Of me writing again.  We are not alone.  As a working mother, I am not alone and neither are you.  When you get that note from the teacher about not signing the reading log, know that you are not alone.  And, I’m a teacher!  Sigh.

There’s more.  There is going through treatment for an eating disorder. Oh, and discovering I “suffer” from anxiety.  Imagine that!   

I can also write about trying to find God in each day.  Some days (Ok, some months I totally forget about this goal.  Then I pick myself up and say, “Hey God, remember me?”  The beautiful part of our relationship is that he always does.  This has been my goal during Lent this season, to reconnect with God, with JC, and get back into a place where I am in relationship and listening to him, doing the work.  I’m not there yet, but I’m working on it.

Well, my girl needs the computer for her, “Academic Life.” So, I must be a good parent and provide access to instructional/learning tools.  

Keep your fingers crossed and wish me luck.  Maybe this time I can keep this thing going for more than a handful of posts.  

Monday, November 7, 2011

No home improvements at the Ruff House!

Today, after reading my all my favorite home improvement blogs, I realized that I either need to quit reading them on a daily basis or cut myself a little (ok, a lot) of slack.  My favorite bloggers are all sweet young things with 0 - 1 child.  They either blog full time, or only one half of the couple works outside the home.  Steve and I work crazy schedules, we have four kids with their own crazy schedules, and a three year whose nickname should be Destructor.  Oh, and did I mention that neither Steve nor I really have the patience for DIY.  Our home improvement projects tend to result in fights, or that the very least  - a lot of snarkiness.  After realizing all this, the thought that follwoed was something along the lines of  -  I need to start reading blogs written by parents with four kids.  Hmm - I have a blog (yes it is beyond neglected) and I have four kids.  Maybe it's time to start paying a little attention to the blog.

So, here's an example of how things work in my world.   The "carrot" that got me through the my work week was the movie date I had scheduled with Isaac for Friday night.  We were finally going to go see the last Harry Potter.   That afternoon, Steve calls to tell me Isaac is at a friend's house not at home.  I look at the pile of things I still need to do before I leave work, then look at the clock.  Picking up Isaac AND going home for dinner is not going work.  No problem, I think to myself, we'll just pick something up on the way to the theater.  Unfortunately, that stars were not in alignment for that plan was either.  What did happen was that I picked up my boy, we made it to the theater (on time, yay!) and we ended up buying theater food.  That night, I paid $6.00 for movie tickets and over $20 for the crap we ate.  Between the two of us we had a pop,  a slushee, a giant pretzel with cheese, nachos, and a bag of popcorn.  Crap, I tell you.  I went home freaking out about all the empty calories I consumed and all the unnecessary money I spent.  After my little melt down, and pseudo therapy session with Steve (Well, what would you do differently next time?)  I decided to look at it as a memory made with my son.  We never get that many treats at the movies.  He was in movie treat heaven that night.  The fact that we didn't run around like crazy people looking for decent food while trying to make it to the theater on time was a gift.  We got to sit together and talk.  I heard all about Mind Craft (a computer game he's really into) the books he's reading (Yeah, Mom, I didn't finish reading Breaking Dawn, but I did read about the honeymoon, and NO the sex part didn't make me feel uncomfortable.  Why did you think it would?) and school (Did you know that if I get As and Bs in school, I can attend a banquet at the end of 8th grade?).   I had to put on my rose colored glasses and look at the bright side, and when I did - boy was it bright and beautiful. 

I had to remind myself to put those glasses back on this weekend when I looked around my house and saw broken dishes and lampshades, piles and piles of laundry, unmade beds, the water stain on the office ceiling, the missing light fixture from when Sammy broke it by playing with balls in the house,  the new vacuum cleaner that didn't work (I fixed it by the way - yay me!) the cobwebs on the popcorn ceilings that I long to have smoothed out, I could go on.  But, with my new glasses on I saw happy children in a comfortable home, food in the fridge (wine in the wine rack!), and a handsome hubby who loves me, and whom I adore.  Life is good people. Will someone please remind me of that next time I lose it?!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Unwanted Visitors

It's summertime (although you wouldn't know it from the weather here in MN)!  It's the time to visit with friends and family.   We visit them and they visit us, right? Right.  Well, this week at the Ruff House we had some UNWANTED visitors.  They have driven me to the brink of insanity, and I want them out of my house.  Who are they, and why did I let them in?  Lice.  I didn't let them in.  They made their sweet way all on their own.  You see, first they attached themselves to Lola's long beautiful golden locks.  Then Isaac's short brown hair.  Then, they decided that Caleb's fine three year old hair was inviting.  And, yes, they decided to take up residence in my head, as well.  Have you counted?  That's four out of six Ruffs. 

Lola went camping last weekend with her BFF.  When she returned home, her dad suggested I check her for ticks.  (My head is itching just thinking about this!).  So, I dutifully start to go through her head.  I find one little tick - but it was sesame seed shaped and moved.  Hmm, I thought....that's weird.  And, I kept checking.  Found another, and another.  That's when it started to dawn on me.  I ran inside and googled "lice."  When I had confirmed the situation,  I shivered in horror and let a long string of expletives fly from my mouth.  Then, I ran off to Target.  I bought every lice killing product they had on the shelf.  At this point I'm thinking that I'll treat all of us (except Lola, obviously) preventatively. 

So, Operation Kill those &%&# Bugs, began with Lola.  She was crying as I shampooed the Rid into her scalp and it dripped into her eyes.  "Honey," I said, "Mommy will shampoo her head, too, so you don't have to go through this alone."  Such a nice and supportive mom that I am.  Little did I know.  I shampoo my head and start taking the comb through my freshly treated hair.  Is that a bug?  Not sure.  Oh my goodness, there's another one!  And, yes it's a dead louse.  Ick! 

That's when we started stripping sheets, towels, bagging pillows and stuffed animals.  At this point, it was just the girls.  The boys in the house were "clean" and Isaac wasn't home.  After Isaac's arrival the next morning - I thought I'd check him, just as a precaution.  After all he hadn't been around Lola since she'd returned from her camp out.  And, this my friends is when the descent into lice hell really began.  Isaac had nits - many nits.  These little buggers hadn't arrived with Lola after the camp out.  They'd been enjoying Ruff hospitality for several days.  They probably decided that they'd hang out with us before school was even out!

So, I checked Caleb again.  You guessed it.  Nits. On my baby's head.  I swooned with nausea.  At this point, my washing machine and dryer have been going non-stop for about 36 hours.  I'm still in the process of bagging pillows, plush toys, etc.  I've washed and rewashed sheets and towels.  And, even found dirty clothes on top of a laundry basket of clean and folded clothes.  Yeah - no comment.  I'm officially insane! 




We've slept with Vaseline on our heads.  We've discovered that baby oil helps get out the Vaseline.  That, and dish washing liquid.  We've slept with Listerine on our heads. The kids are now trained to strip their beds, put the bedding in a plastic garbage bag.  After bathing, the towels and PJ's go in the bag before it gets hauled to the laundry room.  We've vacuumed and sprayed furniture.  We've added vinegar to our wash.  We've boiled and reboiled all nit combs, hair bands, and brushes.  We've sprayed the car, and bike helmets.  Tonight, Steve will steam clean all carpets.  We are a well oiled lice killing machine here at the Ruff House!  As of this morning, all three contaminated kids were clear...knock on wood.  I still need to get checked.  But we're not done...oh no!  We'll keep this up till we hit the week mark.  Then we'll do another Rid treatment.  At two weeks, we get to unbag all our stuff and then wash and put it in a hot dryer - hello shrunk,  faded, and lice-free comforters. 



I have a friend whose daughter got lice from an airplane seat. We do have an upcoming trip.   Do you think they'll let me on the plane with an aerosol can of lice killer?  If not, I'm considering putting dry cleaner bags over the seat backs or having us all wear shower caps.  I'm serious.

Have there been any other downsides to all this?  Yes! I missed a professional conference (that I REALLY wanted to attend)  b/c I couldn't take Caleb to daycare. No play dates.  No sleep.  No fun at the beginning of summer.  Could it be worse - definitely.  This could have happened during the school year.  I would have had to plan for a substitute teacher to take over my class, so that I could get things under control (OK - the illusion of control) here at home.  Lola could not have gone camping, which means no tick checks, which means bigger lice infestation.  Steve and Sam could have gotten it (they better not get them - knock on wood).  In the end, we are all healthy, and my house is a lot cleaner.  Not a bad deal - it needed the cleaning. 

I've (re)learned to be thankful for what I've got, and to rely on my friends.  Those near and far who've gone through this ordeal have held my hand collectively.  I know that if one of you has to go through this, that I'll help you with advice - and nit picking.  I now truly understand the saying, "Going through it with a fine-toothed comb."  And, to quote our one of our favorite books (Go away Big Green Monster - http://www.amazon.com/Go-Away-Big-Green-Monster/dp/0316236535/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1308169499&sr=8-1  Go away nasty little buggies!  And don't come back, until I say so (which is NEVER)!  The rest of you, we'd love to see this summer.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Sam and Lola. Lola and Sam.





Nine years ago, I was getting ready to make my way to Methodist Hospital to meet my beautiful twins. Nine years. It feels like a lifetime. It feels like yesterday. The story of how these two made their ways into our lives and our hearts is another story of faith. Rewind about 10 years.


Isaac was about to turn two, and we had started the conversation about when to add Baby #2 to our family. My health insurance had changed, and my obgyn was not covered under the current plan. I landed with Dr. G midway through my pregnancy with Isaac. He took such great care of me, and I loved the practice so much so, that I decided Dr. G would deliver all my children.   If I couldn't have my doc, then I didn't want to continue the conversation.  Rare in this day and age to have the same doc deliver all your kids. I know.  
I was attending a Bible Study at that time where we were encouraged to think of something in our lives that seemed impossible to change. We were supposed to turn that over to God and let Him do his Godly thing with our requests. So, guess what I prayed for? I prayed for Dr. G, not really expecting anything.  Because, really, not even God can deal with an insurance mess, right? About two months later my employer went through open enrollment, and guess what?! Yes! The plan changed. Dr. G was once again covered, and for the next year, I was to have the best insurance I have had to in my life.

So, the conversation about Baby #2 resumed. We would once again try for a summer baby. You know that works great with a teacher's schedule. I was already job sharing at that time. My partner's husband was going to take sabbatical that year and they were leaving for Spain in December. My administrator agreed to let me take over full-time for the rest-of the school year, and then return to the job share, after a child care leave. I'd work full time and we'd bank that money, creating a small safety net. Well, funny how life works, isn't it.

We found out I was pregnant in early July. Add nine months to that and it's not summer. So, my full time stint fell through. The decision was made that I would continue to job share with a sub, after my partner left, and the sub would take over after I left in April. There goes the financial safety net.

So, I was pregnant and, yup, I was sicker than a dog. No, not throwing up. Nauseous. There were days I couldn't move my head because the world would spin and I'd get so dizzy.  All I wanted during those dark  moments was a bed and a dark room.  I started showing a lot earlier than I did with Isaac. Twins run in my family, so I asked a nurse at one of my early appointments about the possibility of this being a twin pregnancy. I vividly remember being told that every pregnancy is different. And, two heartbeats had not been picked up. Plus all my friends told me that pregnant women "popped" earlier the second time around. So - check, it's not twins. Ha! In hindsight no one ever checked for a second heartbeat.

I continued to get bigger and bigger. Steve and I noticed that this baby moved... a lot! It was amazing to watch how the "baby" could move from one side to the other so quickly! Little did we know.

We went to the ultrasound at 24 weeks in a blissfully ignorant state. As the ultrasound tech started the checking things out, I asked if she could tell if we had a boy or a girl. I will never forget the response. She said, "Well, we'll have to determine the gender to determine if they are identical or fraternal. " I could see the two heads and I could hear the words that had just been spoken, but none of it registered until the conversation about "two babies" continued. We walked into that ultrasound wondering if we had a Samuel or a Lola. We left knowing we had both.

I remember crying and thinking that we'd have to get the van I didn't want to drive . Steve thought he'd have to put that fence up around the yard, a project he'd been dreading. All of sudden I was listed as a "high risk" pregnancy. I was allowed to work until Christmas break and put on bed rest at 30 weeks. While I wasn't able to bank that extra money, that fabulous insurance I had paid for everything, including chiropractic care and massage. I found I had enough sick leave to cover my work until the end of the school year. On paper, though, our financial state was not good. Once we found out it was two babies, we had decided that it didn't make sense for me to go back to teaching. Yes, I was freaking out. Somebody told me that when you face a situation that is so beyond you that you don't even know where and how to begin handling it, that you should just throw it up to God and ask Him to surprise you with His solution. So, that is what we did. We didn't know what to do. We needed help.

Sam and Lola were born six minutes apart the morning of February 20th 2002. Lola Isabel was 5 lbs 5 oz. and Samuel James was 6 lbs and 11 oz. Yes, Dr. G was there as I delivered them in the Operating Room. No, I did not have a c-section. Lola was born first and whisked away so her brother could have his turn. I got to hold Sammy right away. Then I got Loli

Did we fall apart and go bankrupt. No. Well we didn't go bankrupt. I think we may have fallen apart for awhile, but I don't really remember all that much about the first year. We had angels coming to us from every direction. Friends and family from near and far took care of us. We were able to buy that van I didn't want, but grew to love. It even had two sliding doors - a big deal at that time. We also bought a bigger house. Sam and Lola celebrated their first birthday on Library Lane. How we did any of that, I don't really know. Well, what I do know is that we really didn't do any of that. God took care of us. He answered our prayers. He blessed us beyond measure with two additional amazing children, and then He took care of all of us.

Lola is our only girl. She is named after my paternal grandmother and my mother. She looks like her dad with her blond hair and her blue eyes. She's athletic, quick witted, and incredibly funny. She was right on at age three when she would say, "My smart, my fast, my funny!" She is all those things and so much more.

Samuel means "heard by God." James is also Grandpa Jerry's middle name. My Samuel is athletic, strong, and very smart. He also has one of the most generous and gentle spirits of anyone I know. He knows when to kick ass and he knows when to wrap his arms around me and tell me he loves me. Beware the girl that ever breaks his heart.

I love these two wildly... passionately. I need them. I thank God every single day for them. We chose Samuel's name right. God heard our prayer and answered it abundantly. I love you Loli. I love you Sammy. Thank you for being you, and for the privilege of being your mom.



Samuel James: then

Sammy: now




Lola Isabel: then

Loli: now







Yes, they live up to their last name!










Friday, July 30, 2010

Things My Kids Say...

Today...
My girl:  Mom, do you know anyone with manboobs? 
My youngest: (Holding a picture of his oldest brother)  Mommy, Isaac nosey boogers!

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Guess where I found my youngest today?

It has been a super busy and crazy fun week around here.  As a result, the house is a mess and there is laundry, in various stages of folding and sorting, piled all over the place.  This morning I had some time to tackle the piles in an attempt to bring order once again. 

I brought C upstairs with me so he could play either in his room or in my room.  He chose a different room.  I was deeply engrossed in my task when I realized that I could hear water splashing.  I ran to the bathroom and found C bent over the toilet with his arms in all the way.  He was laughing and obviously having a great time.  It wasn't just toilet water he was playing in, though.  Yes, you guessed it.  One of his brothers forgot to flush.  He was playing in pee!  I didn't stop to take a picture.  I grabbed the happy boy out of the toilet, stripped him and plopped him right down into the tub where he had a nice long soak. 

After the "horror" of the moment I just had to laugh.  Now, I'm laughing again and drinking a glass of wine.  C was not worried about the fact that he was playing in urine.  He just knew he was having fun.  Maybe there is a lesson in there somewhere for me.   I should quit worrying about stuff and just have more fun.  Easy enough, right?