The Gluten Monster

Yesterday was one of those days. In the whole scheme of things I guess it wasn't too bad, but it was still one of those days.

M was in his Destructo Baby mode, but the funny thing is that he doesn't realize he's destroying everything. He thinks he's helping. He thought he'd help me by cleaning my bathroom while I was getting the Bigs started on their schoolwork. Granted, the bathroom could use a good cleaning but his disinfectant of choice happened to be a new tube of toothpaste opened just 11 hours earlier. He ran past me toward his room as I was helping N with his vocabulary words and I caught a whiff of toothpaste. I knew immediately where to go since he was with me when I opened the tube 11 hours earlier.

I guess he heard the panic in my voice as I headed to the back of the house and he followed, albeit at a good distance. I find an empty tube of toothpaste on the blue sparkly counter. The counter sits atop blue sparkly cabinets, in front of which are blue sparkly floor tiles. Nearby are a blue sparkly toilet, a blue sparkly shower, and a blue sparkly bathtub. Honestly I don't know how he had enough time to do it all. I'm beginning to think he has a twin but my family didn't want to send me over the edge so I only see one at a time.

He's hiding in the doorway, with his arms and legs a very unnatural blue sparkly color. UGH! As I evaluate the best way to tackle this cleanup I notice sitting very inconspicuously in the midst of it all is the toilet brush. Double Ugh! I see a subtle swirly pattern in the toothpaste layer on pretty much everything. I ask anyway, though I already know the answer.

"Mommy, I wanted to help you clean the bathroom. I scrubbed it in for you. Are you happy?"

Heck no, I'm not at all happy. He knew it before he asked, but I didn't say anything. I changed my thoughts on cleaning up from one of wiping to one of hot water and bleach. Really hot water. Lots of bleach. I started with cleaning him up, sans bleach. Then sent him off to play. Big Mistake.

A new school year = new school supplies, which include Elmer's school glue. M always calls it gluten since we, for obvious reasons, don't let him have any of it, either. While I'm cleaning and the Bigs are doing their schoolwork, he's quietly painting himself with school glue. I turn around to get more cleaning cloths and see him walking stiff-legged with arms outstretched moaning in typical monster fashion. "I'm the Gluten Monster and I'm after youuuuuu!"

The thin coat of glue has now dried and it's peeling off of his arms, legs, face, and hair. What a sight! J and N clean up the glue he's spread around and I finish the bathroom. We sat him at his kid table to color with strict instructions about not getting up.

Sitting there, he manages to take a scribbled on coloring sheet and stick it to the wall next to his chair. "Look Mommy, I made a sign for you. What does it say?"

It clearly says for me not to have any more kids.

When I Wanted to be a Cartoon Character

Yesterday was B-day for N. He got his braces and palatal expander put on. He was so nervous, anxious, jumpy, and apprehensive. Me? I was downright terrified. Afraid they'd hurt my little man, you ask? Not so much. Afraid my little man would have a big man sized meltdown is more accurate, but yet still understates the emotion of the moment.

If you know him, you know he has a tendency to whine. If you don't know him, here's the deal. He whines. A lot. About everything. All the time. He's a complainer too. I love him dearly, but he has the ability to send the strongest among the population on a quest for mind-altering substances.

Needless to say I was terrified of the journey on which we were embarking. Braces hurt, expanders hurt, and the process to have them put on can be long and tedious if you don't work with the orthodontist and stay still. Did I mention he's ADD too? Sitting still for an hour and a half is asking way too much. Heck, sitting still for a spelling test is asking for too much most of the time! I was dreading this day, and even contemplated waiting a few more years. After talking with the doctor we made the decision to go ahead though, since time was working against us as his bones become stronger and less movable.

So there I sat in the waiting area, sweating it out and thinking of the strange thing I just did. I just wrote a check for a small fortune, which buys N almost two years worth of whine. Parents do very illogical things at times.

They call us to the back. The nurse tells me it will take an hour and a half, and if I have any errands to run or anywhere I need to go I can come back and get him. Uh-oh. Do you know how, in cartoons, a character will lift one leg, you hear a PEOWNNNNnnnn sound, then see some squiggly lines and a bunch of dust where the character once was? I thought for a fleeting moment I could be a cartoon character.

Then I feel a tiny, gentle hand on my arm and I knew without a doubt I could never go PEOWNNNNnnnn and leave him. He's eight now, but he's still my baby and always will be. I'd no more leave him alone in that situation than I'd eat mushrooms. (I know for a fact I'd rather eat mushrooms than leave him there. I'd swallow them whole and hold my nose if it came down to such a choice, but I'd still ingest them!)

Off we go and to my total and complete surprise he never complained or whined. He sat as still as he could, though the doctor laughed and told me he's a wiggly one. "Oh really?" I asked. I looked so surprised. "I guess he must be a little nervous."

I'm so proud of my little man, who sat there and stared the next two years of braces in the face and said, in his own way, to bring it on! Then he came home and whined until I let him play Wii.



He's getting a good look at the new expander. Such a strange contraption!

Time to glue in the expander and prepare for the brackets on the teeth.

This ain't our first rodeo. We did the same dance two years ago with J. This doctor knows his stuff and J's teeth look fabulous!

Sorry Bud, the pout is cute but will not get you anywhere.

The final result! He wanted blue bands around his brackets since blue is his favorite color. He's not going to get the wires for a bit because we'll be expanding his palate so rapidly. The wires would be bound too quickly or we'd have to change them too often to accomplish anything. He'll get the wires soon when we slow down the expansion rate. It's so complicated!

I'm so proud of him. So far so good with the whining. A little whining and a little Advil goes a long way. I'm proud of me too. I made it through my terror with only the minimal of mind-altering substances...I added extra shots of espresso and chocolate to my morning mocha. It did the trick!

Book Day!!

I love the UPS Man. He brings me such wonderful things. And somehow he knows exactly what I want.

Yesterday and today the UPS Man is the Book Man. He's bringing our new school books. I usually order way before now, but this year I'm being a little more conscientious of the fact that I don't need to buy their stuff three or four years in advance. I'm realizing it just doesn't take that long to make lesson plans. However, it does seem to take that long to find science experiment supplies.

So we've been unpacking and sorting through boxes and the punks are so very excited. I hear you laughing. Seriously, they are. They abandoned the unloading and putting away of groceries because they were so anxious to open the boxes. They even decided it was more important to sort by subject and grade rather than clean their bathroom and vacuum their rooms. I'm glad they're so into school this year. I guess you still don't believe me, though.

He Snow Angel

The title makes no sense unless you say it faster. I'll explain why but first I often wonder if the title of my blog should be something like "The Mischievous Antics of the Babiest" or "Earning the Grays--One by One." I don't think people really believe me when I tell them stories of M. I've decided to take pictures. I can use them to blackmail him one day when he's getting married. You better pick me out a really nice nursing home or I will show her what her kids will be like.

This is what happens when I iron clothes. I found him stomping in the baby powder. When I return with the vacuum I find him making snow angles. I guess southern kids need to improvise snow scenes.





I now realize the best way to avoid this in the future is to stop ironing. I think I'll probably have to put the powder out of reach instead, but the first plan sounds like the best one to me!!