1. Dressing room light is really unforgiving.

2. A 40 year old should not be trying on babydoll dresses.

3. My knee caps are taking on the appearance of a Shar Pei.













4. All skirts and dresses must cover my knees from this point forward.

5. Wish I hadn't ignored lotion all winter.

6. Cap sleeve shirts are not my friend.

7. My upper arms have taken on the shape of my thighs.

8. I don't think a tan will help this.

9. Can I still call this baby weight?

10. I need to leave this store and go the the gym. Stat.

11. The Old Navy Modelquins freak me out.

MOM. . . MOM. . . MOM.

As I rouse from sleep to the sound of my name being called in a LOUD whisper I glance at the clock to find that it is 1:47. AM!!

Me: What is it Spinner?

Spinner: Um, mom? I was just thinking. . . and thought you should know. . .

Me: Yes, Spinner. What's going on?

Spinner: Well, I was just thinking that we don't have any REAL breakfast food for the morning. And I just thought you should know.

Me: I'm sorry. What?

Spinner: We are out of my favorite cereal. We don't have any more bagels. There are no more Eggo's and no more pop tarts.

Me: Is this a joke?

Spinner: No, mom. What am I going to eat in the morning?

Me: Nothing if you don't go back to bed right now.

Spinner: Mooooom?!

Me: Spinner. Go to bed, I will find something for you to eat in the morning.

Spinner: Okaaay.

For the record. He had toast and fruit. Poor deprived child.



While hanging out one afternoon Spinner asked what sorts of things made me cry.

Me: Well, I cry when something makes me sad.

Spinner: Like when I disobey? That makes you sad?

Me: No, not really like that. Do you remember when Lil passed away? That made me sad.

Spinner: Oh, yeah, that was sad. What else?

Me: Sometimes when I am scared. Like when Wil had his heart surgery.

Spinner: What else?

Me: Ummm. Sometimes when I am happy or proud I cry.

Spinner: Happy tears. Like when?

Me: Like the last day of school when we came to your classroom and Mrs. Mattox showed us the video from your school year. I got a little teary thinking about how much you had grown during the year. How much you had learned in Kindergarten.

Spinner: I cried a little that day, too.

Me: Oh yeah? Why did you cry?

Spinner: I cried because I was so so happy that I was done with Kindergarten and was being TRANSFORMED into a first grader! Thinking about that really made me cry a little.

Removing one's clothing at every opportunity is number 8 on the "How to know if your toddler is part Redneck" quiz.

Tank got extra points for that one.

Check.

It's been a good seven years

since I got a good, solid, wake-up-feeling-refreshed night's sleep. Just when I think it might happen, when the boys are tucked in early and all is quiet, when I, too, am settled in at a reasonable hour and already experiencing the bliss of nocturnal goodness, something like this happens. (could i have possibly used more comma's in that last sentence? i am sure they are all misplaced, too. stop your shuttering kim)

Spinner's door opens. He has been asleep a good 4 -5 hours by now. His attempt to be quiet does not work and I wake, though, admittedly, it doesn't take much to wake me.

Bean starts screaming because Spinner woke him leaving the room.

I ignore it all in an attempt to drift back to sleep and hope they will do the same.

Then I realize that Spinner did not exit the bathroom and can see the stream of light coming down the hall. I elbow James and beg him to check on him. I'm thoughtful like that. That's when I heard the crying.

I make my way to the bathroom thinking we had another sick kid on our hands. Thankfully we did not. We just had a sleep deprived, confused, possessed, kid on our hands.

Spinner is standing in the middle of the bathroom crying and crying, head hung, face read, lips wet with drool. James tries to talk with him but is only met with blank stares.

Me: I think he's asleep, James.

James: No, he's not asleep.

Me: Spinner, what's wrong? why are you crying?

Spinner: stares blankly

James: Spinner, you have to talk to us so we know why you are crying. Are you sick?

Spinner: I don't know.

*hugs*

Me: Does something hurt?

Spinner: No.

*hugs*

Me: Did you have an accident in bed?

Spinner: No.

*hugs*

James: Did you have a nightmare?

Spinner: No.

*hugs*

Still crying. . .

Me: Can you tell me what you are feeling, Spinner?

Spinner: Sad.

Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

Me: What is making you sad?

Spinner: I feel sad when you guys send me off places.

What the heck is he talking about?

Me: Are you afraid we're going to send you somewhere?

Spinner: tears still falling, Yes.

Me: Where, Spinner, where are you afraid we will send you?

Spinner: Africa.

Oh, of course. James and I exchange a glance, trying not to laugh.

*more hugs*

Me: Oh honey, I promise we will not send you to Africa. Can we all go back to bed now?

Spinner: wiping his eyes, Okay.

And no, we have no clue what this was about. But then that's not unusual.

Wow, it's been a super swell day at the Walden house. And because I don't like my husband to miss out on all the fun, I documented the day to share with him.


This is Tank. Moments after waking. I have Spinner and Bean in the car ready to make the drop off rounds. Tank refuses to comply. With anything. He was angry I removed him from his crib, crying "cwib, cwib, cwib," as I carried him downstairs. He cried for his 'vaffle,' then rejected it the moment he laid eyes on it. I took it back, then he screamed "vaffle, vaffle." And so it went. He refused to walk to the car so I physically wrestled him into his seat in order to avoid tardy slips for his brothers.

In addition to a disdain for being in the car, Bean gets highly upset every single morning when we go straight rather than right at the four way stop outside of our neighborhood. Why? Because going straight does not take us to Papa's and he knows this. And apparently, Papa's is the only place that makes him happy these days.

Once home, Tank sets off playing. While doing so he finds an old sippy cup that went missing weeks ago. He guzzled like he'd had no liquids in a week. Then he projectile vomited the curdled milk he had unwittingly ingested, looking at me like I had betrayed him in the worst way.

Later, while comforting Bean (who would not nap today) in the den, I hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom. I call out to Tank, who is obsessed with brushing his teeth, to turn the water off and come downstairs. I turn back to Bean and moments later find Tank behind me quietly saying, "sour, sour," (shower) while pointing upstairs.

I remove his clothes and deposit him in the den, where I have turned on 'Horton Hears a Who' in an attempt to paralyze his mind so I can clean up his bathroom. He did not, in fact, turn on the shower, but used a cup to pour water from the sink all over himself and the bathroom, amounting to about 1/4 inch of water all over the floor, making its way to the carpeted hall. I used a load's worth of towels to sop it up and returned downstairs.

To find this.

Tank, who did not want his cooked 'vaffle' this morning had retrieved the waffles from the freezer and was eating them from the bag, FROZEN. And he was NAKED. Yes, he removed his diaper. Then urinated on the rug and coffee table. But he was thoughtful and pointed it out to me, saying, "yucky, yucky."

Simultaneously, I was saying "no" to Spinner's request to call friends to come over and play in the rain. This did not make him happy. He let me know.

Then he took a stool onto the front porch to watch out for kids who had nice parents that let them play outside in the rain. Pitiful.

That, was followed by this.

Big tears while discussing the need to get a prescription for eye drops. Seems he has contracted conjunctivitis.

You know what that means. Tank and Bean will be next.

The day has been documented. Not one of them appreciated my bringing out the camera in the midst of their tantrums, but hey, what are mom's for if not to laugh at their kids? Don't worry, I doled out hugs too. I also yelled a little. It was a well balanced day.

And now, weary as I feel, I am laughing and feeling thankful for my spunky, highly spirited boys.

Luke: Mom? What year was I born?

Me: 2002

Luke: Oh. What year were you born?

Me: 1969

Luke: Wwwhat?!!? You were born in the

Nine.teen. Hundreds!?

This afternoon I overheard Luke mumbling to himself, something about New York. After a few moments he called me over.

Luke: Mom, do you want to know some New York words?

Me: New York words?

Luke: Yes, they speak a different language. Didn't you know that?

Me: Well. . . (and before I could finish my thought. . .)

Luke: Do you want to hear one of their words?

Me: Sure.

Luke: Instead of saying New York they say New Yak (said in his best Northern accent).


Honestly, I don't know where he gets this stuff!