Life at Lothlorien

There are good things to every thing a child learns, but there are also bad things. This is what I found on my shopping list today. "CC," I asked. "Did you write chocolate on my list?" "Yes," she replied. "I couldn't find any chocolate that I liked, so I want you to buy some at the store." "And how did you learn to spell chocolate?" "Oh, I just looked on my brother's paper." (He had been surveying us and graphing our favorite ice cream flavors. He is disappointed that more people don't like strawberry ice cream. Note his contribution to the list.) So, if you think it's a good think to teach children to write, just remember that it also enables them to add things to your grocery list.

B came running out. "CC swallowed a bouncy ball!" I checked on her and she seemed fine -- no choking. She was only a little remorseful (I think mostly at being caught doing something she knew she shouldn't. So, we decided to give her Ipecac and make her throw it up. We figured if we waited, we were looking at an ER trip, bowel obstruction, etc. Besides, throwing up is a good negative consequence for putting something in your mouth that you shouldn't. Of course, after we administered the Ipecac, we got more details. It was a ball that she had bitten in half a week earlier and she only swallowed about 1/4 of it. I had thrown away half, and other bits and pieces were in the floor in the bedroom. No cause for panic now, but still thinking that throwing up is a good consequence for her. She took the Ipecac and randomly would say that her stomach didn't feel good, but nothing happened. We got everyone ready for bed, read stories, etc. and were giving hugs and kisses goo

CC's birthday was recently and it became apparent that she was well aware of her special status. One evening, B came running in, all distressed. "CC says if I don't let her pick what to watch on TV first in the morning, she's going to give all my stuff to Goodwill. Can she do that?" I can't believe he thought she might be able to follow through on that one.

Cece's question for the day: Mom, when you die, you go to heaven. If you die in heaven, do you come back as a baby?

My DH was checking on B, who was out of bed using the bathroom. B was acting a bit surly. "Is there something you're upset about?" queried Dad. "I'm mad at my sister." "Why?" "Because she came into my room, squirted water from my squirt gun on the floor, and then drank the rest out of the squirt gun. And I was saving that to be ready for tomorrow." "Go to bed." Dad then walks into CC's room. She turns away from him. He asks her if she was in her brother's room. She doesn't want to talk, and Dad realizes it's because she has something in her mouth. He takes her into the bathroom to spit out the gum she is apparently chewing and speaks very strongly to her about NEVER, EVER chewing gum in bed. Then, my DH comes to tell me the story. "BTW, he says, is CC allowed to chew gum?" "She has a few times," I replied, "but not lately because she just swallows it." "Well she was chewing it i

I finished reading CC's bedtime stories and we went to join B and Dad. B gave me a look and pointed to the sign on his door. It had my name with a big circle around it and a slash through it. I was banned from his room because I had taken some of his toys away (he hadn't cleaned up before the timer went off). I was a bit hurt by the ban, but I'm trying to see it as a positive way of him expressing his anger. It was a lot funnier when he put up a similar sign banning his father a few days earlier.

Creativity abounds in my family . . . So far this summer, the children have made their own pond in the backyard, put an empty gift wrap tube in a bookcase to make a tank (for the monsters in the closet), snuck up on me as sharks in the swimming pool, and used tube pasta as finger extensions. Speaking of the tube pasta, CC also found it makes a great horn. When it broke, she flattened it out and told me it would make a good yoga mat for her Little Pet Shop puppies. I hope they always have that ability to see things as more than what they appear.

Never, ever, ever utter the phrase "Bundt cake" in front of two small children. It will ensue at least 15 minutes of hilarity in the back seat, then random giggles for days and days later as you hear from another room "butt cake! butt cake!"

I found a piece of paper with a 1-800 number written in my 7-year old's handwriting. "What is this for?" I asked. "That's because it's not available in stores," he started. "No, I mean what THING is it for?" "Oh, the pancake puff maker. But I am missing one of the numbers, so I have to watch and try to finish it." I think we need to go back to DVDs and stop watching commercial television. In the long run, it would probably be cheaper.

I went to get an Oreo the other day. We have the new easy open/easy seal package. All I found it the package was cookies. No cream filling, just the cookie part of the Oreos. I'm betting on the local chocoholic, CC, although she tries to smile and look innocent when I explain that you MUST eat the entire Oreo, not just the middle.

B has learned how to tie water balloons. Heaven help us now.

I have always loved polka dots and got to show my creativity lately by repainting the kids' bathroom. My DH said I had to wait until after the new floors were done, then was surprised to come home and find the wallpaper ripped off only 2 days after the floor guys left. (Does he not know me at all?) I forgot to take "before" pictures, but that's okay. The bathroom wasn't hideous or anything, it was pink floral -- not a kids' bathroom and not to my taste. Plus, it was painted over wallpaper and the seams bothered me. Now, I think it is just right. Besides, it matches the SpongeBob toilet seat much better.

This past weekend was my 20-year high school reunion. How is it that the 1st 18 years of my life went by so much slower than the last 20 years? Most people looked pretty much the same -- just a little rounder, a little more settled, a little more confident (or in my case, a lot more confident). The organizers did a great job. The big surprise was having the fire truck show up for our group picture. One of the things we always did at my high school was take a senior class group picture with the fire truck, so it was a really fun trip down memory lane. Thing is, getting up on that fire truck was a lot harder and a lot scarier than 20 years ago.

The kids are at G'ma & G'pa's for a week and I am still trying to adjust. It's been weird not having to be home at a certain time, not worrying about meals, and just doing whatever I want. Unfortunately, what I want seems to be very random. When they were littler, sending them off for a week meant I got to take a bath, go grocery shopping, and read a book. Now, they are pretty good with that kind of stuff, so I really have to concentrate and ask myself what I don't do because it's too hard with the kids. So, the first day I spent 3 hours in the bookstore just browsing and wandering. I only wandered into the children's section once, caught myself, and skedaddled out of there. Today I'm going shopping for a bathing suit -- with no one playing hide and seek under the clothes racks. I also realized this was a good time to seal the grout in our new tile floors -- easy to avoid foot traffic while the sealer dries. Yesterday I did the laundry room as a test

This is a story from my DH. B came running out of the house yelling "CC bit me!" Dad: "Well, does it hurt?" B: "Sort of." Dad: "That means it really doesn't hurt, does it?" Then CC arrives. Dad: "CC, did you bite your brother?" CC: "Yes. He said he was a Pop-Tart and to take a bite, so I did." Just a reminder to get the rest of the story before taking any action.

I am becoming so spoiled. Tonight, I was really tired and didn't feel like making anything for dinner. (We had guests all weekend and I was cleaning up and recouping.) B came and told me he was hungry, so I said we would go to McDonald's as soon as Daddy got home. He thought for a minute and said, "Mom, I can make dinner." And sure enough, he did. He made cheese pizzas with in the toaster oven. He split the English muffins, added pizza sauce, grated the mozzarella, and toasted everything. All I did was set out some fruit to go with it. He even made mine first because, he said, "Ladies first." And then he went and tortured his sister somehow while getting ready for bed and lost a bedtime story, so life is balanced.

Turns out CC isn't as clueless as we thought. On Saturday, I reminded them that we were going to a birthday party. CC immediately looked worried and said, "Oh, Mama. We're going to the King's birthday. Since I got the Baby Jesus, I need to bring the cake." I explained that we were going to her friend K's birthday and that her mom would provide the cake. Ever since then, CC continually checks to see when she is going to need to bring the cake for the King's birthday. The phrase "next year" is just a concept that she doesn't understand yet. Right now, we're on "a lot of days from now" and "I will tell you when." I am doomed.

I feel like the world is back right. After being so ultra-proud of my 6-year old, he proved that he was still 6. Monday was the celebration of 100 Days of school and he informed me while getting dressed that morning that he was supposed to collect 100 things and bring them to school. I started to lecture him about doing these things ahead of time, when he reminded me that he had 100 marbles and that all we needed to do was count them out. So, I showed him how to count by 2s and make sets of 10s while eating his breakfast and we were done. It was just a relief to have him be a normal kid again.

I didn't even realize I was being manipulated until I got the rest of the story from my DH. We were tucking the kids into bed. I was reading CC's story. She only got one story because she wasn't brushing her teeth after being told several times. Dad was reading B's two stories. After I finished CC's story, she joined B and Dad and I went into my room to watch TV. B comes in a few minutes later and asks if I will read his second story because Dad's eyes are tired from the flu. I agree and read "Pinkalicious" to both kids (CC gets to listen to his story, but can't pick or interact -- that's the rule). My DH later tells me that B came up with the tired eyes reasoning second -- his first comment was to have Mom read his second story so that CC really got a second story, too. I have never felt so proud of being manipulated in my life.

I am still trying to figure out how I came to have such an amazing son. He has decided to do the laundry. He is 6 (almost 7). He has helped me with the laundry off and on. His loved sorting the colors as a preschooler. He has always loved adding the soap. Now, we have a front-loading washer and dryer with see-through doors, so he watches the laundry spin. Finally, I showed him how to empty the pockets and allowed him to pour the soap on his own and he just took off. He sorts the clothes, puts each load in a laundry basket, zooms it through the house, loads the washer, adds the soap, and starts it. He listens for the beep, moves stuff to the dryer, empties the dryer and piles it all on my bed. He collects dirty laundry and empty hangars. He wants to know what all the compartments on the washer are and how the soap actually goes in. He empties the lint filter. I feel I must make a video tape of this because in a few years he will never believe that he voluntarily did chores.

Today was Mardi Gras and I was a bit sad. We were supposed to spend the weekend in New Orleans with friends at the parades and such but, one by one, we all came down with the flu and had to stay home. The kids and I are all well; my DH is the final victim. So, to cheer myself up, I bought a King's Cake. I know that you are supposed to eat the King's Cake on 12th Night -- it was just the closest I could come to Mardi Gras (especially since I really couldn't drink Hurricanes on flu meds). The rest of this story is actually from my DH. The kids loved the King's Cake, of course, and wanted some of it for breakfast on Sunday. Dad agreed for a special occasion if they could answer his questions. I was proud of him for talking them through the tradition and meaning of the King's Cake and proud of their knowledge of things like: Who is the King of Kings? Who is God's son? Who came to visit the Baby Jesus? etc. Both kids want the Baby Jesus. At the end, Dad explains the