Yeah. That's It.

I was unglamorously trying to squeeze myself into some spanx this morning and, of course, had an audience. I always have an audience. For everything. At least Ainsley is finally at the age where if I say, "mommy needs some privacy for just a little bit", she gets it and is not offended. The other three get seriously frosted at the suggestion that I'd like to be by myself for 3 seconds.

Well, Lizzy was the lucky one intently watching me doing the deep knee bends necessary to don the "shapewear" (which doesn't work THAT well, trust me - now I'm questioning why I even bother with the stinkin' things). She was staring and staring until a huge smile took over her face and she announced "Mommy's doing ballet!!!!". Whereupon she started to do plie's and saying "I'm doing ballet, too!".

Ballet. That's exactly what I was doing.

Things To Fling - April

I've been in a fairly good mood lately, so I only have one thing to fling this month:
icky super-short running shorts. After a junky winter, the local runners are gleefully abandoning their treadmills and exposing their lily-white legs (and other body parts) to the rest of us.


The shorts are from the early 80's (you know, the ones that are REALLY short and aren't connected on the sides). They look like this:



Unless you are a true elite, you have no business wearing these shorts. I don't care if you consistently win in your age-group, you have no business wearing these shorts. And if you haven't seen your 20's in 20+ years, you have no business wearing these shorts. Too much of your body is exposed...way, way, too much. My children and I should never have to see old hineys on our way home from the playground.

But then there are the moments of my day that make me forget about flinging. One of them recently arrived in the form of a little boy who wears his heart on his sleeve.

I realize the photo quality isn't fab, but it's his transparent joy that makes my heart ache.

Panic.

Johnny has escaped our yard twice now. The first time I completely freaked and ran faster than I have in ages yelling for him, feeling totally nauseous. The second time I knew immediately where to look. Why? He only has to negotiate a 4-foot fence to get to the only place he desires: the neighbors. Why does he love their yard? Because the two boys that live there are his heroes (they treat him like gold - they give him whatever he wants and carry him everywhere). There are toys over there that only boys love (my girls like them, but not on the same obsessive level as their brother). And there is one of those super-nice swing sets with a ladder to a fort. A fort with boy things in it - like a pretend snake and a firetruck and other...stuff.

One of his heroes (who had just lent my adoring child his shades - hence the big smile):



And how does he get there?? He easily climbs up the side of this play set and then somehow (since we haven't seen him do it) shimmies down the other side.


Yes, yes. I know. We should move the play set. The problem is, the space where we have it (plus the other gear) is narrow and slopes on the other side. And we can't just move it a couple feet from the fence b/c I know my child - he will try to scale the thing anyway and then a bigger accident may occur.

All I know is, and my boy knows it as well, there will be big, BIG trouble if it happens again.

Field Trips

We have a really nice butterfly house in our area and there's talk about taking the kidlets. I'm not so sure. The main reason is that my sweet and very sensitive boy likes to stomp on things. This is what boys do. Plus, I'm always telling him to "Be my big, brave boy and stomp on that bug for Mommy". I didn't think for a skinny minute this could be a problem, because one of my kids needs to be taught how to kill things that freak me out - what would I do if John was out of the house and some spider was stalking the family? Someone has to squish the horrid thing and it certainly isn't going to be me.

So I was showing the girls some crocuses that were just popping up and they were appropriately ooh-ing and aah-ing over them. Then Johnny stopped by for a looksie and, after I repeated "look at the sweet little flowers!", he appropriately (in his mind) tried to stomp on them. As I said earlier, that's what boys do. But if his response to something pretty like these:


is to smoosh them, what's to keep the child from extinguishing an insect this beautiful?



Knowing my luck, he'd probably do it in front of some little school children...or start a chain reaction among his siblings and it would be like a horror-show grape-stomp and we would be forever banished from the butterfly house.

Decisions. Decisions.

Oh, How We Love The Zoo

It was just warm enough a couple weeks ago to make a last-second decision to ditch any plans and field trip the morning. Fooz was available to herd the bairn, which is critical. Critical because none of them would be caught dead riding in a stroller or the wagon these days if they can help it - except Lizzy. But then it's only for a couple minutes to gnosh and then she wants to walk. I'd be thankful for this (because I'm tired of kid-related accessories) if I could guarantee no one would want to be held by the end of the tour. So we have gear.

The turkeys did end up walking most of the way and danced at the monkeys (it is SOOOO exciting to see MONKEYS!!!), shrieked with joy at the cheetahs, and actually were quietly awestruck at the elephants.

There was one thing that struck me: I hadn't been out in a random public place for awhile, and I'm always reminded of something when we are. We are loud. Shockingly and probably annoyingly-to-some kind of loud. The kids squealed and screeched and yelled each others' names and mine and the names of the animals so everyone in Creation could hear them. I'm busy doing head-counts every 5 seconds and then calling if I only get "three". Or two. But heads turn, and it isn't because of our freak show - it's because one or all of my kids have startled them by their voice. There were all these nice families at our zoo for their Spring Break (I know this because I am horribly nosy and listen in on every one's conversations), and they were being sweet and having fun and then my four would parade through with our happy-yelling. It's as if we have no couth.

Good grief.



I tried to take some pics, really. This is the only one with all four kidlets. We were at the penguins and there was a little cave they would have played in all day. They liked it much more than the stinky penguins.

Thank you, Fooz!

My Little Leprechauns

The pics are presented in order taken. I'm not sure why I bother trying to get everyone in the same frame. Ever.

Lizzy is the only one looking at the camera. Gracie is completely frosted. Someone has offended her (probably me). Sweet lil' cherub.

Gracie is still hacked off. Ainsley is at least smiling, and Johnny is getting ready to bolt.

Johnny's gone. Gracie's thinking about joining him. Lizzy and Ainsley are wondering when my ridiculousness will be over, but are playing along.

"psst. how's about an escape?"

We've got runners!

And we're back. Ainsley busy organizing Johnny. Lizzy still performing well. Gracie has her classic smirk on her face.

Triplet Logistics

It used to be so easy. Taking all four kids to a store - nearly any store - was a breeze. Really. From the time we were released from quarantine to avoid rsv, we were out the door. The system worked beautifully and efficiently: two in the double-stroller, two or one in the cart, depending on the cart situation. I had 18 months of breezy errand-running.

Then trouble happened. The trio discovered the "car carts" at the grocery. Totally uncool, especially if there is only one available. Two-year-olds have opinions, you see.

Then bigger trouble happened and she is called Miss Independent. Sweet Gracie decided one day that she would prefer to walk in stores. I didn't think much of it and allowed it to happen because she's a 100% mama's girl and usually sticks to me like glue. But why in the world did I not think that maybe, just maybe the other two would remain content hanging out in a cart while their sisters (remember, there's an older one in the mix) had freedom?

Well, now I have everyone walking at least 90% of the time and it is not cool. These are the days when I wish we could get away with putting eensy shock collars on our kids so if they run off we could give them a little jolt.

Double Sigh.