Pretty Much Just for Parents

Recently Curtis did a science experiment for homeschool and we made a little slideshow about it. This will not win any awards for best documentary, but it might be fun for the grandparents to see. He took colored tablets and put them in milk to dissolve. The milk keeps them from dissolving very quickly (unlike when we put them in water). But when you put in a drop of liquid detergent it goes crazy! He and Eli also discovered that milk makes very nice bubbles and insisted I take pictures of each bubble they made! Scintillating.  

The Book of Mom

After a long summer cooped up in the house, my seven children have become immune to the sound of my voice. Like the Children of Israel in the Bible, they are beginning to rebel against my commands, being lifted up in all manner of exceeding rudeness. As you can imagine, this has driven me over the edge of insanity a few times. (Who am I kidding? I have lived teetering on the edge of insanity every day since February 2, 1997 when my twins were born!) Every child in this house takes a turn in the let’s-make-mom-crazy game, but Gideon (almost 2) is usually the biggest culprit. He tears through the house like a tornado, leaving half-eaten granola bars and leaky sippy cups in his wake. Last week, while trying to pack for a weekend trip, Gid was in fine form, running through the house like a madman, undoing piles of folded laundry, getting into forbidden cupboards, beating up his big brothers with an oversized, red toy shovel and committing all manner of toddler crimes. Well, I finally cracked. And while suffering in this chaos-induced state of craziness, I laid down the law. I wrote up a Momifesto if you will, or more fittingly, some scriptures from the “Book of Mom”. As I wrote, I felt a frenzied inspiration fill my mind with more and more commands for all of my children. It was exhilarating and liberating! I feverishly wrote down my reasonable expectations for the Children of Byers. All I ask is that they study these words of wisdom and apply them to their lives (if they want their mother to remain the lovely, sweet-tempered woman they know and love.) Maybe someday when the “Littles” can read, they too, might actually comply.

Cease to whine!

Cease calling “Mo-om!” more times than is needful (which is more than one.)

Cease to pour the new gallon of bubble solution out on the ground and then come sobbing to me that the bubbles are all gone.

Cease to pull off your poopy diaper and leave it on the front porch.

Cease to spread my box of 300 Q-tips all over the bathroom.

Cease to throw toilet paper rolls into the guest toilet.

Cease to throw every new toy I buy into the window well within minutes of taking it outside.

Cease to huck croquet balls at your brother’s head.

Cease to scale the cupboards in search of the sunscreen so you can meticulously squirt it all over each brick paver on the back patio.

Cease to crush pink packing peanuts into smithereens on my living room floor.

Cease to consume a sleeve of crackers while hiding under my sheets.

Cease to take a bite out of every apple in the fruit bowl.

Cease to climb on the table.

Cease to pour the entire contents of the saltshaker on the table after climbing on said table.

Cease to immerse the cable remote control in a large glass of lemonade.

Cease to strip off your diaper and clothing, flinging them over the bars of the crib, before you nap naked.

Cease to scold me for singing along with the radio.

Cease to run around the house naked after stripping to go potty, submitting to a wiping only when I chase you down and end up wiping you as you assume the downward facing dog position in the middle of the kitchen.

Cease to correct me when I call you your brother’s name (you know who I mean ZacCodJonEliGid – Curtis!)

Cease to put pretzels in your pockets, which then end up in my washing machine causing a catastrophic laundry backup (because heaven knows I can’t handle any more issues with the laundry).

Cease to ask, “Is there tofu in this?”

Cease to sit on the pot longer than is needful (because I know you’re in there and the pans will still need washing when you’re done.)

Cease to teach your three year-old brother songs with the words “stinky” and “poo” in them.

Cease to carry on all conversations with each other by quoting movies I have never seen.

Cease to call me while I’m at a movie with your father to ask me if you can have a cookie.

Cease to text me from your bedroom.

And did I mention…Cease to whine!

Thus sayeth the Mom, “So let it be written, so let it be done!”

The Well-Trained Puppy

The kids have always wanted a pet. I have always had another child instead. The two things don't work together, so we are petless. But it's all working out for the best, because lately we've had two puppies crawling around the house. Gid and Eli love to play puppies! In the picture above they are drinking water from their puppy bowls and LOVING it! So far it's been cute and I've even enjoyed seeing them crawling around, barking at each other, wagging their little hineys with their tongues hanging out of their mouths. But now it's gone too far.

Gid is puppy trained. Puppy trained is good for a puppy, not so much for a two year-old. This week he started going outside to poop. Hmmm. Where would he learn such a thing? The dangerous facet of this behavior is that once he poops, he pulls off the diaper (and all the clothing he's wearing in the process) and leaves it all on the patio. Then I look out and see him streaking across the back yard and I know what's going on! I've tried to catch him in the act, but amazingly, I don't always notice him slipping out back to do the dirty deed! Sometimes, he strips and then poops. I find the little poop logs outside, where any good little puppy would deposit them. It's like having a well-trained puppy, but oh so wrong! I could look at it this way: he's showing some signs that he might be ready for potty training. I've done the potty training thing many times, but I've never had to undo the puppy training before beginning the process!

It never fails that with Gid I have to throw out my well-used, offspring owner's manual and make it up as I go! He's unlike any other child I've had. He's crazier, more independent, more coordinated, louder, funnier, and bigger. I'm too old for this.

The Responsible Woman

Cody woke me up at 4:30 this morning. He's had the stomach flu off and on for a week, and although we thought he was "off" for good, he had barfed again. He was mortified to tell me that he also had diarrhea and it had squirted all over the bathroom floor while he was tossing his cookies in the toilet. Well, after cleaning all that up, rebooting my laundry so I could start a load with all the soiled Cody stuff and showering because I was still awake and 8:30 a.m. church was only a few hours off, I settled on the couch at 5:30 a.m. to see if I could catch a little sleep before getting ready. My mind was definitely on overdrive and very active and I dreamed the most vivid dream.

This was my dream: Our family had to move someplace far away, so we packed up many belongings and I loaded them and all the family onto a flatbed trailer hooked up to Curty's bike. Then I got on the bike and started pedaling, pulling the rest of the family on the trailer as I searched for a new house for us in a very snowy place. After many hours of pedaling this tiny, inadequate bike, I spied an abandoned house behind some huge, eight to ten foot snowdrifts that might work for the night. I wanted to check out some more options though, so I decided to keep searching for a while. 

I eventually came to a small city that was entirely indoors with church carpeting everywhere instead of concrete. It was warm and nice and I turned back to see what the family thought, only to discover that somewhere behind me, they had bailed off the trailer without telling me. I was so frustrated to have to leave this great place and go look for them!  I trekked back out into the snow and discovered they had stayed in the abandoned house and were frolicking about in the snow out front. I got off the bike and headed toward them, only to fall off a ledge and deep into a snow bank that towered above me six or eight feet. I could see the snow that had gathered on the ledge was unsteady and several feet of it was about to fall on top of me at any moment. I yelled and yelled for anyone in the family to help me. I could hear them laughing and throwing snowballs, but no one would come to my rescue. Then I woke up.

Ren always says my dreams are boring, they're so obvious in their meaning. This time, I would have to agree. Though the things that come out in my dreams are never my conscious thoughts or feelings, they certainly strike a familiar chord in me when I ponder them. I think I'm tired of being responsible. What do you think?

Disco Dad

That 70's post was so incomplete without this picture. Now you can have the authentic experience of what happens when you give your 70 year-old Dad a "70's Kit!" Be sure to sing the alternate Stayin' Alive while viewing the picture! Dad, I think you're going to live forever!

That 70's Man

It's my Dad's 70th birthday today -- Happy Birthday Dad! This event also means that I will be turning 40 this year, since I'm 30 years behind him, but there's a few more months before I have to face that. So, I was chatting with my mom about what they were going to do for the soiree and I came up with the idea that they should do a 70's party! I wish we could have been there, but since we weren't we rewrote the words to a song that just screams 70's: Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees. It would be so impressive if we'd been able to write it, learn it, sing it, video tape it and upload it to Youtube between when I talked with my mom at noon and party time at 8:00. Sorry to say, I'm good, but I'm not that good. So we just sang it over the phone.  I thought I'd post the lyrics though, just in case anyone wants to feel inspired. Be sure to sing it in a drug-induced falsetto voice, it sounds more authentic that way.

Stayin' Alive (at 70)

Well you can tell by the way he eats his cake
he's the birthday boy, for goodness' sake.
The family's there, the food is too,
He's turning 70, our dear grandpoo.

And now it's all right, it's okay
and you may look the other way.
We can try to understand
Seven decades effect on man.

Whether you're 50 or 60 or 70
you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive.
If you're cake's on fire like a Viking funeral pyre
you're still stayin' alive, stayin' alive
Ah, ah, ah, ah stayin' alive, stayin' alive
Ah, ah, ah, ah stayin' aliiiiiiiiiive.

Happy Birthday dear Grandpoo
The Byers Fam is wishing you
We sure wish we could be there
to eat your cake and count your hairs.

{Repeat Bridge and Chorus, but end with Happy Birthday to Yooooooooooooo!}

We'll accept our grammy by video message, thank you.

Kids these days...

I got me a story to tell ya'll, so listen up. Two days afore Christmas, Pa and I went over to the local grocery store and bought us one of them new-fangled, fancy air popcorn poppers. Who knew that the kids would think it was one of the snazziest, dad-gum inventions they'd ever laid eyes on! They grinned like they'd seen their grandpappy runnin' around in his long, red winter underwear with the flaps open, they was that tickled with the contraption! The sight of them laughin' was 'most too much, I just had to get me some pichers of the hubbub that there popper made in our kitchen.

First the boys came over to see what was makin' all the hubbub...

Then, right before their very eyes, that thang started spewin' popcorn!

They was so amazed, they had to go get little Bubba...

who screamed and tried to grab that there popcorn he was so plum tickled.

Then, the next day they begged, "Ma, please cain't we make popcorn with the magic machine? Our sister, Bobby Sue, ain't got to watch it yet!" She was that excited too.

Kids these days!

(**Note: While blogging at five in the morning, I seem to be exhibiting an alternate personality. Hopefully she'll be gone when I start posting about our trip or the kids may end up visiting a hog farm in Pig Snout Hollow instead of the snow in St. George.)

Out of Commission

We just got back from a trip to St. George, UT where we visited our friends the Everetts and played in the snow. We were supposed to leave early last Saturday morning, but Eli started throwing up on Friday night and we got worried that we'd end up with a bunch of kids throwing up in the car. When he seemed okay on Saturday we tried to leave again (albeit much later than we'd hoped) but as we were getting in the car to go, Jonah decides to show us that the finger he tried to cut off (see this post for that story) has now become infected and has several lovely pustules forming on it. So, instead of heading out, I headed over to urgent care with him and spent 2 hours there waiting for a doctor to say, "Yup, it's infected, here's a prescription for antibiotics."

We finally got out on Sunday and spent the week in Utah with intermittent throwing up by Gid, then Cody, then Gid again. We got home Friday night and Ren spent the night throwing up. I woke up feeling that awful feeling in my gut that said it was coming fast! I opted to not eat anything and managed to keep from throwing up, I just felt like I needed to all day and into the night. I'm dying to unpack our bags, do laundry from the trip, take down all the Christmas decorations and most importantly BLOG about Christmas and our trip, but instead I'm laying around feeling weak and dizzy from no food yesterday and the nasty stomach bug which seems to be leaving my system. So, for the time being I'm out of commission and I'll just leave you with new quotes in my sidebar and the promise of many things to come (when I dig out from everything else!) Hope you are all healthy and having an uneventful (translation: un-barfy) new year.