If the recipe calls for 1/3 cup of milk, it's ok to go ahead and dump a full cup of milk in it. It will remain edible.

I'm not certain why exactly I cleaned X-Man and Mac's room, going as far as to sort blocks from GI Joes from cars. And then I took X-Man up there for a nap. Which meant that he dumped everything out, stirred it up something fierce.....and passed out. It is now bedtime and he's just waking up from his nap. Goody.

If the baby dumps a box of cereal on the floor while the father figure is "watching" her, it will fall to the mother to sweep it up. If the mother tries to sweep it up, the baby will try to eat as much as possible as quickly as possible. The toddler will come to assist in this endeavor, going as far as to do "cereal angels" in the swept up pile to better spread the wealth. I can see why the father figure just let it be.

X-Man can stick his tongue up his nose. And he does. Several times a day. I used to think it looked bovine, now I'm leaning more giraffe like. It's odd.

And that's where I'm at.

Things learned over the weekend:

X-Man can empty and crush a box of taco shells in the amount of time it takes me to change a diaper. It would help if Cinco didn’t try to crawl under the couch while I was trying to change it.

I will learn of X-Man’s shenanigans when he brings me his newly y made chips, with peanut butter “yum mommy!”

In the time it takes me to clean up a box of crushed taco shells, Cinco can empty the entire contents of a bathroom drawer into the toilet.

X-Man will try to swim in the toilet. Cinco will try to join him. He will try to help her get in the toilet with him.

X-Man can fall asleep in the shower.

X-Man thinks the baby dolls in the house need to be potty trained. I’m considering asking him to try Cinco as well.

I can keep the bathroom door shut and cut down the family shenanigans by at least 80%. However, I will be stuck with a hysterical X-Man who has been very good with his potty training. And it doesn’t change the fact that Cinco hangs outside the bathroom door, looking for any excuse to get in there and get to work. 

The average week sees me buying about thirty dollars worth of produce. My kids love fruit and are pretty open minded about vegetables, so I don't sweat the bill. And no, gardening is not in my future.

Occasionally, I get swept up in the moment and attempt to be a homemaker. I retrieved my beautiful cobalt blue bowl, a wedding gift--the last of of the set, darn children. I filled it with an assortment of bright green apples, oranges and bananas. It looked beautiful. I happily set it on the table, understanding that it would be raided by the children, most certainly, as it was so appealing. Shortly before lunch today, I discovered my lovely bowl, still on the table, but now each apple had a large X-Man sized bit out of it.

Not to be outdone, Cinco discovered that if she climbs two shelves in the pantry, she can get into the granola bars. She then sits in the pantry and gnaws the middle of the bar, until she has eaten through the wrapper and is free to nibble the bar. This actually works well, not choking-wise, as she has to gnaw the bar and can't get too large a bite. However, she's only able to consume a little bit before she must move on to a new package. I have three barely eaten granola bars now sitting on the counter. I'm thinking about taking them and the apples and making some sort of pathetic apple crisp or something.

Yesterday morning, for reasons only known to himself, Mac opened the bathroom door, locked it and then shut it. With no one in the bathroom. X-Man was the most put out by this as it interfered with his nap time stalling techniques of using the bathroom repeatedly. Also, Mac did this before anyone had brushed their teeth that morning. It was awesome. The father figure struggled to manipulate the wire hanger to open it. Oh sure, the exact same door knob downstairs popped open no problem, mostly likely due to the fact that the door wasn't shut. But practice as he did, the father figure had great difficulties unlocking the door. But triumph he did.

So as I was writing last night, Mac came down very somber. He looked at me briefly before dropping his head. He mumbled "The bathroom door is locked again." I spun around in my chair "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!!!!" He looked up, lip quivering and whispered "You totally fell for it."

I told the father figure I was amused by how well he pulled off his joke. His ability to not laugh was impressive. And yet I had the slight twinge that this ability might serve him too well and be the bane of my existence come the teenage years. It could get interesting.

X-Man has a fever. Despite Mac’s best efforts, cowbell is NOT helping. Cinco just turned a year old, which means it was this time a year ago that X-Man began trying to squeeze as many ear infections as possible into one month. Yet again, his nose is pouring and his breathing is uneven and his eyes are teary. I am wondering if the poor boy has the worst allergies ever.

I had to determine how high his fever was. I don’t like to give medication until it reaches a certain temperature, just because. I had to take his temperature under his arm. This isn’t my first choice, but as my thermometer that takes readings on the temple has grown legs and walked off. I don’t blame it. But I was reduced to shoving an old school--well not that old the read out is still digital--thermometer under his arm. X-Man denounced this violation of his human rights loudly and with prejudice. I considered informing him of another way to gauge his internal temperature, but the amount of effort he put into trying to remove the thermometer from his armpit convinced me to leave well enough alone.

The boy is sick and laying in my lap. Although he is not a small child, he is a snuggle bug….especially when not feeling well.

Ah Easter. The mix of candy and outside play seems like a good one. What better way to burn off the sugar? But it also brings interesting moments of dread. Like when you discover your potty training son’s dirty jeans on the floor of the bathroom. Covered in dirty, there was an alarming crusty, yucky something all over the seat of them. I cringed and investigated further, only to determine that X-Man had sat on and melted a large quantity of chocolate. My relief was quickly replaced by horror….”did he sit and ruin his chocolate rabbit? That was good quality chocolate there! What a waste!” At least I didn’t attempt to salvage any of the squished chocolate. Although it had been that kind of day.

Today I was THAT mom. My son walked into his swimming lessons wearing only his swimming trunks and rubber rain boots. Both were wise choices, he was going swimming and it was raining. However, that’s not typically the image I like to project to the general public. It wasn’t due to lack of trying. I told Mac to get ready for swimming. I was trying to get dinner prepped and kids settled and heard Mac head out to the car. I was pleased that he was down with the drill. I hopped in the car and took off. I strongly recommend checking your children’s appearance in the rearview mirror BEFORE pulling out of the driveway. Otherwise you find yourself walking into a public building with your son, bare chested with dinosaur rain boots on his feet. And I was surprisingly ambivalent about it.

Most parents were too busy caring for their own children to seem to notice. However one mother did cast a disapproving look my way. I met her eyes and said “It’s earth day. We’re reducing our laundry needs.”

Go ahead. Judge me now.  

Someone gave X-Man a squirt gun. In the car! I am perplexed as to how anyone could ever think this was a good idea. Not that a good idea has ever been a requirement for any of my kids’ shenanigans. And so, heading home, I was hit by a spray of water. While attempting to merge onto the freeway. It was not conducive to safe driving. So X-Man shot me. I yelled at X-Man. X-Man turned the gun onto a sleeping Cinco. I yelled at X-Man again. His five point harness did not allow him to turn and shoot his siblings. So he contented himself by shooting the car windows. Until he dropped it. Then he began to wail. So clearly the obvious remedy in Baby’s eyes was to hand him yet another squirt gun.

Why were there squirt guns in my car? Well that’s thanks to my mother. I think she’s out to get me. She cleverly disguised her plan as prizes in Easter baskets for them. It worked. That that does not kill us makes us stronger. I can now drive through a squirt gun attack.

I’m glad that X-Man is enjoying his Easter prizes. He had a rough go of it while at Church for Easter. The service started out with candle light. X-Man wanted a candle. Desperately.  I attempted to help him hold mine. But he was not interested in holding my candle. He was interested in blowing it out. So there I was, holding a symbol of the light of Christ….and my son blew it out. Not content with extinguishing my little light, he demanded access to his Nana’s. His Nana said no. X-Man wailed. He then proceeded to attempt to blow out any and all nearby candles. He was not particularly successful. But most definitely not for lack of trying. There might be some symbolism here that I would rather not think about.

Pick me up please now! I need you, I love you. And I want what you are eating. I'm pretty sure it's banana peal because that's the most yummiest thing to me right now and you never let me have it. Probably because you are hoarding it all for yourself.

Wait! X-Man is holding my doll. Put me down! Put me down NOW! And tell him to give it to me because screaming at him isn't getting the message across.  And tell him to get out of his car because my baby wants to ride on it.

Well if you won't make X-Man give the baby his car, pick me up. Now. I will wait for you to put your coffee down . If I must. I hope you realize the patience I am exhibiting. Which I more than I can say you showed me last night. I didn't ask to be wide awake last night but I heard something about an eclipse you wanted to see.  You're welcome.

What are you doing? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? That's MY poop!!! I made it! Why are you taking it away from me? It's mine! I really want it! I'm leaving now. I can't be part of this. And no you can't put another diaper on me just so you can take it away again.

What's with the tissue? Why do you hate anything that comes from me? And if you want my nose clean then what's wrong with your shirt? It's way more comfortable,  which is why you wear it. I mean really, if it's good enough for you why not for me? Also, what's up with not sharing your shoes as well? It's not like there aren't enough to go around.

If you would stop chatting with your friends and pay attention to me, you would notice that I am close to starvation here. I saw you watch the viral video that claims moms work 24 hours a day, coulda fooled me. If you had been on the ball here mom, I wouldn't' have had to climb the pantry shelves and bust out the non-organic cereal bars. You're acting as if I ate the whole box. I didn't eat a single one.  I just prechewed them for you. My goodness I'm trying to help you out here.

Oh sure I'm the one that needs a nap. Guess I'll take one for the team.....again.

Mac where did you put Cinco’s new baby doll?”

“It is in the palace of darkness and fatigue.”

EH?

Mac clarified “That’s what I say when I don’t know things.”

Good to know.

I inadvertently established a bedtime routine with Mac. As I was struggling to meet a looming deadline, Mac came to say goodnight. I hugged and kissed him and sent him on his way. Only he refused to go. “You forgot something!” I rekissed and rehugged him. “You still forgot something!” He helpfully pointed to the calendar. Not that it helped me at all. He gestured wildly at the calendar. I was still perplexed. There were no weird stickers or notes on it. I was completely befuddled.  He finally exploded “You have to say ‘See you tomorrow’” Oh….oops.

It is very hard to clean banana out of semi-shag carpet. This wasn’t a lesson that I needed to learn. I assumed that banana and carpets shouldn’t mix. However Cinco, Baby and Mac conspired to teach us this lesson. Although it’s wasn’t for lack of botched clean up attempts on their part. No one is quite clear on how the banana ended up in Mac’s bedroom but everyone was clear on the fact that Cinco sat on it.

artwork by Baby or Baba. Neither can remember. 

This is one of the more bloody blogs I’ve written. I was in a different room when Cinco face planted in front of the father figure. For obvious reasons, she is only content in my lap at this point.  This is making typing hard. Not to mention it is again bed time. Mac just came in to say goodnight. I made sure to hug him and say “I love you. Good night. See you tomorrow.”

The boy’s giggle is infection and darling. And he giggled at me and said “Close Mommy, you’re supposed to say ‘See you in the morning’!” Now that I know I have to remember it…..I’ll never get it right. No good comes from talking to your children. 

You know when it’s a good time to discover your debit card is missing? When you’re sitting at the gas pump, on empty.  Of course this prompts a rushed trip home to check your account, which is shockingly low on funds, but that is entirely your fault. So you cancel the card. And the next day, you find it in a hoodie you forgot you wore.  The hoodie you were going to wear to the dmv to renew the tabs for the ridiculous paperweight still sitting in your driveway. You were going to wear it but didn’t because the state of Washington did what you could not do, convince the father figure to rid himself of the bane on your existence.  The thought of paying for new license plates and tabs was a bridge too far. Not the thousands of dollars we’ve already thrown into it over the last year, the sixty dollars to make it legal. Whatever, I know when to keep my thoughts to myself.

The father figure said little about me losing yet another debit card. It actually occurs more often than I would like to admit. But since he lost his phone, he’s recognized that come a certain amount of children; you do completely lose your mind. I used to claim that I might lose my debit card but I had never lost a child before. Thanks to Mac, that curve was blown. Although I have yet to leave a child anywhere. That really should account for something. Especially as the number seems to exponentially grow.

X-Man is refusing to nap but using the potty. You think that I’d be happy with this turn of event, but I am loath to lose the quiet time of naps. There’s a lovely peace that comes from knowing right where X-Man is and that he is most certainly doing nothing destructive. Not to mention I don’t think our water bill is going to appreciate X-Man’s new found habit of flushing the potty as often as he can. Which certainly includes stopping every time he passes the bathroom to randomly flush the toilet.  He has also taken to stashing his underwear in random spot throughout the house. This way he can change them as often as the mood strikes him. Which apparently is often.  All and all there’s not much to complain about. But that won’t stop me.

Beware the email that arrives offering a “volunteer opportunity.” No good can come from it.

The father figure is most likely going to get the last laugh here. In the last three days, I rescued a particular carton of eggs from X-Man not once, not twice but three times. The carton is not made of candy. It does not hold toy cars. It’s just a boring egg carton, with eggs in it. At least there were. This last morning I ran laundry upstairs only to return to find X-Man with the empty carton of eggs.  It was empty because he had thrown not one, not two but four eggs on the floor. The boy has a good arm on him. Especially when cheered on by Cinco.

He seemed genuinely shocked and offended that I stuck him in the corner.  I was genuinely shocked and offended that he had ignored my increasingly stern warnings to leave the contents of the refrigerator in the refrigerator.  Cinco decided that she should climb in the dishwasher.

We live in a quiet neighborhood inhabited by retirees. The weather’s been beautiful and we’ve all ventured outdoors. One neighbor lady walked over to chat about how bad the dandelions are this year. Apparently they’ve all taken pity on me and my war on the weeds. As we were chatting Mac bounded up and said “Hi Mrs. Gail!” I was proud of him and the good manners he exhibited. I mean, not only are we the random family with children in the neighborhood, we are also homeschoolers and there are a chaotic amount of children for the one house. So I most definitely want them to come across as respectful and pleasant.  He continued on his conversation with her “Our brother is named X-Man and mommy is potty training him. If he goes poop in the potty she gives him chocolate. So far he’s done it once today.”  All the news that’s fit to share…..and then some. 

I don't have a lawn. I have a breeding ground for dandelions. So now I have blisters on my hands as I spent a couple hours digging them out. Well some out. Our lovely neighbor took one look and said "Better you than me." I told him I was three seconds away from going all Round Up on the yard. I didn't. Not yet. Now there are all these holes in the dandelion breeding ground. But there's less yellow to distract from the daffodils.

I learned over the weekend that if you are a boy and around the age of three, you will lick things. That's just the way it goes. I was watching the one reality show I like, TLC's The Little Couple, starring two of the most darling children you will ever see. Anyway, the mom and dad were off the finalize their daughter's adoption and said goodbye to their three year old son. Who said goodbye to his father.....by licking his hand. A facebook friend mentioned that her three-ish year old son it into licking people as well. Which made my rule today, "No Licking Mommy" even more cruel in X-Man's eyes. It's just the way of the world mom.

The father figure and I found ourselves collapsed on the couch watching "The Best of SNL '90s." We complained about how it was then that all the good stars were cast. But what kept us watching were the musical acts. There was so much good music in the '90s. Good angry, angst filled music. None of this Beiber nonsense that permeates the airwaves today. Seriously, our children will never know peer produced good music.

And then we started to search for our AARP cards.

Mac just bellowed for me to come upstairs. He said that I needed to bring him a towel and turn off the shower. When I got up there, he was standing, wet and naked, in the bathroom door. There was a towel less than three feet behind him. And the shower was off. I pointed this out to him and he responded "Oh, actually I guess I know how to turn it off."

The difference between the father figure and myself? I caught X-Man as he was removing the eggs from the refrigerator.

And that's about all I learned today. That and wood floors are absurd. You have to sweep them four times a day and then you have to wash them on your hands and knees. I don't care if everything I'm sweeping up would be hidden away in the carpet, the point is, it would be hidden away. And I don't need to wash it three times a week.

I have crumby kids. Crumby crumby kids. Maybe X-Man figured that an egg or two into the mix and he'd get a nice pastry out of it.

It's been the kind of day where Cinco brushes my legs with a hairbrush while I try to work out. As I did push ups, apparently Jillian Michaels ultimate favorite exercise ever, she sat on my back and hit my head with a hammer. Fortunately, I guess, it was a plastic hammer. She did this because she could, and also because her older sisters were watching her. Much like they were watching her when she helped X-Man smash eggs on the floor.

Yesterday was Baba's birthday. It was a lovely day. The kind of day where I get lost in the moment, bask in the joy that truly is my children, and decide to take them to a movie. On my own.

Fortunately, I was so enjoying family, I decided to invite Nana and Dada to come with us. Something told me that I should attempt to even out the numbers a bit. Which was good.

We went to see The Lego Movie. X-Man was very excited because he saw an arcade game with a steering wheel and decided he was in Heaven. He wasn't particularly convinced but was willing to follow the crowd. He spent the previews trying to figure out how to stay seated in his collapsing chair. Although the bouncing was rather fun.

As soon as the previews began, Cinco began to dance. Dancing for Cinco means bouncing and bouncing and trying to vault out of whichever arms are restraining her. She also danced through the first song. And then she got fussy. Her dancing had worn her out. She needed to be walked for all of five minutes before passing out.

As soon as I returned with the completely zonked Cinco, X-Man decided he needed to go to the bathroom. So Cinco was handed off to Nana and X-Man and I made our first out of three trips to the bathroom. But he kept his pull up dry so I couldn't complain. It was pretty clear that he was using his bathroom trips to scope out the lobby and figure out where that car game was. I was wise to his plan and kept detouring him back to the theater.

While I missed parts of the movie, I was there enough to hear deep bellied laughs from all of my kids, including X-Man. It was a good day.

We returned home and baking a birthday cake was on the to do list. Birthday cakes require eggs. I still didn't have eggs. The moment had passed and reality was back.

X-Man helped restore reality by adding his special touches to Baba's cake as I was trying to convince Cinco that she really, really, really needed to take a late afternoon nap. He was pulling a gallon of milk out of the fridge when I became aware of his shenanigans.

It could have been worse. I could have walked into the kitchen and caught him on the kitchen table, on all fours, eating the last of the birthday cake, face first, animal style. Oh wait....that was today.