You Know You're a Mom When's-Day

Just moments after emerging from an oh-so-needed shower, you find both of your forearms covered in an unidentifiable sticky substance after a split-second hug with any of your kids.  Because they're all equally likely to be the sticky bandit.

You know from personal experience that there is no fix for Jet-Dry on a laptop keyboard.  No matter how quickly you dismantle and clean it.

You have reached the day where your toddler no longer removes her diaper in a civilized manner (if there is such a thing), but instead has resorted to ripping it to shreds, She-Ra style. 

About a day after you wash the bathroom rugs, you always re-realize that you probably should've gone with a color besides practically-white in a house with three kids.

While pondering potential, future careers for your children, you have the most fun with your toddler's possibilities.  Among the front-runners right now:  tight-rope walker, stunt woman, and crash test dummy.  This is in stark contrast to her older brother who will make an excellent litigator, and her older sister who will likely be some sort of backpacking artist.

You decide that among the most magnificent sights in the life of a parent is watching all the kids get along, even if only briefly.  It's even better when they're all getting along because the older one is reading to the younger two.

 

You've had to resort to dead-bolting all of your doors, or else you're standing at the stove cooking, look across the kitchen to the window and see this:

And even this (in case you can't tell, she's sprinting her little heart out toward that playground):

You had no idea how cute and rewarding it would be to watch your four year old run laps at soccer practice.  (Go Abby Go!)

You've watched history repeat itself.  Just two short years ago, your toddler's big sister discovered the joy of shaking little stick trees on the very same soccer field.  And now...even though they're a little thicker, it didn't stop this girl from trying.

Tree shaking circa April 2009...

You've learned that there are two kinds of silence.  The peaceful kind when you know the kids are asleep, and the super-scary kind with which lurks the promise of mischief when the kids are most definitely not asleep.

Down at the Hap-hap-happiest Place on Earth!

If it weren't for my wonderful husband's spontaneous streak, the kids and I would have spent Ben's Spring Break in Georgia, amidst the rain and unseasonable cold, playing the Wii, venturing out for dollar popcorn at Target, and visiting the library.  Not that those things aren't fun, and I suspect we'll be doing a lot of them this summer, but the alternative was better.

Walt Disney World

Up until a few days prior, the five of us were preparing for a highly-organized, painstakingly planned trip to central Florida.  Then we got the best news, quite possibly, ever.  My generous and thoughtful mother-in-law offered to make arrangements so that we wouldn't have to take our precocious, often-volatile, but still very cute toddler with us.  And in the moment she delivered the news that everything had fallen into place, the trip went from being stressful to feeling like vacation.

I might get flamed for this by a few random readers who don't know us personally.  We do most everything as a family, day in and day out.  But, how much more fun would Disney World be for a four year old girl and seven year old boy without their antsy toddler sister lagging behind as one of us tried to navigate her stroller through the crowds?  In a word (or two) - A LOT.

Let this stand as my very public and oh-so-gratuitous
Thank You!!!!! 
to all of the folks who made it possible for Sarah not to go to Disney World.  (Or something that makes it sound like I love her as much as I actually do and not how much I was ready to get rid of her.)

I will try to keep this as brief as possible, but seeing how we spent only one long day in New York City a year ago and I managed two entire blog posts about it, it may prove difficult for me to cram eight days at Disney World into one.  I'll give it my best shot.

We left early Friday morning, opting to take Ben out of school for an extra day to get the most bang for our Disney buck.  After delivering Sarah to her accommodating grandfather, who endured half a day with a 22 month old sidekick and lived to tell about it, we arrived in Orlando around 4pm.  Against all of the advice I read about setting a precedent and failing to live up to it with other parks in subsequent days, we went to the Magic Kingdom straight away.

We opted to go just us and the kids - no camera.  We wanted to see the excitement on our kids faces with our eyes, not through a lens.  (Okay, actually those are the wise words of my husband.  It took some convincing for me to leave it behind.)  You'll just have to believe me when I say it - the looks on their little faces were priceless.  Abby's eyes were as big as saucers (whatever that means) and Ben was soaking it all up.  We arrived just in time for a parade, which started, literally, as we entered Main Street.  It felt as if the entire thing unfolded in our honor.  And that was just the beginning of an amazing week.

Here is where I default to photos to tell the story where my words would fall short.  (Okay, so I have to supplement with a few words.)

The Animal Kingdom

Meeting Flik was the beginning of a new, unexpected obsession on the part of our surprisingly social, but always lovable Abby - the wonderful world of meeting characters.  (Ben was skeptical at first, but ended up enjoying it too.)

A man at the Dinosaur ride told Ben, "You have a lizard on your shirt!"  Ben looked down at his shirt, then back up at the man, and glared at him as if he'd heard that joke 100 times before and it had long since ceased to be funny.  Poor kid.  Can't take a joke - just like his old mom.

 

Here are the before and after shots of the Cali River Rapids ride.  Dry and then...not so much.

We didn't know who this guy was.  We've since been educated he was in Tarzan.  (And we have also since watched the movie, especially since a personality quiz at Hollywood Studios labeled Ben as most like Tarzan.)

Beating the drums in Africa.  On a random note, I actually think that Disney went so far as to mimic the climates of the regions in the Animal Kingdom.  Africa was blazin' hot and Asia felt cooler and more rainforest-y.  I have not confirmed that this is true, but I believe if anyone could do it, Disney World could.

Scanning the horizon for creatures on the Kilimanjaro Safari.  During the ride, Abby declared, "It's a great day to be in Africa!"  I suppose she thought we actually were.  I loved it.  Later, she said, "Thank you for taking me to Africa."  I think it's safe to say she enjoyed it there.

We kicked off a spree of Disney animated 3D shows with "It's Tough to be a Bug".  Maybe a bad idea?  But it ended up okay.  Hopper was a little scary to Abby.  The spray in the face, as the termite in the movie exterminated us with "acid", was a memorable event in her little life.  From that point on, every time we sat down in a theater, including the minute we walked into the Hall of Presidents on the last day, she would ask, "Does this have spray?!"  No spray at the Hall of Presidents.  (Of course, that kept me giggling throughout the duration of the presidential presentations.  I felt so very unpatriotic.)

 

We decided Ben is infatuated with touching things.  He was constantly laying, rubbing, and swinging on every surface at the parks.  Also, we discovered his deep-rooted fear of being lost.  It would have been physically impossible for us to leave him behind.  Not that I was trying to or anything...  The child had us by the hand with a death grip and if not our hand, our shirt or pants pocket.  If, for 30 seconds, we let go of his hand, he ran frantically in order to get back to us.  This was preferable to the little sister who broke away from us at her whim and even hid a couple of times.  A happy medium between the two would be fantastic.

We used our FastPass for Expedition Everest.  It was awesome.  Turns out, it was Ben's across-the-park favorite.  Who knew he would be our thrill-seeker?  (Not me.)  Ben and Sam are about a third of the way from the front.  Sam's wearing a yellow shirt.

Didn't spot them?  Here's a terrible quality zoom of them.  (Hey, I'm no photo/computer whiz.)   I absolutely love Ben's face.  This was the first of four times he rode it.  He appeared skeptical, but got over that quickly.  I think he told everyone he saw how much he loved this ride, strangers and friends alike.

 I think this picture speaks for itself as far as how much I enjoyed riding Triceratops Spin.

Here's where Abby cooperated for a photo for once, and Ben took the opportunity to impale himself in the eye with a triceratops horn.

And this is the duck who followed us around begging Spicy Doritos.  (She loved them.  Who would've guessed?)   Okay, that has nothing to do with Disney World, but it wouldn't be a blog post by me without something uber-random, right?

And that wrapped up a pretty long day at the Animal Kingdom.  Turns out, these little guys were plum tuckered out.  As I'm sure you are - from reading this post.

That said, this seems like an excellent place to take a break.  I suppose I will report to you by park.  That sounds like a plan!  Before I depart for an adventurous day as a stay-at-home-mom, let me just say that I have almost never been more proud of my two eldest children than I was the entire week of this trip.  Their little legs must've nearly fallen off from the walking and they complained not one single time.  I'm just going to come right out and say it - my kids rock my socks off.

Next park...Magic Kingdom?  Stay tuned...

How Do I Know I'm a Mom? Nothing surprises me anymore.

You hear one of your kids say, "Gross!", and before you run into the next room to inspect, you pause a moment to consider the possibilities.  No one ever claimed your imagination was anything less than overly-active.  This allows for you to be underwhelmed, 9 times out of 10, by the "gross" situation.

You'd love to take the inventor of the lickable fruit roll-up tattoos out back and pour syrup and jelly all over him/her.  It might be cruel and/or unusual, but at least it's equitable.

You've been engaged in a tug of war match with your toddler over the remote that you weren't completely confident you would end up winning.

You thought it was wise to rest your night-time cup of water high on the bed post, out of reach (at least out of easy reach) from your toddler.  You didn't anticipate waking up to a whooshing noise, an "Uh oh", and a rather large puddle on your bed.  The moral of the story:  Never underestimate toddlers.  Ever.

Just like there's a sweet spot on a baseball bat, field hockey stick, and golf club, there seems to be a sweet spot on your precious toddler's face and/or head.  This is the spot that will repeatedly get hit/banged/cut/bruised/goose-egged/knocked into a door frame/rammed into the tile floor.  They all have them.  Every last child on the planet.

You have no idea who gave your wily toddler the idea to climb out of her crib.

You've gone to the grocery store, the library, and your son's school only to come home and realize that you've been sporting half a dozen Disney princess stickers on the back of your shirt.  All Belle, of course, because your four year old knows she's your favorite.

On the same day your daughter dove off her older sister's bed, she also jumped out of her backyard swing and landed in a heaping pile of debris from the previous evening's storm.  Before cleaning her up, but after being sure she wasn't injured, you snapped this picture because, come on, that's funny (and maybe a little bit sad)...

You've been asked, out of the blue by your seven year old, if captured by pirates whether you would choose to join the pirate crew or die.  You were only slightly taken aback by that.  Less surprising was his quick and decisive answer that he would never answer to a pirate.

When people ask how it is that your toddler climbs out of her crib, you need only to show them this picture.  Then you explain that you have big plans for her in the area of contortionism - or, at the very least, gymnastics.

On a related note, sometimes you find things out about your children that you never would have guessed - like how they may have promising futures in break-dancing.

 

Most surprising, however, is when you find your ordinarily-adventurous toddler sitting calmly doing a puzzle in the midst of the break-dancing session.

Vacationin' (Or some other word that's actually a word.)

I hate to go a whole week without publishing something on here.  It's like some sort of assignment I've given myself.  Maybe I'm the only person who does that kind of thing...  That would not surprise me at all.

Either way, this will be brief because, well, I'm on vacation. 

At the Happiest Place on Earth.

Where Dreams Come True.

And where, apparently, at some point my kids modeled without my knowledge for the safety signs posted on half of the rides around here.  No, no, not the one where they're sitting calmly side-by-side on the seat...the other one.  What not to do.  The flailing limbs half out of the vehicle.  Yes.  That one.  Those are Ben and Abby.  True to size and character.

Our little Tasmanian devil (aka Sarah) is spending the long week with her Grammie & other loving folks from my better half's precious hometown.

More on this later...

In the meantime, I'll sum up with this -

We're having an awesome time.  

See?

Hahahaha - no really, we are (not sure what happened in that particular picture). 

I don't want this to end.  It's been amazing.  And I promise (because I know you're dying to hear the recap) to come back and give you lots of unimportant details about our time at Walt Disney World. 

Another day. 

Until then...

[Slightly sweaty] Disney Greetings from my family to yours.

I'll be off counting fanny packs.  I'm up to 1,294.  Nope, wait!  The blue shirted lady on the right has one...1,295.  Sweet - might hit 1500 by the week's end!

Simple Pleasures - Homework, Really?

A couple of weeks ago, Ben came home with a baggie of soil, a styrofoam cup, and a couple of seeds. The instructions were to simply plant the seed, watch the seed sprout, document its growth, and bring it in to class  to present the plant at a "coffee house" for parents.

Well...let's just say that Ben has inherited his mother's brown thumb.

Houston, we have no germination.

Instead we have an empty, sad, styrofoam cup.

I realized this a few days ago, too late to do anything about it.  After thinking on it for a few days, that old adage came to me - the one that says something like the only time failure is a failure is if you don't learn something from it.  (This was after I considered digging up a plant sprout from our weed bed back yard and transplanting it into the cup, but that just didn't feel right.) So, I suggested to Ben that since he didn't have a plant to show off at the coffee house, maybe he could research and present some reasons why his seed may not have grown.

He was all over it.

I would even go so far as to say he was delighted to do it.  He set up a station at the kitchen table and while I went to scrounge up some flower stickers, he had already gotten as far as #4 before I could tell him how to correctly spell "enough".  (Side note:  I remember not knowing how to spell this exact word in 3rd grade.  I raised my hand and asked my teacher.  She said, "Just sound it out."  I was furious.  I knew that didn't work with "enough".  I spelled it "enuf", and I was mad as fire until I found out the correct spelling.  Type A much?)  It was almost exciting for me to watch him make his little presentation.

After he made his poster about why seeds don't grow, he moved on to researching various types of seeds, including acorns and pine cones, which we were able to find in our yard and at church.  (Thanks to procrastinating, these were our only seed collections.)  We wiki'd and googled and found out some fun facts about these two types of seeds.  Then, he wanted to research bees, but it was already late and I didn't want him monopolizing show-n-tell time.

Maybe we'll research bees later today.

Because hanging out with my boy, doing schoolwork, and seeing the twinkle in his eye as he soaked it all up is my simple pleasure this week.

Although, for the life of me, I have no idea why he referred to me as "mother".  This is a first - and I hope not a common thing.  I much prefer Mommy at this stage of life...

And while we're on the subject of homework, I'm throwing in a bonus simple pleasure - because my four year old, Abby, who emulates her big brother so much, takes it upon herself to do her own "homework" and adorn our fridge with it.  Seeing them have a passion for learning (and coloring in the lines) is just priceless.

 

Join us at Dayle's Simple Pleasures Party on A Collection of This and That.