Hats That Don't Fit

I wear a few hats around here: the Mommy Hat, the Wife Hat, the Teacher Hat, the Friend Hat. And I've worn lots of other hats over the years. Today I've put on a few hats that don't fit so well.

This morning I found myself in the 3s and 4s room at Sunday School. Alone because my husband was at home in bed (I'll get to that in a moment). I was in the 3s and 4s room by myself because I made a rash deal with a friend. We'll be on vacation on Sunday in a couple of weeks (if my husband is not still in bed, but like I said, I'll get to that in a moment) when we are supposed to be teaching our K-2nd grade class. Since I'm such a great volunteer, I decided to get a replacement instead of leaving the leaders hanging. So I traded weeks with a friend whose gifts obviously differ from mine greatly.

I know I've mentioned before that I am not a little kid person. I've never felt more strongly about this than I did this morning. There were only 9 of them. I've had 27 high school students in one class before. I even had one high school student who came in sporting his house arrest ankle thingy. But these were 3 and 4-year-olds.

It took a good 15 mintues to get them all sitting at their little mini-table. Once I would get two of them sitting and turn to round up the other 7, the two would escape. I finally got them all seated and tried the ol' "Let me see your listening ears" thing that works beautifully with my kindergarteners. Blank stares. And lots of fidgets. And noise. I passed out paper to dutifully complete the Bible lesson. They were supposed to draw stick figure disciples, but before the words "stick" and "figures" could escape my mouth, most of them had already scribbled all over the paper. I tried in vain to get them to flip the paper over for the stick figures. More scribbles. I told the Bible story very loudly to myself. Then broke out the Goldfish. Magic. Quiet for a few minutes.

Until the potty breaks began. I sent the first one in to the bathroom. A few minutes passed, and then I heard, "Will you help meee???!" I went in to the bathroom. "Can you wipe me?" "Can't you wipe yourself?" I asked, while my head voice said, Please, oh please, can't you wipe yourself?? "But it's poo-poo!" Oh. No. Not. Poo. Poo.

OK, confession time. In my whole life, I have only ever changed one poo poo diaper that was not my own kids'. With other people's kids, I don't do poo poo. I can't do poo poo. PLEASE don't make me do poo poo. It was indeed poo poo. I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath, tried to only look well enough to wipe and went in.

I made it. Then the same kid came up to me a little later on. "I have a booger." Are you kidding me??! I handed her a Kleenex. She stared at me blankly. I wiped her nose.

NOW do you see why I chose to go into secondary education? Please, please don't ever make me wear the 3s and 4s hat again.

The other hat I tried to squeeze into today is that of the Real Wife. You know, the wife that provides healthy meals everyday for her family? My husband is in bed. Flat out due to a herniated disk which has almost completely debilitated him. If you'll remember, he's the cook in the family. Really, I can cook, and I do cook when he's traveling. But to provide meals for him too? Well, mac and cheese just doesn't cut it for him. It's a little intimidating to cook for him. There I said it. There's nothing else about my sweet, wonderful husband that intimidates me but that.

So I've been planning meals for the week, always thinking in the back of my head that his brother may show up for dinner tomorrow night. Which is even more intimidating. I may cook gourmet pizza a la Little Caesars just to get out of it. I'm hoping and praying his back feels better soon so that I can hang the Real Wife Hat up. And so we can go on our planned Florida vacation. Oh, and so he's not in so much pain anymore either.

Desperate Reading Measures

Before this second half of the school year began, I resolved to make reading the focus for the remainder of our academic time here at the home academy. This focus has really paid off. Alex of course still continues to devour any book she can get her hands on. For Jacob, something clicked seemingly overnight, and he is well on his way to becoming a successful reader. As for Michael, he has improved a whole lot as well; the only obstacle he still has to overcome is his general dislike of reading, an attitude that is difficult for me to understand and therefore near impossible for me to "fix". I guess that's what attracted me to How to Get Your Child to Love Reading by Esme Raji Codell. It's really a book for classroom teachers or for parents with children in a traditional school, but I was able to glean a lot of wonderful ideas from it, and it makes a great resource for any teacher's bookshelf.

Although some of Ms. Codell's ideas--like making a Time Machine--are certainly more "classroom-y", our Reading Corner was an offspring idea from her brainstorming. I took over a corner of the family room, set up a comfy chair, and placed a huge basket beside it that is now crammed full of books and books on tape/CD. Perhaps the biggest allure of the Reading Corner is that as soon as a child is seated in the chair, I serve him or her a special snack to munch on while reading. Since food is otherwise prohibited anywhere but at the table, this is quite a novel idea and thus a huge draw for them. Regardless of the true reason they fight over who goes first in the Reading Corner, they are nevertheless spending a half hour each day reading on their own.

One other idea I wrestled with for quite some time. I heard about the Captain Underpants series back when I taught second grade. I was then appalled by such titles as "Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants." However, that was before I realized I had a struggling reader. And a struggling reader who giggles at the mere mention of underwear or poop. While the Captain Underpants series goes against all I value as an English teacher and lover of good literature and all I strive for as a well-mannered mommy, I knew the series was a match for my boys.

So I ordered five of them, and they came yesterday afternoon. The boys couldn't wait to get to them after basketball and showers. Funny thing is the boy for whom I really bought these books said they look too hard for him to read and thus did not even try. Instead, he quickly settled for letting his little brother read the good parts to him....while he zoomed around the house in his skivvies and a cape (sorry--these pictures are reserved for my scrapbook only...and perhaps the wedding rehearsal dinner of a certain young man). I suppose I shouldn't be so critical of books about poop; I did, after all, once write my own little potty book.

Is it Really THIS Easy?

For 8 1/2 years I've been up to my elbows in poop. There was even a brief--yet very lengthy--six months in there where we had THREE in diapers. It was like a poop assembly line every day. Seriously. Now there's this fourth little one to contend with. The Princess. I've made two short-lived, feeble attempts at potty training the little diva: The first attempt was right before the cruise; I gave up before the day ended. The second attempt occurred a couple months ago; and, well, I got a little distracted by the camera.

This time around, I'm committed. I started on Monday. Four days later...she's in big girl panties! She got a package of brand new princess (of course!) panties today, and she couldn't be more excited. She's worn at least three pairs today...not because she's had any accidents, but because she'd really like to try them all out. In fact, she's been tucked in for the night clutching her blankie, her special teddy bear...and her half-empty package of big girl panties. She was a bit put out that I had the nerve to put a diaper on her before bed, but she will doubtless fall asleep with visions of princess panties dancing through her head.

And I'm just crossing my fingers that this really is the real deal. Because, well, can it really be THIS easy?

Swamp Gas

Jacob has a little stomach bug. He was sitting on the pot this evening before bed yelling, "Ewww...swamp gas!"

Potty Training

I promise life around here does NOT completely revolve around the Princess. At least not fully 100% of the time. I love each of my children equally. I love different things about each of my unique children, but I love them all equally. And I think each of them is cute, beautiful, handsome, pretty. I do have one admission, however: one of them is just a tad bit more photogenic than the others. And I can say that because not only am I the mom, but I am so NOT photogenic, I'm just a bit jealous. Anyway, the following pictures were taken while, believe it or not, she was on the potty trying to earn her bribe reward (a boppy-pop, what else?!).

The Big Log

(Alex stole authorship, which I don't mind...although I did point it out to her!)

The Big Log

Soon it will be time to go on the big boat. The rules say if a baby is not potty trained, she cannot go in the pool on the big boat.

Mommy said, "It is time to potty train the baby." So Mommy took the baby's pants off and showed her the potty.

Illustration by Michael

Mommy forgot about Baby. Mommy went to take a shower. Soon Michael yelled, "Mommy, will you come? She smells!"

Mommy said, "In a moment." Mommy did not come fast. Mommy began to dry her hair. Then Mommy stopped. Hmmm. Baby had no pants on. Uh oh!

Mommy found Baby in the boys' room. On the rug, Baby had left a big log of poop.

Illustration by Alex

Mommy had to smile. It was funny. The boys smiled. Alex smiled. Daddy smiled. It was funny. Mommy cleaned up the mess.

Illustration by Jacob

Then Mommy had class in the room with tile. The baby sat on the potty then got up and peed on the tile. Jacob said, "Baby, you must not pee on the tile. You must stay here. If you are not here, you can hold it until you get to your pot."

It was not yet lunchtime. Baby had peed on the tile six times. Mommy did not like to mop the tile. It was not funny now.

Mommy put Baby's pants back on. Mommy said maybe Baby will not swim on the big boat.

Special Sounds (Clue Words): oo (tooth), e (me), o (go), y (baby), -ed (played), ow (bowl), er (verse), th (this), sh (ship), ow (owl), sm (smile), st (stop), dr (drum) air (hair), -ed (looked), ou (out), oy (boy), cl (clock), th (thick), ay (pray), ch (church), u (push), ck (duck)

Sight Words: to, the, a, is, said, you, come, uh oh, was, here, are, your

Her Royal Highness on the Throne

She doesn't say more than 3 or 4 words. But she understands everything. And, if it weren't for the fact that I'm more than willing to admit that sometimes diapers are just easier, I'd have her potty trained by now. Audrey has for weeks now been very cognizant of what's in her diaper. As soon as the deed is done, she pats her bottom and mumbles something to me that is a cross between "diaper" and "poop." She immediately wants to be changed and will obediently march into the family room where her diapers are, hand one to me, and lie down.

One day a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in my room reading. Audrey was playing her daily game of Pull Piglet off of the Winnie-the-Pooh Lamp. Suddenly she stopped for a few minutes. I could tell it was going to be a stinky one, and I waited momentarily for the customary bottom pat and Audrey-speak. But she turned around and marched out of my room. I resumed reading knowing from having had three in diapers at once that it's really OK if they sit in it for a few minutes. I looked up again when I heard her little feet padding up to my door. And suddenly there she stood gripping the wipes box in one hand and clutching a diaper in the other. She was all smiles and pride.

Most recently, her pottty escapades have put her on the actual potty; well, not the actual potty, but the mini-potty. She gets so tickled with herself when she's on her mini-throne, and she'd like the whole world to come in and admire the show. As soon as she sat down tonight, she pointed to the door and said, "Da-da?" indicating that she'd be much obliged if I would page her Daddy so he could voice his pride in his little princess as well.

As soon as the show was over (and it was truly a show since there was no output), she got up and climbed up on the stool to admire herself in the mirror. And that's when she went...