On Becoming Unneccessary - or am I?

Today I had a lot of work to do in a relatively short time. Breklyn and I spent the morning working on our mother-in-law's present, so I had two projects to proof and one to type by 4. The kids and I got home from Breklyn's at noon. I gave Raiden a bottle, the kids lunch, put Raiden to bed, and rushed downstairs. I heard some crying, as per usual, and thought I'd need to come up and put Sasha down for a nap soon.

Before I could carry out my daring plan, Sabrina came downstairs by herself. Despite their fighting, the kids generally stay with each other. Sabrina is usually convincing Sasha to play tea party, watch TV, or go outside. I think she enjoys having someone to boss around, just like all oldest children (ahem). I asked Sabrina where Sasha was, and she said he was taking a nap. She had closed the door for him. Hum. Well, okay then. Tying the binkie to the bed really does make life better in all sorts of ways!

On the other hand, Sasha can't pour his own milk yet, so he needs me in the mornings. Phew.

I'm also needed in other ways. For example, Dear Zane has a most admirable goal of keeping the house somewhat humid. To that effect, he boils water on the stove. This works great. Until he loses track of time writing his book, stays up until 3 AM, and forgets about the water. Which has now all turned into steam, the pan is ruined (REALLY ruined), and there is impossible-to-remove black stuff in a 2-inch diameter around the stove coil. Where is my baking soda? I'll need a lot! It's gradually getting better, though. See? What would they do without me?

And, incidentally, happy birthday Sierra, who would have been 23 today. You are missed.

Michaels is not for Children

Yesterday, I needed to go to Michaels for a component of my mother-in-law's gift. Due to time and scheduling constraints, I took all three kids.

Bad mistake. But you knew that already, didn't you?

Sabrina and Sasha were literally rolling on the floor on top of each other. They were (also literally) running in circles around me. They were shrieking, screaming, and laughing. And then, because they were attacking each other with such gusto, they were crying.

Fortunately, the clientele at Michaels is all mothers and grandmothers. One refined looking septuagenarian laughed out loud at the kids' shenanigans. In hindsight, and even at the time, I appreciate her attitude, but I was too busy failing to corral my children, pushing a cart with Raiden in it, and CARRYING my purchase (it was too big to fit in the cart with Raiden even in the kid seat thingy) to truly appreciate the amusing points of my situation.

Anyway, I got out of there with my children intact, if not my sanity. Sabrina got hurt right before we got done, which was no surprise given their style of play, and I couldn't manage to give her a lot of sympathy. The best I could do was not say "See what happens when you are disobedient? Instant punishment! Yay Satan's plan!" But boy was I glad to get out of that store, lock down -- oops, buckle up -- my children, and peel rubber out of there.

Rise up and call him Blessed

If you want to suck up to your wife who can't tell the time and therefore was up until midnight last night, as well as at 5 with the baby, do the following:

Get up when the other kids wake up at the ungodly hour of 7:30 (remember about midnight and 5?).

When the baby wakes up, get up with him. Feed him bananas and a bottle.

Don't get your wife up until 9 (remember midnight and 5?)

And then your wife will rise up and call you blessed.


In other news, Sabrina dug her fingernails into Sasha's face. He was bleeding from one of the four scratch marks on his face. She got a stern talking-to, you'd better believe.

Mama's Boy

Raiden loves me. Not just a little, a lot. It's actually kind of flattering. Neither of my other kids was this attached to me. Sure, I had the milk, but they were happy to hang out with Daddy, at least.

When Zane is holding Raiden and he sees me, Raiden leans at me, pushes at Zane with one arm, and reaches desperately for me with the other. This morning Raiden was fussing and Zane brought him into our bed. He was perfectly happy, then he saw me. He ripped his fingers out of his mouth, squealed, smiled, and tried to wiggle toward me. It was enough to get me out of bed because hey, enthusiasm like that should be rewarded.

The other exciting thing Raiden has been doing is crawling. At 5 months! He's very advanced. Just in the last day he's been truly crawling instead of just getting up on all fours, rocking, falling down, and occasionally lunging forward (at me, naturally).

This talented mama's boy. Him so precious (to quote Big Sister).

Ninety....Eight Percent Boy

Sasha is a boy. For example: both he and Sabrina have one older brother. Sabrina, from time immemorial, has loved pink, princesses, baby dolls, and so on. Sasha makes guns and shoots badguys. He will brandish a stick/tinkertoy/finger at me and say, "I a SUPERHEWO. Kill da badguys. Pchooo pchooo." Sabrina does not make guns sounds.

Sasha is also physical. His default setting is "run," he was kicking a soccer ball before he could really walk, and he pushes his sister for fun. We bought a toy excavator at Costco that Santa will give him, and he held it all the way home. Twactow! he says, as we drive by a construction site.

So his answer when asked what he wanted for Christmas surprised me. "Pwincess bike," he said decisively. Zane was not amused. "How about a Diego bike?" Zane riposted. Frankly, Sasha's favorite show is Dora, so how about that?

On second thought, though, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. The first color Sasha learned was pink, and he always wants his fingernails and toenails painted. Having an older sister certainly has influenced him! Based on his other attributes, though, I'm convinced Sasha is simply secure in his masculinity and thinks painted fingernails looks tough.

Sick is Gross

Last night, looking distressed, Sabrina ran up to me. And proceeded to throw up on me three times. Poor baby. And also, gross. She had also thrown up on the stairs.

So, I cleaned up everything. Then I gave her some juice. After all, she'd also had diarrhea (she came running in: "I had diawwea!") and I was worried about dehydration and stuff. I put her to bed with a throw up bowl.

Then she threw up again. Pink throwup this time, since after four good vomits she only had juice in her stomach. Okay. Clean that up.

Because I had not learned, I was doomed to repeat my mistake. Here's some water, sweetie. Drink it slow. Annnnnd, more vomit. This time clear. Just stomach acid and water. Despite Sabrina's complaints about being thirsty, I denied her water. Which of you, if your daughter is thirsty, will give her a stone? Me, apparently.

Well, she threw up once more in the night, but she's better this morning. A six-hour flu. And while being a mom has its less glamorous moments, having her snuggled up beside me sure makes me happy.

Primary Program

Sabrina's first Primary program was the last Sunday in October. A few observations for your pleasure.

1. My daughter is the cutest child in the world. Hers was the first part of the Sunbeams. She said, "Jesus once was a wittow chiowd," with perfect poise. The next little girl said, with perfect diction, "A little child like me." Well, so what? Wittow chiowd is adorable!

2. When you have 11 o'clock church and Sacrament Meeting last, you should have treats for the kids before the program. Sabrina was perfect the first hour of church (practice), a little distracted by the second hour (practice), a full-on done by the third hour (performance). It's sad, because in the practice session she really knew the songs and actions, but she was Just. Done. Sugar would have gone a long way to making her more attentive.

3. 11 is way too old to do a program with 3-year-olds. That is all.

4. I'm going to love Primary programs for the next 11 years. Then they will get boring again unless I'm in the Primary or have grandchildren in Primary. That had better not happen for at least another 25 years or so (they have to be at least 3 to be in Primary, after all). I'd better enjoy it while I can!