Teachers Beware!

I taught in a preschool classroom for five years.  In that amount of time, I have learned countless lessons about life.  Today I will share one with you:

Don't judge parents by the actions of their children!

I'm not even talking about the major things at center time or recess.  I am not bring up hitting, kicking, biting, or the other big no-no's in a school.  No, today is something far worse...something that I think all kids must do at one time or another. 

I used to sit in front of the class of 20 kids, holding a puppet in one hand, turning the pages of a big book with the other; all while keeping my eye out for the "unthinkable." I was always amazed that the most darling, prim and proper little girl would do the "unthinkable."  I remember thinking to my self, "Oh how gross!  How can a little girl be so cute, but have such poor manners?  Aren't her parents embarrassed?!"

Teachers, I know many of you have just started back into the classroom for the year.  The school supplies still have that new smell.  The kids are just learning the routines and rules of the classroom.  Please remember the life lesson above.  You never know when the tables will be turned.

Here's when the roles reversed for me.  I was sitting on the edge of Twiggy's bed while she perused the countless books in her nighttime routine.  I was gazing at her, admiring her sweet little features, and thinking about how blessed Kee and I were.  That's when Twiggy did the "unthinkable!"  What is the "unthinkable?" Oh, you have all seen it!  It makes your stomach turn!  She placed her bubblegum pink painted finger inside her nose...and you guessed it...then put her finger in her mouth!  I can hardly write it, because it upsets my stomach! 

Me: What are you doing?
Twiggy: Nothing....
Me: Don't pick your nose!  And definitely DO NOT eat it!
Twiggy: Why? (It had never occurred to her that this was not what you do)
Me: It is gross! And it will give you a belly ache! (I was pulling at strings...when in doubt threaten sickness)
Twiggy: Mom!  I didn't chew it!

I was so grossed out, but it made me laugh at the same time.  Never did I dream that it would be my sweet, sweet Twiggy who would partake in the "unthinkable."  I'm just hoping she doesn't take her hobby to story time! 

Lessons from Bob the Painter

In a hunt for ways to spruce up our new home, Kee asked his coworkers for names of painters that they'd recommend.  That night Kee came home with a scrap of paper that said, "Fat Bob the Painter...(XXX)-XXX-9468."

There are many lessons to be learned from the contractor that we have hired to paint our new house.  Many of these lessons can be applied to your own career or job hunt.

1. Create a Name for Yourself
Bob came highly recommended from several of Kee's coworkers.  Funny thing is that they all referred to him as "Fat Bob."  Strange, I thought, and kind of rude.  I called the number that was given to Kee and left a voicemail.  About 9:45 that same night during a tornado watch, Bob called me back.

"Hey! It's Bob...the fat, old painter."

So that's why they call him that.  Everytime Bob enters the house or calls me, he says that same tag line.

It's even to the point that one day in the car I heard Twiggy singing, "Bob the fat painter...he can paint it!"  I have had several conversations with both her and Kee pleading them to stop calling him "Fat Bob."

2. Be Prepared at the Interview

Bob came to give us an estimate on Thursday at 2:00.  By 4:00 he was back at the house with a gallon of my chosen color and a gallon of white ceiling paint.

3. Show them Something They Can't Live Without
Like I said, Bob wasn't even hired yet when he came back to my house with the paint. In a matter of a half hour he spread out drop cloths and painted half of my kitchen ceiling and one wall in my kitchen.  I stood in amazement at the ease in which he trimmed without painter's tape.  It looked great!  He was such a professional! 
He wiped the paint from his hands onto his plaid shorts and said, "You just call me tomorrow and tell me if I'm hired or fired."
Then it hit me...I had to hire this guy.  First off, he was such a great painter.  Second, I couldn't live with a half painted ceiling and one painted wall in my kitchen!

4. Dress the Part

Now be careful with this one.  I guess what I mean is that Bob dresses like a painter.  He is a 66 year old man with a very typical physique.  His "uniform" consists of paint splattered shorts and white wife-beater tanks.

5. Compliments are Always Appreciated

Bob pulled into the drive in his green SUV with a silver Jesus fish emblem on the back hatch.  Carrying a rusty old ladder, he stops to meet my kids.  He plays peek-a-boo for several minutes with Z.  Then he takes one look at Twiggy and says,  "S@&T, she's beautiful!" 

Now I would definitely suggest avoiding the expletive-strung speech, but truthfully it made me smile.  A compliment is always nice if it is good-hearted.

6. Keep Your Employer Engaged

Now Bob likes conversation.  I think he likes it almost as much as he likes painting.  Countless times he has asked me, "Have you figured me out yet? Have you figured out that I'm a character?"  After talking with all my house cleaning helpers, I realize I am not the only one that he has posed this question to.  Honestly, Bob, I knew you were a character from day one! 

7. Share What You've Got

Bob is eager to share everything with you, whether it is his expertise or his lunch!  He started painting with his dad when he was six years old. He is quick to tell me why he is doing something a certain way or is offering me a free painting lesson.  Don't worry, I haven't taken him up on the lessons...I feel that would just ruin his beautiful work!  When he's not attempting to give painting lessons, he is trying to give away his food.  Everyday he brings a bunch of grapes in a plastic bag, a hunk of Longhorn cheese wrapped in plastic wrap, a bologna sandwich, and three Hershey's Chocolate Bars.  "Hey now, help yourself to some grapes or chocolate...seriously take some," Bob tells anyone walking by the room. 

7. Make Your Employer Feel Like They are Number One

Bob is sure to put our material bills and notebook paper bills in a hidden drawer in our house.  He cautions, "Now, I don't just do this for anyone."  When I'm contemplating painting a ceiling or tackling another room, he'll say, "Now you know I'm not coming back. H$#L I'm supposed to be retired."

Bob aced the interview.  He will get an excellent evaluation and will be missed when the job is done. And once again someone will be talking over lunch and asking about painters in the area.  We'll scribble a note on a piece of paper and hand it over in confidence.  It will read: "Fat Bob the Painter...(XXX)-XXX-9468"

Rocky Road?

We had a lovely Memorial Day weekend, even though it didn't go as planned.  We had high hopes of relaxing, purchasing things for our new home, and just getting out of town for a little bit.  Most of our plans came to fruition in one way or another...but there were definitely some speed bumps.

I had in my mind to go and do something fun...like decor shopping for our house.  I wanted to get up and go early Saturday.  When we realized we'd be stuck at Uncle's waiting for the sewer situation to be fixed for a second time, I had to come up with a plan B.  After a visit from a plumber and a county employee, we went to grab a bite to eat at our local Chinese buffet. 

 I have never been a big fan of buffets, and in particular this one has haunting memories.  If you are squeamish, don't worry this story has nothing to do with the cleanliness or the state of the food.  Instead, the name of the restaurant always conjurs up vivid memories of a tornadic temper tantrum my daughter had there when she was about 2 years old.  We were sitting in a booth when Twiggy refused to sit down.  After several "reminders", I took her out to the van for a time-out.  Boy-oh-boy did she howl.  After we both calmed down, I brought Twiggy back into the restaurant.  Immediately upon seeing the booth, she began screaming.  Kee was fed up! He jutted out his arms to remove Twiggy's flailing body from me.  And yes, about this time, we gained an audience of people who were enjoying their heaping plates of lo mein.  As Kee began to step back away from me, I grabbed his arms and told him, "No...no!  Stop!"  I guess he thought I was protesting to his impending discipline, because he gave me a stern look and continued to pull Twiggy from me.  What he didn't realize is that Twiggy had wrapped her tiny fingers all through the underside of my thick hair!  She was pulling it out by the roots!

Well, this visit to the fine establishment was no different with the exception of a new character.  Z!  Our darling little boy is now almost 15 months old.  Let me just say he is giving us a run for our money these days!  Fifteen minutes into dinner, he forfeited the use of his fork as an eating utensil and began using it as a projectile.  I have never seen a children throw so much food in such a short amount of time!  The people within a five foot radius were all in the "splash zone" of my son's food storm mingled with metal dinnerware.  I'm not sure why Kee and I thought that after this spectacle, we'd try our hand at taking two small children to the movies.  Maybe we were a little light-headed from leaning under the table picking up all that rice!

Armed with a bag full of illegal snacks (Cheerios, strawberry wafers, twizzlers, fruit snacks) we got our tickets to see Rio!  Please do not comment about how cute the movie is or about the ending as I obviously was not able to see it!  Thinking we were smart, we sat in the back and began shoveling popcorn at our little man.  Twiggy was into the movie, she danced during the songs and giggled at the funny parts.  Kee and I juggled Z throughout the hour and fifteen minutes that we lasted (I'm pretty impressed that we made it that long).  He let out little yells and did his signature "get out of your arms" move.  Some kids go "boneless" where their little bodies go limp making it difficult for an adult to keep ahold of them.  Not Z, he throws his boulder of a head backward and arches his back while simultaneously kicking his legs.  It has to be experienced to be understood!  We called it quits when the beloved sippy cup was tossed and rolled all the way down to the bottom of the packed theater. 

Sunday was a hopeful new day.  We woke early in hopes to travel an hour away to shop in some home stores. At Target, Z once again decided to display his true colors.  He refused to sit in the cart....but also refused to be held. We made it to one more store, but Kee and I were wore out.  We felt like  rodeo clowns trying to distract a raging bull.  We cut our trip short, thinking naps at home would do the trick.  After everyone was well-rested (meaning our rambunctious toddler now had even more energy), we decided to meet some friends at the park.  Z and Twiggy laughed and had a great time.  I got my exercise chasing Z up and down the play equipment.  We all needed rewarded with a little ice cream.

We all piled out of our vehicles, mouths watering at the ice-cream stand.  My friend and I gave our orders to our husbands as we made our way with our children to the picnic tables.  My friend has four children...the best behaved children in the world.  I am not just comparing them to mine...I mean every child in the world!  Her husband brought over all the melting cones.  Their children dutifully began eating their dripping icecream, sure to seek napkins when needed.  Even the tiniest, 13 months old, sat in front of her mommy and awaited bites of the cold treat.  Now enter my husband.  Two dripping cones and one bowl of icecream for Z.  Immediately Twiggy protested that she wanted hers in a bowl.  I swap her the bowl for the kiddie cone.  I chase Z down and offer him a bite, but his mouth is already full.  Full of what you might ask....rocks!  Surely after a quick finger-sweep, he'd want to eat the ice-cream.  Nope...as fast as he could he found more rocks to shove in his mouth.  Repeat...repeat...repeat.  I threw the cone away and resorted to managing the situation.  Kee later told me that everyone around us was pointing and laughing. 

Sometimes I think back at how life was simpler when it was just Kee and I.  We could go to the movies, eat dinner out, and actually eat our ice-cream.  Would I change it?  Never!  Sometimes even though life with kids is a Rocky Road ;), it is definitely more fulfilling than our previously vanilla life!

Gypsy Children

Sunday before church we realized there was a major problem at Uncle's house.  None of the drains in his house were draining.  In fact, the bath tubs were filling up with water from different drains!  This is never a good sign.  A plumber came to the house that afternoon, but said that a specialist would need to come out.  At that point, knowing nothing could be done on a Sunday evening, Kee and I decided that I'd need to find a place for the kids and I to stay for a few nights.

Hastily we packed up the van with various suitcases, the pack n' play, diapers, and the kids.  Off I went to my mom's house an hour away.  She wasn't going to be home for the next few days, but luckily I tracked down a key.  The kids were pretty sad that their "Go-Go" wasn't home to visit with, but it made me feel a little less guilty about the take-over we were about to perform.  Along with the kids, I also brought a week's worth of laundry.  I felt like a college student lugging home our dirty duds to mommy.

I took the kids to Wal-mart to buy a little food for the few nights that we'd be spending at my mom's.  Twiggy and I watched VCR tapes that my sister and I had as kids.  Kinsley got all dolled up in the dress-up clothes and Z ran around like a wild man. We actually enjoyed our time away, aside from living out of suitcases (which we are getting quite used to doing).

During our second evening, the kids and I went to a park to burn off some energy on the playground.  Once the kids were sweaty and dirty, we made our way back to Go-Go's house.  From the backseat a very quiet, yet concerned voice asked, "Mommy, where are we gonna sleep tonight?"

Poor kid!  Even I was getting confused!  Soon, my dear Twiggy, we will have our own house to go home to!  No longer will we be gypsies!

Rompin' and Wrastlin'

People often ask Kee and I if it is awkward living with our friend.  Or they ask, "So how's the month going there?"  I have to say that our answer may be different than Uncle's.  Truth be told, we don't get to see much of our friend.  We may see him for fifteen minutes in the mornings before work and then an evening a week or so.  It's no secret, I think he's avoiding us!

Actually, he says that he'll get home around 10:00 in the evening and is shocked when we are all in bed.  Believe me, if both my kids are sleeping then I try to be too! It has gotten to the point that Uncle and his girlfriend "T" have to schedule times to come visit with us and the kids to avoid our strict bedtimes.

My kids love playing and rough-housing with Uncle and T.  Twiggy especially has taken a liking to T and will overwhelmingly be glued to her side from the minute she walks in the door until we have to peel her off of T at bedtime. 

This is what a typical visit with my kids looks like:
Uncle and T will greet both Twiggy and Z.  Twiggy will not even say hello but instead will immediately ask, "Hey T, want to play Duck, Duck, Goose?" (Tell me what adult likes to play this game?)  T will always graciously comply.  Twiggy will tell her where to sit and who to tag.  Next will be a game of I Spy, then maybe a few coloring pages at all the adults request for a respite of peace.  And then usually Twiggy wants to play Duck, Duck, Goose again.  Poor T!

One evening I think Kee was feeling a bit guilty at how bossy our daughter was being, so he tried to play with her to give T a break. Kee and Twiggy romped and rolled on the carpet the way that only daddies can play.  Squeals and laughter filled the room.  Z tried climbing on top of the moving pile.  We thought we found a solution that would maybe give T a chance to actually sit on the couch and breathe for a minute.

As Twiggy rolls over Kee she yells, "T!  T!  Come wrastle this guy!"

T couldn't answer because she was laughing.

Twiggy coaxes,"Come on...come touch him!"

I think T's better judgement told her that if she participated in this wrestling match there would be some awkward lunches at work the next week, so she refrained from "putting the smack down" on my husband (her words :) ))

That evening as T gathered her things so Uncle could drive her home, Kee told both of them, "Thanks for coming over.  Come back soon!"  I'm sure Uncle appreciates those little comments, like we own the place. 

Surprisingly they keep coming back!  Uncle did say that he and T now realize why Kee and I are exhausted and are in bed by 10 every night!

Leaving our Mark

As most of you know, we are spending the month of May living with our friend until our house is ready. Our friend, who we'll call "Uncle" (that is what Twiggy calls him), has a beautiful home. He has been gracious enough to allow our family of four to pretty much overtake his quiet quarters.

In just a few hours of moving in, our furniture and toys overtook almost every room of his house.  Uncle's refrigerator was quickly filled with gallons of whole milk, apple juice, and baby yogurts.  His pantry was stuffed with graham crackers, Cheerios, Pop-tarts, and fruit snacks.  Kee's shoes littered his mudroom creating an obstacle course for anyone traveling through it.

Kee and I were so nervous that our two lovely children would destroy Uncle's pristine home.  During our first meal, Twiggy was eating pizza and jumped up, grabbed one of the white columns in the dining room, and spun around.  My heart sank as I could just envision red pizza sauce smeared perfectly around the crisp white architecture.  Luckily, her hands were clean!

Z has left countless finger and nose prints on the windows.  Umm...he may even have licked one or two.

But in the end it wasn't Twiggy....or Z....or even me that made their mark on Uncle's life as he knew it.  It was Kee.  It was day four of our stay when we made pasta for dinner.  Kee thought he'd help me out, so he served up the noodles on paper plates.  Hindsight would suggest that washing the dishes would have caused less heartache.  When it was time to clear the table, we noticed these awful white marks.  The hazy marks didn't wipe clean!  We burned the table! 

After fessing up to Uncle, we did the only thing we could think of...we Googled solutions.  We first tried Pledge and Old English.  Nope...nothing!  We (Uncle and I, not Kee) smeared Miracle Whip over the white spots.  Still no luck!  There was only one last internet suggestion that everyone swore by.  They suggested taking an iron set to the steam setting and placing it on a white cloth over the burn.  As you can see from the photo below, this was a no go for us.

Perfect iron mark

Uncle laughed about the whole situation.  He said,"If this is the worse thing that happens this month, then we'll be good.  Unfortunately I had to remind him that we weren't even a week into our stay!  

It's All Relative

Since my children's first few pediatrician appointments, I've been banking on the fact that they just have to have lots of brains!  Twiggy was never on the charts for weight, made it to the tenth percentile for height, and 80th percentile for head circumference!  While Z eats like a horse, he has pretty much followed in his big sister's footsteps. At his last check-up, he was in the 17th percentile for weight, 22nd percentile for height, and brace yourself...the 92nd percentile for head circumference!  He was only a few inches taller than his head circumference! 

Day to day, I don't really notice my children's large noggins compared to their itty bitty bodies.  Sometimes though, circumstances draw attention to this detail.

Take a look at this photo of my friends darling babies with my son.  Z is on the far right.  Just compare his head size with the boy on the left.  Z is only a week older than him!  It almost looks like Z was super-imposed in the picture...but trust me...no Photoshopping here!

For a solid two weeks, Z would daily manage to get his head stuck when hiding under our bar stools. 

I came upon Twiggy a few weeks ago like this. 

Me: "Honey, what are you doing?"

Twiggy: "Trying to get dressed."

Me: "Why did you step into your shirt?"

Twiggy: "I couldn't get it to fit over my head."

Sometimes I too get a panicked feeling when dressing and undressing the kids when it comes time to get those snug collars over their heads.

Well, today was another moment when attention is called to those high percentile heads.  We were lunching at Wendy's when a mother and her son sat at the table next to us.  The baby was probably a month or two younger than Z.  Twiggy kept staring at the baby. 

She very loudly and matter-of-factly stated: "That baby has a wittle head!"

A little embarrassing.  The child had a very proportionate head to his body.  I guess it is all relative!