Frequently when I find myself yelling out one of our household rules to the whirling dervish that is my pile of rowdy, wrestling boys, I think to myself, “Oh my gosh that is so a rule for a house of boys.” Or even (I’m not too ashamed to admit) “That is so a rule for a mom who just can’t deal.”

Yep, that’s me. A mother to a three- and an almost-two-year-old, with another on the way. Who hopes that this baby isn’t her last – even though she generally thinks herself incapable of dealing with her household’s current level of noise and activity.

Here’s a list of the rules I find myself repeating on a not-irregular basis. It may be long, but it’s far from exhaustive. (Fifty-three, schmifty-three – I’m sure I could come up with dozens more.)

What would you add?

1. No sitting on your brother’s head.
2. No standing on any part of your brother’s body.
3. You may not ride on your brother’s back, even if he is pretending to be a horse. (Though sometimes I make an exception when the little guy is the one doing the riding, because it’s just so darned cute.)
4. No rough-housing on the stairs.
5. No rough-housing on Mommy.
6. Do not cover your brother with pillows and then lay on him. (I ignore most mid-wrestling cries/screams, but I respond quickly to the muffled ones.)
7. No sitting or standing on tables.
8. No jumping off of tables.
9. No climbing on bookcases.
10. No climbing onto the TV console.
11. No bringing spiders into the house.
12. No bringing rocks into the house.
13. No throwing rocks at your brother.
14. No throwing anything inside the house.
15. No moving chairs, boxes, etc. to give yourself access to up-high things Mommy doesn’t want you to have.
16. No moving any other furniture either.
17. No whining in the kitchen.
18. No large toys in the kitchen.
19. No baskets of toys in the kitchen. (Can you tell where I spend most of my day?)
20. No lying between Mommy’s feet while she’s cooking.
21. No refusing to eat food that you specifically requested that Mommy make for you.
22. Yes, you must actually be sitting (not standing, not kneeling) on your chair during mealtime.
23. No toys on the kitchen table.
24. No roaring at the table.
25. No making monster noises at the table.
26. No making siren noises at the table. (My parents used to have a “no singing at the table” rule, so I don’t feel at all bad about these last few.)
27. No climbing onto the kitchen counter.
28. Do not touch scissors.
29. Do not touch knives.
30. Do not touch the toaster.
31. Do not stick knives into the toaster while trying to turn it on. (Yes, that one happened.)
32. Do not sit on the dishwasher door.
33. Nevermind – don’t even touch the dishwasher.
34. Do not open the refrigerator door without a parent’s permission.
35. Do not leave the refrigerator door open.
36. Do not put your toys in the refrigerator.
37. Until you’re old enough to wash them, do not put your hands into the dirty dishes.
38. Any toy/cup/piece of food you drop into the dish-filled sink shall remain there.
39. Do not play with the trash can.
40. Any toy/piece of food you drop into the trash can shall remain there.
41. Do not open the nozzle to the Brita container and let the water drain all over the floor. (Yes, that one happened too.)
42. You are only allowed into the bathroom to relieve yourself.
43. You may not unwind the entire toilet paper roll, even if you try to wind it back up.
44. You may not fill the bathroom sink with toilet paper, turn the water on full-blast, and leave it running until the water overflows.
45. When you do the above, you may not run away like nothing happened, so that Mommy is alerted to the mess by the sound of water splashing onto the floor.
46. When Mommy is on the phone, you must either remain quiet around her or go into another room.
47. If you insist on roaring/screaming/cackling/otherwise loudly chasing Mommy through the house while she’s on the phone, she will escape upstairs, past the baby gates and beyond your reach.
48. Temper tantrums will be ignored and/or removed to someplace away from Mommy.
49. Yes, you have to be nice to your brother.
50. No, your brother does not have to kiss you.
51. No, your brother does not have to let you kiss him.
52. But yes, you do have to give your Mommy a goodnight hug. It is important to have your last interaction of the day be a sweet one.
53. Daddy does bedtime.

They are somehow so much cuter when they’re between Daddy’s feet.

As I missed doing my “7 Quick Takes Friday” and my “Monday Morning Miscellany” last week, today I find myself overflowing with tidbits to share with you good people. I may even have to split them into a couple of posts, because too much miscellany is just… silly. We’ll see.

— 1 —

Brennan and I attended a wedding on Friday evening, which was held at the same waterfront location as our own wedding reception. It was so much fun to be back to the place where, four years ago, we had our first dance and our first meal as a married couple, and where we enjoyed the company of our family and friends on that momentous day.

This go-round was much more relaxing, I’ll have you know. It was great to get to enjoy the view and the delicious food (Lobster bisque served in martini glasses! Woo-hoo!) and laughs with friends, minus all the logistics swirling around in my brain. I love hosting, but sometimes it’s really nice to just be a guest.

— 2 —

Aren’t new babies the absolute sweetest? Yesterday we visited my best friend Catey and her crew to meet their newest addition. My almost-two-year-old threw a rather impressive meltdown and reacted with wild cries of “No baby!” when I held the tiny bundle. And my three-year-old made enough noise to make Catey’s downstairs neighbors likely want to evict her. But other than that, the visit was great.

I captured the one moment of their play that was peaceful.

He finally warmed up to the little guy.

Sweetness

— 3 —

Oh, just one more thing about the new-baby visit. As per custom and the bonds of friendship and Auntie Leila’s advice, I brought with me a dinner for Catey’s family. It was a homemade lasagna, which I lovingly prepared at my place the night before and assembled at Catey’s. It’s a delicious recipe, if I do say so myself. (Not that I can take credit for the recipe, which is “Hearty Meat Lasagna” from “The New Best Recipe” from the editors of Cook’s Illustrated.) Anyway, normally I hand it over and smile and say, “Enjoy!” But this time I had to temper my “Enjoy!” with, “But please look carefully at each bite you’re taking because it might contain bits of plastic.”

When I was preparing the lasagna the night before, I made a double batch so we could have one at my house too. As my husband eagerly dug into it at dinnertime, he found two small pieces of plastic. And then when I was eating leftovers on Sunday night, I found a third. They resemble the plastic that covered the meat or the ricotta containers, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out how that could have made it into the lasagna. I’m stumped! And I worry for all of our digestive systems! (But not so much that I’ve considered throwing the lasagna out. It’s way too good for that.) My only comfort is that, so far, Catey reports that their lasagna has been plastic-free.

— 4 —

Warning: This is one that probably no one will care about but myself. Nobody wants to read about other people’s aches and pains, right? So feel free to skip right over. I only include it because I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about this problem. So, on the blog it goes!

While lying in bed the other night, trying to get comfortable, I had an idea for an invention that would improve my life dramatically. You see, I have these two stupid, stubborn physical flaws/defects/problems/whatever that get in my way:

On the one hand (literally), I have this pinched nerve in my neck, which travels all the way down my arm to my hand. When I lie on my right side, or trap my right arm under myself in any way, or even hold my arm in anything but the one most ideal, relaxing position for it, my hand falls asleep. And if I don’t catch it in time, my whole arm falls asleep. Which is really painful. The only way I can avoid this is to lie on my left side, with my right arm stretched out just right.

But on the other hand, I have this stupid hip thing. The joint at the base of my spine, between my hips, is very easily put out of whack. Which is also really painful. During the day (per my old physical therapist’s instructions), I put a lot of effort into protecting the joint by moving around in a very deliberate, balanced way. (Which makes me look rather geriatric, I’m sure.)

The sleeping on the left side thing, however, is messing up my hips! The pressure from sleeping on that one side, all night, every night, is affecting the joint in such a way that I have difficulty walking when I wake up. And I have pain. Not from doing something irresponsible with my back, mind you – but from sleeping. It’s maddening! I suppose I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

That’s where the invention (the out-there, weirdo invention) comes in. What if I could sleep in some device that supported me in a cushion of air? What if I could program it with the exact position I wanted to sleep in, and then it could – seemingly like magic – keep me there, without causing undue pressure on my arms or my hips, etc.? I have no real idea as to how such a thing would actually be accomplished, but I do know that if it were, my body would be supremely grateful. Wouldn’t it be amazing to not be woken every night by the pain of my arm and hand falling asleep – and also to be able to walk without pain every morning? A girl can dream…

— 5 —

That was long. Here’s a cute picture from last night to make up for it. They’re giving each other rides on top of the cooler.

— 6 —

Speaking of “damned” (it’s up there toward the end of #4), we went to visit my parents a week ago and took an alternate route to get to them. It involved driving over a dam, so I explained to the boys what a dam was and told them to look out for the different levels of water on each side of it. Our three-year-old was fascinated. He loved it. And he went on to talk about it (on and on and on) as “that dam bwidge.” Days later it was still popping up in his conversation, innocent little mentions of “that dam bwidge” at random times. I won’t deny giggling every time he said it.

— 7 —

And speaking of inventions (also in #4), I have one more idea to share with you. I’ve been thinking about this one for a long time. You know how nice-ish housing developments (at least in this part of the country) seem to always have some kind of unnecessary room on their floor plans, which look great on paper, but nobody seems to use (at least not for their intended purpose)? Maybe it’s a breakfast room when there’s already an eat-in kitchen; maybe it’s a sun room; maybe it’s a sitting room in the master bedroom; maybe it’s a home theater. Maybe it’s as simple as the formal living room or dining room. Whatever it is, the designated purpose for the room is rather unnecessary and the room often gets left by the wayside.

You know what would be so much better for families with children, at least? A padded room. A padded, bouncy room where mom can send the kids at 5pm while she’s making dinner. Or where the kiddos can go for exercise when it’s too rainy/snowy/cold to send them outside. A place for the children to just go and be as wild and crazy as they like, with minimal chances of hurting themselves or the contents of the house. Wouldn’t that be amazing? I’ve spent an obscene amount of time fantasizing about it.

And the padded/bouncy room wouldn’t just have to be for new construction homes. You know those commercials where companies advertise their ability to add a sunroom to your house in a ridiculously short period of time, for not much money? Let’s start seeing the ads for padded/bouncy rooms! They can’t be too difficult to construct, can they? Air the ads every ten minutes during the witching hour – you’ll have parents racing to the phone to sign up.

— 8 —

Our big guy starts preschool tomorrow! Here’s what he looked like when he woke up at ten minutes before ten this morning. Yep, we’ve done a really good job of adjusting our schedule in advance of the big first day.

— 9 —

Believe it or not, I still have more miscellany to share. But I’ll save it for another post. I think we’ve passed the point of silly. Happy Labor Day to you all! Have a great (and hopefully short) work-week!

In my neck of the woods, today is The First Day Of School. (Perhaps I should have put that in all caps.) My Facebook feed is alight with pictures of smiling/nervous children, all of them super cute. None of them are from our household – our 3-year-old doesn’t start preschool until next week. To mark the occasion, though, I thought I’d write up a few my thoughts, provide a couple of links, and ask all you good people for a little advice on sending off my own little one next week.

1) I never gave too much thought to it before, but now that I’m looking at this first-day-of-school thing from a parent’s perspective, it’s dawning on me that it sometimes if not most-of-the-times has a greater impact on the parents than it does on the child. I know, all of you experienced parents out there are saying, “Umm… of course it does. How could you have missed something so obvious?” But I did. I’m having a little “aha” moment right now and wondering how I’ll be feeling in two year’s time when my big boy goes off to kindergarten.

2) Given all the angst and worrying that my friends seem to be going through right now, I think someone should initiate the tradition of the First-Day-Of-School-Brunchtime-Happy-Hour. Who’s in?

3) Kathryn Whitaker over at Team Whitaker had a post last week called To The First-Time School Mom. She offers some great words of advice/comfort, which can be boiled down to two phrases: “Be proud of your kid.” and “Chill.” And she also confesses that she messed up her own first child’s first day of school – by dropping him off at school 30 whole minutes late. And crying about it to her mother on the phone as she drove him in. So, perk up, friends! From what I’ve seen so far on Facebook, your kids all got there in time.

4) My friend Krista, who just sent her first child off to kindergarten, had a sweet post yesterday on the momentous occasion. The Soldiers Marched to War – check it out.

5) Given all the Facebook chatter about the beginning of the school year, our own preparations for preschool, and all my Catholic mommy blog reading, I’ve been thinking a lot about what kind of educational experiences I want for my boys. My husband and I have a lot of thinking to do in the next couple of years: public schools, Catholic schools, homeschooling? Which is going to be right for us? So much to think about…

6) For the past month, my own little guy has been insisting just about every single day that this is the day he gets to go to “freefool.” “No, not yet,” I’ve had to reply each time: “Not for another month,” or “Not for a few more weeks.” But now that I’m saying, “Next week!” I’m starting to get a little jittery. Is he ready? In some ways, he’s readier than most – he’s dying to go, he loves being surrounded by people, and he’s not afraid of new experiences. But in other ways, I’m not so sure. Does the kid have his ABC’s and numbers down pat? Nope, but I’m not too worried about that. He’ll figure it out.

What’s worrying me more is, how will he handle unpleasant interactions with his classmates? The child is pretty sensitive, and though he regularly engages in vigorous tussles with his brother over toys and games and me, he’s had very little experience of conflict with other children. The few times that other children on the playground have spurned his efforts to play with them, he’s burst into heartbreaking, pathetic tears. So yes, I’m a little nervous about how this is going to go.

7) On a more practical level, I’m looking for some ideas and words of wisdom from you more experienced parents on the things that we need to work on this week, in anticipation of next week. Here’s what we’re already working on:

1. His name. We call both of our boys by their middle names, so the poor kids hardly (or don’t at all, in the case of the little guy) know what their real first names are. Lately we’ve been pounding away at it with our 3-year-old: “What is your whole name? No, your whole name?” I’m sure somebody’s going to call out his first name at some point and he’ll think to himself, “John? Who’s that guy?”
2. Our names. It’s occurred to me that as he’ll be spending his first regular, substantial time away from us, he should know what his parents’ non-“Mommy” and “Daddy” names are. So we’ve been doing a lot of “What’s Mommy’s name? What’s Daddy’s name?”
3. Our address. What do you think about this one? I’ve done a bit of it, but I’m not convinced it’s as important as the above.
4. Morning routine. We’re late risers here. Apologies to all of you whose children get up at ungodly hours, but my boys regularly don’t rise until 8 or 9 or (ahem) 10:00. As school will start at 9:00, we have a major adjustment to make. This week we’re practicing getting up at 7:00 and being ready to leave by 8:30.
5. Bathroom routine. The little guy is potty-trained at this point, but we’re working on the (shall I say) finishing touches. He’s got to know how to do everything by himself and he’s almost there. Almost. But not quite.
6. Eating. My friends and family already know that my boys have a strange gagging thing that prevents them from eating the types of foods/sizes of bites that 12-month-old babies in other families have already mastered. I can’t tell you how worried I am that somebody will give my boy a carrot stick at snack time and he’ll proceed to choke on it. So I’m working on teaching him to chew, chew, chew; to take small bites; and to refuse foods that are too difficult for him to eat.

8) That’s it! That’s all I can think to work on. Oh, you more experienced parents, what else should we be working on right now?

Thanks for your input! Have a great first week of school, everyone! (And let me know, anybody who wants to take part in the First-Day-Of-School-Brunchtime-Happy-Hour, 2015. We’ll start planning now.)

Surely, he must still be this little. He can’t really be old enough to start preschool!

— 1 —

I finally got my abortion post up yesterday. (On Abortion: Paul Ryan and Two Simple Questions) You know, that one I was trying to write three weeks ago when my 3-year-old thwarted my efforts, pushing me over the edge and into anger-induced, flabby laps across the backyard to blow off steam? The crabbiness of the event lingered, attaching itself to the piece, so I stepped away from it for a week or so. Then I opened it up and tweaked, and waited, and tweaked some more, and then I finally just said to myself, “Enough! Post the thing already!” It’s a brilliant method of writing, don’t you think?

— 2 —

As I did last week, I’d like to pause for a moment to recognize those killed in the horrible fighting in Egypt. And, sadly, those who were killed by or who are suffering the effects of the chemical attack(s) in Syria. I hope you’ll join me in praying for these and other victims of violence, wherever they may be.

— 3 —

I normally try to share a couple of compelling/interesting/challenging NPR segments from my weekly kitchen listening, but this week I don’t have much to offer you in that department. I haven’t been listening to the radio as much lately and it seems like whenever I do turn it on, they’re talking about Bradley Manning. I am so tired of Bradley Manning…

But I do have one sweet little segment to share with you. Nice and sweet – Journey Of The Ring: Lost In WWII, Now Back With POW’s Son. Enjoy!

— 4 —

We have a pretty large house and one of the questions I get most frequently about it is, “How do you keep it clean?” The honest answer is: I don’t. We pretty much only clean when we’re expecting company. I wish that were an exaggeration, but it’s not.

Until a couple of months ago, I did a decently good job of keeping the house (or at least the main floor) tidy – toys picked up, dishes done, etc. (And we all know there’s a big difference between tidy and clean, right?) But since summer hit, all bets have been off: bags lying around partially unpacked for weeks, papers (And receipts! Why are there always so many stupid receipts?!) piling up on every kitchen surface, ever-growing seas of dusty toys lodged under the sofas, and an ever-present mix of more and more toys waiting around to be stepped on.

It’s gotten really bad.

But. Last weekend we had a party at our house for my husband’s friends. So we cleaned. Or rather, Brennan cleaned. (He’s good at it.) I tidied. (I’m good at that.) We got the house looking pretty darned good. And like I do every time our house looks nice from hosting a party, I said to myself, “I’m never going to let the house get dirty, ever again.”

Um… need I spell out what happened next?

No complaints about this. This kind of clutter, I love.

— 5 —

I rarely run out of things to say, so I’m always like, “Seven Quick Takes? How about a dozen? Haha!” But this week, I’m running through what we did, what I thought, what interested me, and… coming up short. Hm.

— 6 —

How about some funny sayings from my 3-year-old? Will that do?

One morning after he ran onto the porch, stopped in the doorway, and ran back in: “Da sun said, You weady to come outside? I said, nope! I need some cwoves!” (clothes)

Another morning, he kept pointing at the top of the previous night’s pizza box and repeatedly shout/asked, “What dem goin’ have for bweakfast?!” When I finally realized he was talking about the drawings of two people on the box, I told him, “They’re just drawings. Why don’t you imagine what they’re going to have for breakfast?” He replied, “Wine. Dem goin’ have wine.” (I swear he does not know that by example!)

One evening when I told Brennan that our little guy been a good boy that day, he told his father that “Mommy was a good boy too.”

One meal when he was messing around and caused his cup to fall off the table (a perpetual problem in our household), I told him, “You are not allowed to drop your cup off the table! Do Daddy and I drop our cups off the table?” He replied, “But we’re boys! We wash our hands and bwush our teef every night!” (Perfect logic, hm?)

One afternoon, I put him in time-out for throwing a train at his little brother’s head. (His aim is good.) As usual, I had him apologize when I brought him out of time-out. But as I was walking away, I heard him tell his brother, “I so NOT sowwy, Jude.”

The victim

Now that I think about it, these lines represent the arc of our week pretty well. Monday and Tuesday, the boys were really good, oh-my-goodness-my-children-are-so-good good. And sweet and gentle… And then? Wednesday and Thursday hit along with a big dose of Bad Boy for the older one, at least. By Thursday evening I was sorely tempted to throw them in the car and just drive and drive and ignore everything (including their yelling and whining and roars) but the road. No destination in mind. How will Friday end up? It didn’t start so well, but my threat to the bigger boy that he’d be spending the day in bed if he didn’t shape up seems to be bearing fruit. So far. We’ll see!

The culprit

— 7 —

Number 5 aside, I purposefully saved the best news for last: On Wednesday afternoon my best friend Catey and her husband Eric welcomed their newest bundle of joy into the world. Little Owen Casimir Williams weighed in at a lucky 7lbs, 11 oz. (I say lucky because 7/11 happens to be my anniversary.) He and his lovely Mommy appear to be doing well. Welcome to the world, little O! We’re so happy you’re here!

Now, go see Jen and all the rest of the Quick Takes crew!