and there you have it…



a hour in the life of a writing mother

So I’ve been spoiled people. I got two hours at Panera last week to write essays for adoption grants (really trying to hammer these out as we could get a call any day now!) TWO HOURS OF UNINTERRUPTED TIME. I was able to drive there, order my chai, set up, hammer out 12 mini essays, drink my chai, check my facebook, snap a few pics, all in 2 hours. I had totally forgotten what it was like to write without an interruptions, I was in the zone. I was flying along, I was ENJOYING myself immensely. Writing and productivity and chai these are a few of my favorite things! (that last sentence must be sung people! Just thinking about it makes me want to burst into song!)

That said, I’m having problems adjusting back today. I’ve started this thing so many times and mostly it’s looked like this…(this was not the same child, I just chose not to call them out today…I’m sure a few of you may know who they are anyway…)

Me: *writing one sentence*

child: I’m going to make a hat stand!

Me: Great idea baby *hears grunting and struggling in the background, trying to keep my head down and look invisible*

child: I can’t get loops off! They’re too tight! Mommy fix it!

(cut scene)

2.5 minutes later

Me: *rewriting the one sentence adding another*

child 1: Mom! Mom! Can I take the blanket outside?

Me: the one we use outside, yes

child 1 : But I want to take this one? I’m gonna take this one, ok?

Me: the one you can use is in the van

*garage door opens, rummaging in van commences, muffled shouting*


Me: *gets the blanket, shuts garage, shuts door* she took the blanket around to the front of the house outside (to other 3 children)

child 2: Mom I can’t find (child 1), they were going to find the blanket and now I can’t find them!

Me: she took the blanket around to the front of the house outside


(cut scene)

1 minute later

child: Can I go outside too?

Me: I can’t go out and watch right now, sorry baby

child: But can I go out? I want to go out too.

Me: I cannot go outside and watch you right now, no.

child: But…

*sound fades to black, internal groan and face plant into keyboard*

(cut scene)

1.5 minutes later

Me: *scrapping previous sentences and starting the above*

child: *standing contemplating what is going to be said for a full 30 seconds* We…are…going to make…a…couch thing!

Me: That sounds like fun *turns back to writing*

child: wait wait! and it’s going to be one up and one down!

Me: *smiles and turns back to writing*

child: WAIT! *deep breath and runs away*

(cut scene)

I’ve now had a solid 15 minutes of productive writing time and look at all I’ve accomplished. It’s only taken me almost an hour to get that 15 minutes and oh wait here comes another kid…

grant takes a hair cut

Grant: Meow meow meow. Rrrrrooooaaaammm rrrrooommm.
Eeeehhhh wooo wooo

Nana: Grant can we try a little quiet?

Grant: uh uh

Me: why don’t u sing us a song instead?

Grant: I will do dat after I take a haircut. Eeehhhh. *screeeeaaaach*

Aaahhhh, don’t put the sharp part on me!

Nana: I just have to put it next to your skin, I’m not going to put it in your skin.


Wwwrrrouumpp *shivers and pulls away*

Me: be brave, she’s got to get your neck.

Grant: *whimpering like a caged puppy*

Nana: there all done with the edges, now just the middle!

Grant: yay! I like this part! *brief smile then whimpering resumes*

Aaahhh, that tickles. THAT TICKLES! (this boy must hate tickling)

Ok, I’m all done now. Yes I’m done for now.

Hey you made that part by my eye high now.

Nana: over here? This side?

Grant: yeah, right there. It looks really nice now.

Nana: thank you, yes it does.

Grant: ok can I be done now?

Nana: well we still need to even it up.

*Clip, clip, whimper, whimper*

Grant: please can I be done now? Please? Now?

(in a whimpery voice) eehhh my body is getting tickly.

Nana: here let’s fix that *breaks out the powder and brush and brushes him off*

Grant: yay! Alright! Can I be done now?

The part over here is really high, so I might be all done.

Hey, hey you ogot some over here. OVER HERE!

Nana: let’s see how it’s looking. You want the bangs shorter momma?

Me: yep, they grow fast.

Grant: yep, they grow about five inches a day.

Nana: wow that’s a lot.

Grant: yep, it is. Sometimes even up to 90 inches. Can I be done now?

(we actually have quiet for a minute and I look up from my blogging to find him playing with his snot, I pretended not to see, he was quiet, don’t judge me)

Nana: let’s stand you up so I can get your cow lick in the back.

Grant: now I’m bigger da you nana. I’m like 36 inches or something like dat.

Nana: ok momma look at the back.

Grant: *turning to face me with a big grin* and look at this part too momma!

my flip flops make me really good.

*dinosaur sounds* aaahhh I need a tissue!

Me: should we spike you up?

Grant: no that would make me something else. I want to be me.

Nana: ok your done.

Grant: yay! Now I want a pistol!

another baby?

Grant: is there another baby in your tummy yet momma?

Me: nope, no baby

Grant: but why not?

Me: uh…well…we’re done with babies being in mommy’s tummy.

Grant: but why?

Me: well, daddy and mommy think you three are just right for now.

Grant: but why?

Me: well…umm…hmm…

Grant: but momma!?!?

band-aids and boo boos

Most would say band-aids and boo boos go together like texting and teenagers or love and marriage or some other trite over used saying we are all so ‘fond’ of. The conversation came up at the office today as a co-worker was showing pictures of his daughter’s new Rockyesque look. Some one brought up that band aids will make it all better, and then I realized yet again, my kids are from a different planet.

They’ve hated car seats, when ALL other babies seem to just slumber away in the car. The last two have been no goes on swings as babies, that I just totally can’t understand. And so far Jena and Grant (have not tried Jacob, but he’s been remarkably less accident prone, I think it’s ’cause he’s a late bloomer) hate band-aids. This is not a mild dislike, a tolerance without the normal fun associated, I mean they hate them.

Jena got a boo boo last week and I offered her a fun band-aid to make it better and the screams that ensued were worse the than original fall created. Through her sobs I heard over and over ‘I NO WANT A BAND AID!’ In fact, I will admit, occassionally, I have stooped to threatening a band aid when a particular accident fall out has been especially bad. After that a simple ‘stop crying and no band-aid,’ and we’re all better again. It’s low, I know.

Today was one of my days to pick up Grant and I noticed as I grabbed his folder at the door they had learned something about band-aids today. He had a nice picture of a scrapped up knee with  a real live band-aid stuck to it. ‘Band aids make my boo boos better!’ was the nice propaganda written on the top of the page.  I was partially amused having had the conversation at work not 15 minutes before, and partially curious as to how far this had gotten into my kid’s head.

As we drove home Grant is telling me of all sorts of things. He eventually lands on the two boo boos he got at school today. Apparently some kid on the play ground ran his head into Grant’s nose while both were running around and at least my kid had his eyes closed, boys. He also had an impressive scratch on his knee from a chair. Thinking this was the perfect set up, (earlier he’d told me a nurse talked to them at school today too, then the knee picture, on the way home to a closet well stocked with awesome band aids) I suggested maybe a band-aid would help it.

He then proceeded to take the next 5 minutes to explain in full 4 year old detail why there was absolutely NO REASON this boo boo needed a band-aid. He assured me over and over he was fine and it would get better all on it’s own, just see, he tells me. And there was not a lot of skin on it, maybe the next one will have a lot of skin, for me, and then maybe, he will need a band-aid, for that next one, maybe.

I’m still somewhat disappointed that all those awesome band aids I got such an awesome deal on are still in their box in my closet, but I’m also gratified that my kid doesn’t just buy everything he hears. That trait has a tendency to drive me nuts when I’m the one trying to tell him stuff, but I think it will serve him well in the long run.

Sorry band-aids, you’re going to have to try harder if you want to win my kid over.

working much?

The other night I was sleeping on the couch, let me pause for minute. No I was not in the dog house, no I was not physically separating myself from my husband, there was no fighting, arguing or anything like that going on. I don’t really remember what was going on, but it probably had more to do with Jacob being a bed hog and the couch bed already being made into a bed, probably.

So anyway, I was sleeping on the couch and I vaguely hear Jacob wake up, one of the dream like wakings, where you’re not really sure what’s going on. I didn’t get up, I was a bit disoriented, and all of a sudden I look up and there’s Neil, standing at the side of couch holding Jacob.

Neil: he needs the special stuff

Me: wha?

Neil: the special stuff Joy, from the special pages.

Me: pages? webpages? what are you talking about?

Neil: the special pages, the special pages!

Somehow we all ended up back in bed and Jacob nursed and went back to sleep. The next morning when I woke up I got a good laugh out of our midnight delirium. I think my husband’s been working a little too hard on the online development portion of his job, either that or I’ve developed some special pages I’m unaware of…

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