Boy Toys

And now there's Legos.
Let me tell you something. Boys have very extravagant toys. I often times feel bad for my girl because the playroom looks like I have been in the boy aisle of a toy store, dumped it all into a pick up, opened the roof of my home, tossed it all in.

It can't just be a hot wheel car.
It's tracks of hot wheel cars that attach to walls and race across tons of square footage.
It's not just a super hero. It's their caves, castles, cars, and weapons.

I realize that there is plenty for a person to get their female child. However, I have taken some time to watch the girls play. You give them a way to play music and they and their girly friend are CeCe and Rocky, simply creating a stage on the living room floor. My boys and their pals are downstairs constructing an obstacle course out of blocks, tossing many of the two thousand bouncy balls they have at each other, while donning super hero costumes and subsequent super hero gear.

This simply just fascinates me because we, the girls, are considered high maintenance. PUHlease.

So in the past year my middle man has started collecting some Legos.

Let me just deal you something real quick about Legos.

I hate them.

It's a real crying shame, because that boy of mine, he loves them. So now see, I have to tolerate them. The middle boy has a slight setback with some fine motor skills and these Legos provide him with mad strengthening in this area. Attempting to fit the tiniest of plastic pieces into the tiniest of holes on another piece is really just the practice he needs. So now you see, since they help my child, I have to allow them into my home. Guilt is just a crazy thing.

Have you ever attempted to put an entire Lego set together? Dude, this requires like hours of commitment. You have got to be kidding me. And one false snap early on, at the end of the piece you are about to sky rocket earth because something isn't right. Apparently, you are missing the final piece, and this is because the piece earlier on, although similar to the piece that was actually needed, was not the piece necessary, and now you have to figure out how to get the piece and replace it with the right piece while dismantling as little as possible.

This is just unbelievably irritating to me. So add that with the issue of trying to keep it together for the six year old so that he doesn't think this isn't fun for you, well you are just about close to a nervous breakdown over pieces of plastic. I kid you not.

Who the hell thought this might be fun?

Here is my most favorite part of Legos. You are finally finished you pick it up to move it to higher ground so that a certain two year can not deconstruct it, and something snaps and its all messed up. After hours, this thing has snapped apart. Not completely, just a side piece, but it's a half hour investment of your time at the very least. You might think, oh just snap it back together. It's never that simple. See how they snap apart when breaking is so random its unbelievable. For those that aren't familiar with them, Legos are constructed in order. One piece built upon another until you have your masterpiece. The pieces are placed and snapped together so intricately that sometimes I am like, was this piece even necessary? We couldn't have done this easier? You are give a helpful little pamphlet. It's almost like Ikea furniture, but really, it's actually more difficult. Apparently the Swedes did not have a meeting with the creative team at Lego Headquarters. I will tell you that every time I go to move a Lego to it's resting place something causes carnage to the piece. And here I am sitting at the kitchen table while the child has moved on to the next activity piecing together a Lego like I love them or something.

And can someone tell me what is up with the price of Legos? Is there a specific reason as to why the Lego Mine is over one hundred dollars? People this is plastic. I think I have it figured out. It is the adults who still collect and assemble Legos themselves that have jacked up these prices. The Star Wars Lego Theme, more specifically? Forget about it. Some of them are even deemed as 'rare.' Rare? A plastic block? Please stop collecting Legos once over the age of 18, it is just not fair to the boy who has to save his allowance for six years just to purchase the Star Fighter Jet.

I don't know why people think that a child can actually play with Legos once built. This is very confusing to my son as well as me. So you receive this Spiderman Battle Mutant Galactic Supersonic Cave thing with figurines, you put it together, and then you try to play with it. Forget it. Something has snapped off, come unattached, broken off, and impossible to put back on without something else snapping off. It's a chain reaction like dominoes. You see, Legos are simply just for display. Or you disassemble them, put them in the handy Lego storage boxes with the pamphlet, label it, and put it together again, and again, and again. Hours people of my life, now possibly years. But don't you lose that pamphlet. You lose that man and you are screwed you will never know where that red triangle slanted thing goes correctly ever again and it will just look dumb. I try to tell my boy to please, please leave them on the shelf until at the very least the monster is napping. This may in turn lead to a more successful rehabilitation for the set. Because if Jake gets ahold of one, you might as well cut your losses.

am not complaining about time with my son. Don't get me wrong. It is just the sheer focus that is required to put together a complete box of Legos is so very draining. How am I supposed to feed these children when done with this? How can I be expected to see straight? You may just call me an idiot and are thinking that you can put some Legos together in 20 minutes flat. Totally cool too, you are like Lord Lego of Nerdlandia.

In this battle of toys, it looks however that I am very defeated since my son's collection continues to grow. And now with the Star Wars trilogy under our belts, it looks as though our choices continue to expand. It seems as though Santa will have to dig a letter deeper into his pocket making Christmas equality even more difficult. Who's idea was it to have three kids?

I will tell you this one thing. When running down the stairs in the middle of the night in the darkness to get a child whatever it is they need at 3 a.m., if I continue to step with all of my weight onto another Lego I will start a war. That is where I draw the line, Legos, now go make yourself some coupons for me to use.


The Face

For some reason this child has a slight case of Mama Diagnosed OCD.
Its main symptom is repetition and order.
So help you if you sit down something where it does not belong.
Shear panic ensues.
Like if I am getting in the car and putting him in first. I typically have a coffee or a diet pepsi in my hands.  I will always put it on the roof to free up my hands to buckle him in.
I now have to do this when he is not looking.
If he is looking.....'MA-YEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS ON THE ROOF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!! GET IT!!!!!!!!!! GET IT NOW MA-YEE!!!!!!!!!!!! YOUR COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'
It doesn't end until the coffee is safe in my hands.

Jake: Ma-yee, this truck is red?
Me: Yes.
J: The truck is red.
Me: Yes, good job.
2 minutes later
J: Ma-yee this truck is red.
Me: Yes it's still red.
10 minutes later.
Jake: Ma-yee, the truck is red.
Me: Yup, not gonna change pal. We bought it red, it will stay red. Unless your sister gets it and decorates it with marker like every other surface on this house.
J: It's red, Ma-yee.

He likes to count things.
'Ma-yee, there are 1, 2, 3, 7, 13, 14, cereals in my bowl.'
And its everything.
I just sent him to give Stan a treat.
'2 treats.'
J: 4, 6, 7, 9 treats, Ma-yee?'
'No,  just two.'

He has now moved on to adding facial expressions into this OCD. Someone showed him that this trick was possible, and now this is all I see. I see it at least 783 times a day.
'You see my hot dog, Ma-yee.'
He does it whenever he is spoken to.
Some might think it's fresh, like he is sticking out his tongue. I am here to tell you this is not the case, he just can't help but do it, ever since he learned how to do it.
On second thought, perhaps its tourettes.

Why is it called a hot dog?
It looks like a hot dog roll, but we call it a hot dog.

He is aware of who can and can not do this.
'Ma-yee, you see this hot dog.'
Me: Yup, and I saw it the last 67 times too.
'Sue can't do the hot dog, neither can Evan.'
Me: Really? I didn't remember you just told me that five minutes ago.


School Handouts

Here's what. The Homework Folder.
This is what is in there for the student: The homework packet for the week on Mondays.
Here's what is in it for me, the parent: TONS AND TONS OF PAPERS.

In particular, there are an obscene amount of 'papers' that come home every Monday in my girl's homework folder. Seriously, I fill recycling bins. This is an environmental issue people. Al Gore, are you aware of this?

For instance, there are papers about buying groceries through the school. Does someone do this? Can I talk to you as to why you do this? I'm honestly not really understanding the benefits of this.

There are papers about anything and everything. It's like my personal little inbox.

Yesterday there was a flyer to encourage parents to become part of the parent/teacher organization next year. Mine had an extra envelope stapled to it with my name on it. It was a letter from the office to encourage me to put in a nomination to be on the parent/teacher organization board next year. Some might think, 'wow that's awesome, they must see some leadership qualities in me.'  No, this really isn't why they sent it to me. It's because I am in constant contact with the school and then also when her class is having a holiday celebration...here's me with like a freaking party in a box for these kids. I tend to have a slight obsession with party planning and also get nervous for the children in the class as they have a male teacher. Not saying anything bad, but you know sometimes men think that opening the box of juice boxes and opening the bag of pretzels constitutes as a holiday celebration. I love Mr. Taco, but I also know he would love some hot wings, pretzel nubs, and some yuengling at the end of the year party. Totally cool. I will totally bring the cupcakes, brownies, juice boxes, and apple slices so we can pretend to be healthy.

So anyway, to give me purpose and to get me to shut up and off their back, well they think giving me a job within the school might be an outlet for me. I can't help it if I think the Spaghetti Dinner could be so much more awesome. I will contemplate this idea for five minutes, I promised. But like I said, I have a bit of ocd in regards to events and so seriously the book fair will look like something from my pinterest board, and book fairs seriously aren't that deep. I don't know, I think feeding mental health issues might not be cool.

My fave things that come home in the folder are things that K completed in the last week of school. Now that reading and writing has become part of her skills that make her a first grader, I get lots of entertainment from these. I often find myself saying, 'I am totally keeping these.' I am hoping one day she snorts from laughter at what she wrote, or perhaps she could hate me forever for keeping them. Either way, some are that hilarious that I am willing to gamble. She has to do this journaling that is centered upon questions the teacher writes on the board and they have to answer them to the best of their ability practicing punctuation, spelling, and grammar.
Here are some highlights from last week:

What is your favorite food, tell me about it: 'My favouright food is pancaks. Pancaks are made from flower. Flower comes from wheet. Pancaks can be stiky. Have wipes on the table.'

Oooookkkkkk.....excellent advice for the person who might eat pancakes or the person that may have a wheat allergy. This child hates pancakes.

Tell me a funny thing that happened to you and how you felt: 'One time I took an egg and thru it into the air and it landed on my head and brooke. I felt imbareassed.'

She should be more embarrassed by the fact that this incident never once occurred. It happened to Judy Moody, but not Kendall Anne. I can easily understand the mistaken identity though. Beyond that, it takes incredible skill to throw an egg up in the air and have it land smack on your head.

Tell me an adventure you went on and what happened: 'One time I went on a bike ride with my Mom Mom and Pop. It was viry long. I thot my legs were going to not work ever again. They like to go far. We went down a big hill to look at a tree. The hill was dangerus. Pop said it was fun. Then I had to ride back. I wanted Pop to go get the truk. I did not say that becuse they were having fun. I wanted to ride to a ice crem place. That is an aventure to me. They say they like natur. They sleep out side to sumtime.'

This could all very well be true. I feel her pain. I am sure you know my issues surrounding bike rides. Outdoor adventures with my parents and sisters are a whole other post, or five hundred. I can with confidence say that yes, the hill probably was large and that my dad actually did in fact say this was fun. This is how he rolls. Again, another post.  However, my parents actually do own a home, with a bedroom ,and a bed. I can only assume she is referencing camping, unless of course she knows something about them that I do not, and if they truly do just go in the backyard to sleep sometimes, this is just information I would rather not know.

What also was in with these papers was a note from the school nurse. You know all about that hand out if your kid is in school, the handout. We received them many times last year, something about kindergartners I suppose. However, each time my reaction is the same, shear panic. I began scratching my head as soon as I placed it in my hands to read.

This is a nice and quaint letter to inform me that there is a student with lice in her classroom. Listen, I know about lice. Ok? I know it happens and I know its fairly normal. None of these facts matter to me. Last year the lice was in the classroom, but it was a student in the afternoon class. The risk goes down a little. This year it is a student in her class. This is all consuming worst case scenario, cause I am totally that person.

Of course the letter stated that my child was checked and she did not have lice at this time. However here's me: standing over Kendall as she sat at the kitchen table eating cereal this morning, going through her hair like I was some monkey. Listen, I never said I was perfect, perhaps the kitchen table is not an ideal spot to be examining a head for lice. However, I was reading this hand out at the kitchen table, there was no time to change positions, this is an emergency situation people.

I know that it is treatable. But let me tell you something. If there is lice on my child you will know it. Not only will I call everyone I know close to a nervous breakdown, if you were to drive by my home, it would  look like Elliot's home in E.T. when NASA comes to visit. Tubes from doorways to go in and out, white hazmat suits worn. If I find a nit in a hair you will hear me screaming from here to Louisiana.

I don't even care if you call me an over reactor.

Listen, an unmentionable smaller entity in what is my large family took themselves and their family away to a family friendly place and hotel and came back with lice. The sweetest place on earth gave them lice. I now, will never take my children to this place. That's how serious I am. I only go to their home now because I love them, and because I have to, they are family. These facts, combined with the fact that the lady of the house is just as obsessive as I am about this horror that invades our scalps. O.k., so perhaps I stayed away for a specific amount of time that was determined by myself, however, once cleared, I was rest assured all proper treatments and precautions were completed 75 times more then what is necessary.

We just got finished with showers and baths. The girl didn't want to be bothered with one this evening. I, of course, chimed in like a nice calm and rational adult, 'Oh no no no....you will get in the shower, you just went to school in a classroom with bugs that could be potentially looking at your dirty hair and thinking, that might make a nice nest. So no, in this house we shower morning and night.'

So thanks to this handout I have been itching my scalp all day long. I have also grabbed my children each time they have walked past me today to examine their heads because you never know when one might make their move. The back pack is on the front porch.

I don't play.

Watch we get it.

What am I going to do?

I hate school hand outs.

This will certainly be the next one:



My middle weasel turned 6 last week.
This is just plain ridiculous to me. I might like to know where the time went if I actually did have time to sit and think about that, and then I suppose there is my answer.

This is the boy who showed me just how wonderful it is to be a mama of a boy.
I tell you what.
The sun rises and sets on you when you have a little boy. I mean and who doesn't like to feel like the center of the universe just once in awhile? The unconditional love of kids in general is completely inspiring, but then go ahead and have a boy. I have made my fair share of mistakes as a mama already, and I am certain there will be hundreds, ok Kendall, thousands more. However, this little boy lets me fall right back into his good graces within minutes.

We have our bad moments and days where mommy is a grump head, as he likes to call me. But it is those same days that turn into the nights at 3 a.m. when he wanders in to find me and he curls up next to me in bed, and fits right on into my position and breathes a big sigh of relief.

I know he won't be doing this at 16, and if I thought really long about that, I would break down crying.  Cause I am totally that Mom. I have said it before, these poor women that make my sons their husbands. Although they will be blessed with a man that can actually clean a toilet seat, they will have a mother in law that calls to make sure he is eating well and that his underwear doesn't have holes in it daily. And I am totally o.k. with that.  Truth hurts sometimes.

This child however has changed in this past year.
He spread his little wings a little and got to taste some independence outside of his mama.
It was not forced or talked about.
He just all of a sudden found his groove.

Today I came downstairs and this kid was pouring him and his brother a cup of apple juice to go with their cereal that he had prepared. All while I was upstairs wrangling his sister into bright colored clothing that suit her because it is 'spirit week,' at school.  God Forbid we can't find the fluorescent pink leggings on bright colored day what is wrong with me!!!

I turned and said, 'Look at this Kendall, look at this. Your brother prepared breakfast and you're fussing with me about the way your camisole is too long on your tulle skirt and puffing it out all funny!!!' She turned and looked, and then said, 'Hey, I'm hungry too.' He responded, Well Kendall, how am I supposed to know what cereal you want, am I going to always have to know what you want and get it for you!??!' She gave him a face like, 'well isn't that given?'  And I suspect this to be very true. Ethan is the calm and steady one. I would not be surprised if he is the one out of the three that they go to for support, encouragement, comfort, and advice more consistently. You might even find me doing the same thing by age 85. 'Should I take the stool softener or not Ethan, it's been two days, but I'm just not sure what to do!!!"

*For clarification, I got Miss Bright Colors her cereal so the other two could eat theirs before it got soggy because this too is complete and total disaster. And yes, I will talk to my son about my stools, payback is rough sometimes.*

I have mentioned he has his homies that he lives and breathes. Each day he is typically playing with friends and will always have a funny story about time with a friend. He runs in and out of the house all afternoon with a huge smile on his face because he is playing with friends. I can totally relate to this and find it just plain awesome.

He gives second chances when someone does him wrong, which is almost daily when you have a 2 year old for a brother. 'Jake, I will play trains with you, but if you throw Diesel at my head one more time, that's it for the day.'

He is naturally a caretaker. He likes to make sure everyone is o.k. and accounted for. He lets me know when the house is in need of things, like maybe for some reason I wasn't aware. Just last week at 4 a.m., he woke me because he had to deuce. Who has to deuce at 4 a.m.? I'm certain he had to deuce at 4 p.m., but didn't want to take the time to do it, so at 4 a.m. when nothing is going on, this seems appropriate. I'm not sure why I was involved as I stood with my eyes closed leaning on the vanity with a wipe in my hand for him to use. 'Hey Mommy,  so next time you are out running errands be sure to pick up some more go gurts, Jake had the last one today. And also, I think the playroom needs some new light bulbs in some of the ceiling lights, it seems pretty dim down there. And you're going big food shopping soon, right? Because overall, we are running low on snacks.'
Let me just break this down for a second: the words dim and overall were indeed used in this conversation, and not by me. And it seems as though someone is taking complete inventory of my house on a pretty consistent basis. This creeps me out just a little. But what gets me the most is that this was all recalled at 4 a.m. I'm lucky to land on the toilet seat at 4 a.m.

He is meticulous and thorough as you may see by looking at his wardrobe and toy collection.
He wanted a new scooter for his birthday from me.
Let me tell you, we went to exchange scooters three times until he was satisfied.
This is a very intense decision making process apparently.

And man he is a looker. Kendall's friends already giggle when he is near.
I might be a little bit bias because I am his mama and all. But this kid has some seriously handsome big brown eyes and a killer smile. You can judge for yourself.

So I don't know that I really want him to get much older.
He is seriously my milk and cookies.