Babysitting Blues

Well, I am finding that you get what you pay for with a babysitter. I used to pay the neighbor girls to come and sit my kids. I would come home to a tidy kitchen or perhaps a folded load of laundry. But my boys got big enough to sit and I even paid for that babysitting class for both of them. I figured they might actually listen to someone else warn them of all the things Mite could choke on. So at least once a week Buck, with an assist from Half Buck, watches 2 or 3 of our kids. My favorite little getaway is currently: piano lessons. I know, did you guys actually think we went out on a date or something? Yeah, my free sitting miles are long gone before I use my teen for an actual outing. Anyway, I just get to sit by myself for half an hour reading in the car or browsing the dollar store. Bliss gets simpler as the years go by. Well after one rainy read in the van, we return to be greeted by Mite at the door. Yes the littlest one is the happiest to see me (a close second is the sitter, but for entirely different reasons). So up he comes to my arms in his little short set. I love seeing those chubby knees again. He is cold and wet and Half Buck proudly says they have been playing in the rain. It was Mites' idea of course. Yes, I well remember leaving the 17 month old in charge of things when I left!

After talking to the boys I leave them in charge yet again for a 2 hour meeting I have to go to. This is even a paid gig and Buck is in charge of bed time. He is so prompt to get them to bed so he can get back to gaming. All seems well when I return and I cough up the money. When Mite awakes in the morn, uh, well, he smells bad. Not poopy, but yuck just the same. So I go to change him and find he is still wearing his snap onsie tee from the day before and the diaper has exceeded its 23 pound capacity. Buck is, at this point, running really late to school. Gaming of course. And up too late watching a movie with dad. I make him come and change this awful diaper anyway. Then it is off to school. Later I find that Mite has moved the sand box trucks into the house. I can't believe I paid for this sitting. How do you get a refund from a 14 year old? From April 2009

About My Age

I just had a cousin turn 30 and it got me thinking about last year (alright, alright, two years ago, when my oldest Sister Mary 1 turned 50 just a few months before my 40Th. I was at her cottage (which also belongs to Sister Mary 2 and perhaps their hubby's too) with all the sisters for a weekend and we were chatting on the deck. It is such a treat for the 7 of us to be together. I was looking for the right time to tell them that little Mite was on the way and thinking they were all going to be as shocked as me. They were the first people we were going to tell about the baby and I was wondering what the more outspoken ones might say about a fifth at 40 when the careers are on there umpteenth speed bump. I mean, if I think it is absolutely crazy and stupid to have a surprise like this, what are they all thinking? And I was dreading my 40Th. Anyway, I asked her what she thought of her age and which birthday was hard for her. She said that 30 was a bit hard, 40 didn't bother her and 50 seemed pretty good. Her kids are raised, she has a little money in her pocket, retirement isn't too soon, but they can envision it. She is really enjoying and I was so happy for her. And I thought: I want to be 50, I want to just skip ahead to that feeling of having gotten somewhere or gotten something finished or feel the freedom she is enjoying. And then I did the math: At 50 I will have children who are 23, 20, 17, 13, and 10. I don't think I will be quite where she is now. I would like to be a young mom of 30 again and have some of that energy and enthusiasm back. By the way, they were all thrilled about the baby, way more than I was at the time. They thought it was terrific and I busted out crying and said it was terrifying. Sister Mary 1, the birthday girl, asked me if it was because we were getting a little older. My reply was because there were so many of them!!!! So for my 40Th I got bifocals and a baby. I certainly don't think I will be bored this decade : ) From April 2009

Road Trip

The best laid plans fall apart when you are trying to stuff 5 kids in a 7 passenger minivan for a 2 1/2 hour drive!!!! We were going to leave for my brother, Luke's (yep going with Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John for my four brothers. It seems to fit with all the Marys)in Ann Arbor right after church at 11. Ran 15 minutes over. Of course we ran everyone to the bathroom before we left. Add 10 minutes. Lost track of 2 kids in the lobby at least 3 times and we ended up pulling out at 11:40. Ugh. At least we have enough gas to get us there. Did you check the oil last night? Add the oil. Can I get a Slurpee? Left the gas station at Noon and made it all the way to the other side of GR before the first potty stop!!! How many gallons of water were served in the 4 year old class anyway? One more potty stop on the drive there. So instead of arriving at 1:30 we got there at something like 2:45.



We HAVE GOT to leave by 7 at the latest - it is a school night. Surely Mite and Cents will sleep on the drive home anyway. It shouldn't be too bad. At ten to seven I have all the stuff I know we brought in the house by the door. Time for the violin concert...and the piano concert...and finishing the latest board game. Did you get the leftovers from the fridge... extra trips out of the car into the bathroom for the kids who forgot...borrow 2 video games and a board game...and on it goes. Mom, where did you put my candy, my gum, my pen, my video for the car? And off we go at 7:45. That's okay, the roads should be clear at this time of night and we can just set the cruise and get home. Nope backed up about an hour out of Lansing so we spent an extra 45 minutes getting round on the scenic route. I think I will invite Luke and family to our house next Easter. From Easter 2009

The Cell Phone

I can remember being just amazed when the neighboring toddler would play with an old cellphone his parents didn't use any more. My Sister Mary 1 tells me the technology or computer ability in those things surpasses the big giants of 25 years ago. But this was 3 years ago, when I didn't have a cell. So this babe was playing with something I couldn't afford for myself. Now I'm pretty sure that most every ones 5Th grader has a cell and it is nicer than my little $10 tracphone. But I'm happy just to have a cell. And since I can't even load a picture on face book, what would I do with a camera on my phone? The Prof began with the same little phone and then upgraded to the very hip $25 camera tracphone. And no, he doesn't know how to download the pictures either. Soooooo, now there is this little phone, just like Mommy's for Mite to play with. Yep, he has his own cell. The other kids even refer to it as his. Although, Cents occasionally likes to make a call on it. I even find myself charging the thing so that it makes all sounds and lights up for him. He is playing with it now, alternating talking on the cell and the teddy bear of about the same size. It isn't active and he can't swallow it, and it bought me the few minutes to write this.

It got me thinking about the old rotary dial phone in the hallway that was heavier than a one year old (yep, pretty much measure all weights in comparison to lugging Mite around). There I sat for the whole world to hear, or at least Mom, anything I needed to say. It is where I did my math homework (that explains that lack of skill). The little phone table is where we stored the booster seats of long ago: the phone books. It was conveniently in reach of the pantry, but that was as far as you could possibly stretch that cord. Now our phone gets lost several times a day. Half Buck leaves it in places like his bed, the driveway, under the couch. Then it is accessible for Mite to dial up, well, who knows where he is dialing when he starts pushing those buttons. From April 2009

Tupperware

Okay, Half Buck is about to turn 11. I can tell, because he is suddenly treating me like I am extremely stupid. When anyone who really knows me knows the kids simply stole most my brain cells while inutero and are using them against me. But I do know my Tupperware. Sister Mary 5 even complimented me on it. She's the one whose hubby wants to bury her in Tupperware since she owns so much of it. She has the good stuff. You know me, I have the generics, the butter tubs, and the still surviving after 19 years of use stuff. Quite a hodgepodge. So, anyway, Half Buck is supposed to be putting away the food and clearing the table. This is a race against time (read: Mite). You must do this chore before he is set free from the highchair or the clean up need increases by factor of 10. So I want him to do it, but I want it done right... the first time... with no extra plastic to wash because the chicken didn't fit. Which means I'm being hover mom. No really, I'm just hear to teach and assist, he is almost 11, he can do this. But that lid is not going to fit. Yeah it will.....no, it won't, yeah it will. Okay, well, anyway, I don't think that container is big enough, yeah it is....no, it isn't, yeah it is. You get the idea and I'm sure you probably know who was right (unless you are 11). More dishes (that's okay, it is Buck's night for that chore). But my problem is: I know I can't download a song to his mp3 and I don't even know what music is cool. I accept that I don't know how boys are wearing their hair. I apparently have no idea what kind of coat is needed on any given day. I don't even feel confident helping with math homework. But I know my Tupperware! Can we credit me a high score on this one drawer in the kitchen or must my child think I'm an idiot in every facet of life as we head into the tweens - again. When face book comes out with a Tupper quiz, I will kick butt (Sister Mary 5 is the only one who can beat me I'm sure, if we can get her on face book). From April 2009

The Hiccups

Yesterday at lunch I cracked open a soda and quickly got the hiccups. They were the loud and sort of peainful kind. Mite apparently got the imitation hiccups right afterward. He kept making the same exact sounds as he sat in the highchair. Then Cents got a bit concerned about me. She was afraid I was "puke sick" as she calls it. She doesn't like puke sick. I know, who does. Then I did my cure: took a deep breath, plugged my nose, did a deep knee bend, tucked my head and just stayed there till I felt I was going pass out if I didn't take a breath. It works, really. But of course I had to do it several times, so I could stop and try to explain it all to Cents. But then the hiccup game was done. How can he make that exact sound and only have a vocabulary of Mama, no, and uhoh? Go figure.