I'm Having T-Shirts Made

I have to sing "The Wheels on the Bus" to the boys before bedtime. If I don't, they throw a tantrum if I try to turn out the lights. They usually throw a tantrum anyway, but at least it's more manageable after singing their song.

I always ask them for the next verse. The wheels go round and round. The door goes open and shut. The riders go bump bump bump.

Tory has been getting creative recently. He'll look at objects around the room and repeat the sounds they make. The digger goes dig dig dig. The sticker goes stick stick stick. The bed goes bounce bounce bounce.

Tonight he invented the daddies go it's all right. "It's all right" is what I say when one of the kids is hurt. Apparently that's my catchphrase.

Changes

Some of you (e.g. Lynnette) may be wondering where I've been recently. The kids keep me busy, but surely I can spare a few minutes a day to blog.

Not so much anymore.

I started classes in law school last week. As of right now I'm neck deep in reading about torts, contracts, criminal law, and something referred to as "civ pro," which I'm not very good at but I've at least figured out the "pro" isn't short for "professional." The kids are now in daycare, or "preschool" as we cheerfully refer to it.

Why law school? I need to be prepared with something to do when the kids start school.

Sorry for going dark for so long. I want to keep this blog running, but I'm not sure what form it will take. Hopefully I can semi-regularly write anecdotes about the kids. I know I'll be busy torting and civ pro-ing, but surely I can spare a few minutes a day to blog.

Famous Last Words

Scene: A fast food restaurant playground at lunchtime. All three children, having already eaten, were playing on the equipment after a rough morning traveling in the car.

Mommy: Did Abbie use the potty?
Me: No, but I think she'd tell us if she needed to go. She hasn't had much to drink today, so she might not have to go.

Seconds later, we watched Abbie remove her soaking wet pants. Several minutes later, the staff brought us a towel, and we left as soon as we wiped the equipment.

Progress

Abbie and I battled over orange juice yesterday morning. She wanted some for breakfast. I saw her full bowl of cereal, and her full glass of milk, and told her no, not until she finishes the rest of her breakfast. I thought this was a fair arrangement, that she could have a little treat of juice just as soon as she finished her sugary cereal breakfast.

Abbie disagreed. She wanted orange juice, and relayed her demand to me as loudly as possible. I relented a little, and told her she could have orange juice if she finished her milk. Abbie calmed down and let her creativity go to work.

Abbie poured her glass of milk into Tory's glass. I told her that wasn't good enough, and I put her milk in the refrigerator until she was ready to drink it.

After several minutes of listening to Abbie assure me that she was ready to behave, I gave her her milk back with a reminder that she can have juice when she finishes her milk. Abbie looked at her glass, weighed her options, and dumped her milk in the sink.

I sent her to her room, and she ran away screaming. I wanted to teach her that she had to finish the food in front of her to get more, but sometimes lessons don't sink into a toddler's mind.

This morning, without being prompted, Abbie chugged her milk at breakfast, and said, "I finished my milk. Now I want orange juice, please." I was so pleased I poured her a glass of orange juice without demanding she use a question to request it. Abbie took the glass, drank half of it, and dropped the rest on the floor. It's still progress.

Picture Problems

I noticed something last week. I notice a lot of things, mostly involving odors, but this was fairly important. We haven't had professional pictures taken in about a year.

We're devolving into less frequent picture excursions. Abbie had her first set of professional pictures taken at 3-months-old. She had sets taken at 6, 9, 12, and 18-months too. We have expert photographic evidence of her growth for her first year and half, but then something monumental changed. Abbie stopped being an only child.

The boys were born when Abbie was about 18-months-old, and traveling to the photographer's studio became much harder. We still braved it every six months, but the visits stopped for some forgotten reason about a year ago. Abbie still had her picture taken at school, so she was still spending time in front of the camera, but the boys' growth continued undocumented except for visits to the zoo and a handful of other times that I remembered to use our camera. I rectified this situation and set an appointment for this morning.

Our goal was to take a picture of each child individually, a picture of the boys, a picture of all three children, and a family picture. Mommy bought brand new outfits to maximize the adorability of the photos, and to ensure the grandparents would have pictures they could proudly stick on their refrigerators.

Abbie went first. If she learned one thing from her first year in preschool, it was how to pose for a picture. Abbie blazed through three cute poses in about two minutes. She left the room to watch a video in the waiting area while the boys took their turn.

While the boys were waiting, they had been fighting over a toy truck. Ian took the truck in front of the camera while Tory screamed for it in the background. After a couple quick poses, Tory stepped in front of the camera while Ian screamed for the truck.

Things broke down at this point. This toy truck was the key to calming the boys, but there was only one. Give the truck to one boy, and the other screamed. Take the truck away, and both screamed. We were able to convince them to share it, but their attitudes quickly regressed from uneasy to grumpy to cranky. We managed one quick photo where neither boy looked too upset, but we pressed our luck and tried for another photo where both boys looked vaguely happy.

A half-hour later, Abbie's video was done and both boys were in full tantrum. We let the boys take a break while mommy and Abbie posed. 30 seconds later, we had a beautiful mommy-daughter picture and two screaming boys. Dejected, I packed the kids into the car while mommy finalized the order.

I sat in the car with the kids for another half-hour while mommy haggled over which poses and picture packages she wanted to order. I used that time to memorize why we don't go out for pictures anymore. It's too expensive. The session takes too long. I'm always exhausted when the session ends. And we still don't get that family photo we wanted. Maybe we can try again when the boys have had a year of preschool.

Buried Treasure

I cleaned my car tonight. I pulled out every last sock, toy, and fast food sack. I wound up with a grocery sack full of kid's meal toys. I also wound up with another grocery sack full of unopened kid's meal toys. I can now see my car's floor for the first time in months.

GGGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!

I've started Abbie on the long road toward a lifetime of physical activity, collegiate scholarships, and helping me vicariously live my dreams. I signed her up for soccer.

About a week ago, I found a note stuck in our door. It advertised the sign-up dates for a fall soccer league. The soccer fields are about a mile from our house, and we can hear the commotion on Saturday mornings. I've wanted to enter Abbie in the local soccer league ever since we moved into our home, but I didn't know who to talk to or how old she had to be. The note told me where to go to register my children ages 4 and up. Perfect.

I played soccer when I was in elementary school. I remember enjoying it despite losing almost every game. I think I played for about three years, and my sole shining moment came when I scored a goal from about midfield after the opposing goalie apparently fell asleep. I wanted Abbie to share in these good times. When I asked if she wanted to play soccer, she enthusiastically responded, "I love soccer," so I cleared time to take her to the registration.

I drove Abbie to the local elementary school at the appointed time. There I found a small group of people ready to register my child for soccer, and to run her through a series of exercises to determine her skill level. They used an actual stopwatch to time her through these exercises because apparently "She's 4-years-old" isn't an acceptable answer on the registration sheet.

They had two cones about ten yards apart, and they timed her running down, and then down and back. I had to run with her to get her to move.

Next they had her dribble a soccer ball between the cones. I wound up kicking the soccer ball alongside her while she ran in mostly random directions.

The next station was a weave drill with a half-dozen cones spaced out over ten yards. The idea was to dribble while weaving in and out of these cones. The man with the stopwatch assured me he had to time her and write down something even though she had a hard enough time moving in a straight line with the soccer ball.

The final station was a goal-scoring station, where she had to kick the ball into the net from ten yards out. After her first try, it was six yards out. Then two yards out. Then about a half-yard out. She'll be lethal as long as the opposing goalie is distracted by a flock of butterflies.

We turned in our forms, picked up some league information, and headed home. I was a little surprised when I discovered this league is run by a local church that we don't belong to. Only after I picked up the league information did I see mention of this church affiliation. That would imply there's not a strong connection between the league and the church, or possibly that this church is very sneaky about their evangelicism. I don't mind a loose connection, but if Abbie comes home talking about how we need to join this church we may need a talk.

Abbie seems to enjoy soccer, although she has a lot of trouble with the "no hands" rule, and the general concept that she's supposed to move the ball toward the opposing goal. She'll be in a co-ed ages 4-5 division, so I imagine she'll be on about the same level as everyone else. As long as she has fun and maybe learns a rule or two, I'll consider this a success. I'd like to see her score a goal too, but I'm anticipating a lot of 0-0 games.

From the Mailbox

Yesterday I mentioned that I found mommy's driver's license inside the HVAC vent in the toy room. In the comments, Lynette from Iowa asks, "How exactly did you happen across the driver's license there?"

That's a fair question. Most people don't check under the floor vents when looking for things. Most people don't share a house with my destructive forces, either.

My children have discovered they can pry the HVAC vents off the floor. The vents are flush with the floor, and the only thing holding them in place is gravity. With time and tiny fingers, two things my children have in abundance, you can pry those vents loose from the floor and dump large objects into the duct work.

When I stumbled into the toy room the other day, I noticed the room's vent had been dumped in the middle of the floor. I picked it up to return it to its proper location. Before dropping it in place, I always check the duct to remove any valuable and/or airflow-disrupting objects that may be in there. As luck would have it, I removed mommy's driver's license, a valuable she'd been searching for for days.

My kids are quite good at pulling these vents off the floor. Usually I just find toys in the ducts, so these adventures hadn't made it into the blog yet. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before I find someone's keys in there.

Lost & Found

My cell phone has been missing for a few days. I found it yesterday on the lawn in the backyard. It's possible that my children swiped it, drug it outside, and dropped it wherever they got bored with it. More likely, the phone jostled loose from my pants pocket and fell while I was outside rounding up children. However it got there, the important thing is it still works and no harm was done.

Mommy's driver's license has been missing for a few days. I found it this morning in the toy room. Somehow it had fallen through the slits in our floor HVAC vents. I'm pretty sure I know who to blame for that one.

Scenes from a Mall Parking Lot

We visited the mall tonight. Walking through the parking lot, I saw something new. A mother was standing outside her van with her toddler locked inside.

I wasn't sure what to make of the situation. The only person under distress was apparently the mother. She was understandably frantic trying to figure out how to get into the van. The toddler seemed perfectly happy. I'm guessing that while mom pulled the stroller out of the back and prepared for a night of shopping, the toddler pulled the locked door shut. Or maybe the toddler accidentally hit the auto lock button while mommy worked outside. Whatever the reason, a locked van separated mommy from toddler, and no coaxing from mommy could make that child unlock the door, no matter how cheerful mommy forced her voice to sound.

The situation surprisingly seemed under control. The child was in no immediate danger, even though it was a hot summer day and the van was shut tight. The time was early evening, meaning the sun was low in the sky and the temperature was bearable. A mall security guard stood by the van in case things took a turn for the worse. A random store employee also stood by the van in case someone needed a discount at the coffee shop he worked. A real police officer drove up as we walked past.

When we walked out of the mall an hour later, everyone was gone so it must have ended happily. I'm glad that my car key and clicker go straight from the ignition to my pocket whenever I leave my car. That prevent my children from ever locking themselves in the car. The worst they can do is leave my doors open after we get home, allowing the dome light to drain my battery, which they've done several times.