My life in a comedy skit

Smiles and potty tales

Mommy: "Isaac, would you please put your shoes away?" (We have a drawer on a bench in the hallway where they put their shoes and coats.)

Isaac: (Picks up his shoes, turns, and hands them to Elijah.) "Ewijah? Would you please put my shoes away?"

Elijah: "Yeah. Izee. Shoes. Away." (Elijah then turns to go put the shoes away.)

Isaac: "Ewijah, you are a good helper."

***

It was my opinion that JB woke up cranky this morning. He disagreed. So when we playfully began asking the boys which one of was cranky, we hoped that they would settle the disagreement.

"Who is more cranky this morning?" I asked them. "Daddy or Mommy."

Elijah was busy eating. There is no breaking his concentration during that activity. But Isaac wasn't. He looked at both of us and answered, "I am!"

That, is probably true.

***

Potty training is going FABULOUSLY!

• Isaac seems to be nearly perfectly trained. While I do put him in a diaper for naps and at bedtime, he is almost always dry when I get him up. He isn't going #2 as regularly as he used to, but he has been going, and we can't help but laugh when he sits down and says to us, "A big one is coming!" No accidents for him in two days. Lots of false alarms. But no accidents.
• Elijah is not quite as reliable. He seems to need to feel his underwear getting slightly wet before he decides it's time to go to the potty. But yesterday there was only one small accident. (And quite honestly, it was his shirt that got wetter than his underwear. How does THAT happen?) He cracks us up because he needs to sit down on his potty all by himself. "Do it. Self." He also needs privacy if he is going to be getting serious about things (if you know what I mean.) He is quite wet after naps and bedtime which indicates to me he may not be completely ready to tackle this thing. But yesterday and today, so far, have been perfect. He will also go on the big potty. And he will make himself go anytime Isaac does so that they can BOTH have M&Ms* or Smarties.

*Did you know that M&Ms are a "new" thing here in Turkey. As a result they are VERY expensive (off-Base). A mid-size bag can cost you approximately $10USD! When I went to shop in the duty-free section of the airport, there was alcohol and M&Ms. M&Ms everywhere!!! Apparently they are so new that they are still taxed VERY heavily. Go figure.

210

It is 2:10pm. Isaac won't nap. He's been in there for over an hour.

And worse, he's totally figured out how to stall!

"Isaac you must go to sleep," I say as I peep in to make sure he isn't climbing on the walls or doing some dangerous something-or-other. I then begin to shut the door.

"Mommy. Wait. I need ..."

"What do you need?"

"I need ... something," Isaac says in a very sweet, sleepy, cute voice.

"You don't need anything. You need to go to sleep," I say (and begin to shut the door again.)

"No. I do. I need ... a huggie."

Oh geez. Like I can turn that down. "Okay," I say as I cave to his cuteness. "I''ll give you a hug." I do, and then I say, "Okay. Now you need to go to sleep."

"But wait Mommy. Could you stay here with me?"

"No, I can't. You have to go to sleep."

"But could you just hold my hand?" he asks.

Oh for crying out loud. How manipulative and gooey and amazingly intelligent can a two-year-old be? Who taught him how to do this? Of course, I sit there, holding his hand. I then allow him to lead me to his toy box full of stuffed animals so he can pick just one more out to have in bed with him.

When I finally do give in and shut the door, it's only because I was quicker to the draw. I shut before he could come up with something else that would draw me back in.

Isaac is definitely growing up. For the first time in his entire life, he is challenging us. He is starting to talk back, "I don't want to eat those, okay?!"

He has learned how to skirt the truth by answering, when asked why Elijah is crying with, "Because he hurt himself." Asked how he hurt himself? "He got hit." Only when asked what hit Elijah does he finally reply that, "I hit him."

But even though I know he is growing up and getting wiser and becoming more sinful in nature, my love for him seems to double by the moment. By the day. I feel so lucky, every day, that two teenagers saw fit to make me his mom. Truly can there be any better gift?

Sorry. He's calling me again. And if I have to be honest, I know I'll probably be a sucker and be watching a movie with him on the couch before a few minutes have passed.

Love that little boy. Even if he's making me work harder with every day that passes to out-wit him, to out-think him, and to discipline him. My sweet little Isaac.

Incredible Intensity

How does a chocolate lover (i.e...me) go 33 years and never experience a TOBLERONE?

A travesty. That's what it is.

I ate it with ... (and notice my theme here) ... incredible intensity.

Thank you to my good friend who thought I needed some of that today. I did.

I have been having some hard "Mom" days as of late. Mainly this is due to the fact that the boys have been fighting with incredible intensity and finding things to get into with even more incredible intensity.

Just one example.

• The boys: eating yogurt.
• Me: need to change my clothes.
• Me: Runs upstairs. Seriously. Two minutes. I was only gone for two minutes. Yogurt is not a choking hazard. I can leave for two minutes. Right?
• Answer: Wrong.
• The boys: decide to throw yogurt all over the kitchen with incredible intensity. Their bowls are on the floor. Yogurt is in their hair. Scrubs is covered. They are covered. Blueberry everywhere.
• Scrubs: licking everything in sight with incredible intensity.

So not only did I have a friend bring me a Toblerone (yum yum yum!) but I had another friend offer to take one of my boys after naps. Just to separate them for a bit. Just to give me a little time to parent one child and stop the incredible intensity bubbling under the surface all day long.

Another friend offered to help me get a meal I had made for a friend to its indended destination. Small bits that make up a large whole.

I like living here. I like JB's hours. I like the culture. I like the experience. But despite all that liking, I do believe it would be impossible for me to do this life by myself. These friends I have made are a lifeline for me.

Truly, today, I felt like they were God in the flesh. They were His hands. I called to Him, and he comforted. In the form of human beings with hearts set on Him.

Thank you Lord.

Bless you friends.

Thanks

A HUGE THANK YOU! to those of you who offered me encouragement after my post yesterday. I was so incredibly grateful for the encouraging words I received both on this blog and via email. So many things jumped out at me.

Joy you were such a blessing to me. Joy noted that I was writing this after being sick for two days. SO TRUE! Not a good time to analyze my abilities as a mother. Secondly, her comment about their eternal souls was one I had thought of before I even wrote the blog. The fact that I am investing in the souls of men is what I need to remember. When I was serving them their macaroni & cheese with peas for dinner, I thought about the fact that surely there was a mom who was better at this dinner thing than me. But years from now, they won't remember what we had for dinner. What they'll remember the values I helped instill in them. What a task!

Bethany I also greatly valued your comments as a mother of twins. I have to remember that times two is, literally, times two. That helped me so much. You are my hero!

I know the Lord is looking out for me because even before I could express in words my feelings of being overwhelmed, my mom sent me an email with the following scriptures. How awesome is He to show her I needed encouragement even before I expressed out loud that I did?

Psalm 61:2-3 (New King James Version) ² From the end of the earth I will cry to You, When my heart is overwhelmed; Lead me to the rock that is higher than I. ³ For You have been a shelter for me, A strong tower from the enemy. (Amplified Bible) ²From the end of the earth will I cry to You, when my heart is overwhelmed and fainting; lead me to the rock that is higher than I [yes, a rock that is too high for me]. ³For You have been a shelter and a refuge for me, a strong tower against the adversary.

Flusharoo

Today, it happened.

We've had many close calls. But today, it actually happened.

Today, we lost something down the toilet.

Maybe I should feel lucky that I made it twenty-four months before it happened. I am not sure. But today I went in to use the bathroom. My usual entourage went with me -- two boys and the dog. I usually use the bathroom in the hall since it is bigger and there is room for everyone.

(This is why, when JB comes home, I often ask him if I can go "use the bathroom" by myself. I sorta miss my private time.)

Anyways, I finished my business and stood up. Then I flushed. I turned around to wash my hands and saw Isaac pick up John's "guard" for his razor. JB cuts his hair himself -- short -- and he uses the same guard all the time.

I guess he'll have to find a new one because not one second after I flushed, Isaac launched it into the toilet. He hit a hole in one and then we all waved buh-bye as the guard went somewhere way far away.

I saw Isaac pick up the guard, but quite honestly, Isaac's life has lulled me into a false sense of security. I would have bet any amount of money that his little brother would create our first toilet casualty. I've never seen Isaac even touch the water or put anything near the toilet before.

Until today.

So, please tell me I'm not the only one. Anyone else want to share their worst toilet experience either for yourself, your pet, or your kiddo?

P.S. Sorry JB!

A moment

Come if you will into a five minute moment in my life.

First let me mention two things to help to the drama of this rather long moment in my life properly represent itself.

Scrubs, firstly, is injured. You won't believe what he did. It's actually kind of funny in a warped and twisted way.

While playing Frisbee two days ago he turned to run to get the Frisbee and did not know that JB's car was parked in the driveway.

He SMASHED into it. Very hard. A totally blind smasharoo.

For the last two days he has been lying in corners and in our room. If he gets up, he cries. John thinks he has a deep shoulder or neck bruise.

In addition, I am watching our neighbors' dog, Brick. He's a sweet golden who is very easy to have around. He'll be here until tomorrow afternoon.

So, now, you have a good image. Two boys. Two dogs. But that's only the beginning.

Let's up it to three boys. Why not.

At about the same time, the dogs and the boys see "Doia" and "Keenan" coming to the door. Keenan is going to stay with us for a bit while Joia tends to Moriah at the doctor.

Pandemonium ensues at the arrival of two of Isaac's favorite people.

Brick erupts into crazy spurts of excitement. He begins running back and forth from window to door. Scrubs knows to get into his "spot" so he does. But then he sees Brick and he goes crazy and has to be reminded all over again. "Scrubs, spot. Brick, stay. Scrubs, come."

It's very difficult to tell one dog to "stay" and the other to "come" at the same time. I'm saying come but the other is staying. And then vice versa. How do people have two dogs?

(I know many of you are wondering how I even have one.)

To help tend to the cacophony of craziness, I put Scrubs into the kitchen. I try to put Brick in a back bedroom. But when I say "come" he goes the other way and plops down in a pile next to the couch. He cracks me up. Whenever he senses I want him to go somewhere, he seems to find a "plop spot" to drop into. I tried to bring him to his food dish this morning and he went and "plopped" on Scrubs' couch instead. Once he chooses a "plot spot", I can't do anything about it. He's just a lump of dog, and I'm just one girl with a bum foot.

Try moving an 80 pound dog that doesn't want to move. Not good odds in your favor. Try it with a bum foot, and it is next to impossible.

Anyways, Keenan sees train set in the living room and goes crazy with excitement. He plops down himself in the middle of it to play while Joia and I say our temporary good byes. As the door shuts, Keenan asks me where a certain train is. I have no idea what he is talking about. I am still trying to learn the names of all the trains and tractors and bikes and whatnot that now occupy ever spare iota of our home.

I promise to help him look in a few minutes for the train of unknown origin.

At this time Isaac decides to run back and forth down the hallway in spurts of nervousness. He has been doing this when he gets overly excited lately. He's a bit shy, so running is his way of saying he's happy you have come without actually having to say it.

Elijah brings me a book. He's stinky. Very, very stinky.

So while Isaac is running down the hallway and Keenan is playing trains and the dogs are in their "plop spot" and kitchen quarters respectively, I bring Elijah to the nursery to change his diaper.

The door is locked.

Did I forget to mention that Elijah has learned how to lock and then shut doors? He's never done it to me but he did it to Jessie once while she was here and John once while he had the boys.

No time to find a thingy-ma-bob that I can unlock the door with. So I bring him to my bedroom to change his diaper. I have not made the bed for the day (sorry Joy) but I do have my handy-dandy little basket which includes diapers and wipes and a changing pad. I keep this in my bedroom for moments when the nursery is occupied or, well, locked.

I push the three loads of laundry I have waiting to be folded to the side of my bed and lay the changing pad down. It's a smaller pad so it doesn't allow for complete body protection. But at least his rear end is protected.

Right?

Yeah. Right.

There is stuff in this diaper of colors and images I have never really seen or even pictured before, and I start my defensive posture to get this diaper clean. Since Elijah likes to, well, grab himself down there, I try to block his arms while holding up his legs and spreading his legs and retrieving wipes all at the same time.

It's a move I have semi-perfected in the 25 months that I have been changing diapers on a nearly hourly basis.

But Elijah is having none of it. In the midst of this procedure he reaches down and grabs himself, coating his hand in the aforementioned concoction. When I try to stop him, he throws his legs down in a mad burst of energy and slams both his feet right smack into the diaper that I have taken off.

Feet now have aforementioned yuckiness on it. And, with one more determined "plop" so does my bed sheet.

At this point, the diaper prepares to launch itself over the side of the bed. In a fit of panic for the carpets that they will most likely replace after we move out anyway, I grab for it and stick three of my fingernails right smack inside the diaper.

Disgusting!

I yell, before I can think about it, "Dang it!" nearly as loud as I can.

I turn to see Keenan and Isaac standing in the doorway. Why aren't they playing with the trains or running down the hallway or something?

Isaac repeats "Dang it!" while Keenan giggles. (Sorry Joia. Really I am.)

"No," I say. "Dang it is a bad word. Don't say it."

Isaac smiles. "Dang it, dang it, dang it, dang it, dang it," he says.

I'd move forward to punish him, but I'm not really sure he deserves it since he is mimicking me. In addition, I now have poop on my hand. Elijah has it on his hand and on both his feet and now it is on the fitted sheet too.

A lot of it.

I tell Keenan and Isaac, as politely as I can muster, to go play with their trains.

They in turn, led by Isaac mind you, begin to run up and down the hallway screaming at the top of their lungs.

"No screaming!" I scream.

"No screaming!" Isaac screams back.

I block out the noise and go to work cleaning up the incredible mess that just a few seconds of my life has unleashed. Somehow I manage it. I set Elijah down on the floor next to my bed in just his new diaper, and he takes off to find the big boys.

Once the sanitizer and soap has successfully washed my hands, I bring some to Elijah. I then return to my room.

All that laundry on the bed is now a problem. I need to take off the fitted sheet but how do you do that with laundry occupying every free inch of bed?

Well, you do it. It can be done. You can take off one corner of the fitted sheet and then roll the laundry into that section and then remove another corner and roll the laundry into that section. Then you can take those sheets and your son's clothes and put them right into the washing machine, thankful that you had moved clothes to the dryer earlier that morning to save yourself a complicated step when poop is on the agenda.

I then go and find a thingy-ma-bob that I can unlock the door with. (And yes, post-finding it, I am now keeping it above the door frame so that this doesn't happen again.)

At this moment, believe it or not, the madness has died down. Elijah is in new clothes in his bed taking a nap. Keenan and Isaac are playing peacefully with the trains as if it is Christmas morning. Brick is sleeping in the kitchen, a new "plop" spot all to himself. Scrubs has occupied a rug in the living room.

I, am going to go have a beer I think.

Just kidding.

Maybe.