Slow Days

I’ve often wondered if everyone has days when they just can’t seem to get anything done. Maybe I’m the only one, but I have had so many of those days that I don’t think I can even count them all. On these days no matter how hard I try to get going, I can’t seem to get my body to move any faster than a sloth. I aimlessly meander around my kitchen looking at all the dirty dishes on the table, counter, sink, and every other nook and cranny, I go into the laundry room to observe the Mount Everest like pile of clothes in the hamper, then attempt to make my way into the kids’ room but quickly turn around because there are so many toys on the floor that the door is barricaded. So I stand in the hall for a second and then go right back downstairs to get a chocolate. The little mini Milky Way or Snickers usually gets me going for a short time, but often, I find myself staring blankly out the window five minutes later. For some reason on these days, my subconscious must tell me that I have all the time in the world and that everything can wait.

One day in particular stands out above all the rest. I spent the morning doing who-knows-what and by two o’clock or so I realized that I should probably start getting ready for the day. The house was a disaster and we had guests coming the following morning. We had a costume party to go to by 4:00 that evening, none of us had any costumes, and I hadn’t even showered. By 3:00 the only thing I had done was decide what costumes we should wear and added a few dishes to the dishwasher. I got the kids shoes on and got ready to go to the store to actually purchase the costumes. The store was a fairly short distance so I had the idea to walk, instead of taking the car, to be a good citizen and save the air. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 3:15 and thought that I might be cutting it close if we walked. Looking back on it several days later I realized that it probably would have taken us until 4 just to walk to the store, let alone find costumes, walk back home, get the kids ready, take a shower, style my hair, and make dinner. By 3:45 we were finishing up at the store and my phone rang. Kasey was calling wondering where we could possibly be. He had made it home from work and was at the house waiting to leave for the party. At that point my brain finally turned back on and I realized how late it was. I grabbed the last few items, shoved the kids in the car, went 20 mph over the speed limit all the way home, ran inside, jumped in the shower, threw my hair in a pony soaking wet, and costumed the kids as fast as I could. While I was running around the house Kasey approached me and gently asked me what the heck I had been doing all day. All I could do was shake my head and say, “I have no idea!” Luckily once my mind started functioning again it only took me a half hour to do all the essential tasks and we were on the road by 4:15. 

The Lady at the Swings

During one summer, the kids and I took a walk to the nearby park three or four times a week. After a few weeks, we began to have somewhat of a ritual. We always went the same route, and we always stopped in all the same places. Cody would always push the walk button to cross the street, and then Isabella would always have a fit until I let her push it too. Then I would push it five or six more times, just for good measure. Pushing the walk button at least twenty times is a bad habit that I got into during my middle school days, and I have never been able to shake it. It can be an embarrassing habit, especially when someone has already pushed it.

When we got to the park, we would go straight to the swings. Next we played in the cement tunnels and, inevitably, I would have to stop one of the kids before they stepped into the tunnel that was always full of muddy water. After the tunnels, we walked over to a separate part of the park where the playground and slides are.

One day we were almost to the swings when I saw another woman walking with her child to the same destination. There were usually plenty of swings, but there was only one baby swing, and Isabella wasn’t quite old enough for the big kid swings. After eying the child I guessed that she was around four or five, and obviously not a competitor for the baby swing, so I relaxed and slightly slowed my pace. We all arrived at almost the exact same time. As Cody and Bell were climbing out of the stroller, the five year old girl walked right up to the baby swing and her mom helped her in. Cody started shouting, “No! That’s Isabella’s swing!” As I helped Cody into the swing next to where the young girl sat I explained to him that it was actually the park’s swing, and I said that I’m sure we can all share and take turns. I gave the woman a smile without receiving one in return.

After these few events, I was a little annoyed, but I decided to just hold Isabella for a minute while I pushed Cody. Surely the mother would understand the situation and let my smaller child take a turn. Isabella tolerated being in my arms for a few minutes, but soon became anxious and begged, “swing mommy, please?” My arm was getting tired any way so I put her in the swing on the other side of Cody, told her to hold on as tight as she could with both hands, and gave her a small push. She held on tight and I was relieved that she would be happy in the big swing for the moment. I watched her for a second then turned around to push Cody. I turned back around just in time to see Isabella let go, fly out of her seat, and land face first on the hard ground. I picked her up, and with tears in her eyes and a whole mouth full of wood chips she bravely said, “I ok, mommy.”

While all of this was going on, the woman and the five year old were playing happily on the baby swing without even a glance our way. The mother’s friend came over and put her own five year old boy in the swing that I had just taken Isabella out of. The two women began chatting over my head while I resumed holding my 18 month old and pushing my three year old. My resentment started to grow. The mature thing to do would have been to walk away and go to the tunnels. I have never been one to give up easily, and my stubbornness got the best of me. I was determined to give Isabella a turn to swing. Besides, I thought, how long can a five year old really want to sit in a baby swing?

Nearly twenty minutes passed and Cody was getting sick of swinging. I was almost ready to give in when the woman stopped the swing and asked the girl if she would like some yogurt. “Finally!” I thought. I was preparing to put my patient Isabella in the swing when the lady walked over to her bag, got a yogurt container out, opened it up, and began feeding the five year old in the swing. I’m sure my jaw dropped all the way to the floor, but of course, neither of the ladies who had happily resumed their conversation over my head, even glanced my way. Furious, I stormed over to my stroller, put my crying children in, and stomped over to the tunnels.

If I get to the other side and I don’t get through those pearly gates, it might just be because of all the nasty thoughts that went through my head that day about the stupid lady at the swings.

The Flies

After the ants were mostly gone, I started to relax, and I finally stopped sleeping with the Windex bottle. I thought we were finished from annoying bugs once and for all, but I was wrong. One morning I woke up and came downstairs for breakfast to find 6 or 7 flies swarming around the kitchen and living room. We had been married for 4 years, and had still never purchased a fly swatter. I’d seen Kasey kill the flies with a towel before, so I attempted to do the same. It turned out to be a lot harder than it looked. I spent close to a half hour chasing one fly around. Finally I saw it land on the cupboard and I moved in for the attack. Before that fly knew what hit him, he was on the counter, dead… well almost. The humane thing would have been to just kill the poor guy, but I didn’t want to smash him with toilet paper because then I could feel it squish between my fingers and I hate that feeling. So I did what any sensible girl would have done, and covered it with a glass. I’m pretty sure it died a few seconds later, but then I still had the problem of a dead fly on my counter, and I would still have to pick it up with some toilet paper or something. So after several minutes of contemplating the dead fly under the glass, I made the decision to leave it there until Kasey arrived home from work.

The next few weeks were spent fighting the flies. Our battle strategy consisted of following the flies around with our eyes until they landed, then smacking them as hard as we could with a wet rag. The kids became just as obsessed with it as Kasey and I. Cody would run around the house with a rag screaming, “Where is it Mom?! Where is it?!” Then he would pretend to find the fly, fling the rag into the air, and bend down to pick up the phantom bug. Throughout the day, Isabella would randomly point in the air and yell, “Right there! Right there!” About this same time, Cody had two incidences where he was stung right on the face by bees. Surprisingly, he still wasn’t terrified of flying insects, but they definitely made him very uncomfortable. Now every time he saw a fly, he would freak out and shout, “There’s a bee!!”

The laundry was starting to be filled up with fly rags so fast that I couldn’t keep up with it all. We would go through seven or eight in one afternoon. I had a fly swatter on my grocery list every single week, but I would somehow forget to grab one every time I went to the store. So one Saturday night we spent our date time searching for a fly swatter, combing the entire Walmart, and asking every sales associate we could find. Each helpful Walmart employee had another suggestion of where we could look, but we were continually disappointed at every new department. Our search was in vain, so we continued to fight our war with nothing but rags.

the Ants

When we first moved into our new town home, we loved everything about it, except for one thing: the ants. We had ants everywhere. One morning we woke up and there was a huge train of ants crawling across our living room carpet from the front door clear into the kitchen. I think the entire ant hill had shown up for the party. The first day or so we contacted our landlord who told us that the pest control man would be coming in a few days and the problem should be resolved. So we decided not to buy any expensive product to rid ourselves of the obnoxious insects, and just endure for a few days. We did, however, try every home remedy we could find. The only thing that seemed to work a little was putting Comet in all the corners and cracks where the walls met the floor. Windex, we found, also kills ants on site. I constantly had a bottle of Windex in my hand. I ran around all day squirting ants like a maniac. Finally the day of the pest control man arrived. We anxiously awaited the hour when all the ants would magical disappear. Apparently, that is not how pest control works. The day following the service, the ants were worse than ever. There were now ants coming out of the carpet in the middle of the floor where there was not even any access to outside. I had no idea how that was even possible. And the worst was yet to come. I was making ramen noodles for Cody and Isabella’s lunch. Ramen is their favorite lunch time meal and it had been a long time since we had it so they were bouncing up and down with excitement. The noodles were done and I poured it into their individual bowls and added an ice cube. As I was stirring, I noticed little black flakes throughout the noodles. I decided it was probably some of the spices in the spice packet, but when I lifted the spoon to my lips I saw a boiled, shriveled, dead ant about to go in my mouth. Naturally, I screamed, and made both of the babies start to cry. After calming them down, I looked through the rest of the noodles and saw that there were dead ants throughout the entire package. I threw the noodles down the drain and ran to check the rest of the ramen packages I had bought. The entire box had been raided by little ants who were now enjoying Cody and Isabella’s noodles. In frustration I tossed the box outside onto the back porch and sprayed the whole bottle of Windex on it. When Kasey got home I forgot to tell him to go take care of the contaminated Ramen box so it sat there for several days. We finally broke down and spent a few bucks on some ant traps, and almost immediately the ant issue was resolved. I shouldn’t be complaining because I have never had cockroaches, rats, tarantulas, scorpions, or any other really disgusting and dangerous pests. I should be happy that ants are the worst living things that penetrate the walls of my house. But somehow, it’s hard for me to be excited about an army of ants invading my personal space and eating all of my Ramen noodles.

Midnight Madness

One summer night Cody woke up with a hacking cough. This had become a regular occurrence, and I got up to try to calm him down. The only one thing that consistently seemed to stop the cough was to help him drink a sip of water every time he felt the need to cough. But even that was not working. I finally decided to take him downstairs and rock him until he could relax and go back to sleep.

Groggily, Kasey came staggering out of our room to try to help. Kasey is usually a very kind, gentle, understanding father, but when he gets woke up late at night, I would rather face an angry grizzly bear. So while I was desperately trying to keep Cody calm, Kasey was chasing him around the house and threatening him. He kept saying things like, “If you don’t stop coughing and crying, I’m going to drop you on your head!” This just upset Cody all the worse. He started running around in circles, whimpering like a little puppy, and trying to hide between my legs.

The one miracle of the night was that although Isabella shares a room with Cody, she stayed sound asleep in her crib the entire night. She was zonked, spread eagle on her tummy with her little head on the opposite end as the pillow, and her cheek pressed right up against the hard plastic head of her little dollie.

Kasey finally pulled himself together enough to start making comments that were at least halfway helpful rather than just empty threats. He looked at Cody and calmly said, “Cody, you have to stop coughing or you are going to make yourself throw up.” Right as he said this, Cody coughed especially hard and Kasey’s prophecy was fulfilled. Both Cody and I had to go change our pajamas. Luckily, my shirt caught most of the throw up and at least the carpet was saved.

After we got cleaned up, I took him in my arms and had a sweet moment with my son. I cradled him close and sang to him the songs I used to sing while I rocked him to sleep as an infant. At that moment I realized again how quickly life goes by and how precious it really is. About an hour later, Cody finally relaxed and fell asleep in my arms. I kissed his forehead and laid him gently back in his little toddler bed. I crawled back into my own bed and immediately started dreaming.

I was again awoken, this time by a blood curdling scream and, once again, bolted out of bed. I ran in to see what was going on. Cody was dancing around his bed shouting, “OWIE! OWIE!” I could tell that he was not fully awake, but I tried to talk to him anyway, and ask him where he was hurting. After a few tries, I finally figured out that he was hurting under his diaper. He is fully potty trained, but after drinking so much water earlier to try and stop the cough, I decided it would be safest to put on a diaper. I laid him down on the bed and opened the diaper to try and figure out the cause of his discomfort. And then, the unexpected happened. While my brain was very slowly registering what was going on, (it was very late after all) I felt a warm wet spray of liquid soak my new shirt. I had previously experienced this sensation, around the same time of night, about two years before. In fact, it happened often to my husband and I as new parents of a baby boy. My brain finally told my hands what to do, and I threw the diaper back around him. When he was finished peeing, I took his clothes off and ran to go change my own shirt, again. Kasey had gotten up in the meantime and when I came back into Cody’s room, he was staring at me incredulously and asked, “Why in the world is Cody in here by himself without any clothes on!??” Kasey often has the same problem that Cody just experienced of only waking up half way in the middle of the night so, try as he might, he could not figure out what I was telling him. I turned him back around and told him to please just go back to bed. He obeyed, and I proceeded to strip the sheets off the bed and get some new ones. Of course, none of the sheets that I could find were satisfactory to Cody, so we spent a few minutes trying to find something that he would be happy with. Finally I got him all settled back in bed, and just as he was about to slip into a deep slumber, he started coughing again.

The Dishwasher

I went to the dishwasher and opened it slowly. With a two and a half year old and an 18 month old, you never know what you’ll find when you open the dishwasher to unload it. This day wasn’t too bad. I only found a sheriff car stuffed in the box where the silverware goes. What you find in the dishwasher can never be as bad as what shows up in the dryer, however. A blue crayon or new tube of chapstick does much more damage to a load of white clothes than a small metal car can do to a plate.

So I called for Cody and Isabella to come help me empty the dish washer like I do every day. Or three or four times a day, depending on how many loads of dishes I end up doing. Today was not unusual. The two toddlers came running in, excited and ready to help.

We always start with the silverware, because if I’m not watching, the silverware can quickly become more than just eating utensils. Cody thinks everything should be a weapon of some sort. I never knew how destructive a seemingly innocent butter knife could be until it got in the hands of a curious two year old. So far I’ve managed to keep it away from anything that could be destroyed too badly by it… like Isabella’s eyes. But I have had to use the phrase, “We NEVER use silverware to fight” more than I ever expected.

After the silverware is safely stored in the highest drawer, we move on to the plates and cups and other various dishware items. I have to move fast here too. If I don’t, I often find one of my nicest glassware pieces hanging precariously from little Isabella’s pinky finger, or one of my nice plates balanced on top of Cody’s head.

We finished up the job with minimal damage, and moved on to another activity. Later in the evening I went to set the table and noticed that there were no serving spoons in the silverware tray. After looking for several minutes in all the drawers I could think of, Cody waltzed into the kitchen, gave a little bow, and said, “Here you go my lady,” as he handed me the entire supply of large spoons that had apparently been resting in the back of his fire truck/ bicycle that he rides around the kitchen terrorizing Isabella by threatening to run over her little toes. It’s never done in anger or cruelty, he just thinks it’s funny to watch her run for her life and yell like there is a snarling Rottweiler behind her.

By this time, you’re probably asking why I would ever let my two little children help me empty the dishwasher. By this time, I’m actually asking myself the same question.

January 2011 Cody 2 yrs 3 months Isabella 11 months

This Christmas Isabellie got: a new dollie, a beautiful new Christmas dress, and a new zebra coat. 

This Christmas Cody got: a horse he named Joe, a TON of animal figure things, new shoes, and a monkey that laughs that he is terrified of.

Bellie had a really hard time out in Colorado.  She cried every time we put her down and didn’t want anyone else to hold her.  We came home today and she has been back to normal.  I don’t think she’s wanted me to pick her up once the whole day.

There’s a song that Lady Gaga sings called “paparazzi” that I’ve had stuck in my head all week and yesterday Cody walked around the kitchen singing, “Pa-pa-ra-chi, Pa-pa-ra-chi” in different tunes!!

Bellie is starting to get her two front teeth!  They are just starting to poke through her little gums.  So cute.  He is in to everything!!  She’s so so curious and funny.

Isabel is definitely saying “mama” now for me.  I love love love when she calls for me like that.  It makes me feel so happy.

Cody has been super snuggly lately.  He’ll crawl into bed with us sometimes in the morning.  This morning he put his bum right up to Kasey and tooted and said “I farted”. Funny guy. J

Today we watching the football game and Cody got out his football and wanted to play.  It’s so funny, he gets down and says, “down set hike!”

This morning we were getting ready for church and we came out and Bell was sitting in her car seat!  She had crawled in on her own! She climbed out head first and was perfectly happy.

Isabellie is starting to say  “dada!”  Kasey eats it up.  He was tickling her and then would run and hide behind the wall and every time he disappeared she would say, “Da- da- da!”

The other day Cody called Kasey and talked to him for a few mins then Kase hung up but Cody wasn’t done talking to him so he sat there looking into the phone and screaming “Daddy!!! Daddy!” for like 10 minutes.

I was putting Cody to bed the other night and said, “night night Cody” and Bells was in my arms and she said  “nigh nigh!”  Now she always says night night when we say it!

Today Cody hurt his bum and came to me, turned around, and said “kiss it better mommy!”

Today we were playing darts and Cody loves to play with us.  Isabella was crawling all around and playing too.  When I made a good throw he looked up at me and said,  “Good job babe!”

We went to the Bean Museum with the kids today and they loved it! Later Grammy was asking him about the animals and he said, “a not alive, its alright, I like em!”

The other day Cody found my makeup and said “Mines Hiccup!”  He thought the word was Hiccup not makeup!!

We were watching a game last night and Cody was talking and I guess we weren’t paying attention because all the sudden he shouted, “Im talking guys!”

Cody’s new favorite thing when we’re driving is to say “Green light! Green light!” when we’re stopped at a stoplight.  When it turns green he says “Yay!  I did it!”  Now he doesn’t even bother saying “green light” half the time, he just takes the credit for it when it turns green and says, “I did it!” even if he didn’t say anything.

We went geocaching today and found some really really fun geocaches up Provo Canyon.  It was a blast, and we got all cold and muddy.  It was really fun.  Every time Cody saw deer poop he would say “LOOK! Reindeer Poot!”  3 reasons why that’s funny- 1^st he pointed every bit of poop out, 2^nd he calls it Reindeer instead of just deer, and 3^rd because he thought it was called Poot!