Warning: Not My Normal Pithy Witticisms

Okay, so I'm not even sure if "witticism" is a word, but I wanted to give you guys a heads up that this entry is not going to be the same hilarious stuff I usually write about my kids - although I will throw in a story about Ben at the end, just because it is funny.  I always say that I can't write until I'm inspired to write, but today I was inspired.

I am lucky enough to be able to attend the Global Leadership Conference that is being hosted by WCA today and tomorrow at numerous satellite churches around the country and globe.  But, that isn't what I'm going to write about (well, at least not entirely) - it is just providing context as to why I was at a table for lunch today with four complete strangers and two people who I know, but not as, let's say, BFFs.

Sooooo, we were discussing the morning session when one lady turned to another lady and asked, "do you work outside the home?"  I don't know why, but this has been turning around in my head in all sorts of contexts today.  I'm not even sure where I want to start.  Let me start with the petty, then move to the profound (at least as profound as I get - which isn't really that profound).

If I was the type to take offense, which most anyone who knows me, knows that I am pretty hard to offend, BUT, if I was the type, which should I find more offensive:  the fact that you would never ask a man if "they worked outside the home" or that you are incredulous enough to believe that I would entrust my four loving little children to someone else for care and nurturing during these obviously formative years?  I know that many people have very strong opinions that either A. a woman is entitled to contribute to society in the work force (kids be damned) or B. once you have kids, the most important thing you can do for your kids is to stay home and raise them (career be damned).

Then I got to thinking how unbelievably, undeniably blessed I am.  I get to do both.  And I feel pretty strongly about both of them.  I can contribute to society, use the smarts and skills God blessed me with and get the heck away from my kids a few days a week and then I can roll around with my kids, take them to swimming lessons and get the heck away from the office a few days a week.  It is the best of both worlds and I just wanted to rub it in to everyone how awesome it is.

So, there are two distinct mornings at my house:  the mornings mom has to go to work (i.e. shower) and the mornings mom doesn't have to go to work.  Recently, on a non-work morning Ben came into my room, looked at me and said (with obvious disdain and disgust):  "Mom, why do you always look like that when you don't go to work?"  He was noting my ever constant ponytail, thick elastic waistband shorts and gym t-shirt with flip flops signature look, I think.  And I said (not taking the bait of asking him innocently...like what?  As I am sure he would have replied with something like "a slobby loser") "How do you want me to look, Ben?" "Like a pretty princess." "Hmmmm, and how would I go about looking like a pretty princess?"  "Duh (insert eye roll) put on one of your princess gowns.  Ugh" (insert exasperated sigh and unsaid comment of, Mom - Maddie can pull it together with some sort of sequin and tulle every day - and she's only four - what is your excuse?")

And those, my friends, are the days I am so grateful to have an office to go the next day.

Genuis Parenting

Here's the deal:  I'm not a very good parent.  What I am, is a pretty good actress.  So, when the curtain goes up and I'm not prepared, that is always a bad moment.  I've had a couple of these lately.  Let me set the stage:  Saturday morning, gorgeous day.  About 9 am, birds are chirping, rainbows are shining, etc., etc.  I am cleaning up from a delicious homemade breakfast (cereal) and encourage the little children to go outside and get some fresh air.  As I take out our empty milk jug to the recycling (because of course, we are also a green family) I look over and see Zachary punching Wesley.  And I launch.  Hard.  Seriously, I have already had 40 minutes with these little beasts and my buttons have all been pushed.  I scream at him so loud that it honestly hurt my throat for the next 40 minutes, yank him by the arm to come sit on the steps in timeout and then look to see the damage he inflicted.  As I look up for the first time I make eye contact with about three sets of neighbors and all of the random strangers in my neighborhood as apparently it is garage sale day and I am on center stage.  Awesome.  Love it when people not only see me launch, but see me launch in my grungy pajamas.  And......scene. 

However, for every horrifyingly embarrassing moment (like when I went inside for two seconds and came back out to see Wesley standing in the middle of the street laughing at me while some of the same neighbors probably wondered who let the 18-month go unsupervised for even one second) I have (what I believe) to be a stroke of genius.  Ben has been having some serious attitude issues lately (which Zach then thinks is hilarious to mock.  I'm pretty sure he thinks my name has been changed to Stupid Mommy).  So, tonight, I asked him to get out of the bath, get his pajamas on and keep an eye on his brother Wes who was locked in his room.  He proceeds to get out of the bath, go into his bedroom and then go all Magic Mike on his brother, because when isn't a naked dance hilarious?  I wasn't so mad about the dancing, it was more the non-listening (although eventually he has to learn about the non-dancing, too).  So, I told him that the movie he was planning to watch for the night was cancelled (knowing full well I wouldn't go through with it, because how else does one find time to blog unless they park their kids in front of a movie?)  I let him scream for a while and think that I wasn't going to let him come down and then I saw it:  his uneaten (as usual) vegetables for dinner.  I told him to come down, asked him if he wanted to watch the movie (yes!) and said, then sit there and eat those vegetables and when they are gone, I will start the movie.  Funny how corn started to look sort of appetizing.  Feel free to use this technique at home.  And I will continue to pretend to be a good mom:)

Happy Father's Day

So, I am very lucky in the fact that I have great guys in my life and would be remiss if I didn't at least mention them on Father's Day.  Of course, I should probably start with the father of my children, Matt - without him, we wouldn't have the crazy, ridiculous litter of children we call our family (or do you start with my dad, because without him, I wouldn't be possible OR do you start with his dad, my grandpa because without him, my dad wouldn't be possible therefore making me not possible...).  Well, my executive decision is to start with my husband. 
Matt is an amazing father.  He is involved and hands-on with all of our kids, even in the tiny tiny baby years where a lot of guys look at their children more as small creatures that they could break and should probably not be trusted to handle.  He is willing to take on all four kids when I need some time away without hesitation.  He supports us and leads our family in a way that I admire and am in awe of.  Yesterday, he took Zach and Ben golfing (after dropping off Maddie at a play date) while Wes was napping and I had three hours of uninterrupted quiet bliss.  Of course, I used it to clean the kids' rooms, which was sort of ridiculous, but I think I could have been peeling wallpaper and would have enjoyed it because it was by myself with no one demanding anything of me.  Thank you Matt, for being so amazing.
Then there is my dad - my dad and I have always gotten along swimmingly.  He is a simple guy that takes life for what it is.  He isn't easily flustered and always has time to give the kids a ride on the golf cart.  He was a great guy to have around growing up and I'm excited for the time my kids will get to spend with him.  They love visiting grandpa's house (granted, that may be for the four-wheeler and golf cart - although Grandpa comes as sort of an added bonus). 
Then you have my two brothers - one a dad, one a great uncle to his six neices and nephews.  My brothers and I fought A LOT growing up and I see so much of our relationship in my kids.  The stupid bickering, the ganging up on each other, the constant fighting (sounds lovely, right?).  But, then I look at how much I enjoy hanging out with my brothers now and am excited that my kids will have three of their best friends around always, because they are family.
Then you have my three boys.  Ben with his sweet nature, Zach with his sarcastic nature and Wes with his spitfire nature.  I am starting to realize that I am totally outnumbered by dudes.  But at least they are all pretty decent dudes.  The other night, Zach climbed into bed with us (there was a monster in his bed you know) and I told him, Zach, this bed is not made for three people.  He looked at me sweetly and said, "Well, then you better get out.".  Ah, with men like this in my life, what else can a girl ask for!

How Did I Ever Have Friends?

Okay, so over the last few months, I have become very aware of an annoying trait that I (and other people in my family) may possibly possess.  Turns out, I'm a loud talker.  Who knew?  Well, I'm guessing pretty much everyone I have ever known knows, but I had no idea.  Perhaps I'm a little hard of hearing or something. 

The reason this has become so glaringly obvious to me is lately we have been trying to teach Zachary the difference between indoor and outdoor voices.  Turns out, he has only an outdoor voice and beyond that, apparently so do I.  It is really crazy annoying.  I'm not sure how anyone hangs out with me and to all of my friends that have hung in there for me, thank you.  I'm so grateful that you want to still associate with me with the potential damage I have done and continue to do to your eardrums. 

So Zach recently went on a shopping trip with some friends to Target and even his three year old friend had to tell him to tone it down a bit.  The kid is amazingly loud.  And amazingly neurotic.  We are really struggling with him right now - not only with his noise level but also his ability to freak out about pretty much anything:  He can't get his shirt off, he can't turn on the water, his sister looked at him, his seat belt is stuck, you get the picture.  I have taken to calmly telling him to calm down, it's not that big of a deal which is met with one of the following responses (at an amazing decibel, usually in some sort of enclosed space that makes the sound even further resonate):  "I can't talk normally!" "Don't tell me to calm down - that is a naughty word!" "It is stupid - goll dangit!" The other bad thing about this trait in Zach is that you never really know what is going to come out of his mouth.  It could be something amazingly clever or witty, but often it is something amazingly clever and inappropriate. 

If I will warn my kids of one thing, it is that God has an amazing sense of humor and a way to craftily work some karmic retribution in little ways in my children (and therefore, the same will be true for their children).  Zach is obviously pay back for all of my friends and family that has put up with my super loud voice over the last 33 years.  By the way, I am now incredibly self conscious, so if you are talking to me on the phone and I suddenly drop the noise level, it is because I just remembered that I don't have to shout at you. 

A Common Thread

Dirt.  Grass seed.  Rocks.  Sidewalk chalk.  Cigarette butts.  Zip ties.  Bubble solution.  Bubble wands.  Sand.  Grass.  Leaves.  Sticks.  Trains.  Matchbox cars.  Pencils.  iPhones.  iPods.  Remote controls.  Sponges.  Kleenex.  Paper towels.  Uncooked rice.  Cooked rice.  Magnets.  Ice cubes.  Straws.  Beads.  Nails.  Thumbtacks.  Silk flowers.  Coasters.  Poopy diapers.  Poopy wipes.  Clean diapers.  Clean wipes.  Barettes.  Ponytail holders.  Cotton balls.  Brushes.  Eyeliner.  Toilet paper.  Earthworms. 

Ah, yes.  The earthworm.  If you haven't figured out what I am writing about, those are the most recent things that came to mind that Wesley has put in his mouth in the last 96 or so hours.  The kid either has a serious case of pica or a penchant for knowing exactly what he shouldn't put in his mouth, so of course, he puts it there.  The earthworm was actually a couple of weeks ago and all I could do was stare at him and throw up in my mouth a little bit.  Thank God I have an incredibly awesome neighbor who doesn't fear touching gross things the way I do, so she kindly swatted it out of his mouth and launched it into the yard.  Wes was left smacking his lips with what little earthworm he may have ingested along with the dirt appetizer that came along with it. 

If I haven't said it before, I will now.  Matt and I are in agreement that God knows what he was doing when he gave us Wesley last.  Otherwise, the Brogans just may have been a three-person household. 

Guess What?

Guess what is my topic for today and it applies to two of my kids.  First off, Zachary.  For those of you who have spoken with me lately, you probably know that Zachary is driving me clear up a wall.  The kid can be so good and so sweet and so stinking cute, but by God does he have a stubborn naughty streak that I have no idea what to do with.  I have tried EVERYTHING!  Sometimes, I find something that works great and we have a good week and the next week it is like we are back at square one.  Today the kid has been sent to his room, swatted (politically correct way to say spanked), sat in a corner, had his bike taken away, had his Jeep taken away and had outside taken away (I'm not sure how well I am going to be able to enforce these, which may be a large part of my problem.)  I had to take him out of his room and sit him in a corner, because while he was up in his room he opened his piggy bank and his brother's piggy bank and started taking the coins out of Ben's, because he wanted his bank to be full.  Yep, a little petty larceny going on while being punished - this kid is going to either go to law school or prison.  But, I digress.  So, the other morning, Zach came down early and Matt was already gone, so I asked Zach if he wanted to get in the bed and snuggle with me.  It was one of those tender moments.  Quiet, the sun was just starting to come up, you could hear birds chirping, a nice breeze coming in from the windows.   Zach was all nestled into the crook of my arm like he used to do as a baby.  I told him "Guess what Zach?" and he looks at me, his beautiful hazel eyes smiling, "What, mama?".  "I love you," I told him.  He smiled knowingly.  "Guess what, mom?" he asked me.  I smiled, waiting for him to return the phrase, "What?" I asked.  "Chicken Butt.".  And then he laughs hysterically.  Yep, that Zach is a real charmer.

My other "Guess what" relates to Wesley.  I don't understand babies.  They eat, poop, run around all day, having no cares in the world.  He lays down in his nice cozy crib, a glass of water, an extra binky and his Super Buddy all by his side.  And then it begins.  Usually, with his sixth spidersense, he knows that I have just finished putting away dishes or laundry or whatever it is I am finishing up at about 11:00 pm and have finally put my head on the pillow.  Thus begins the crying.  Like the good wife and mother that I am, I roll over and ask Matt "Are you going to get him, or should I" (except implying that I really don't want to get him, will you?) Matt goes up (he is an awesome husband, but Wesley is also smart enough to know that dad doesn't give into his crap and he might as well lay back down) and lays by him for awhile, until he is calm.  But then it is like the kid has crazy thoughts going through his mind and can't get comfortable.  He sits up like "Guess what! I just had a dream about poop!" and lays back down.  Cries a little more.  Then "Guess what! I think this tooth might finally be coming through, let's look at it right now." Cries a little more, lays back down.  "Guess what! I think tomorrow might be the day I graduate to 24 month clothes - what do you guys think?" Cries a little more, lays back down.  So in reality, I have no idea what he is really thinking about, but it must be pretty important stuff to a little guy if he can't sleep through the night, what, with all the worry.  Do they prescribe Baby Xanax? 

What's Wrong With Me?

I'm sure most of you haven't given this a lot of consideration, but we have four car seats in our minivan.  So, when we take on an extra adult passenger, like we did yesterday, I am typically relegated to the back seat between Maddie and Ben.  First of all, when you look at the spot between two car seats, you think - well, that looks pretty roomy.  Then you sit down and realize that the distance from hip to hip in reality, is much larger than what you imagine in your head.  So I am literally wedged between a four-year old and a six-year old, much too far back to take part in the adult conversation going on in the front seat and much to annoyed to take part in the conversation going on around me.  Is that bad?  Do most parents enjoy the pratter and chit chat of their small children, because I really don't.  Once in a while, I enjoy listening to their conversations when they don't know I'm listening - those can be pretty funny.  I especially enjoy their theological discussions.  However, what I really can't stand is my kids telling me what I am supposed to say.  For instance, Maddie will say "Mom, now ask where is my right hand?" So, I will oblige.  And she will hold it up from where she was hiding it behind her back and I will do the obligatory laugh and tell her how surprised I was.  I can handle that - if we did it once.  Instead, she wants to do it 15 times until I am about ready to respond with "Maddie, I could give two $hit$ where your right hand is."  Of course, I don't actually say that.  This road trip I came up with the perfect solution - an iPhone and headphones.  I'm not really sure why I haven't thought of it sooner.  I just turned on my Pandora, put in my headphones and completely tuned out the noise around me.  Once in a while I would get them giggling by poking them with my feet or telling them really loudly that I couldn't hear them (which, blissfully, I really couldn't) and felt that I was still being a good enough parent.  Problem solved.

A few quick comments on Zach, since the little fellar did turn three this week.  He is, by far, the funniest kid we have.  He is also, by far, the most bi-polar kid we have.  But, 90% of the time he is pretty stinking enjoyable.  I have often said that for a three year old he has an amazing vocabulary, but beyond that he understands sarcasm and actually has some comedic timing.  He made everyone smile that wished him a "Happy Birthday" by wishing them a "Happy Birthday" right back.  We were walking through the mall yesterday (a trip to Iowa City made well worth it by being capped off by a trip to Chipotle) and he was telling me how he hated the "excavator" (escalator) and would much rather ride the "elebator" (you can probably figure that one out) when a lady walked by and just started laughing at the conversation and said, "oh, excavator - how cute! That is one for the baby book!" To which, I nodded politely and said "Yep, this one really is a funny one." When in my head I'm thinking, oh lady, if you only knew half of what this kid said - I had asked him a few minutes prior if he needed to go to the bathroom as he was grabbing as if he needed to and he just looked at me and said "No mom, I just like to grab my junk."  Now there is one for the baby book.