Homemade Love

Last year Beeman wanted to make homemade Valentines for his Kindergarten class. I saw these in Family Fun magazine and thought they were very cute. But cuteness comes at a price. It took for-freaking-ever to just do the prep work and cut all the squares and slots and strips and hearts and I was glad I started a week early.

Getting him to sit down and weave them and then write on them was an even bigger chore. He got about halfway through when he decided he wasn't going to write on them anymore, only sign his name. He was very distressed when I didn't agree with his plan.

This year I thought for sure he would want to buy some from the store and was shocked and dismayed when he said he wants to make them again. The same kind. Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut and pick up a box of Transformers valentines? Why, oh why, oh why? So the cutting begins. With 2-year-old help of course.

Shoemaker's Elves

Blah blah blah. Halloween costumes.

Blah blah blah. Trick or Treating.

We've all heard all the stories. Except this one.

The area dentists have some deal with Payless Shoes in which they exchange candy for shoes for the less fortunate. I don't know exactly how it works but its Candy For Shoes. Our elementary school promotes it and we can donate the candy straight to them and they'll get it to the dentists. Last year I let the kids keep a pound of candy each and then we donated the rest.

Apparently the teachers have been talking it up to the students because BeeMan knew all about it. Last night while trick or treating he kind of ran out of steam and said he was done. He had enough for himself AND some shoes. I said all right, he didn't have to go to any more houses.

After we got home and they had their booty all poured out on the floor making Wall Street-worthy trades with each other, BeeMan asked if we could make the leftovers into shoes ourselves.

Suppressing a giggle, I just said no.

He said, "Yeah. I guess you need a special machine."

Yes. Yes, you do. Or some elves.

Follow the Yellow Drip Road

On Wednesday Snickety and BeeMan's room was a disaster so I sent them in there to clean it. However, as soon as I turned my back they both slipped into their bathroom. Together. Kids together in the bathroom with the door closed is never a good thing. When my sister and I went into the bathroom together we were either eating spoonfuls of Country Time lemonade powder or doing experiments that included piling baby powder and Old Spice aftershave onto a Kleenex.

I didn't actually notice them until BeeMan came out. And being naturally suspicious, I opened the door and caught an eyeful of Snick sittin' on the pot. Nice. I closed the door most of the way so I could talk to them both and asked what they were doing in there. Beeman said they both had to go to the bathroom really bad RIGHT THEN. I pointed out that they can't go pee at the same time anyway (which they COULD but I wasn't going to say that, lest it become it pastime) so why didn't Snick clean the bedroom while BeeMan was going to the bathroom and then BeeMan clean while Snick was going? He shined me on and just said "Oh yeah. We could have."

I kind of thought there was more to the story but I have to pick my battles so I just went downstairs. A few minutes later I heard SSB say, "OK, but I still have to tell Mommy you lied to her" and he came downstairs quietly chuckling and told me I had been duped. I said, "By whom? The little freckled-faced one?" Yes.

Apparently as soon as I left BeeMan opened the bathroom door and said, "Whew! That was a close one!" Not gifted in the area of sneakiness, he said this within earshot of SSB who was obviously sitting in the next room and thus began the interrogation. Knowing they were busted, they folded like a cheap card table and made the job very easy. They spilled their guts about how they had been peeing into empty pop bottles and keeping them hidden in their closet. Why? Because they wanted to see how yellow the toilet would get when they finally dumped it. OK. Time for good cop/bad cop and I am always Bad Cop. ALWAYS. I went upstairs and made a dramatic entrance into their room where they were busy as beavers cleaning up.

"I'm mad!" I announced. "Do you know why?"

"Because we peed in bottles" BeeMan whimpered.

"No. Because you lied about it. You guys can pee into your HANDS for all I care but you can NOT lie. And Snick, even though you didn't say a word, it was still lying on your part."

"OK."

"So. Do you guys want a spanking or do you want to do an extra chore?"

"Extra chore" they said in unison.

"OK" I said as I left. "And if you want it to be yellow, just take a vitamin in the morning."

Tee hee.

So now they have started over to get it yellower. Here it is hidden in the sleeping bag in their closet. Ew.

Does a Bear Poop in the Woods?

Yesterday while driving Pootie to track practice at 6:45 a.m. she was unusually talkative. Almost manic. She does this when she is feeling guilty or upset. Most of her ranting was about a fort out in the "woods" next to our house. (The kids call it the forest but its just a strip of trees between our neighborhood and the private property next to us.) She and Taz had gone out to their friend's fort with him and were having a good time until Taz decided to take a leak right then and there.

Now. I know males of all ages pee outside from time to time. They can, so they do. And they love it. In fact, just a couple weeks ago I walked out the front door and saw BeeMan hydrating the rock wall between our house and the neighbors' and laughing his little head off. Its kinda gross but I don't really care that he did it, just that he did it in the front yard next to the driveway. You know, where the street is and all the people in cars passing by.

I can easily forgive a just-turned-six-year-old for doing it once in the front yard and I could probably forgive a 13 year old for doing it in woods if he had the sense to move away from his sister and friend and keep his junk hidden. But as it was, Pootie caught an eyeful and seemed a little unsettled by it, as evidenced by the constant blabbering.

"Look at that sign" she said in the car. "It looks like an optical illusion. Back there it looked like it was curving back, but now up here it looks like its curving toward us. I don't even know why I looked."

"At the street sign?"

"No. Last night. At IT. I thought he was squirting a water bottle and I looked up."

When Taz got home I told him to come home when he has to pee. Its NOT far. His answer, which I could have said along with him for I knew what was coming, was "But I had to go really bad." I told him to go before he leaves the house then and left it at that.

Less than three hours later Taz and Pootie were back at the fort and this time they had Snick with them. This was a thorn in my side anyway because they hadn't finished their chores and getting their stuff done on time has been an ongoing battle so I met them on the sidewalk with all kinds of admonishments. To my surprise I didn't get much resistance. I should have known something was up. I should have recognized their relief at being in trouble for leaving and not for anything they did while gone. But I didn't.

I was only caught up to speed later at bedtime by a, once again, prattling Pootie Pie. Just out of the blue she blurts out, "We had to go poop really bad in the woods."

"WHAT?? You went POOP in the WOODS??"

"Yeah. I had to go really bad."

"How did you wipe your butt?"

"I didn't. But I took a shower."

Can you picture me at this point? Try.

Actually I had a pretty exhausting day because of Bunny's constant whining and use of the word no and so by the time I learned this bit of news I was done for. I just sat. Sat and stared. No yelling. No flailing about. Pootie isn't used to this apparently, so just kept blabbing.

"Well. At least I didn't use my undershirt to wipe and then just leave it there like Snickety did!"

"He pooped in the woods too?"

"Yeah."

Ah. That's where the "we" came from. Of course.

Now I am just a deflated blob. A mommy puddle. So she didn't stop there. She had one more thing to add as I melted away.

"And Taz thought he'd get in a whole lot of trouble 'cuz he peed again. But he had to go really bad!"

Nocturnalness

At dinner the other night PootiePie said that BeeMan doesn't want to share a room with her anymore. I asked BeeMan why he wanted to change and he said because of PootiePie's gerbil. He nibbles on everything and rumbles around all night. He has eaten his houses and bowls and anything he can pull into the cage, like BeeMan's underwear. He's a biter and he is not greatly loved. And while not doing anything to promote it, Pootie is patiently awaiting his demise so she can get a guinea pig instead. In the meantime she diligently feeds him and gives him water and buys him new houses and plays with him as much as she can stand to be bitten.

Although she doesn't like him either, Pootie took offense to the extreme of Beeman's disdain. More likely she was offended just by the fact that he wanted to move out away from her more than his reason behind it. If anyone should want to move out it should be her because she really does have the short end of the stick. He hardly ever helps her clean up in there and he snores like a Harley (but he doesn't believe us when we tell him). She said, "It's not like you can't sleep. I go to bed a half hour after you do and you're always asleep. I'M the one who has to put up with the gerbil AND you snoring!!

To which Bee replied, "The gerbil snores?"

An Idea Man

BeeMan has the BEST ideas. He always knows what presents he wants for Christmas and his birthday. He knows what he wants to buy other people. He knows what kind of party he wants and where and who he wants to invite.

He just never tells us any of this.

His birthday is coming up in a few weeks and we haven't made any plans yet. There are just too many people and too many things to do around here. Well. WE haven't. HE has. In the car after school recently he said he was inviting Calvin to his Chuck E Cheese party.

"Really?" I said. I hadn't heard him utter the words Chuck and Cheese in the same sentence in at least a year. "Did you talk to Dad about a Chuck E Cheese party?"

"No" he said in a slightly annoyed and confused voice. Why talk to Dad about it? It was HIS party. He didn't need DAD'S input.

"We're going to Chuck E Cheeses then coming back to our house to eat Transformer cake."

"Transformer cake?"

"Yeah. They have Transformer cakes at Wal-Mart."

OK. I hope he's right because I can't make a Transformer cake. No matter where we ended up having it or what kind of cake we had, I figured I better find out who else he wanted to invite. It is his first year at school and thus has a plethora of kids to choose from so I asked who else he was inviting.

"Just the rest of my team." I thought he meant the rest of his class. That was a little scary. I really don't want to be in charge of 20 kindergarteners anywhere especially at a place where they encourage a kid to be a kid.

"No. The rest of my TEAM. My racing team." I was beginning to remember him talking about that before. They have races at recess. I asked if his team has a name.

He nodded. "The Red Jumping Jacks."

Ah, yes. The Red Jumping Jacks.

"What about any girls? Are you inviting any girls."

"No."

"Not even Zoe?" She's a new girl that moved to our street and he really likes her. And I really like her mom. She may be my last shot at an actual friend.

"OK. Zoe."

"Well. Not JUST Zoe" I said. "She won't like being the only girl."

"OK. Zoe and Rachel."

Oh oh. "But what about Valerie? You can't invite Rachel and not Valerie." They are twins in his class.

"OK. Valerie too."

Just to give him more options I said, "What about Marybeth?"

"OK."

"And Haley?"

"No."

"Why not? You can't invite Marybeth and not Haley! They're best friends!" And Haley lives right next door. I've already missed or ruined my chance at friendship with HER mom, but it would be a huge breech of etiquette anyway.

It was at this point he flopped back in the seat and gave a huge sigh. Why was I tormenting him like this? He HAD it all planned out. I was ruining it all. I relented and said, "OK. We'll talk about it later."

A couple blocks later I heard him mutter to Snickety, "Well. At least I'm bringing Spiderman cupcakes for the class snack that day."

Juice Box Hero

Xbox has been the bane of my life. The kids cry about it, fight about it, are addicted to it and get their brains sucked out by it. They get up on weekends and start playing and don't eat breakfast or brush their teeth or get dressed or anything. It overtakes them. I hate Xbox and was glad when ours broke.

Alas they got a 360 for Christmas from Grandma and Grandpa. Great for them, not so great for me. I decided to not be Grinchy though and just go with it. I even bought a few games. They loved playing Guitar Hero at other people's houses so we got Rock Band.

Oh, Rock Band. The boon of my existence.

The first couple days after Christmas I didn't play. I don't do Xbox. I have tried several games, sucked at them and didn't have any fun. SSB came downstairs a couple times and said they needed me to sing up there because the kids didn't have a singer. No, thank you.

But then the kids went to Oklahoma and left us to our own devices. SSB, Dupree and I stayed up every single night and played Rock Band. We couldn't get enough. I was hooked. I RAWKED and was loving it. We had our own band and our own characters and it was FUN! So fun. Thank you, Microsoft.

Since the kids came home we haven't played much, but we did for a while last night. Snickety was on guitar, PootiePie played drums and I sang. Beeman likes to sing too, but he can't read much so I sit next to him and when he knows part of a song he'll grab the mic from me and belt it out. He's GOOD! He hits the right notes and gets an "Awesome" rating most of the time. He likes Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive" and he likes Foreigner. Their song came up and even though I'm not great at it, we did it anyway. I didn't know Beeman even knew that one. I was surprised. I don't have the heart to tell him it's "JUKE Box Hero" though not "Juice Box Hero."

I wonder what he thinks that song is about. A much-anticipated Capri Sun delivery man? A chugging contest through a teeny tiny straw? He's so cute. I'm sure he's never even heard of a juke box. Ipod, yes. Zune, of course. But not a juke box.