Lethal Weapon Bathroom Cleaning

Today was a bathroom cleaning day. Oh boy, did they need a good scrubbing. I'll be the first to admit my bathrooms don't get cleaned enough lately. Mainly because it takes me so long - I'm constantly being interrupted by one child or another.

Josh decided he had to help me. So I armed him with a spray bottle full of water and a dish towel. He was in heaven! He sprayed the toilets ("Hahahaha! Mommy! I sprayed the potty! Bahahaha!"), the tub, the mirrors, the floors, himself. Pretty much any surface in the bathroom got sprayed.


Although he was constantly underfoot it kept him occupied. His continual gabbing was good background noise as I cleaned.

But then the talking stopped. I didn't notice at first; I was on my knees, scrubbing the bottom of the tub. But it soon dawned of me: it was quiet. Too quiet.

I turned around to see the backside of this:


I had put Cole just outside the bathroom door. He's a social baby and likes to be by people. So of course it was only a matter of time before Josh decided that Cole needed a good spritzing. I can't believe I hadn't seen it coming.

The spray bottle was just inches from Cole's face. I knew if I yelled out at Josh he'd be startled and spray Cole. So I started speaking in the reasoned, purposeful , and tense tone of a police officer trying to talk a crazy guy with a bomb. Because basically that's who I was talking to.

Me: Joshua. Roper. Madsen. Step away from the baby.

Josh: No.

Me: Do NOT spray Cole. You will be in big trouble.

Josh (still standing over Cole with the Spray bottle pointed at his face): I didn't spray him!

Me: No, not yet. Don't spray him.

Josh: No.

Me (trying the ol' distraction technique): Why don't you spray the potty again? Hahaha! The potty?!

Josh: Noooo...

Me (trying for empathy, which is ridiculous because as of yet Josh doesn't have an empathetic molecule in his body): Don't spray Cole. He won't like it and he will cry and be sad.

Josh: No, he will like it.

Me: You don't want to do this. I know you don't.

Josh: Yes. No.

Me (getting desperate because I know I'm gonna lose this battle and end up with a very angry baby): Josh. DO NOT SPRAY THAT BABY. Don't do it. Big time outs!

At this point I saw him start to pull the trigger, so I lunged for the bottle. It was all slow-mo and action scene-like.

This ended in: the trigger being pulled, Cole getting his legs sprayed (which he didn't care about), and a rather long time-out on his bed for Mr. Josh for not listening to me.

Tomorrow's action-packed adventure: Die Hard Cleaning the Kitchen.

Soccer Stud

Spencer has been playing soccer for about a month now, but it's taken me a while to get around to posting about it.

Today was team picture day. Since I have no desire whatsoever to spend $16 minimum (robbery!) on pictures, I decided to snap a few of my own. Here are the best two:


What I love about Spencer playing soccer is watching all the kids do funny things. A squirrel in a tree can distract them for three or four minutes, and there's nothing that coach can do during that time. I've seen some stop right in the middle of practice to examine a bug on the ground. Simple plays often end in large group hugs that consume the entire team. And hands? Nobody can seem to remember that you can't use them, even if it's to reposition the ball so you can kick it better.

In other words: five year olds playing soccer = simply hilarious.

One of Those Days

Have you ever had one of those days where...

...your three year old wakes you up at 2:30am for no apparent reason. And then your four month old, who has been sleeping through the night for at least six weeks, wakes you up at 4:30am also for no apparent reason because it sure isn't to eat. Then your rotgut older boys wake up at 5:45am and decide that this is the perfect time to play computer, only before they play they have to have a screaming match in the office (which shares a wall with your bedroom) about who gets to turn on the light. And even though you try to ignore them you just can't, so you march into the office (because your husband, who is awake, apparently cannot be bothered even though you've been out of bed twice during the night now) and yell at the boys and threaten their lives if they don't STOP SCREAMING!!! And they look at you as if you're crazy, start playing computer, and ignore you as you stomp off to bed.

And you get back to sleep... for 45 minutes. Because then the alarm goes off. And the kids are all rotten because they think you should be a short-order cook for breakfast and start making demands for anything but the eggs and toast you are making for them, which is ridiculous because you never just make them whatever they want for breakfast. Then the toast burns and you just want to swear. And they're all loud and whiny and you just want to run away but you can't because then the school would call you about why your kindergartner wasn't in school today and you'd look like a terrible mother.

So then you clean the house and even touch-up paint the walls because, oh boy, they've needed it for a looooonngg time and all the marks are oddly all four feet and lower. And during this you're constantly changing diapers, feeding babies, tripping over toys, and trying to ignore the insane demands of your three year old, which is next to impossible because he's decided to literally hang on to your leg to make sure you can hear him. And you notice a strange stain on your pajamas and realize that it's poop. Poop on your pajamas. That's been there for several hours.

You finally get a shower and never want to get out. But you have to because you hear a strange crashing sound coming from the kids' bedroom and you can hear your three year old say 'oops', not because he's loud but because he's run into the bathroom, yelling and babbling nonsense. And you also hear the baby, who has woken from his as-of-then 20 minute nap because of the aforementioned crash. And if that baby gets going it'll take a good 15 minutes to calm him down.

And you spend the rest of the the day dealing with rotgut kids who won't behave and feel the need to make huge messes and scream and fight and be considerably obnoxious and disobedient no matter how many time outs you give. It's raining, so you can't throw them outside. And you're just so tired you want to cry, but you can't because you're too tired to cry. And you try to get stuff for your church calling done, but you just can't think straight, and anyways you're too grouchy to feel the spirit enough to write the talk and sharing time you have to plan.

And you change more diapers, get spit up on more, trip on lots of toys, and even get more poop on you.

And you finally make it to dinner, and you're making it, although it's not what you planned because you wisely decided not to go to the grocery store today with your crazy brood. But it'll be good anyways, and things are starting to look up because the older boys have calmed down a little now that SpongeBob is on the boob tube and the baby is asleep. And you're looking forward to your no-children-allowed shopping trip tonight because you absolutely have to go buy some new pants because all of your old ones are really old since you were pregnant last winter.

But then your husband calls and you just know it's because he's gonna be late tonight. Again. Because he's always late now and the kids and you are going crazy from it. And you try not to be grouchy about it over the phone but you don't do a very good job. But then your husband isn't that late so you can all have dinner together as a family. And by 'as a family' I mean that you and your husband eat but your kids all whine and complain and refuse to eat even though the food is good. (They'd whine and complain if you served popsicles and candy bars; they just have something against dinner.)

And then there is great weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth at bed time, mainly because they both claim they are sooooo hungry. But when offered their dinners they refuse; they don't want dinner. They want a bedtime snack. And all you want to do is give them a bedtime smack, but you don't because so far you don't believe in smacking your children, but boy are you thinking about changing your philosophy on that tonight.

And then you finally get to sneak out of the house. And you buy some pants that are actually on sale! But before you buy them you have to stand in line behind a herd of college freshman boys who are all buying ties for some reason, and who are talking conspicuosly loud and are making you feel very old and frumpy, because you realize that is probably how they see you since you have no make-up on, your hair is messily pulled back, and are wearing spit-up stained clothes.

And then you go grocery shopping, only it's like there's some big storm coming or something because half of what you need isn't in stock. And you remember that's why you usually go shopping during the day.

You finally get home at quarter to ten and you can hear your baby hollering in the house while you're still in the garage. For some reason he loves you and hates daddy and has been screaming for over an hour, but stops crying when you hold him, but heaven forbid you should try to put the groceries away.

So you nurse him and he keeps unlatching because he wants to look around and that really hurts and it takes forever to finally get him fed and asleep. And you put the groceries away and get thing ready for the day and fall on the couch and realize that you still haven't blogged today.

Have you ever had a day like that?

Yeah, me too.

Cole at Four Months

Cole turned four months old last week. He is now a strapping 26" long and 17 pounds 5 ounces. His doctor said that if he were one of one hundred random babies his age, he'd be the biggest. By quite a bit. That's my boy!

Here are a few of Cole's current hobbies:
- Spitting up on mom. Or dad. But mostly mom.
- Staring at his brothers, and wiggling with glee while watching them play.
- Staring like a deer caught in headlights when the camera is out.
- Cooing and gooing. Shrieking and laughing and generally making his presence known.
- Eating. And eating. And eating some more. He is apparently storing up for winter. (Solids are in the near future, thank heaven!)
- Sleeping from 8pm to 6:30am. GOOD BOY!!!
- Looking at himself in the mirror.
- Grabbing things. Well, trying to. He's getting better. It's only a matter of time when I drop my guard and he makes a lunge for the Sacrament tray at church.
- Sticking out his tongue. And licking things. Always with the licking!
- Wiggling. All. The. Time. When eating. When getting a diaper change. When being held. When not being held. But not when sleeping. That's only time this boy holds still.
- Chewing on mommy's shoulder.
- Chewing on his hands. All. The. Time. (See wiggling reference.) Only, he also chews on them in his sleep. I've seen it.
- Generally looking quite adorable.

I Know - I Have A Problem. But I Don't Want Help

Look what jumped into the cart today while I was at JoAnne's.


Seriously, I was just as surprised as anyone. I was like "Hey, I can't buy more pumpkins! Get outta here!"
"But we're 50% off, " they replied. "And terribly cute."
"Oh, well, then I guess I have to buy you."

Mail Call!

Cole received his first letter today.

It was from the insurance company. Dude, seriously? Do I really pay my insurance premiums so that they can send letters to four month olds? Oh well, that's a rant for another post...

I figured that since the letter was addressed to him I'd let him have a go at it. Here's how it went, with Cole commentary included. (Best read with a British accent. Because I'm pretty sure Cole thinks in a British accent.)

"Ah, yes, the morning post. Thank you, Mother. You are truly an invaluable asset to our household."

"Well then, this looks interesting. I suppose I should go ahead and open this correspondence."

"Hmm... this envelope is putting up more of a fight than I am used to. Maybe if I move it like this..."

"Oh. Oh my. Well, this is not right, not right at all! Mother! Mother, are you there? I am in need of some assistance, post haste!"

"Thank you, once again, mother. I think I shall be able to get into it now. Back to work with you, pip pip!"

"Ah, there we go. Jolly good!"

Oh, You Know What Day It Is...

Oh yes, my friends. It's the FIRST OF OCTOBER!!!!! Which, if you know me well, means that it's PUMPKIN TIME!!!! (Not familiar with my addiction to pumpkins? Check this out. And this. Oh, and especially this.) (Don't judge...)

Since I'm not 'allowed' (a self-prescribed, Lance-policed rule) to buy any pumpkins until October, I was at Hobby Lobby by 9am today, deciding which lucky pumpkins would come home with me. Okay, I wasn't there that early specifically for the pumpkins; Cole needed a nap and sleeps really well in the car. But still, I was there. Here's what I picked up:


Cute, right? I've never bought a blue pumpkin before. I love them.

This afternoon I pulled out my entire collection. Behold:


*sigh* I'm so happy. I love them so much! Not only because I just love pumpkins, but because most of them are associated with happy memories of my mom and the friends who have given them to me. If they were gifts I write the name of the gifter and the year on the bottom; if I inherited them from my mom's collection I make a note of that. It's like a pumpkin time capsule.

Let the pumpkin festivities begin!