It's very hard to properly discipline your kids when you're trying your damnedest not to laugh out loud at their antics. Ashe is hitting the age where his vocabulary is just exploding, he is putting proper sentences together, and mimicking anything he hears...along with making up his own twists here and there. A lot of them are just flat out hysterical. But most are flat out hysterical and things he really shouldn't get away with saying. J and I are finding it harder and harder each day to keep our wits together long enough to let him know that somethings are not ok to say while contorting our lips into frowns when all we want to do is bust out laughing.
For instance, while Ashe won't call J Babes anymore on his own, he has begun to "echo" me anytime I call up to J. So if I call upstairs to get J's attention, and Ashe is nearby it sounds like this:
"Hey Babes?"
"HEY BABES!?!"
"Honey don't call Daddy Babes. That's Mommy's name for him. You call him Daddy."
"OK."
"Thanks.... Hey Babes?"
"HEY BABES!!! MOMMY'S CALLING YOU!!!"
I mean seriously, how can you keep a straight face to that?
His latest phrase is "MOMMY I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU!". It's so hard to discipline a toddler when you add in the sound of this tiny pipsqueak voice trying to sound gruff. He said this to me today and of course while trying not to laugh I told him he can't say that to Mommy. Then J pipes up in the background "But you say it to him." I went to counter that I did not but realized, I did. Usually I say it to Xavier, who believes every word out of someones mouth is directed solely to him and he'll continually interrupt a conversation with "What? What? What did you say? I missed that can you repeat it?" to which I turn around and say "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to (insert name of person here)." With Ashe echoing Xavier, he's been doing the same thing to me. And thus I found out where he gets it from.
Tonights escapade sent J and I over the edge. I took the turn to put the older boys to bed tonight. Of course they decided to act like they had caffeine instead of blood in their tiny little bodies and were just all over the place. It actually got to the point where I went beyond threatening to shut their bedroom door (they loathe that) to actually doing it. Ashe kept popping out of bed and opening it, then running back to bed. Maybe I'm a bad mom but after this went on about 4 times I waited right outside the door and when he opened it again I yelled "GET IN BED!" His little body jumped 3 feet in the air and he ran back into bed.... laughing his butt off. 'Great', I thought, 'he thinks it's a game.'
I went back to the office and shut our door so I could pretend to be ignorant of their antics. Sometimes you have to just admit defeat and hope they pass out soon without destroying their bedroom. As I'm putting on my headphones and turn to my computer, the office door opens and there is Ashe with a HUGE grin on his face and he yells "SURPRISE MOMMY. I OUT OF BED!"
I cant begin to describe the heroic strength it took for me not to laugh right then and there. Just the mental image of his cherubic little face with a devilish grin as he said that makes me giggle. But I had to be the mean Mommy. If I laughed he would think it's ok to do this forever and he would try. Oh yes, my darling boy would try every night thereafter if I showed any hint of amusement. So I reigned in my laughter, fixed a frown on my face and growled "Get. In. Bed. Now."
His poor little face crumpled, the eyes glistened, as he sees the outward appearance of me not getting his joke. I want to jump up and tell him Yes dammit that was really funny!!!!! but I can't. I have to be Mom. He starts to cry and hobbles back to bed, and sobs himself to sleep. And a little part of me dies inside, because dude, that was a riot, and yet I cant tell him. Not for another 16 years at least. And until then he's going to think I was mad. And that sucks.
After he went back to bed I closed the door and J and I quietly stuffing our faces into our shirts and just laughing until we gasped for breath. Even eye contact with each other would set us off again. I hope that when Ashe is old enough I can share this blog so he knows Mommy wasn't mad, but I had a job to do and sometimes my job as Mom has to come before my sense of humor as myself. And I really hope I didn't just give him a memory to dissect with his therapist in 20 years. I think I'll make sure to print this blog out and save it in a fireproof safe for proof I'm not as evil as he may think I am.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Family Games
We are a family of gamers. J and I started the trend over 9 years ago, and over time, others were sucked in, including my mom and her husband (although thank god they don't play with us... and if you're reading this mom, nothing personal! I love you!!!) as well as our sons.
It's not uncommon in our household to find all computers being used by every person in the family at once, including Soren. Many a times I've gone down to get a fresh cup of coffee, only to find my desktop commandeered by Ashe or Xavier, who have taken over my MMO character and run her around like a chicken with it's head cut off. It's actually a reason why I wont do PUGs (Pick up groups with random unknown people in the game) on the off chance they ever saw my character being repeatedly murdered by a gleesome 2 year old as he runs her off cliffs. If anyone saw this happening, and I'm sure people have, they may wonder about my intelligence. Unfortunately while true, it's too easy to blame it on my offspring. I'm sure that's a common excuse for gaming idiocy.
Xavier is finally old enough to not only understand how to maneuver a character around the gaming world, but he knows how to actually play in a limited sense. I'm not yet ready to power level him to max level and have him join our raiding guild (besides we raid past his bedtime) but he is able to tag along with J and I once in awhile to complete quests and instances. He will be one of the few teenagers who can say he's been gaming since he was 3. Sometimes I wonder if that's really cool, or really sad?
He really gets into the game around Halloween, as there are a lot of extra fun and silly things to do and acquire, including nifty illusions to turn yourself into a skeleton or scarecrow. I stock up on these during this time of year so that I can mail them to him in game throughout the year for giggles. Since it is now that time, his interest n gaming has increased and he keeps stealing my computer when I'm busy with the other 2 kids and hopping on a new character he created.
His new character is named Blackshadower, a necromancer. One day last week, he bemoaned the fact that he didn't have a mount to ride like everyone else. Because his character was on my account and I had access to a mount per character J was able to get him a free one, a monstrous bear you can ride around. This please Xavier for awhile and he happily ran around, mauling poor innocent deer and shooting down fairies (and orcs and other things he was actually supposed to kill.) But then he decided his bear was not fast enough and wanted a horse. Horses in the game cost money. A lot of money, especially since he wanted one that rode really really really fast. He asked J to lend him in game money and J said nope, you don't play often enough for me to give you money yet. Show me you can play for awhile and I might. In the meantime, you can quest to get your own money for a horse. Apparently, Xavier didn't like that answer. We shouldn't be surprised because he never likes that answer even in real life terms despite the fact he now get a a $7 weekly allowance if he does all his chores.
So the other night after this conversation, and the kids were all abed, J and I popped on our game. A few minutes later J starts giggling and motions for me to come and look at his screen. He had noticed mail was sent to his character in game and opened it and this is what it was:
I especially love the fact only the last line is capitalized, showing he understood what he was writing and used capital letters to get his vehemence through.
J and I spent a long time chuckling and wondering if it was some keen joke of Zavis. We didn't want to be upset at him if it was, but if it wasn't we were going to need to have a little talk.
The following day J asked Zavi if it was a joke and it was not. Zavi said he was really sorry and he didn't mean to yell at J. I guess the two of them made amends and Zavi now really understands no pony is in his future unless he gets it himself. I guess I should be thankful he's asking for a virtual one and not a real live pony. It could be worse.
I now begin to worry about Ashe in the future with gaming, seeing as how he really has a grasp on the mechanics of the game at a much earlier age than Zavi did. At 2 he can do everything BUT quest. I look forward to seeing what kind of spam mails J and I will get in our virtual world from him in the coming years. Maybe he'll be demanding a dragon by then!
It's not uncommon in our household to find all computers being used by every person in the family at once, including Soren. Many a times I've gone down to get a fresh cup of coffee, only to find my desktop commandeered by Ashe or Xavier, who have taken over my MMO character and run her around like a chicken with it's head cut off. It's actually a reason why I wont do PUGs (Pick up groups with random unknown people in the game) on the off chance they ever saw my character being repeatedly murdered by a gleesome 2 year old as he runs her off cliffs. If anyone saw this happening, and I'm sure people have, they may wonder about my intelligence. Unfortunately while true, it's too easy to blame it on my offspring. I'm sure that's a common excuse for gaming idiocy.
Xavier is finally old enough to not only understand how to maneuver a character around the gaming world, but he knows how to actually play in a limited sense. I'm not yet ready to power level him to max level and have him join our raiding guild (besides we raid past his bedtime) but he is able to tag along with J and I once in awhile to complete quests and instances. He will be one of the few teenagers who can say he's been gaming since he was 3. Sometimes I wonder if that's really cool, or really sad?
He really gets into the game around Halloween, as there are a lot of extra fun and silly things to do and acquire, including nifty illusions to turn yourself into a skeleton or scarecrow. I stock up on these during this time of year so that I can mail them to him in game throughout the year for giggles. Since it is now that time, his interest n gaming has increased and he keeps stealing my computer when I'm busy with the other 2 kids and hopping on a new character he created.
His new character is named Blackshadower, a necromancer. One day last week, he bemoaned the fact that he didn't have a mount to ride like everyone else. Because his character was on my account and I had access to a mount per character J was able to get him a free one, a monstrous bear you can ride around. This please Xavier for awhile and he happily ran around, mauling poor innocent deer and shooting down fairies (and orcs and other things he was actually supposed to kill.) But then he decided his bear was not fast enough and wanted a horse. Horses in the game cost money. A lot of money, especially since he wanted one that rode really really really fast. He asked J to lend him in game money and J said nope, you don't play often enough for me to give you money yet. Show me you can play for awhile and I might. In the meantime, you can quest to get your own money for a horse. Apparently, Xavier didn't like that answer. We shouldn't be surprised because he never likes that answer even in real life terms despite the fact he now get a a $7 weekly allowance if he does all his chores.
So the other night after this conversation, and the kids were all abed, J and I popped on our game. A few minutes later J starts giggling and motions for me to come and look at his screen. He had noticed mail was sent to his character in game and opened it and this is what it was:
I especially love the fact only the last line is capitalized, showing he understood what he was writing and used capital letters to get his vehemence through.J and I spent a long time chuckling and wondering if it was some keen joke of Zavis. We didn't want to be upset at him if it was, but if it wasn't we were going to need to have a little talk.
The following day J asked Zavi if it was a joke and it was not. Zavi said he was really sorry and he didn't mean to yell at J. I guess the two of them made amends and Zavi now really understands no pony is in his future unless he gets it himself. I guess I should be thankful he's asking for a virtual one and not a real live pony. It could be worse.
I now begin to worry about Ashe in the future with gaming, seeing as how he really has a grasp on the mechanics of the game at a much earlier age than Zavi did. At 2 he can do everything BUT quest. I look forward to seeing what kind of spam mails J and I will get in our virtual world from him in the coming years. Maybe he'll be demanding a dragon by then!
Monday, October 19, 2009
Screwdriver Chicken
I hate cooking. I really really hate it. I'm not good at it, I hate the mess it makes, I hate cleaning up after. I was never taught how to cook by my mom as most daughters are. My mom didn't know how to cook either and our meals growing up consisted mainly of either McDonalds Drive thru, way overcooked steak that could break your teeth, and once in awhile a decent meatloaf. About the only thing I can make is an amazing turkey. I don't know why but no matter how I cook it, my turkeys always come out perfect (knock on wood). I do like making turkeys. But thats about it!
I often wonder that if I had been taught how to cook I may actually have grown to enjoy it. I often fantasize that one day I'm going to have an amazing kitchen with double ovens, a huge pantry, hanging black iron skillets, and a spice shelf that puts Fresh Markets to shame (yes, I stand by the Fresh Market Spice shelf and drool although I have no idea why). And once I have my amazing kitchen I'm going automatically know how to, and love to cook fantastic gourmet meals that are both delicious and nutritious for my wonderful family. I need to get my kitchen first though to see if this fantasy actually pans true. And maybe J will get a big pay raise too so I can buy decent meat and fresh crisp vegetables for every meals. My fantasies also include me going out every day to pick only the freshest cuts of meats and bread, with locally farm grown veggies picked off the stem that day. This is how I know it's pure fantasy folks. Where the hell would I even find time to go food shopping on a daily basis?!?
Most evenings I start cooking dinner around 4:30-5pm. While I hate cooking it's my job during the weekdays, and trying to wrangle the stove that makes the smoke detector go off if I even contemplate boiling water and 3 kids who are getting tired, irritable and clingy, I go for efficiency when I choose dinner meals. My favorite lately has been semi premade meals from the Macaroni Grill with Chicken. Think Hamburger Helper but without the taste of cardboard and actually really good. We learned quickly that canned chicken breast works really well with it. I can generally whip up a decent meal with it in 15 minutes, plus be able to help Zavi with his homework, jiggle Soren on my hip and dance around with Ashe, keeping all three kids if not entertained, at least busy and quiet.
So tonight I decided we were going to have Macaroni Grills Creamy Chicken and Basil. I heated up the water and started cooking the noodles, and began melting butter for the chicken. I pulled out a can of canned chicken and placed Soren in his exersaucer so that I could saute the chicken without worrying about him getting scorched. I picked up our hand held manual can opener and started to open the can. I began to vaguely remember J mentioning that our can opener seemed to be busted the other day as I stood there, hand cranking the opener over and over and nothing was happening. We didn't have any extras or alternatives and I began to realize I may be in a spot of trouble here, dinner wise.
For a few minutes I tried in vain to get the damn thing to work. I opened it up, checked the insides (looked fine but what the heck do I know?) tried putting it back on tighter... to no avail. In a fit of desperation as I glanced at the now boiling pasta I decided to try something hardcore. I ran to the laundry room, half jumping over Ashe in the hallway who was trying to dive bomb and grab my legs to bring me down to his level, and yanked open the laundry room door searching for my tool box. Digging through it I pulled out a hammer and a screwdriver and raced back to the kitchen. By now Soren was whimpering to be picked up, Zavi was yelling questions about homework from the dining room across the hall and Ashe chased after me and pinioned my legs together wrapping his entire body on my shins and singing loudly. Already I could feel a head ache forming.
I grabbed the can of chicken, placed it in the center of the counter, put the screw driver on top and started hammering the top until the screwdriver broke through the metal surface. With a pop I had success. But then I looked down and realized, after noting how small the hole I had just made in the can was, how long this was going to take. Nevertheless I was insistent on at least giving it a good try. Smelling the melting butter in the awaiting frying pan, I took a deep breath and continued hammering away at the can.
After about 5 minutes and only 3 inches of the can opened I tried another tactic. I took the hammer and tried prying the can open enough to get the chicken out. no luck. So I tried a wine bottle opener. Nope. In a fit of desperation I grabbed a kitchen knife and tried sawing through the can top in the hopes that it would be faster. Fail. By now Soren is beyond pissed off and letting it be known, Ashe is trying to placate him by poking his chubby sticky (why are toddler hands always sticky no matter how many times you wash them?) fingers into Sorens jowls and Zavi is yelling at me that the butter is burning. And I'm ready to just scream. But I cant because if I do I'll scare the kids which will set off a domino reaction of wails and screams.
Instead of screaming I throw down my implements of canned chicken torture and just give up. I run up to J and bluster that we need a new damned can opener tomorrow morning, and run back downstairs to figure something out.We're not having Macaroni Grill tonight folks. I slam open my kitchen cabinets in a desperate search for something to go with the noodles and come up with spaghetti sauce. I hate spaghetti and sauce but at this point anything will do. I drain the now overcooked noodles, toss in some sauce (careful not to put too much in or J makes faces) and butter up some bread. I slap everything together and dole out portions, yelling at Zavi to clean off the table and Ashe would you go tell Daddy dinners ready?
In the end everyone but Ashe ate the spaghetti with no complaints. Zavi even asked for seconds, and I doled half my meal onto his empty plate. I plan on going out tomorrow and purchasing a new can opener. One that's electric. And sits on the counter. None of this manual crap we've used for years. And I'm contemplating making myself a real screwdriver once the kids are asleep. You know, the one with orange juice and vodka.
I often wonder that if I had been taught how to cook I may actually have grown to enjoy it. I often fantasize that one day I'm going to have an amazing kitchen with double ovens, a huge pantry, hanging black iron skillets, and a spice shelf that puts Fresh Markets to shame (yes, I stand by the Fresh Market Spice shelf and drool although I have no idea why). And once I have my amazing kitchen I'm going automatically know how to, and love to cook fantastic gourmet meals that are both delicious and nutritious for my wonderful family. I need to get my kitchen first though to see if this fantasy actually pans true. And maybe J will get a big pay raise too so I can buy decent meat and fresh crisp vegetables for every meals. My fantasies also include me going out every day to pick only the freshest cuts of meats and bread, with locally farm grown veggies picked off the stem that day. This is how I know it's pure fantasy folks. Where the hell would I even find time to go food shopping on a daily basis?!?
Most evenings I start cooking dinner around 4:30-5pm. While I hate cooking it's my job during the weekdays, and trying to wrangle the stove that makes the smoke detector go off if I even contemplate boiling water and 3 kids who are getting tired, irritable and clingy, I go for efficiency when I choose dinner meals. My favorite lately has been semi premade meals from the Macaroni Grill with Chicken. Think Hamburger Helper but without the taste of cardboard and actually really good. We learned quickly that canned chicken breast works really well with it. I can generally whip up a decent meal with it in 15 minutes, plus be able to help Zavi with his homework, jiggle Soren on my hip and dance around with Ashe, keeping all three kids if not entertained, at least busy and quiet.
So tonight I decided we were going to have Macaroni Grills Creamy Chicken and Basil. I heated up the water and started cooking the noodles, and began melting butter for the chicken. I pulled out a can of canned chicken and placed Soren in his exersaucer so that I could saute the chicken without worrying about him getting scorched. I picked up our hand held manual can opener and started to open the can. I began to vaguely remember J mentioning that our can opener seemed to be busted the other day as I stood there, hand cranking the opener over and over and nothing was happening. We didn't have any extras or alternatives and I began to realize I may be in a spot of trouble here, dinner wise.
For a few minutes I tried in vain to get the damn thing to work. I opened it up, checked the insides (looked fine but what the heck do I know?) tried putting it back on tighter... to no avail. In a fit of desperation as I glanced at the now boiling pasta I decided to try something hardcore. I ran to the laundry room, half jumping over Ashe in the hallway who was trying to dive bomb and grab my legs to bring me down to his level, and yanked open the laundry room door searching for my tool box. Digging through it I pulled out a hammer and a screwdriver and raced back to the kitchen. By now Soren was whimpering to be picked up, Zavi was yelling questions about homework from the dining room across the hall and Ashe chased after me and pinioned my legs together wrapping his entire body on my shins and singing loudly. Already I could feel a head ache forming.
I grabbed the can of chicken, placed it in the center of the counter, put the screw driver on top and started hammering the top until the screwdriver broke through the metal surface. With a pop I had success. But then I looked down and realized, after noting how small the hole I had just made in the can was, how long this was going to take. Nevertheless I was insistent on at least giving it a good try. Smelling the melting butter in the awaiting frying pan, I took a deep breath and continued hammering away at the can.
After about 5 minutes and only 3 inches of the can opened I tried another tactic. I took the hammer and tried prying the can open enough to get the chicken out. no luck. So I tried a wine bottle opener. Nope. In a fit of desperation I grabbed a kitchen knife and tried sawing through the can top in the hopes that it would be faster. Fail. By now Soren is beyond pissed off and letting it be known, Ashe is trying to placate him by poking his chubby sticky (why are toddler hands always sticky no matter how many times you wash them?) fingers into Sorens jowls and Zavi is yelling at me that the butter is burning. And I'm ready to just scream. But I cant because if I do I'll scare the kids which will set off a domino reaction of wails and screams.
Instead of screaming I throw down my implements of canned chicken torture and just give up. I run up to J and bluster that we need a new damned can opener tomorrow morning, and run back downstairs to figure something out.We're not having Macaroni Grill tonight folks. I slam open my kitchen cabinets in a desperate search for something to go with the noodles and come up with spaghetti sauce. I hate spaghetti and sauce but at this point anything will do. I drain the now overcooked noodles, toss in some sauce (careful not to put too much in or J makes faces) and butter up some bread. I slap everything together and dole out portions, yelling at Zavi to clean off the table and Ashe would you go tell Daddy dinners ready?
In the end everyone but Ashe ate the spaghetti with no complaints. Zavi even asked for seconds, and I doled half my meal onto his empty plate. I plan on going out tomorrow and purchasing a new can opener. One that's electric. And sits on the counter. None of this manual crap we've used for years. And I'm contemplating making myself a real screwdriver once the kids are asleep. You know, the one with orange juice and vodka.
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