Do you know what I like?
I like combs.
Combs do what you expect they'll do; no surprises. When you want one it's always there waiting for you. When you're done, you put it back.
They're neat and streamlined. Obedient and orderly.
Most of all, combs are quiet. That's probably their best quality. A comb will never talk back, scream and throw itself on the ground, or just generally wish you could tear your ears off and not have to put 'mop up blood and ears off floor' on your already impossibly long to-do list.
... Have I mentioned it's March Break in the Maven household? Did I even have to?
It's not going too badly right now. I say this half an hour before bedtime, mind you, when frankly I would just as soon throw a parade to honour the event than use these precious few minutes to post a blog entry. One is celebration, the other venting. Both serve their purpose and this is far more cost-effective.
We're on day four of ten, meaning that it won't be long before I'm sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth and singing the score from Wizard of Oz. But so far it's not that bad. This, like any dysfunctional relationship, goes in cycles. At the moment we're in the honeymoon phase, where I'm planning fun activities with the gremlins, taking them to museums (being a good stay-at-home-mom, I have a wallet full of family memberships to all the big, local museums), watching movies, going for walks... This is that wonderful I-love-you-so-much-and-that-will-never-change stage. Love that part. By this afternoon we were showing signs of impending doom already and I'm guessing will make the full-blown switch to I-know-you-just-messed-up-but-it's-only-one-time-so-it's-ok stage. Just one time. Things will get better again, I promise, baby. Here are some flowers and a gift certificate to K-Mart to buy yourself something pretty.
Deterioration will happen as it happens with every lengthly holiday. I used to brag that my children never fought because they had a six year age gap between them. That all went out the window when Gutsy turned two. He began to walk up behind Intrepid and hit him with things. Random things. Rescue Heroes, trucks, PS2 controllers, mugs... Pretty much anything that would be sure to get the big guy's attention. Yet Intrepid maintained his cool for months as we worked on the problem.
And yet, this evening Gutsy bit Intrepid (he's never been a biter. I suppose he was trying a new torture method) and Intrepid, shocked and in pain, kicked Gutsy in the face. Not hard, but enough that it hurt and got him to stop biting.
Hmm. Yes. I know. Sounds violent, doesn't it? Normally it isn't, but four days together lead them to that impressive display of brotherly love. At that point I would normally go into the playroom, find out what happened, talk to them about it and have them apologize (which they would fight me on because they'd be so angry with each other). Instead, I tried something new: "I want you two to go into your room. You on your bed, you on yours. Nobody comes out until you've apologized to each other."
It took about 15 minutes, but by dinner time they were ready to say sorry (and Gutsy instigated it - instigated a positive action! - wonder of wonders) and come eat some grub. This left me feeling damn impressed with my mad parenting skillz. That feeling couldn't have come at a better time, as I'm usually fretting over how sucktastic I am at raising children these days. My current motto is: Consistency? Only sometimes.
Big red flag, baby. Big, bright, glowing, red flag.
I'll get back into my groove thing at some point. I just highly doubt it'll be during March break, that's all.
Gutsy has apparently had enough of his bigger brother, so he's created his own friend. Tonight he introduced me to Eggness, his new imaginary pal. Eggness has two superpowers:
1. He's invisible
2. He shoots eggs out of his arms
I can completely understand how Gutsy would want to hang around with him over Intrepid. Eggness has the cool factor in the form of invisible egg shooters for arms.
I didn't ask how old Eggness is. However, I do know that he sleeps in Gutsy's bed. If I find out that he's anything over 12 years old I'm having some serious words with him. He might fire off poultry products, but the sleepovers will have to stop. This isn't the Neverland Ranch.
This post took me four hours to make. Now I must get crackin' and head off to bed before my brains are even more scrambled and my body more fried.
I like combs.
Combs do what you expect they'll do; no surprises. When you want one it's always there waiting for you. When you're done, you put it back.
They're neat and streamlined. Obedient and orderly.
Most of all, combs are quiet. That's probably their best quality. A comb will never talk back, scream and throw itself on the ground, or just generally wish you could tear your ears off and not have to put 'mop up blood and ears off floor' on your already impossibly long to-do list.
... Have I mentioned it's March Break in the Maven household? Did I even have to?
It's not going too badly right now. I say this half an hour before bedtime, mind you, when frankly I would just as soon throw a parade to honour the event than use these precious few minutes to post a blog entry. One is celebration, the other venting. Both serve their purpose and this is far more cost-effective.
We're on day four of ten, meaning that it won't be long before I'm sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth and singing the score from Wizard of Oz. But so far it's not that bad. This, like any dysfunctional relationship, goes in cycles. At the moment we're in the honeymoon phase, where I'm planning fun activities with the gremlins, taking them to museums (being a good stay-at-home-mom, I have a wallet full of family memberships to all the big, local museums), watching movies, going for walks... This is that wonderful I-love-you-so-much-and-that-will-never-change stage. Love that part. By this afternoon we were showing signs of impending doom already and I'm guessing will make the full-blown switch to I-know-you-just-messed-up-but-it's-only-one-time-so-it's-ok stage. Just one time. Things will get better again, I promise, baby. Here are some flowers and a gift certificate to K-Mart to buy yourself something pretty.
Deterioration will happen as it happens with every lengthly holiday. I used to brag that my children never fought because they had a six year age gap between them. That all went out the window when Gutsy turned two. He began to walk up behind Intrepid and hit him with things. Random things. Rescue Heroes, trucks, PS2 controllers, mugs... Pretty much anything that would be sure to get the big guy's attention. Yet Intrepid maintained his cool for months as we worked on the problem.
And yet, this evening Gutsy bit Intrepid (he's never been a biter. I suppose he was trying a new torture method) and Intrepid, shocked and in pain, kicked Gutsy in the face. Not hard, but enough that it hurt and got him to stop biting.
Hmm. Yes. I know. Sounds violent, doesn't it? Normally it isn't, but four days together lead them to that impressive display of brotherly love. At that point I would normally go into the playroom, find out what happened, talk to them about it and have them apologize (which they would fight me on because they'd be so angry with each other). Instead, I tried something new: "I want you two to go into your room. You on your bed, you on yours. Nobody comes out until you've apologized to each other."
It took about 15 minutes, but by dinner time they were ready to say sorry (and Gutsy instigated it - instigated a positive action! - wonder of wonders) and come eat some grub. This left me feeling damn impressed with my mad parenting skillz. That feeling couldn't have come at a better time, as I'm usually fretting over how sucktastic I am at raising children these days. My current motto is: Consistency? Only sometimes.
Big red flag, baby. Big, bright, glowing, red flag.
I'll get back into my groove thing at some point. I just highly doubt it'll be during March break, that's all.
Gutsy has apparently had enough of his bigger brother, so he's created his own friend. Tonight he introduced me to Eggness, his new imaginary pal. Eggness has two superpowers:
1. He's invisible
2. He shoots eggs out of his arms
I can completely understand how Gutsy would want to hang around with him over Intrepid. Eggness has the cool factor in the form of invisible egg shooters for arms.
I didn't ask how old Eggness is. However, I do know that he sleeps in Gutsy's bed. If I find out that he's anything over 12 years old I'm having some serious words with him. He might fire off poultry products, but the sleepovers will have to stop. This isn't the Neverland Ranch.
This post took me four hours to make. Now I must get crackin' and head off to bed before my brains are even more scrambled and my body more fried.