Addict

Hi.
My name is Jessica.
I am addicted to Chex Mix.
Wait.
Let me clarify.
I am addicted to Sweet 'n Salty Chex Mix.

It beckons me at breakfast.
It causes me to skip lunch.
It ruins my dinner.

I. Can't. Stop.

Why can't vegetables be so good?

Rewind

I was looking through some old pictures the other day.
That's what I like to do every now and then, so the memories stay fresh.
I also do it so that I can remember my kids during a time when it seemed like they didn't whine so much, or roll their eyes all the time, or disregard my instructions.

Okay, that was supposed to be honesty but somehow it seemed to turn into a failed parenting confession.

Moving right along....

This story I'm about to share is the exact reason I take so many pictures. I probably would have forgotten this little incident had I not caught it on camera.

Rewind back to August 2006 when my Zane looked a little something like this:


We had just moved into our new house in Indy not even 2 months prior. Life was still getting arranged and we were at the threshold of what would end up being an almost year long kitchen remodel. At this point all that was on our kitchen floor was plywood sub floor and carpet remnants. We had just removed a stack of drawers and replaced them with a dishwasher so there were no baseboards either.


On random occasions I would happen upon Zane munching a pretzel stick. At first I thought nothing of it, but as it kept happening I began to get a little suspicious.

Then one day I turned the corner into the kitchen and saw this:


Hey Buddy, what do you see under the dishwasher?


If he could have talked I'm sure he would have just said.
"Oh nothing. I'm just getting a snack," as he pulled out a pretzel stick.

Upon closer inspection, I soon discovered where he had been getting his occasional snack. Apparently he had been stashing his leftovers in case of delayed hunger.


He's a squirrely little guy.

He's Killing Me

I don't know what I'll do when this one grows up.



He slays me every day with these cheeks.



I know I better get myself under control before he's old enough to realize the power he has over me. But right now, as it stands, if he looks at me like this I'm a goner.


He gets away with way too much.
No one else gets to sit in the recliner and eat chips from the bag. (Well, no one else besides Daddy.)


And what other kid gets to lay on the table to color?


And with this look, who's going to make this kid eat all his dinner? Not me.


Most people say that the 3rd child has the least amount of photographs. I don't think that's going to be the case here. I can't keep my camera away from this face.

Bad Grades

I had a house full of little people today. One 4 year old, two 3 year olds, a 17 month old and an 8 month old. There were moments I questioned my sanity. But then I remembered that taking my 3 kids to Walmart by myself during naptime is one of the most insane ideas I've ever had and I felt much better about my afternoon.

A little coloring helped calm me as well. Does anyone else find coloring as soothing as I? I remember doing it a lot in college. And when Anna was little there was always a box of crayons on the table. Who would have thought a cylinder of colored wax could do so much. A big "Thank You" to Edwin Binney and C. Harold Smith, creators of the crayon. I find it slightly amusing that it wasn't either of those men that had the creativity to come up with a name for their invention. Leave it to Ed's wife who combined the french words for chalk (craie) and oily (oleaginous) to come up with "crayon." So thank you too, Alice.

Enough with the history lesson.

One of the little girls today has a heart for coloring. She was just the right height where she could rest her chin on the table top while creating her art. I decided that she looked so content it might be in my best interest to join her.

And then I had the flashback. This happens to me literally every single time I color. No joke. Every single time I color I remember the time I got a worksheet returned to me in Kindergarten and it had this on it:




And underneath that the teacher drew this:



Why the arrows? Let me just provide you with a little clarification.
It was a coloring worksheet. Yes, a coloring worksheet.
I remember it clearly. It was a picture of an owl.
I had made wonderful color choice, but apparently I had colored like this:


And I should have colored like this:



Do you see the difference? Yeah, I had a hard time seeing it too..... IN KINDERGARTEN!!! Being the ignorant 5 year old that I was, I had colored in too many directions. Crayon strokes are supposed to be made in the same direction throughout the entirety of the picture. I changed directions too many times resulting in a big, fat, red check minus.

As you can tell, I will never forget that paper. I have a hard time remembering my high school GPA or even the grade on my high school Calculus final exam (which I'm sure was far worse than a check minus). But I kid you not, every time I sit down with a crayon in hand I will forever be taunted by those nasty little red arrows.

So, here's to you Mrs. Hay. For tainting my coloring ability for the remainder of my life, I colored you this picture today. And I threw in a few directional changes just for kicks.

Pot Pie Night

Chicken pot pie is one of the favorite meals in our house. The kids love it, even though it has lots of veggies in it.

And I love that the kids love it, even though it has lots of veggies in it.

For some reason, a few pot pies ago, I decided to start cutting fun pictures into the pie instead of the typical lines. The kids think it’s fun and are always curious to see what I choose.

I’ve done flowers. I’ve done our initials. And once I even did a tractor. I’ll give you 2 guesses as to which child loved that one the most. And your 2nd guess doesn’t count. He was just a little upset that I forgot the steering wheel.

Did I mention yet that I love that my children love pot pie even though it has lots of veggies in it? I do.

We had chicken pot pie tonight. Guess what’s on my mind?

Math. We have a 2nd grader. It’s a touchy subject in our house. But this made her smile, and that made me smile.

1+4=5   and that’s the number of people in our house that enjoyed dinner tonight, even though it had lots of veggies in it.

Progress. With a capital P. Progress.

To preschool or not to preschool? It's a legitimate question many parents struggle with. Preschool is something that isn't right for some. And for others it's something that is an absolute necessity.

When it came to our firstborn, we struggled with the decision. Eventually, we opted to preschool. We had just moved and we thought it would be beneficial in helping her develop friendships. After all, making friends in a new town is tough even for adults. She already knew her letters and how to write them (upper and lower case). She knew her shapes and how to draw them. She knew how to color in the lines and how to cut and paste. Academically, she was ready for Kindergarten at 4. But she was also still attached to her mother's hip.
Actually, she still is.
I keep telling myself that one day she'll want to leave me and get married and I'll long for the school mornings where she clings to my leg, sobbing because she'll miss me so much.
I keep telling myself that.

And now we have this one.


There really wasn't much of a dilemma with this one. Can someone please point me in the direction of the nearest preschool?

Honestly, I love my boy. Really I do. He brings me much delight. But I have never once doubted that if there was a story to be written about kids who need preschool, he would be Exhibit #1.

And in all fairness, I did try to do some preschool with him at home. Remember those 4 months I was a homeschooling mom? I tried to work with him, too. But if you mentioned the word "learn" or if he even got a whiff of the possibility that an activity had anything to do with learning, he was absolutely-with-out-a-doubt Done. With a capital D. Done. And then he would loudly proclaim "I don't want to learn!!!"

We did manage to learn colors. John Deere is green. Case is red. New Holland is blue. Cat machines are yellow. That didn't leave me much to work with.
Recognizing capital letters? Yes.
Ability to read "John Deere?" Yes.
Lower case letters? Nope.
Shapes? Tires are circles. Semi trailers are rectangles.
Coloring in the lines? Not interested.


What I needed was a Montessori style of school that taught using only farm and construction equipment and terminology. Why do they not have FFA for 4 year olds?

I finally had to settle for a normal preschool. He started a few weeks ago and Loves it. With a capital L. Loves. He doesn't mind learning with someone else. Imagine that. And the best part? He didn't cling to my leg and cry when I dropped him off. He went right into his class without batting an eye and barely said goodbye.

So last week his teacher shared with me that they were having a little trouble with getting him to write his name correctly. Uh oh. I flashed back to the time when he was adamant that his name did not start with the letter Z. It wasn't pretty then. I was hoping things had improved.

Thankfully, this issue was different. The teacher explained to me that the problem is, he likes to write his name in all capital letters. I didn't really see the problem, considering that just a few months ago he didn't want to write his name at all. They should be thankful, right?

Miss Cindy explained that they are working with him to use lowercase letters instead. She said that she told him each student is allowed only one capital letter in their name. Then she told me he paused for a moment, looked at her thoughtfully and declared,

"Okay. I want it to be the E."

Smart kid. Those lowercase e's are pretty tricky.
That's my boy. zanE. With a capital E. zanE.

My My My! Look how far we've come.

My family spent Labor Day at my in-laws home with a whole group of Mt. Dew drinking, farm talking extended family. It was a nice relaxing day but I'm convinced that someone slipped My Baby some of that sweet nectar (Mt. Dew) because the boy was awake for 11 hours straight. My Baby, who can't go 3 hours without a nap, was awake for 11 hours. My best guess is Uncle Dennis, but that is neither here nor there. Anyway....I digress.

At one point I had ventured down in the basement to check out the new flooring. Then my mother-in-law's bookshelf caught my eye. Why? Because I, who currently have 4 books in progress, felt it necessary to add a few more to the list. A few rows down and my eyes stumbled upon a set of encyclopediaish children's books called "The Bookshelf for Boys and Girls." They were old and looked vintagy. And that does not mean that I am referring to my mother-in-law as old and vintagy. Just to be clear.

I decided to select a few to take home. I thought it might be fun to read through some of them with Anna. She's always good for a history lesson or two. I carefully made my selection and ended up with these.


The one on the left is Volume 9 "Great Events and Famous People" and on the right you'll see Volume 5 "Things to Make and Do." I don't know about you, but I find the cover art work delightful. Really, I do.

And then what to my wandering eyes did appear, but this!


It's the Parent's Guide! Could it be that all the answers to parenting that I've been looking for for years have been sitting on a shelf in my in-law's basement? Is this the instruction manual I've been desiring for the past 7.5 years? Probably not. But I figured with a copyright of 1970 it was bound to provide me with some interesting and amusing bits of information. The book did not let me down.

A few things were not really surprising. Those of us born in the 70's know that carseats were virtually non-existant. Except for maybe a "booster" that's sole purpose was to help you see out the window. My brother and I rarely used the seat in my parent's Oldsmobile Delta 88. We preferred to ride while laying in the back window. And my mom, well, she used to stop the car real fast to see if she could get us to roll out. It was fun. She would be arrested now. Anyway, about those carseats..... I wasn't surprised to see this picture.

And I love the caption. "This child is well-protected." Something tells me that General Motors wouldn't stand to have their name next to a picture like this today.

And this one was funny, but not too surprising. We all know potty training tools have made great strides.

But the kid can't be any older than 12 months? How early did they start back then anyway? And the built in foot rest...ingenious!

But then I started coming across some things that caused me to laugh out loud. Most came from the pregnancy and newborn section. Take a trip back in time with me circa 1970. And while we're there, help me determine what is real and what is merely staged for the sake of pleasant reading.

Exhibit #1
" It helps when father-to-be shares the household tasks."

Agreed. But how many fathers-to-be actually wore an apron? My dad was a 70's dad and I just don't see it happening. Sorry.

Exhibit #2
"Doctor helps new baby to take first breath."


Scary. No further comment

Exhibit #3
"First time parents get valuable experience in caring for their newborn."

The father here could easily pass for the older brother. And what dad wears a tie to the hospital while his wife is in labor? And why does dad have his back to the mom?

Exhibit #4
"Coming home with the new baby."

Looks to me like they're leaving the bank? Forget the panty hose and heels. Every time I left the hospital I was wearing sweats and sneakers. And she has quite the pep in her step for just giving birth. I was thankful they wouldn't let me walk and made me ride in a wheelchair.

Exhibit #5
"Feeding the baby is a happy family affair."


Riiiiiight. So tell me, what year was it that the older siblings stopped sitting so nicely watching the baby and decided feeding time was the perfect time to need help getting a snack and drink of their own?

Exhibit #6
"This father is telling his boy the facts of life."


Kind of ironic that dad chooses to have "the talk" while building a model rocket. No further comment required here.


But the humor didn't stop with the pictures. I looked a little deeper into the text and found equally amusing "information."

#1
Pregnancy

No matter how "great" a woman feels during pregnancy, no one likes to be referred to as "blimp-like."


#2
Pregnancy


If you're going to look like a blimp, you might as well get a hair cut to go along with your fuller face. Now is not the time for long hair, ladies.

#3
The Toddler Years

Did toddlers in the 70's really only need a few square feet of play space and they and their toys never wandered out? My kids can't even keep their toys in the toy room.

#4
The Toddler Years

Maybe this is one thing that hasn't changed, but I've never actually heard it worded this way.


In conclusion, I've decided that this is one of those books that was written in a way to cause people to choose to continue to procreate. Because honestly, if they told it like it really is people just might choose not to become parents.
Okay, maybe that's not true. But I refuse to believe this is how things were in the 70's. Because if that's true then that means my parenting skills in the 2000's leave a lot to be desired.

My husband doesn't wear an apron.
I wasn't skipping out of the hospital.
And I can't keep my 16 month old and his toys confined to a few square feet without the assistance of walls and duct tape.
Am I the only one?