Thanksgiving Tears and Torches

I stood at the counter and wiped a few stray tears from my cheeks as Yoan entered the kitchen to put a dish away. He looked at me gravely for a moment.  "Mom, have you been crying?"

"Yes. Yes I have."

"Oh. " Yoan shrugged and continued with his chore.

"Are you going to ask me why I'm crying?"

Yoan's eyes flew to my face briefly then back to the floor. He shrugged as only an eight year old can. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." With near tactical evasion skills, he tried to slink his way out of the kitchen.

"No. Really. Ask me why I was crying. "

" Um....... Why were you crying? "

I held out a bag of freshly chopped onions. He knew his job. Obligingly, he came forward and sniffed." Agh! " As if a skunk had sprayed him in face, he reeled away clutching his nose and whimpering.

This Thanksgiving has not been for the faint of heart disease. Inspiration struck David a few weeks ago and we pulled together a full six course meal including baked cheeses,  butternut soup, 3 kinds of bread, 4 different pies, Mac n cheese and the necessary food coma to follow. We even had a great looking recipe for smoked turkey.

Thanksgiving eve. The turkey has brined for a full 12 hours and is now in the grill being smoked. Scents of pie and smoke mingle in the kitchen. I'm doing up the last of the evening's dishes when David pops in and says, "You need to see this". I don't know about other husbands, but those words coming from my husband are never good. The last time he said that to me, I stepped out of my van to find that a certain little imp had packed our gas tank opening with tiny sticks and then replaced the cap. And it was labor day. And my car was dangerously close to the "you're about to have to push me home" stage.

I took a breath and followed David outside to find my grill spouting flames. Not just smoke. Serious flames. My carefully prepared turkey was a Thanksgiving torch. Crisp black skin on the outside gave way to chilly rawness on the inside. No good. We weighed our options and headed for Walmart  at ten-thirty on the night before Thanksgiving.  We scrounged the nearly empty chicken aisle and came up with enough chicken breasts for the adults. And chicken nuggets for the kids.  When I broke the sad news to the kids this morning that the turkey had been cremated and they'd have to eat nuggets, they did a happy jig. "I love chicken nuggets!" Tony announced. Ah, well. Not a complete fail then.

Through the stench of onions and charred turkey, we actually had a great Thanksgiving. Family gathered and ate themselves sick. We're visiting and enjoying each others company. We've laughed and reminisced.  I hope my other friends out there get to do the same! Happy Thanksgiving to you all as well!

When the well runs dry

I put an apron on this morning in the vain hope that I might make it through the day in one outfit. Yoan looked at my outfit dubiously this morning. "You look like a cooker in that. But you still look like a mom!" So, while hoping for something akin to Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart, I pulled off a solid Ma Kettle. That's OK. Our breakfast table looked a lot more like Ma's anyway.

We've been in our new home three weeks already! Time shoots past like an angry bird game on steroids. I had another post about the diverse joys of moving but it wasn't fit for public display. I shall fast forward to more present issues instead. Most specifically our most recent poop story. Since everyone loves those so much. Last Friday, we ran out of water. Yep. Two weeks into life in paradise and the well runs dry. But maybe I should set up the scene first......

The three Littles were sleeping soundly, so I left Danae in charge and went to pick up boys from school. Since it was Friday, I had plans to pick up my friend Cortney and her kids for a pizza making party. We got home 5 minutes later than usual to find all three littld hoodlums up and running around the front yard while Danae talked to the therapist who'd arrived early.

"I don't know where my Mom is. She's been gone a long time "

I picked my heart up out of my lap and swallowed it back down before getting out and trying to explain to the therapist that this is not a normal occurrence. Necessary conversations with Danae were had. I flustered my way into the kitchen to finish preparations.  I turned on the faucet to work on dishes. After a spit and sputter, it settled down to a steady drip. My previously swallowed heart sunk to the bottom of my belly and began to flop nervously. No good. We were out of water. It took another day to get it back.

Do you know what happens to ten kids when they discover you have no water? Yep. They immediately develop raging thirst and detox style colon cleanses. We went through 2 flats of water and it took me the better part of the next week to get the house to stop smelling like Nicaragua. Those of you who've been there know what I mean.

Since we had most of the stuff ready for pizzas, we made them anyway. We ate and the kids played. I was reminded how thankful I am for running water.

Moving

In an amazing order of events including one of my favorite untold poop stories, we have found the perfect house for our rowdy crew. Tomorrow we will close and begin moving our bunch into a barn. Yep.  Living our truth. My kids can finally tell people yes, they were raised in a barn. The truth is that I'm as wildly excited about God's provision here as the kids are. We can't wait to explore everything and make this place our own. We're celebrating the imminent move by succumbing one by one to fevers, congestion and stomach ache. I personally opted for the full package including the extra burning ulcer and caffeine restriction. Just for fun.

Thankfully, we don't have to be out of our house tomorrow.  If it takes a bit longer it'll be OK. After several years of fighting clutter, my closets seem to have joined the battle of the bulge. The more I pack away or just plain get rid of, the more seems to be waiting for me. Children's clothing breeds in the dark recess of the closet  or possibly the laundry hamper.  It produces litters of clothing just off a useful size or season. It all must be dealt with. Cabinets I thought were previously clutter free sprout old bottle pieces or random empty jars. It begs the question, is it ever possible to truly be packed and ready to move out? And of course, what goes out must go back in. The fun will continue.

Last night I spent my time rocking sick babies until the wee hours when I begged David to take over and give me a bit of rest (he did, by the way and even made breakfast). Tonight I can hear coughing starting up again. Rooms that should be packed and done are still waiting. But that's OK. We're not racing anyone.

Last week, David and I had a charming date at a Chinese restaurant. While waiting at the Walmart pharmacy for the billionth time this week, I found a long lost fortune cookie hiding in the recesses of my anti-Mary Poppins purse.  You know.  Hers was feather light and housed everything known to man.  Mine is a ton of bricks and I still can't find my keys! Anyway, the fortune cookie said "an extra hour is worth more than an ounce of gold".  Seriously. I'm not kidding. That's what it said. All I can say is if someone had paid me for all the hours this last week I've spent at a clinic or waiting on medications I'd be a rich woman. This moving story is definitely full of rich twists and turns and will never be forgotten!

It's Complicated

This morning, I took a break from never ending chores.  I drank the better part of a pot of coffee and walked around the yard watching my little boys play.  I like to do this on Wednesday mornings because my big ones are off at piano lessons and my attention doesn’t have to be divided.  I haven’t written much lately and it’s definitely not from lack of poo.  I’ve even had a couple of people kindly share their own poo stories with me.  I’m ever so grateful.  It’s so much fun to get to laugh at you.....I mean, with you.

Potty training is going remarkably well.  Tony is dedicated to keeping his undies dry these days.  He’s not quite so dedicated to actually making it to the potty.  I think I’ve finally convinced him that it’s unacceptable to pee on the porch right in front of the door.  Or on the porch stairs.  He recently experimented with peeing down the slide.  At church.  The one that his brother was currently sliding down.  But his undies are dry.

He’s had a little difficulty understanding why he has to put his pants back on as well.  When we went to the park the other day, I went to push Chuy on the swing for a bit.  When I wandered back to check on him, he was having a grand time climbing the playset. Naked from the waist down.  But when I found his undies and shorts, they were dry.  I’m choosing to count my blessings here and remember these stories to regale his future wife with.  

Devin’s vocabulary seems to be growing by the day.  I’m hoping it’s the result of hours of reading.  I’ve memorized the majority of Cat in the Hat, Go Dog Go, Foot Book, Put Me In The Zoo and numerous others.  The other morning, Devin searched for a lost book without success.  Finally, he went to David to explain what he was doing.  “I looked and can’t find my book!” He announced.  “Then it got complicated!” he finished.  Complicated?  Really?  Yes, it’s been a favorite explanation lately.  Like when he took a toy from Chuy.  Or when he pooped his pants in town.  You didn’t think I could write without having some sort of poop incident did you?  Yep.  Everything these days is “complicated”.

Speaking of which, I had a story that was begun a few weeks ago and as yet unpublished.  In the interest of letting you laugh at my expense, I thought I’d still share it.....

I don't go to the bathroom by myself. I'm usually followed by the two or three youngest who really feel the importance of cheering me on, handing me toilet paper and flushing the toilet before I have a chance to stand up. The oldest two are much more content to stand outside the bathroom door, peppering me with critically imperative questions like, "when I get done with my chores and math, what can I do?"  "when Dad gets home, what are we going to do?" and one of my favorites, "do we get ice cream tonight if we eat our supper?

In case you're wondering, the answers to these are usually," laundry", "laundry"  and "if I get interrupted one more time, you can have laundry for dessert!" You'd think I'd get more laundry done than I really do.

Today I found myself blissfully alone in the bathroom. I'd love to have taken time to enjoy the peace and quiet. But any mother knows how it goes. When the cat's away, the mice will burn the house down while trying to get to the candy. I hurried out to find Tony and Chuy had decorated several pictures for me. Some on paper. Mostly on the kitchen floor and refrigerator. In sharpie. I'll be sure to invite them along for my next bathroom trip.  

We're so excited to see Chuy taking an interest in potty training. He may be our easiest yet! He's already got the hang of going pee pee in the potty. He's tried to make it for poops a couple of times. Problem is, he feels like he must sit as far back on the potty as possible.  This results in a deposit down the back of the potty. Baby steps.

We had another fascinating experience today. The above was written yesterday. We can't have all our fun in one day. I was folding laundry in the living room, Tony and Devin squabbling quietly the my feet. Drew emerged from the bathroom to inform me that his toilet was overflowing. "Danae said it was stopped up.  I had to poop.  So I flushed it again and now it's not going down."  

I dashed to the bathroom to indeed find poopy toilet water overflowing onto the floor. I jiggled the handle to get the water to stop and dashed to my bedroom for boots. Yeah. I was NOT stepping in that.  Working with the plunger only resulted in more water sloshing over the side. Ug! I went for the toilet snake.

Just as I got the snake situated,  and by that I mean threaded about a quarter of the way into the toilet to be jiggled and cursed at until it accomplishes unclogging the drain, Tony began to wail in earnest about something Devin was doing. His piercing shriek grew in intensity until I had to abandon the bathroom to..... discipline the offenders. About that time, Chuy disappeared into Drew's room to mess with forbidden toys. One more spanking and I had over half my brood crying. Time to head back to the sewage in the bathroom.  I managed to clear the clog and put the snake in the bathtub to be washed.

Since everyone has to poop at the same time (is that the disadvantage of everyone eating together?), Chuy decided to take that opportunity to take care of business.  “Gucky, Momma!” He began to call.  But the bathtub I normally shower him in was currently housing the plunger and snake.  We made do with wipes and promises of a bath later.  

The upside was that the entire bathroom got bleached.  Curtains got taken down and washed.  Even the hallway got steam cleaned.  I have to say, I’m not sure I really expected this kind of excitement when I thought of having children.  Though, in sharing my stories, I’ve heard from several other moms that their life is covered in its fair share of poo too.  It’s just part of having kids.  And honestly, if we can find the humor in it, life becomes a little less complicated.  

Progress

I'm almost afraid to admit it, but we may have turned a corner with Tony. He's pooped in the potty four times now and I'm happy dancing all over the place. I've been having visions of handing him over to his bride someday with a package of adult diapers and baby wipes. Practicality says it wouldn't get that far, but when you're knee deep in the poop trenches it's hard to find the light at the end of the sewer drain. Is it possible that in another 18 months - 3 years I could see the end of the pampers budget? Seriously, I think I could have made a decent down payment on a house for what we've spent on diapers over the years. But what could I possibly have to write about if I'm not getting pooped on every other day? Maybe the visit I had with my sister where we decided it would be great if we could just tattoo socks on all our kids and save ourselves the eternal sock hunt. Or how, when I went to spank Chuy for playing during nap time today, he leapt into his bed, turned his face to the wall and began to pretend snore. Or maybe how we're finally in the end stages of getting paperwork finalized so that a couple of the boys' brothers can live with us permanently. OK. Maybe my life will not be boring  after all.

Truth be told, I can't hardly imagine life without my crew of pirates/super heroes/glazed doughnut monsters (that glaze on their face might look sweet and sugary, but I wouldn't kiss it if I were you) /puppies/wild animals/astronauts. Drew and Y made themselves jet packs this weekend out of discarded boxes, paper and cupcake liners. Genius. It kept them busy for hours! Anything they want to imagine can be acted out with a full compliment of characters. And their imagination only seems to grow as the family grows. Granted, their imagination often includes a full range of disgusting bodily noises, imaginary barf and snot. It's a boy thing.

This weekend, we will not only have our two soon-to-be Baucoms, but we'll also have another brother of theirs for a day and two of the boys friends for a couple days. A friend told me I'm crazy. I know she's right. At times we will have nine boys. All  ten and under. I'm already preparing food for the black hole that will be the dining room table. But I'm so excited about it! I'm sure there will be a post coming about the experience. Good, bad and insane.

Outing

Under most circumstances, I'd rather try to bathe twelve cats in the dark than take my kids on errands. The result is the same. You end up wrestling with a small irrational creature, frustrated, tired, and convinced that one of them has pooped while you weren't watching. Caterwalling and tears ensue. Except that when it's taking kids on errands, all of that is happening on aisle 5 at Walmart.
Today was an exception. We wanted to take the kids to see Frozen (by far the best movie put out by Disney in a long time). If we were going to be in town, we needed groceries. The other thing about having a large family and driving a municipal stadium everywhere is that you really avoid making too many trips to town. I  think my gas bill could feed a small family for a month.  We took a large breath and rolled the whole raucous herd into the bus. I have to stop here and admit that I love the life and excitement these kids bring to every activity. Doing stuff with them just makes me happy. But I digress.......
Sam's was our first stop. Usually, I'm there during the week or on Sunday afternoon. Nothing during those times prepared me for the sheer crush of people milling about the parking lot and store. I include the parking lot because people seemed to mosy through it as if they were window shopping for their next vehicle. No worries about people actually trying to make their way to an empty spot in the outer boondocks. 
David and I decided to divide and conquer in order to be able to get our stuff and get out in slightly less time than it took the Israelites to cross the desert. It worked well! The kids took joy in helping to heap our carts with all the stuff they like to scarf down during the week. They pointed out 500 other "yummy" looking foods (gum, trail mix, crackers, cookies, cheesecake...) that they really needed. With all the sympathy of someone who has to cough up the dough to feed these creatures with black holes for stomachs, I refused. Most of it. Some of it. OK. I bought the fishy crackers. And cheese sticks. And bacon. I'm sure I would have gotten all that anyway.
David took most of the kids to the bus while I checked out. As I watched them gather round him like little electrons around the big daddy nucleus, I couldn't hide my smile. We're a big family when you look at it from the outside. And lots of people were looking.
After Sams, we ate a snack in the picnic area of another local grocery while David ran in for coffee. My kids were everywhere. Crawling through hoops set up as a bike rack. Jumping from rock to rock. Playing follow the leader. Without a 'real'  play set, they had a ball just being with each other. And eating fishy crackers and cheese. See. I knew it would be handy.
The movie theater was surprisingly packed for a movie that has been out this long. We found good seats. The three big kids in  front of us and the rest scattered on and around us. Watching them laugh and engage in the story was as much fun as the movie itself.
Next stop. Food. Yes. More food. We dropped a small fortune at McDonald's for the sole  purpose of letting the hoodlums run and play after nearly two hours of sitting still. I was so proud of my kids. We filled two tables. They played and responded well to orders and discipline. We gathered them to go and I began to mentally pat myself on the back for the order we were managing to keep. Then Devin went and lit off the emergency alarm on our way out the door. Yeah. That's my  kid. So sorry. We were just leaving. Enjoy the ear piercing siren.
By this time it was 7:30. We're usually starting to work kids toward bed. And we still had to do Walmart. Divide and conquer once again saved us both time and frustration. I couldn't help but marvel at the fun we would have missed out on if we hadn't attempted what might have seemed crazy. The kids reveled in the experience of just being out with us. They were distracting and funny and helpful and worth having along.
We got home with tired kids and tired adults. But we were all happy.

Gilligan and the Internet

I wonder what would happen if life ever got boring around here. If there were an equal and opposite reaction to boring at my house, it might have to be a rainforest complete with howler monkeys and singing bears (you know... Like Jungle Book) being found in Antarctica.
Somehow everything happens here at once. We came home from Christmas vacation sick. Very sick. Our kids, on the other hand, felt great. When we began to feel better, David twisted his knee badly. Two different doctors later and we will soon get to pay a small fortune to have it fixed. As a final treat, our internet went down.
When we have no Internet, we also have no cell signal. And no phone. Entirely disconnected from the outside world, I found myself wandering around the house holding my cell phone up, seeking signal like the crew of Gilligan's Island sought radio waves. Please God, let someone be out there.
Fast forward to tonight. With David out of commission in the crawling department, I volunteered to be his hands under the house to fix our phone line. Two days with little to no outside connections had made me desperate. After all, it's only dark, creepy and 20 degrees outside. What could go wrong?
For starters, someone left the water hose on and part of under the house was soggy. I crawled in and found the wire. Slowly, I followed it down the house to where it ended, trying to avoid the worst of the mud. Spider webs dangled in my face and the cat, who had staked claim on a warm spot down there, began to howl his warning at my intrusion. The wire was not plugged in to anything. I  picked up the frayed end and wondered if we'd been getting internet by magic.  Apparently, it had been daisy chained into another wire and had come loose. No magic.  Just a great cat fight under the house had dislodged it. Great.
I should mention here that my electronic experience amounts to nil. This wire needed to be spliced into another one. David talked me through it. Red to red, green to green. Tape them together. Due to my new found electrical genius the phone line ever was, of course, still broken.
During this stage, there were times I had to just sit and wait for David to go check something or get a tool. I'm not proud to admit it, but generous amounts of extra fiber to my diet had resulted in equal amounts of intolerable flatulence. In the confines of the under house space, I had no one to blame my misery on but myself. As my eyes began to water and I considered escaping to the less polluted outdoors. But I needed my internet.
Plan B. We ran another line. Which involved trying to get it up through the floorboard and then running it down the length of the house. By this time, I'd crawled the length of the house about three times. My toes had begun to hurt. I considered the lengths to which I would go in order to have internet back. In the end, I decided that I had double benefits. Not only did I renew my connection with the outside world, but I also had an embarrassing and disgusting story to share with my readers.
As I finished my part in the ordeal and headed out, my calves decided they'd had enough too and cramped up. If anyone ever tells you that crawling isn't exercise, slap them for me. I hobbled my way up the stairs and into a hot shower. My amazing husband made coffee and we celebrated by staying up too late watching Netflix. This is definitely the good life.