That's What YOU Think

My kids do not think like I do. (Shocking, I know.)

Rumor has it this will continue well into adolescence. It's been said that even when they finally acheive adulthood and some form of maturity... they may still think differently than I do. (I assure you I will do my best to prevent that from happening.)

Um, this is not exactly what I meant when I said,
"Lay down and go to sleep!"

At what point do they begin to think like adults? At what stage do they look at a bookcase and cease to think that climbing it would be fun? When do they realize that drinking the water from the tub they just peed in is actually NOT a good idea? And don't even get me started about scissors.

No, children certainly do not think like we do. They have a wonderful sense of seeing the world only as it is presently. They do not look to the past, and they cannot look to the future. They see items and circumstances only as they are now. Which is their gift.

"I think I need a hat in the next size down..."

I look at our pots and pans reminding me of meals that need to be made, dishes that need to be washed, and meal planning that has yet to be done. My children see clanging cymbals, containers for trucks, and sometimes - hats. Whatever they happen to need in that moment, the objects around them can serve the purpose. They are not restrained with rules of how things are to be "used", what they are "for" and how they "work".

The imagination of a child is an amazing miracle. The world around them is still pliable. They can bend any object to serve the purpose at hand. The rigid structure of adulthood has not pierced their thoughts, inhibiting them from licking peanut butter off the table or turning couch cushions into forts. Responsibility and knowledge don't weigh on them, preventing them from enjoying dirt, water, food and bugs.

Mud Pie. It's no longer just for dessert!

They don't care if they get dirty. They don't have to care. That's what we're here for. So, as I walk around the house and find things that are a little "off", I have begun to take pictures. (Shocking, I know.) Reminders that their vision of the world around them is so different from my own...

Please join me on a short but fascinating trip into the minds of my children. But please, no questions - I have no idea what they were thinking.

"Whaddya mean pockets aren't made to hold dirt?
It works perfectly!"

"Who needs pancakes? Or a shirt? Or the ability
to actually twist open the cap?"

"But every time I took one bag out, another
popped up in it's place! Isn't that how
the game works?"

Swim suit or new headwear? She's such a
fashion trendsetter.

Why yes, that is a kitchen sink filled to the brim.
Why yes, that is my daughter drinking straight from it.
Why yes, that is my son scooping water oblivious to
how abnormal this entire situtation is...

You see: Iced Tea Pot
They see: Stuffed Animal Sleeping Quarters

Oh, like you haven't found your keys hanging from
holes in the walls at your house. Right.
(How the holes got there is another story...)

*No Caption Needed* (Ha!)

"Hey mom! What's in-hi-bition?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"How come adults have no idea how fun this room is?"

You see: Laundry Basket
She sees: Chair. Or Train. (Depends on the day.)

Speaking of trains... why bother with the plastic one
when you can invent your own?

I love the reminders that my children definitely do NOT think the way I do. On second thought, I take back my earlier statement. Maybe I won't do my best to teach them how to think like me. Maybe I'll even learn a little something from them.

Lies Our Parents Tell Us

By parents, I mean OUR parents - the Grands. Remember when you were a teenager, and you thought you knew far more than your parents did? Then you got smacked upside the head with reality and came to your senses? Well, apparently as we age, this process reverses. Your parents tell you things and think you won't catch on.

I'm a bit concerned this will continue to devolve, until they're actually spelling things again. "DeeDee, do you think Jen would mind if we fed I-C-E C-R-E-A-M to her children after taking them to the P-A-R-K during their N-A-P T-I-M-E?" If that conversation ever takes place in front of me, I've already got a game plan. I'm raiding the freezer and eating all the ice cream before they get back.

"She's kidding right? She couldn't possibly eat that
much ice cream..."
"We'd better tell PapaDeeDee to keep some extra
in the deep freeze."

Seriously though, the list of lies is astounding. Here are some of my favorites:

"The kids were great!" - I live with these short people. There is no way you had them for more than 24 hours without someone having a meltdown, eating the dish soap, climbing onto the kitchen table or - and I KNOW this one happened - stealing toys and hitting one another.

"We're just going to get them a little something." - I don't know if there was just too much LSD in the air when they were growing up, but a "little" ice cream somehow ends up being the ZiggyPiggy dish from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. A "little" gift takes up fourteen square feet of your living room, requires more battery power than the first supercomputer, and has it's own atmosphere. Which brings me to my next point...

The Grands are great! Mom and Dad will
never know we haven't slept all night!

"They went to bed a little late." - Clearly the word "little" changes it's definition as one ages. Eleven p.m. is not a "little" late. Eleven was my curfew just three months before I officially became an adult. Remember? Curfew? The time the Grands set as "too late"? Oh, if we could only reverse time. Let's see, my kids are supposed to be in bed by eight. They usually get to bed around ten when they're with The Grands. This equates to my waltzing into the house at 1 a.m. as a teen. If only I could have told them I was "just a little late" and recorded it for future use... but you know what they say about hindsight.

"Enjoy this time, it goes by way too quickly." - Nostalgia, n: a yearning to return to the past. Alzheimers, n: a progressive degenerative neurologic disease characterized by loss of mental ability. Nostalgheimers, n.: a progressive, degenerative loss of mental ability that begins the moment a parent is born.

Generally kept in check during the child rearing years, when grandchildren arrive Nostalgheimers rapidly erases all memory of potty training, temper tantrums, feces artwork and virtual heart attacks brought on by swingset mishaps. Left in its wake are nostalgic memories of the wonder of childhood, where your daughter sincerely asks to touch the moon, the search for a snail supersedes all other responsibilities, and the triumphant announcement "I did it myself!" somehow makes up for the fact that your child has walked into a fully populated room with no clothing, but two shoes on the right feet.

Christmas 2010

Unfortunately, a parent was born in September of 2008, and already the effects of Nostalgheimers is beginning to show in her memory banks. I was looking back on pictures from last year, when Mark had his "faux hawk" hairstyle. I'm already missing that soft red strip of hair down the middle of an almost bald head. Grace was enamored with the smallest of things... and her little face revealed all her emotions, because her words hadn't yet formed well enough.

"I did it myself!"

There is no cure for this disease. So, rather than confront the Grands with their devious behavior, I've decided to let it slide. It really isn't their fault, since it began the day they became parents. (Which makes it my sister's fault. In case you were wondering.)

Another Week Gone...

I've been ignoring my digital life lately. Well, not really ignoring it. I respond to e-mail, comment on Facebook posts, and generally keep in touch with anyone willing to send out an electronic shout. When it comes to ME sending out the electronic love... I've just not been into it. On the upside, my house is getting organized (not CLEAN really, but organized) which is always a good thing.

Robert and I recently started attending a Bible Study group once a week, and we're loving it. I also volunteer one night a week with a community organization, which has helped me stay in touch with the non-mom side of me. I'm loving where we're headed as a family right now, and feel like I'm finally able to do some of the things I dreamt about when I imagined being a SAHM. Of course, I'm also doing things I never would have imagined - but I'm enjoying those things too.

Here is one of those things. Grace loves helping me wash dishes. I swear I only left the room for a minute to check on Mark... and this is what I came back to:

She had been fully clothed moments before.
(The "Good & Clean" washtub keeps it G rated.)

I finally waded through our camping pictures. We had so much fun! We arrived at camp just a few minutes after my sister's family. We set up the tent and camper, and then... it rained. And rained. And rained! The first afternoon was spent in close quarters, but the next day was beautiful, and we really enjoyed ourselves. Here are the highlights:

Step One: Corral the infant. Yes, that's dead brown grass
in the background. California is a desert you know...

Step Two: Allow the younger children to get out their
energy after a long trip by, uh, playing with a fly swatter?

Step Three: Get Dirty. My kids are experts at this part.

Step Four: Find a comfy place to sit and share a snack.

 All of the above pictures were from day one. Even though it rained, we still had plenty of fun.

There was a ton of wildlife - that wasn't so wild - that would wander into camp. We saw lots of deer, quail, rabbits and other fun animals. The kids loved it.

"Look Gracie! A deer!"
The kids were always thrilled when deer wandered into camp.

Grace was determined to pet a deer, and she came very
close to them a number of times!

 The highlight of the trip was the lake. It ended up being a beautiful overcast day, making for pleasant weather and great water temps. We swam, played, and had a nice picnic lunch together.

We're at the lake, so naturally...
my kids play in the dirt.

"What? You thought we'd get in the water??"

Grace did, in fact, get in the water. Even when her lips
began to turn blue, she insisted she didn't want to get out!

Mark doing his best Humphrey Bogart at lunch.

My precious tired boy in Papa's lap. So sweet!

 After the lake, we headed back to camp and made FIRE. (I'm convinced this is the sole reason my husband loves camping - because he can "make fire".) We roasted hot dogs for dinner and enjoyed a classic:

S'more's!!

 We had a wonderful time with family and can't wait to do it all again next year - even if there's rain in the forecast!

"The Girls"
Gracie loves her cousins!

After all this, we also got together with family on the 4th of July, and stayed up late (very late) to watch the fireworks. I thought they might get scared, but Grace and Mark both loved it. Our city puts on a pretty good fireworks show, so this may become a family tradition.

"Look Grace! Pretend the fireworks have started so
mommy can take a picture!"
"Dad? I don't get it."

This week we finally got back into the routine of things, for which I am grateful. When the kids get thrown off schedule, chaos ensues. Of course, the kids are learning and doing new things all the time. Grace's newest thing is saying "What?" in order to get a repeat response from her listener. She thinks it's great fun. I can't wait until she learns... "Why?"

Mark is doing something new too - watching t.v.!!! He's not as mesmerized as Grace was when she first was introduced, but he will now sit for quite some time and watch alongside his sister. I try to limit the television time in the house, but I must confess I'm a bit excited at having a tool to keep both kids occupied (and not fighting) for a short time.

While there are always new things to share, some things never change:

We played in the backyard, and the kids ended up
making mud pies. Again.

"Is there a prize for the dirtiest kid?"

"Yeah! The top two get their very own
bath! Let's try to win!"

Whew! You're all up to date with the Sunshine family. There's a lot of fun going on around here. I hope you're having lots of fun this summer, spending time with family and finding time to do something that is uniquely for you. Until next week...

Yay! You made it to the end!!!

A Post Dated Post*

Dear Mommy,

Thank you so much for taking care of me this weekend when I was feeling sick. I have heard it said that boys can be big babies when they don't feel well, so I did my best to live up to all expectations. You did a great job of holding me constantly, and if you ever need  a recommendation for best person to pull an all-nighter with, you've got it.

I especially appreciated the fact that you kept constantly moving so that I could sleep. Next time, you should sleep too - I don't understand why the constant rocking and pacing didn't put you right to sleep. If you'd just kept moving while you were sleeping, we both would have had a much better night.

I also appreciate that despite only having three hours' of sleep, you still allowed me to have fun the next morning. Standing at the light switch for ten minutes was a blast. You flip it up, I push it down. Oh, and the light turns on and off too! How exciting is that? I can't believe we don't do this more often. Especially since it keeps my interest enough to keep me from crying. That's always a good thing.

Also, letting me have the spoon at breakfast? That made me happy too. I suppose you were just too tired to fight the constant battle for the spoon any longer. Sorry about the bright purple blueberry spot on the floor. I had no idea what a great arm I had for flinging that stuff around!

Thanks for all the kisses and cuddles, the constant checking on me and the personalized attention. I had a great time. I can't wait until next time I'm sick, so we can do this all over again!

Love,
Mark

*Confessions of a blogging mom: I tend to write multiple posts at a time when the muse strikes, and then leave them in draft form so I can pull out a quick post when time (or creative energy) is running low. Mark is not actually sick this week (thank heavens!). This letter was written in February, but when I ran across it today... it still seemed timely. I hope you enjoyed it.

Another Week Gone...

Okay, so this blog is three days late. Do you want to know why? (Well, if you're still reading, of course you do!) I have a major mommy confession to make.

I took NO pictures of the kids this week. None. Nada. Zero. Zip. For most moms, that's par for the course. For me, it's practically child neglect. So, since I had very little material to give you... I didn't.

However, I did have some exciting stuff happen in my little blogger life, so I'll tell you all about that instead. How's that sound? (Not as good huh? Well, it's all I've got. As I tell the kids "You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit.")

Moving on.

Monday's post about my Quantum Toddler was my 100th post!!!

Wow! 100 totally random and barely decipherable ravings! You're welcome.

Seriously, I am pretty excited about the whole thing. Despite my lackluster performance with keeping to a schedule lately, I've seen my readership grow, and I've been getting all kinds of nice feedback from you wonderful people, so it's pretty fun to reach a milestone like that.

Speaking of feedback, I also changed my comment system (yet again) because we couldn't seem to fix the old one. Now we're back to the regular Blogger system and guess what?!? Within 24 hours of moving back - I got my first spammer comment!! Yay!
(I told you this was an exciting blogger week for me.) Yeppers, somebody made a comment about how I had such a nice blog that they bookmarked it. And then they posted a link to a site selling cell phones. Woot! From what I hear, hate mail is the next big step in my blogger life. I can hardly wait.

Lastly, I received another blogger award! Now, I know I told you last year that I was giving up the whole competitive blogger world, and just settling in my own little corner. This is still true. However, when someone is nice enough to find me in this corner, and they don't imply that I'm here because I've misbehaved and "need to think about what I've done", then I like to say thanks. So here goes:

A big thank you to Bert over at First Time Mom (FTM) for sending the Verstatile Blogger award my way! As usual, there are some requirements that go with accepting this honor. You are supposed to share 7 things about yourself, and then pass the award on to 15 other newly discovered bloggers.

Well, if you haven't noticed, I barely have time to keep up my own blog, much less "discover" fifteen others. So you're looking at a mama with no new blogger friends. I do follow some pretty great blogs though, so please see the "Stuff I Like To Read" column to the right if you're looking for some great reading.

I am capable of sharing seven things about myself though, and I'll try to make them remotely interesting - or at least something you may not have known about me. Hopefully these revelations won't keep you from ever visiting Sunshine SAHM again.

1) I hate being called Jenny. Jennifer or Jen is just fine, but only my cousin Andy and my Aunt Peggy are allowed to call me Jenny. And, oddly enough, if Andy or Aunt Peggy were to call me anything else, I'd feel hurt. I guess the seven year old in me still needs a little encouragement every now and then.

2) I read CNBC daily (yes, even Saturday and Sunday, pointless as it is). I follow the financial markets pretty closely. Just this week, I was on the phone with our financial guy discussing the downturn in the market while changing a poopy diaper.

Yeah, wouldn't you love to drop that into a discussion when telling people you're a SAHM? "Yes, I stay at home with my kids - but I'm not an idiot! I can discuss the finer points of market downturns and dollar deleveraging while wiping rear ends. Now wipe that smirk off your face before I re-allocate your portfolio." Yeah - that would be fun.

3) I'm an INTJ. If you don't know what that means, find out what you are here. Then Google it. A Google search on my personality dug up this. I must confess, the Guide to Dealing with INTJ's at that link is absolutely right on - and I hope you don't hate me now after reading that list. If you do, please see number eleven. (Please note: Also see number eight, as most of the list is dripping in that.)

4) Wow. I thought I had seven items... I'm running low here. Oh - my daughter brushed my teeth tonight. Using her toothbrush. Betcha didn't know that about me.

5) I love the phrase "I would know myself better if there weren't so many of me." Contradiction seems to permeate my life. How can you love your kids so much, yet run around the house whooping and yelling when Grandma Dee Dee says she's going to take them to her house overnight? How can you be a conservative Republican and yet feel your Christian values align more with liberal Democrats in helping the poor? How can you hate laundry so much, and yet still wear clothes every day? Contradictions: My Way Of Life.

6) If I could do anything (career-wise) I'd be a SAHM. I'd want a cook, maid and gardener of course, but I'd still be a SAHM. Oh, and if there is such a thing as a Professional Potty Trainer, I'd want one of them too.

7) I love that all of you take the time to read my blog. I really do. There is something satisfying in presenting the world with ideas and words, and then getting positive feedback from others. So, thanks. I appreciate you all very, very much.

Well, I guess that's it for this week! Thanks for making it all the way to the end with no pictures - my kids would have given up long ago. Until next week...

Guilt Be Gone

Disciplining my kids has got to be the most difficult parenting duty so far. Last year, I would have told you it was packing up and moving to a new house while nine months pregnant, with an 18 month old in tow. This year, it's dealing with the physical, mental and especially the emotional part of discipline.

I have a two year old. She likes to try all kinds of new things. She also likes to be defiant. It's not so much an in your face verbal rant (since she doesn't say much), it's a “look-you-straight-in-the-eye-and-do-exactly-what-you-just-told-me-not-to-do” kind of defiance.

My journey of learning to discipline has only just begun. Luckily, I feel I have some good resources to rely on, not the least of which is biblical examples. I admit my husband and I have high expectations of my children. Here are some examples of what we expect:

Our children should obey the first time we make a request.
Our children should not whine.
Our children should not cry in response to a request. (They can cry if disciplined, but not simply because they were told "no".)
Our children should be respectful towards themselves and others.

Did you make it this far without breaking into hysterical laughter? Good, because like most people who are still breathing, I realize that expectations and actual results are two completely different realities. I also believe that this is where many parents find their parenting style begins to diverge from others. This led to a parenting revelation for me, so I've decided to share what I learned.

Somehow, as parents we feel that when our children do not behave as they should, we have two options: lower our expectations or increase the discipline. Are these really our only options?

No matter what your method of choice (spanking, time-outs, yelling, etc.) a parent is the final decision maker when it comes to how and when to discipline their children. Here is an example: If I tell my child to pick up a toy, then she should do it. But when? Immediately? Before doing something else? After four warnings, counting to three, two yells, one threat and then grabbing her hand to place it on the toy in question?

I (or my husband) get to decide what is is acceptable for our family. I set the expectations for my children. I may not always succeed in reaching those expectations, but no one else is going to set them for me. And so, when disciplining, I have chosen to set the bar high. To be strict. To want what is best for my children, and to measure my expectations by biblical standards, not by what other parents are doing, or what other parents may find acceptable (or unacceptable).

I also get to exercise grace. I get to decide if my child is hungry, tired, over stimulated, confused, or just being a child - not being defiant. Strangers can look into my house and watch me discipline, and they can (and will) judge. Do you think I’m too strict? You don’t have to live through the heartbreak of watching my child make poor decisions because I wasn't strong enough to discipline them and teach them self control. Think I’m too lenient? You won’t live with the pain of a child who doesn't want to associate with you because absolute compliance was demanded at the expense of the relationship.

No one else has the same stake in my children's lives that I do. And no one knows that better than I.

Parenting isn't easy. Like most moms, I consult regularly with other parents to get ideas, track my child’s progress and generally make sure we’ve collectively lost our minds. This used to result in feelings of guilt if I felt I was harsher on my kids, or if my kids didn’t behave as well as the next. This year, I’ve finally allowed myself not to feel guilty about my parenting style.

One day you may think I'm being too easy on my child. You don't know that she woke up at 5am and has been fighting a cold. You may think I'm far too strict. You don't know that she did this exact same thing yesterday, and absolutely knows better. That's okay, it's not your job to know.

I love my kids and they love me. We have fun together. We laugh, play, joke and sometimes, we cry. It was the same way with my parents when I was growing up. When I was spanked as a child, occasionally my parents would tell me “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” Now I’m the parent, and I know exactly what they meant. I’m grateful that they were willing to bear the heartache of discipline to help me become who I am today, and I hope their legacy of respect, discipline, and love continues on in my children.

If, like me, you sometimes struggle with whether you are doing things "right", I would encourage you not to measure your success against other children or families. Everyone has different standards and personalities. Rest easy in the fact that you love your children like no one else, and honestly do the best you can - even if it hurts a little.

Overdue Apologies

Dear Mom, Sister, Best Friend, Aunts, Cousins, Friends, Acquaintances and woman in the check out line at the bank:

I would like to take a moment to send out a long overdue apology. It has taken far longer than it should have; partly because I didn't have children until I was in my thirties, and partly because my children have laid claim to all of my brain cells for the last two years. So, without further delay, here it is:

I would like to apologize for anything I ever thought, implied, wrote, gossiped, shared, commented on, or (heaven forbid) actually said out loud regarding how to raise children prior to actually giving birth.

Thank you for your understanding.

With sincerest apologies,
Sunshine SAHM

P.S. This apology goes out to all of your male counterparts as well. Amen.

A Contribution to the English Language

Did you know that some of the words we use were only created because a new invention or technology required an adjective be created to distinguish the old technology from the new?

Have I lost you already? Okay class, let's give some examples.

Analog is a word that was only created after the invention of digital. No one defined a clock, phone or other such devices as "analog" until digital technology was introduced. "Land line"? Who had need to distinguish that your phone was actually connected to the wall prior to the invention of wireless? Lastly, due to a recent trip to the post office on tax day (stupid, stupid, stupid...) I point out "snail mail". Had this term been used just two decades ago, your friends and family would have placed a salt shaker by the mailbox, in case you made good on your statement.

After the celebration of my son's first birthday, I feel compelled to comment on another string of adjectives making its way into the mainstream: frustration-free packaging. Unlike the aforementioned words, this phrase was not invented to distinguish it from a newer technology. No, this phrase is the latest "technology". What I would like to comment on is the lack of a moniker for its predecessor, which - trust me - is still alive and well.

Since I appear to be the only one aware of this enormous gap in the English language, I would like to present some options for the current packaging.

Frustration Inducing Containers: Known as FIC. I enjoy this name only because it would sound wildly appropriate when opening such a container. Imagine the following:

Wife: "Honey, why is your face so red?"
Husband: "Because I'm trying to open this FIC-ing container and the kids are so impatient to get at the toys they've begun to chant and beat drums while circling around me! I think I've got about two minutes before they throw me to the wolves and tear at the packaging with their teeth!"

Hmmm. FIC-ing container? Maybe it's not as appropriate as it sounds when you put twelve party attending two year olds on the scene.

Multiple Object Container: Shortened to MOC (pronounced "mock"). So named because of the myriad of devices needed to unlock the prize within the package. Why is it that a toy for a one year old takes three adults, two scissors, one multi-tool and three hours to open? Yes, MOC has potential.

Hazard Inducing Instruments of Death: Pronounced "hide", HIID is probably the best description for the current wrappings the industry moguls have dreamed up. In an effort to prevent theft, danger to children, and any chance that parents may actually relax after their children receive a gift, packaging has now become so ridiculous that our lives are in danger.

You've seen it - the large gashes in fingers and palms from that terrible hard plastic encasing a toy so perfectly that Saran wrap could not have formed any closer. One of my son's gifts had so many twist ties, small screws placed through tiny plastic washers, and minute pieces of invisible tape, that once we finally retrieved the toy from it's oppressive surroundings, the "safe for under age 3" product had left so many choking hazards in its wake I wondered if we should move the party outside until I had a chance to properly vacuum! The worst part? The gift was from me.

Yes, I believe HIID is a wonderful description for these contraptions. Decades from now, when HIID containers are just a distant memory, our children will recall how their parents screamed in horror, running from the room, trying to "hide" from the awful packaging that awaited every knife, screwdriver and blowtorch in the house.

Of course, the irritation of opening a package is only a precursor to the next stage of terror:

But I'll leave that for another time.

Excuse Me, But That's Not Chocolate.

Every seasoned parent likes to share sordid stories of what their kids did "when ours were the age yours are now". Why? Why do you do this? Why do you tell us these things?
We cannot take our children back and demand a refund. There is no buyer's remorse or lemon law. Finders, keepers.

Maybe other parents enjoy hearing these tales. Certainly the parents telling the stories chuckle and even laugh at their prior experiences. I sometimes chuckle. I have even been known to laugh. Mostly, I cover my ears and begin chanting "la, la, la, la" when these stories begin. I don't know how she does it, but Grace somehow climbs into my brain, retrieves these morsels of information, and uses them like a road map to each new adventure.

Enter the next new adventure:

That is an empty Pull-Up. And by empty,
I don't mean there is no child in it.

Thankfully, the mess covered a fairly small area.
Considering my laundry handicap however, this was a major event.

NO. That is not chocolate. It's exactly what it looks like. Why did a take a picture? So I wouldn't lose my mind. I can look back and think, I survived.

That, and I'm amassing photos for Grace's 16th birthday party.

If you are a parent, you could tell this story. So I won't. I will tell you that this photo was sent to my husband last Friday, with the caption "No matter how crappy your day was, trust me. Mine was crappier."

Truth.

Supervisor And Home Maker: An Inside Look at the Job of a SAHM (Part Two)

Welcome back! Our cliff hanger from last time left you wondering:

Will our SAHM get the kitchen clean before lunchtime?
Will Gracie escape the clutches of her high chair?
Why haven't we heard anything from Mark?
Will the Cheerios on the floor ever get swept up?

Poise those fingers over that mouse as we bring you the final installment of "SAHM: Why Nothing Ever Gets Done Around Here"!

Uh.... peep?

Experienced supervisors know that you do not unstrap the toddler from the high chair before going to check on another employee. Instead, you immediately search for your second staff member, hoping to find him happily engaged in his work. Unfortunately, you find him at the water cooler. And by water cooler, I mean toilet. When you took your daughter to the bathroom earlier, you left the door open. You gently remind your water soaked employee that the toilet bowl is not a kiddie sized sink, and is not to be used as a face washing station. You then explain that if this happens again you may have to write him up, and then detain him in the playpen that has been reserved for insubordinate employees.

You wash his hands and face with anti-bacterial soap, change his shirt, and send up thanks that while the toilet water was definitely dirty, at least you had flushed the toilet this time.

On the way back to the kitchen, you happily note that your two year old is not screaming her head off, wanting to be released from her plastic prison. As you turn the corner, you realize it's because said two year old can reach the salt dispenser on the table - even with all five high chair straps firmly fastened. If she were training for an Olympic medal in gymnastics, you would be beaming with pride. Instead, you give her the same lecture about playpens that you just gave your other employee, and grab the damp dish cloth.

Yes, I know this is not salt. That doesn't mean it hasn't happened.
I only have so much time to photograph my children's misbehavior.

You wipe down her hands and face, and release her from that wonderful invention you strap small children into to keep them from going anywhere. This is considered culturally acceptable because it's designed to appear that restraint harnesses are required in order for them to eat - and who am I to say differently?

You wipe down the kitchen table, which looks like a major snowstorm just blew through. That's when you hear the kids happily removing the three utensils you'd managed to place in the dishwasher. Unfortunately, between the two of them there are four hands. And one of them is empty. Naturally, the empty hand is used to shove the baby and take the spatula from him.

Supervisors often have to deal with employee conflict. Luckily, our SAHM has a lot of experience in this area since it happens constantly.

Sit baby upright, remove spoon from hand. Ignore high decibel screaming, as it is unclear if it is a result of being pushed, or having utensil removed from clenched fist. Give two year old the playpen lecture again. Resist urge to take photograph of child with butter knife and spatula in hand, and create "Wanted: Armed and Dangerous" poster. Remove said knife and spatula, before Wanted Poster is actually required. Ignore screaming, as it is unclear if it is a result of being lectured or having utensils removed from clenched fists.

You now send both employees to the play room with instructions to work harmoniously. You chuckle to yourself as you approach the kitchen, and wonder how much longer you can survive before you finally go insane and eat every item in the break room fridge, whether it's been labeled with another employee's name or not. A bottle with the name "Mark"? Make mine a double.

On the way back to the sink, you pick up your toddler's plate, fork, high chair tray and sippy cup.  You wonder if anyone would notice if you just threw them away...

You actually finish loading the diswasher before you realize that almost ten minutes have passed and not a single employee has come in to complain. Not one scream has come from the "office". Nary a peep. You fight visions of what happened the last time you didn't hear a peep as you race toward the play room, praying everyone is still conscious.

Hey Mark! Do you know why they
call this the "sleeper hold"?

You delight in your supervisorial skills when you find your newest team member happily chewing on the sock the other employee has just removed. You wonder if it has a slight egg yolk flavor. Your tallest employee has climbed onto the top of the table and is busying herself by chewing on her newly exposed toenails. You head to the kitchen with a spring in your step. Everyone is conscious, no one is screaming, you have a fully loaded dishwasher and your toddlers toenails have been clipped. Could "Employee of the Year" be far behind?

You wash, dry and replace the high chair trays. You put soap in the dishwasher and actually remember to turn it on. You grab the broom, sweep up Cheerios, toast crumbs and what appears to be dehydrated corn. You look at the clock and congratulate yourself that it has only taken an hour to load one skillet, one spatula, one butter knife and the breakfast dishes of three people. You might be in line for a promotion with that kind of efficiency.

You head to the playroom, ignoring the banana bits stuck to the linoleum, the toast crumbs hiding under the high chair cover, and the fact that there is an egg yolk handprint in the center of your back. You've got an entire hour to play before the lunch hour begins. Who wouldn't love this job?

If the above scenario wasn't enough to satisfy your curiousity, please contact us for consideration for our intern position. If you are awarded the job, you will receive no pay, no lunch breaks, no ruined clothing allowance, and your fourteen hour work day will leave you with no sense of accomplishment. Apply now!

Supervisor And Home Maker: An Inside Look at the Job of a SAHM (Part One)

Last week my mother asked which I thought was harder: being a stay at home mom or a working mom. I answered, a little sheepishly, being a SAHM. Prior to staying at home, I couldn't understand what was so difficult about getting basic chores done. All I saw were FaceBook status' about playdates, lunches with friends and enjoying sunny days at the park.

What I didn't know what that all of those had been arranged because if mom and the kids stayed in the house for one more moment, someone would have ended up in a crib or playpen all day (probably mommy).

Think of being a SAHM as the equivalent of being a supervisor at work. You have people that you constantly need to check on, follow up with, and evaluate.

Of course, there's an exception. Instead of checking on your employees each hour, you check on them every ten minutes (or less). Instead of keeping them from sending out bad information or messing up product, you're trying to keep them from killing themselves. Or each other. The younger your subordinates, the more often they have to be monitored. Therefore, a chore that you would normally complete in ten to fifteen minutes now takes half an hour. Or more.

Still not following? Let me provide you with an example:

Your two employees are happily strapped into their respective high chairs. The newest employee is drinking the last of the milk from his bottle. The more seasoned employee is munching on eggs, toast, and remnants of yesterday's dinner surreptitiously saved under the high chair cover. (For those of you who are not parents, this is probably buttered corn kernels, now the consistency of raisins. Or something equally gross. And chewy.) You have just completed your own breakfast and use this as an opportunity to clean the kitchen and do the dishes. This task should take about fifteen minutes.
Correction: This task should take a normal adult, with no other obligations or distractions, about fifteen minutes.

You start by rinsing your dishes and clearing the counter. Just as the butter makes its way back into the fridge, you hear the distinct sound of a bottle hitting the floor. As the refrigerator door closes, the crying begins. You walk over, pick up the bottle, and give it back to the baby. You also notice that your two year old is practicing her "sharing" techniques. Very, very nice... except the baby will choke if he gets his applesauce covered hands on her discarded egg whites.

Move high chairs further apart. Step on Cheerio, smashing it to bits and leaving oat carnage in your wake. Go back to cleaning counter.

You manage to get the counter wiped down and the skillet in the sink before your two year old announces: "Mommy! Pee Pee!". You head over with a damp washrag and quickly wipe down the two egg yolk covered hands threatening to soil your shirt as you help her down from the chair. You head to the bathroom, and once again wonder if giving M&Ms as a reward are a good idea, since she's eaten more chocolate than eggs this morning.

*Note: A good supervisor knows that you must keep your employee morale high if you want to see results. And when it comes to potty training, you desperately want to see results.

After strapping your associate back into her high chair, you resume work on the skillet. You try to supress the excitement of being able to open the dishwasher without having to fend off the small intruders who always attempt to climb onto the door. And eat the knives.

You get a plate, spatula and two utensils into the machine before the baby starts to fuss. Actually, he's been fussing for awhile. He dropped his bottle. Again. It's because he's no longer interested in eating, and now wants to get down and play. You dampen a paper towel and head over to wipe his hands. And face. And eyelashes. And the back of his head. And his left foot.

If you're a parent, this requires no explanation. If you're not, well... here:

You let your underling down from the high chair so he can... go do whatever it is underlings do. As long as he doesn't fuss, break something, or get into mortal danger, you don't really care. You've got one clear counter and a sink full of dishes to worry about. Speaking of which, you've added a baby spoon, bowl, bottle and high chair tray to the pile. Which makes the counter look far less clean than it did two minutes ago.

As you scrape banana crust from the tray and wonder again how he manages to get food everywhere but his mouth, your two year old decides she is also done. You know this because she has taken all the food off of her plate, and put the plate upside down on the top of her head. You begin to wish you had scrambled the eggs, instead of cooking them over easy. You walk over to remove the plate from her head, which has stayed neatly in place despite her attempt dodge you. Egg yolk is helpful like that.

As you put the food back on the plate, your toddler gives you a great big hug. Affectionate? Yes. Sanitary? No. You reach for yet another paper towel, and decide a wash rag would do a better job on those egg-yolk covered fingers. And face. And head.

And then you realize you haven't heard a peep from the baby.

Stay tuned for the next episode of "Supervisor And Home Maker: Why Nothing Ever Gets Done Around Here."

Since I deprived you last week by not posting anything (my mother informed me that this had been duly noted and she was going through withdrawals) I'll post part two on Wednesday. Or Thursday.

These things sometimes take longer than they should you know.