Magic, Miracles, and Misleading Movies

If you ask anyone, I'm the first person to believe in Magic. (At least. I'm the first person to get excited about something magical, even if it's a bit misleading).

The idea of magic thrills me.

And, apparently, it thrills my 5 year old because tonight he attempted his very first magical act.

And failed.

To his utter shock and disappointment.

And who had to deal with the fall out? The 'this is real life and that is make believe' discussion?

Oh, no.

Not me.

Nope.

I lied so bad, Pinocchio ain't got nothin' on me!

...But before I go on, let me tell you the tale of the time when my son's hopes and dreams came crashing down around him...

Since our move, my son has found a new movie obsession. (Now that I think about it, it's the same movie obsession that my brothers had at that age. Hmmm, does anyone else smell a Hollywood conspiracy?)

Anyway,

Tyler has been watching 'The Indian in the Cupboard' religiously for about two months now. I'm not sure if it's the magic, if it's the fact that it all happens to a little boy, or both; but he loves this movie.

Now normally, this is where a mother's tale would end.

Her kid loves a movie, watches it all the time, yada yada yada.

Yeah.

Got it lady. We've all been there.

Right?

But, unfortunately for me, this is just where it starts.

Because many moons ago, when I was just a young child of...I can't even remember, my dear grandmother made me, my brothers, and my cousins little wooden boxes.

The boxes belonging to me and her only other female granddaughter were, what else, Barbie. My brothers' and all my male cousins got boxes decorated after (you guessed it) The Indian in the Cupboard.

Not only were they decorated; she had also bought them the movie complete with the Indian action figure and the key to use with their boxes.

(And all my cousin and I got were McDonald's barbies. Favoritism much?)

...Flash forward however many years...

One of my brothers still has their box (or rather, they think they do but really my son has claimed it as his own).

Tyler has been playing with this box for a while now. Every time he watches the movie, the box is by his side.

Well, recently, we found the Indian.

Yay for us! Right?

So he now has the box and the Indian, he plays in compete and utter happiness, and watches his movie...end of story?

Nope.

I'm not that lucky.

(Because I am the cleaning type of person that I am) somehow today he came across the long lost key for the box.

Insert my 'Oh, crap' here.

And (as I'm sure you've already guessed) in goes the Indian.

Twist goes the key.

AND...

He's still plastic.

Shocker.

Enter crestfallen, heartbroken, and devastated little boy whom I now very carefully have to put back together.

So as he looked up at me with his big, brown, puppy dog eyes I told him exactly what he needed to hear to help him understand this momentous disappointment in his life....

"It's not the right cupboard."

Losing My Mind and the Duck Tape

There comes a time in a child's life when the gloves have to come off.

When their parents can no longer play fair and laugh at their innocent antics.

A time when, frankly, you have to play dirty with your kids or risk drowning in their pool of personality.

I have reached such a time.

I don't know if it was the move. (We recently relocated for my Husbands new job). Or if it's just the age. 

But the newest habbit of my beautiful, intelligent and youngest son is to remove his diaper.

Sounds cute right?

You can picture it now, can't you?

A half naked little boy running through the house, little butt cheeks peeking around corners when he's trying to hide from you.

Something adorable, right out of a disney movie.


No.

No, it's not.

Imagine this instead:

A diaper laying on the floor where a sweet little angel removed and threw it.

A smell that takes your breath away the second you enter the room.

And a brand new painting decorating your white bedroom walls...

And the floor...

And the bed...

And the clean pile of clothes you havent had a chance to put away yet...

And the baby.

Goop in his hair, on his hands, feet, and any other place both visible and not.

Can you picture it?

I can.

I've lived it.

Many times.

What's the big deal, you ask?

He's just a little boy. He just needs to be taught.

Haven't met my kid have you?

There's no teaching this child.

I have been told on multiple occasions by some of the most elderly individuals I know, that they have never in their lives seen a child as mischievious and inteligent as this one.

Think a brunette Dennis the Mennis with an older sibling to pick on and you've just about nailed my son.

Just about.

So what's a mom to do?

I've tried layering the clothes....yeah, right.

Disciplining.

And I've even tried the laid back method..."boys will be boys, if you don't react he'll get bored with the behavior and it will stop."

Who comes up with this crap?!?!

So I turned to the only avenue that would allow me to sleep at night without a bucket of water and a sponge beside my bed...

Duck Tape.

Industrial strength, you aren't getting this off until you die, Duck Tape.

I know what you're thinking:

How can you do something like that?!

What kind of mother are you?!

I'm a mother who can now sleep at night after an entire summer and fall of daiper removing hell.

I'm a mother who no longer has to take an hour and a half out of my busy day (and/or) night to clean a mess that was never ending.

I'm a mother who hasn't had to scrub poop off the cieling of my son's room in 2 months because he can't get his diaper off.

At least, not until the other night.

When I lost the Duck Tape.

Imagine if you can, everything I described above.

All the horror and endless smell MULTIPIED BY TEN.

Getting back at me for months of making him keep his diaper on?

Most likely.

But I've learned 3 things from all of this:

1. 2 year old boys were sent to this earth to torture and kill thier mothers. (It's a simple fact. Ask the mother of any little boy and I garantee they will agree.)

2. Processed food makes the smell worse.

3. I will never, ever run out or lose the Duck Tape again. (I have successfully purchased every last roll of Duck Tape this town has to offer and you'll have to pay a substantial amount if you need one).

From Momma Bear's Den: All Eyes On Me

You know how they say that Moms must have eyes in the backs of their heads or a sixth sense when it comes to their children?

How they can almost predict to the second what their child is doing even from several rooms away?

And all it takes is a sound (or in many cases the lack of sound) that triggers this phenomena?

Well, personally, I don't think that is just a Mom thing.

Why is that you ask?

Because...

*crouching low and whispering*

I think my children are psychic.

No joke.

They always seem to know what is going on in this house and who it's happening to.

They can predict your every move and they always seem to know when Papa Bear and I have done something that we don't want them to know about.

Case and point:

I'm in the kitchen the other night. Cleaning. Cooking supper. The usual.

I've been in there about an hour at this point getting everything done and it's been kinda nice because the boys are playing quietly in the bedroom.

So I decide I'm gonna have a little snack to reward myself.

Nothing major, just a packet of fruit snacks.

I grab the packet out of the basket, look up and...

BOOM!!!

...there are 2 little sets of brown eyes looking at me from behind the baby gates on either side of my kitchen.

How they got there I don't know. They weren't there when I bent over to get the snacks.

They just magically appeared.

Ready and waiting to mooch my fruit snacks.

And this isn't the only occasion that my children have demonstrated their supernatural abilities.

(Although I have noticed that most of these skills surface when food is involved. But that might just be a coincidence.)

No, I've seen these skills on many occasions.

Like last week when Papa Bear took a bite out of a granola bar.

Cub #2 strolls in and Papa Bear stops chewing before he is seen.

He smiles down to Cub #2 as though nothing is amiss and...

BOOM

...Cub #2 starts clapping and whining for a bite of his own.

Just like that.

Now, mind you, Cub #2 is 14 months old. He isn't supposed to know these kinds of things.

(Side Note: We are teaching Cub #2 sign language and his version of the sign for more is to clap.)

Or how about the time when Cub #1 left his lunch plate on the table when he was "done" eating. (i.e. He had better things to do at the moment).

So after about an hour of it sitting there without him even coming into the room let along touching the food, I picked it up to clean.

Took the plate to the trash.

Opened the lid, threw in the half eaten mess and...

BOOM!!!

..."Mom, where's my plate. I wanna finish it now."

Never fails.

I don't know where they learned this trick or if it just comes naturally.

But I'm telling you. I need to have them tested.

Perhaps if I do and something comes of it they'll go grow up to work for high powered business execs who will rely on the talents of my little Cubs completely in order to run his company.

Hey, a mom can dream.

Right?

From Momma Bear's Den: The World's Worse Virus

As a mother of 2 I'm often faced with the many viruses and illnesses that my cubs bring home from their worldly adventures.

Colds that have them coughing all over my newly scoured house, flus that have me running to find where on earth they have hidden the bucket (this time) before it's too late.

But recently I've had to deal with the worst virus I've ever encountered.

One that was so massive it has not only had me down for almost 2 1/2 months but it pretty much took away any access I've had to the outside world.

What kind of virus, you ask, could do so much damage for such an extended period of time?

A computer virus.

Not just any computer virus.

Oh no. Because that would be an easy fix and as anyone who knows me could tell you, my life has no easy fixes.

No, my computer somehow obtained a Trojan virus with spyware.

And not just one...

...but TWO.

Now, I'm not the most technically minded of women. I didn't realize exactly what this meant for my poor desktop friend, until my friend was no more. (I also didn't realize how close of friends we were. But we wont open that can of worms.)

But apparently, with a Trojan virus, it will completely take over your computer.

We're talking in-bed itself in any file it can, take it over, and pretty much laugh at you when you attempt to do anything with that file.

AND, not only that, but it can multiply itself within other files on your computer.

Essentially staging a hostile take-over and making you a sad, lonely, and bored, computer-less person, i.e. me the last 2 1/2 months.

After this lengthy explanation as to why I've been absent from my blogging obligations, you may be wondering what I've been doing to get myself through this though time.

So, let me tell you. I have become the cleaning Nazi.

Now, I've always kept a pretty clean house. There may have been a few extra toys laying about or a pile of papers I'd yet to find a place for, but my house was always visitor ready.

Until recently.

Recently my house has been spotless. Including my children. There wasn't a cluttered surface, a sticky finger-print, an unfolded t-shirt, or an unmade bed with-in 20 foot of my house.

I'm amazed by how much I was able to get (and to keep) done once there wasn't the distraction of a social life taking up the hours of my day.

Unfortunately for both my family and my home, the computer is back and so is my morning coffee, pop-tart, and Facebook breakfast.

The dishes will just have to wait until later.