Confessions of a Guilty Mom

As a doting mother, wanting all four of her children to look adorable this Halloween, I diligently sewed four clown costumes that were much too detailed to ever be bought in a costume shop. They were outfitted from head-to-toe...from colorful bows to colorful beaded socks. I spent lots of time creating these costumes, even though I am NOT a fan of Halloween.

I was so excited for the kids to wear their costumes to school today, that I was up at the crack of dawn, getting myself ready so I could help my clowns when they awoke. One by one, I helped them get into their costumes, finishing them off with a painted face, per their directions.

It wasn't until we walked into their classroom that the guilt struck me. Did I fail to mention that Isaac did NOT want to be a clown? Although he never once complained while I was getting him ready, nor did he complain when we got to school, I could see the disappointment on his little face when he noticed that EVERY other little boy was either a pirate or a super hero. You know...things little boys want to dress up as. He rattled off the name of every one of those boys' characters, and immediately, I felt 1 inch tall. I wanted so badly to whisk him back home and sew up a super hero costume that would put all the others to shame. I didn't make mention of my guilt to my handsome little clown, for he was by far the cutest little character in the whole class.

PS. Should I feel more guilty about the fact that I refuse to take them trick-or-treating tonight? After all, it is my one night a week off, and I wasn't budging to accomodate a holiday that I don't even care for. Each time someone in their class asked where we would be trick-or-treating tonight, I gingerly brought my index finger to my lips, shushing away the subject. What is trick-or-treating?

Dumb Thumb

About 10 years ago, I broke my thumb while skiing in Brianhead, Utah. I wish it was a colorful story, like I was skiing down a triple black diamond during a blizzard and merely escaped slamming into a tree, saving my life at the expense of my thumb. Reality is, it was the dumbest little fall, landing my thumb backwards in the cold snow. That is that. I had surgery to piece it back together, a few pins to hold it in place, and a neon pink cast that got me more attention than I ever wanted.

Little did I know that that "dumbest little fall" from 10+ years ago, would still haunt me today. For the past couple of weeks my thumb has been driving me crazy in pain. Although I never followed through with the physical therapy, and it has never bent correctly since the accident, it has never really bothered me like it has been recently. Today I paid attention to the movements that aggravated it, and I can see why my little thumb is not happy with me.

Let me count thy ways:

Combing and executing three pair of perfect piggy-tails. Wrapping a rubber band round and round tight enough to hold hair in place all day, would drive any thumb nuts.

Holding my beloved broom and sweeping up the crumbs from three meals plus two snacks. I think my crew has learned the art of spilling their meals on the floor so there is less to eat from their plate.

Snapping not one...

Not two...

Not three...

But four pictures before it is deemed acceptable.

Wrapping 36 foam curlers around 6 piggy-tails, all while fighting with a head that thrashes about from this way to that.

Frosting 24 cookies which the kids will take to preschool tomorrow, and frosting another 24 cookies for the father of those kids who complains that all the baked goods that come from our oven are always meant for someone else!

Folding enough clean laundry to clothe a small army.

Turning the pages in a wonderful novel that I am reading right now, The Mulberry Tree, by Jude Deveraux.

Never did I think that an appendage such as the thumb could be so useful in life. I guess I should have appreciated it more while it was in good working order.

I must retire this post at this time, as the tinkering at the keyboard is bothering my dumb thumb!

Perfect Disguise

Tonight my four children were in perfect disguise--dressed as the clowns that they are. They attended a costume birthday party and had a great time. All of the elements of a wonderful party were accounted for:

A hot dog machine + A popcorn popper + A cotton candy machine + Unlimited rootbeer floats. (My crews first real taste of soda pop. Only Isaac wanted seconds!) + Bowls of candy corn at every turn + A bucket of Red Vine Licorice + Goodie bags being filled with every game + Yummy cake + Fun halloween decorations + Hip shaking music = FOUR EXHAUSTED CLOWNS WITH UPSET TUMMIES!!!

Eating War

If the authorities weren't so busy with what is going on around our county right now, it is my firm belief that they would have knocked at my door this evening, inquiring about the screams and hollers coming from the area of our dinner table. Tonight, we had World War Four take place inside our home.

The reason: baked chicken with mozzarella cheese and Corn Bread Souffle.

Night after night I make dinner for my kids, only to throw it down the sink 45 minutes later. Tonight, I decided, was time to change that. Dinner was going to be completed by four children- and-that-was-that. Hence, World War Four.

It was decided that anyone who didn't finish their dinner by the time the rest of us were done, would sit at the table...downstairs...ALONE...until it was finished. Seemed like an easy enough persuasion to get them to eat, considering being alone is not their forte. Boy, was I wrong.

Bella finished her dinner with little excitement, while three other children sat at that table...FOR TWO HOURS, screaming, whining, wriggling, complaining, PUKING, requesting bathroom breaks.... One would think that I was forcing them to eat liver and onions. Remember, they were only asked to eat about 4 bites of baked chicken with mozzarella cheese and a square of corn bread measuring about 1 square inch. Did I mention that I even made from scratch, cookie bars smothered in melted chocolate chips as an enticement to finish their dinner?

After emptying her stomach from the half-gallon of milk she drank trying to drown out each bite of chicken taste, Angel recovered and finished her dinner. Isaac and Annie will enjoy the rest of their dinner for breakfast tomorrow morning, as we ran out of time for them to finish tonight. I didn't think it was appropriate to leave two young children alone downstairs, while their parents caught z's upstairs.

Needless to say in the past two hours, I learned a couple of important facts. The first one being, my Hoover Elite vacuum is not only good for keeping my carpet clean, making those lines in the carpet that satisfy my OCD, but it is a wonderful way to drown out the shrieks of tormented children being asked to eat baked chicken and corn bread souffle.

The second fact that this lovely ordeal has shown me, is that I am free from my need to eat under stress! The old me would have relieved my anger by swallowing the pan of cookie bars dowsed in melted chocolate chips--WHOLE! Tonight, one cookie bar dowsed in melted chocolate chips did the trick. Which is probably a good thing...Most likely I will need the rest of the pan tomorrow when Isaac and Annie realize that they haven't seen the end of the baked chicken and corn bread souffle.

I'm off to bed to rest up for a continuation of our war---at the breakfast table!

All That I Need

If I have learned anything over the past couple of days, it is, most of the things in my home, I could surely live without. For the past 7+ years that Mark and I have owned a home, I have been collecting furniture and nick-knacks that I just knew I needed. Floral arrangements on this table, candle holders with candles on another. Artwork hung just right on one wall, and a collage of pictures on another.

I love my comfortable king-sized bed and fluffy down pillow.

I love my ceiling fan blowing cool night air over my head as I sleep.

I love Isaac's boyish, red-walled room, baring his name over three giant-sized stars.

I love Angel and Bella's two-toned, pink and green room that has their names daintily hanging from frilly bows above each bed.

I'm at peace in Annie's purple room with a white ric-rac border painted smack-dab in the middle of all four walls.

I wouldn't live anywhere else than my home that has been decorated and doted on to accommodate my family and our personalities.

But in the grand scheme of things, when asked to leave my home due to a possible fire threat, there isn't anything more I would take than my family. All of the above are mere luxuries that I am blessed and fortunate to have. All of the above could be easily replaced with the right amount of money.

Not a penny in the world could replace Angel's sweet-spirited, friendly, smiling face.

Not a penny in the world could replace Isaac's calm attitude and gentle spirit.

No amount of money could replace Bella's feisty, yet humorous personality.

And nothing in the world could replace the joy that Annie brings to each of us every day.

Mission Legoland--Completed

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I despise my regular visits to the dentist office. I haven't returned since last year when I went for a root canal-- as if a regular-'ol root canal wasn't bad enough, my dang tooth had an extra root, and it took two visits to complete it....two sets of novicane shots in the most painful part of the mouth (on the upper palate, right behind the front teeth), 2 hours of sitting there with my mouth wide open, 2 hours of the nervous sweats!

I begin with the story of my mouth because it relates to how I've felt for the past four years about taking my crew to an amusement park. Yes indeed, the thought of taking four children to Disneyland or Legoland, until today, gave me the same nervous sweats as my trips to the dentist office. It was my belief that the work of tracking four kids through an amusement park much outweighed the enjoyment we would receive. And worse yet, why would we want to spend our life savings on an outing that would be sure to fail?

A sweet friend of mine offered us four free tickets to Legoland, and we gladly accepted. It was an offer I couldn't refuse and I figured it was time to take the plunge. It bothered me to know that my four kids were the only four kids in San Diego that hadn't been taken to an amusement park!

I'm pleased to announce our trip was a success. The kids loved the roller coasters and all of the fun sights to see.

Mission Legoland--Completed.

Mission Disneyland--maybe in a couple of years!

Laws of Kamahi

I know that many of you have heard of the following laws:

Laws of Thermodynamics
Law of Evolving Systems
Murphy's Law

The list could go on and on.

Today, while trying to deal with four children, all while being knocked out by a miserable ocular migraine, I realized that I could list many laws that prevail in my house.

When A or B happen, C is bound to follow closely behind.

Humor me, and read on. Many of these same laws may also prevail in your household! In fact, I'm sure most of them do...

1. The moment I get on the phone, something tragic happens, demanding my attention.
2. My kids are "starving," until the moment I put their food in front of them, they have a "horrible" stomach ache. (Unless of course the meal is grilled cheese, quesadilla, or deviled eggs)
3. Three to five days after visiting a public place, a major cold epidemic breaks out in our home.
4. The day my husband leaves town for business, a major cold epidemic breaks out in our home.
5. If I plan a playdate with my friends too far in advance, a major cold epidemic breaks out in our home, THE DAY BEFORE the scheduled playdate!
6. If I pour the kids milk in a regular cup and they are eating outside, no spills take place. If I pour them a glass of milk in a regular cup and they are eating inside, it ends up all over the floor, the wall, and whatever child is in the vicinity.
7. When I am sitting on the floor, involved in whatever activity with the kids, peace abounds on all sides. The moment I step away, a war breaks out.
8. If I am relaxing on the floor, in less than 3 minutes, I am at the bottom of a 4-child dog-pile.
9. When I am most tired, and in need of a good-nights sleep, one, two, three, or maybe even four children will wake up "needing me."
10. If my children don't wake up "needing me," then inevitably my husband will!

I could write a 500-page book merely listing the "laws" that prevail in my home.

I need to be sure to add the most infamous law around....

When Mommy ain't happy, there ain't nobody happy!

Field Trip Paparazzi

If one were to drive through the bus circle at BV Elementary School last Thursday, they would surely believe that either Brittany Spears or Paris Hilton...or both, were boarding the big, yellow, school bus. That would have to explain why 40 women were feverishly snapping photos, aimed at the doors of the bus.


But, there is an alternative explanation. Last Thursday marked the very first field trip for all of our preschoolers. More importantly, it marked the very first ride on a big, yellow, school bus. In fact, I think the school bus ride was much more exciting to our preschoolers than the fact that they were visiting a local pumpkin patch with horse rides, a hay ride, and a giant slide.





What could be better than riding from point A to point B WITHOUT a car seat?


All had a great time as evidenced by four sets of dusty clothes, eight dirty feet, four heads of tousled hair, two with croup, one with an asthma attack, and an insatiable appetite to take a nap! My crew was so exhausted by the end, I was given the honorable duty of "pumpkin holding!"

Candy Parade

Saturday we went to the Alpine parade and all of the elements of a festive parade were covered.

Horses and riders. Check! Highschool bands and flag teams. Check! Fire trucks and firehouse mascots. Check! Beauty queens and princesses riding on the trunks of fancy model cars. Check!

Streets lined with onlookers, young and old. Check!

My kids accounted for 4 of the onlookers, yet they weren't quite excited by the same thing that the other onlookers were excited by. My 4 would most likely fail, if given a test on which participants were involved in the parade.

Because my four were much more excited and amused by the handfuls of candy that were being thrown their way. These handfuls of hard candy were being thrown at such speed, it was like shrapnel being spit from a high powered gun. I was honestly concerned that if a piece happened to hit them in the head, it would be so deeply lodged, that it would need to be surgically removed by a specialist.

Luckily, no one was pelted with hard candy, so need to visit the emergency room.

The only place we'll be heading....to the dentist's office to have cavities filled!

Book Worm

As a lover of books, and a former educator, I am thrilled that my son is so in love with reading. He loves books like I love chocolate.

Isaac's book collection is quite an extensive one. He is not discriminatory in his subjects of interest. One can find books about anything from Apple picking to Zoo animals. Until recently, the collection of books was stored in the cupboards in my laundry room. Because I am a newly determined stain conqueror, my collection of stain removers is growing faster than Isaac's book collection, therefore the book collection needed a new home.

No big deal. I've been wanting a book shelf to put in Isaacs room for more than two years now. I've wanted Isaac to be able to choose books at his leisure. To read as a hobby. To grow into an intellect because of his love of reading.

The thought is a great one, but it has led to a small problem. The time Isaac is choosing to read is the time Isaac should be choosing to nap!

My little book worm is hiding books under his pillow, pulling them out only after I have tucked him in and kissed him good-night. Guess I better find the books that are teaching him to be mischievous and remove them from his collection!

Curly Girlie's

As any mother does before the birth of her children, she prays for their heatlth. She prays for a healthy baby with 10 fingers and 10 toes. She prays for a baby with 2 eyes, a nose, and a mouth positioned exactly where they should be on a sweet baby face. She prays for ears that hear and a voice that resonates sound.

Like any mother, I too, prayed for all of these things and thankfully, my prayers were answered. There was only one wish I had that was not completely fulfilled....

I hoped that I would have at least one girl with Shirley Temple curls. The kind that spring back into place after being pulled taught. The kind that bounce up and down like a yo-yo in play. The kind that are impossible to brush out without tears unless a leave-in conditioner has been applied. The kind that all girls complain about when they get into grade school because they want stick-straight hair like all of their friends.

Nope...not one of my three girls were genetically wired to have Shirley Temple curls. Until recently, I thought my dream of curls would be impossible. Because chances of having a fourth girl with curls when I already have three without, seems very slim. AND...the chances of having anymore children at all--is ZERO!!!

I recently remembered that my mom used to put "pink curlers," as I called them, in my hair as a little girl, because I too, wasn't genetically wired to have Shirley Temple curls. I would sleep on about 10-20 lumps all night, and wake up with beautiful, bouncing curls.

And so, I have passed this onto my girls.

Let me introduce you to my Shirley Temple Curlie Girlie's.

Then and Now

If you were to ask me 10 years ago what my life would be like in the near future, I would have a very precise answer. I would marry the love of my life, Mark, finish my college degree, become an elementary school teacher, and most importantly, become a mother. A mother of two, maybe, three. But that would be sufficient.

Never did I believe, that at the age of 29, I would be morphed into something that resembled a pregnant cow. Four years, one week, and one day ago, I was waddling from room to room like a lame duck. I ate, drank, and lived laying flat. And I did all of this to protect my triplets from the outside world, as long as was humanly possible.

Four years, one week, and one day ago, my life was changed FOREVER! My three beautiful babies entered the world, screaming and kicking, much like they do today!

Angelica Rose, Isaac Christopher, and Isabella Jo Kamahi, entered the world on September 25, 2003. A day that marks the end of my sanity, the end of my peacefulness, yet the beginning of a lifetime of joy and love.

I have traded my long hours of sleep at night, for short, sporadic sleep hours.

I have traded peaceful, calming music, for screams of delight and screams of impatience.

I have traded a neat and tidy home, for a chaotic home with toys strewn from one end to the other.

I have traded dinners out with my husband, for dinners in with the messiest eaters on this green earth!

I have made many trades in the past 4 years, but none that I will ever regret.

Nothing I have traded ever gave me the joy and sense of accomplishment that I have experienced being a mother. Nothing compares to hearing four little voices declare their love for me. Nothing compares to the hugs that 8 little arms can give. Nothing compares to hearing little conversations between sisters and a brother.

Nothing compares to the reward of being called "Mommy."

Little Ears Are Always Listening

Today while driving down the freeway, Bella and Annie in tow, I became frustrated at another driver. I know it's been awhile since I took my driving test to get my driver's license, but I don't think the laws have changed that much.

The far left lane is a passing lane. Am I not right?

Why on earth then, was a lady driving a blue Toyota Corolla cruising along in the fast lane at a snails pace of 60 miles an hour? Or it may have been 65, but I was going a bit quicker, and I wanted to pass her....in the passing lane.

Finally realizing her mistake, she politely pulled over to the next lane like a conscientious driver should. As I passed her, she gave me a look that could kill. Amazing...she's in the wrong and she looks at me as if I'm the problem.

"Idiot driver," I mumbled under my breath so as not to allow the four little ears in the back seat to hear.

It wasn't until later that I realized that little ears are very good at hearing...when they choose too!

Driving down Fletcher Parkway, I guess I took a turn too quickly, for out of the back seat I hear in a quiet yet convicting voice, "Mom, I guess you're an idiot driver too. I guess you like to be an idiot driver."

I was caught....by a four year old.

Yet I couldn't help but think, if she thinks I'm an idiot driver, what on earth does she consider her father!!!

A House Isn't A Home

Yesterday at church, my pastor made a very profound statement that hasn't left my mind since the moment he uttered the words...

"A house isn't a home. A home is created by it's ambiance."

My husband always accuses me of wanting our house to be too perfect. Perfect in the sense that I like things in the proper places at the proper times. I like each and every toy to be put in the bin that I have spent my own time labeling! I like the tables dusted and the laundry folded just right. I like the beds to look like they were made by a soldier at boot camp--you know, the kind that would bounce a quarter off if it were tested by the seargent.

I felt completely convicted by the previous statement that was made by my pastor. It was months ago that I came to the realization that I spend more time worrying about how my house looks, than worrying about sitting down and spending quality time with my precious children. I reply , "Later," to the kids when I should reply, "Later," to my housework.

So while I indeed felt convicted by the statement, I realized that if a home is created by it's ambiance, my home should be pictured in Webster's dictionary under the defintion of a home. It certainly doesn't lack ambiance. I could make a list a mile long of the aspects of my home that create it's ambiance. I will share just a few...

A noise level that rarely drops below 100 on the sound scale.
Walls that bare the faces of my beauties.
Walls that bare the dirty handprints of my beauties.
Walls that bare the food my beauties ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Snack, too!
Dirty clothes that are scattered about the house.
A laundry room that is piled high with not only clothes to be washed, but more to be put away!
Toys in the guest room.
Toys in the living room.
Toys in the girls' rooms.
Toys in Isaacs room.
Toys in MY room!
Toys in the bathroom!
Little shoes all over the floor in the dining room that have missed the shoe bin.
A missing rung on the stair case that Isaac tried to lasso, not once, but twice.
A sliding screen door that barely holds the screening in place anymore.
A hole in the wall behind my bedroom door that I made--better to hit the wall than the husband! True?

My house is certainly a home. From yesterday on, I've agreed to no longer look at the chaos in my home as "messes." I will look at them as the wonderful details that add ambiance to my home.