Creative Compliment

I'm still chuckling about the compliment my sweet daughter Angel paid me yesterday!

Standing at the sink doing dishes, she came up to me, and in the most sincere voice said, "Mom, you are so beautiful!"

While trying to express my thanks, she continued...

"You are even more beautiful than a pig!"

After giggling out a thank-you to her, she questioned the humor.

"What's so funny Mom? I didn't say you were AS beautiful AS a pig...I said you were MORE beautiful than a pig!"

My husband would have received a swift kick in the pants for this compliment, but my sweet Angel, she got a great big bear hug!!!

My Sensitive Gentleman

So today I was informed by a few women that I indeed, had a "sensitive gentleman" as my husband.

He brings me flowers out of the blue, you may be thinking.

He turns off the television in order to listen carefully and intently when I pour my heart out about what is bothering me, you may be thinking.

He suggests that I get out without children in order to recharge my batteries, you may be thinking.

He wakes up early to get the kids ready for school when I am blinded by an ocular migraine feeling under the weather, you may be thinking.

Or you may be thinking that he pops a load of laundry into the washing machine when he notices that the darks are tumbling from the laundry basket.

Your thinking is all wrong.

The women who informed me that I am married to a sensitive gentleman, were the sweet nurses that were taking care of my husband today at the surgical center where he had a hernia repaired.

The sensitivity that they were referring to was his sensitivity to anything relating to medical procedures. Little did they know, I was already aware of the fact that I hand-picked a sensitive gentleman.

I wasn't at all surprised to be summoned from the waiting room by the pre-op nurse, requesting that I help to calm my sensitive gentleman.

It wasn't anything I didn't expect, walking in to find him drained of any color and soaked with sweat from head to toe. Like oil and water, my sensitive gentleman and IV's, or any needles for that matter, simply do not mix.

Nor does he do well with just the thought of what the doctor is going to do to him...that's enough to erase the pigment from his skin and make him weak in the knees, as well.

I am truly married to a SENSITIVE GENTLEMAN!

One that I overheard explaining to his children the other day that his stomach was going to be stapled closed. (He has a one inch incision sealed together with Dermabond. Insert clip art of a cardboard induced paper cut and you get his wound.)

One that lay in bed behind closed doors, fifteen feet away from me, when my cell phone began ringing downstairs. By the time I got to it, it was done ringing, flashing a RESTRICTED NUMBER message. Upon returning to the computer, my phone began ringing again. Running just a bit faster down the stairs, risking life and limb, I got to it in time. If I didn't just get this cell phone, I would have chucked it out the kitchen window, for the voice on the other end was the voice of my sensitive gentleman, a mere fifteen feet away from where I had originally been sitting, requesting that I open the bedroom door to let the cat out! And because I know I would never find an alternate husband willing to take on my four children and myself, I refrained from throwing him out the second story window as well.

Before I head to bed to rest up for tomorrow's recovery and rehabilitation procedures, I'm going to google the relationship between hernia repair and decision-making. Seems there is some correlation...my sensitive gentleman has needed me to make every decision on what he should be putting in his stomach!

So we've got the whole sensitivity thing a bit mixed up and I tease him relentlessly about it...but my sensitive gentleman produces good-looking kids! I'll give him that!

You Can be Pretty Sure...

that a child was born into a Republican household when you can hear the following inquiries and comments.

While playing with his toys the other day, Isaac paused and questioned me after great thought, "Mom? Are flaming liberals the worst kind?"

I responded, "I don't know Isaac. Why do you ask?"

His reply. "Because Daddy said they were!"

And even before all of the recent political conversations buzzing about, Isaac brought out one of his flame shaped Lego pieces and cheerfully exclaimed, "Look Mom. I have found a flaming liberal!"


And the questions have been flooding in since the election of Barack Obama. While driving to school yesterday morning, Isaac had a concerned look on his face. I could tell he was contemplating an issue. Just as a I was about to ask him what it was he was thinking about, he questioned, "Mom? Is Obama going to steal money from us, too?"

And as if she was disgusted by the question, Annie replied, "No, Isaac! He doesn't even know where we live!"

It's nearly impossible to explain politics to a child!


But you can be pretty sure that a child is being raised in a household with parents who hold the traditional positions within the home when you hear a child exclaim the following:

Upon finishing his dinner, my husband rinsed his dish before putting it down in the sink. (Which even that task is unheard of, even after making that request for the past 10+ years!)

Angel happened to walk by and see Mark doing this. She fell under a spell of shock and commented, "Mom!!! Daddy is doing the dishes!!! I have NEVER seen a boy doing dishes before!!!"

I guess you could call my children Conservative, Republican, Un-Liberated Little Kids! And that's a title I'm completely at peace with!

Ten Things I Know...

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Annie

1. Your conception was more unbelievable than people claiming Elvis is still alive.

2. It seems that you believe your umbilical chord is still attached--you never stray further than arms distance away from me.

3. I'm pretty sure I've caught glimpses of wings on your back--You're my social butterfly who says, "Hi," to anyone you think may engage in conversation with you.

4. You've been given more freedom to roam your surroundings than your counterparts were ever given at your age.

5. You believe preschool is good enough for others, but you should be spared.

6. You have no need for your own bedroom--you prefer to room with me.

7. It has not yet occurred to you that you were not in utero at the same time as your siblings.

8. There are many times that I tune you out for the mere fact that you NEVER.STOP.TALKING unless you are asleep.

9. The rear view mirror in the car is cocked downward more than it is upward because you tell the best stories while driving and I love to watch your facial expressions.

10. You border on narcoleptic-finding no difficulty in drifting off to dreamland anywhere and everywhere!

You are my

Annie

And I love you so, so much!

Ten Things I know...

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Bella

1. You thrive on irritating others.

2. You've inherited your father's competitive spirit.

3. You succeed at everything you set out to do because you don't settle for less than perfect.4. Many would recognize you from the backside--the girl whose coin slot infamously hangs out just above her pants.5. Your quiet, reserved personality leads many to believe you are my shy girl--boy, is that wrong!

6. You would trade all your Barbie Dolls for art supplies if given the opportunity.

7. I can count on my 2 hands how many times you've slept through the night since we brought you home from the hospital.

8. Although you are far off from a "girlie-girl," you humor me and sit so still, allowing me to fiddle with your hair and play hairdresser.

9. You have amazing stamina when it comes to throwing temper tantrums. They've been known to last an hour or more!
10. You're Ms. In-Control-asserting unwelcomed authority over your siblings-usually resulting in an argument.

You are my Bella

And I love you up to the sky!

Ten Things I Know...

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Isaac

1. Your sweet nature is as refreshing as an ice cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer's day.

2. You could turn a pile of recyclables into some sort of creature if given 15 minutes alone with a recycling bin. 3. Something as simple as writing the number "1" could easily frustrate you.
4. It warms the cockles of your little heart to scare the daylights out of unsuspecting victims when you roar or growl gregariously.
5. At 5 years old, you've already perfected "the Look" that brings girls to their knees--at least it works for this girl!
6. A pile of colorful Legos could entertain you for an hour as long as you also have the direction booklet.
7. Just as quickly as you reach your boiling point, you cool off again.
8. You're a big fan of sleep-overs, offering yourself up as a house guest, regardless if you've received an invitation!
9. You are just as enthralled the 20th time you watch a Scooby Do episode as the first time you watched it.
10. You're Mr. Independent, feeling free to wander off in any direction you choose without requesting permission.

You're my Isaac-

And I love you to the moon and back!

Ten Things I Know...

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Angel

1. Your screams have the capability to shatter glass.
2. You are as protective as a new mommy of your brother and sisters.

3. I could dump you in the middle of 50 strangers, and within 5 minutes they'd be your lifelong friends.

4. You're eager to please.

5. Your ability to rationalize touchy situations is an ability we work on on a minute-by-minute basis.
6. Your ability to impress the boys, on the other hand, would lead one to believe that you've been "playing the field" for many years. 7. You could care less if the formation of your letters are correct or if your crayon marks stray outside the lines.
8. You give me daily glimpses into your teenage years when you spin around on one foot, flip your hair over your shoulder, and huff off, angry at a consequence I've handed out.

9. Just looking into those big, brown eyes that appear between blinks, is enough to relieve the stress you cause me!
10. You are generous with your professions of love for me and with your compliments on my mothering.

You are my Angel--

And I love you as BIG as the universe!

A Dilema of My Own

(Disclaimer--This post contains a politcal undertone that may be offensive to some parties. It is not my intent to upset or offend...just have fun!)

I never dreamed that I would live through a time when our country was experienceing such major dilemna's.

The stock market dropping by the hundreds on a daily basis.

A possible future president that has minimal experience and a value system as stinky as a half-empty milk sippy cup that has been misplaced under a bed for 2 weeks.

A large sector of the American people who want to bring down the family value system like a building being detonated from below.

Houses lost to repossession at a rate comparable to the wing-flutter-per-second of a hummingbird.

And the list goes on and on.

And while all of these dilemma's are happening in the world, I, too, am facing a dilemma of my own.

Not nearly as frightening as the dilemma that our country and its' inhabitants are experiencing, but a dilemma none-the-less.

You see, I am receiving love notes by the hundreds! I have some admirers that are quick to express their love in writing.

Don't fret. The dilemna is not that my husband is not aware. He is the recipient of an equal amount of love notes.

My dilemna is this...What on earth am I supposed to DO with all of these love notes?

Have you ever tried to throw something away with the words, "I love you" staring back at you, written across the paper in your child's 5-year-old handwriting? If you haven't, let me be the first to tell you, IT'S A DILEMNA.

"What an uncaring, cold individual you are, throwing away your children's love notes," is what you may be thinking at this moment in time. And I can identify with your concern, but please hear me out, mathematically speaking.

My husband and I happily receive at least 5 notes a day per child. Mutliply that by 2, since there are 2 of us, and you get 10 notes per day. Then multiply that by 4, because we have 4 children and you get 40 love notes in a day.

It doesn't sound ALL that bad until you multiply that by 365 days in a year and you get 14,600 love notes in a year. Now that my friends is substantial.

For more reasons than one.

Environmentalists would most likely tell you that our family should be putting forth more of an effort to perserve our forests, by cutting down on the love notes circulating our family. They would probably suggest a white board, or something along those lines. (Who am I kidding. They would probably be bothered that the fumes from the pens are permeating our ozone layer, thus destroying it.)

I'm actually really not that concerned with what the environmentalists are thinking. The Type-A in me is much more concerned about how to file and save the above mentioned love notes.

Do I file them alphabetically under each child's name?

Do I file them in a file under, "Love Notes?"

Do I buy a 456th plastic bin and print out a computer label with the words, "Love Notes from Kids," and a clip art of a little piece of paper that I downloaded from the internet?

Are you relating yet to my dilemna?

If I only I could get the main line to the inexperienced presidential candidate who seems to have an answer for everything. I'm sure he could come up with a solution to my dilemna.

And if he couldn't find the solution, I'm sure he could find someone to blame for my problem!

They're Much Too Young

I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be happening until at least junior high school. My just barely five year olds are much too young to be engaging in such conversation.

I must push the pause button...awareness and dialogue about the opposite sex is happening much to quickly in the Kamahi family! Especially for my Angel.
I'm convinced that she wakes up each morning much more excited about seeing the boys in her class than learning her ABC's. She concerns herself with her clothes and her hair, not to be stylish or comfortable, but rather to impress her boys. On more than one occasion, she has informed me that, "Mom, Joe (name changed for anonymity) is really going to love my outfit today. I think he'll like my hair, too!"


Just last week, after asking her what she learned in school that day, she replied straight-faced, "Mom...new report. Joe is not my boyfriend anymore, John is! There is nothing you can do about it." Those were the exact words that spilled from her mouth.



And what I wanted to do was wipe up those spilled words, wring them out over the sink, and turn on the garbage disposal. She's much to young to be having such thoughts! Even I wasn't that boy crazy when I was a child. For goodness sake, I was a one-boy-girl. At five years old in kindergarten, my heart belonged to Jeremy Buegey and only Jeremy Buegey. Why can't Angel choose one and stick with him? (IF she's gonna pick someone at all!)



Bella's complete lack of interest in the opposite sex is more proof that Angel stole all the hormones! Running around, playing, and instigating anyone who is willing to be instigated is much more up Bella's alley. She's even perfected the instigation of Angel's relationships by deliberately and precisely, pushing Angel in front of the boys that make her ga-ga!
While Isaac is all boy and prefers to be rough-housing somewhere with other boys, he still makes time to ogle at a girl. The same girl he has had eye's for since preschool--Little Miss Kathy. (name also changed for anonymity) On more than one occasion, I have heard the tune float up from the back seat of the car.
"Two little love birds, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the baby in the baby carriage."

He knows not what he is singing, for the word he spells would surely cause him to blush if he pronounced it.


I'm still holding out hope that because there are three the same age, they will keep each other in check. If they continue to tell-all at the rate they tell-all now, I will know every little detail in each of their lives...down to the time and consistency of their bowel movements!

Oops, I Did it Again!

It was going to be small this year. Ten kids at the most, fifteen if I was feeling ambitious! I said that after last years party if you'll remember back a year.

I don't know how it happens. Each year the party gets bigger rather than smaller.

I always realize this after it's too late.

I started to realize it was growing by leaps and bounds after recruiting my mom and sister-in-law to help decorate 35 clown ice cream cones.

Or was it after making and sending out 35 invitations!
I knew for sure it had grown when the guests started arriving, quickly filling every square inch of my backyard!

And when the passage-way through the back patio required a detour due to the large amount of birthday gifts, I knew the party had grown!!!

And when the living room began to look like this,

I nearly hyperventhilated!

I didn't have nearly enough bins to house all of the gifts. And some of the gifts were so large, a bin wouldn't be sufficient!

The gift stress wasn't even close to the stress that the Taco Man put me through! The man who was going to feed my guests and arrive at my house at 3:30 pm so my guests could start eating at 4:30pm...yah...that Taco Man....well he arrived over an hour late! Which delayed eating time from 4:30pm to after 5:15pm.

Does he not know that doing that to a mother who is plagued with a Type-A, In Control personality ranks right up there with having your fingernails removed one-by-one with a pair of pliers?

Oh yah...That's exactly how badly it hurt!

It was nothing that our Guest of Honor couldn't fix. Penelope the Clown came in and saved the day. Like a Night in Shining Armor trotting in on his horse, she swooped in in her mini-van and delighted the children with her magnificent face painting! The kids could have cared less that their tummies were growling!!!

Chaos, clutter, and confusion didn't hold anyone back from having a good time! Even I was still smiling at the end! A bit exhausted, but still smiling!

It's a really great thing that this whole birthday thing only happens once a year. It gives me a whole 365 days to recoup and decide to do it again the following year!