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Children Leak

The process of making a child is messy. It involves fluids and cleanup. The process of birthing a child is anything but tidy. It should be no surprise that children, who begin in mess, continue in mess. But, the little ones are so adorable. Their cuteness overflows even as they make that first itty bitty poop. You coo and awe at the babe’s first tiny pitch black blob on its buttocks. Then the frustration begins because instead of simply falling off into the diaper you have to pull out the industrial cleaners and heavy duty chemicals to remove this two square centimeter blob of tar on your baby’s butt. This really should serve as a warning as to what is to come.

People without children have different views on bodily fluids. Their lives are sanitary. Their houses adorn with glass and sharp edges. I know. I was once a person without children. Pre-children, bodily fluids are something that should be private. Even drunks are expected to neatly pray to the porcelain god and clean up their own mess. A parent has a different stature. When a child glazes over, the parent will smoothly rise to the occasion and sprint to the child only to cup their hands in front of the child’s face as an unnatural sea of split pea soup flows from the child’s mouth with the parent never stuttering, stammering or losing a beat in their conversation. The friend simply pauses to ask, "Can I get you a priest?"

Nosebleed aftermath

This morning I groggily enter the bathroom, dazedly flip the light, and as I stand there in the middle of a necessary morning ritual I glance at the sink to realize that either:

  1. somebody performed surgery in our bathroom last night
  2. we need to call the Ghostbusters because something evil is bubbling out of our sink
  3. Jack Nicholson is in the house
  4. Noah had a nose bleed

Most people think of nose bleeds as these things kids get on the soccer field. A few drops of blood drip from the hose, the child panics, and the mother frets over getting the stain out of the white uniform. When Noah has a nose bleed we consider calling the blood bank for either a deposit or withdrawal. He had one of these once in the CVS drugstore parking lot and cars were pulling over to ask if we needed an ambulance! Granted, once or twice we have taken him to the emergency room because the bleed was so bad. Clots will erupt from his nose that are so large you think a piece of brain fell out.

Panic? No. I shake it off. I simply prepare myself for the bloody hand prints on the wall. The stains on the floor. The pools in the bedsheets. Turns out Noah did well! Only one minor drop on the sheets. Nothing on his clothes. He actually made it to the bathroom and mostly contained the blood to the sink! For the record, he has had the cauterization and his nose bleeds are far less frequent. But when the weather changes dramatically, and the moon is full, I can guarantee there will be blood in this house.

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I sing the body recess

This morning Noah explained told me he wondered if the school would have another chorus separate from the 5th grade chorus. I proceeded to ask if he liked singing and so forth and what came out was "I am not in fifth grade chorus because they practice during recess [the Friday recess] and we only get like two or three recesses a week." Sigh. He has to walk his own path and make his own choices.

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From the mouths of babes

Dad: "Noah. I want you to close the bathroom door all the way [so that Evan can’t get in] then brush your teeth."
Noah: proceeds to start brushing his teeth.
Dad: "Noah, what did I say?"
Noah: "Close the door then brush my teeth."
Noah: Proceeds to start to brush teeth.
Dad: "What are you doing?!"
Noah: "Oh! Close the door."
Noah: Pushes door almost shut.
Dad: Pushes door open with finger.
Dad:"All the way!"

I live with the Marx Brothers.

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They are more important

I am so stressed over my work that my head feels like it is going to crack. Noah wants to make blueberry muffins. I can’t argue with that. I love blueberry muffins. However, poor Noah needs guidance. Lots of guidance. He gets priority.

If you haven’t had a 10 year old boy yet, their brains don’t work.

The cooking lessons are fun. I enjoy watching him go through discovery. This morning I have had questions like:

"What’s a muffin pan?"
"Where’s our can opener? How do I use it?"
After getting the mixing bowl, "Where can I get a bowl to put in the ingredients?"

I had no doubt that one or two of the eggs would splat on the floor. One did. Learning to crack and egg is scary. I feel bad for him. He will have to go to school before these are done. This child moves in slow motion!

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From the mouths of babes

Noah, 15 minutes before he leaves for his school bus: "By the way, Dad, I need two composition books for TAG today."

Fortunately I use composition books for my project tracking. Unfortunately, I ran out of the $1.40 composition books and started using 15 cent notebooks instead.

Dad, as Noah walks out the door for his bus: "Noah, what are you carrying?"
Noah: "Oh yeah. Guess I don’t need this plate."
Noah returns pink plate with Tinkerbell picture to kitchen and walks out door with dry waffle in hand.

It is hard to be 10.

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Rattle snakes are real!

Rattle snake - not rubber

Pictures of a 13 year old’s recovery from a rattle snake bite (not lunch safe – gross) are circulating the Internet.

On July 21, 2002, just after my 13th birthday, I was bitten by a Western Diamondback rattlesnake. I was located on a trail in a hiking area near Yosemite National Park, California. The bite occurred when I was sitting on a small boulder at a distance of 4.5 miles from the trailhead with my cabin group at camp. I had my arms dangling at my side, and a 5 foot long rattlesnake bit me in the middle of my left palm.Source

I thought it fitting to post my family’s encounter with a rattler outside of Gatlinburg, TN. The snake sunning itself, the family as far back as the trail permitted studying the snake, Noah seems nervous, and ok, so all the kids look nervous.

As we visit the great outdoors, we have to remember, it is their home.

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Earth to Noah

Noah this morning poured his cereal in his bowl, opened the utinsil drawer for a spoon, poured his milk, closed the milk carton, and tried to put the milk carton into the utinsil drawer.

Yesteday the dogs were out when Noah came home. He opened the door and let the dogs in. Molly carried a ball that must remain outside. We call it the "stinky" ball. I said the stinky ball needed to go outside and Noah opened the door, stared at the tv, and was oblivious as the dogs stepped on his feet and ran out. When I asked, "what are you doing?" he swayed back and forth almost as if semi-conscious and closed the door. I mentioned the dogs he let Molly in and closed the dog on Crystal.

These types of absent-minded actions on Noah’s part have become increasingly bad. I feel it has slipped beyond "being 10." I do not yet know how to snap him out of it. I feel he has some enourmous stress or anxiety built up in him. I am sorry. At 10 years old you should feel no stress or anxiety. We are going to start by making his life as stress free as possible, do some juggling, and perhaps yoga. I would like to see an improved diet also.

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From the mouths of babes

While driving Noah to karate we notice a portion of Food City’s parking lot blocked off with what appears to be jumping balloons, tents, and a big cow and lots of orange.

Noah: "Dad, what do you think they are doing over there?"
Dad: "I don’t know but I see a jumping balloon, cute girls, and a big cow. Looks fun!"
Noah: "Don’t you have an affair Dad!"
Dad: "Noah, I would never have an affair. What makes you say such a thing?"
Noah: "You called them cute girls."
Dad: "Oh. Well I can notice they are cute or pretty without having an affair."
Noah: "Oh I see! You mean cute like little girl cute."
Dad: "Uh."

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Odd Ball Out in a Big Family

Target last night was quite the adventure. After leaving a stench in their bathroom we casually wrapped up our shopping by dividing and conquering. The bulk of the crew went for the remaining items and I headed to the pharmacy for their very cool prescription bottles. The crew joined me at the pharm and we played with the blood pressure test machine, laughed and shopped happily. At the checkouts, Cathy, Sarah, Amy, Evan and myself started the checkout process. Out of the blue, Noah appears behind us! "Uh. Were you going to leave without me?" Cathy replies, "yes!" We look at each other and laugh asking, "Did you know he was here?" to which we both replied, "I forgot."

There goes our shot at parents of the year! A big family teaches self-reliance and independence!

Update: Target provides 6 colors for their medicines which assumes you will never have a family larger than 7. The bottles could be improved for larger families by allowing more than one color ring per bottle or using some striped rings.

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Dear Target, sorry about the stink in the bathroom…

I love having a big family! Big families teach self-sufficiency and team work.

Last night in Target I heft Evan up on my shoulders as he giggles maliciously. Seconds later the smell hits me. That familiar smell of a runny diaper filled to capacity with sludge. Microseconds later he is off my shoulders and being held in that non-loving pose at the end of my outstretched arms using only my finger tips as if carrying hazardous waste all too aware that squeezing the diaper could make John Belushi’s zit seem tame.

I pass Noah playing demos in the video games. I speed past aisle after aisle knowing I could easily be walking right past Cathy and crew. Then I see a cute little Amy peek out. I alert Cathy that I must go to the car and she deftly produces "equipment" from her purse.

Wordlessly I grab the diaper and wipes and rush to the nearest restroom. One thing parenting has taught me is that stores abound with hidden restrooms. Some are singles; some are family; some are "employee only"; but if do not have children, these secret water closets are invisible to you! In Target, I was nearest the rear one located in toys. The men’s room is a single shooter graciously outfitted with a changing table with a broken safety belt. Not having the belt means one hand holds the baby, while another hand handles the wipes, another hand keeps the baby’s hands from helping, another hand removes the diaper, another hand guards the clothes from sliplage and overflow, two hands bag and seal the toxic waste, and two hands put the new diaper on the baby.

I plop Evan on the table and open the diaper. Huggies should be proud! Evan immediately goes for the flip and almost simultaneously throws in the helping hands. I am off to a bad start and recognizing I misjugded the diaper threat level I know I need reinforcements. Evan at this point is in full scream and sending a text message sos is out of the question. I dial Cathy’s number and put the phone down as I attempt to salvage the situation. Assuming I went to voicemail. I slap the phone shut, hit redial, and return to mud wrestling. Moments later, a 4 year old girl opens the men’s room door. Then a 13 year old girl opens it slight further. My reinforcements have arrived!

Suffice it to say that with Evan now outnumbered we won the battle with minimal damange. All hands, including Amy, pulled their weight. The 13 year old deserves a purple heart for casually stepping into the men’s room. From Cathy’s perspective, when the phone rang she could hear the baby screaming in stereo and knew to deploy the more mobile of reinforcements. Good choice on the special ops!