Kid Quirks: Dirty Old Men and Pwetty Dwesses

Kid quirks seem to be as unique as DNA. Hubs and I busted many a gut over the Hot Tamales pre-verbal gargle. It was a hyper-fast hybrid of Mandarin and Urdu with complicated tongue rolls and authentic inflection. We Craig's List-searched in vain for a translator and never could locate someone qualified enough to interpret. SkippyDon is a different story at her googley-gargle age.

He belts out laughter, dirty-old-man style. All he needs is a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

SkippyDon inherited his daddy's bass octaves with a raspy twang. It's delicious and adds to the overabundance of charm he already unabashedly flaunts. It starts when he cracks himself up (usually at the start of a heated peekaboo game) and grows into a full Wizard of Oz Lion guffaw. Get him going in a public place and watch the women and children either flee from that surely-sinister sound or shower him with kisses. Apparently SkippyDon's Sunday school was a blast last week. It's embarrassing and perfect all at once. Baby Huey better watch his back.

As deliciously peculiar and seasoned as his laugh is, Hot Tamale's fashion sense rivals a close second.

Only "pwetty dwesses, Mommy" with a scolding don't-even-try-the-shorts-and-t-shirt-today glare. Before Grimaldo Garage Sale Extravaganza I sheared every last pant, short and "regular" shirt from the closet. She now has only dwesses, tights and fashionably acceptable shoes. And she's also taken the reigns as my personal clothing assistant. Pretty hearts are more important to Jesus than pretty clothes, my broken record repeats.

I've even surrendered the "give the kid two options from which to choose Love and Logic approach". Just let her pick it out and forgo a morning battle. She does a better job than I do anyway.

Among some of my other favorite Hot Tamale quirks:

• The order of bedtime. She's a total Nazi about it. "Weave cwoset wight on, wead two stowies, sing a song and pway, Mommy." Go out of order or omit at your own peril.
• Climbing in the car on SkippyDon's side.
• Watching the Leap Frog Karaoke videos about Meg, Og, Izzy, Gus, and Al. If I ever attempt suicide, full blame rests with Leap Frog. I don't give a fiddler's toot about her learning to read if I have to endure another video.
• Singing at the tip top of her lungs during library story time. Hot Tamale is a natural ABC diva.
• Her wickedly awesome awareness of every object in the house. I never need to look for my keys again, girl already knows where they are.

The singularity of a fingerprint seems so boring compared to these unique traits. I'll end with an apt quote by the infamous Dr. Seuss:

"Today you are YOU, that is truer than true.

There is no one alive who is YOU-er than you."

Round Three! Ding ding!

Oh yes, yes! This is not the result of dark chocolate indulgence. Unless chocolate can sprout appendages and a heartbeat...more likely, this is Baby 3G--the newest download on the block! Babies are just super fun to make. That (mainly) and the fact that we want to put people on the planet that we like leaves us with only one glorious pooping-crying-smiling-tantrum throwing option. Three cherubs under three-years-old.

The Hot Tamale is absolutely thrilled. "Baby's gotta cook. Not induh oven!" she'll tell you in two shakes of a Pug tail. SkippyDon Juan is just looking for the next meal, so he's not quite as impressed. This new little one appears to be growing steadily and wreaked plenty of havoc on my hormones during the first tri to let me know she's present and nearly accounted for. I'm pretty sure she's a she too.

We've had an interesting reversal during the last few weeks. Our Hot Tamales, spicy though she still is, has become such a lover. My favorite phrases from her just this week:

• Daddy, thank you for pwoviding for us.
• Aaron needs to go to his room to calm down.
• Mommy, how's your day?
• Need anyfing else? (after fetching toilet paper for me)
• Mommy, I need to wear a pwetty dwess. Please, Mama? Wif pink tights and shoes?

She's not your kid, so you probably don't care or see just how magical it is for tiny tots to develop a voice. If you knew just how special this was, you'd zoom over here with a camcorder right now. I'm so in awe that I'm going to slap a "My kid can talk" bumper sticker on the Yukon.

While she's becoming quite the hostess, SkippyDon Juan has started to throw epic tantrums. Oscar-worthy, hilarious and hideous blow-outs. Here's how you can have one too:

1. Start bouncing up and down rapidly while whining in a crescendo.
2. Drop to the knees with a loud shout.
3. Fall face down in an all-out cry.
4. Bang head on ground a.) in hard repetitive motions on a carpeted surface; or b.) just once very lightly on tile, making sure onlookers see you do it.
5. Roll over on back to observe reaction.
6. Repeat steps 3-5 as needed.

Don't even fall for those big brown peepers. He's stellar and I'm hiring him as head instructor for the next class of toddler enrollees. Just $289 for an entire semester.

SkippyDon is still a joyous little love (and enjoys the heck out of his new sport Sister Tackling) but his second year of life has been quite a test so far. My sweet guy: the car seat is not demon-possessed. Please embrace the buckle and enjoy the ride. He'll really appreciate having somebody younger to vent with, or on, or both.

Until August, it will still be the four of us, learning our letter sounds and how to sing the entire Wicked album.

Having 19 Kids would be Awesome! If...

Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar have 19 biological children.

How in the crap does she do that??? Oh, and she homeschools. OH, and the family, um kids and parents, built their 7,000 square foot home. What the crap?

I did some digging around on these Duggars. No, I didn't just watch one episode of their TLC show 19 Kids and Counting. I've seen about 15 episodes and read their book. Here's what idiots who like to spew without facts say about them and how I'd respond based on my (voyeuristic) observations:

1. Don't they know about birth control?

Yes, they do. Michelle took birth control early in their marriage when they thought they'd have 2 or 3 kids. But she miscarried after having her first son and realized the birth control she was taking contributed to that. That would be enough for me to change my mind. Birth control is a booger! Ladies, you know how annoying it is to remember to take the pill. Plus those nasty brown spots on your skin pop up. And dishing out $40 a month for that trash? I'd rather make babies too. In fact, I am!

2. They need to stop contributing to overpopulation.

I taught public school. Anyone who's been to a mall in the last month would agree that a little abstinence from people who don't love their Creator wouldn't hurt. An overpopulation of greedy, self-centered brats does nothing to honor God. I'd prefer folks who collect babies like Webkinz, whether they make 2 or 19, to please stop. But watch a Duggar episode and you'll see these kids are respectful, put others before themselves, and put God before it all. Mom isn't yelling at her children, Dad kisses her when he comes home, and they have devotionals every night. Oh the scandal! Mamma Duggar, please have 10 more!

3. It's not fair that the older kids have to take care of the younger ones.

I don't think it's fair you let your kid get addicted to video games. Or be a family moocher. Or graduate with nothing more than useless, forgotten book facts. 51% of high school seniors flunked a basic personal finance exam. The average college graduate is a complete idiot with zero real experience. The Duggars learn about construction (they built their paid-for "mansion" together over 3 years), child care, education, nursing, restaurant management, budgeting, and most importantly the Word of God. Way to go for encouraging your kids to contribute more than disobedient back-talk to the family!

4. They are a burden on society.

While everyone else stupidly "bought" a sick amount of house with no money and then cursed the bank when THEY couldn't make their increased ARM, the Duggars pay cash for everything. Cars, businesses, land, and HOUSES. And no, their parents aren't wealthy. They made huge sacrifices early on to accept having children without knowing if they would have enough space or money to take care of them. They lived in a 2-bedroom house with six children. Then, when they had enough cash saved they bought (outright!) their second and third (the pre-fab mansion) houses. On one income! Michelle homeschools her children and doesn't take advantage of the public school system they generously fund with property taxes. Their children will, in turn, become responsible people who encourage others to do the same.

Kids are NOT burdens! Our culture treats them like collectibles or expendables, but Psalm 127:3 says Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

5. Girls wear long skirts and have weird long hair.

And your kids wear black and get piercings. Modest skirts! Shirts that don't show 2 inches of boob! Call the authorities!!! I think this is an individual family decision. While I don't look like they do, if they're convicted to dress the way they do and it honors God, awesome!

6. Those people need to stop breeding like rabbits.

You need to carefully look at each of those children before you compare them to rabbits. They are children of a God who knew them by name and tell you how many hairs are on each of their heads, way more valuable than animals. According to the Duggars, they didn't start their married life intending to populate a school room. It was a decision they made to take how ever many children God brought to them...by enjoying the heck out of each other physically! How is your bedroom life? And the phrase "in God's time" when it refers to babies is ridiculous when birth control is involved. If you're convinced that it's truly "in God's time" doesn't birth control completely negate that? I'm not commanding you to go commando, but at least admit that you're taking matters into your own hands.

7. They had to do a reality show just to pay for the kids.

This is just ill-informed drivel. The only contributions TLC made to the house was hiring a designer to pick colors for their house and helping out with landscaping. Everything else was paid by them.

8. With 19 kids, how would you ever get to know them.

Since Michelle homeschools, she's with her children most of every day. Consider that your children go to a randomly chosen school, sit in rooms with 30 random kids, and get taught by a stranger who may or may not like his job and subject. Then your kids do hours of homework before falling into bed. You get the worst piece of your children while complete strangers teach them things you may not agree in a room full of THIRTY influential (for the best or worst) other peers.

My hope is that this family would challenge us to really think about our notion that 2.5 children is more than enough. That if God truly blesses people with children, then our conception of what children actually "need" is far off the mark than what they really deserve. Please pray about this. I know I am.

New Beginnings

If I'm in a room of kids and adults, I'll always end up with the kids. The reason being: kids are accepting, quick to forgive, and quick to love. They don't judge my shirt stains or whisper that I've put on a few pounds.

This is why when we bear children, there's this exciting part of us that feels we have a second chance. These new beings know absolutely nothing about us. They don't know the stupid stuff we did in college or that we cussed out our parents. We take great pains to create a new version of ourselves for them. Mom knows how we gossiped with the best of them in junior high, but these tiny folks don't.

Don't believe me? People who guzzle gallons of Coke insist their Precious only have water or milk. Great, sailor-worthy swearers take a bar of Dial to their mouths around Junior. Having kids is the only time we truly get a clean slate. A potential do-over to avoid screwing them up like our parents did to us.

Aside from knowing Christ.

It's beyond difficult to understand that God sees his son when he looks at me. He knows I seek comfort in food, worry about stuff that doesn't matter, and waste time he's given to me--but accepts me because I ask him to be my friend. He knows all the ugly stuff, that nobody else could imagine about me, and still pursues my heart. A twisted part of me wants my kids to love me like that without knowing my past, but with half a brain they'll see through the facade after a few short years. They accept me in a passionate, I-don't-give-a-rip-what-others-think-of-me way.

I'm learning from the way they adore me to love God.

I do get a new beginning, but I can't look to my kids for that. Only God issues do-overs.

Attack of the Drone

If you've ever been a teacher or parent (or a dude in front of a football game) you have surrendered to the dreaded automaton voice aka Drone Speech.

I've noticed it creeping up the last two weeks since the Hot Tamale is really pushing the behavior envelope. When I used to work in prison, er public school, ten seconds into Drone Speech would completely unravel classroom discipline. In the family arena, the voice materializes around 4:30 when tempers, dinner, and thinning patience converge. Drone speech invades everyone at one point or another, sometimes in the form of nagging, but not all nagging is automated. I nag vigorously with flare most of the time.

Some people don't even know they have this capability for Drone Speech! Others use it EXCLUSIVELY!!! (And annoy the watchuzis out of the rest of us!!)

How do you know when you're infected with it??

1. Your voice sounds about a half octave higher.

2. You use the words "ok" and "ready" way too much.

3. The children or folks being addressed are completely oblivious to the words coming out of your mouth.

4. You move very quickly and find it hard to focus your eyes.

5. M-o-n-o-t-o-n-e.

We're (God and I) working on identifying when I start to talk like one of those pull-string toys and zipping it shut before it annoys people, namely Hubs and the HT. SkippyDon would heart me even if talked through a creepy voice modulator--he's no yardstick for my parenting success.

Maybe it's as close to an out-of-body experience as we can get, this Drone Speech, because when it turns on I feel about a second behind the present. Deliberate, intentionally chosen, seasoned speech is 80% of discipline. Shoot, it's 80% of relationships! I must slow down, stop to think, and forget pushing my agenda when the Hot Tamale starts to freak out or it gets as nasty as day-old fries.

SLOW DOWN. Breathe. Pray. And focus. The other stuff can wait.

FREEEEEEEEDOM!!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, service men for making it possible for us!

We take it for granted every day.

Happy 4th everybody!

My Apologies to the Elderly

Wheelchair users, blue hair lovers, and nursing home gangs beware! The Hot Tamale WILL freak out fifty yards away from you!

Naughty Grandma is doing a bang up job when she watches the kiddies every Wednesday and Thursday morning. She straps them in a stroller and wheels them a couple blocks down to a retirement community to expand their horizons. Visions of sweet little ones crafting God's Eyes and lovingly gifting them to the infirm and lonely brings a lump of choked-up-ness to my throat.

Hooray for soul beauty!

Our spicy munchkin has other plans for these hearing impaired folks. Mom pushes them up to a man who's fishing in the community catch-and-release. "Say hi, sweetie." Terror! Sheer horror! Gnashing, clawing, get-me-outta-here-or-he'll-kill-me-with-his-freeze-ray looks (or so the Naughty Gma says).

The Fish Man makes it worse, poor thing. "Well hi there little fella!" (Talking to her but clearly not noticing the long hair and pink shirt.) Claps three times right in her face. Oh no. Not good. More terror-filled agony. So the elderly gentleman leans closer in. "Whatsa matter?" Even more yelling! "Can I showya howda fish?" By this time any aquatic dweller within five miles has found a hiding spot well beyond diving range.

This charade continues on for a few minutes until the Naughty gives some lame excuse about lunch.

Fast forward to this weekend--our visit with the Great Grandfolks. My Hot Tamale did her best to make her Great Grandfather feel like a two-headed, tarred and feathered leper. At least he didn't realize it was him she was fearing. She sprinted away from him at every sighting shouting, "No? no? no?!?" By the end of two days she barely mustered a bye-bye wave.

What is it with kids and older people? Why do they freak out?!? Maybe it's the way they tend to invade space, or their smell, or the slow way they talk. Maybe kids act the way some of us feel when WE visit with the elderly. My dear HT, we both need some work here. We'll get comfortable around older folks, I promise! After all, we'll be walking in their shoes before we know it!