Most Smartest Mommy ITW (In The World) - kellimwheeler's Blog

Most Smartest Mommy ITW (In The World) - kellimwheeler's Blog - SacMomsClub.com http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler Tales from the Frontlines of Motherhood Tales from the Frontlines of Motherhood en-us Tootsie Roll Surprises and Coming Full Circle http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9495 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9495 I was up three times night before last, once to change his diaper. Last night he made it until 4:30 a.m. and I was grateful to get the extra sleep. I hope tonight we’ll be able to make it through the night, maybe sleeping in until 7 a.m. <o:p> </o:p> No, I didn’t suddenly become a mother to an infant. But I am Mommy to an increasingly incontinent geriatric dog. Translation: A yellow Lab, nearly 98 in dog years, who can barely walk anymore and has lost the feeling in his back end to know that he’s laying in his own poop or pee. <o:p> </o:p> They say infants and elderly end up requiring the same care and I’ve become living proof of that. We have come full circle in 14 years. <o:p> </o:p> But our family dog Kyber is my fuzzy baby and I won’t banish him to the outdoors or relegate him to the increasingly frigid garage just because it makes my life easier. He wouldn’t understand this abrupt change in his lifestyle and I believe it would be cruel to hang him out to dry just when he needs our special attention the most. <o:p> </o:p> These new set of challenges that comes with Kyber’s advanced age simply makes me pull out my A-Game, keeps me adaptable and leaves me feeling good about making this twilight time of his life comfortable and still worthy. <o:p> </o:p> In fact, our entire family has stepped up to the plate to keep our beloved Kybee, as the kids like to call him, from becoming a nuisance. <o:p> </o:p> Everyone is on high alert when Kyber is up and moving around to quickly open a door because he’s probably still trying to accomplish his training and instinct to potty outside. My son Logan helps feed Kyber all his pills – arthritis pills, pain pills, antibiotics, thyroid medicine – making sure they are well hidden in his food and not spit out. My daughter Whitney takes Kyber for his slow and very brief walks to encourage regularity and isn’t afraid to pick up the deposits that go with it. Hubby does the evening walk in the dark to get Kyber to empty his tanks to make my night shift easier. But I think he also enjoys their one-on-one time together, he and his old hunting buddy, rehashing the good old days. Even Grampa has stepped in by being a surrogate parent, taking care of Kyber’s special needs with the same love and care when we are out of town. <o:p> </o:p> Kyber mostly sleeps now, a level of inactivity we thought impossible just a few short years ago. But he is still a Lab after all, and despite the aches and pains, the quick exhaustion and uncoordination, he and I still have our regular play time together every morning. He likes to play catch lying down now. Throw the ball right in his mouth and give him an “Atta boy!” (even though he can’t hear them anymore) and he’s happy. Life is simple, but it’s still a good life. <o:p> </o:p> I’ve bought him Depends diapers, cutting a hole for the tail in them since the largest sized dog diapers were too small for him. I got doggie pee pads for the floor, constantly monitoring that he is still on them as he kicks off his diaper while dreaming of his more active youth. And I’ve got a gallon of Nature’s Miracle for those times when all our best efforts still came up short. <o:p> </o:p> Kyber will always be a valuable addition to this family and I like to think the reason he’s living this long is because of the love and care we’ve given him through his life. Why give up now? We still can’t let ourselves imagine living without him – even when he leaves me “Tootsie Roll” surprises I’d rather not have in my house. <o:p> </o:p> And who knows? Maybe this is all a good investment in the Bank of Karma. Hopefully my own non-fuzzy children will one day be happy to get up for me in the middle of the night and tell me it’s okay when I just can’t help those Tootsie Roll surprises. I Saved My Daughter's LIfe http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9473 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9473 I truly believe I saved my daughter life, and possibly our whole family’s lives, last week. And all because of a persistent smell of fish food. <o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> We don’t have a fish.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> For over a week there was first a subtle smell of fish, “…like when you make crab, Mom,” according to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Logan</st1:place></st1:city>. Then it escalated to a smell so bad we shut the door, put air-fresheners in place and had Whitney go sleep on <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Logan</st1:city></st1:place>’s top bunk until we had time for a hard-target search.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> I initially asked Whitney if she had found an old collection of seashells recently or maybe had some other organic material she was saving to transform into brilliant artwork that was obviously going rotten. But she swore her recently re-organized room was hiding no offenders.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> We kept doing quick, cursory checks to sniff out an obvious source, but the source of the stench eluded us. I could usually pinpoint the smell to somewhere near her dresser covered with 7-year old ideas of keepsakes (collected rocks, broken jewelry, Disney CD’s) and her art corner next to it – an overflowing mess of creativity. But we couldn’t locate a spot that made us say, “Ah-a! This is it.”<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> Finally, Saturday came and we (me, Hubby, SIL, MIL) literally tore Whitney’s room apart, sniffing anything and everything. We smelled all bazillion stuffed animals, pillows, comforters and blankets for rotting cotton. We searched the art corner for spoiled materials. We pulled out her dresser, her bed, her drawers, checked every nook and cranny of the closet for something that might have crawled in her room and died. Nothing.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> Everyone said, “Oh well, we tried, too bad, hopefully it’ll go away.”<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> But I couldn’t let it go. Something literally did not smell right.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> I decided it must be coming from the vents, under the house or in the attic. I got on a chair and smelled the ceiling vent. I went outside and smelled under her window and under the house. I sent Hubby into the attic. Nothing.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> After having Hubby putty a hole left by a hook in the ceiling, the smell seemed to get better. We decided it must’ve come from the attic after all and let Whitney sleep in her room again.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> The next day is when disaster was averted.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> As the evening was approaching, one last cloud burst dumped so much rain over our house that our gutters backed up and began leaking through the window in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Logan</st1:place></st1:city>’s room. I went into Whitney’s room to check her window and the smell was back worse than ever! And it was definitely coming from her window area behind her dresser.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> I called Hubby in to help me move the dresser to see what had finally materialized. But there was still nothing where we had once already checked and vacuumed.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> As Hubby walked away to grab some 409, saying it was probably something rotting in the track from her window made worse by the moisture – something immediately smelled different.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> It was smoke.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> “Do you think the outlet is going bad? Is it something electrical?” I asked my contractor husband in alarm.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> He touched the outlet where Whitney had her CD player and papier-mâché flower lamp plugged in. He jerked his hand back as the scorching outlet burned his hand. Quickly we yanked the plugs out of the socket, so hot you could not handle them.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> While Hubby went to get his electrical tools to investigate further, I looked around my daughter’s room in shock and horror – paper posters and artwork covering nearly every inch of wall-space, an art corner piled with combustible materials, the cotton and polyester draped bed right next to her dresser. The very bed she would’ve been in when her room caught fire with no time to escape. <o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> My blood ran cold as my husband dismantled the outlet, which immediately shorted the lights, showing me the scorched plastic and melted wires. There was no doubt in my mind that an electrical fire had been immanent that night and we had saved her life. Hubby immediately checked the smoke detector right outside her room, but I knew, that even though it tested working, it would’ve sounded too late to so save her from the fire’s origin. <o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> Later, Hubby consulted with a licensed electrician finding out that a fish food smell is a common warning of a loose negative wire in an outlet.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> I am so grateful that my daughter’s life was spared that I want to make sure disaster can be averted for other families with this story of caution. So please, if you smell fish food, and you don’t have a fish or hermit crab for a pet, check your electrical outlets. Or better yet, if you have an old house like mine, have every outlet in your house checked anyway. A life could depend on it.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> I never thought I would be grateful for my kid’s room smelling like something died in it but that very smell kept that very thing from happening. A Post-Mortem Halloween Soliloquy http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9452 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9452 Twas the Monday after Halloween And all through the house Half-eaten candy and wrappers Were scattered about Discarded costumes Once provoking dread Lay in heaps and piles From floor to bed Pumpkin seeds saved Still uncooked in a bowl Are now turning green All covered with mold Jack-o-lantern smiles Now starting to droop Already rotting On my front entry stoop The festive décor Once strewn about in glee Just looks like another Job waiting for me They hang from knobs They are affixed on glass They are on tables What a pain in the a** So I grab another Snickers What-the-heck a Baby Ruth All confiscated In the name of the tooth As I gnaw on the Twix Sugar Babies and Mounds I curse the beginning Of my holiday pounds And as I wrap up Each decoration put away Out comes another For Thanksgiving Day So I pop one more Smarties Ready to hurl I remind myself it’s for A special boy and girl Then I self medicate With a Reese’s peanut butter cup Only 52 days to Christmas I’m gonna throw up. ©Kelli Wheeler 11/08<o:p></o:p> Birthday Momservations™ http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9433 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9433 My son Logan celebrated his 9th birthday this weekend by inviting a few friends to join him for some indoor go-cart racing and then a sleep-over. It was a pivotal change in the way we’ve celebrated birthdays here in the past. <o:p> </o:p> To give you a clue at how over-the-top we used to go around here, take my daughter Whitney’s simple observation when she was 3 years old: “It’s not your birthday until there’s a big, giant, bouncy slide in the back yard.” <o:p> </o:p> So, we finally went with a low-key birthday celebration around here, not the usual three-ring circus of events with tons of kids, presents and preparation. A level head finally prevailed. <o:p> </o:p> It just happened to belong to a nine year-old. <o:p> </o:p> I still wanted the big, giant, inflatable slide. <o:p> </o:p> ☺        ☺        ☺ <o:p> </o:p> Birthday Momservations™ :<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> There’s pretty good odds the guest of honor will nap through their one year-old birthday party. <o:p> </o:p> No matter how you wrap it, new clothes just don’t register the excitement of a new toy or even a cardboard box. <o:p> </o:p> Reserving an inflatable bounce house for a party is a modern day rain dance. <o:p> </o:p> She who spends hours making special birthday cake shall be rewarded with tears for Hannah Montana ice cream cake instead. <o:p> </o:p> Never turn your back on frosting tester. <o:p> </o:p> The amount of money spent on a birthday party seems inversely proportional to the likelihood of said birthday boy/girl coming down sick the day of the party. <o:p> </o:p> Buying extra party favors, strangely enough, still does not guarantee you won’t come up short at the end of a party. <o:p> </o:p> Always wear long sleeves and long pants when sliding down a giant, inflatable slide – or at least have plenty of band-aids for inflatable slide novices and their friction burns. <o:p> </o:p> It is virtually impossible to get through a birthday party without someone crying. <o:p> </o:p> If you’re going to throw huge birthday extravaganzas for any child under six, then buy a good camera and take lots of pictures because in a few years, you’ll be the only one who remembers it. <o:p> </o:p> It’s a good weekend when you don’t have another birthday party to go to. <o:p> </o:p> For each additional child you allow to be invited, add an additional half hour of fighting over the completion of thank you cards. <o:p> </o:p> Any amount totaling over $50 in Target gift cards for a child is a waste and should be contributed to the greater good of the family. <o:p> </o:p> A slumber party for girls requires a completely different survival plan than a slumber party for boys. <o:p> </o:p> It is possible to have too much of a good thing evidenced by the melt-down of the birthday girl or boy. <o:p> </o:p> A gift worth giving is a gift worth receiving is a gift without a gift receipt being re-gifted. <o:p> </o:p> Chuck E. Cheese is just wrong on so many levels. Good Morning Sunshine http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9415 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9415 My son may look like his father but he wakes up like his mother. Grumpy, growly and not fit for human interaction for at least twenty minutes. Coffee is pointless. <o:p> </o:p> My little carbon-copy daughter was spared at least one of my genes, thankfully, and didn’t inherit my vampire like aversion to first morning light. Like her father, she wakes up perfectly delightful, eager beaver for the day, cracking a joke before her eyes even open. <o:p> </o:p> The way I see it, the early bird may get the worm, but us late birds know the brunch buffet is ten times better so you might as well sleep in. <o:p> </o:p> ☺        ☺        ☺ Today’s morning interactions: <o:p> </o:p> Mommy (snuggling up next to a fuzzy mop of hair poking above the covers): Time to get up little boy blue come blow your horn, sheep’s in the meadow, cow’s in the corn. <o:p> </o:p> <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Logan</st1:place></st1:city> (disappearing like a Whack-a-Mole under the covers): No Mom! I’m still tired! Don’t touch me -- I need to go peepee. <o:p> </o:p> With that I left him alone since it sounded eerily similar to what I told his Daddy when he came snuggling over Sunday morning. I can respect a non-morning person needing their space respected. I moved on to little miss Whit. <o:p> </o:p> Mommy (snuggling up next to a squirrel’s nest of hair poking above covers): Good morning little miss sunshine! What do you want to wear to school? <o:p> </o:p> Whitney (eyes still closed, smile spreading across her face giving away her suppressed chuckle): I’m wearing my bed and I’m not going to school. <o:p> </o:p> Mommy (showering kisses on her rosy cheeks): Oh yes you are. But the bed stays. Does this mean you’re going in your chonnies? <o:p> </o:p> Whitney (popping up to stand triumphant on her bed in all her blue, cammo underwear glory, huge grin on her face): I’m going streakin’! <o:p> </o:p> With this she jumps over me, off her bed onto the floor and darts out of the room to beat her groggy, tinkle-taking, grumple-headed brother to the TV remote. <o:p> </o:p> I laugh, because I’ve already laid in bed for twenty-minutes, warming up to the day like a classic car. If I hadn’t, I would’ve probably found her annoying rather than adorable. <o:p> </o:p> Like her father, I love that these two people in my life are so eager to greet the day and what it has to offer. Just leave me and Logan out of it and send us the all clear. Triathamom http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9395 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9395 In an ongoing effort to be able to eat chili cheese fries and all the Ranch dressing I could blissfully drown myself in (the kind made from scratch – there is no substitute), I train for and participate in sprint distance triathlons. <o:p> </o:p> It is a great exercise motivator because if you know you’re going to need to be able to complete a half mile open water swim, a fifteen mile bike and a three mile run all in one sitting, you kind of want to be prepared for it so you don’t die. <o:p> </o:p> See, the thing is, with the run if you’re tired you can walk. With the bike if you’re tired you can coast. With the swim if you’re tired – you drown. <o:p> </o:p> Seems a high price to pay for Ranch dressing – even if it is the super special kind made with real buttermilk. ☺        ☺        ☺ <o:p> </o:p> I’ve never been a quitter. I won’t stop reading a bad book, I’ll keep watching a lame movie and I will sport-eat anything left on a table at dinner despite the caloric damage I know I’m doing. <o:p> </o:p> So when I signed myself up for the Golden State Triathlon held this last weekend – despite nearly record low morning temperatures for the day (42 degrees), 20-40 mph freezing winds, and an <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">American</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">River</st1:placetype></st1:place> topping out at a balmy 62 degrees, I sucked it up and went for it. <o:p> </o:p> I’m either flippin’ crazy or I really need another hobby. <o:p> </o:p> But here’s what kept me motivated: my husband getting up early on his day off, collecting the kids, getting them cozied up and snack supplied and all of them going out to Discovery Park with me to support and cheer on their crazy wife/mother. <o:p> </o:p> So when I had to slip into that full-body wet suit and convince myself I could still feel my hands, feet and face and seriously considered peeing in my wetsuit to warm me up – I just looked over at my family and drew courage from their belief in me. <o:p> </o:p> When the frigid current of the river made swimming in the gym pool when the heater was broken seem like the white sand beaches of the Bahamas - I let the cheers of my family from the bridge above me ease my doubts. <o:p> </o:p> When the arctic blasts of wind hit my wet body and I was unable to feel my feet or hands on the bike, and I was nearly blown off the course by huge gusts while wrestling with trying to open a Power Bar even Houdini couldn’t escape from - I drew strength from the proud faces of my family as they cheered each of my laps. <o:p> </o:p> During the run when I could still not feel my frozen feet and had a calf muscle ready to throw in the towel since my brain wasn’t smart enough to stop, I  knew that I could not quit now because I had my family at the finish line eagerly awaiting my triumphant arrival. <o:p> </o:p> And make it I did, with the elements against me but my biggest fans applauding my accomplishment. <o:p> </o:p> I think the biggest victory in the experience was my kids seeing their mother practice what she preaches: <ul style="MARGIN-TOP: 0in" type="disc"> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">Even when things seem overwhelming and insurmountable that giving up is easy, but choosing to finish is worth the reward that accomplishment brings. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">Dare to try new things. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">Don’t give up in the face of adversity – use it to build character. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">Use your support system. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">Always challenge yourself – you’ll be better for it. </li> </ul> <o:p> </o:p> And if one day, my children use me as a source of inspiration in achieving their own goals and surmounting their own obstacles, it will have been the best race of my life. <o:p> </o:p> But mainly it’s great to know my kids think their mom is a bad-a**. I think I can use this for leverage during the teenage years. The High Wire Act of a 3rd Grade Book Report http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9380 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9380 Had to help my son with his 3rd grade book report project this last week. Here’s what went well with it: <o:p> </o:p> <ul style="MARGIN-TOP: 0in" type="disc"> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">He was prepared. The book was read well in advance. He had an idea of what he wanted to do to meet the criteria for an advertisement billboard. He wanted to buy the poster board and get started well before the due date. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">He was receptive to guidance. Since he had never done this type of project before and he’s only eight, he realized Mommy might actually have some valuable advice and strategies worth listening to. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">He managed his time well. He worked on it a little each day of the week so it didn’t become overwhelming. There was no rush to finish it and he had time to set it aside if he grew frustrated. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in">In the end it came out wonderful. It was actually a 3rd grade level production, driven by his own creativity and eight year old capabilities without too much interference by Mommy.</li> </ul> <o:p> </o:p>Here’s what didn’t go so well with the book report project: <o:p> </o:p> <ul style="MARGIN-TOP: 0in" type="disc"> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in">Creativity is not his specialty. He is a human calculator, but when it comes to arts he is a minimalist. He has no interest in putting a little extra effort into an art project or upping the bar beyond kindergarten stick figures. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in">Creativity is my specialty. I had to physically remove myself and drew blood biting my tongue so that this would not become the best 3rd grade book report I have ever done. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in">He wasn’t always receptive to guidance. The fact that Mommy used to be a teacher holds no water in this house. Apparently, I know nothing and his teacher knows everything. The kid can be as stubborn as his mother. </li> <li class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; tab-stops: list .5in">The “Giving Your Best” talk and semantics. It is a tightrope walk between pushing your kids to do their best and not eroding their self-confidence when they think they are. I think I finally found the right words after retiring for a potty break after we had a joint melt-down over the supposedly finished project. Here’s what I told him when he thought he was done and I thought he could have done a little more:</li> </ul> For each grade of school there are higher expectations of what you should be able to do. Just because it worked in second grade doesn’t mean it’s still good for third grade. You’ve learned more so you should be able to do more.<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> Tomorrow, you will probably see three types of book report projects. Ones that look like a little more effort could have been put into it. Others that look like a 3rd grader gave their best effort. And a few that will look like their parents really enjoy doing 3rd grade book reports. I want yours in the second group. So, this project is good, but how can it be made better?<o:p></o:p> <o:p> </o:p> It just so happened that last Friday was my volunteer day in the classroom. I got to see all the book report projects being turned in. There were some that could’ve used a little more effort. There were many that looked like a 3rd grader gave their best effort. And there were some where Mommy and Daddy are going to get an A+. <o:p> </o:p> And with little interference and a bit of guidance from Mommy, my son’s project was right where it was supposed to be with his best effort and he was proud of it. <o:p> </o:p> For that I think we both deserve an A+. <o:p> </o:p> ☺        ☺        ☺   Momservations II http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9361 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9361 Back by popular demand… <o:p> </o:p> It is inevitable that you will become an underwear sniffer in an effort to do less laundry. <o:p> </o:p> You will never be able to get your kids to actually put their clean and dirty clothes where they belong if they ever catch you doing the sniff test, because it is more fun to declare to everyone that Mommy is an underwear sniffer. <o:p> </o:p> Daddy going out of town usually coincides with Breakfast for Dinner on the menu. <o:p> </o:p> Mommy going out of town means McDonald’s is on the menu. For breakfast, lunch and dinner. <o:p> </o:p> She who goes to bed with dishes in the sink wakes up with ants on the counter. <o:p> </o:p> Baby wipes are surprisingly useful to take off make-up, get crayon art off the wall and wipe down a bathroom prior to an unexpected guest. <o:p> </o:p> Shout stain remover is a gift from God. <o:p> </o:p> There are no such things as friends and respecting the elderly when it comes to getting the front row at your child’s school play or talent show night. <o:p> </o:p> No one ever learns to like Brussel sprouts or lima beans. <o:p> </o:p> The first time your baby sleeps through the night you will wake in a panic that they didn’t wake you. <o:p> </o:p> You are not a mother if you have never caught throw-up in your hands, wiped snot without a tissue or sniffed a baby’s bottom for poo-poo. <o:p> </o:p> Clean it and the mess will follow. <o:p> </o:p> There is no such thing as finished laundry. <o:p> </o:p> Telling your kids that monsters sleep under your bed and not theirs is not bad parenting, it’s sleep preservation. <o:p> </o:p> Kisses and boo-boos go together like peanut butter and jelly. <o:p> </o:p> Air-bags were really invented by a mother to keep kids from fighting over the front seat. <o:p> </o:p> The Disney Channel is a necessary evil. ☺        ☺        ☺ Momservations http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9334 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9334 Just a few observations I’ve made in my brief mom career: <o:p> </o:p> School “Picture Day” becomes a battle of looking cool vs. looking adorable after about 2nd grade. <o:p> </o:p> You’ll do well in life once you concede that Mom always wins. <o:p> </o:p> The harder someone works on a homework assignment, the more likely you’ll find it left on the counter after dropping the kids off at school. <o:p> </o:p> You can get a kid to do anything for a Slurpee. <o:p> </o:p> Your child will decide to try out that inappropriate word or phrase at some point to impress your friends. <o:p> </o:p> They will tell Daddy they learned it from you. <o:p> </o:p> Freshly washed sheets seem to precede a sudden onset of bed wetting. <o:p> </o:p> A booger picked is a booger eaten or at least wiped on your furniture. <o:p> </o:p> Bad karma reveals itself in the group you get stuck chaperoning for the class field trip. <o:p> </o:p> Jell-O or a fruit roll-up can represent a nutritious food group in a pinch. <o:p> </o:p> At some point, your sweet, perfect child will be the kid that throws tanbark or dumps sand on another kid’s head at the park. <o:p> </o:p> If you haven’t spent large chunks of time in every Target, grocery store, department store, Wal-Mart, Costco or Toys R Us bathroom, then you’ve never potty trained a toddler. <o:p> </o:p> If you’ve never been peed on or had to intervene in a public urination, then you only have girl children. <o:p> </o:p> If you don’t know who Zac and Vanessa are, can’t name a Jonas Brother, or don’t know the difference between Hannah Montana and Miley Cyrus then you only have boy children. <o:p> </o:p> Watching a sleeping child will make it all better again. <o:p> </o:p> ☺        ☺        ☺ Lost in Translation http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9309 http://www.sacmomsclub.com/home/Blog/kellimwheeler/9309 It‘s my children’s favorite week at school this week. Mr. Bluestein comes to teach them folk dance and folk music appreciation. <o:p> </o:p> For me personally, I can understand why an appreciation for the folk genre needs to be taught. But for my kids, they are in silly song heaven. <o:p> </o:p> They begged me to let them get Mr. Bluestein’s self produced album “…for only $5 Mom!” and have been appreciating the heck out of an eclectic mix of folk songs since I bought it for them. It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard to me, but who am I to say to cultural enrichment, “Turn that nonsensical garbage down!”? <o:p> </o:p> And yet, with my kids currently in school and I’m free to listen to my own preference of music, I’m still Polly Wolly Doodling around singing, “<st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Turkey</st1:place></st1:country-region> in the straw - Hay! Hay! Hay!” <o:p> </o:p> Now I love a good rendition of “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain,” but my kids have keyed in on an original song by Mr. Bluestein and his mighty band of annoying song makers (Skillet Licorice) called “Haunted House.” <o:p> </o:p> My kids looooove this song. But mainly the chorus that goes, “King Kong the gorilla playing ping pong with Godzilla.”   <o:p> </o:p> I haaaaate this song. When I convince the kids to quit playing the inane tune for any excuse I can think of (time to clip the dog’s toenails!), they continue to sing the one line over and over falling all over themselves every time with uncontrolled glee. <o:p> </o:p> “Isn’t that the funniest song, Mom?” <o:p> </o:p> “Isn’t this a great song, Mom?” <o:p> </o:p> “Don’t you just love this song, Mom?” <o:p> </o:p> “You want to hear it again, Mom? <o:p> </o:p> “Did your hear that, Mom? King Kong the gorilla is playing ping pong with Godzilla!” <o:p> </o:p> Oh I heard it. And I am doomed to never forget it. Worst five bucks I’ve ever spent. But if you’re nine years old or under – Mr. Bluestein and his band are the second coming of the Beatles and Money Can Buy Them Love. <o:p> </o:p> ☺        ☺        ☺