I will be the first to tell you that having kids is both amazing and challenging. I have recently started to really feel the baby itch, especially since Cadence is potty-trained and solidly a toddler now. Makes me sad and nostalgic. If I could afford to stay home, I would totally go for another baby or two. Anyways, that is a side note, because Bishop has entered a new phase in life. One that is awesome, and incredibly embarrassing.

He has started to really notice things about other people. Which is normal, and totally fine, and actually a great learning experience for him. The part that is a little wonky is that he generally just announces the things he notices to anyone who wants to hear. Much to my embarrassment. Usually it is just harmless little things, but every now and then, it is something that we 'politely' don't mention we notice. But almost 5 year olds don't really get the whole 'polite' conversation thing. They are just 100% honest about what they see and feel.

So it really wasn't too surprising to me when Bishop announced to Pastor Lynn a few weeks back that his hair is white. He was just being observant, going around the table, tell everyone what color their hair is, and it just so happens that Pastor Lynn's hair is white. Was it polite? No, but it was his honest observation. And because Pastor Lynn is gracious enough, it wasn't too bad.

The problem came the following Friday as we were in Macy's shopping, and B announced to the store that, "That ladies hair is white just like Pastor Lynn's!!"

Now. I have read many parenting books, some good, some not so much. Listened to podcasts about parenting and discipline. And one of the biggies that I really feel strongly about is to never give an 'ultimatum' or a consequence that you can't follow through with. However, in the moment, my brain stopped working. And I gave B a consequence that was both unfitting for the crime, and one that I could never back up.

I got down on this level, and whispered fervently, "Bishop Ivey, if you can't not talk nicely, you won't be allowed to talk."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I mentally took a step back, and thought "Whhhaaaattt?" But in the moment, I couldn't really take it back, or change it, so I just added to it, and told B how it was not nice to talk about ladies hair.

Which I also realize makes no sense to him.

So I ended it with the time honored, "Don't say a single thing as we walk by her. Or Else."

What the "Or Else" is was never tested, since the boy has a functioning brain, and kept his mouth shut as we walked by the nice elderly lady who was staring at us. I did consider having Bishop say sorry, though really, that also doesn't make much sense, since he had no idea what he did wrong.

That, however, was nothing in comparison to what he had done several weeks previously at the grocery store.

Whenever I go grocery shopping, I try to plan it around a time that I can go alone and just get it done without my kiddos. Schedules being what they are, that doesn't always happen. So I was in the store with both kids, Cadence in the cart being her normal cute self, and Bishop being my 'big helper' putting things in the cart as I got them off the shelf. So, there we stood, in the cracker aisle, as I contemplated which brand to get for what I needed. I was looking at my list,  looking at my options, contemplating number of people...all that fun stuff that goes into planning. Anyways, Bishop pats my leg to get my attention and says, "Mom, that guy is really little. Like a kid little. But he's a big kid."

Being otherwise distracted, I answered with, "Yeah, I am sure he is a kid, Bishop."

"No Mom, he's not a kid, but he's little like one."

Still not really paying attention (the peril of any parent) I say, "Ok, Bishop, I am sure he is little like a kid because he IS a kid, now hang on, let me get what we need." So I grab my choice and turn, only to see down the aisle, at the other end, 2 midgets.

Real ones. Not kids. Oh man.

Again, I lost brain function, as they were staring at us, clearly listening to what Bishop had been saying. I am pretty sure the blood drains out of my brain and into my cheeks, and I lose both brain function and suddenly make a convincing impersonation of a lobster.

Regardless. So I pick up my son, put him on the handle of the cart, and again whisper fervently, "Bishop Ivey, when we walk by those people you are not to say a single word. NOT a SINGLE WORD!"

"But Mom, they are lit..."
"SHHHHHHHH, Bishop! Enough! We will talk about it later, but right now, you need to stop talking!"

And being the good boy that he is, he did stop talking, again not really understanding what was going on, or why the little adults were glaring at us. I swear I almost fainted walking past them.

I do wonder how long this will last. Probably until he really starts to get the whole 'social politeness' thing, so I am pretty sure I have a solid 5 more years of this. Dear Lord.

What has my life become?

For all of you that know, today is Cadence's 2nd birthday. And though you might imagine this post would be dedicated to her, there is a larger problem facing the Ivey family that I feel must be spoken of...

Tonight, while putting away things from my afternoon shopping trip, I found a frog on one of the bags.
A real, live one.

At first, I thought it was one of Bishop toy plastic ones, because it was about the same size and color as one he has had for a while, so I mostly ignored it. Then I bumped the bag it was on, and it moved. Upon a closer (not physically, just longer) inspection, I realized that it was, indeed, a real frog, happily sitting on my Target bag. I promptly left, went into the kitchen, grabbed a cheap Tupperware, punched holes in the lid, and went back to catch the frog (I am the only adult home, and my children need protected). Clearly, I am a caring person, since I punched holes in the lid of a perfectly usable Tupperware for the darn thing.

As I decide how to go about catching it, I decide it needs to get off the bag, so I nudge the bag a bit, and it jumps off, and under my couch. That's right. Under my couch.

It is time to call in reinforcements.
So I call Zach.
And this is where things get hairy.

Because it is Zach's frog.
That he lost over a MONTH AGO! AND DIDN'T TELL ME HE HAD LOST IT!

He claims he did so to prevent me from freaking out like I am now, and I feel that I may have been better prepared to come face to face with a frog if I had know it had existed. I am now rethinking every time I just stuck my foot in my shoe, or ran my hand under the couch to check for spare toys gone astray.

So, my couch and I have been having a stare down for the last couple hours, where I stand at a safe distance and monitor it for any frog movement. So far, none.

And according to Zach, he sort of forgot the frog was loose in our house, and thought it would have turned up in the bathroom. Uh, even worse. If I was taking a shower and the frog hopped in for a little drink, I may have acted less humanely. More in the form of screaming and slapping/throwing things at it.

If I had know it was missing, we would have FOUND IT LONG BEFORE NOW!!
And for all who are wondering, the frog will be found before he comes to bed tonight.

The end.

Missing

I lost a child for the first time today. I feel like 4 1/2 years is a pretty solid amount of time to have kept an eye on him. The worst part was that it was at 6am. At home. While I was sleeping.

So really, none of this was my fault, and I am still claiming to have never lost a child. Because I totally found him. Eventually.

Basically what happened is Zach went in to Bishop's room to wake him up like we do ever morning for school, and he wasn't in bed. So Zach calls out for me, and asks me if I have seen him. To which I answer, no. So we then commence a search the included tearing apart his bed, looking in the living room, bathroom, my bedroom (he often sneaks in during the night. And by often, I mean every night). But no Bishop. So we go into Cadence's room, turn on her light, and no Bishop. Cadence, of course, is sprawled out in bed like she doesn't realize that someone snuck into the house while we all slept and stole her older brother.

Which is what I was imagining had happened at this point.

So I start yelling for him, and low and behold, a little pj clad bottom wiggles itself out from under Cadence's crib, and soon enough, a head pops up.

First relief, then the panicked anger hits.

Why was he sleeping under her crib? He didn't know.
What was he even doing in her room? He was scared.
But why under the crib? No idea.

I do wonder if he meant to come into our room and just got lost. Or if he was wandering to our room and heard the heater turn on and just found the closest vent and laid down by it. Which is his favorite thing to do. Even when it's not all that cold.

A guy I work with suggested we get him the pillow pet night light thingy that will turn on for 20 minutes or so, then fade out. I think a night light might be a good investment.

So, no one broke in and stole my child, who was mostly missing for under 5 minutes, but who almost scared me to death. Love being a mom.

Most days.

The writing on the wall

This morning, while getting ready for the day, I noticed something on our bathroon wall that hadn't been there previously. I was trying to decide what it exactly it could be, thinking that Bishop had possibly brought food in the bathroom and then wiped his fingers on the wall when I realized, nope, it's poop. On my wall. Wiped there by my sweet 4 year old.

I am pretty sure I know how it got there, I mean, why he had poop on his fingers to begin with. What I am more concerned about is that he has done this before. And we had a talk then, too. I think this time around, I am going to make him clean it himself.

So just for future reference, if you are over visiting and it looks like someone drew on the wall, don't taste test it. Chances are pretty solid it could be poop. No pun intented there, of course.

On an completly different note, I have decided to clean up my diet. I have tossed out coffee (guh) and sweets, sugar, things that are highly processed. I am really just trying to reset my digestive system, which has been off for a few months. Today is the first day, and really, the coffee thing hasn't been so bad as the no snacking/no sugar thing has been. I now know that I need to pack other things with me tomorrow for work because, whew...rough.

Hopefully it works though, and I can get all reset and then maybe reintroduce some of the foods into my diet, but maybe not. I really struggle with processed foods, and need to get on an even keel digestively before I start trying to add things again. *Sigh* Sad day indeed. But coffee might just have to be gone forever :/

Are you adopted?

Ok, this week has been crazy, and frankly felt about 2 weeks long. I need a recharge day!! But before that happens (hopefully tomorrow, since it for sure won't on Sunday) I had something pretty funny happen to me.

So, this is week 2 of school and we are still getting settled into classes and all that. I happen to be in a middle school PE class, which is fine because I don't really know the middle school kiddos very well. I am mostly secluded on my end of the building, but not this year!! Anyways, so in this middle school class, the teacher is a Deaf man, and there are actually 3 new students, none of whom sign, which makes communicating a bit tricky. Well, for them, anyways. Of the new students in that class, 2 are girls, and 1 is a boy. Well, they tend to depend on me to better explain whatever is being asked of them, since they have a level of hearing loss (obviously, if they come to ISDB) and the teacher doesn't always speak clearly. Since, you know, he is Deaf. 

Anyways, on Tuesday this week, the students were running around and the new young man came up to me, very nonchalantly, leans in, and asks, "Are you adopted?" 

Which was not at all what I was expecting to hear, and I responded poorly with, "No. Are you?" Which is none of my business and slightly inappropriate for me to ask.

"Yes" He responded. "You look like my sister."

"Oh" I replied, slightly dazed.

Which, if this was all you knew about him, you might think a few different things...but first, you need to know that this young man is black. And my first thought in response was something like 'Uh...I'm not black' which of course I didn't say. But as he wandered off, I was mostly puzzled and slightly amused. And I kinda wanted to ask if he had ever looking in a mirror, because, yeah...I look NOTHING like him. In any way. 

Then it occurred to me that maybe he means his adopted sister? Like the family he was adopted into? Maybe I look like that girl? Because surely he doesn't know what his biological sister looks like, and thinks I look like her. 

Anyways, he asked me again today, so I must actually look like someone in his life. Apparently she is 21, which he then asked how old I am (ahem...not 21). 

Anyways, that is the only time I have ever been told I look like a black kid. So this one had to be written down.

Life Changes Abound

Well, I have officially put my first week of teaching PE behind me, and am moving on to a 4 day weekend!! I think they scheduled school to start like this on purpose, because if I had to go back on Monday, I might not show up. Just kidding...mostly.

Actually, I had a pretty great week. Mostly exhausting because I have almost no breaks all day long, but once you get past that, the variety of ages and abilities makes it interesting, if nothing else. So it was good. I learned a lot about my job, and now have a long weekend to get ready for the next several weeks. I didn't want to plan tons ahead of time, because I wasn't sure how the classes would work. Anyhow, it will be a great year. I can tell :D

As we were leaving from our daycare, Bishop was shouting "BYE!!" loudly to Amanda's littlest girl Grace. Finally he stopped shouting, and told me that telling her 'bye' makes him feel better. I asked him if he enjoyed getting to play at Amanda's today (he only goes to school Monday-Wednesday), and he said yes, that he had missed Grace. And that he and Grace are getting married. And that he asked her to marry him, and she said yes. And that made him really happy.

So cute. Another cute development? Cadence has discovered dress up shoes. I had to force her out of them before we left Amanda's, and carry her kicking and screaming to the car. Because of the shoes. Now, a good pair of shoes are worth some kicking and screaming, but, come on. She wasn't even wearing the same colors. Sheesh. Girls are just so dramatic. As an aside, Cadence, as you might guess, is doing excellent after her trauma of the weekend. Absolutely no outwards signs or symptoms that she got rocked.

She has also taken up a love of Superman. And Spiderman. And anything she can get excited about super hero wise. She currently runs around the corner of the hall, and I have to say, (you guessed it) "Whose going to save us?!" and she comes galloping out, usually carrying the Superman dvd, and then I have to say, "Superman!!" or Super Cadence or some other variation that includes super in it. And she gasps in a high pitched baby voice "Super!"

Incredibly cute.

Nothing terrifies you like children

You really never realize how scary things are until they happen to your children. For example, I can remember when I broke my arm as a child, and I don't remember anything other than it really hurt and the emergency room took basically my whole life to get the cast on and everything. Also that I now dislike X-rays because the sadist operating the machine kept wanting me to twist my arm so they could get a better picture. Yeah right. They probably just wanted me to put back into place myself with all the twisting. The point is, I am sure my parent's were more scared that I was, something that never occurred to me until I became a parent. Now, my dear oldest child has never had a trip to the ER, though I get the feeling like a broken bone is probably in his near future from all his SuperMan stunts.

Which brings us to today, and our first ever trip to the ER for my daughter. Who is only 20 months old.
Terrifying. I still feel sick to my stomach. I don't know how paramedic's deal with their job, other than just distancing themselves...especially with children.

Ok, here's the story. So we had the church picnic today, and after everyone finished eating, I took Cadence home to grab a change of clothes and refill her sippy. She fell asleep in the car, and I woke her up when we got back to the church. Anyways, we were standing, watching Zach play football, when someone threw a pass to a young man, who ran to catch it, and in doing so, turned, hit Cadence, and literally rocked her world. She flew end over end a couple times, and landed on her back. Of course, I ran over and grabbed her, which, at that point, she was unconscious. If you have ever held an unconscious child, you know how scary this is. She wasn't responding for what seemed like forever, but really was only about 10-15 seconds. She finally started blinking, and didn't want to really wake up. She did start making little crying sounds (silent children are far worse than crying children, take my word for it) but no where near loud or enough, especially for the drama queen she is. When she finally started perking up, we decided to take her to the ER to be checked out. Of course I called my brother for his (mostly) expert advice, and sure enough, she is ok. She does have a mild concussion and will probably have a black eye. As long as she doesn't start throwing up in the next few hours, we should be okay.

But sheesh, that scared a few years off my life.