Funny Kids

Love Hate Relationship

I won’t tell you who constructed such a fine piece of artwork.
As they might have morning after regret.
But, I will tell you
that karma is a bummer.
And for all the times I said this exact thing to my mom
I want you to know
that I always knew you didn’t hate me.

If helping you to learn to clean your room
so you can have
a nice home of your own someday
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If disciplining you for
disobedience
so that you will learn
that actions have consequences
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If reading scriptures with you every day,
so that you will know
the love of God and Christ
means I hate you,
then I must hate you.
If sitting down with you to
do your homework
every day after school
so you won’t be a procrastinator
means I hate you
then I hate you.
If telling you to hurry
because you are going to be late
for soccer again,
so that you will learn to be responsible
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If asking you to remember
and wash your face every night
so you won’t be scarred
by the effects of
adolescent acne
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If taking your phone away
so that you can learn to
have a real conversation
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If requiring you to wear
modest clothes
so that you will
have self-respect
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If limiting your TV time
so that you won’t
turn into a couch potato
means I hate you,
then I hate you.
If asking you to help
with household chores
so that you will learn
to be a contributing member of society
means I hate you
then I hate you.
Now,
go back,
and read
every one
of these stanzas
over again.
And where they say,
“means I hate you
then I hate you”
please replace with
“means I love you,
then I love you.”
And then add this last one.
If laughing
when you make a sign like this
so that you will
learn not to take
yourself too serious
means I love you,
then you must know
that I really love you.
Because I am still laughing.

Love is everything

Last week, I kissed my husband at the dinner table
and asked my kids if they knew how much I loved their dad.
All the girls gave a rapid yes
while covering their eyes and giving us the pukes.
I kept kissing.
And then asked,
“How do you know.”
Bella answered eagerly.
“Because you have four kids.”
LG about sprayed his Crystal Lite Lemonde
in the baby’s face.

“Right”, I told her.
And then declared to LG that I was going to have a great blog post.

Happy Anniversary to my husband of 13 years.
Who made this message possible.
With some good love making.

There are certain spelling mistakes that this mother can overlook.
Especially when it comes to love.

Only Sophia

A little while back Sophia had some fun by saying that if she would have gotten her middle finger cut off she would have to say “give me four” when wanting a high five for the rest of her life.
 
I recently came across this picture, and wanted to share the funny story.
 
Raising Sophia is so much fun. She is hilarious. She is smart. She is beautiful. She is SWEET. And she is also blonde. Very blonde.
 
A few years back, as we were visiting my in-laws, for some reason, LeGrand and the girls and I ended up driving to church in Grammy’s van. Aunt Michelle was with us. Halfway to church, Sophia starts screaming from the back. We, being the experienced parents that we were, told her to knock it off. Michelle attentively found out what was going on. She calmly declared, “Her finger is stuck in the seatbelt.”
 
“Well pull it out”, I say. “It won’t come out”, Michelle says. Sophia is now crying with full force, which is slightly louder than a whimper. I forgot to tell you the girl is quiet. And although she has mostly outgrown it, she used to be terribly shy. I climb in the back of the van to take care of whatever it was that 22 year old Michelle couldn’t.
 
I was in for the shock of my life. HER FINGER WAS STUCK IN THE SEATBELT. What the heck? How did this happen? Sophia explained that she was just trying it on for size. You know, like a ring. What?.. had she worked her way up to the middle finger from the pinky? Well, she found the finger that it WOULDN’T fit. The middle finger was painfully and obviously TOO BIG. Honda Odyssey engineers must not have thought this one through. 3 year old stuck in a van + an empty middle seatbelt = an ultimate disaster.
 
I still thought I may be able to rectify things. I asked Michelle to hand me the A&D Ointment out of the diaper bag while thinking “thank goodness I still have one in diapers.” I slathered it good. The finger would still not budge. It wanted to keep that seatbelt on for the showing I guess. Sophia started really screaming good. I pulled hard to no avail. That thing, that ring, um, I mean that seatbelt was not coming off, and her finger was now swelling up good. The seatbelt started cutting into her skin.
 
By this time, we pulled into the church parking lot. LeGrand got in the back of the van to assess the damage. He calmly asked Michelle to go into the church building to get his dad. Papa came out and was astonished. Remember he is an engineer and he raised five kids….one of which, was Jordan. (a whole other story – one bragging rite was rescuing Jordan vs a hot water heater and although the hot water heater tried to shock Jordan to death, Jordan still won) Who would have guessed this could ever happen? Not any of us if we weren’t staring at it with our own eyes.
 
We decided I should try and get some ice from the church to see if we could get the swelling down. At this point, Sophia is resigned to be stuck in this van for a very long time. At least she had stopped screaming. The ice didn’t work. At all. It may have cooled her off a little but, that was about it. The only other thing we could think to do was call the fire department. I went in and found a NON EMERGENCY number and called. They questioned, “Her finger is stuck in the seatbelt?” “Yes”, I said, “but it is so much worse than that.” “We can’t get her out of the car.” With my brief explanation and their utter curiosity they said they would send someone out.
 
Meanwhile, we solicited the help from a prison doctor who happened to be attending church. He tried the trick of wrapping the string around the finger. It wasn’t even close to working. I guess it works on real rings…just not the steel kind. People from the earlier congregation start filling the parking lot as they were leaving. They looked over casually wondering what all these people were doing standing in the back of a van. It was July. It was hot. All of the sudden, you can hear the sirens. They are screaming from down the street and they are traveling fast. Could they possibly be for our Sophia? Why yes. They were.
 
First, the firetruck arrived. In LeGrand’s words, “Three big old firemen” all decked out in their flame resistant uniforms went to work. They assessed the situation and found a perfectly happy and shy little girl confined to a life in the backseat of a mini-van via seatbelt confusion. The confusion being theirs. They called the fire chief. He had to come and see for himself. Shortly after he arrived and checked things out for himself he said he had been the fire chief for thirty years and had never seen anything like this. Well there’s really no other way to celebrate America on the weekend of Independence Day, is there? The irony – no freedom to be found without the jaws of life.
 
Well, before they went as drastic as the jaws of life they decided that they would consult with their buddies, the paramedics. The paramedics offered nothing, except for some real eye candy for the people leaving church. We had a lot of gawkers. Not to blame them. How could they not wonder what was going on?A little girl in the back of a van. Emergency workers each taking turns checking out the situation. An array of emergency vehicles, inlcuding, but not limited to: a firetruck (with lights and sirens), an ambulance, a couple of police cars, and the truck of the fire chief.
 
Oh yeah, after putting all their heads together, what did they come up with? They were gonna have to cut her out. That was all they could do. They cut her out of the seatbelt and gave us their best advice, “Head on over to the emergency room to see if they can figure out some way to remove the metal from her hand”. “Oh, and tell your other kids not to play with the seat-belts in the future.” “Why thank you. Thank you so much.”
 
LG, Sophia, my father in law(Duane), and I head on over to the emergency room. We get to start it all over again. At the front desk. “Hi.” “hi.” “How can we help you?” We all look totally fine and we are dressed to the nines compared to the rest of the room because our Sunday worshop was apparently happening on their floor of the hospital. LeGrand starts to explain, “This is our daughter Sophia, she got her finger stuck in the seatbelt.” Blank stare. Me: “let me show you.” I held up her hand to the receptionist who immediately dropped her jaw in astonishment.
 
This exact scenario happened at least 20 more times while visiting the hospital. We finally just started throwing her hand into the faces of the medical gawkers. Everyone wanted to see what a finger looked like on a little girl who stuck it in a seatbelt. Nurses, doctors, janitors, desk workers, x-ray technicians. You name it. None of the emergency room docs knew what to do either. They tried the string trick, ice, but gave up shortly before the second round of A&D ointment.
 
It all ended with a visit from the orthopedic surgeon who declared, “we are going to have to do surgery with our diamond saw.” Are you kidding me?
 
As he started to explain that he was pretty steady with the saw, but there were still all kind of tragic possibilities including the loss of a finger, I quickly reminded him that LG was in law school and he better not screw up. He didn’t appreciate that. I started crying and begging him to not cut her finger off. He assured me that if he did cut it off, he would be able to most possibly successfully reattach it.
 
That was the longest hour of my life. The surgeon did a great job. I never did tell him that LeGrand wouldn’t have sued him even if he cut her whole hand off. I was so relieved that she was all in one piece.
 
Today, Sophia is really proud of two things. One- she was in a movie and two – she has a beautiful and modern ring that is an original. (I haven’t had the heart to tell her that has probably happened to someone else out there in this big world) The ring is cut into two pieces in her box of keepsakes and she is free to try it on whenever she feels a hankering. We figured that would be the surest way of keeping her away from the same exact seatbelts in our current van.
 
I wish I could have been at the Honda Dealership when my father in law was explaining the situation. He had to pull out a picture of WHY the fire department had actually cut the seatbelt out of the van. “She got her finger stuck in the seatbelt” just wasn’t cutting it.
 
Our hats go off to Honda who has a lifetime free replacement for their seatbelts. Maybe one of these days they will call to let our children safety test their vans. I am sure there are other possible disastrous scenarios that their engineers haven’t thought of. Adding a blonde child to their team could only help their safety regulations. I know four children that could give them a run for their money, as long as they won’t lose any fingers.
Adding this video in on 1/24/2014 for your reference to the string trick mentioned.

Proud Mothering Moments

When I was a young mother,
I screwed up all the time.
I would like to think that I screwed up
then more often than I do now.
I laugh as new mothers ask me
how I do so well with 4 children.
I laugh because they don’t believe me
when I tell them that there’s a learning curve.
To prove my point, here’s a great story.
One time, LG and I went shopping with Abigail.
Remember, we only had ONE child.
Maybe two, I can’t remember if Sophia was born yet.
We went to Utah’s finest hub for young poor college families:
The Wal-Mart in Orem, UT.
Abigail started whining that she needed
to go to the bathroom.
We cut our shopping short,
and checked out quickly.
LG was assigned to take the things to the car.
And, I took Abigail to the bathroom at the front of the store.
I took her in a stall and got her situated.
When all of the sudden,
a wave of “I need to relieve myself too”
washed over me.
I told Abigail to stay in her stall
and that I was going to run into the stall next to her.
I talked to her as I ran over and the whole time
I was doing my business.
In the middle of this, I see her feet hit the floor.
I adamantly encourage her to wait for me.
I tell her to sit back down.
She took a step.
I tell her to stand still.
She keeps walking.
I see her feet run out of her stall.
I don’t know if she can hear me.
I start raising my voice.
“Abigail, Abigail, mommy is right here.”
“Abigail, come here.”
I notice that she left her pants and her underwear
on the floor of her stall.
I hurry and pull my pants up.
And run.
I don’t even think I flushed the toilet.
Gross.
By the time I got to her,
she had walked out of the store.
With no pants on.
So much for Code Adam.
So much for Wal-Mart greeters
watching for suspicious activity.
And so much for me being
a natural at raising kids from my first.
And I have never EVER tried to go to the bathroom
at the same time as one of my toddlers
ever since that horrifying day at Wal-Mart
back in 2000 or 2001.
And one lesson, after another, and another,
has made me into the amazing mother
that I am today.
And lucky for me,
none of the rest of my lessons,
consisted of me
running after a naked child
in the parking lot
of Wal-Mart.
Did I mention that she had pooped
and hadn’t been wiped?
And the same goes for me.

Give Me Four

Sophia is hilarious.
We’ve already established this.

The other day as we were going through papers in the attic,
we came across the seatbelt that was diamond sawed from her middle finger.
Have I mentioned the girl is our most clutzy?
Yes, she got a seatbelt stuck around her finger like a ring.
The girls were talking about how lucky she was
because they didn’t saw her finger off.
Sophia then held up her hand while bending down her middle finger.
And she said,
“I know, I am really lucky,
if they would have cut my middle finger off,
the rest of my life,
I would have to say,
give me four.”
Then my older less innocent daughter added:
“And you wouldn’t be able to flip anybody off either.”
I don’t think that would have been a problem.
Sophia is not just hilarious, but 100% kind and loving.
She wouldn’t flip off a bird.
And, yes, that is my best attempt at a pun.
And the reason, I am so impressed with
Sophia’s witty humor.
She gets that from her dad’s side of the family.

Time-Out Time

I just read this article for some great new strategies in disciplining my kids.
After reading the article, I thought that letting the kids play cards with the dog was a really great idea of disciplining with techniques of both distraction and silliness. Let me know if your dog is as good as ours at playing spoons. It kind of runs in the Gold blood. Olive would love to get together with your dog for a card playing play date.

I typically am a go-to time out mom. I am a believer in time-out. We spanked Abigail, our oldest, for a while and found that it did not work for her at all. It just made her more aggressive. I am not saying that spanking won’t work for some children, but for me it wasn’t an option because I could not spank without anger. But, the older my children have got, the more frustrated I have become with the ineffectiveness of time-out. I have found myself trying to remember what my mom did with her seven kids when I have situations to resolve at hand.
My mom spanked so well without anger that it was a standing joke at our house growing up. There was usually much laughter accompanying our spankings, which were preferably given with a wooden spoon. It was much softer than her hand would have been. She’s such a softie. Another good thing my mom did was make my siblings and I sit under the peach tree in the backyard whenever we fought. We had to stay there until we were willing to give each other a hug. How powerful and simple that technique was. I think she may have even used it on some of the neighbor kids from time to time. And, now that I am a mother, I realize how ingenious the idea was for her sanity too. She didn’t have to worry or listen to any bickering once we were outside. She also remained neutral and made us work out our own solutions with this effective disciplining strategy.
I was really excited the other day when I had a good parenting stroke of genius. I think my mom would be pleased. The idea stemmed from her insistence that I write “I love my brother 100 times” at least 100 times in my life.
For the most part my kids behave great, but I have one pretty consistent struggle between my two bullheaded children. Abigail is 11 and wants to always tell 6 year old Bella how to do things. Bella resents it because she thinks she can be her own boss. They go at it pretty good from time to time, mostly just verbally, but sometimes they will push or hit.
Well, the other day, after one of these disagreements, and after Abigail’s 11 minute time-out, that didn’t work a bit, I gave her an assignment. She was to sit at the kitchen table and write down 10 things she likes about Bella. I was adamant that she would not leave the table until she got it done.
I was so impressed and completely surprised that Abigail cranked it out really quickly. She even threw in an extra compliment for good measure.
1. She cleans when asked.
2 She is kind to others. (not me)
3. She doesn’t quit.
4. She likes cool music.
5. She leaves me alone when I ask, which is almost all the time.
6. She loves to play.
7. She is strong willed.
8. She dresses uniquely.
9. She takes charge in doubt.
10. She loves to take care of everything.
11. She is organized.
Later Abigail admitted to me that the way that she came up with the list was to think of all the things that she didn’t like about Bella and turn them into a compliment. So, when it said, she dresses uniquely, that started out with she dresses awful. She likes cool music was really that Abigail hates her music, etc, etc.
At Abigail’s admission, I could have been defeated, but I realized that even though Abigail thought she had the upper-hand, she didn’t. I had just succeeded with a truly inspired exercise in cognitive therapy. I taught Abigail how to change the way she thinks. Isn’t that what we all have to do to love our enemies?

Fight or Flight

Fight or flight…what do you think? Clowns creep me out. I would definitely never fight a clown. And that is how I am starting this post so that I can use one of the limited pictures from my third back up computer.
LG and I have been discussing this theory of fight or flight lately. As I accused him of using fake sicknesses as a way of avoiding stuff…”that would be a flight technique”, I told him.
For the most part, I didn’t marry a fighter. He avoids contention at all costs, which is a good thing and a bad thing. But, I just love LeGrand. He makes me laugh. He is learning to put up his dukes (as my Grandma Dorothy would say) a little more, which is a good thing because he is an attorney by trade, and for all of my therapy to work, someone needs to put me in my place at times.
Anyhow, back to the fight or flight. LeGrand was explaining this theory to the girls at dinner last night. He had learned in a legal education class that mentally ill people can immediately and easily switch into a fight or flight mode, whereas normally healthy people only do so when in extreme situations. LG questioned the girls after his explanation, “If a big black bear were coming at you, what would you do?” “Run away, or stay and fight it.”
Abigail and Bella didn’t hesitate to say they would run as fast as they can.

Sophia on the other hand is always our imaginative one. She said, “I would throw gummy worms at the bear.”

We all decided unanimously that we need to keep Sophia’s hair blonde the rest of her life, no matter how much peroxide it will take.
Where does she come up with this stuff?

Meet Piggy Piggy.

My kids crack me up.

Here is an overheard conversation today.
Abigail questioned me, “Mom, if we got a pig, do you think it would eat bacon?”
Sophia almost under her breathe, “That’s just wrong.”
Why is that so funny to me?
Maybe it’s the fact that Sophia knows that bacon is from a slaughtered pig.
Or maybe because she so matter of factly protested.
Either way, I am still laughing.