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Its Terrible, Its Awful, Its Unfair……Its a Blessing!

This is not my typical humor filled rant recounting my day.  This is serious.  But I figure you all, my maybe now 60 something readers can stomach it.  Yes, I’m going to talk about God.  Sometimes what we see as a monumental failure, a huge deviation from our plans, a massively unfair blow, is really a blessing in disguise. 

When I lost/quit/was run out of my job last year, I was struck by God’s direct hand in my life.  I had asked Him for direction, where should I be, at home or at school?  Because I love(d) both of those places, but I felt like I couldn’t do either of them as well as I should.  His answer was beyond direct, both in the impossibility of what I was being offered/asked to do at work and in the realization that my daughter was on the way.

I realized today that it goes beyond that.  When the speech therapist was at our house, it dawned on me that even if I had come to some agreement and kept working, I would be quitting now.  Circus Boy #3 had services at the house 3 days this week (one was a make up day).  These are services in which I need to be able to participate.  The speech therapist believes it is childhood apraxia as we thought, and its going to take our attention, focus and love to get him over this little hump.  I couldn’t do that if I was working. Not well.  And you know, there’s a silver lining to his delay, too.  It is giving me a reason to get down on the floor and play with all of them more often, instead of laundry, dishes, etc.  That’s a good thing.  Makes me a better mom.

God is good.

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Back to the Coffee (at the Circus)

I got a wake up call this morning.  No, literally.  Mr. Ringmaster leaves for work really early so he can get some paid overtime hours in and still come home for dinner.  So he calls to wake me up at 6am.  This morning he called at 5:50 which was sad enough, losing 10 minutes of precious sleep, but then he said “I’ve got some bad news.” This was followed by the most regrettable words an otherwise happy but sleep deprived mama will hear first thing in the morning, “The coffee pot is broken.”

Sadness.

But, Circus Boy #3 had come running in and hopped up on my bed for a snuggle, so I wasn’t too devastated.  That is, until I got downstairs and the hard reality of a cold and empty coffee pot was there to greet me. I tried explaining to the ever energetic boys that the coffee pot was broken and they were going to have talk a little slower and stop moving quite so much, but that was met with the deer in a headlight look, a screech and a bolt.  Clearly they were not going to be understanding.

There was much to do right away as the speech therapist was coming first thing, so I turned to facebook.  Once there, my dear friends provided me with a list of ways to make coffee without a coffee pot.  I used the “filter into a tea bag” method, putting coffee in a filter, tying it, and steeping in hot water for awhile.  It was coffee.  Not the best, but still, pretty good.

Mr. Ringmaster also researched and e-mailed me two ways to make coffee on the stove.  I think he was afraid the children would not be changed or fed if I did not get a cup.  Which is really funny because most of the time I drink 50/50 or decaf.  Clearly its a mental thing.  But I do love my coffee.  And I am a creature of habit.  Lack of routine makes me uneasy.

Anyway, the day was saved. The children did eat, got dressed, even brushed their teeth, the dishwasher got unloaded, and laundry started.  The speech therapy paperwork was completed, and the therapy commenced on schedule with an uncooperative two year-old. (Can’t win them all.) And now I’m enjoying a rare moment watching the children play together, without fighting and without me playing referee.

Sometimes even the ringmaster gets a coffee break.

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The Circus Wants to Grow

No! I’m not talking about babies! Heh, there’s enough of that around here.
I’m talking about this blog. I’d like to take it up a notch and officially join the ranks of the “mommy blogger” so to speak.

But I need your help. What should I be doing? How do I get more traffic? What works on this blog and what doesn’t? What do you like reading here? Your comments are appreciated!

Then, thinking off into the future, if I wanted to blog to help pay the bills, what should I be doing?

Thanks a bunch, my 40 followers and 30 something other visitors. Can you also tell me what to cook for dinner, how to fit an allergy shot in today, and fill up that coffee pot?

-The Ringmaster

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Baby Wipes: Circus Tool of Choice

I am so thankful for the good coupons and savvy shopping skills that allow me to purchase baby wipes for very little money.  Because baby wipes will clean just about anything, and by their very nature are obviously safe for children.  I am thankful for this because when the children of this circus get tough (belligerent, disobedient, argumentative, pushy, bossy, or otherwise difficult), the tough get chores.  This morning my base boards got wiped down, the finger prints on the doors got wiped off, spots of dirt on the walls were removed, the dining room chairs were de-stick-ified (stickiness removed), and miscellaneous spots on the floor were wiped up.

From that list, you can probably gauge the kind of morning we have had.   But in case you can’t, here’s a sample:

“BWHAAAAA, WHAAAAA.

Circus boy #1 was knocked over by Circus Boy #2 (they were rough housing a bit).  So naturally, when you have been accidentally knocked over, you must kick a match box car at the offender, and when they protest yell “Well you hurt me!”

Circus Boy #1 was told to go sit in his room.

“No!”

“You don’t have a choice, you can do it yourself, or I can carry you up.”

He is getting awfully heavy.

Once in his room, “If you yell and carry on, and wake up your sister (who was napping) I will close the door.”

Yelling, “I’m not going to stay here.”

“Whaaa, whaaa” (baby).

Great.

Close door.

Circus Boy #1, “I’m going to break this door down!”  Proceeds to kick door.  Then reaches fingers under the door and pulls back, succeeding in bending the door.

“If you break that door, I will use your allowance to buy a new one.”

“Then I will just rip all the money up.”  (He currently has $2.)

Really do not want to buy a new door. Open door, stand looking at scowling child.

What now?  ::sigh::

“I’m calling Daddy!”

“NOOOOOOOO!”

Why does that always work?

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Circus “Bellies”: Mountainous

While driving through Virginia, Circus Boy #2 noted excitedly that the evenly rounded mountains we were driving through looked like “big bellies.”  This is not particularly entertaining, until you realize that he is not actually talking about bellies.

You see, he has female anatomy a little mixed up.  He knew that his baby sister was in mommy’s belly.  He now knows that his baby sister nurses from mommy.  So, with the logic of a three year-old, he decided she nurses from two bellies.  That’s right, my son decided the mountains we were driving through looked like, you guessed it. 

I have tried to explain to him what’s what.  But after the dinner at church where he repeatedly and loudly asked “what are those called again, Mommy?” as he relentlessly pointed, and would not accept my not so discreet attempts to hush him, I decided to just let it go. “Bellies” it has remained. 

So, if you’re around Circus Boy #2 and he mentions a big belly, don’t be too offended.  He’s probably not talking about your mid-section.

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Circus Tricks: Fun Mirrors

There are a lot of rest stops when you travel with four little kids.  And its impossible to make it just a quick stop.  By the time you get the kids out of the car, pottied, diapers changed, and given them something to eat, its time to potty and do diapers again.  Once you stop its pretty much at least an hour set back, and when you’re covering 2000-ish miles, that adds up.

We were attempting a simple gas and potty break, after circus boy announced he had to go potty, and not the stop on the side of the highway kind of potty (not that I support that type of potty break, but Mr. Ringmaster does…).  Anyway, Circus Boy #2 had been brought to the potty while the car was gassed up.  It was a surprisingly clean restroom, so I decided to bring Circus Boy #1 to try as well (trying to avoid the inevitable “I have to go potty” 5 minutes after we’re back in the car.)

All went well, Circus Boy #1 exited the stall turned toward the sinks, and came to face a long floor length mirror.  Having recently become acquainted with the concept of a “fun mirror” at the science museum we visited on our trip, this was cause for further inspection.  Some fun mirrors make your head look big, some make you look tall and skinny, some make you short and round with large feet.  This, mirror, however, was just a regular mirror, and did not distort the image.  He got closer to it, looked at me, and laughed.  “Haha, Mommy!  This mirror makes you look big!”

I’m hoping he meant “tall, skinny, and attractive.”

 

Happy Tuesday!

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S'(ome) More: Circus Classics

My boys love campfires.  No, they don’t sit around the fire and chat, watching the glowing embers and relaxing. (We save that for after bed time…along with a beverage or two…Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me….if you know me, you are laughing now.)  No, they enjoy one thing about campfires, the S’mores.  They were introduced to this delicacy by dear friends of our on last year’s trip north.  Circus Boy #1 even invented the York Peppermint Patty S’more at that time.  Which is, as the title implies, a gooey marshmallow on top of a peppermint patty and sandwiched between two graham crackers, instead of the slab of milk chocolate. 

Anyway, on this year’s trip north our friends again sugared our children (we told them it was ok).  They have the extra sugar variety of marshmallow roasting sticks, which allows the user to toast two marshmallows at once over the camp fire.  Then of course both marshmallows are stuffed with the desired hunk of chocolate into the S’more sandwich. 

After enjoying one of the sticky bundles, Circus Boy #1 asked for another.

“Sure,” I said.  After all, we are on “vacation.”  (If one can call a 2,000 mile road trip with four little kids a vacation.)  “But just use one marshmallow.” 

“Ok,” he says.

Our circus friend, Mr. David, fixed Circus Boy #1 up with a marshmallow on a roasting stick. 

“I need a marshmallow on that side,” said CB1 pointing to the empty tine. 

“Mommy said one marshmallow.”

“Oh yes, just one marshmallow…………oh yes, just one……on each side. See?”

We assured him that was not what I had meant.

“Can you put the chocolate on the cracker for me?”

The chocolate was placed on one piece of the two grahams waiting to do their sandwich duty.

“On each side?”

No.

 

Can’t blame him for trying.