Boys Will Be

... well Boys.
Here are some of the very boyish things they have been up to lately:
Some friends came and took my three older boys to play in the snow while Marc was working one weekend so that I could get a desperately-needed nap. During their snow adventure, the boys finally got to build a mutant snowman. They had drawn pictures of snowmen like this, but now it became a reality. They've never even read "Calvin and Hobbes". I guess boys are just born with ideas like this.

*Note: Roger, our friend pictured with the boys, is the oldest of 5 boys. He totally knows what he is doing.

For Christmas, we got a lot of new very manly dress-up items. They have been a hot item this last week. Here are all the boys dressed as "pirates" which apparently also requires a desert camo vest and a breast plate and shield.

It is fun to watch them act our their pirate play scenarios. Benjamin just runs around with his sword, thrusts it forward in a menacing way and exclaims "Aha!" "Ahaha!" then whacks you with it, giggles and runs away.
David John runs around and sword fights with Gabriel and Elijah until things got too intense for his liking. At this point, he suddenly falls to the floor declaring "I'm dead!" If I believed in reincarnation I would guess that he spent his former life as a possum.  After the declaration of death he assumes some sort of "dead" position. Sometimes this is the fetal position, sometimes this is a dead bug pose with arms and legs in the air and sometimes this means he is spread eagle on the floor. However, regardless of the position, his tongue is almost always lolling out of the corner of his mouth. Tongue lolling is a requirement for any good death scene.
Elijah, after witnessing David John's death inevitably issues a cry of anguish then points his sword dramatically at Gabe and yells, "You killed my brother!" Then he attacks. I keep waiting for him to say something along the lines of, "My name is Elijah! You killed my brother! Prepare to die!" but I guess we haven't shown them The Princess Bride yet.
Gabriel, for his part, always chooses to be the villain. He is definitely the best sword fighter and frequently disarms his brothers. Maybe that's one reason David John keeps dying. Anyway, Gabriel's tag line seems to be "I am going to get you! Bwahahaha!" He also makes a lot of manly grunts and says "Aargh" while fighting.
Frequently, this pretend fighting escalates into something more real and then we have to take a break, but it also provides me a good deal of laughs. I'm pretty sure we could put it on as a dinner theater production.

Wrestling, another favorite past time of our boys. After seeing some of the moves they come up with on their own, I have sworn an oath that they will never ever ever be allowed to see anything along the lines of WWE. The last thing we need is chairs getting involved.

Here are some pictures from yesterday. For a while, I thought they were taking a departure from their testosterone-filled play and exploring their feminine side. They decided to get a group photo of all of their stuffed animals. They spent quite a bit of time carefully arranging and tucking in the animals so that everyone was warm and cozy and so that each animal's face could clearly be seen. It was quite the undertaking. I got these two sweet pictures of the project:

Then, someone yelled "Let's smash it!"

They spent the next half hour wrestling on the couch and pushing each other off of the coffee table onto piles of blankets and stuffed animals which were now on the floor.

Oh my, I hope the world is ready for one more little Ricks. With brothers like these, he is guaranteed to be all boy.

Head Trauma

Last Saturday, I chose to do something brave and good for myself and good for the world. It was a win win win thing to do. Marc was working back to back 24 hour shifts and had arranged for 4 hours of babysitting so that I wouldn't lose my mind. So I decided to go get my hair cut.
This was brave because I hadn't had a real haircut in a very long time and there are always risks inherent to activities involving very sharp scissors, especially very sharp scissors near your head. This was good for me because I had found a few split ends and I was starting to feel just slightly unattractive with those split ends and that whole big belly thing. This was good for the world because I planned to donate my hair to Locks of Love and a happier pregnant woman is always a good thing for the world at large.
I went to a very nice salon which I happened to have a $25 gift certificate for. This meant my haircut was still going to cost me $50 plus tip but I figured it would be the best haircut of my life and they would use all of their magical salon products that would leave my hair soft and shiny for days so it would totally be worth it. I had high hopes of some serious relaxation and a fabulous new look.
Things started out well. I explained to the stylist that I needed twelve inches taken off so I could donate it, and then I wanted it thinned and layered. I also explained that because I was about to have a baby, I really needed enough length left to put it in a ponytail. When you have a new baby, styling your hair in the morning is just not realistic most days. Everyone seemed to be on the same page. The whole salon was excited about doing such a drastic haircut. Twelve inches! They took before pictures and had the stylist pose with her scissors next to my massive ponytail.
Then she cut it off.

Not twelve inches of my massive ponytail. The whole thing. 18 inches of hair gone with one very inexpert snip. Although I couldn't see the back of my head it felt much much too short. I'm guessing basic math isn't covered in hair school? Even very nice hair schools? The stylist was very friendly and chatted while she attacked the rest of my head. When she got finished, she commented, "Well, you don't have much of a ponytail left..." and then turned my chair around. I was speechless. Apparently "not much of a ponytail" meant zero because I couldn't even pull the very top layer back, not even with a barrette. "Ponytail" must not have been a vocabulary word in hair school. I was starting to suspect that maybe she was an impostor and hadn't been to hair school at all. I was tempted to ask to see her license. I was so upset that I left before the shampoo and style which reduced my price to $30. This meant it only cost me $5 out-of-pocket to have my hair butchered and for the first time in my life I did not leave a tip.
I got into my car, burst into tears and drove to my friend Sarah's house. I blubbered my way through the whole story while she inspected my hair. She gave me a hug and said "You have every right to be crying right now." I appreciated the solidarity but despaired at the fact that my hair really was THAT bad. Luckily, Sarah is one of those people who just solves problems. She spent the next two hours fixing my horrible haircut, during which she discovered that my hair is naturally wavy. Who knew? She loaned me a book, some gel and tried to instill confidence that I could and would pull off this new awesome short hairstyle.
I drove home feeling much better but still insecure. Of course, my boys proved very helpful. After I paid the babysitter and he left, Elijah looked at me and said, "Mom, your hair is all wrong. Let me show you." He led me into the bathroom, turned on the light and stood on a stool while we both looked into the bathroom mirror. He then started pointing to various places on my head while saying, "See? It's wrong here, here, here and here. You should not have cut it so short, Mom."
Little boys should not say things like that to pregnant women. It makes them cry. While I was still crying, Gabriel patted my shoulder then added, "Your hair looks weird. How long is it going to look like that? Why did you want to get it cut weird?"
Little boys should just not be allowed to be around pregnant women right after they get their hair cut. I think that would be a good policy. Pregnant women who get their hair cut should check into a hotel overnight before seeing any little boys... especially little boys with hair critiques.
The good news is, the sun did rise the next morning and I did my hair and went to church. I received many many kind compliments and although Marc didn't recognize me at first when he arrived at church straight from work, he said "You're so cute!" I love that man.

Now I am a week out from what I think can fairly be called my "head trauma" and still trying to master the ways of short, wavy hair. Some days I feel like I am totally rocking this hair thing, ya know, like Meg Ryan.

http://www.tapeteos.pl/details.php?image_id=1780

Other days, I look in the mirror and feel like I look less awesome, more like a boy.... specifically Hugh Grant on a bad hair day.

http://thesocialvip.com/hugh-grant

Over all, I am trying to be grateful for this new adventure in hair. Maybe 2013 is just going to be the year of the new for me. New hair, new baby, new job in a new place. I am just hoping my other "new" experiences won't be quite as traumatic.

Snow!

After a practically snow-free winter last year, we had our first good snow of the season just a couple of days after Christmas. Somehow, I found the energy today to dig out all the snow clothes and suit everybody up. My three bigger boys had a great time, but we learned that Benjamin does not appreciate snow. He was dismayed at the way the snow stuck to his gloves and clung to his boots. He spent his time using his hands to brush the snow off of his boots, coat and hat and then would cry when he saw his gloves were now snowy again. Snow, it seems, is something only to be prodded with a snow shovel from a safe distance or looked at as someone pulls you around in the sled. He did smile a few times in the sled but I never caught it in a photo. Whenever the sled stopped he would say "Go, go." When I finally decided that I was done pulling the sled around and told him "all finished" he cried until David John took pity on him and started pulling the sled around. What a sweet boy.
We also learned that four is definitely the maximum number our sled will hold so we'll need a second sled for next winter when we have 5 boys.
Gabriel and Elijah teamed up in an epic snowball fight against the neighbor's house (Sorry Chris and Danielle!). I think the house won that round, but they've definitely weakened its defenses. I'm sure the next fight will be a different story. (For the record, I made a strict rule they could only throw at the bricks, not the windows.)

O Christmas Tree

...o Christmas tree, how lovely are thy battle droids.
So, I did get our Christmas tree up but I never actually made it to the decorating with ornaments stage and based on my huge to do list before we leave for Grandma's house it isn't going to happen. No worries, the boys have stepped up to the plate and provided decorations of their own making.... primarily star wars pictures they have colored and cut out of their coloring pages. Also, somewhere in the branches are some mutant snowmen with unusual numbers of eyes and appendages. Our tree is sure to get anyone in the holiday spirit. May the force be with you.

It's Complimentary

Last week, we went to our last 'sniff 'sniff Cleveland Clinic Pediatric Christmas party. This year, they held it in the rainforest house at the zoo. We had a fabulous time with all of our friends and enjoyed the great food as well as the cool animals. It was fun to be there at night, different animals were active. The bats were fascinating to watch and we actually saw the chameleon walking around and actively changing colors. It was amazing!

We've enjoyed these parties each of the three years we've been able to go, but one thing that is always a little bit stressful is the fact that they are formal dress. Two of the years, I've been pregnant. Pregnancy and formal wear is a special combination. This year, I was able to just put on a fancy dress that is stretchy even though it is definitely not a maternity dress. I felt pretty good in it and received lots of kind compliments from Marc's colleagues about how nice I looked. However, the ultimate compliment came a couple of days later when our friend Cata approached Marc at work and expressed that she was concerned that I had not gained enough pregnancy weight based on the way I looked at the party. Marc gave a very diplomatic answer (fyi I have gained more than enough pregnancy weight, I always do) something like, "she's gained an appropriate amount, don't worry". When Marc told me what Cata said, it made my day. That was the best thing a woman 31 weeks along could hear. Cata was already on my list of favorite people, but her name has now been chiseled in stone, cast in iron, seared on for life. I think I will consider that my first Christmas present of the season. :)

If the Socks Fit...

This is a photo taken after church one Sunday when I was a tired grump. Sundays with my four little guys plus my giant belly can be a little rough sometimes. When I propped my feet up, I started laughing because they looked just like the feet of the Wicked Witch of the East. If only I'd been wearing ruby red slippers, or even silver ones (as they are in the book). Of course, I was already pretty grouchy. Perhaps wearing slippers would have pushed me over the edge from witchy to actual witch and caused my face to turn green. My likelihood for being involved in accidents related to random houses falling from the sky might also have increased. It was probably a good thing I just had the socks.

A Party, Me Hearties

As previously mentioned, the boys turned 5 on November 26th. I decided that this year I was going to get it together and throw them an honest-to-goodness party: friends, games, favors, decorations, presents, the whole thing. I'm sure my experience was compounded by the fact that this particular party took place in the midst of the holiday season which is a busy time in general, but planning it gave me a bad case PPSD: Party Planning Stress Disorder.
First, there was a theme to consider. The boys made that easy, they both wanted a pirate party. Done. So, I googled pirate party ideas. Don't do it. That way lies madness. You may find yourself, as I did, gaping open mouthed at blog after blog of elaborate ideas illustrated in gorgeous full-detail photographs. Now, there is nothing wrong with really awesome parties and mothers who throw them except for the fact that I knew, deep down, that I was not one of those mothers. I felt the guilt and panic rising as I researched each aspect of throwing a party. Didn't my boys deserve to deliver indivualized ship-in-a-bottle invitations to each party guest? Were other mothers expecting to receive a detailed treasure map complete with burned edges and other aging techniques with clues that would help them find the pertinent party information hidden in the map itself? Was I a bad mother because the invitation ideas alone made me feel weak in the knees and gave me the strong urge to throw my hands up in surrender before I had even begun?
Luckily, I pulled myself together, muttered "aargh", ate an orange to stave off scurvy and decided to forge ahead. I found some great (and free!) invitations online and had the boys make home-made envelopes with piratical drawings on them which we hand-delivered to their friends.

They talked me into inviting 9 friends total. I feel a little bit guilty confessing some relief when only 7 could come. That still made 11 little people running around our house, which was plenty.

The party lasted 2 hours which meant we had 8 activities plus time to eat the cupcakes and open presents. I wish I had taken pictures of each of the activities before they were either destroyed or taken down if only to encourage other moms who may not have it in them to throw an immaculate party. Things were definitely homespun but the kids didn't care at all.  I have some great pictures from the party but unfortunately I can only post some cropped selections since I don't have the permission of everyone's parents to post pictures online. So, here are the details of what we did with a smattering of pictures. You can read it all or just scroll through the pics.

As the guests arrived, we had them decorate a brown paper bag for storing all their loot. We offered markers, pirate stickers, letter stickers and other miscellaneous stickers. They really got into it and got to put a sheet of pirate stickers in their bag to take home.

Once everyone arrived, we started in on the games. First up was "Walk the Plank" in which our little pirates had to walk across some treacherous 2x4s without falling off. Those who fell were eliminated and each round got harder. There was walk forward, walk sideways, hop, walk backward and hop on one foot. At the end of each game, the winner got to open a treasure chest and help distribute the loot. They also got to wear the captain's hat during the next game. The first treasure chest held bandannas.

 

Next up was "Pin the Eye-patch on the Pirate". I made this game by getting a large piece of felt and using a sharpie to freehand a pirate face on it. My boys informed that he looked like a pirate cowboy. I guess the hat left a little something to be desired. I cut eye-patches out of different colors of felt and numbered them wit my handy sharpie. The static cling was enough to hold the eye-patches on which means we avoided having to use any tape or pins. The treasure was, of course, pirate eye-patches to wear.

Our fourth activity was a huge hit. We taped off two roughly boat-shaped areas on the floor and split into two teams. Each person was given two "cannonballs" (these were large black yarn pom-poms that I made) to throw into the other boat. We played pirate music during which everyone could throw as many cannonballs into the other boat as they could (You were allowed to pick up the ones that landed in your boat and throw them back. I realize that this is not very historically accurate.) and when the music stopped we counted how many were left in each boat. The treasure was rub-on pirate tattoos. I am embarrassed to say that some remnants of these tattoos are still left on some of my boys upper-arms. I guess they don't scrub as hard as they should during baths.... maybe it's on purpose.

Game five was very much like musical chairs except everyone had to run and jump on an "island" (large pieces of newspaper) when the music stopped. More than one person could be on an island as long as no part of their foot was touching the floor, lest they be eaten by seamonsters. Treasure consisted of miniature spyglasses. (A note about the spyglasses: I bought them from Oriental Trading after reading a comment from a reviewer that they were small but actually did magnify. What the reviewer meant to say was that the plastic lenses were warped and so made things appear differently. Magnify? not so much. The kids loved them though and at 50 cents each, who can really complain?)

Then it was on to the treasure map beanbag toss. I made a large treasure map (Benjamin destroyed it immediately after the party.) and sewed some beanbags out of skull and crossbone fabric. The goal was to get your beanbag to land on the X-marks-the-spot. The treasure chest held canvas pouches for the next activity the...

Treasure Hunt! We created a small tropical island upstairs where some unfortunate pirates had lost all of their treasure before coming to a sticky end. Their deaths probably involved those vicious looking snakes. Everyone got to fill their pouches with chocolate coins.

While I got the cupcakes and snacks ready, Marc helped the party-goers play one more game. He tied a cannonball (this time they were black balloons) to each person's ankle and the goal was to stomp on other people's without getting your own "blown up". As each person was eliminated they got to come sit down for a snack which included pirate bananas, pirate cupcakes and goldfish. I had briefly entertained the idea of making a cupcake cake, but again, the sheer elaborateness of the designs I saw made me decide that pirate flags were good enough for me. Gabriel and Elijah were excited about the "solid gold" birthday candles. We also had a choice of green "grog" Hawaiian punch and blue "ocean water" Hawaiian punch to drink.

Afterward, I vowed that I would never again use red icing on anything. One of the moms came back a little early before Benjamin was all cleaned up and thought he was covered in blood.

When everyone had their fill, the boys opened presents while Marc made awesome balloon swords for everyone to take home along with their loot bags. In retrospect, Marc wishes he would have made cutlasses instead of the fancy pommels since a cutlass would have been more accurate. No one was complaining. Several moms commented that if, you know, this doctor thing didn't work out he had a future in balloons.

The boys loved all of their gifts, but I have to admit that I was gratified that when they opened the monster hoodies that had cost me hours of hand-stitching and some frustration since I am not at all a seamstress, both boys put them on and didn't take them off for the rest of the day.

I know that I called my mom a couple of times during all of this planning and doing for the party to tell her thank you for all of her hard work that I'm sure I didn't appreciate nearly enough as a child but I want to say it again. Mom: you are a saint. Thank you for the wonderful birthday parties I had when I was little. Party planning is not for the faint of heart. I'd like to see Black Beard try it.