My Life - Defined

Find Me A Hole...Or Some Super Glue

2009-07-02T20:48:00.000-07:00

I know that it wasn't long ago that I swore that I wouldn't be heading back to Walmart ever again after my sweet, little Annie brought me to my knees in embarrassment, but if truth be told, I've entered those doors at least 50 times since I made that promise.

And on that 5oth visit, my clan was determined to embarrass me even deeper!

It almost seemed as if it was all part of their master plan. You see, my girls have entered a phase where frilly skirts and dresses are their, "threads of choice," and they talked me into toting them down to Walmart so they could pick out some fabric to make them some skirts.

Because my children easily engage in conversation with anyone and everyone, they quickly traded in the audience of the nice lady who was looking through the pattern books, to an audience of the two employees who were working at cutting the fabric. If I knew ahead of time, which way the conversation was going to go, I would have only chosen to buy 1/8 of a yard of one fabric, rather than 5 yards of five different fabrics.

In less time than it took the employee to cut one of the pieces of fabric, each of my four ~~rugrats~~ darlings had blurted out statements that were totally unfounded. Well, most of the statements were, anyways.

I'm not even sure of the question that was asked to intiate such conversation, and I was waiting for the hidden camera to make it's sudden appearance.

Angel began with, "Our mom doesn't even want us!"

Isaac followed up in confirmation with, "Yah! She screams at us ALL.THE.TIME!"

And as if it was relevant to the previous digs, Bella blurted out, "Yah....My mom had 2 miscarriages!"

Was it pent up anger spewing from my kids' lips? I'll admit that I have perfected the Art of ~~Screaming~~ Loud Talking, but to suggest that I "don't even want them?" That is utterly obsurd. While the employee fidgeted with a computer malfunction, instead of climbing under the fabric cutting table, I loudly explained to my kids how very much I wanted them.

With wide grins, our two audience members tried to comfort me. I'm sure they were worried about the loss of color from my face, and the pharmacy was a much safer departement for my needs than the fabric department at that moment in time.

Or maybe the hardware department would have better suited my needs. Had I first bought a tube of super-glue and glued those cute lips shut, I never would have had the problem in the first place!

Apples, And More Apples

2009-06-17T15:04:00.000-07:00

I agreed to picking apples at my dad's house last Friday after the kids got out of school.

I had no idea we would also be picking up "Road Apples!"

Mini Money Managers

2009-05-21T21:14:00.000-07:00

Mark is bound and determined to raise children as financially responsible as he is!

Which is why he toted the trio down to the bank last Saturday morning to open up their first bank accounts...besides their college funds.

Which is also why he insists that every penny they get lands directly into their Ziploc bag full of money.

Which is why Isaac came to me the other morning pleading with me to buy him some Trix yogurt. Which was interesting to me, seeing as Isaac's requests are usually for Bakugans or Legos.

And what is the relationship between yogurt and bank accounts you may be asking? It went something like this:

"Mom? Can you please buy me a package of Trix yogurt please?"

Because I was in the middle of getting myself ready for the day, I quickly appeased him and told him I would be happy to buy him some Trix yogurt next time I went to the store.

"Do you know why I want to buy Trix yogurt? They're giving away $10,000 and I want to try to win some money. Do you know what I would do with the money, Mom? I would give some to you and some to Daddy! Would you please buy TWO packages of Trix yogurt, please?"

After glancing up to see his genuinely sweet look, I wanted to rush out and buy him a whole case of Trix yogurt!

Questions to Soon

2009-05-06T12:44:00.000-07:00

Maybe I'm forgetting , because it was 29 years ago that I was a kindergartner. Or maybe I'm just being naive because it is my clan that I am talking about, but I don't recall questioning my parents about the things my children are questioning me about.

The other day, Angel began to inquire about all sorts of marital matters.

"Mom? Can two people live together even if they aren't married?"

I tried to explain that people do live with their significant others, but that it was not right in God's eyes.

And then she took it a step further.

"Well if they can't live together, can they still have babies?"

I was SO afraid that the next question was going to be, "Where do babies come from?" and I'm absolutely, positively sure, I am NOT ready to answer that question!

I'm not 100% sure where this is coming from, but I have my thoughts about who the child is.

And I'm pretty sure it's not the same child who taught my kids a new term for testicles when he happily wrote and illustrated in his journal yesterday, "The baseball hit me in the nuggets."

And I'm pretty sure when I was in kindergarten 29 years ago, that nuggets were the chicken pieces we ordered at the Mc Donald's drive-thru window!

What is this world coming to?

Since the last time I posted...

2009-04-25T21:07:00.000-07:00

Angel has whined and complained numerous times about putting on knee-high tube socks prior to numerous t-ball games!

Isaac has morphed into Indiana Jones.

Angel, Isaac, and Bella debuted in their kindergarten school play, "The Three Billy Goat's Gruff," as a butterfly, a bumble bee, and Fanny Goat.

Over 100 Easter eggs were collected containing enough candy to cost us over $1,500 at the pediatric dentist.

My ~~sassy, back-talking~~ sweet, little Annie celebrated her fourth birthday with a Teddy Bear party theme. (And at this party I confessed to all of the parents that when I found out I was pregnant with her, just ten months after giving birth to triplets, I ~~screamed in terror~~ wept internally at the thought of another little body to be responsible for.)

We took a small trip to Knott's Berry Farm and Palm Springs with some friends who will probably never ask us to travel ANYWHERE-TOGETHER-EVER-AGAIN with them after realizing the chaos that ensues when traveling with the Kamahi Clan!

The girls begged for make-up and curls and I gladly obliged!

Mark and I enjoyed an evening at The Old Spaghetti Factory downtown, sans children!

I escorted Angel, Isaac, and Annie to the movies to watch "Monsters vs. Aliens," and had a hard time dishing out the $48.00 it cost to sit in the theater for an hour and a half, UNTIL I saw my children sporting the super-cute glasses that brought the movie to life in 3-D! (Bella was left behind due to the fact that she was paying up for a consequence she earned after taking 3 swings at her father in a complete fit-of-rage!)

Needless to say, we've been BUSY!!!

No More Walmart

2009-03-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

Many people choose not to shop at Walmart for many different reasons.

They put the little guys out of business.

The quality of their products are inferior.

They skimp when it comes to paying their employees.

And the list goes on....

Prior to yesterday, I was an avid Walmart shopper. The greeter at the door of our local store welcomed me with a smile at least three times a week. I was happy to shop there, and they were happy to take in my cash. That was, prior to yesterday.

I didn't jump on the bandwagon to support the previously mentioned concerns.

No, my sweet, darling daughter, who competes with her oldest sister in holding the title of, "Gift for Gab," failed to keep her thoughts to herself, not once, but two times yesterday afternoon.

While perusing the hair accessory isle, we were passed by an employee who was in a wheelchair. I knew the comments were coming when I observed Annie ~~blatantly staring~~ closely observing the employee. And then, the dialogue began, in Annie's ~~obnoxiously loud~~ clearly audible voice.

"Mom. He's in a wheelchair."

"Yes he is, Annie. Some people have to use wheelchairs to get around."

"Mom. He has to be in a wheelchair. I think that he's broken."

With a smirk and a shush, I whisked her away, paid for my goods, and headed to Taco Bell, where Annie added insult to injury.

Because the Taco Bell is adjacent to the Walmart, many of the Walmart employees dine there for lunch. On this particular day, one of the mechanics from the Tire Lube and Express chose to, "Think Outside the Bun." directly across from where Annie and I were doing the same thing.

This mechanic from the Tire Lube and Express was born with female anatomy, but for an almost four year old, her outward appearance proved otherwise. The shaved head and masculine posture made it clear to Annie that this person was indeed a "boy." I'm not sure why I chose to argue the point with her, but I did, continuously rebuttaled by Annie's ~~obnoxiously loud~~ clearly audible voice.

"Mom. Even Walmart workers eat at Taco Bell. Like that boy sitting right there." (pointing definitively at the woman sitting across from us.)

"Annie, that's not a boy. It is a girl."

Thinking I must certainly be confused about who she is referring to, she points her finger a bit firmer and raises her voice just a wee bit louder. "No Mom. That BOY sitting RIGHT THERE!"

"It's not a boy, Annie, it's a girl."

"No mom. That boy who works at Walmart is a BOY!"

I had to remind myself that I am an adult, and there was really no reason to prove to her that the boy was indeed a girl.

I'm convinced that the greeter at the door of the local Walmart will no longer greet me with a smile. I imagine him with a snap shot photo of my daughter with strick instructions to keep her away.

A Gift for Gab

2009-03-09T16:04:00.000-07:00

I have no problem admitting that I have a gift for gab! I love to talk to people... my friends, my neighbors, or perfect strangers who are willing to engage in conversation with me. More than one of my friends, on more than one occasion, has teased me that I could make conversation with a wall. Give me five minutes with another individual, and I will know everything about them--I'm not afraid to ask questions! It seems that I have passed this gift on to one of my children.

My dear Angel treats school as a social hour, or social hours, plural. She enjoys very much, talking to her classmates. So much so, that she has been relocated to many different locations in her classroom. I've walked into her classroom numerous times, only to find that the spot she sat in the day before is not the same spot she will sit in today!

Like her mother, she does not discriminate who she will talk to. Baby, peer, adult, boy, girl, animal....they're all fair game to her.

Because I can fully relate to her need for gab, it's hard to come down hard on her for it. Maybe I should just cancel her Spanish class and piano lessons and enroll her in an etiquette class?

Sand Has New Meaning

2009-02-17T19:15:00.001-08:00

It wasn't an easy decision for me to convert the kids' extra large sand box into, well, a sandbox.

When we had the yard landscaped, we had a pretty large corner of the yard made into a play area for the kids. At the time, I was not able to approve sand in the sandbox, rather I chose to fill the area with hard pieces of bark, because by golly, bark would be less likely to find it's way into pockets, cuffs of pants, or in between the millions of strands of hair on each of my children's head.

When the bark began to age and splinter and find it's way under finger nails and skin, I mustered up the courage to put sand where it had always belonged. As expected, since that fateful day when we emptied fifty plus bags of playground sand into the area, I have been sweeping it off the porch, sweeping it out of the house, and washing it out of crevices in the body that I will not describe in detail.

So when a family from the kids' school suggested a family trip to the desert, I was less than thrilled to entertain the idea. If sixty cubic feet of sand in my backyard makes me as anxious as a caterpillar feels in a schoolyard full of children, what would miles and miles of sand make me feel like? Probably more like that same caterpillar under the lens of a microscope on a ~~hot~~, scorching, sunny day!

None-the-less, I committed my family to the President's-Weekend-Family-Desert-Trip. We had a trailer delivered to the spot we called home for three nights, and roughly four days. Although the trailer was delivered more than 8 hours late, and the cleanliness of it resembled that of a bachelor pad that housed 4 grown men, it was a warm place to rest our heads after a long day in the sand and sun. It was no job my two canisters of Lysol Anti-Bacterial Wipes couldn't handle!

I went into the weekend with absolutely no unreasonable expectations, which is why being out of my "comfort zone," was more than manageable, as proven in the following ways:

My heart rate didn't increase one bit when one hour before arrival time, on the side of the highway just east of El Centro, the light on the dashboard reported a flat tire on the front, passenger side. I was just happy that Mark was the one standing outside changing it while being pelted with wind that was probably nearly 40 degrees.

For four weeks prior to the trip I was told that we would only have 35 gallons of water at our disposal. Thirty five gallons of water for four days to wash up dishes for a family of six, wash 12 hands an indefinite number of times, wash six faces at least once in the morning and once before bed, etc, etc. I was relieved when I was informed that 35 gallons was in fact 50 gallons.

I was completely at ease with the fact that my kids spent more time this past weekend laying in the dirt than they did standing in it.

I did not blink an eye when my kids chose to eat red licorice and Blow-Pops for breakfast instead of cereal and bananas. Nor did I blink when their dinner consisted of good 'ol camfire smores!

I didn't cringe at the fact that my girls never once wore a hair bow while we were there!

I was fine with the fact that they didn't once hit the sack at their usual time of 7:30 pm. The fun was still going until at least 9:30 or 10:00 pm!

It was my impression, by the number of times that I was asked, "Are you having a good time?" that no one expected me to enjoy myself. With the company that I was in, my water tank could have held zero gallons, and I would have been A-okay!

My family got to make lasting memories with great friends, that would have never been made had we not agreed to this trip. Sand will forever have new meaning for me! Bring it on!

My Hunny Bunny

2009-02-04T10:30:00.000-08:00

I guess I'm not the only one who thinks my little boy is the cutest boy around! Apparently he has some admirers in his class as well!

The other evening, while chit chatting with my girls about when their next play date with their girlfriends will be, Isaac piped in with a look of concern.

"Mom, please don't ever let Kylie Jo come to our house to play!"

Being that Isaac is friendly with everyone in his class, I questioned his request.

"Why don't you want Kylie Jo to come to our house to play?"

"Because, Mom. Today she told me I was her Hunny Bunny."

I could do nothing more than grab him in my arms and squeeze him tight and think of a nice way to let Kylie Jo know that she was wrong....

He will ALWAYS be MY Hunny Bunny!

Parenting 101

2009-01-09T08:53:00.000-08:00

Since I already spilled my guts in my previous entry about my nagging guilt, I figure I must proceed.

It is a common occurrence that I get extremely unwarranted compliments on my mothering skills.

For instance, at my niece's birthday party a couple of months ago, a friend of my sister-in-law informed me that I am, "such an easy-going mom."

"You are so calm and relaxed for having triplets plus one." She explained that her sister in Mexico City has triplets and she is always stressed out and panicked about things.

Because I believe that telling the truth is always the best policy, and because my all-knowing mother and step-father heard the compliment, I swallowed hard a few times and then came clean.

I admitted that I am very good at keeping a calm front and that I have nearly perfected the art of making others believe that I have it all under control at ALL times!

If only this sweet woman with the kind compliment could have seen the incident that took place in a very busy restaurant just a short month ago, she would surely retract her words!

In typical Annie fashion, she woke from a short slumber with a chip on her shoulder. Maybe it was due to the discomfort of sleeping in a clothing store shopping cart, or maybe it was because the line to check-out was a miserable 20 minutes long due to last minute Christmas shoppers. None-the-less, she carried a chip!

Because a bean and cheese burrito with sour cream sounded like the perfect cure-all, we pulled into a local mexican restaurant for lunch. After placing our order, Annie informed me through her still falling tears, that she wanted fruit punch to drink instead of the water I ordered for her.

The whole room began to close in on me as the altercation escalated and her voice became raised. I could hear burritos, tostadas, and enchiladas falling to their plates as the other patrons of the restaurant watched to see how I was going to handle this noisy situation.

Because I have taken enough child development classes to know proper techniques for dealing with children, I got down on my knees so that I could speak with her at her level. Through clenched teeth housed inside a beat red face, I informed her that if she didn't stop her ranting immediately, I would take her outside and swat her bottom and sit her in the car until she was quiet!

When she wouldn't conform, the many strategies I'd learned in child development classes immediately left my repetoire! With fingers ~~gently~~ firmly placed around her sweet little neck, I escorted her outside and swatted her bottom as I had promised.

Little did I know that a professor of child development would cross my path while I was laying down the law.

You see, a construction worker who had the same hankering for Mexican food that afternoon happened to walk out the door as my hand met Annie's butt. He proceeded to walk the 10 yards to the corner of the parking lot where his work truck was parked. I'm pretty sure he was putting some space between himself and me, before he decided to butt into my situation.

Before closing his door after sitting down inside, he shouted across to me, "Hey lady! You could use some parenting classes."

With my blood pressure already elevated to a level that was surely capable of causing a heart attack, I turned my wrath on him.

"Excuuuuse me?"

"You could really use some parenting classes. She's just a child."

And as if I really cared about his humble opinion, I questioned, "So what? You think I should have left her inside that crowded restaurant and let her ruin everyone's quiet meal with her screaming?"

"I don't care, but you never hit a child."

My generally non-confrontational personality went on vacation as quickly as my child development strategies did just a few minutes earlier, and I yelled back at ~~one hundred~~ a few octaves higher, "I never asked for your opinion. It's none of your business how I discipline my children. Why don't you get in your car and get out of here!"

And as if he was trying to prove himself the "Master of Parenting," he informed me that he had three children at home. Did that mean he had three children he never spanked? Or three children he never raised his voice to? Or three children that he parented perfectly for however many years they had been on this planet? I had no idea.

"Big wow," I replied. "I have four."

Rubbing salt in the wound, he came back with, "Well, you sure don't do a very good job!"

I'm pretty sure the anger on my face caused him to run for safety. It was for his own good that he got in his car and drove away because I was just about to unleash my wrath on him. His would not be a swift swat on the butt, rather it would have been a closed-knuckle fist straight to his face.

All of this over a little girl named Annie, who woke up grumpy, in typical Annie fashion!

Just a minute....

2009-01-08T20:46:00.001-08:00

I would love to be able to say that my lack of posts is due to the fact that I have been letting other things go in order to make more time to play with my kids. That is not exactly the case and it is the source of much guilt for me.

I am the queen of...

"Wait just a minute."

"I'll be with you when I am done doing this."
"Give me two seconds."

"I have to get this done first."

All of these referring to things such as:

Folding laundry.

Putting laundry away.

Organizing a pantry.
Organizing a linen closet.
Organizing a playroom.

All things that are already probably overly organized for a normal person, but not well enough organized for me. All things that are much less important than playing with my kids.

Does it really matter that all the labels on the canned goods are facing out?

Or that all the pants are buttoned before throwing them into the laundry basket?

Is it really necessary that the toys be cleaned up the moment the kids are done playing with them?

Or that the floor under their eating table be swept up the moment they walk away from a meal?

I know that all of these things are COMPLETELY unnecessary, but my brain cannot wrap around the concept.

I am the queen of "Sweating the small stuff," and I can't figure out how to fix the problem.

Especially when I am suffering from PMS!

Why do I care about all of these things? I really couldn't tell you.

It's just part of my genetic make-up. Me in a disorganized house is like a fish out of water. I flop about trying to survive when I'm in the midst of disarray.

And then, as if everyone knows I am struggling with this issue, I get an email like this to thump me on the head:

A man came home from work late, tired and irritated, to find his 5-year old son waiting for him at the door.

SON: 'Daddy, may I ask you a question?'

DAD: 'Yeah sure, what it is?' replied the man.

SON: 'Daddy, how much do you make an hour?'

DAD: 'That's none of your business. Why do you ask such a thing?' the man said angrily.

SON: 'I just want to know. Please tell me, how much do you make an hour?'

DAD: 'If you must know, I make $50 an hour.'

SON: 'Oh,' the little boy replied, with his head down. 'Daddy, may I please borrow $25?'

The father was furious, 'If the only reason you asked that is so you can borrow some money to buy a silly toy or some other nonsense, then you march yourself straight to your room and go to bed. Think about why you are being so selfish. I don't work hard everyday for such childish frivolity.'

The little boy quietly went to his room and shut the door.The man sat down and started to get even angrier about the little boy's questions. How dare he ask such questions only to get some money? After about an hour or so, the man had calmed down , and started to think: Maybe there was something he really needed to buy with that $25.00 and he really didn't ask for money very often. The man went to the door of the little boy's room and opened the door.

'Are you asleep, son?' He asked.

'No daddy, I'm awake,' replied the boy.

'I've been thinking, maybe I was too hard on you earlier' said the man. 'It's been a long day and I took out my aggravation on you. Here's the $25 you asked for.'

The little boy sat straight up, smiling.

'Oh, thank you daddy!' he yelled. Then, reaching under his pillow he pulled out some crumpled up bills. The man saw that the boy already had money, started to get angry again. The little boy slowly counted out his money, and then looked up at his father.

'Why do you want more money if you already have some?' the father grumbled.

'Because I didn't have enough, but now I do,' the little boy replied. 'Daddy, I have $50 now. Can I buy an hour of your time? Please come home early tomorrow. I would like to have dinner with you.'

The father was crushed. He put his arms around his little son, and he begged for his forgiveness.

And just the other day my Isaac asked me to put a deck of cards into the box for him and I automatically replied while folding a shirt out of the drier, "Sure, Isaac. Set it right there and I'll do it in a second."

Twenty minutes later he returned to the laundry room to retrieve his boxed cards, only to find them still scattered about. He scouted me out to ask me, "Mom? Do you ever really listen to what I say? I asked you nicely to help me put my cards away and you didn't do it."

Guilty. I'm guilty as charged by my 5 year old son. And by my 5 year old daughters and my 3 1/2 year old daughter. Guilty!

But tomorrow is a new day and this is a new year.

I plan to spend more time in 0-9, letting the small stuff go, and truly enjoying the blessings that have been entrusted to me!

I'm working and telling the laundry, the floors, the bedrooms, this whole house,

"Wait just minute."

"I'll be with you when I'm done playing with my kids."

"Give me 5 minutes."

"I have to enjoy my kids first!"

Minutes turn to hours, hours to days, and days to years. It is all time that can never be replayed and I'm going to work diligently on cherishing every-single-moment!

Creative Compliment

2008-12-15T12:54:00.000-08:00

I'm still chuckling about the compliment my sweet daughter Angel paid me yesterday!

Standing at the sink doing dishes, she came up to me, and in the most sincere voice said, "Mom, you are so beautiful!"

While trying to express my thanks, she continued...

"You are even more beautiful than a pig!"

After giggling out a thank-you to her, she questioned the humor.

"What's so funny Mom? I didn't say you were AS beautiful AS a pig...I said you were MORE beautiful than a pig!"

My husband would have received a swift kick in the pants for this compliment, but my sweet Angel, she got a great big bear hug!!!

My Sensitive Gentleman

2008-11-25T20:41:00.000-08:00

So today I was informed by a few women that I indeed, had a "sensitive gentleman" as my husband.

He brings me flowers out of the blue, you may be thinking.

He turns off the television in order to listen carefully and intently when I pour my heart out about what is bothering me, you may be thinking.

He suggests that I get out without children in order to recharge my batteries, you may be thinking.

He wakes up early to get the kids ready for school when I am ~~blinded by an ocular migraine~~ feeling under the weather, you may be thinking.

Or you may be thinking that he pops a load of laundry into the washing machine when he notices that the darks are tumbling from the laundry basket.

Your thinking is all wrong.

The women who informed me that I am married to a sensitive gentleman, were the sweet nurses that were taking care of my husband today at the surgical center where he had a hernia repaired.

The sensitivity that they were referring to was his sensitivity to anything relating to medical procedures. Little did they know, I was already aware of the fact that I hand-picked a sensitive gentleman.

I wasn't at all surprised to be summoned from the waiting room by the pre-op nurse, requesting that I help to calm my sensitive gentleman.

It wasn't anything I didn't expect, walking in to find him drained of any color and soaked with sweat from head to toe. Like oil and water, my sensitive gentleman and IV's, or any needles for that matter, simply do not mix.

Nor does he do well with just the thought of what the doctor is going to do to him...that's enough to erase the pigment from his skin and make him weak in the knees, as well.

I am truly married to a SENSITIVE GENTLEMAN!

One that I overheard explaining to his children the other day that his stomach was going to be stapled closed. (He has a one inch incision sealed together with Dermabond. Insert clip art of a cardboard induced paper cut and you get his wound.)

One that lay in bed behind closed doors, fifteen feet away from me, when my cell phone began ringing downstairs. By the time I got to it, it was done ringing, flashing a RESTRICTED NUMBER message. Upon returning to the computer, my phone began ringing again. Running just a bit faster down the stairs, risking life and limb, I got to it in time. If I didn't just get this cell phone, I would have chucked it out the kitchen window, for the voice on the other end was the voice of my sensitive gentleman, a mere fifteen feet away from where I had originally been sitting, requesting that I open the bedroom door to let the cat out! And because I know I would never find an alternate husband willing to take on my four children and myself, I refrained from throwing him out the second story window as well.

Before I head to bed to rest up for tomorrow's recovery and rehabilitation procedures, I'm going to google the relationship between hernia repair and decision-making. Seems there is some correlation...my sensitive gentleman has needed me to make every decision on what he should be putting in his stomach!

So we've got the whole sensitivity thing a bit mixed up and I tease him relentlessly about it...but my sensitive gentleman produces good-looking kids! I'll give him that!

You Can be Pretty Sure...

2008-11-06T12:25:00.000-08:00

that a child was born into a Republican household when you can hear the following inquiries and comments.

While playing with his toys the other day, Isaac paused and questioned me after great thought, "Mom? Are flaming liberals the worst kind?"

I responded, "I don't know Isaac. Why do you ask?"

His reply. "Because Daddy said they were!"

And even before all of the recent political conversations buzzing about, Isaac brought out one of his flame shaped Lego pieces and cheerfully exclaimed, "Look Mom. I have found a flaming liberal!"

And the questions have been flooding in since the election of Barack Obama. While driving to school yesterday morning, Isaac had a concerned look on his face. I could tell he was contemplating an issue. Just as a I was about to ask him what it was he was thinking about, he questioned, "Mom? Is Obama going to steal money from us, too?"

And as if she was disgusted by the question, Annie replied, "No, Isaac! He doesn't even know where we live!"

It's nearly impossible to explain politics to a child!

But you can be pretty sure that a child is being raised in a household with parents who hold the traditional positions within the home when you hear a child exclaim the following:

Upon finishing his dinner, my husband rinsed his dish before putting it down in the sink. (Which even that task is unheard of, even after making that request for the past 10+ years!)

Angel happened to walk by and see Mark doing this. She fell under a spell of shock and commented, "Mom!!! Daddy is doing the dishes!!! I have NEVER seen a boy doing dishes before!!!"

I guess you could call my children Conservative, Republican, Un-Liberated Little Kids! And that's a title I'm completely at peace with!

Ten Things I Know...

2008-10-29T15:38:00.000-07:00

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Annie

1. Your conception was more unbelievable than people claiming Elvis is still alive.

2. It seems that you believe your umbilical chord is still attached--you never stray further than arms distance away from me.

3. I'm pretty sure I've caught glimpses of wings on your back--You're my social butterfly who says, "Hi," to anyone you think may engage in conversation with you.

4. You've been given more freedom to roam your surroundings than your counterparts were ever given at your age.

5. You believe preschool is good enough for others, but you should be spared.

6. You have no need for your own bedroom--you prefer to room with me.

7. It has not yet occurred to you that you were not in utero at the same time as your siblings.

8. There are ~~many~~ times that I tune you out for the mere fact that you NEVER.STOP.TALKING unless you are asleep.

9. The rear view mirror in the car is cocked downward more than it is upward because you tell the best stories while driving and I love to watch your facial expressions.

10. You border on narcoleptic-finding no difficulty in drifting off to dreamland anywhere and everywhere!

You are my

Annie

And I love you so, so much!

Ten Things I know...

2008-10-17T13:05:00.000-07:00

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Bella

1. You thrive on irritating others.

2. You've inherited your father's competitive spirit.

3. You succeed at everything you set out to do because you don't settle for less than perfect.4. Many would recognize you from the backside--the girl whose coin slot infamously hangs out just above her pants.5. Your quiet, reserved personality leads many to believe you are my shy girl--boy, is that wrong!

6. You would trade all your Barbie Dolls for art supplies if given the opportunity.

7. I can count on my 2 hands how many times you've slept through the night since we brought you home from the hospital.

8. Although you are far off from a "girlie-girl," you humor me and sit so still, allowing me to fiddle with your hair and play hairdresser.

9. You have amazing stamina when it comes to throwing temper tantrums. They've been known to last an hour or more!
10. You're Ms. In-Control-asserting unwelcomed authority over your siblings-usually resulting in an argument.

You are my Bella

And I love you up to the sky!

Ten Things I Know...

2008-10-16T20:42:00.001-07:00

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Isaac

1. Your sweet nature is as refreshing as an ice cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer's day.

2. You could turn a pile of recyclables into some sort of creature if given 15 minutes alone with a recycling bin. 3. Something as simple as writing the number "1" could easily frustrate you.
4. It warms the cockles of your little heart to scare the daylights out of unsuspecting victims when you roar or growl gregariously.
5. At 5 years old, you've already perfected "the Look" that brings girls to their knees--at least it works for this girl!
6. A pile of colorful Legos could entertain you for an hour as long as you also have the direction booklet.
7. Just as quickly as you reach your boiling point, you cool off again.
8. You're a big fan of sleep-overs, offering yourself up as a house guest, regardless if you've received an invitation!
9. You are just as enthralled the 20th time you watch a Scooby Do episode as the first time you watched it.
10. You're Mr. Independent, feeling free to wander off in any direction you choose without requesting permission.

You're my Isaac-

And I love you to the moon and back!

Ten Things I Know...

2008-10-15T20:26:00.000-07:00

TO BE TRUE ABOUT YOU

Angel

1. Your screams have the capability to shatter glass.
2. You are as protective as a new mommy of your brother and sisters.

3. I could dump you in the middle of 50 strangers, and within 5 minutes they'd be your lifelong friends.

4. You're eager to please.

5. Your ability to rationalize touchy situations is an ability we work on on a minute-by-minute basis.
6. Your ability to impress the boys, on the other hand, would lead one to believe that you've been "playing the field" for many years. 7. You could care less if the formation of your letters are correct or if your crayon marks stray outside the lines.
8. You give me daily glimpses into your teenage years when you spin around on one foot, flip your hair over your shoulder, and huff off, angry at a consequence I've handed out.

9. Just looking into those big, brown eyes that appear between blinks, is enough to relieve the stress you cause me!
10. You are generous with your professions of love for me and with your compliments on my mothering.

You are my Angel--

And I love you as BIG as the universe!

A Dilema of My Own

2008-10-13T19:24:00.000-07:00

(Disclaimer--This post contains a politcal undertone that may be offensive to some parties. It is not my intent to upset or offend...just have fun!)

I never dreamed that I would live through a time when our country was experienceing such major dilemna's.

The stock market dropping by the hundreds on a daily basis.

A possible future president that has minimal experience and a value system as stinky as a half-empty milk sippy cup that has been misplaced under a bed for 2 weeks.

A large sector of the American people who want to bring down the family value system like a building being detonated from below.

Houses lost to repossession at a rate comparable to the wing-flutter-per-second of a hummingbird.

And the list goes on and on.

And while all of these dilemma's are happening in the world, I, too, am facing a dilemma of my own.

Not nearly as frightening as the dilemma that our country and its' inhabitants are experiencing, but a dilemma none-the-less.

You see, I am receiving love notes by the hundreds! I have some admirers that are quick to express their love in writing.

Don't fret. The dilemna is not that my husband is not aware. He is the recipient of an equal amount of love notes.

My dilemna is this...What on earth am I supposed to DO with all of these love notes?

Have you ever tried to throw something away with the words, "I love you" staring back at you, written across the paper in your child's 5-year-old handwriting? If you haven't, let me be the first to tell you, IT'S A DILEMNA.

"What an uncaring, cold individual you are, throwing away your children's love notes," is what you may be thinking at this moment in time. And I can identify with your concern, but please hear me out, mathematically speaking.

My husband and I happily receive at least 5 notes a day per child. Mutliply that by 2, since there are 2 of us, and you get 10 notes per day. Then multiply that by 4, because we have 4 children and you get 40 love notes in a day.

It doesn't sound ALL that bad until you multiply that by 365 days in a year and you get 14,600 love notes in a year. Now that my friends is substantial.

For more reasons than one.

Environmentalists would most likely tell you that our family should be putting forth more of an effort to perserve our forests, by cutting down on the love notes circulating our family. They would probably suggest a white board, or something along those lines. (Who am I kidding. They would probably be bothered that the fumes from the pens are permeating our ozone layer, thus destroying it.)

I'm actually really not that concerned with what the environmentalists are thinking. The Type-A in me is much more concerned about how to file and save the above mentioned love notes.

Do I file them alphabetically under each child's name?

Do I file them in a file under, "Love Notes?"

Do I buy a 456th plastic bin and print out a computer label with the words, "Love Notes from Kids," and a clip art of a little piece of paper that I downloaded from the internet?

Are you relating yet to my dilemna?

If I only I could get the main line to the inexperienced presidential candidate who seems to have an answer for everything. I'm sure he could come up with a solution to my dilemna.

And if he couldn't find the solution, I'm sure he could find someone to blame for my problem!

They're Much Too Young

2008-10-09T19:52:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be happening until at least junior high school. My just barely five year olds are much too young to be engaging in such conversation.

I must push the pause button...awareness and dialogue about the opposite sex is happening much to quickly in the Kamahi family! Especially for my Angel.
I'm convinced that she wakes up each morning much more excited about seeing the boys in her class than learning her ABC's. She concerns herself with her clothes and her hair, not to be stylish or comfortable, but rather to impress her boys. On more than one occasion, she has informed me that, "Mom, Joe (name changed for anonymity) is really going to love my outfit today. I think he'll like my hair, too!"

Just last week, after asking her what she learned in school that day, she replied straight-faced, "Mom...new report. Joe is not my boyfriend anymore, John is! There is nothing you can do about it." Those were the exact words that spilled from her mouth.

And what I wanted to do was wipe up those spilled words, wring them out over the sink, and turn on the garbage disposal. She's much to young to be having such thoughts! Even I wasn't that boy crazy when I was a child. For goodness sake, I was a one-boy-girl. At five years old in kindergarten, my heart belonged to Jeremy Buegey and only Jeremy Buegey. Why can't Angel choose one and stick with him? (IF she's gonna pick someone at all!)

Bella's complete lack of interest in the opposite sex is more proof that Angel stole all the hormones! Running around, playing, and instigating anyone who is willing to be instigated is much more up Bella's alley. She's even perfected the instigation of Angel's relationships by deliberately and precisely, pushing Angel in front of the boys that make her ga-ga!
While Isaac is all boy and prefers to be rough-housing somewhere with other boys, he still makes time to ogle at a girl. The same girl he has had eye's for since preschool--Little Miss Kathy. (name also changed for anonymity) On more than one occasion, I have heard the tune float up from the back seat of the car.
"Two little love birds, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the baby in the baby carriage."

He knows not what he is singing, for the word he spells would surely cause him to blush if he pronounced it.

I'm still holding out hope that because there are three the same age, they will keep each other in check. If they continue to tell-all at the rate they tell-all now, I will know every little detail in each of their lives...~~down to the time and consistency of their bowel movements!~~

Oops, I Did it Again!

2008-10-01T12:54:00.000-07:00

It was going to be small this year. Ten kids at the most, fifteen if I was feeling ambitious! I said that after last years party if you'll remember back a year.

I don't know how it happens. Each year the party gets bigger rather than smaller.

I always realize this after it's too late.

I started to realize it was growing by leaps and bounds after recruiting my mom and sister-in-law to help decorate 35 clown ice cream cones.

Or was it after making and sending out 35 invitations!
I knew for sure it had grown when the guests started arriving, quickly filling every square inch of my backyard!

And when the passage-way through the back patio required a detour due to the large amount of birthday gifts, I knew the party had grown!!!

And when the living room began to look like this,

I nearly hyperventhilated!

I didn't have nearly enough bins to house all of the gifts. And some of the gifts were so large, a bin wouldn't be sufficient!

The gift stress wasn't even close to the stress that the Taco Man put me through! The man who was going to feed my guests and arrive at my house at 3:30 pm so my guests could start eating at 4:30pm...yah...that Taco Man....well he arrived over an hour late! Which delayed eating time from 4:30pm to after 5:15pm.

Does he not know that doing that to a mother who is plagued with a Type-A, In Control personality ranks right up there with having your fingernails removed one-by-one with a pair of pliers?

Oh yah...That's exactly how badly it hurt!

It was nothing that our Guest of Honor couldn't fix. Penelope the Clown came in and saved the day. Like a Night in Shining Armor trotting in on his horse, she swooped in in her mini-van and delighted the children with her magnificent face painting! The kids could have cared less that their tummies were growling!!!

Chaos, clutter, and confusion didn't hold anyone back from having a good time! Even I was still smiling at the end! A bit exhausted, but still smiling!

It's a really great thing that this whole birthday thing only happens once a year. It gives me a whole 365 days to recoup and decide to do it again the following year!

Career Change

2008-09-25T21:30:00.001-07:00

It was 5 years ago today that I accepted the new position.

No application.

No resume.

No interview.

No experience necessary.

I was handed the job without any questions asked.

I've held the position longer than I have any other job.

Longer than my 4 1/2 year long waitressing job at the burger joint that paid my way through college.

Longer than my teaching career that lasted less than 3 years!

There are days when I dream of retiring! Days when I would love to do nothing more than walk in the door, hand in my resignation letter, and walk out the same door to a quieter, more peaceful place...

...Like a deserted island!

A deserted island free of organized sports.A deserted island free of class parties.

A deserted island free of science experiments.A deserted island free of three 5 year old monsters and an even BIGGER 3 year old monster!
But when I applied for this job a little over 5 years ago, I knew there would NEVER be a retirement offered.

No 401k

No paid vacations.

And even worse, no days off!

But five years ago today, on September 25, 2003,at 1:24 pm, 1:25 pm, and 1:26 pm I gladly accepted the best job ever!

Though all of the monetary aspects of this job seem dismal, the emotional perks are out of this world.

I wouldn't trade my job as "Mom," to Angel, Isaac, Bella, or Annie for anything in this world.

Happy Birthday Angel, Isaac, & Bella!

I sure love you!

"Dear God...

2008-09-11T22:46:00.000-07:00

Please help Mommy to be happy tomorrow."

That was the prayer that Annie prayed just before dozing off to dreamland.

And Isaac's prayer? His was right along those same lines.

"Dear God, Please help Mommy to not yell."

I hate to admit it, but I had one of those evenings. Or was it afternoon? Or has it been one of those weeks?

I sincerely thought that the kids going back to school was going to solve all of our problems. I pictured picking up three mentally and physically exhausted children from school each day. Children who would be ready to come home, have a snack, rest awhile, do some homework, eat dinner, bathe, read a bedtime story, and then, hit the pillow.

Boy was I wrong.

It is my assumption that my children are well-behaved at school, mind their manners, and even act as if they love each other in the classroom.

It is the only logical assumption. It is the only reason that would explain why they are ready to let it all out upon arrival to our car parked just 100 yards away in the school parking lot. They've spent six hours putting on this show and they can't handle it any longer when that bell rings.

I'm telling you, my kids go to war the minute we climb into the car. They fight about who is sitting in which seat. They fight about how long it is taking each one to get buckled in. You name it--they will fight about it!

And the fighting only continues at home. And my temper only shortens, hence the prayers of my darling children!

If their prayers aren't answered quick, they're going to have to visit Mommy in the insane asylum!

Blurred Vision

2008-08-29T16:28:00.000-07:00

My vision this past week has been far from 20/20. As I look back, all I see is a cloud of dust where we once were. My driveway has had so much come-and-go traffic in the past four days, I can faintly see tire tread marks in the cement. And all the tire tread marks can be traced back to my very own vehicle.

All of this, due to the fact that my children started school on Monday.These are the things I know for sure:

*School starts sharply at 7:55 am.

*We must leave our house promptly at 7:20 am to snatch a parking space in order to walk the kids to class.

*Their class is held in the northern most classroom on the school property.

*School is excused at 1:55 pm.

*I must leave my house promptly at 1:15 to snatch a parking space in order to pick the kids up.

Other than those facts....it's all a blur!

I'm still trying to figure out how my kids can come home from school with more energy than the Tazmanian Devil after a triple shot of espresso, while I need the mother of all naps.

I'M EXHAUSTED!!!

And I thought this whole going to school things was going to free up my days and give me the time I needed for myself. I'm about as tired as I was almost five years ago when I had three infants drinking bottles around the clock!

I'm sure in time I will grow accustomed to the routine of getting the kids to school and picking them back up, but until then, I'm the one who's begging for the afternoon nap!

Is it almost summer yet? NOT!!!

A New Chapter Begins

2008-08-24T22:04:00.000-07:00

Dear Angel, Isaac, and Bella,

Tonight I put the three of you to bed with a sense of sadness, yet excitement for you, as tomorrow you will begin a new chapter in your lives. You, my three sweet babies, my pride and joy, will embark on a new adventure...kindergarten!

Although I have dreamed of this very day, some peace and solitude in my very own home, I am choking back tears as I imagine how life is going to change, not only for you, but for me as well.

For you see, you will always be my babies, and I will forever feel the need to shelter and protect you.

How on earth will I make sure you wash your hands before you eat?

And who is going to make sure you finish all of your lunch before heading off to play?

More importantly, how am I going to make sure that you are being treated fairly by those around you?

Five years can't possibly have been enough time to teach you all that you need to know before heading off to school. In fact, I can't believe that it has even been nearly five years since I have been blessed with each of you!

Although I know you are more than ready to begin this chapter, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that you will succeed beyond my wildest dreams, I'm having a hard time letting you go!

Who is going to dump every single dinosaur and transformer out on the floor and then baulk when it is time to clean them all up?

When will you possibly have time to antagonize one another, until someone throws up their arms in a fit of rage?

What famished children will I dish snacks out to all day?

Angel, Isaac, and Bella...I love you more than words could ever express! I'm looking forward to this turn of a page into the next chapter of our lives where we can make even more wonderful memories.

And no matter what....you will ALWAYS be my babies!

With cuddles and kisses,

Your Mommy

xoxox