Wake up before your children!

At 6:30 a.m. Boy Dinosaur, all bright-eyed and bushy tailed, comes traipsing in, "Morning Mommy!". "Mornin' Sweetie" I manage, still fuzzy headed from being wrenched out of dreamland.  I start mentally calculating a way to snag just a few more minutes of sleep then chastising myself for not going to bed earlier. I hear him greet the dogs and their toenails tap dance across the hardwood as they scurry away from gleeful fingers.
Cold doggy noses begin to prod me out of my warm cocoon. Everyone has to use the bathroom.  Quickly I dart across the cold floor to the bathroom and forget to close the door, so now Great Dane is panting excitedly next to me at eye level and Shepard is pacing nervously in and out. Boy Dinosaur races in just behind the dogs, "Mommy I have to go pee pee!" He shrieks clutching his pants and I know that if I don't get out of the way immediately he'll wet his pants and all hell will break loose.  I get off the pot as quickly as humanly possible and try to shoo the dogs.
A baby cries.
The morning routine begins.
I make breakfast and set out a few toys to distract them while I race to find clothes to wear- determined to find something other than sweatpants for once this month!  It's too quiet and I stumble back to find the refrigerator raided and both Boy Dinosaur and Baby Girl sipping smoothie drinks (thank God that's all they had) next to a chair shoved in front of the open fridge. Boy Dinosaur looks at me smiling behind the bottle, eyes twinkling, waiting to see my reaction.
"Mindful Parenting", I repeat it like a mantra. I explain the refrigerator rules to them. I can tell we are in full boundary testing mode and happy to have a sibling cohort.  I have to be firm and clear and consistent...   
The battle of wits begins to get both children's shoes and jackets on. I try everything mindful I can think of and somehow they are now wearing less.
I threaten to stay home to moderate success.
"One..., Two...., Three...." the magical count down always before has reined them back in.  "Four, Five, Six", Boy Dinosaur mimics back perfectly.
Do I really sound like that? 
Herding them to the car I resolve to stay home if the same shenanigans continue next time. No more empty threats!  Wait, why would I keep them home?  Why would I use that as a threat?  What if he wants to stay home and is acting out so that I don't make him go?
Why do I over analyze EVERYTHING!
Do other mother's feel like they repel their children?
Am I in some magnetic dipole moment of parenthood?
Do we have to wait until after they leave for college for the Barnett effect to take place?

Eulogy of Plastic Eyeballs

I think it only appropriate to dedicate this blog to the passing of one of Baby Girls favorite toys.  One I repeatedly made half ass'd attempts at hiding but was somehow never totally successful.  It was introduced to her at Halloween inside an over-sized bag, stuffed to the brim with more candy and knickknacks than any 14 month old could ever or should ever see- one week before the costumes and annual sugar consumption officially began.
Why relatives?  Why?

And what was this object of her voracious desire to snuggle and cradle for months to come...  The so beloved toy that she insisted on cradling it in her hand through grocery stores, and to the chagrin of her mother, drag through Boy Dinosaur's Montessori preschool holding up to any and all passersby for approval.

A bouncy ball formed out of about a dozen small plastic red rimmed eyeballs.

Was it the haphazard way it bounced and zigzaged across the floor that caught her eye? Or the terrified look on her mother's face when she held it anywhere near the vicinity of her mouth?

We'll never know.

Yesterday our beloved Great Dane dismembered and half consumed this dear toy. Baby Girl must have known somewhere in her heart it was gone, even though I rushed to sweep all remaining pieces in to the trash and out of sight. In the middle of the night she woke up in a mournful wail. As I rocked and soothed her back to sleep Loving Husband woke to a different noise. Our dog vomiting at the foot of the bed. He ran quickly to clean and was aghast to discover four half digested eyeballs floating in the muck. Unaware of the days previous activities you can imagine the thought process...
Am I really awake? Are those real? What can I poke it with?

Oh, plastic eyeball bouncy toy you are now officially gone, but your memory will live forever.  Or at least as long as this blog..

Frosty

Driving through our neighborhood there is a small unoccupied area cleared of forest where someone has started a snowman family. First there was one naked unadorned 5 foot high snowman and now there are three. Driving past other snowmen with scarfs and hats I feel giddy almost like a 5 year old again. I see them and giggle.
Why are the snowmen on my street naked?
Someone worked so hard to make them because they are perfectly, nay expertly, rounded and proportioned. Who made them? Why do they freak me out so much? Maybe if they had faces...

I'm talking Pennywise the Clown from "IT" creepy...

We played for an hour or so with the kids in the snow and even stacked up a little snowman w/ stick arms and a hat, etc. Baby Girl had a blast and gave it a huge hug then started scooping out little mittenfuls and eating it.  Boy Dinosaur eventually knocked it down and ran over it with a dump truck and excavator. The best part was when he asked if we put a "happy soul" in it.

Maybe I should send him over to the naked Frosty's w/ his dump truck.....

"Wax on, Wax off"

The simple act of jotting down a quick blog post of our activities (thanks mom for the gentle nudges) has proven to be as evasive as catching a fly with chopsticks. Between my internet freezing up erasing previous "almost" postings, Boy Dinosaur roaring at me, refusing to accept anything other than complete and undivided motherly attention, even if it means just sitting next to him and staring while he colors, and Baby Girl appearing around the corner bare bottomed having stuffed a wet diaper somewhere in the house (location determined to be kitchen trash after meticulous searching, me thinks). Now with naptime underway and 1 cup of afternoon coffee down I would like to ponder a few ideas.

What act would Mr. Miyagi from the Karate Kid engage us in to prepare for parenthood?  Sliding "side to side" across the hardwood floor in socks.. practicing zone defense.. against pressing of dishwasher buttons or climbing ceiling rafters.  "Paint the fence" works wonders when blocking my daughter from gleefully yanking glasses or earrings off my face...

What if we could meet someone like Mr. Miyagi and be transformed into ninja parents?