Not Quite Insane... Yet!

Being an Artist can be EXHAUSTING!

2009-07-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

I don't have to write much. This is one of those times when a picture says a thousand words.

Home Alone With Three Brothers

2009-07-02T22:27:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid and my parents would go out on a date they would always leave us home with my older brother in charge. Brad was seven years older than me, Troy was five years older and Lance was my twin and fifteen minutes younger than me. I have a lot of memories from this time. Some are hazy, some are funny, some still make me want to hit my brothers.

One night when my parents were getting ready to go out they informed me that I would be sleeping over at my Grandma Schofields. This was much better than being stuck at home with three brothers and I was very excited. My Grandma Schofield was so much fun to be with. She drove around in a brand new, bright red, Mustang sports car and would always spoil you. Every time I would sleep over we would make cookies, play cards, have tea parties, or go to the local convenient store and she would let me choose whatever I wanted for breakfast the next day. I loved it. She had a strange glass tube-vase like thing that she got as a white elephant gift that we had no idea what it was used for. We used to take turns seeing who could come up with the most outrageous ideas of what it was and then break out laughing. I still think about it sometimes and wonder what in the world it could have been. I wish I could have kept it, but it was probably thrown away because it looked like a piece of junk. I would give anything to have it just for the memories. I miss her.

I started to notice that every time my parents went out they would leave my three brothers home alone and I would always be sent to my Grandmas. I wasn't complaining, but I started to wonder why this was. Why wouldn't they let me stay home? Why did my brothers get to stay home alone? Didn't my parents trust me? Why would they trust my brothers, but I had to be with an adult? What could I possibly have done that made them not trust me? I never made a big deal about it because if I had to choose I would much rather be with my Grandma. But I couldn't always help but wonder.

One day when I was in my late twenties I finally asked my Mom what I had done to make them not trust me to be home alone with my brothers. What had I done wrong to only be allowed to have an adult watch me. My Mom choked and had a hard time getting the words out. Her eyes bugged out and she looked at me like I was insane. She finally spit out that they didn't send me to my Grandmas because they didn't trust ME. They sent me to my Grandmas to be NICE to ME. They sent me to my Grandmas because they didn't trust what three brothers would come up with to torment a little sister. I thought about that in shock for a moment and then broke out laughing. I thanked her profusely for that. She couldn't believe that I had gone my whole life thinking that my parents didn't trust me to be left home alone.

Here are some of the memories I have of those times when I was left home with my brothers. I can understand what my Mom was thinking if she heard any of these stories. Some of them may be different than how my brothers remember them, but they are how I remember them, from the perspective of being a little girl left at the mercies of three brothers. Here goes....

Rodeo

I don't know who came up with this idea, probably Brad, but it still cracks me up. I can't believe we let him do this. Maybe we were dropped on our heads as babies. Who knows? The game went like this....Brad was the rodeo cowboy, Troy was the one with the stop watch and Lance and I were the cows. I know...lovely. We used to have a pool table in our basement and under it would be the cage where the cows were held. Troy would sit with the stop watch and yell GO! Lance and I would take turns running on all fours, acting like cows, out into the room where Brad was waiting with a rope. He would then try to tackle us to the ground and try to tie three of our legs and arms together while Troy was timing him. We did this repeatedly while Brad tried to beat his best time. I remember thinking it was fun. Yeah, great fun..acting like rodeo cows and being tied up. Good times.

Sliding down stairs

As soon as our parents would leave we used to love getting on our sleeping bags and sliding down the stairs. The sleeping bags worked best because they were made out of some cheap slick kind of fabric which made them go faster. Speed was our goal when it came to sliding down the stairs. Now the dumb thing about doing this was that the pool table was up against the wall about three feet from the stairs. So no matter how fast or slow you were going you would always run into the pool table. This became a problem when it was speed we were trying for, but we weren't about to let it get in our way. I have no idea how none of us broke any bones. Someone finally got smart and padded up the pool table with pillows.

Monster under the stairs

Brad one time showed me and Lance a pair of Halloween costume monster teeth. They were not the plastic fangs but the kind you would slide into your mouth. They looked gross and to a five year old they looked REAL. He told us he found them under the stairs in our laundry room and that they belonged to a monster that lived under there. I had nightmares after that. It was years before I would willingly go into the laundry room and even more before I could look in the direction of under the stairs without shuddering. Stupid brothers.

On Trial

This is one of my hazy memories and one I had forgotten till my brother Troy brought it up. About an hour before my parents were expected home and our mess was cleaned up we would have a mock trial. Brad would be the judge...of course, Troy would be the lawyer and Lance and I would be the defendants. Brad would bring up all the things that we weren't supposed to have done, even if we hadn't been part of it. Him and Troy would then somehow twist it around to seem like we were ALL responsible. And if we were ALL responsible then if I told on them then I would get in trouble too. It was always ruled that we were guilty and I didn't want to get in trouble...so I never told on them. Maybe they weren't so dumb, that was actually kind of clever.

Wizard of Oz and Hyperventilating

One night when my parents were heading out they gave me special permission to stay up late and watch the Wizard of Oz on TV. The only problem was that they didn't tell Brad that they had given me permission. I was very excited to watch it. I had just started watching it when Brad told me I had to go to bed. Well, I told him NO, that mom told me I could stay up and watch the Wizard of Oz. He didn't like being told no and tried to force me to go to bed. He learned very quickly that you don't mess with a little girl who has her heart set on watching the Wizard of Oz, especially if she had special permission. I started screaming, crying, kicking, and I wouldn't stop. I was so mad. I think I really worried them with the force of my crying and fighting, when they got an idea of a way to help me calm down. They had seen somewhere on TV about putting a paper bag to your mouth to help you stop hyperventilating. They decided to try this on me. Have you ever had someone try to force a paper bag over your mouth when you are in the middle of a tantrum? It doesn't work, it only makes you madder. By the time my parents came home I was in hysterics and told on my brothers how they WOULDN'T let me watch my movie and how they tried to FORCE me to breathe into a bag. It was a horrible night and I went to bed crying about missing the Wizard of Oz. Come to think of it, this was my last memory of ever staying home alone with my brothers. I think it was after that experience that I started going to my Grandmas.

I love my brothers. I really do. Sometimes I want to hit them when certain memories come up, but most times I just smile and wonder how I survived childhood. I'm very thankful that my parents let me spend all that time with my Grandma for my own sake. Or maybe.....they sent me to my Grandmas to save my brothers from ME....I did have a pretty bad temper and could be scary in my own way. Who knows. Either way I'm glad they did it. The only thing I ever felt bad over was that Lance was left alone with two older brothers to bug him. Gerbil food in his nighttime drinking water....Yeah, I kind of felt bad hearing about that one.

Macaroni and Cheese Bath

2009-06-24T16:22:00.000-07:00

When my kids were little I would always sing to them while giving them baths. I would tell them what I was washing while I was washing it. Wash your nose....wash your chin.....wash your toes....I would do this in a sing song voice the same way every time.

One day when Erin was almost two she decided to give herself a bath. Erin was in her highchair eating macaroni and cheese while I was giving my baby Ashley a bath. I was singing to Ashley when I heard Erin doing the same behind me. I thought "Oh, how cute, she's copying me". I turned around to look at Erin just in time to see her take a whole handful of macaroni and cheese and smear it on her cheek. She did this while at the same time singing "wash my cheek" then she grabbed another handful and put it in her hair and sang "wash my hair" she then proceeded to her neck. She was covered from head to toe in macaroni and cheese.

I could have stopped her, probably should have, but it was so cute listening to her sing. I had no idea how much she was actually listening to me when I gave her baths or washed her face. I didn't get a picture of her, I wish I had, she looked so funny. Instead, I finished Ashley up while at the same time trying to convince Erin to put some macaroni and cheese "inside" her tummy instead of "on" her tummy. Needless to say Erin got two baths that day. One with macaroni and cheese and the other a bath in water while her mommy sang to her.

Devin's Tooth Knocking Out Experiment

2009-05-22T15:04:00.000-07:00

It's funny with this story that it all started with a phone call from a mom instead of the principle at Devin's school. I'm still trying to figure that one out. You would think pain and blood would be involved somehow, which would ultimately involve a call from his teacher, in the very least....you would think. But nope, no phone call. Only from another mom....

I was in the kitchen when the phone rang, when I heard the whole story. Jacob, who was one of Devin's best friends, mom was on the other line. She started the conversation by asking me if I knew what my son had done...."groan". I heard this and a million different horror stories started going through my head about what Devin could have possibly done to have another mom ask me that question. Before I even had a chance to ask, the other mom started laughing. I had no idea what to make of this but I was definately relieved.....relieved that is, until she told me what he did. Still laughing she told me that Devin had knocked Jacob's tooth out, and that's not all, he also knocked another kids tooth out....MY NEIGHBORS SON! I was mortified.

He didn't do it on purpose to be mean. There was no fighting. Instead I found out that during recess a group of boys got together and were talking about whether or not a tooth could be knocked out. The mental picture that this brings to my head still makes me crack up. I can just picture a group of 7 year old boys sitting in a circle and having this discussion. BOYS!

Well, my son volunteered to do the knocking out while two other boys volunteered to have their teeth knocked out. What I can't understand is how, after seeing one kid get his tooth knocked out, that another one would get in line to have his knocked out. It's insane. I guess I should be glad that Devin was the one doing the knocking out and not stupid enough to stand in line to have his own tooth knocked out. Actually, I don't know if "glad" is the right word to use in this case, but I can't think of another one to put there. Mad? I didn't really feel mad, maybe because the mom was still laughing while she told the story.

Well, Devin knocked out two teeth that day and the boys couldn't be more proud of themselves! They were excited to be getting money from the tooth fairy! How he knocked out the teeth we're still not sure. Jacobs mom said that he didn't have a loose tooth when he went to school and he told her that he LET Devin punch him to knock it out. Devin said he did it with his thumb, and I've also heard a story that involved a jacket being pulled out of a mouth? Neither of us can get a straight story out of the boys. When I asked Devin he just broke into a huge smile and started laughing.

When I asked him who the other kid was he said that it was our neighbor. I never heard from his mom. Maybe because she thought that this may balance out all the things he has done since becoming our neighbor? I won't go into detail here, other than to say I'm glad that both of my neighbors sons, one on each side, are finally starting to grow up. Not that my kids are perfect. Far from it. This blog shows all the ways my kids are sooooo not perfect.....funny, but far from perfect. I wouldn't want them any other way.

I had a talk with Devin about how he wasn't allowed to knock out anyone elses teeth, even if they do volunteer to have it done.

Jacobs mom told me that she had bought "Hulk" hands for Devin's birthday party as a kind of joke. She bought them to make fun of the whole tooth knocking out experience. I don't think the boys got the joke but I sure did.

Ashley's Great Escape!

2009-05-03T15:51:00.000-07:00

One time when Ashley was two we went to pick her up from her nursery class at church. When we got there it was a madhouse of parents picking up their kids. We couldn't see Ashley anywhere. When we asked the teachers where Ashley was they informed us that she had already been picked up. Mike and I looked at each other and told the teachers that she hadn't been picked up because that was what WE were there to do. A frantic search for Ashley pursued and she was finally found outside walking around in the parking lot! This was not the last time this happened. Either the teachers needed to keep a better eye on the kids or Ashley was just to smart for them. Ashley proved to be the latter of the two. She was an accomplished escape artist. These escapes from the nursery were done with great stealth, but they were nothing compared to her Great Escape. The Great Escape happened at the same church, but this time she was with her Dad.

We were sitting in Sacrament. Erin was 4, Ashley was 2 and Brendan was just a baby. Ashley, being a typical two year old was getting bored with having to sit still. She finally got to the point where she was driving us crazy and probably all the people around us crazy. Mike finally picked her up and took her into the hall to work off some of her excess energy.

They had been gone for a few minutes when I noticed some movement in the front of the chapel. Someone's child was running back and forth in the front row. I couldn't see who it was, only that the child had blonde hair. I couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl. The child kept running back and forth and was drawing a lot of attention. I had just enough time to think "what kind of a parent would allow their child to run back and forth like that and disrupt the meeting" when an adult bent down right when the child went running past. I still couldn't see the child, but I saw a flash of yellow. My heart just sunk. Ashley was wearing a bright yellow dress and she had blonde hair. But it couldn't be her because she was with her Dad. I made a point of positioning myself so that I could see who the child was when they ran past. When the child came into view it was without a doubt Ashley running back and forth!

I looked around to see if I could find Mike, but he was nowhere in sight. So I gave Erin the baby and worked my way up to the front to grab Ashley. When she saw me try to grab her she let out a squeal and ran laughing to the other side of the chapel. I sat there in the aisle trying to get her to come back, which she did, but then ran away laughing again before I had a chance to get her. By this time everyone in the front rows were watching the performance and the bishopric was laughing. She made it back and forth about three times before I was finally able to grab her dress and carry her back to our seats. Mike was still nowhere to be found. After awhile I saw his face peak in the window in the door of the chapel and I motioned to him that I had Ashley.

Apparently, he had let Ashley down in the hall to walk in front of him. She had run ahead and got to the corner before he did. This wasn't a problem because the halls were long and he made it around before she could reach the next corner. But Ashley was an escape artist. When she reached the second corner instead of going straight down the next hall, she made a dive into the Chapel. Mike had thought that she had just ran so fast that she had reached the next corner. It never entered his mind that she could open those doors and get away. He spent the next fifteen minutes walking around the church looking for her, while I was trying to catch her in the chapel!

I sometimes wonder what other parents were thinking of us. If I was wondering what kind of parent would let their child run wild like that, they were probably thinking the same. At least the bishopric was laughing at the whole performance instead of giving us the evil eye. Hopefully someone realized that there was more to the story than what they saw. We kept a much closer eye on Ashley after that.

Snails in a Bucket!

2009-04-30T14:27:00.000-07:00

Brendan loves bugs. He has always loved bugs. His mom on the other hand does not like bugs, even if she is known around the neighborhood as kind of weird for seeming to like them. I don't like bugs... but I can tolerate them. There is a big difference. My theory is how can you deny your darling little boy the excitement of finding a bug once you have seen the look of amazement and wonder on his face. Thus, my supposed liking of bugs.

The only bug I ever freaked out over was when I answered the door to see him holding his hand out with the other hand covering it, like he had a surprise. When he uncovered his hand I saw that he was holding a garden spider the size of his hand. No lie! Well, instead of smiling and oohing and aaahing like I usually did, I let out a scream and without even thinking about it my hand shot out and slapped the bottom of his hand so that the spider went flying. Brendan stared at me with wide, shocked eyes, like he could not believe what I just did. We had a long discussion after that about what type of bugs were acceptable and what were not acceptable. Spiders, not acceptable. Grasshoppers, not acceptable (that is a whole other story). Rolly pollies, and lady bugs are acceptable. You get the picture.

Anytime I looked outside to check on Brendan I always found him with his nose inches from the dirt, looking under rocks or in bushes looking for bugs. He was always filthy. I would just shake my head and laugh at him. It's a good thing kids are washable.

His favorite choice of bugs were snails which we always seemed to have in abundance in our flower garden. He used to catch them by the jar full, dozens at a time. The first one he ever showed me, I asked what it's name was. He said George. Later he brought me a jar full of snails and asked me if I knew what all their names were. When I told him I didn't he proceeded to tell me that they were all named George. Every one that he found after that always had that name. I'll never be able to see another snail without thinking of the name George or hear the name without thinking of snails.

Normally when Brendan would collect snails he would keep them in a jar with holes punched into the lid. This is the story about the one time he did not do this and instead put them in a sand bucket. It is a story not for the squeamish at heart, it is in all accounts kind of gross...but funny. It is about one of those times in life when you have to decide if you are going to get mad at a situation and let it ruin your day, plus others. Or you can laugh. I chose to laugh. Now after all these years it is one of Brendan's favorite stories, plus mine. Even if I still cringe at the memory. So here goes.....

SNAILS in a BUCKET

I worked at a job where I went in at 6 a.m every morning. I would get up at four while everyone was still asleep to get ready for the day. On this particular morning I got up at my usual time to start getting ready. I headed down the hall towards the kitchen, past the kids rooms trying to be as quiet as I could. I didn't turn on any lights for fear of waking someone up. The hall was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing, but I knew my way around even in the dark. I had made it to the top of the stairs and was about three feet from the kitchen when it happened. I put my foot down and stepped on the unthinkable...with bare feet no less! I had stepped on something that felt like the size of an extra large grape. It crunched and then I felt a cold, slimy, wet something under my foot.

I let out a shocked, muffled scream that luckily didn't wake up the rest of the house. I had no idea what I had stepped on. No idea. I couldn't imagine what my kids had left on the floor that would feel that disgusting. Instead of heading towards the kitchen I turned my body around to reach for the light in the hall. I took another step in that direction and once again felt the crunch and slime, this time under my other foot. I let out another muffled scream and then stood there in shock, to afraid to take another step for fear of stepping on whatever was on my floor. I finally got the courage to take one more step to reach the light switch, not sure anymore if I wanted to know what I had stepped on. I made it to the light switch without any more surprises and turned on the light. I looked around and to my horror saw that where I had stepped were two smashed snails. On my carpet! I looked around some more and saw that there was a sandbucket sitting on the cupboard at the top of the stairs. It was full of snails. But there was more, during the night the snails decided to go exploring out of the bucket. There were snails everywhere!

There were snails climbing on every wall in the hall. There were snails climbing down the cupboard, in the tree, down the stairs, even into our linen closet down the hall! Now ask me how I knew to look in the linen closet....because snails leave a trail of slime! I could see everywhere the snails had headed because all over my carpet and walls were shiny lines of slime that criss crossed each other in every direction. If I wanted to be positive about the whole situation I would have to say that it was kind of pretty how the trails shimmered in the light. Pretty, until I remembered what those trails were made of...slime!

I ran into the kitchen and my body started doing an involuntary body cringe because of the grossness of it all. I had smashed snail on the bottom of my bare feet. I can't think of anything more gross feeling than that. After I was done cringing I stood there in shock trying to think of how to react. Part of me wanted to wake Brendan up and strangle him (of course I knew it was Brendan's fault, who else could it be?). I wanted to scream at him "What were you thinking!" At the same time I had an uncontrollable urge to laugh. I know, insane huh? I thought about it and decided that waking him up and yelling at him would only ruin his day, which in turn would ruin mine, and make it hard for everyone else. He was only 6 after all. He was only doing what boys do, right? I decided to laugh. I got out the camera and started taking pictures, unfortunately as of right now I can't find those pictures, but the pictures I got off line do it perfect justice of what the bucket looked like. There were easily over thirty snails in that bucket!

I hurried and washed my feet off, threw on some clothes and went to confront Brendan. I shook him awake and when he seemed coherent I proceeded to ask him who had the big idea of leaving a bucket full of snails in my house, overnight without a lid on it. He looked at me with big eyes and then a guilty grin spread across his face. I told him how the whole hall was now covered with snails and that he was in BIG Trouble Mister! And then I started laughing, which made him laugh. I told him that every one of those snails had better be gone by the time I came home from work. He nodded and kept on laughing.

It turned out to be a great day, even if it had started with a crunch and cold slime underfoot. Years later we still laugh at the story. People asked me how I could laugh and not be mad at such a thing. It was either laugh or sit down and cry. Which would you have done? I remember my mom always saying that she hopes I have kids just like me. Now I understand what she means. I can now tell Brendan, laughing, that I hope he has kids just like him as a form of pay back. Oh, the joys of little boys.

Just a little about me......

2009-04-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

My name is Leslie and this is my first time ever doing a blog. I had a hard time trying to figure out a title. My husband and I, plus my nine year old son Brendan spent quite awhile trying to come up with some ideas. They came up with some generic ideas, but every title I came up with had the words....stressed, insane, crazy, tired, exhausted and Mom. I guess that basically says how I feel about my life. Don't get me wrong, I love my life. But yeah, if I did have to describe myself it would come out as a stressed out, tired, not quite insane but getting there, happily married mother of four.

Mike and I have been married going on 15 years. Love him to death. We have four children. Erin is 13 (and in the throes of becoming a raging teenager!) Ashley is 11, Brendan is 9 and Michael Devin is 7. I plan to go into a lot more detail about each of them (when I actually have more than 5 minutes) I teach preschool in my home. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I teach two classes a day for two hours. After preschool I go to a night job at Wells Fargo where I proof checks. My day starts at 8am and ends about 12:30-2 am on these days. Hence, the tired, exhausted mom. I have Tuesdays and Thursdays off but those days are spent getting things done that were not finished the day before and getting ready for the next day. All this is done in a tired haze. But I absolutely LOVE teaching the preschool! Plus it gives me a chance to be home with my kids when they are home, which is a great bonus.

So there you go, a little bit about me and maybe a brief explanation of the title. I'm mostly doing this blog to keep track and share memories of my family with other family and friends. Who knows, if I spend a few quiet moments (if that's possible) each day telling stories, or telling about my day, maybe that will help with the stress level. Maybe the title can soon be changed to Serenity now or something, hopefully it will never turn to "officially certifiably insane"!