Here’s a joke I heard at a conference of stay-at-home dads a couple of years back. It references a stay-at-home dad but can be used for a stay-at-home mom too. Enjoy:
A working mom is leaving the house one morning and asks her husband - a stay-at-home dad - to pick up the dry cleaning at some point during the day.
Upon returning home, she asks her husband, “Did you pick up the dry cleaning?”
“No,” he responds, somewhat casually.
Clearly miffed, the working mom lashes out, “What do you do all day anyway?”
The dad doesn’t respond, and just continues finishing cooking dinner.
The next day, the working mom returns home from work. The front door is open. Her husband is in bed, watching a pay-per-view movie. The kids are in their pajamas and their diapers are hanging down between their knees, nearly overflowing. The fridge door is open and most of the contents are scattered on the floor. The carpets are stained from a marker that has also been used to write on the walls. Play-Doh has been smashed into the VCR.
“What happened?” the working mom asks.
“You know all that stuff I do all day?” the stay-at-home dad replies.
“Today, I didn’t do it.”
Do you ever forget the name of the first bully (or bullies) your child had to deal with?
I have not forgotten either of those boys although six years has passed. What made the memory stick was that both of them were 10- or 11-year-olds picking on an unsuspecting 5-year-old. It was new territory for us as parents.
We were lucky that our daughter (age 7) was already ignoring the meanies and walking away from them. She also knew she didn’t have the strength to face them and protect her brother.
We have forgiven those two bullies, but are keeping our guard up and praying they have not hurt others. One of two incidents about eight months apart back in 2003 and 2004 included a lot of physical pushing and shoving and the other involved nasty name-calling including words no 5-year-old should ever hear. Both of those much-older boys were just genuinely mean kids. I pray they have changed for the better.
Yes, kindergartner vs. sixth-grader. Kids can be so mean.
I’ve been on tour this week. It’s not nearly as cool as the “Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels,” but it’s been an exciting tour nonetheless. This week, I’ve been touring preschools in search of the perfect program for my 2 1/2-year-old son. Bubba will turn 3-years-old in June, making him eligible for preschool in the Fall. Registration begins now.
Part of me is asking where the time went? I really feel it wasn’t long ago that I brought home an 8 pound, 8 ounce boy from the hospital swaddled tightly in a blanket provided by the nurse. My boy looked like a baby burrito in a tiny, blue skull cap. I was happy, nervous and proud…. I still am.
But now there’s other part of me is looking forward to having some time off. It’s not like we are talking about a full day of graduate-level classes here. The preschool programs I’ve been looking at are mostly twice a week for about three hours in the morning. Lessons include colors, shapes and numbers.
I can see myself really enjoying the Tuesday and Thursday mornings when Bubba is in class. I won’t be flying solo, but my 1-year-old son, Peter, is a good wingman. It’s much easier to run errands with just one baby in the grocery cart. It might also be the perfect time to sneak in a workout, leaving only one child with the babysitter at the gym.
I also think the activities at the school sound fun. Besides some simple learning, the school has free play periods. There are plenty of challenging toys around (like puzzles and games), and there are other things available that are clearly intended to spark the imagination (like a fish tank, sand box and kiddie kitchen.) And that’s not to mention the benefits of interacting with other kids.
Plus, I’m not a teacher. I know I teach Bubba plenty of things everyday, but my methods are really random. Perhaps my boy would benefit from someone with years of teaching experience.
Then again, three years old is pretty young for school. I’m not to saying I’m opposed to schooling, it’s just that there’s an innocence about kids before they go off to school - like birds before they leave the nest. Kids grow up quickly after their first day of class. I just don’t want to push my boy out of the nest too soon.
If you get bored with playing the same old board games, try a new way of playing them.
Mix it up.
My inspiration for this little blog entry?
As I sit doing research on the computer, the kids are taking out all of our games from their boxes and making up new games with all the pieces.
Most of the boards are staying in there, I notice.
Some of the games were missing pieces to begin with. We know they are around this messy house somewhere.
The way I look at it: At least those games and their bulky boxes aren’t collecting dust.
The point of all this is that if you get bored with playing the same old board game, try a new way of playing it.
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I buy a lot of milk. With two boys under 3-years-old and a breakfast cereal-crazed spouse, our family consumes about four gallons of moo juice each week.
Every time I leave the house, I come back with at least one gallon of milk. I can’t remember the last time a one-gallon container of milk sat in our fridge long enough to sour. That’s something which used to happen frequently before The Wife and I began to procreate. I remember buying half gallons of milk and half cartons of eggs back then and still worrying about spoilage. Not anymore.
I was stocking up on milk last week at Sam’s Club, and I noticed newly designed milk containers. These containers are much more square than the standard milk jugs. I went to the Sam’s Club Web site and learned that the milk cubes actually debuted in stores outside of Illinois this summer. The press release didn’t say when the new milk jugs were set to roll out here.
“Today’s new square or case-less milk jugs do not require crates or racks for shipping and storage. Instead, the newly designed milk gallon is self stacking because the spout is flatter and each gallon can rest on another during transport, as well as while on display. It’s estimated trucks used for shipping from the processor to club can accommodate 9% more milk — 4,704 gallons per truck or approximately 384 more jugs — without any metal racks.* In addition, the flat top and wider spout do not come in contact with other equipment during filling reducing the risk of possible contamination,” the online press release from June 30th stated.
I pasted a photo provided with the press release to the right. The gallon I purchased last week is designed a little different than the one shown here, but the concept is the same.
I’ve used the new milk cube for a few days, and I have no complaints. In fact, I think the milk container might even fit in the compartment in my refrigerator door. Unfortunately, ketchup, mustard, pickles and a can of whipped cream have already claimed this valuable real estate on the door of the fridge.
Last spring I wrote about our family’s carbon footprint. Now our youngest is curious about the family’s water footprint.
This was prompted by learning about a contest for fifth- and sixth-grade students in Illinois where students write about or make a poster about the water footprint.
The theme is “Your Water Footprint . . . Keep it Small, Keep it Clean!” and the contest is for a $50 U.S. Savings Bond and an environmental reference book for your school. The competition is sponsored by the Illinois Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the deadline is coming up on Feb. 6. Amazing how those things sneak up on us.
The Ludwig Family returned from a week-long trip to Texas on Thursday. The kids brought home some souvenirs. I brought home a backache.
In fairness, I think my lower back was beginning to throb before our visit with the in-laws. The combination of carrying two, 28-pound boys and shoveling lots of heavy snow was taking its toll. However, the pain seemed to worsen on vacation.
We stayed with my in-laws. They’re good hosts, but the sleeping arrangement there isn’t designed for a family of four… and why would it be? My in-laws are in their 50s and live alone.
Initially, this meant the boys were sleeping in the living room. My 1-year-old son, Peter, would sleep in a Pack ‘n Play we brought from home. (For those unfamiliar, a Pack ‘n Play is basically the modern version of a playpen - a type of portable crib.) His 2 1/2-year-old brother, Bubba, was set up to sleep on a Thomas the Tank Engine air mattress grandma bought from Wal-Mart.
This plan was flawed from the start. The open living room allowed the boys to see and hear the adults after bedtime. With so much activity in the room, they refused to snooze. The Wife and I fought that battle the first night. The second night, we rearranged a storage area for Peter’s Pack ‘n Play. Bubba was moved into our room.
The new arrangement was an improvement but not a solution. I don’t think either of us enjoyed a full night of rest the entire time we were in the Lone Star state. Most nights, one of us would move out to the couch or onto the floor with one of the boys. The other would share our bed with another one of the boys. All of this, plus a couple of nights in a hotel with lousy pillows left me with sever back pain.
I almost cried tying my shoes this morning. A steady diet of ibuprofen has helped. The pain seems to be going away. But with every stabbing pain I’m reminded, there’s no place like home.
My little girl can really get down to a beat. But combine some fast-paced music with her favorite Sesame Street characters and you’ve got a 3-year-old who can boogie with the best of them.
That was the case Friday night, when the stage on East Van Buren Street in Joliet was transformed into Sesame Street for Vee Corporation Production’s latest kid-friendly adventure, “Elmo Makes Music,” starring our favorite furry red monster. I took my daughter, Grace, along with her best neighbor friends, James, 6, and Mariah, 9, to the 7 o’clock show.
For the second time in two years, the Sesame Street gang came to life in the beautifully elegant Rialto Square Theatre — this time teaching kids about the beauty and magic of music.
When Jenny, a music teacher, moves to Sesame Street, the Muppets give her a warm welcome. But when her truck of instruments hasn’t arrived, her newfound friends decide to surprise her with “instruments” they find. The crew — which includes among others Zoe, Big Bird, Ernie, Bert, Grover and Telly – discovers that music can be made by just about anything.
Cookie Monster was bound and determined to give Jenny a cookie — you know, “crunch crunch” — until he discovers that the treats in the jar make an even lovelier sound. They shake like maracas, and just in time for the characters to break out in a “Cookie Crumb-ba Rum-ba.”
When Grover and Rosita realize they can make music with their feet, the lights suddenly go out and four pairs of shoes appear on stage lit by a black light. The neon colors blare in the darkness, mesmerizing the young audience as the inconspicuous dancers wearing them flip, jump and twirl, making the shoes to appear to dance on their own.
James had an ear-to-ear grin on his face most of the time, but Grace was a bit hesitant at first. She may have noticed the 1 ½-year-old with her mother in front of us who was so terrified by the costumed characters that she nervously clutched her stuffed bunny, her thumb quivering in her mouth when she wasn’t screaming for Daddy.
Have you noticed how the youngsters liked playing with the cardboard boxes their Christmas presents were in rather than with the gift itself?
Think of the creative possibilities: A house, a tunnel, a drum, a stage, a place to hide from Aunt Dorothy.
I will never forget when we were making one of our many moves and my father-in-law was helping haul things down from the attic. He was carrying a bunch of empty boxes. My instant reply (without thinking) was “Those are good boxes and good boxes are hard to come by.”
Over the years, I have never lived that down.
As we continue to deal with all the scattered branches (still) from the ice storm, I couldn’t help but think of the pre-holiday Associated Press story about the stick making it into the National Toy Hall of Fame.
This prompted the always-humorous hubby to proclaim that he was going to wrap up sticks for everyone in the family for Christmas.
I know what you are thinking. Along the lines of the famous “A Christmas Story” quote, “You’ll shoot your eye out,” we realize youngsters may “poke your eye out” with that stick.
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