Einie, Mienie, Miney, ...where's Moe...

Einie...

Because we take two cars, head counts are always dicey things. Today I discovered my second son had lagged on getting dressed. I was just about to head out when he showed up dressed for mass, and thus I did a quick text message to make sure I wasn't leaving behind any non sentient beings when we headed out the door. Then I made a run through of the house to double check.

I am haunted by the story of my uncle being left at mass to walk home because his parents took two cars.

Mienie...

Yesterday, my kids helped unpack the car and it was raining. So I made several soggy trips and begged the children to get their things. Putting the baby in the high chair and beginning the process of serving snack, reminding people to put away their things and preparing for homework, I did a head count...where was cupie doll?...

I look outside. Cupie doll is busy splashing puddles. She has taken off her shoes and is wallowing in the glorious rain and mud. The doors to the car on every side are open, allowing the car to experience the same joy as she.

Miney...

My children are the masters of hide and seek on Sunday when I demand my weekly child tribute in the form of one hour of cleaning. Putting on "Enchanted's "Happy Working Song," does help though, as do props.

One daughter will happily scrub all the bathrooms if offered a pair of plastic yellow gloves. My second son willingly weilds the swifter mop. The oldest can be told to vacumn a floor and does it. What happens though, is after I've given out specific tasks,some of the kids view these as the maximum amount necessary to return to DSland or Civ IV or Pokemon or whathaveyou...no...I want my sixty minutes.

I have explained why I need this time before...with exponents and time management, with bribes of bonus allowances for the best worker, and even treats of ice cream on Sunday...and with threats of making it 2 hours if I fail to get my one...still, I was unprepared for the lengths to which one of my children went to ensure she could avoid work.

She is the quiet one. The one who in games of hide and seek can throw a cloak over herself and not be seen. She created a cave. A cave in the back basement. A cave complete with a bean bag pillow, a night light, her DS gameboy, easter chocolate and her. I admit, after combing the house three times, I failed to check behind the stairs of the back basement, though I did search the back for stragglers over at the comics stash...she must have held her breath when I returned a second and third time.

After twenty minutes of increasingly serious searching failed to find her, I felt a slight panic.., I began calling. I summoned the children and they began calling and searching, checking closets and beds and bathrooms I had checked before.

Moe

But a two year old can find anything she wishes. Cupie doll loves playing with her older quiet sister's gameboy, so she naturally went to the back basement, pulled back the covers that made the cave such a lovely hiding place and muscled in a spot on the beanbag with her sister and started poaching the foil wrapped chocolate eggs. I might add, she doesn't bother with such pesky details as unwrapping chocolate. That's a waste of time one could spend chewing chocolately goodness.

After dinner that night, I even peeled a few chocolate kisses as a reward.

Some may have noticed I've used a few older pieces and the tone has been less light as of late. There is a reason.

We are execting our ninth child, a son. This news, while joyful, has been a bit overwhelming to all of us. We also know that he will have Downs Syndrome, but what that will mean remains to be seen. The process of testing and waiting for results has cut into my energy to write and craft and maintain this blog, as has preparing for the Erma Bombeck conference this weekend. I will try to return to my normal chipper sunnier self and if you see that the chocolate for your brain is running more dark than milk, drop me a line, it helps for feedback.

X Box Live or The Real Game Boy Advanced

Monday, my morning routine was going well. I had made the lunches and started to wash clothes that had been piled on top of the machine. Then my son came down the stairs.

"Did you wash my gym uniform?" The very tension in his voice betrayed his hopes, that I had somehow found his shorts and shirt after 9 pm Sunday and in a fit of motherly devotion, done a wash.

"Where were they?" I asked.

"I stuck them on top of the washing machine last night. Along with my other things."

Racing to the laundry room, I fished his sopping wet things out of the machine and flung them in the dryer. "Get yourself some other shorts and a shirt for p.e. because they won't be ready. You'll be out of uniform for today."

Grumbling, he marches off to find gym clothes for the day.

Looking at the machine I start to wonder, "Why can't he do this? If he can work a game console, he can do this."

My son returns with a bag of shorts and a t-shirt.

"Look. Pretend this is a video game."
He gives me a Mom-you-have-just-officially-lost-it face.

"No, I'm serious. Take your bag and go on a quest. A magic quest to find all the hidden socks and shorts and stinky things that your evil Twin has strewn all about the house. When your bag is full, come back to this room to save the game." I thrust the bag in his hands.

Returning with a bag half full, I explain, "The Troll Mom will not let you use the machine unless you have a full load. I know there are more things to find, behind your bed, in the closet on the floor..." he goes off to get them. Returning with a full bag, I continue my attempt at educating him about laundry.

"Then, we'll use some magic potion or powder to transform these useless pieces of cloth into useful things for waging war at school against looking and smelling bad."

"Mom..."

"I'm not finished. You'll have target practice. Put all the clothing in the hole. See the hole? Any shots that miss must be retaken, you cannot advance until all items have been loaded."

I'm drawing a crowd, as my two daughters and other son have come to watch, so I keep going.

"Then, you get to push buttons. I know all of you like to push buttons. You even fight for the privilege of pushing the buttons in public. Here we have a button and a lever you can use anytime! Push!"

"I don't know what to push."My son tried playing dumb. Admittedly, he did sound a bit like me whenever I would join in the Smackdown frenzy of a melee game session.

"Think of it as xxYZ down toggle B and you won't have a problem."

He pushed the button.

"See? You did it! Very good." I said in my kindergarten teacher voice. "Now, this game is played in real time. You let this sit for a while, maybe two levels worth of playing and then come back when the loud buzzer goes off. Transfering the wet items to the dryer may be tricky."

Eyes rolled.

"You should have a basket in case there are things in the dryer. If you don't unload the dryer first, the machine shrinks the clothing and that favorite shirt of yours becomes a hand-me-down."

My daughter starts to laugh.

"Bon, what's your favorite game?"

Startled to see I have changed focus, she stammers "Legend of Zelda."

"Good. Good. And you have to equip and unequip in that game right?"

"Yes."

"Well you have to unequip the dryer before you can equip it with new wet things. Once you've loaded the dryer, you have a secret move that makes everything else more effective. Think of this as a cheat code."

I hold up a dryer sheet for all to see, as even the babies are coming to watch, wondering why everyone else is crowded in the laundry room. Seizing the moment, I allow my five-year-old to place it in the dryer.

Now it's filter time and button pushing again. I remove the filter and have each of them remove some of the lint. There are lots of "ew!s" and one attempt to wear the blue fuzz as a beard but everyone eventually touches the lint. Replacing the filter, I allow the oldest girl to "push the buttons." Then the toddler cries to do it too, so I make them all take turns, even those who don't want to.

"This concludes our tutorial of Laundry machine Live! Come back this afternoon to learn about folding and actually putting away."

Lecture over, the crowd disperses and I begin wondering if I could come up with a metaphor to get the kids to wash the dishes.

*In loving tribute to the great one, Erma Bombeck who first tried to teach her children domestic skills via a manual.