In 1988, my parents took me on a family vacation to Sea World and that is when it all started.

It was at Sea World that I saw my very first dolphin. I vividly remember sitting in the audience of the dolphin show and watching them preform with the trainers. They seemed to be rockets shooting up out of the water. They were so powerful yet so gentle and playful. I was mesmerized.

After the show when, I got to go up and actually touch a dolphin, I knew that I just had to be with the dolphins.

But I just didn’t know how was going to do it.

It wasn’t until I saw the movie, “The Little Mermaid” that I knew how.

I loved that movie. I was my favorite from the moment the movie began. I watched that thing so many times that I actually wore out the VHS tape and cried my eyes out until my parents got me a new one.

I knew that movie backwards and forwards in fact for my middle school talent show one year, I became Ariel and sang the song ‘Part of Your Word’ in full mermaid costume. That’s right full tail and bikini top and all.

I had it all planned out. Since Ariel wanted to be human so badly and I wanted to be a mermaid to be able to swim with the dolphins, we would just switch places.

Ariel could take my place in my life as a human and I would live her life as a mermaid.

I knew that my parents would understand that she needed to live with and get married to Prince Eric. Besides, they had my brother and sister to take care of. They would be happy to have one of the kids out of the house.

I knew the Ariel’s  father would be totally down with this because unlike Ariel, I was going to stay far away from the surface as possible. I would be totally happy ‘as through the waves they roll’ and spending my day ‘devoting full time to floating’. As long as the dolphins were near this would be just the thing for me.

Trading places would fix all the issues for Sebastien too. He could go back to writing symphonies and Flounder, well, he wouldn’t have to loose his best friend because I would be there.

It was a perfect plan.  Expect, I never learned to hold my breath long enough and to drive deep enough in Lake Michigan to find the portal that would take me to them in the ocean. And trust me, I tried. Every time we went to the beach all I did was try to dive deep enough to find that portal.

Darn human lungs.

Oh well, I still like dolphins.

And I still LOVE the movie.

This post is part of Writer’s Workshop and was inspired by the prompt, ‘What was it about that movie? Describe A movie you once had memorized’

I would say that I am a very sarcastic person. As I have gotten older, I have perfected this well, lets call it a talent.

Jeff is also very sarcastic as well. In fact he is more sarcastic than I am and when you get the both of us going, it is often times difficult for people to know when we are serious or not. I actually had someone who didn’t know us very well, pull me aside and tell me that I didn’t need to take his abuse.

It just comes natural to both Jeff and I and sometimes we just can’t help ourselves. In fact, we both use sarcasm around the kids. Me more so than Jeff because, let’s face it, I am around them more.

Well, kids just don’t understand sarcasm. I know this because of all the blank looks that they give me when I say things like;

“No, I am not busy. I am only trying to empty the dish washer, make dinner and feed the cat. So yeah, I can go and find your cup.”

“Yeah, that is a pretty big scratch. I think we need to take you to the hospital.”

“And yeah, sure you can eat only candy for dinner.”

When I say these things they just look at me with big puzzled looks on their faces. Its like they know I am not serious but aren’t really sure.

Hayden has started to catch on a little bit because he has started to ask, “Are you being serious? Are you just kidding?” when something I say sounds too good to be true or a little bit off.

But recently something happened that made me think that I may need to stop all my sarcasm or at the very least, tone it down a bit.

I was upstairs putting laundry away when I turned to walk downstairs, I stepped wrong on my foot and sprained my ankle. I have sprained this ankle about a dozen times so each time I do it, the pain gets worse and worse. This time it was so bad that I doubled over and started sobbing.

All of the kids, who were getting ready to go outside, came running back up the stairs saying, “Mommy! What’s wrong?”

I was in so much pain that I couldn’t answer them. I just laid on the floor and cried.

Then something must have registered with Hayden about this situation because he started to ask me if I was “really serious?”

“Mom, come on,” he said as he tried to push me up, “You are fine and you are just pretending to cry like Jake to make him stop. You are not hurt, mom. Stop it.”

I tried to convince him that I was really hurt but I was having a difficult time controlling the sobs.

“Come on, guys. Mom is kidding,” Hayden said as he gathered the little kids, “Let’s go outside.”

In Hayden’s defense, I sometimes do mock Jake when his crying and whining is too much for me to handle but this time I really was hurt. I just needed a little sympathy.

I guess its time to not be so sarcastic.

Man, this is going to be hard.

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You are driving along down the road when suddenly, you hear a little voice from the back of the van say, “Mommy, I gotta go potty.”

It is here that I feel you have three choices as to what you can do.

1. Ignore the child and hope that the fact that kids have no short term memory kicks in and said kid forgets about the fact that they have to pee. Knowing full well, that this will end up with you cleaning up a car seat.

2. Answer the child and ask them if they can hold if until you get to where you are going. Even though, you know full well that said child can’t hold it and you will end up cleaning up a car seat.

3. Pull over as soon as you find a suitable place to stop and let the child pee.

Now honestly, my first choice would be either 1 or 2 but since car seats are such a pain in the ass to clean up, I usually always go with choice number 3.

At least this time, Jeff was with me and since I was driving, he could take Quinn also know as ‘needs to pee at the most inconvenient time’ to the bathroom.

I stopped the car at the nearest and least scary looking gas station and Jeff took Quinn to find the bathroom well the rest of us waited in the car.

After everyone was settled back in the car and we were on our way again, I noticed that Jeff had a silly little grin on this face so I questioned him.

“What are you smiling about?” I asked.

“Oh nothing just something Quinn said,” Jeff replied.

“What did he say?” I asked trying to get more information from him than just a basic answer.

“Well, after Quinn went pee, I had to go too. While I was standing there peeing, Quinn’s eyes suddenly became big as saucers as he watched me. Then he said, ‘Wow, Daddy. You have a really big one.’ And I was all like, yup, that’s right.” Jeff said with an even bigger smirky smile..

“Oh,” was all I managed to say before the laughter got the best of me.

And I was laughing with Jeff, not at him, at least that is what he thinks.

Sometimes, I wish that I could say yes all the time.

Can we have cookies for breakfast? Yes.

Can we jump off the porch? Yes.

Can we run nakies all day? Yes.

It is just so much easier to say yes than to say no.

I don’t like having to say no.

I feel awful having to take away things my kids love.

I hate feeling like such a mean mom.

But that is part of the job.

It broke my heart to watch Hayden get so upset over the fact that I said he could no longer ride the penny horse ride in the store. But it was wrong to hang on it and swing from its legs, he knew it. He could have broken the horse or worse, hurt himself or his sibling. Besides, he was asked multiple times by the store employee to stop but he refused.

It felt like an arrow piercing my chest when he screamed at me, the I was the meanest mom ever. I wanted to give it. I wanted to let him ride the ride.

But I couldn’t. I had to hold my ground because I said no.

It really wasn’t about not wanting him to ride the ride but more the principle. He made a bad choice and bad choices have consequences.

Part of me feels like 5 is too young to have to suffer the consequences of a bad choice but if I don’t teach him this, then the world will and that is something I just can’t face.

So I guess I have to say no.

I have to teach him (them) to make the right choice.

Because someday the consequences of a bad choice will be worse than just not getting to ride on the horse.

Once upon a time, there was a tree.

He was a tall and strong tree.

He held his ground in the wind and in the rain.

He reached for the sun, turned his leaves green in the spring and summer,

let them be different colors in fall,

and then drop off in the winter.

He was a good tree.

But there was something that he just didn’t like.

When you looked around, he looked just like all the other trees in the yard.

He wanted to be different.

He wanted to be special.

He wanted to be colored on.

Each day, he watched the kids that lived in the house color on all kinds of things,

the house,

the van,

the side walk.

He wished that he too get some color.

Then one day, early in the day before the tree had opened his leaves for the day,

he got his wish.

For he had been colored too.

***

So now, it is time for you to show off something that your kids made. And you can make my day by adding my button to the post.

“Is there a word that you don’t like?” I asked Jeff one night as he climbed into bed.

“Um, no” Jeff said while giving me his ‘what in the world is this woman talking about now’ look, “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering because my friend Jackie’s husband doesn’t like the word penis. He is just disgusted by the word so much that she is not allow to say it in front of him,” I answered.

“Isn’t that just weird for a guy not to like the name of his body part?”

Jeff snorted as he said, “I don’t know how weird it is. Its not like you think ‘vagina’ is such a beautiful word?”

“Well, no.” I said. “I don’t think its a ‘beautiful word’ but it is what I got and I am going to say it because its anatomically correct. Plus, what else is he going to call his penis?”

And that right there my friends was when I opened the door for Jeff to do what he does best and take things way to far. With that last question, Jeff just smiled, took a big deep breath and said,

” Well, how about… burrowing bishop, family jewels, one-eyed willy, one-eyed trouser snake, wally, the one-eyed wonder weasel, pork sword, skin flute, twig and berries, kibble and bits, white-hot love truncheon, dong, stiffie, dick, tadger, prick, willy, John Thomas, piece of pork, wife’s best friend, percy, cock, crank, little general, purple-helmeted warrior, The Bald Avenger, magic missile, yogurt-spitting cyclops….”

He took another breath, opened his mouth to start again just as I slapped him and gave him my ‘yeah, you see the line, you totally stepped over it’ look.

As I turned over to settle in to go to sleep, I heard Jeff starting to giggle beside me.

“What?” I asked my tone laces with annoyance.

“I forgot one,” he said in between giggles.

And again, I didn’t stop. I opened the door and helped him cross that line even more, “What?”

“My Junk,” and with that Jeff busted up laughing shaking the bed with each belly laugh.

I turned fully over, pulled the covers up to my chin, having learned a very valuable lesson.

Never ask a man another name for penis.

Once there was a brother who got a really big owie on his head.

The mommy tried to make it feel better and even offered to send him to bed.

Nothing seemed to work, the big owie was just too bad.

This made the brother so, so sad.

But the other brothers and sister knew how to help.

They wanted the hurt brother not to yelp.

For when you are hurt and sad, you don’t need a shoe.

It is only silly faces that do.

Soon the brother found his silly face and  forgot about his hurt.

Then he asked for dessert.

This post is part of Wordful Wednesday
hosted by Angie.

I AM DONE WITH POTTY TRAINING!

Done!

I don’t care who you talk to but when it comes down to it, diapers are just easier.

Sure they cost a lot when you are buying them to cover 3 little butts and sure, they produce a heck of a lot of pollutions but when you put a diaper on a child you are done.

You don’t have to make 1200 trips to the potty in every single store you go into. You don’t have to scrape poop crusted in underwear because a certain child didn’t say anything. And you certainly don’t have to deal with large pee puddles in the middle of a check out lane in the grocery store.

Diapers are awesome and my children will be in them until college!

Let me back up and tell you what happened that caused me to decide to forever keep my children in diapers.

First you need to understand that potty training is a job that I just loath. I can’t stand it and as a parent I dread it. So that is why I wait as long as possible to train my children.

To me, training a child at two or even younger is just silly.  Sure they are two year olds that can pee when placed on a potty but I believe that they are too young to understand how the whole process works. I want my children to be able to tell me that they have to potty and not me having to tell them its time to potty.

I am potty trained and have been for 30 some years, thank you very much.

So that is why about 3 weeks ago, after weeks of watching Quinn and Claire tune into their bodies and begin to tell me when they pooped and peed in their diapers, did I decide to was time to make the switch to underwear and using the potty.

I first focused efforts on Claire and after a week of her doing really well, I started Quinn. Both kids seems to be doing great and I even made a tweet claiming that I had two out of the three potty trained.

(Jake is a whole other story. He is totally not ready and if given the opportunity would sit in a dirty diaper for days. He just doesn’t get it.  I think Christmas is when we’ll start him.)

Things were going really well. And I even patted myself on the back for figuring out a way to successfully potty train triplets. But then something happened.

Claire and Quinn started to refuse to sit on the potty. They cried and fussed every time. And I had to ask them, they just stopped telling me. They both began just peeing in their underwear and Quinn has taken to pooping in his. They ask, no beg, to be put back in diapers.

And then there was this fiasco.

I had to make a quick trip to the store. As usual, after a fight, I had Quinn and Claire go potty before we left. I figured this would give me at least an hour to shop and get things done.

For the most part, the trip went smoothly but as we were in line at to check out, I noticed Quinn begin to play with himself, a sure sign he needed to pee.  Hayden then told me that he had to pee and that he could take Quinn to the bathroom with him.

I wasn’t sure about the idea at first but I felt I had no choice. I had most of my cart unloaded on the belt and the line behind me was long and Quinn started his potty dance so I let them go.

I watched them walk off to the bathroom and said a little prayer that God would keep them safe from child molesters.

“Make sure to use the woman’s bathroom. THE WOMAN’S ROOM!” I yelled after Hayden. I then looked up at the cashier hoping for some support, hoping it would be a mom who would understand this struggle but all the young guy gave me was an eye roll and then another one.

Quickly, I emptied the rest of the cart onto the belt all the time watching for Hayden and Quinn to return and soon my gaze fell upon Hayden leaving the bathroom, alone.

I knew something was wrong so I told the cashier that I had to take my kids to the bathroom and ran with Jake and Claire in tow. I met Hayden on his walk back and asked, “Where is Quinn?”

Hayden, God love him, gave me a blank stare so I pushed past him to the bathroom only to find Quinn screaming at the top of his lungs, pants around his ankles, soaked and standing in a puddle.

I did the only thing I could do. I scooped him up and ran back to the cart hoping that by now, all the groceries where in bags and I could just pay and go. As we got closer to the cart, I realize that Claire in not beside me.

I looked up and saw her standing a few feet away from me in a puddle of her own.

“Mom, I peed,” she said once I was in ear shot.

I wanted to just run and hide. I wanted to wake up from this horrible dream but I couldn’t. This was real, this was my life.

So with Quinn still soaked and screaming, I deposited him in the cart, got back to Claire, deposited her in the cart, threw the grocery bags in the cart, paid, told the cashier that he  needed to call someone to clean up a pee puddle in the Ladies room and another one by the pony and left.

I smiled as sweetly as I could as we walked by the cashier but all I got was yet another eye roll.

So yeah, I. Am. Done.

Diapers in college, here they come.

I am sharing this with you as my Mortifying Mommy Moment and linking up with Mommy Mombo.

“What in the world are those boys doing?’ I asked Jeff as we drove down the street.

“What boys?” Jeff asked.

“Those boys, there in that yard with sticks, hitting that tree. What are they doing?” I asked again.

“Oh they are just hitting a tree with sticks,” Jeff said. “You have never seen boys hit a tree before?”

“No,” I said with an eye roll. “Why in the world would they be hitting a tree?”

“Well, because they can,” Jeff said.

After I gave him yet another eye roll, he went onto explain that he remembered hitting trees with sticks. It was just something that little boys did. According to him, it is fun to whack trees with sticks.

There are many things that I wanted to call the activity of hitting trees with sticks and fun was not one of them.

This conversation took place between Jeff and I before we had any children and there was just something about the imagine of those two boys standing in their front yard whacking a tree that was just so odd.

To me this seemed like a stupid thing to do. Why in the world would these boys think this was fun? It seemed dumb and even dangerous. What in the world was the point?

The whole situation just confused me. I just didn’t get it but soon this imagine left my head until I stepped out on the porch one afternoon and saw this.

Yup, that’s right there are my boys out in our front yard, whacking a tree with a stick and a sword.

Later that night, I told Jeff what the boys had been up to and reminded him of our conversation. And he seemed to beam with pride as he said, “See, I told you its fun. And its just something that boys like to do.”

I shook my head and realized that I am never going to understand boys.

Never.