All three littles climb into my bed first thing in the morning and fight over who gets to touch me the most. Beside me isn't good enough; there has to be at least one appendage thrown over the top of my body that is now guarding its delicates.
I'm pretty sure someone's butt is next to my face. One of the twins is thrashing, causing me to cover my face and hope for the best. She proclaims, "We need better 'propossites.'" I chuckle because I understand what she's trying to say. When you've been a mom this long you, can understand an entirely made up language.
I tell her if she doesn't like the "propossite" she's in she could always go back to her bed. Like heck am I going to correct her. Who knows how much longer they will say "animals" and it's flipping adorable.
As we settle into our "propossites," one of the girls let's one rip. It's the one who is going through a denial phase and luckily not the one with the butt in my face. The other day she argued that she doesn't fart at all and I was like, "Who are you? My 90-year-old grandmother?!"
This makes me remember a friend's mom who insisted we called it "fluffing" and I laugh even more.
This may be a boy/girl difference, but the boy has thought passing gas was hilarious since before he could talk. I'd maybe like a little more discretion from him and less from the girls. Anyway, everybody just needs to own it and I'm forced to tell the story of the little boy who cried wolf. A lie is a lie however small and how will I be able to trust her on the big things if she lies about the little things.
It's a deep message mixed with an odd humor because the boy keeps inserting things into the story that make no sense, like an armadillo. I think some crocodiles make a cameo as well but there is definitely a tangent with an armadillo musical.
Some days I feel like I've fallen down Alice's rabbit hole. People are just shouting the first thing that comes to their mind and whether or not it makes sense or is relevant makes absolutely no difference. That, combined with the amount of people speaking, makes me close my eyes and think of Wonderland, listening to conversation and all of their ideas at once.
Someone announces through the fog that someone is stepping on their brain.
Colorful imagery and I can relate.
Kids are funny.
Time to change "propossites" and start our day.
Jen Reekie was born and raised in Quincy and received a communications degree at the University of Kansas, which has come in quite handy as she communicates every day with four children who don't hear a word she says. This stay-at-home mom enjoys the challenge, though, and shares her experiences in this blog, "Mum's the Word." She welcomes your feedback, questions and stories about staying sane while raising kids.