Three Tiny Tyrants
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11/24/2019 0 Comments the return of elarooIt was a rainy day before Thanksgiving, so we decided to pull out the holiday decorations from the crawl space. In the process, we stumbled upon old toys I had stowed down there to make room in the madness that is three boys and their myriad of play things. Like an authoritarian state, every so often, something they haven't touched in awhile "disappears" in the middle of the night, thereby its disappearance going unnoticed and unprotested by the trio. Of course, our new discovery brought back the memory of these now FAVORITE toys that HAD to be brought back upstairs.
Among the toys to return from their dungeon was an annoyingly cheerful elephant ride on, whose batteries somehow still managed to work, and as it spun through its three pre-programmed ditties, I felt my eye begin a familiar twitch. "I LOVE TO MOVE AND PLAY! ARUUUUUU!!!" went the elephant, as I wondered if stabbing it through the eye would be the final death knell for its electronics. "YOU'RE A GREAT FRIEND!" said the elephant, creepily reading my thoughts. Little insisted Elaroo rejoin the land of current toys as he carried it upstairs and proceeded to plop down and push himself around, his now too big body of long arms and legs making Elaroo look like a tiny clown car. Tiny and Big immediately took notice and body slammed Little in their efforts to get a chance to "ride" on the toddler toy. Suddenly, chaos broke out in an all out war for the chance to sit on the elephant, finally prompting a five minute limit for each boy, during which they carefully timed each other's rides. I stopped plotting for Elaroo's demise as I watched the boys drive him off steps, crashing him nose-first into the wooden floors, certain that they would destroy it before I could. Except, they didn't. Somehow, Elaroo managed to not only survive these daily beatings, but thrive, cheerfully playing music, even when no one is near it, reminding me of its creepy existence. The trio now use Elaroo to annoy each other, as I observe in their interactions. As Big plays with toys in the kitchen, Little drives in on the elephant. "I'm riding my elephant!" he says triumphantly to his brother. "I don't care. It's annoying, anyway." Big replies, steadfastly refusing to look at Little. LIttle, obviously bothered by his inability to irk Big, continues riding closer, "OH. It's annoying, you say?" as he repeatedly punches the buttons, over and over, repeating the phrases and music, as if on a torturous loop, unending fabricated joy and mock elephant trumpets. My brain explodes and suddenly, I plot Elaroo's final moments, determined to make him disappear forever. "I think we should bring Elaroo to your new baby cousin, don't you think?" I say brightly, to the trio. Elaroo just stares at me with wide eyes before shouting, "I'M AN ELEPHANT! I LIKE TO ROOOOOOOO!"
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11/15/2019 0 Comments Monday NightAfter enjoying a three day weekend, where all appeared seemingly healthy, and we managed to consciously avoid germ infested petri dishes like Billy Beez, I truly anticipated a full night of sleep as Mon-day turned to eve. But, as I was to find out, there were other plans in store for me.
As we put the trio to bed, Tiny, despite a stern warning from The Enforcer, jumped yet again from his top bunk bed down to Little's bed, thereby making months of our predictions ring true as Little's bedframe broke and his mattress sagged to the floor. After calming Little and creating a nice "floor nest" for him out of his mattress and blankets next to Big's bed, we said goodnight. Around midnight, I was awoken by the cries of Big, whom upon further investigation, showed signs of a fever. I snuggled next to him for a few hours until his tossing and turning (and our general sleeplessness) made me believe that some Ibuprofen was a good idea. Mistake. Literally twenty minutes after administering the ibuprofen, Big sat up straight and looked at me with saucer eyes. As quickly as motherly possibly, I dragged him out of bed, only to trip over Little's sleeping body. I sprinted back up to grab Big, but it was no good. Chunky vomit sprayed everywhere. In an effort to reduce the spray, I sacrificially threw my body in front of him, catching about half of the vomit on my jammies. With that heave over, we raced down the hall to the bathroom so he could finish. By now, Big's wails of despair intermingled with gagging woke up the household. As I stripped off my vomit covered clothing and Big's, The Enforcer appeared, blearily rubbing his eyes. In what he would later claim to be a misunderstanding of the situation, he told us to head back to bed as he shuffled back to his own cozy, warm bed. I stared after him for a few seconds before shifting into Mommy middle-of-the-night Super Hero mode. After stripping the bed and cleaning up as many spots as I could find with a headlamp, I headed outside to shake out the chunks before washing the bedding, stuffies, jammies, and blankets that were in the line of fire. As I settled Big on the couch downstairs with a plastic bucket, we endured several more bouts which thankfully made it into the bucket. At this point (3am), Little awoke, calling for mommy. Unable to leave Big's vomiting side, I pleaded through the monitor for Little to just go back to sleep. Little did not. His cries increased to hysterics, to the point that I abandoned Big and ran upstairs to show Little that I was indeed still home. Tiny, also awake due to Little's hysterics, jealously asked me what Big and I were doing downstairs together. In my kindest 3 am mommy voice, I informed him that Big was vomiting and I was cleaning it up. Tiny then asked me to fetch him some water. I told him he could use the legs I grew him to go fetch his own water. Apparently I took too long to calm the upstairs contingent of the house, because at this point, Big came hysterically crying up the stairs from abandonment. I quickly told Tiny to lay with Little and calm him down as I flew back downstairs lest Big wander too far from his giant plastic vomit bucket. And so the night endured, Big and I and the vomit bucket downstairs on the couch, as I intermittently pleaded through the monitor for Tiny and Little to go back to sleep, until morning blissfully made an entrance and I kissed any sleep I thought that I or the trio might have goodbye. 7/17/2019 1 Comment July 17th, 201913 Phases of Packing For a Trip With Kids
1: Create lists of everything you need to do/pack for a week long trip with 3 children under the age of 8. Phase 2: Begin packing items identified in Phase 1. Phase 3: Frantically search house for items you KNOW you have from list created in Phase 1. Phase 4: Go to store and buy items you know you have but cannot find in your house to pack for trip. Kick yourself for unnecessary spending. Shrug shoulders and buy it again anyway. Phase 5: Repack items you already packed in Phase 2 but your children unpacked and are now strewn around your house. Threaten to cancel trip if children are not more helpful. Phase 6: Wait until very last minute to do final load of laundry so that Child #1 who only wears the same 4 shorts and 5 shirts has clean clothing for trip. Phase 7: Lose list of items that need to be packed. Frantically search house for list. Unable to find list, create new list. Develop nagging feeling that new list is not as good as original list and is missing items. Phase 8: Two hours before trip, pack remaining items. Phase 9: Wash dishes and clean house so you do not return to pigsty. Phase 10: Watch children dirty dishes and house you just cleaned. Threaten to cancel trip if children don't find something quiet and clean to do while you finish prepping for trip. Repeat Phase 9. Phase 11: Load car with luggage, snacks, water and children. Convince children to use bathroom before getting in car. Threaten to cancel trip when they argue about going to the bathroom. Phase 12: Car is loaded. Kids are buckled. Notice one child is missing shoes. Spend ten more minutes searching for shoes. Locate them in the darkest depths of living room, under a pillow. Phase 13: Congrats! You are ready for your trip! Only ten minutes to the first "How much longer?" Halfway to destination, threaten to cancel trip if asked how much longer again. In the car, driving down a country road in Pennsylvania
Tiny (from the back): I just saw a dead deer on the side of the road! Big: Well, maybe he was just sitting down... Tiny (monotone): It was lying on his side. It was dead. Big: Well, maybe he was just tired... Tiny: His eyes were closed and his tongue was sticking out. It was dead. Big: Well, maybe he was just hurt a little and getting better. Tiny: No. It was dead. Big: Well, maybe he was just hurt a lot and he is going to sleep awhile and get better. Tiny: NO. It was dead. Big: Maybe not. Maybe he's just waiting for someone to come help him. Tiny: IT. WAS. DEAD. Little (pipes up, now 5 minutes into the conversation and 5 miles down the road): WHERE'S THE DEAD DEER?!? 4/29/2019 0 Comments Of Turds and ToiletsFact of life when you have boys: bloody and/or bruised legs are a daily event.
As I walk Tiny inside from the latest backyard injury, I notify him that he is going straight into the shower to wash the caked on dirt and blood off of his legs. I clean his wound and get him in the shower. Little decides at that moment that he has to poop and despite the addition of two other unoccupied bathrooms in the house, he HAS to use the same bathroom that Tiny is showering in at that very moment. Little settles on his throne as Big wanders in with his toys and I decide that I might as well take advantage of proximity and bathe all three boys. Tiny finishes his shower while Little finishes his poop and I begin to simultaneously dry Tiny and fill the tub for Big and Little's bath, as Little streaks up and down the hallway in anticipation of his bath and Big spreads his tiny, foot numbing toys across the small bathroom floor, camouflaged like hidden mines in a green, inviting meadow. As the water fills, I convince Big and Little to get into the tub while Tiny makes a face at the toilet. Ewwww!!! You didn't flush your giant poop!" he shouts at Little, reaching out to flush the toilet. Cue hysterical giggles from Little in the tub. "Uh oh! Moooooooommmm!!" Upon hearing the cry for help, I abandon my mission for clean clothes and dash back into the bathroom to assess the situation, stumbling over three of Big's small, spiky toys that feel like they are made just to torture the unsuspecting soft underbelly of my unslippered feet. The toilet is backing up, and sure enough, a giant turd floats around, rising closer and closer to the lip of the lid. I ignore the pain in my arch, shoot downstairs to grab the plunger and return to find Little, dripping with water, dancing outside the tub. I throw the plunger into the toilet and plunge my heart out. Though I try to avoid the giant turd, it is to no avail. It sadly breaks up into little turd pieces, much to the amusement of Tiny, who is watching my battle with the toilet with great enthusiasm. I yell at Little to get back into the tub, suddenly realizing that the water is still running. As I glance back, I notice the water is now chest level, which Big is happily splashing over the edge. "Turn off the water!" I shout. Tiny must have thought I shouted bubble bath, because instead of turning off the water, he helpfully grabs the bubble bath and begins pouring it all over his brothers. "NO BUBBLE BATH!" I yell, snatching the bubble bath from his slippery hands and turning off the water myself. I turn back to my toilet battle to see the turdy water rising yet again. "AAAAAggggggg!!!!" My primal screams do nothing to de-clog the toilet, so I go at it again with the plunger. "BUBBLES!!" I hear LIttle shout over my soggy pumping action, as he gleefully jumps out of the tub, yet again, and begins dumping more bubble bath in the water. "NO! BUBBLES!" I scream again, in my fervor over the clogged toilet. Tiny stands mid-minefield and laughs, as I stumble back toward my newest foe, The Toilet, ignoring the pink bubble bath streaked across the tub and walls that now decorates most of the bathroom. "Hey! Where are my clean undies?" Tiny, in a sudden epiphany, pulls on my sleeve, realizing that he's naked, and dismissing the fact that I'm pretty busy and elbow deep in battle mode with the potty. I give him The Look. "I don't know! Go find them!" I tell him, turning back to my enemy, plunger in hand. I give the turdy toilet one final plunge and watch it finally secede in defeat. I raise my arms in victory and give Big's minefield of toys a satisfying kick across the room. I ignore the wet, dirty bathroom for a moment to enjoy my win and then, with the deep breath of a battle weary soldier, I head back to into the fray to finish the cleanup. 4/29/2019 0 Comments Uninterrupted Kid Conversations 1Big: "When I grow up, I want to be a snowplow boat driver so I can drive where it's cold and see the predators."
Little (has decided he wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up): "and then you'll bring them to my medical office." Big: "What? Why?" Little: "So I can make sure they are ok." Big: "But they'll eat me!" Little: "Just the baby animals." Big: "Ok. Just the baby animals." Little: "Like a saber toothed tiger." Big: "No! A saber toothed tiger mom will jump on me and bite me!" Tiny (from the top bunk bed): "It doesn't matter. Saber toothed tigers are extinct!" Little: "Oh yeah. Saber toothed tigers are extinct. Just like unicorns." Big: "Yep, they lived when the dinosaurs lived." Tiny: "UNICORNS AREN'T EXTINCT. THEY DON'T EXIST!" **30 SECONDS OF SILENCE** Little (matter of factly): "Well, when I'm a vet, I'll just invent unicorns." Tiny: "Ugghhhhhhhhhh….." Love is patient
Love is kind Love get frustrated repeating itself over and over Love accepts that repetition is how you learn Love is screams for Mama in the middle of the night Love is when she stumbles her way blindly through the dark Love is small sweaty arms wrapped around her neck Love is watching you fall peacefully back to sleep Love is the ache in her back the next morning Love is knowing she would do it again the next night Love is understanding that she is needed and that this need is fleeting Love is holding you accountable for your actions Love is being stern when she wants to be soft Love is letting you go when she wants to hold you tight Love is a messy house but bellies that are full Love is laundry that never ends Love is putting your needs ahead of her own Love is re-reading the same words until they are memory Love is telling you to get back up and try again Love is setting aside her duties to play again with you Love is an ache whenever you are not together Love is a full heart whenever you are Love is meals that no one eats Love is cooking them again and again Love is teaching you new things Love is pride in watching you learn Love is scared when she doesn't know what to do Love is worrying about you, always Love is staying strong for you, always Love is doing what is right, even when it's not easy Love is hugging you whenever, wherever, for as long as you need Love is dropping everything to be there Love is tired Love is overwhelmed, but Love is persistent Love will never, ever give up because her Love will never fail 3/13/2019 0 Comments Chocolate ChickenChocolate chicken has become a favorite meal and is oft requested by the Trio. Unfortunately, the origins of chocolate chicken have a much more deceptive tale, which I'm about to share. Over my years of imprisonment, I have become adept at sneaking snacks that I don't want to share and even more adept at covering for my mouthful of deliciousness when confronted by a member of the Tiny Tyrant squad. As such, several months ago, as I sat next to the grill and watched the Trio play outside, I snuck some pre-dinner chocolate. When I say sneak, I really mean cram an entire bar into my mouth at once so the evidence is gone. Of course, Tiny chose that very moment to seek me out over some minor transgression from his underlings. As I struggled to answer him through my mouthful of chocolate, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"What are you eating?" he asked with full knowledge that 10 minutes prior I had denied him snacks because dinner was cooking. I thought fast. "Chicken. Want some?" I lied through my chocolate covered teeth, gesturing toward the chicken cooking on the grill. Tiny's eyebrows furrowed with disbelief. "It doesn't smell like chicken. It smells like chocolate." he stated bluntly, staring at me with the hostility of an investigative reporter digging up some dirt. At the word "chocolate", Big and Little bounded up. "Can we have some chocolate?!?" they begged. With no other options, and caught in the act, I did what any other imprisoned parent would do. I doubled down on my lie. I finished swallowing my "chicken". "Well, it smells like chocolate because it's chocolate chicken!" I said brightly. "What's chocolate chicken?" Tiny asked dubiously. "It's this recipe. It's chicken marinated in spices with a chocolate rub." I announced, like a salesman, throwing in details for added credibility. "Ok." said Tiny, still standing in front of me expectantly. "Ok what?" I asked. "I'll taste sone chocolate chicken." he said. I swallowed. "Great!" I said, turning toward my grilling chicken, marinated in vinegar and seasoning. I pulled off the crispiest chunk I could find, hoping the charring would cover for my deception. Tiny took a tentative bite while Big and Little watched for a verdict. "Yum! It's good! Can I have more?" Dumfounded by the success of my dubious scheme, I stared at him for a moment before happily dishing out more "chocolate" chicken to the crew. And so, that night, chocolate chicken became a mainstay meal within the Kingdom, to this day, the monarchy ignorant of its true nature and its creator forced into many an awkward conversation with family and friends requesting the recipe. It usually goes something like this: Family member: "Yum! Did you say this has chocolate in it?" Me: "Um. Yes. Yes it does." Family member: "Can I have the recipe?" Me (pausing for a moment, attempting to communicate with my eyes to no avail): "Um. Sure. I'll give it to you later...." 3/3/2019 0 Comments A Small Taste of FreedomIncrementally, nearly without notice, small tokens of freedom have suddenly occurred within these walls. This never-ending winter, for instance, it finally came to me that with a little pre-planning, I could send the trio outside to play without having to suit up myself and treat myself to the sound of silence.
After a full 30 minutes of finding and dressing the three in snow appropriate gear, I give them strict parameters for their snow play: Stay in our backyard. No leaving our backyard. No going in other people's yards. If I say it three different ways, maybe one will stick. After minimal fussing and only fixing one boot and two gloves, the tiny tyrants race outdoors and I plant myself in front of the window to watch and rejoice in the momentary respite. Moments in, the trio discover a giant ice ball and I see Tiny locate a large metal shovel. As he drags it closer to his minions, I wonder if I should stop him. I run the numbers in my head, trying to calculate the risk factor and, ultimately, decide to let it go. I immediately regret my choice. Almost instantly, Tiny raises the shovel shoulder height and slams it down on the ice ball, inches from where Little's gloved hand is holding it. Picturing a future of severed fingers, I leap from my chair to yell at them. Just before I reach the door, nearly as instantly, Tiny discards the shovel and the three find interest elsewhere. I breathe a sigh of relief and head back to my chair, tripping over 16 Transformers scattered on the floor. I pick them up and go back to my watching chair. I scan the dotted landscape and look for the three. One....two....no three. I scan across the yard and count again, Tiny, Little....no Big. I race back to the door, hand on the handle, when a third red hat pops up from behind the woodpile. I decide to stay by the door, relinquishing my comfy chair by the window. At least there is the silence. No sooner do I think it then an ear splitting shriek rings out from the yard. Big stands, covered in snow, dripping down from an obvious snowball to the face, as Tiny, clearly the culprit, scurries away and feigns interest in something on the other side of the yard. Tearfully, Big makes his way to the door to rat out his devious brother. I wipe his face with my shirt and convince him to stay outside, calling to Tiny to apologize or lose his playtime. Tiny chooses the apology route as he stares at the ground and mumbles something akin to "umsuree" and then sprints away. The "umsuree" apology apparently pacifies Big as he stops crying and goes back to digging with his stick. As I head back inside, and turn around, Tiny breaks the one and only rule as he escapes from the backyard. I growl to myself and head to front door to tell him to get back in the yard. Tiny looks at me as though it's the first time he has heard this rule, informs me that I'm "mean" and runs back around the house. Ten minutes later, three saturated snow soldiers march back inside, leaving me with a pile of wet gear to hang up. I think about my great plan for freedom and wonder if it would have been easier to just suit up next time. 2/13/2019 0 Comments The Great Napkin StandoffIn prison life, I'm always on the go and never stopping. Responses to the tyrants during routines become muscle memory and take little to no thought as I auto-pilot my way through things like prepping for dinner. It's almost as though it takes more thought and restraint to say nothing than to say something.
Perhaps it was the snow, but something was in the air tonight as we prepped for dinner and Tiny immediately began setting the table without being reminded sixteen times. Of course, watching their fearless leader set the table made Big and Little desire to do the exact same thing at the exact same time. Big self selected a task while Little looked to my guidance. “But WHAT can I do?” he asked with dramatic flair. I glanced at the table, noticing that our very fancy meal of potato pancakes required forks AND knives AND spoons at each table setting, per Tiny's rampant setting. I made a mental note to put the unused silverware back in the drawer before dumping everything in the dishwasher. “Put napkins out.” I called over to Little. As Little jumped up, Tiny grabbed the opportunity to wield his power as he grabbed the napkins from Little's outstretched fingers. “I'm setting the table!” he yelled at his minion. With that, Little devolved into tears. I pleadingly asked Tiny to let Little set out the napkins. “But it's already done!” Tiny said, with a shake of his head, gesturing toward the completed task. Little's cries increased in volume. I sighed and listed off a few other tasks that Little could complete to help with the table. “I WANT TO DO THE NAPKINS!” he shouted, though hiccups and the biggest crocodile tears you ever did see. Big, trying to make the peace, began picking up the napkins and putting them away, but Tiny quickly snatched HIS napkin and placed it back by HIS plate. “Look! Now you can do the napkins!” said Big, peacefully. “BUT I WANT TO DO ALL THE NAPKINS!” Little moaned loudly, glaring meaningfully at the napkin sitting neatly at Tiny's spot. At a loss for any way to solve this problem, I strategically retreated back to the sink and said nothing as I listened to the standoff between Tiny and Little. Tiny protecting his napkin from replacement and Little's moans of despair becoming increasingly louder. For a few moments, no one moved. The only sounds in the room were the progressively loud cries emanating from Little's throat. Suddenly, Little's strategy won out as the monarch of the tyrants conceded. “Fine!” shouted Tiny, as he replaced HIS napkin in the napkin holder, “But I better get THE SAME napkin back!” Like a light-switch, Little's tears immediately stopped flowing and his voice returned to a normal pitch. “Ok!” he said happily, as the napkins setting began yet again and Tiny's eagle eyes carefully watched for his underling to make a mistake. With the great napkin standoff behind us, I returned to the table, bemused by what had passed, ready to store my strategy of non-involvement away for use another time. |
AuthorAnna Christine is a working mother of three boys. She is a teacher, writer, learner, and a fierce advocate for inclusion. Writing is her catharsis for the tough days of parenting. Her writing has appeared on ScaryMommy: Archives
January 2019
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