Kids do the darndest things | Page 11

My shy little goofball

October 28, 2009 by Kelli

Today Tia got to wear her costume to school. She’s Princess Leia.

She has been so excited about it all week.

This morning, she put on her costume an hour before we had to leave and asked that I take her picture:

She was most excited about her “for weal” Princess Leia hair.

“Thsee mom? I wook just wike Pintheth Yay-ya,” she said.

When we got in the car to go to school she asked me 100 times if I remembered her Princess Leia hair.

When we arrived, I secured it to her adorable little head and in we marched.

Then…

Someone laughed and told her she looked adorable…

And someone else told her she looked just like her older brother in that wig…

And someone else clutched her chest and grinned as she walked past…

And before we even made it to her room, Tia yanked the wig off her head and thrust it at me.

“I not want to wear it anymore,” she said.

And no amount of assurances that people were only smiling because they thought she looked cute would convince her to put it back on.

So I fashioned her hair into two pigtails and sent her on her way sans wig. Then I went to the lobby to wait for her class to return and show off their costumes and sing us a few songs.

Apparently she went to the bathroom before coming out to sing because her dress was tucked into her pants.

And instead of singing the songs that she’s been so boldly performing for us at home, she sucked on her finger.

And then she got tired and sat down.

The End.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Halloween, Holidays, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Tia

In January 2007, St. Louis had a massive ice storm. Lee was out of town that weekend (naturally – don’t crazy things always happen when your husband is out of town?) and I was alone with a then 3 year old Sloan and 11 month old Tia.

In the dead of night, ice fell from the sky in frigid sheets, layering already weak trees (as it was the second big ice storm of the season) with several pounds of frost. About 4:00 that morning, I awoke to realize that the power was out and the house was very cold. Outside my window, I heard a pop and saw a flash of blue and realized a transformer had just blown.

And then I heard the sickening crunch of a tree branch slicing through our roof (it didn’t come into the house, thankfully, but went through the over hang barely a foot from where my bed lay).

It was then that Sloan woke up and raced out of his room exclaiming – “Mommy, blue monsters are throwing ice at our house!”

Then we looked out the window to see a crazy mess with downed trees and branches all over our yard, driveway and roof.

And from then on, my child was altered forever more. He became terrified of storms. The tiniest flash of lightening sends him into a frenzy and with a rumble of thunder he begins nervously talking a mile a minute, his panicked voice reaching ear piercing decibles.

He is equally obsessed with the weather. I assume it’s because he is trying to keep his enemy close, but he loves to read books about tornadoes and hurricanes, tsunamis and floods. I’ve caught him on more than one occasion watching the weather channel and he frequently gives me updates on the weather in different parts of the country.

“Hey mom, did you know Florida is having a tropical storm? That’s like a hurricane only it’s not really a hurricane. Good thing we’re not there, huh?”

So, it was with great terror that we got caught in a doozy of a storm on Saturday. I had taken the kids to buy Halloween costumes (another story for another day but seriously – costumes are ridiculously overpriced. Why have I never learned to sew!?!) and we were on our way home when literally out of nowhere the heavens opened and released with great fury, directly over my (hot) minivan.

As a bolt of lightening streaked across the sky, Sloan yelped from the backseat, “Mom! Lightening. We gotta get home now!”

“I know, honey, I’m trying,” was my reply. To which I heard, “Hey mom. I’m pretty sure a tornado is coming so if you see it, you have to turn the car around and rive away from it.”

Me: “Okay, babe, I got it.”

Sloan: “Mom. In case a tornado does come and we get sucked up, cover your head with your hands to protect it.”

Me: “We’re not going to get sucked up, Sloan.”

Sloan: “But we might-”

It was then that the hail started. Large balls of ice began pelting my car along with alligator size raindrops reducing my visibility to almost 0. It was loud and ferocious and I found myself lamenting the fact that for years I’ve been praying that a hail storm would center itself over my house so insurance would cover a new roof and instead it was centered over my defenseless (but hot) minivan.

And over the racket of the storm this is what I heard in the backseat:

Tia (with her hands squeezed over her ears): I’n stewrd mommy! I’n woody stewrd.”

Landon (looking around with furrowed brow): “Woooowww!”

Sloan (eyes so wide they threaten to swallow his face): “HAIL MOMMY. HAIL MOMMY! HAIL! MOMMY! WE’VE GOT HAIL!”

Me: “It’s okay, it’ll be over soon.”

Sloan: “JUST PRAY TO GOD MOM! PRAY. TO. GOD!!!”

Me: “You pray, I’ve got to drive.” (Mind you we’re shouting at one another because the noise is deafening)

And in the rearview mirror I watch my 6 year old fold his hands and press them to his forehead beseeching God to rescue us from what he sees to be imminent death by thunderstorm.

And the whole situation strikes me as so funny that I start cracking up, as I sometimes tend to do when I’m nervous or upset, whilst all along keeping my eyes firmly glued to the barely visible red tail lights of the car in front of me.

Then, two miles up the road, the clouds in the sky parted, giving way to nothing more than a light drizzle. I look back in the mirror at my shell shocked crew and find Tia still has her ears covered and eyes closed, Landon is grinning from ear to ear and Sloan looks utterly amazed.

When he catches my eye, Sloan slowly grins, then pumps his fist in the air. “That was awesome!” he exclaimed. “That was the big one and I wasn’t scared at all.”

Uh-huh. Right.

And that, my friends is the story of the day we survived the ‘big one’. All it took was a few “Hail Mommy’s” and a prayer.

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Random, Sloan

Balancing Act

September 23, 2009 by Kelli

I’ve noticed recently that I have quite a few more readers following my blog on a daily basis than I realized. I mean, I’m not experiencing mutliple thousands of hits per day, but my readership has increased significantly in the last few months.

While I’m grateful for this fact, as I’d always hoped to turn this more into a creative outlet for my writing and less of a family journal, I also feel a lot more pressure on a day to day basis because of it. I find myself thinking of things to write and then talking myself out of it because I’m not really sure if anyone would actually want to read about said topic or it seems funny in my head, but translating it onto cyber-paper loses the effect.

Whatever the case, I do find myself thinking a lot more about my words, how I write and how much I really want to share with the world.

I enjoy writing about my kids more than anything, because…well, because they’re funny. For example, yesterday Sloan came home and told us that the girl from iCarly is hot. When Lee asked him what that meant he replied, “Uh, you know it means she’s, like, really awful…Really, I just like to say that she’s hot!”

Six year olds say funny things and I love to capture those things so that someday, when he’s all grown up and we are at his rehearsal dinner the night before his wedding, I’ll be able to read some of the funny things he said and reminisce about the boy that he once was.

But there is a balance on how much I share about my kids. I try to think clearly through how they might feel about what I wrote for the world to read when they get older. I want them to laugh at these stories – I don’t want them to be embarrassed.

So, sometimes, I keep things to myself. Even if they’re funny. There have been a couple of times when I’ve contemplated writing about a particular struggle or disciplinary issue, in the hopes of getting some insight or wisdom or understanding from other parents, but have refrained eventually because I don’t want my kids to look back and be ashamed or humiliated by my words.

This is a balancing act.

I also enjoy writing about motherhood issues because that’s where I am right now. I’m in the thick of this thing called motherhood and it’s so nice to know that I’m not the only one who sometimes feels isolated. Blogging has become my lifeline to a world outside the walls of my home. There are some days when I get so discouraged as I look at the caller ID on my phone and realize no one’s called my house in two days. But then I see that I have several comments on my blog and my spirits are lifted, because, while it’s not as personal, it’s still a connection.

Motherhood can be lonely sometimes, yes?

My conundrum with writing about all things motherhood, however, is that I often feel like I don’t have that much to say. I don’t have any innovative child rearing tactics. I’m thankful each evening when I tuck them in to bed that they’re all still alive! I do aim to mother with purpose, but I don’t feel like I’m a good cheerleader on the sidelines of the motherhood game.

I’m more like the pimple faced, uncoordinated kid who stumbles around the field and every once in awhile bounces the ball off her foot and falls into the end zone.

What I mean is – I have a plan in my parenting, but I don’t have an excellent plan book so sharing mothering advice seems daunting to me. I don’t have great discipline techniques or fun, crafty ideas, or cute recipes. I don’t have great advice for getting your kids to clean up their rooms or how to make them eat broccoli without bitter weeping and gnashing of teeth.

I can, however, write about each of these issues in such a way that we can all chuckle together at the hilarity of parenting. For example, while I can’t give you point by point advice on how to get your child to obey you immediately, I can tell you that yesterday, when I told Landon to give me the penny that he found and was playing with, he promptly shoved it in his mouth and swallowed it. Um – a little dangerous? Yes. A little funny? Uh-huh. Because I’m now on poop patrol to make sure that the penny passes.

I find that funny.

Moving on…I love to blog about the fun things that happen in our lives. Lee and I are so blessed – were blessed far beyond what I ever imagined we would be. We are not rich…but we are not poor. We have three healthy, beautiful, hilarious kids, a house that meets our needs, faithful and wise friends and we laugh every. single. day. Our life is wonderful.

And so I blog about it. I try to keep the blog light and fun, but OY! There’s pressure even in that. I find myself sitting at the computer, staring at a blank screen, begging myself to think of something funny to say. And sometimes I come up dry. So somedays I’m just not going to be funny. Somedays I don’t feel funny. Like today. Sorry.

There are other things I like to write about like, for example, politics. But we all saw how that went for me the last time I did it, so I try to keep my political ramblings to a minimum because I want my blog to be a happy place. There will be times when I share my views because, ahem, this is my blog. But, in general, I try not to go overboard with the politics.

Blogging is great. It’s fun, it gives me some sense that I’m pursuing my passion, I’m making a little money, I’m keeping a record of my children’s lives and I’m working out some of the kinks in my head. But I am also balancing the act of sharing the right amount of information. It is a delicate balance, but, so far, I think it’s going alright.

So what about you? How do you balance the art of sharing your lives without sharing too much?

Filed Under: Blogging, Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Landon, Life, Motherhood, Random, Sloan

Photographic evidence that gymnastics was a good idea

September 10, 2009 by Kelli

Yesterday, I looked out the window and caught Tia like this:

So today, I took her here:

To do stuff like this:

I spent many years coaching gymnastics at the competitive level in a gym that has produced two Olympians. I don’t have high aspirations for my child to become an Olympic gymnast, primarily because I’m pretty she’ll outgrow most Olympians by the time she’s in 4th grade.

But for now? Gymnastics is a great outlet for her unending energy and her constant desire to climb up, flip over and jump off of anything she sees. I’d sign her up everyday if I could afford it. She had a blast.

I’m off for a few days dear internets. I’m headed to Texas for a little R & R with some dear friends. Enjoy your weekends. Hug your babies tomorrow and if you see someone in the armed forces, let them know that you appreciate them for their service to our country.

We have not forgotten!

Filed Under: Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Random, Tia

I laughed till I cried…

August 19, 2009 by Kelli

This morning we took Tia in for the procedure to clean out her ears. I was a little apprehensive before going in. It seemed like such a silly thing to do, putting our child out just to clean her ears. And because none of my children have ever been under anesthesia, I was just a little fearful about how she might react.

I needn’t worry. In fact, the morning was down right enjoyable…at least for Lee and I. Not only was it enjoyable, it was hysterical. Hys-ter-i-cal.

Because we know of Tia’s penchant for freaking out at the last minute, we decided to let them give her a sedative to ease her nerves before taking her back for anesthesia. Now, I’m not one for medicating my children. In fact, I generally try to not give them any medications unless they absolutely need it. So don’t think I’m a terrible parent for what I’m about to tell you.

Every parent should have the opportunity, just once, to see their child under the influence of a sedative. Because it’s about the funniest thing you’ll ever see in your life.

And no, I’m not advocating drugging children for fun. ‘Kay? So no one get bent out of shape. I’m just sayin’. It’s pretty daggum funny.

All that to say, seeing my daughter drugged was one of the sweetest, most hilarious things I’ve ever witnessed in my life. She wasn’t just punchy, she was just plain out of it. Giggling, waving her head around, making funny faces and so on…I laughed until tears streamed down my cheeks. It was awesome.

I didn’t have the video camera with me, unfortunately, but I did take some video with my camera and as soon as I figure out how to download it, I will share. Because, seriously – it was hysterical. At one point she waved her hand in front of her face and found that to be the oddest, funniest thing she’s ever seen. She kept waving it back and forth in front of her eyes, giggling the whole time. When we asked her her name she said, “Bootiful Tia,” then broke out in a peal of silly laughter. When we asked her her brother’s names she answered, “Bootie,” then dropped her head back and let out a high pitched, totally un-Tia-like giggle. Awesome. Just awesome.

On top of having a thoroughly entertaining morning, the doctor was able to fully clean out Tia’s ears and informed us that she did indeed have severely impacted wax and that she was likely experiencing a 25 decibel hearing loss because of it. So we were very glad that we had the procedure done, even if it did seem extreme.

So now we’re home and the drugs have worn off and Tia is back to her old self, tormenting her brother playing with her brother and having a good old time. She doesn’t remember anything about the procedure and has no pain. She’s a little groggy, but a good nap this afternoon will take care of that.

And I now have one more memory of her childhood that I’ll take with me to my grave.

Filed Under: funny stuff that happens, Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood, Tia Tagged With: ent, waxy ears

The one with all the vomit – and other funny stuff…

July 24, 2009 by Kelli

It is amazing to me how two children from the same two parents can be so very different.

Sloan has a penchant for melodrama. He gets that from me. I know you’re shocked. I’ll give you a minute to let that bit of information sink in before we move on…

Better? Yes, as a child I tended to be slightly over dramatic about a few everything. I like to think of myself as a passionate person. And Sloan is my passionate child. Thus the reason he and I butt heads constantly. I’m positive my parents prayed fervantly that I ended up with a child just like me.

Tia, on the other hand, is relatively even-keeled. Unless she loses a race or gets beat in a game, then the gloves come off and she releases with a mighty fury. She only slightly competitive – just slightly like her daddy.

But when it comes to things like falling down, getting sick, etc… She’s our tough one.

When Sloan throws up, the world will know. There is great wailing and gnashing of teeth. There is a fair amount of bemoaning (Why did I have to get sick?) and he makes it plenty obvious that he’s not happy. And I can appreciate that – I really can.

So when Tia started throwing up last night, I braced myself for the hysterics. But they never came. In fact, we didn’t even know she had a stomach ache. (This is the same child who, the last time she got the stomach flu, threw up in her bed and went back to sleep in it – we never knew she’d gotten sick!) And as I held her over the sink and washed her mouth off, our conversation went like this:

Me: Are you feeling better now?
Tia: Yes. (heaves and spews)
Me: Does your tummy still hurt?
Tia: No (heaves and spews)
Me: Do you want a little drink?
Tia: No – I want to go night-night. (heaves and spews)

Sweet little girl threw up on and off all night last night, and each time she leaned her head over her bowl, took care of business, then rolled over and went back to sleep with hardly a word.

Yes – they are different. Both sweet and spicey in their own little ways.

_________________________________________________________

In other, slightly less disgusting news, Sloan and I had an interesting discussion yesterday. I won’t recount the whole thing because it’s not entirely appropriate for this public platform, but let’s just say it involved him giggling over the word penis.

Boys! Honestly, they don’t have to be taught do they?

And finally, this morning I took my brood (yes, even the sicko) to the Social Security office where I had to get all of our cards replaced due to them being stolen last year. That’s fuuuuun.

As we left, we walked past a man taking a smoke break. And my terribly un-shy 6-year-old piped up, “Why do you have a smoker? Don’t you know that’s bad for you? It makes your lungs black.”

Out of the mouth’s of babes…

Filed Under: Gross, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Sickness, Tia Tagged With: kids say the darndest things, stomach flu

Can I Just Go Back to Bed?

May 13, 2009 by Kelli

*updated pictures below – it’s not any better.

I woke up this morning to a very quiet house. It was 7:00 and I thought, wow – today’s gonna be a good day.

I was wrong…

As I was getting dressed, Sloan came in to my room and said, “Mom, look at Tia’s hair. It’s short!”

He cut her hair off. He cut it off.

I just started crying and sent them out of the room. I know it’s just hair, but I love her hair. I love pigtails and braids. These are the things I love about having a girl. And I’m just so sad. Here are pictures for now. I’ll post more after I’ve taken her to the salon and had them do whatever they can with it. Pray for me!

Too bad the mullet is no longer in style

Why couldn't he have done this on the other side?

The bag of her hair that I'm crying over

I was hoping that blogging about it would make me feel better. But it didn’t. In fact, looking at the pictures has brought on fresh tears. *sigh* I guess I’ll find this funny someday?

Bad Dorothy Hammel haircut. Notice how the right side is significantly shorter than the left?

She's going to have to get used to head bands.

Filed Under: discipline, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood, Sloan, Tia

Sick and Twisted or Just Plain Funny?

April 28, 2009 by Kelli

When I was thirteen, I got a babysitting job for some neighbors that lived down the street. After hanging up the phone, I checked the calendar and realized that *gasp* I had just agreed to baby-sit on Friday the 13^th.

I handled this realization with typical teenage aplomb, dramatically lamenting about how horrible and terrible it would be. I was all, “Ohmyga, like, it’s gonna be soooooooo scary to baby-sit on, like, Friday the 13^th. Like, what am I gonna do – like…?”

I think my parents responded with an eye roll and snicker. Heartless.

Finally, the big day arrived. I had asked a friend to go with me because I figured there was power in numbers and if any crazed psychopaths came knocking on our door I could sacrifice her and run for my life.

Once we finally settled the baby in his bed, we sat down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and put in a documentary on the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Why did we choose to watch that? Hard to say – that’s a part of this memory that baffles me. All I know is that just as the shot rang out on the grassy knoll, we heard it – a scratching sound on the back porch.

Both of us froze, afraid to even glance at one another. Then we heard the bang of a chair falling over. My friend yelped and jumped on top of me. I pulled a pillow over my face and the bowl of popcorn thudded to the floor. It was like a bad horror movie when everything slowed down. I could hear nothing but the rapid beating of my heart.

“What should we do?” my friend gasped.

“I’ll run upstairs and grab the baby – you call 911,” I replied, my breathing ragged.

“How about I go get the baby and you stay down here with the killer?” my friend said back. Clearly, neither one of us was feeling overly self-sacrificial.

At that moment, three short raps rang from the back door. At this point, my friend is nearly in tears, her face hidden in her hands. I poked my head out from under the pillow and could see the silhouette of a man standing on the other side of the glass. I was just about to let loose the blood curdling scream that only a girl of 13 could produce when I heard, “Kelli? Let me in – it’s cold out here.”

It was my FATHER. In a sick and twisted moment of cruelty, he thought it would be a good idea to come over and scare us, knowing how dramatic we had been about babysitting that night.

After opening the door and giving him an earful (Dad, like you are soooooo lame. We were, like, tooootally gonna call the cops on you, blah, blah, blah) I giggled a little, because, well, it was pretty funny.

My dad was notorious for scaring the ever lovin’ life out of us as kids. My brother, who was terrified of “basement monsters,” would creep down the stairs only to come tearing back up when my dad would let out a howl from behind him. My dad found an odd measure of glee in watching us scream in terror. And the funny part is that even though he genuinely scared us senseless, we always came back for more. There was something oddly comforting about being so scared, yet deep down knowing we were just fine.

And, I have to admit, now that I’m a parent – it is pretty funny. Last week, our back door, which hadn’t been closed all the way, blew open in a gust of wind.

“Maybe it’s a ghost,” I whispered to my kids and I crept slowly to the door. Gripping the knob, I yanked it all the way open and let out a piercing scream. Sloan screamed too, his eyes wide with terror. When he realized I was joking, he broke out in a peal of delighted laughter.

Tia, however, did not appreciate the twisted humor. She glared at me for half an hour and refused to sit next to me at lunch. For some reason this made me laugh even more. (And I did apologize to her later – I’m not totally heartless.)

I’m not sure what it is, but giving your kids a healthy little scare is just hilarious. Perhaps it’s a little payback for the sleepless nights? Or maybe, as in my case, it’s the perpetuating of a cycle that started long ago with my own father. Whatever it is, to hear their little screams and then listen to them break out in short little bursts of fearful laughter-those are good times. Or maybe that’s just me…

After all, I am a little sick and twisted.

Filed Under: blast from the past, Family, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Motherhood Tagged With: Friday the 13th, humor, Kids, scared

Easter Blunder

April 13, 2009 by Kelli

I loved Easter as a kid. My parents made it a big deal in our house. There were new dresses and bonnets (for me, not for my brother ’cause that would’ve been weird); baskets filled with goodies magically appeared on the fireplace on Easter morning, and, of course, we headed to church where there was always a feeling of excitement and joy in the air as we celebrated our risen Lord.

I try to create an equal amount of excitment and joy for my kids and it seems to be working. They had a wonderful Easter weekend filled with family, food and laughter. We are thrilled to have my brother in town for a little while. Sloan has been wanting to have a Star Wars party with his Uncle Brett for a long time now, ever since he found out that Brett liked Star Wars when he was a little boy too. So Friday night we made a cake, got some decorations and watched Star Wars together. The kids had a blast – and so did the grown-ups! We even played pin the voice box on Darth Vader. It’s a slightly odd way to celebrate Easter weekend, I’ll admit.

On Easter Sunday, I got up at the crack of dawn to make sure I had everything ready for everyone because I had to be at church by 7:45 to prepare for morning worship. By 7:15, everyone was dressed and the obligatory photos were taken. The Easter Bunny left a note the night before telling the kids that he took their baskets to Boss and Bushka’s house (my parents) so thankfully we didn’t have to deal with that.

Here are our sweet Easter photos:

Dress #1

Tia in her Easter bonnet, which she didn't want to wear because she was afraid it would mess up her hair.

: The Brothers Stuart: Aren’t they handsome?

My babies

: Dress #2

What’s with Dress # 1 & 2, you ask? Well, therein lies the blunder. After I left for church, with my brood dressed and ready to go, I got to church anticipating their arrival at the 9:00 am service. But, my dear readers, my husband made a classic male mistake.

Because they were ready so early, he decided to swing through Starbucks on the way to church. And, because he was feeling so joyous and relaxed, he decided to bless his children by getting them hot cocoa.

Oh yes he did!

Somehow he forgot that our daughter is the. messiest. child on planet Earth. Thus, when they pulled into the church parking lot and he glanced back, he noticed she had spilled hot cocoa all down her dress.

So he took her home where he frantically tried to get the stain out of the Easter dress that I had so lovingly picked out – much to no avail. Thus dress #2. We are still working on the stain on the other dress. *sigh* Boys. Oh well – after I got over the initial annoyance, I actually found the situation quite amusing because only a daddy would think that giving a child hot cocoa in the car in her Easter dress was a good idea. Lee was sheepishly apologetic and we’ve been laughing about it since.

Hope you all had wonderful Easters filled with joy and laughter, and minus irreparable stains.

*sorry about the photos not all being in order. I get the distinct impression that WordPress might hate me. I’m still learning.

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Marriage, Tia

The Mathematical Probability of Interruption

April 7, 2009 by Kelli

I have a theory I’d like to posit. And no, I’m not sure if I spelled or used the word “posit” correctly – moving on.

Without fail, when I make the concerted effort to get up early in the morning so I can have a quiet time or do some writing, my kids also wake up extra early.

Undoubtably, if I sit down for a moment midday to rest, read a book, read blogs, write, someone will fall down and skin their knee, need a drink, have to use the bathroom, or, as is the case right now with Landon, just suddenly need a few extra snuggles (which I am gladly doling out so this post may take forever to finish).

Okay, I’m back and let me just say that I just got some of the sweetest kisses and hugs from that precious baby. Wow…I hope he’s not getting sick.

Anyway, I posted a status update on my Facebook page the other day regarding this particular phenomenon and received a fascinating response from one of my friends that got me thinking. Her idea was that children can sense a change in air pressure, so if we move early in the morning, it stirs them. While I find this to be a fascinating theory, I’d like to take it a step further.

Thus, I have now established The Probability of Interruption, which I feel certain should eventually be adopted as a true Theory. Or not. I don’t know much about that sort of thing, actually. I’ve always been a literature kind of gal. Me and math are not friends.

The Probability of Interruption states that as the heartrate of the mother, the bpm (beats per minute), rises and falls, so will the bpm of the child also rise in fall in opposite and similar effect.

Got it? No?

An example – this morning, I took my resting heart rate when I woke up. I had a resting bpm of 56. Once I rose and moved around enough to use the bathroom, get dressed, come out to the computer and sit down, my bpm had risen to about 62.

And Tia woke up. Even though it was quite early and she went to bed late last night, she still woke up. Why is this? Why, it’s because of The Probability of Interruption. As my heart rate rose, do did hers. Though I made little to no noise, she was stirred from her slumber. In this instance, her heart rate rose in similar effect to mine.

Now, after rushing to get everyone ready for the day and Sloan out the door, my bpm was at roughly 68. I sat down at the computer and after 5 minutes of sitting, it had fallen back down to 63. It was at this precise moment that Tia hit her brother and he came to me crying. Moments after dealing with that, both children were in need of a drink. Why is this? Because…you got it! The Probability of Interruption. As my heart rate dropped, the kids’ bpm’s rose in opposite effect thereby causing inappropriate behavior and the metabolic need for sustenance.

This is why I have such a difficult time getting anything done. If I want to clean, someone will ultimately thwart that plan. If I want to take a shower, you can be sure that someone will pull open the shower door with some sort of desperate need – all because as my heart rate slowed into a relaxed state, theirs rose into an agitated state, thus necessitating (?) the need to interrupt my reverie.

So, in effect, The Probability of Interruption pretty much guarantees that for the rest of my life, I will likely be interrupted any time I begin to get too comfortable. My theory obviously proves that as fact.

And, while this theory can have some mild effect on fathers, it appears that mostly and mainly The Probability of Interruption applies to mothers alone. Even if dad is the one to wake up early and mom’s bpm remains in the resting state, the children will most likely either sleep through dad’s movement, or they will wake up due to the noise that dad inevitably makes and come wake mom up rather than disturb dad.

So there you have it, ladies. You now have scientific evidence that your children are hard wired to make sure that you never fully accomplish anything to the full extent. Oh, and incidentally, this theory works just as equally if mom is doing anything that raises her heart rate. This means that you and your husband will most likely want to make judicious use of the lock on your bedroom door if you get my drift…and I think you do. (blush)

Now I’ve embarrassed myself and my bpm is surely rising because the kids are going wild. Gotta go!

Filed Under: Family, Kids, Kids do the darndest things, Life, Motherhood, Random