Slap Chop

"Don't have boring tuna, don't have a boring life."

I heard this off-beat statement today on an infommercial for the "Slap Chop." The announcer proudly exclaimed this lesser known wisdom when he added a bit of carrot and celery to some ordinary canned tuna. I don't own a Slap Chop, but that is ok, I don't eat tuna either. Does that mean I don't have a boring life?

It got me thinking about a statement a former boss said to me when I told him I was going to leave my corporate sales job to become a stay at home mom. This job involved me traveling about a week per month, taking me from my son and soon-to-arrive daughter.

His response: "That is great. Just, don't become boring. All the stay at home moms I know are boring. They don't have anything to talk about except their kids."

Let me put the statement into perspective for you, even though I am sure those that are reading this probably have enough perspective already. The man had never been married and had no children. He had never had to sacrifice himself for someone he loved.

When he said that to me, I responded by saying, "Ok." I walked out of this office. As days passed and my maternity leave approached, I began to get a tad incensed and irritated. How dare he? I stayed agitated at that man for several years. Who was he to make such a gross demeaning generalization of women of the home?

I ran into him about 5 years after leaving that job. During our conversation, I found myself thinking about every word that came out of my mouth. What did I have to show for 5 years of mothering except the birth of a 3rd child? How can I make changing diapers, fixing dinner every night and mopping spilled giblets of food off the floor sound exotic? I mumbled to him about shuttling my kids around, being busy with their activities, running our house ...and ...and...and...and... whoa! I had nothing else to say to him. I could see it written on his face. B-O-R-I-N-G.

I admit, I walked away with my head hung a bit low. Had I moved from slightly hip and worldly to slightly dowdy and simple? Had my life become boring canned tuna? I remember this time as a life marking one. It was when I realized that life is never boring, never dull, never dowdy, never plain, when you are doing the will of God. That former boss may have seen it as such, and I did, too, when I put on the world's glasses. Yet, when I removed those glasses, sat down and communed with Him, there was peace. I was right where I was supposed to be - at home with my children. I had a pure joy and peace despite the crazy chaos of 3 children under the age of 5. Who cares what my life looked like to others? Right? Give me boring canned tuna any day, if that is His will.

Quotable quotes

Walking into my bedroom, Lily said: "I am going to play tag with...with...with...nonone, I guess." Then she walked out of my room saying. "Tag. Tag. Tag." to imaginary people along the way.

When I picked up Lily yesterday she announced, "I got candy today. I was an O+ girl!" I love that she thrives on the doing well. I see a lot of growth in her consistency and handwriting. Yay for my little O+ girl!

Sadie has recently learned about the layers of the earth. Clearly in her element, she gobbled up every last bit of information taught to her, spewing the knowledge all over me each afternoon. Today, she was showing a healing wound on her leg to her grandfather. It was a little cracked looking and she remarked to him that it looked like the, "electronic plates" of the earth's crust. I smiled and asked, "Do you mean tectonic plates?" "Oh, yeah," she said.

Ethan has been "Mister Inquisitive" these days. I find myself navigating our vehicle through the streets of our town and to and from school trying to come up with the answers that are accurate, on a 9-year old level, and complete enough to cease the questions. Often, I am frustrated. If someone can help me, I would appreciate it. Here are some recent topics: What is the mortgage crisis? Why does someone drink alcohol/get drunk? Why did the South want slavery? What do they keep talking about healthcare reform? This last question's obvious answer then leads to, "Then what is the bill going to do?" and "Why do some people not want it?" Maybe we should just stop talking about current events and watching the news until he can figure it out on his own.

Things I Swore I Would Never Do...Part ???

I don't know how many times I have written about something that I have recently done that I swore at some previous time in my life that I would never, ever do. Some call this eating crow. Some use the expression, "Never say never!" I just say, "You live, you learn...you stop saying never!"


This weekend I packed my two oldest children and headed out of town to attend a sporting event in which they participated. I am now a traveling sports mom. Groan. What makes this a first for us is that 1) it was overnight, therefore requiring a hotel room and 2) two children participated on both Saturday and Sunday. Jay and Lily stayed at home giving them a rare weekend together that included tea parties and lots of snuggle.

My main beef with this entire "traveling for a child's sporting event" is that it breaks apart families when the weekend is when families spend the most time together. I can add that it seems ridiculous to devote time to a sport at such a young age (8 and 9). Finally, it costs money. However, in the land of swimming, "our sport", it is what it is. You can't really compete in swimming year round by staying only in our little town.

So, what made me change my mind a bit on this issue? Several moments during the weekend, actually. Here are some funny moments from the weekend:


As we make our way east, the kids are pumped and we make a stop at Sheetz to pick up a light lunch and gas up. Their coach probably doesn't need to know this because Sheetz, with "s" replaced with "z'" in every possible written instance, is not exactly the top of the food chart of healthy eating. However, my kids think that the ordering at the gas pump is the coolest thing since sliced bread and thus a bonus point for mom.

At the pool, I get drafted to help the team get the swimmers to their events on time. One of the coaches gets me a volunteer sticker and I place it on my chest without too much thought. After I have walked throughout the arena, I look down and gasp. My tag reads, "Star Kid Pusher." Yeah, you read that correctly...KID PUSHER. Does that sound like I am at a swim meet or that I am ready for DSS to carry me away?!? It made me laugh as well as my kids...a LOT.


The next highlight came after the meet when we checked into the hotel. My kids really haven't stayed in many hotels as we tend to opt for condos or houses on vacations. I had not realized that. They are acting like it is Christmas morning as we walked down the hall of our hotel to our room. As they burst through the door, they started running around. "Mom, look it's a bed!" "Mom, we have our own coffee maker!" "Mom! Did you see the bathroom?" "Mom, is that a sofa?." I nearly fell on the floor laughing, because you know, they have never seen a sofa, or coffee maker or gasp...a bed in a hotel room. They quickly claimed their spots - Ethan in the king bed with me and Sadie on the pull-out sofa (another WOW moment when that magically appeared).


Another highlight was dinner out with several of our teammates after day 1. What made this nice was that the other families also attend my kids' school. The kids all got along and the adults had enjoyable conversations. I will add that it was the first time my son, 9, ordered from the children's menu, completely devoured his meal (ribs) and had to order more food. I guess he will be an adult menu orderer from now on, which means paying adult menu prices.


The three of us hit the hay back at the hotel by 9:30 after I was subjected to some really bizarro cartoon on the cartoon network. You are definitely limited by what you can watch in a one-room hotel room with kids. The show is called "The Secret Saturdays" and it is just strange.


During the night, Ethan was all over the bed we were sharing. Tossing, turning, kicking pushing and mumbling. I don't know how many times I shoved him to the other side of the king-sized bed only to find him right back next to me seemingly within minutes. Finally, I sat up and with a slightly elevated voice said, "Ethan, that is enough. You have to stop kicking and hitting me." His mumbled answer: "Mom, I am sorry. I was having this dream where I had to get this crazy, laughing elephant back to the circus. I guess you were the elephant." He laughed. I laughed and I marked ribs off his menu possibilities in the future.


The next morning we had some time to kill before we had to be back at the pool. After the complimentary breakfast, we decided to hang out in the room. Two other teammates came with us and I ended up making two forts for them to play in. One was in the closet with a blanket over the desk chair. The other was made between the bed and the wall, using the sofa cushions and the coffee table. It kept those 4 kids busy, along with their DSi's, for several hours.

As far as the actual swimming that occurred, the kids dropped times in all their events except one each. We left the meet all on a chlorine and adrenaline high. Ethan is gaining confidence and a self-awareness of what he is doing right and wrong with his strokes. Sadie is determined to swim the 100 fly at the next meet which no 8 year old attempted at this meet. They are really pumped about the next meet in mid-January in Rock Hill, SC.

Swimming continues to be a great decision for our family. It is growing our kids mentally and physically and gives them a completely different atmosphere than school and home. For that, I am willing to hit the road.

Somebody's Knockin' at Our Front Door

This post is not an original idea of my own, rather a blog-lift or blogarism from another site I visit. However, the topic was so totally applicable to my own family, that I knew it must be written from the Dumoulin point of view.

The sound of our doorbell or a knock at our door is a signal to our kids to begin acting like they are wild, rabid animals who have been caged for the last 24 hours. I am not exaggerating. It is like they have lost all sense of decency, control, social graces, and/or common courtesy. Like the demon possessed, their eyes grow wide as inappropriate words and topics burst forth from their mouths.

It doesn't matter whether the person at the door is the mailman, our next door neighbor or even their own grandmother. It is as consistent as Pavlov's rat! Ding-dong! Let the insanity begin.

In general, this is what I can be assured will happen at some point during a "visit":

One of my children will appear with either a lack of clothing (no shirt or no pants, years ago even completely naked) OR will don some sort of costume that is either too small (read too revealing) or improperly worn.

One of my children will talk about the potty or a personal grooming habit. Poop, pee, toot, fart (though a banned word in our house), naked (see above), potty, nose, pick, stinky, privates - pick a word. It will be used.

One of my children will do something so outlandish that you will stand there stunned like a deer in headlights not knowing which way to run. For example, Sadie was four when she decided to open up a window and attempt to crawl out of it while a babysitter was present. Thankfully, it was open to a deck just a couple of feet below. But seriously? What?

One of my children will start chasing the dog giving the impression that we frequently host dog races at our house. Take your bets, people! Around and around they go; the dog begins to bark uncontrollably and quite loudly. No conversation can be had. Chaos ensues.

One of my children will decide to subject our visitor to a stand-up comedy routine filled with self-penned jokes. Most don't make any sense, but do send the "comedian" into fits of laughter. Occasionally, a "show" will be performed in the living room, admittance by ticket only. Usually, it is requested that the visitor purchase this ticket (a hastily cut piece of paper) with real money!

One of my children will insist on giving our visitor on a "home tour." Naturally, if the visitor is an unexpected guest, I have not prepared our domicile accordingly. Therefore, the visitor is subjected to viewing bathrooms with personal effects strewn about, the stench of a toilet left unflushed, heaps of laundry on the kitchen table and an occasional pull-up not properly disposed and left on the floor where it was discarded.

Specifically, Ethan will suddenly become "The Great Mumbler." When he is speaking to an adult, I must jump into my role as "translator" because no one can understand the nine-year old gibberish he speaks under his breath. I stand there like a parrot, repeating what he has just said so that our visitor can understand him. And, I think he believes that if he actually looks at an adult in the face while speaking, he will be instantly vaporized by their eyes.

Sadie can only be described as the "Tasmanian Devil." It is like a tornado spinning throughout the house, picking up object after object, destroying order, sliding down banisters, darting here and there.

Lily usually decides to become "The Great Clinger." She sees every visitor is an opportunity for Mommy to leave her, I think. She hides behind my legs, refusing to answer any question thrown at her. Never leaving my side.

After the children have sufficiently established our house as an insane asylum and my performance as a mother a complete and utter failure, it is time for the visitor to leave. The door closes and the children, sweetly and innocently, act as if nothing at all had just happened. The Twilight Zone left as quickly as it came and I am left completely dumbfounded.

Thoughts on a rather hectic day:


I went to Big Lots to find some ribbon. There was a lady collecting money for the Salvation Army. She was also entertaining everyone entering or exiting the store with her unusual way of singing. Confession time - I usually get irritated when people sing out loud, randomly, when the song is not playing in the background, even when they are good singers. It is just a personal quirk. This lady, despite doing her best to bring Christmas cheer, was belting out Christmas songs and sounding like a cross between a cat being strangled and a chicken being punched. As I stood in the check-out line, the doors to the store would open and close producing another titillating and screeching snippet of her talents for our listening pleasure. Pretty dreadful and way over sung. I wasn't quite sure if depositing some change in her bucket would be encouraging or quiet her down. Nevertheless, I offered up some coins and went on my way. It was met with a, "Now, YOU have a blessed day, Ma'am!" Amen!


I wonder why I think I can ever make a quick trip to WalMart at any time during the year, but it seems particularly ludicrous during the high-shopping Christmas season. I even tried my hand at rewriting my shopping list to coincide with the flow of the store (back to front) with the random soup ladle and deodorant listed to the side. I race through the aisles, trying to get a cart load of groceries and a prescription in just under and hour. Completely out of breath, I threw my bags in my car and raced to Chik-fil-a to pick-up food for my kids' lunch that morning. This entire situation would not have occurred had I been able to get my grocery shopping done the day prior. But, I didn't. Therefore, there was absolutely nothing with which to fix their lunches having exhausted all bread, soup, spaghettio's and beanie weanies.

I discovered, that in a panic, I can make a large crock pot of ham and corn chowder, a large tin pan of baked spaghetti and another of chicken fajitas in less than an hour. However, on most nights it takes me longer just to fix one simple meal.

My children, no matter how much I plan and instruct, still have a difficult time changing clothes, swimming and collecting their own discarded and used clothing. We found Ethan's winter coat in the lost and found where it had been left the practice prior. We have lost and reclaimed t-shirts, goggles, etc. We have come home with a towel, t-shirt, swim gear that isn't even ours. I have tried every trick - labeling clothing and gear, having a separate hamper bag for the car, smaller bags, bigger bags, etc. Now, I just pray.

A Prettier Picture

Yesterday's post was created from actual incidents that had occurred within the previous 24 hours of it being authored. It doesn't paint a pretty picture of my children. In order to balance the negativity with some "all is not lost" fodder, I present today's post.

As a service project this Christmas, the kindergarten classes at school decided to bring in various toys, personal care items, gloves, hats, etc. for another elementary school. This other school has 370 students in grades K-3 who are, for the most part, well-below the poverty level. Each year, the teachers stock their staff room with these items and allow each child to pick out a few things for Christmas. My heart is especially soft for children who might go without during a season when no child should.

I had earmarked some funds to go to this cause. Last week, I was excited to find sweatshirts and long-sleeved t-shirts on sale at WalMart for less than $3.00. I also added in some gloves, hats and activity books. I was feeling pretty good about the purchases and marked it off my Christmas "to-do" list.

Over the weekend, the kids decided to check their personal money envelopes we use to hold birthday money, gift cards, etc. We also found an envelope containing the money they raised this summer at a yard sale. They had cleaned out their toys and with my help, had baked cookies and brownies. All in all, they managed to raise $35.25. Originally, the kids had wanted to use the money for personal gain. We had not had an opportunity to do so, therefore the envelope had remained in the drawer.

It was Sadie who first proposed the idea of using the money to purchase gifts for another child. Quickly, they all agreed. They also wanted to use additional money from their personal stash as well and so I allowed them to pick a certain amount to do so. We ventured to the Dollar Tree to make our selections. Sadie had already made her list of what she wanted to buy. I love that store because you can really stretch your money.

The kids didn't ask once to purchase something for themselves. Excitedly, they picked out toothbrushes, gloves, hats, puzzles, scarves, crayons, activity books, lip balm, books, etc. We stayed away from items that might only be used one time and then discarded. I also navigated them away from the plastic junk that might break just by opening the packaging. The kids were thrilled and my heart was warmed seeing them understand the true meaning of Christmas: Giving and sacrificing for others as Christ gave to us.

When we got home, Lily curled up next to me on my bed for a little snuggle. I told her she would need to take in the large bag of donations to class the next day. Then she told me, "Today, Mommy, I gave my Stitch animal." "What?" I asked. The reality began to sink in as I remembered seeing her bring down 4 of her stuffed animal downstairs that morning. I made her haul them back up because she didn't need to take them to school where I thought she just wanted to play with them. Evidently, she still snuck the Stitch one, the one she had just picked out as her special toy from Disney just a few weeks prior, into her bag. I didn't know that her intention was to donate it. She truly gave from her heart.

I need to remember that when I believe my children are completely self-absorbed beings who are only interested in satisfying their own self-interests, there is a bit of selflessness being nurtured in there. Now, I let out a much more contented...Sigh.

How Dare I?

I am such a mean, terrible mommy. I am positive I am the worst to have ever lived. For example:

How dare I pack my children's swim bags every Monday and Wednesday. What am I thinking putting a black bathing suit in a black swim bag causing my kids to search tireless for it in their bag.

How dare I not respond immediately and run upstairs when one of my children screams, "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMYYYYYY!" at their loudest volume.

How dare I make my children wear long-sleeves and pants when it is 40 degrees outside. I know t-shirts and shorts are more hip, possibly even more comfortable, but excuse me for worrying about frostbite.

How dare I have only one bottle of special swimmer's hair conditioner for my children to share. I know it must tax them greatly to have to walk the long distance between their bathrooms to exchange the one bottle. I am so sorry for this.

How dare I force my children to complete their school work by themselves, before the deadline while attempting to answer every single question on the page. The horror of horror must be when they are asked to remember to put their name on their paper. I mean, in life, I know that sometimes you don't have make an effort to fully complete your tasks, so it is probably a lesson they don't need to learn. It is just important to me.

How dare I not make every dollop of food and drink I give my kids perfectly even. I know I should carefully measure out each serving and I am sorry that I am so slack in this endeavor.

How dare I finish off the cookies last night that I made over the weekend. I know the kids did not offer to help make them while they were watching "Tom & Jerry" on the television in the kitchen. However, they should be entitled to all the cookies they want, including the last ones which should be measured and divided evenly for them.

How dare I forget to order lunch for them each month. I know that we could eat at a restaurant more cheaply than what it costs them to eat their catered school lunches, but it really shouldn't matter. I know it must be embarrassing for them to be the only ones taking their lunch every day.

How dare I make them complete household chores like putting clothes away, emptying the dishwasher and cleaning their rooms. It is the equivalent to slave labor because I don't pay them for their work, rather I view it as their contributions to helping run our household.

How dare I make a homecooked meal rather than pick-up something on the way home from swimming two days a week. I know my efforts to teach them about nutrition is probably outdated.

How dare I ask that my children brush their teeth not once, but twice a day. Good, healthy teeth are not in fashion right now. And, bad breath is a sure way to win friends. Why would I want them to know this, right?

How dare I send my children to school when they are tired or have a headache or just don't feel like going. I should probably just break the law and allow this truancy, but being compliant is just my nature.

Maybe they will forgive me one day... Sigh.