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Dinner Theater - Bierer Style

This week I went to my first out-of-town conference. From Sunday to Wednesday the boys (big and little) were on their own. Well, not really on their own. It literally took an excel spreadsheet, google maps, a binder of contact names and directions, days of laundry, organization, and a team of 9 (most unpaid volunteers and few paid care givers) to manage a mom-free household for four days. This alone is a blog entry. But, this entry is a little glimpse into a night out with the Bierer Boys.

On more than one occasion, I have looked up from my parental duties to see a stranger watching me and the boys. Usually this person is a mom or grandma, occasionally a couple with grown children or an expectant mother. I almost always react the same way. I smile slightly, nod, and think to myself, "I'm trying. I'm doing the best I can."

Last night I was offered a slightly different perspective into how my family looks to others.

Last night we ventured out for pizza. I had worked a ten hour day following a four days away from home. Scott had been off work. The boys were being very well behaved. We ordered our drinks and food and spent the next few minutes coloring our place mats. Our drinks arrived. Juice boxes were opened and straws inserted. Scott and I attempted adult conversation between reminders to the boys to keep their bottoms on their chairs, talk quietly, save their drinks, and assisting them with the activities on their place mats.

Life moves pretty fast for me, but every once in awhile I have moment where I find myself content enough to recognize the moment. I remember thinking, "The boys are growing up. Look at my family. Enjoying dinner time together - in public. No one is paying any attention to us. This is nice."

No sooner had the thoughts moved on in my mind, when Scott reached over to point out a word in Jack's word search and simultaneously knock his entire Pepsi onto the table and into my lap. Just as quickly Jack stood up in his chair and announced loudly, "Oh, my goodness." Nate and Danny proceeded to shriek and the atmosphere quickly morphed into a more typical Bierer family dining experience.

A woman seated behind us chuckled and joked, "Now that's dinner theater."

This time my typical self talked wasn't "I'm trying. I'm doing my best."

It was, "Yes, dinner theater we maybe, but at least it's five star."

A Day Like a Cock Roach

Today, I had one of those days. After picking Nate up from school, he nicely asked how my day was going. My head spun with details of a very hectic day, I looked at my four year old and simply answered, "Nate, is was just a day."

Then my four year old proceeded to inquire if my day had been a "insect day."

Not having a clue what an insect day was, I asked.

And here is what my beautiful son offered:

"Mom, you know, like a cock roach day. A day when you're stuck on your back, squirming, and just hoping no one steps on you."

So, yes I suppose today was just a day --- a cock roach type of day.

Almost Bedtime

Well, we are minutes from our bedtime routine.

Often, these last few minutes of the boys' day are the most peaceful. It is during these last minutes that there is less fighting, few moments of stress, more cooperation, and lots of brotherly love.

I love these rare moments when the chaos of our life settles, and the boys truly act as a family. Age, maturity, and a host of other issues seem to disappear. The Herby the Love Bug theme is playing. They are ALL working on some sort of room rearrangement. Lately, they love moving things around in their rooms. Favorite toys and special gifts are collected and arranged close to the bed or other special places. On my part it takes a considerable amount of effort not to return the room to order. I hear Jack ask if a brother is okay. I hear Danny offer a thank you to a brother. Nathan is quiet - a true blessing. For him the current moment, doesn't require him to scream in order to be heard.

Now, bedtime itself is not so fun. And I know this moment of peace is in part an effort to lay low, buy a few more minutes of playtime, postpone jammies and sleep . . . but never the less it is peace and they are brothers. Brothers — sharing the moment, enjoying each other company, and being a family.

Choose your words wisely

Jack [pointing to his bottom]: Please, put lotion on my thorax. This winter weather is making it scaly.
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Attempting to make a point about fidgeting during bedtime prayers . . .
Me: God, does lots of nice things for us. We shouldn't jiggle around like a nut during prayers.
Jack: Well, mom, nuts don't move. Unless, of course they are carried off by a chipmunk.
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I'm not sure if this counts as mischief or miracles.

Yes, it is an egg

I have just got done arguing with a 2 and a half year old. A great big, loud, animated argument about an egg.

Tonight as I made dinner, I drew an audience. Within minutes of pulling a few things from the fridge, chairs were pushed up to the counter, little hands reached for ingredients, and each boy took turns pleading for things he could do to help. Activities in the kitchen have always peaked the boys' interest, and for the most part, I've encouraged this . . . of course, encouraging can definitely slow the process and can on occasion result in more than I bargained for. . .

This evening's menu: Turkey Meatloaf. Nothing fancy, but at least the kids and I would not be snacking our way through dinner, like we've done the last several nights.

First, discussion about onion. Jack was beside himself that an onion HAD to be part of this evening's dinner. After several spins in the food processor . . . the onion, would be undetectable. Next, the painful process of smashing crackers. Each took their turn rolling the crackers (safely in a zip lock) into tiny pieces — that according to Jack could if needed pass as sand. Hope that doesn't happen outside of a recipe, ovey the mess.

By this time, Jack and Nathan's interest began to wane, and they scurried off to other activities, leaving me and Danny to finish the task. I pulled two eggs from the carton and cracked the first into the bowl (already containing lots of other ingredients). Danny took one look and screamed at me. Egggggggg!

Okay, okay I reassured him. You can crack the next one. I just figured he wanted a piece of the action too. I handed the egg to him, and he placed it back in the container and proceeded to scold me, throwing all sort of half words and toddler-speak at me. No eggggggg! He began pointed at the bowl and his fury grew. No egggggg!

For cry'n out loud, eggs go in meatloaf, I explained. No luck.

Then Nathan came to the rescue. He climbed up the chair. Looked in the bowl. Looked at the screaming Danny and said: Yes, it is an egg. No it is not breakfast. It's dinner. Yes, it is an egg in dinner.

Danny stopped crying. Both boys climbed down from their chairs and went off to watch TV.

I cracked the last egg and was thankful. Nate, the toddler interpreter, was on call.

Future Living Arrangements

Jack: Mom, when I am your age, I am going to live right next door to you and Dad.
Me: Fine. As long as your wife doesn't care.
Jack: Dad says not to marry a fussy woman. So, we shouldn't have any problems.