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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.

Theology of a 3 Year Old

In the van after church on Sunday.
Nate: "If Jesus died on the cross, why didn't someone call an ambulance?"

An Explanation for Everything

Trying to instill table manners and family conversation at the dinner table, Scott and I were asking the boys questions about their day and sharing aspects of our day with them last night at supper.

After Scott finished telling the boys about how he chased and arrested a man for stealing a car, Jack had this observation:

Jack: “Dad, maybe the man’s own car ran out of gas and he didn’t use his manners and took the woman’s car and forgot to tell her?”

Sort of exemplifies innocent until proven guilty. If only life was that simple.

The Weapons Ban

We are currently in the throes of a weapons ban at our home. I never dreamed withholding toys shooters could invoke such drama from small boys. But it has.

A few days ago, we ventured out to find a costume for Danny and a "real" bat costume that met Jack's expectations. As we browsed the store, I watch the boys swing between excited glee and fright. The big highlight of our outing was the discovery of a complete arsenal of pretend weapons — ultimately, the selection of toy guns completely fascinated all four of the boys (yes, that includes dad).

Now, for five years I have managed not buy one single toy gun for any of the boys. We do have a few water guns, a blow up machine gun or two, and a pretend assault riffle from friends and family, so we are not weaponless to say the least. I really have no problem with toy guns and gun gift giving. I completely understand that, for what it's worth, this toy is part of boyhood and most likely childhood in general. I remember playing "guns" with my sisters and have found that the boys can morph lots of everyday objects into weapons whenever imagination dictate.

So as our visit to the store came to an end, I found myself face to face with all four boys. The three younger boys each presenting a toy gun for purchase and the older male, nodding in agreement and saying, " I told them it was okay."

We left with one UPS costume, an assault riffle and two handguns with ammo. That was two days ago. The cache is safely hidden in the house. As the head negotiator of my household, I have made it very clear that I will hold the guns hostage until all three little men can go to bed and stay in bed without hassle.

I never would have dreamed that I would be using this tactic to motivate my sons. The question now, is how long with this arms agreement last. Any bets?

Gifts for the Queen (of Bedtime)

Bedtime has always been a bit of challenge in our household – okay, for Jack. Jack is a good sleeper, just not so good at going to bed. He will sleep 10-12 hours easily, but since he was a tiny baby falling asleep has been his least favorite activity. In fact, going to bed is the worse punishment imaginable for Jack.

Lately, he has gotten very creative in his approach to postponing going to bed. And, to frustrate his parents even more, he now has a sleep dodging side kick – Nate.

So, to give you an idea of what we’re up against, I, the Queen of Bedtime, will tell you the tale of the Knights of Owlwood Drive.

First, I must preface this tale with a parenting disclaimer. My little guys are very busy. We are not a coach potato family and according to our pediatricians and countless parenting sources, all three of the boys should be exhausted and ready for sleep by 8 p.m.

Each night the Knights start out with a traditional approach to prolonging their day. For decades, maybe even centuries, children have asked for water, snacks, and made extra trips to the bathroom. So, after shuffling through “small” cups of water, a reminder that they had a snack already and final tinkle for the day, the boys and I knelt down for prayers. At this time Jack, remembers every person in his life by name, he thanks God for the ice cream party at school, for his barn and a myriad of other memories from the day. He insists on extra prayer time for the sick – namely, friend and neighbor Maddie who was home from school sick that day. As a mother, it’s really hard to argue with or rush prayers, so we pray as long as things are sensible.

One duck, one bunny, two blankies, and all three boys were in now in bed. The bathroom light was on as promised, and I finally settled into bed with a really great book, but the Knights were on a crusade.

First Jack politely inquired if I need a back rub. Nice try. Good night Jack. Back to bed. Off he storms.

Next he is convinced he has not eaten in “fifty years.” -- this a very long time for a five year old. Since, I am certain he is not in danger of malnutrition he is ushered back to bed.

Within minutes Jack and Nate are beside my bed (with their bathrobes on no less) each holding a framed picture of themselves as infants.

“Here mom, these are for you,” they impishly chime.

“How sweet. Thank you. Now, off to bed,” I kindly command, from behind my book.

And so, for several minutes, they each took turns presenting me with a variety of gifts or bribes depending on how you look at it. Since they are only 5 and 3 and were not about to venture into the darken rooms of the house, my gifts were limited to whatever they could find in their room or the bathroom. I was given a tooth brush (not my own), a towel, a t-ball trophy, an engraved baby cup, some baby lotion, a few stuffed animals, comb, and several other items I can’t recall. When I finally put an end to the gift giving, I had accumulated a considerable collection of items at the foot of my bed.

And so the Knights won. I put down the book. Patted the bed and turned out the light as Sir Nathan and Sir Jackson climbed into bed to cuddle. With in minutes they were sound asleep. Apparently, being crusaders is extremely tiring.

Let's Catch Up

Three months in one post . . . here goes.

We did not win the home improvement contest. We came in 11 th. Olivia’s Potty Project won. No one was greatly concerned with our defeat. However, I think the front landscaping and all updates and renovations to the front of our house won’t be finished this year. (Okay, I know this for a fact. It’s just really hard to accept).

However, we did undertake some big home improvement projects indoors. Scott did a fabulous job installing hard wood in two rooms. We painted the entire downstairs including the kitchen cabinets, replaced all base boards, had new bathroom and kitchen floors installed, and by the grace of God managed to do all this without losing our minds or incurring any major injuries.

Aunt Roberta and Uncle Ryan will be welcoming a baby boy in December. Aunt Beth and Uncle Pete will be adding a baby girl to their family in January.

Nathan has a new friend named Jo Jo. Jo Jo is a fireman. He has no brothers. He has an orange cat for a pet. He rides a school bus, plays basketball, likes to run to first base, and has, on occasion, been sent home for hitting. Last night at the park, Nate was pretty certain he saw Jo Jo, but it turned out it was just a boy in an orange shirt.

Nate started preschool. He loves it. He was the only 3 year old who cried when his mother picked him up after the first day. He was devastated that the bus was not taking him home. His teacher reports that he is sweet, polite and an excellent listener.

Jack started kindergarten. He loves it. His entire attitude about school has changed. Everyday he has something to share. He likes his teacher and especially loves to ride the bus home. He has decided that he wants to be a tractor man when he gets older. He is a complete ball of energy when he gets homes both physically and verbally. He says his teacher thinks his class is smarter than a fifth grader and this makes Jack very happy. He looks adorable in his school uniform.

Danny continues to master his language skills. His favorite phrases and words, truly depict his third child status and include:

“I mad at you.”

“Right here.” In response, to where’s Danny?

“I pee pee potty.”

“Mommy/Daddy where are you?”

“No mine.”

“Jack bus.”

He participates in every activity or adventure his brothers include him in. He can push Jack around in the wagon, climb the playground equipment, color/draw, and help out mom and dad. He has all his teeth, except for his four eye teeth which he has been working on all summer. He absolutely loves VW beetles and goes crazy when he sees a love bug of any color.

We survived hurricane Ike. We lost power for about 36 hours and had two trees topple. The boys were relatively unfazed by the event.

Whew. Those are the highlights. Thanks for hanging in there.

I Blinked and It Was Gone

Summer is gone. Poof. One day it was July and now here we are in September.

I apologize for the lack of blog materials. It’s not that their hasn't been anything to share. On the contrary, I've been too busy preparing for life, adjusting to life, and managing life, to actually find the lap top and document life. Kinda, defeats the purpose of a blog. So, I promise to at least try and update the blog more regularly.

About this Contest [boys vs girls]

We are in tenth place and only 14 or so votes are keeping us there.

We are very proud of all 262 votes that we have. That's a lot of votes. However, the competitor in me just can't figure out how some entries have 800+ votes. That is incredible. That is knowing a lot of people. That is some serious voting.

Let's face it, at least at this point, this is somewhat of popularity contest. It would be a bit different if you could only vote once. But, obviously some entrants have an army of loyal votes who vote daily.

I still check the AurGroup site multiple times a day, hoping that our email plea had somehow reached a large group of Bierer loyalists and our tally had jumped by hundreds of votes. No such luck.

Now, as much as I hesitate to share the following, I also feel the need to at the very least address the following . . .
Why are little girls always deemed cuter and more worthy of attention (ie votes)?

My boys are adorable. They may not smile cutely as they use intelligent and creative verbal skills to describe our entry. Okay, I had to ask a few questions to keep Jack focused on why we were making the video. Fact is, there's lots of great stuff in the 13 minutes of footage we took. For example, in the entry Jack is dancing. Original footage includes at 6 original dance moves including the backhoe, digger, saw, and dump truck. [I promise to post them soon.] At one point Jack tries to include a bike path as part of our home improvement project. There is at least a full minute of Danny refusing to share the toy backhoe. Numerous minutes include the boys bowing, giving each other knuckle bumps, and high fives.

We tried. In retrospect, we should have given each a hard hat, hammers and other cool tools and set them lose on the falling wall. Demolition would have gotten more votes. Dirty, ready to destroy anything little boys, would have surely played to the hearts of all men. . . create little versions of Tim the Tool Man Taylor. . . add some grunting and cave man like roars. Would that have worked any better?

Reality is . . . my alliance is now with the boys. I am out numbered, seriously out numbered. Do I have any choice?

Thank goodness I didn't try to choreographer dance moves or include a theme song in the entry.

More is Merrier

Right now there are 5 boys playing at our house.

This is the most peace we've had here in over a week.

I hear time and time again, that the boys will be such great playmates when they get older. How much older? No one seems to have any idea. Fact is the boys, at ages 5,3, and 2, can often be far from each other in interest, skill, social development and physical ability. And, as siblings they do have their moments of say, disharmony?!

So, the neighbor boys are back from vacation. Paul and Declan have renewed play and camaraderie here at the Bierer house. We should all sleep good tonight. Thank goodness, the boys are back in town.

He Plum Killed It

This is a perfect example of why this blog title includes the word Messes.

7 p.m. Bedtime was just around the corner. We had cleaned up the toy room and I had corralled all 3 little dudes upstairs. As they played, I was busy putting away laundry and cleaning the bathroom.

At the top of his lungs, Nate screams: “I killed it. I killed it.”

I walked out of my bedroom to find the upstairs hall carpet covered in dark red spots. The carpet looked like a crime scene.

Upon investigating, I discovered that Jack had found a red plum hidden in his room. [Food is not allowed in the bedroom. That is a house rule.] Apparently, this red plum had turned soft and moldy and he placed it in the hall and called Nate to come look at it. Nate assuming the fruit was some sort of creature. Stepped on it repeatedly and then walked off with “dead” plum on his shoe.

Now, I wish I had taken a picture of the mess, but I was so overwhelmed with the stain potential that cold water, rags, stain remover, and the steam cleaner were the only things on my mind.

Hence, the inclusion of the word Messes.

I Can Hardly Believe It.

The boys are cleaning their room. Actually, organizing their room is probably a more accurate description of this afternoon's activity. They are working together and "straightening" their dresser drawers.

Jack came up with this "good idea" after helping me put away clean clothes and discovering his drawer space was limited.

"I have too many clothes." he complained. "These folded things don't fit."

Now, I work hard at clean, folded clothes, but since the boys began dressing themselves, I turn a blind eye on the state of drawers in this house.

My response was simple. "Jack, those are your clothes and your drawers. Everything fits. You just have to keep things in better order." Off I went to other tasks.

It wasn't long and my mom instinct kicked in. . . I hadn't heard the boys. . . there was no fussing or screaming. I found them in their room busily folding and piling clothes as orderly as a 5, 3, and 2 year old can manage.

The part of this story that makes me the happiest is that my boys [who by their mere gender may not be motivated to put the time and energy into this matter] were wholeheartedly proud of themselves. I did offer my praise and gratitude, but ultimately they saw the satisfaction is taking care of and responsibility for their clothes . . . now that's parenting progress . . . thank the dear Lord, I needed a little parental confidence building.

*** DISCLAIMER: I am not responsible for sloppy husbands. As the mother, I cannot under any circumstance guarantee that drawer and closet organization skills will continue to be an attribute of the Bierer Boys.

Meeting Fr. Jan

This evening my CRHP sisters (Christ Renews His Parish) are hosting a picnic to get to know our new pastor Fr. Jan. I am looking to meeting Fr. Jan and catching up with ladies I've grown to love so much.

[Those of you out of town . . . will be missed.]

As I prepared our contributions for the pot luck, Jack wanted to know about the party.

Was it birthday party? [The only REAL party the boys have experienced.]

How would he have to dress? [Lately, wearing regular or play clothes ranked high on his list of priorities. A considerable amount of persuasion is necessary for clothing perceived as dress up or look nice clothes.]

Who was going to be there? [He was very pleased with the families who be there, almost as if they had been personally selected for him alone.]

What could he bring? [Movie Cars, a metal detector, a spy watch, and on and on]

When would we go? [Apparently, 4 pm is "60 hours" from now and an impossible amount of time to wait.]

And then, when I was too the point of sighing and shooing him outside to play. He asked, "Will Fr. Tom and Fr. Jamie be there?"

I was surprised. I hadn't expected this question from him. In fact, up until this moment I had never heard him make reference to Fr. Tom and Fr. Jamie. So I explained that Fr. Jan was now our new pastor and Fr. Jamie and Fr. Tom were now helping another church learn about God.

Jack's response. "Okay, Good. God knows what He's doing." [very appropriate "CRHP-like" response from a 5 year old]

God knows EXACTLY was HE is doing...more later.

Contest Day Two

Thanks to everyone who's been voting. Tonight at last check we have 32 votes and are in 5th place. The leader has 77. Let's keep up the voting people!

We have a barn?

Off and on, over the last few weeks the boys have made mention of their barn. Mingled into conversation and play are references to this barn.

"I'm going out to the barn."

"My cat is in the barn."

"I think it's in the barn."

Well, we don't have a barn (or a cat for that matter). Scott and I were aware that some part of the backyard had been "nicknamed" the barn. Not a big deal. In fact, as the mom, I was proud of the barn. The boys were using their imaginations. This was wonderful. They were playing nicely together, including each other, and having fun.

Then . . . I visited the barn. Well, I can definitely see how the wood fence at the corner of our yard looks like a barn. The boys had hung their tot size yard tools on the fence and had parked their bikes, wagons, and tractor up against the fence. I was given a great tour of the barn. They showed me were they had hauled sand from the sandbox to fill in holes in the grass and dirt. Under Jack's direction, they were laying hard wood floors in the barn. Scraps of real hard wood confiscated from our recent floor upgrade, were neatly laid at one end of "the barn." Quite the fancy barn.

Yes, this barn was very fancy. This barn even had a bathroom. Yes, my tour concluded with Jack proudly pointing out a metal dog dish tucked behind the landscaping.

Now, I was hoping beyond hope that they had not been peeing in that bowl. I took a deep breathe and calmly asked, "How does this bathroom work?"

I could see the delight in Jack's face. He was very proud of this barn feature.

"Mom, we pee here (pointing to the dish). The potty even flushes. We just dump it out and make our best flushing sound."

Since my tour, we have revisited "outside potty rules" with the boys. I am pretty sure they understand that a bathroom in a barn is great idea, and someday when they have real barns of their own they can add this feature. The bathroom in their barn is now without a potty.

Soon, Ty Pennington may have to fear for his job.