How Do I Use Thee, Mask?

How do I use thee? Let me count the ways.

I use thee to the depth and breadth and height

My face can reach, when breathing out of sight 

When I cannot maintain a six-foot space. 

I use thee to the level of every day's

Most germy need, by sun and moonlit night.

I use thee freely, as men strive to fight; 

I use thee purely, as eyeglasses haze. 

I use thee with the passion put to use 

In my relief, and with my doctor's faith. 

I use thee with a zeal I seemed to lose 

With my last fears. I use thee with the breath, 

Coughs, sneezes, of all my life; and, if law choose, 

I shall use thee even after death.

Parody of Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet "How do I love thee?"

My First Big Utah Earthquake

I have lived in Utah for most of my life and only felt tiny tremors that I usually associate with dynamite blasts. There is a military testing site nearby that can sometimes cause shaking in the house.

When I lived in Blanding, Utah as a preteen to young adult, I never noticed any earth tremors. I heard that there was an earthquake in 1905 from my Young Women’s leader. Her home had structural damage dating from then. It was cool to see a little bit of history.

I have lived in North Utah County for the last 9 years. I have felt tiny tremors that I thought might be earthquakes. But I never really knew until other people mentioned on Facebook that they were earthquakes. It really didn’t affect many at such low levels. A picture might fall.

Today felt different. It was a bigger earthquake than I ever felt before. I noted the time of 7:10 am after it ended. The earthquake took place at 7:09. I fell back asleep since I knew it probably wouldn’t be a big deal. None of the other tremors had been. I looked at the news when I woke up later.

It was a 5.7 earthquake four miles away from Magna, Utah. That’s the biggest earthquake Utah has had since 1992. I contacted my brother and parents who live closer to Magna in Salt Lake Valley. I asked if they were okay. My brother said they were okay. I was relieved. I doubted much would happen, but I didn’t know. My brother and parents used to live in Magna, Utah. I felt very glad that they moved away a few years ago.

Unfortunately, my husband’s relatives live closer. They had some minor damage, but still scary. I contacted his aunt to see if there was anything they needed. Right as we were texting, I felt an aftershock around 1:10. She said that she had been feeling aftershocks throughout the day.

I talked with my husband where he was during the morning earthquake. Apparently, he was on the bathroom throne. He felt very exposed and frightened. Being on the toilet, stuck with your pants down, would be a terrible place if the building fell.

On Facebook, I saw various neighbors, friends, and relatives reactions. Anyone from California shared their wisdom of surviving earthquakes. They gave useful advice while the rest of us are thinking of standing in doorways.

I feel like the earth is angry today. It is an odd feeling. I have never been in a natural disaster, so it feels weird. I wonder if Mother Earth has a message for us.

My family and I read from the Bible and the Book of Mormon. Natural disasters are mentioned as a sign of the times. Albeit, natural disasters have always happened. But this put in my mind prophets warning the people. In the Bible and the Book of Mormon, the narrators summarize how the natural disasters were a result of people’s sins. It made me think: Is this due to a sin? Are we sinning in Utah?

I thought of a possible warning:

Thus saith the Lord: Henceforth, cease from thy selfishness. Share with thy neighbor like unto thyself. In times of trouble, let everyone have their toilet paper.

My Husband and I Default to Masculine Nouns and Pronouns

While serving a Latter-day Saint mission in Uruguay, my husband chose a name for his first daughter before he met me. It was the Spanish feminine subject pronoun ella with the Uruguayan pronunciation of double l — aysha. Meanwhile, I roomed with his sister south of Brigham Young University campus.

After I came home early from my mission due to bipolar, my former roommate arranged for her brother and I to have a blind date. My husband and I married four months later. He shared his desire to name a girl Ella. The name sounded fine to me. I said let’s adopt a Chinese girl one day because I had taught English in China. Anything seemed possible.

Fifteen months after our marriage, we found out we were having a boy. We were stumped what to name him. More like what name to agree on. I had the name Edmund in mind from The Chronicles of Narnia, but my husband nixed that name. He had an annoying college classmate by the name Edmund, so naturally we couldn’t name our firstborn that. We asked other people for name ideas as weeks passed by. My maternal grandma mentioned two names that she liked. My husband and I didn’t dislike one name she suggested, which we both liked after awhile. So that’s what we named our son.

On our second pregnancy, we hoped for a girl still. We still had a name picked out. Perfect pronoun Ella. We felt some disappointment when we discovered the second was another boy. But there would be a third time to try.

Only now we had to choose another boy name. I liked the name Liam, but I wasn’t sure how different it was. I don’t remember my husband’s feelings about the name. We went for the easy naming strategy of family names. We shared a male family name on both sides of the family. Thus, we named our second-born after his two grandpas.

Officially, my husband and my default nouns and pronouns changed to “Boys!”, sons, he, and him. It wasn’t children or kids or they or them.

The third time is the charm.

That’s what the saying says. That’s what my husband hoped. That’s what I hoped, but I would be okay either way. My psychiatrist said that I should expect a boy and be surprised if it was a girl.

When the radiologist performed the ultrasound on our third child, she acted strangely. She announced it was a boy, but then she exited the room to consult with the doctor. My husband and I silently wept. Our oldest son was sad too. No girl. But I recovered quickly. I could tell something else was wrong when the doctor returned, which wasn’t procedure. The doctor showed us the baby’s left club foot and explained how treatable it was.

My husband and I cried more over the lost opportunity of a daughter than our son’s club foot. That was treatable, almost reversible. His club foot has required casting, minor surgeries, and orthotic shoes. But we wouldn’t trade our third for a daughter. He fits in perfectly.

At this point, my husband let me choose the name because he was out of ideas. I chose a friend’s brother’s name who was kind, smiled big, and teased. Somehow that seemed destined to be my son’s name. He smiles big and teases his brothers.

At a restaurant several years ago, my husband yelled “Boys! Boys! Boys!” to round them all up. Many looked at him strangely. My husband realized that they thought he could be calling any boys from any family. But our boys know our voices. They sometimes respond to our calls — selective hearing (or fluid in their ears).

Friends, relatives, and strangers asked if my husband and I would try a fourth time for a girl. I wondered if the fourth time could be the charm. It had been for my family’s history. My paternal grandma had my aunt after three boys and my sister had my first niece after my first three nephews.

On my fourth pregnancy ultrasound, I recognized the anatomy of a boy before the radiologist announced what the gender was. My husband felt some disappointment. I felt fine with another boy. It is what I was used to. My oldest two sons were disappointed.

I wanted to name our son after my uncle and use the nickname that sounds like a girl’s name. I fell in love with the name from a children’s book too. But my husband didn’t like it for the first name. So I mentally searched more family names. My great uncle’s real name sounded good — not his nickname. My husband approved that name with my other uncle’s name as the middle name.

After my son was born, receptionists said “she” at doctor’s offices when they called for my son. I cringed. I had chosen a boy name. I went to the library and a mother called for her child with my son’s same name— but a girl. No! This was a classic boy name for hundreds of years and suddenly it had been co-opted as a girl’s name. Then I realized that I knew of a girl in her teens named that. Had I subconsciously named my son a girl name? Well, an androgynous name.

“Boys!” became a louder noun as my husband and I yell over the chaos of four male children. Our boys occasionally bring home female friends. Usually, it’s more male friends. More boys. Boys. Boys. More noise. Noise. Noise.

I am surrounded by testosterone as my boys come closer to teenage-hood. I feel outnumbered. I am the only she/her among the he/hims. Other boy moms and I bond together in unity. We understand the chaos of boys, but the world of girls seems foreign. Some of us still yearn for a girl. Some of us have accepted our fate. We enjoy boys. All children have their challenges at different ages.

Yet a neighbor family recently had a girl after four boys. Our realtors tease us about having a fifth child to have a girl. They are an older couple who had four boys and their fifth child was a girl. The fifth time could be the charm. But then I see my former mission companion having her sixth boy and a fellow boy mom having a fifth boy.

It is all a game of chance.

If my husband and I ever roll again, we just have to bet on a boy.

I Can't Type

It has been ten days since I wrote this and my brain was dead writing it. And my brain is still tired now that it is 9 pm writing.

I sliced off the tip of my my left index finger last Friday while chopping spinach. I was in shock not knowing how much of my finger was missing. My finger bled profusely into the sink. I called my oldest over. I asked him to call my husband. He took me to the urgent care. I wanted to swear at the doctor as the doctor cauterized the wound with silver nitrate.

Now I can't type worth beans. It's a major handicap.

It has limited me quite a bit. I am not even sure I want to try to change the typos because of the effort it will take. It is taking 3 times the effort to type than usual. I have a huge wad of gauze and Coban on the end of my finger.

I never realized how useful my finger was until I couldn't use it. It is really annoying in the shower. So really, I should be counting my blessings. Haha!

This happened at the same time that my son has been in a cast after a club foot surgery and needed carrying everywhere. Really poor timing.

It has had a few benefits. I tell my husband he can change all the poopy diapers. I need to keep the  bandage and wound clean.

No Fireworks on my Birthday Please

Via Public Domain

I loved the Fourth of July as a child. After all, the entire nation celebrated my birthday. Most people remembered my birthday. I got to always watch fireworks and hang out with family and friends on my birthday.

But then reality hit as an adult. I worked on my birthday three years in a row before marrying. I didn't mind too much. I made money after all.

I had much different expectations for my birthday than my husband did after we married. I was used to spending time with my aunts, uncles and cousins or friends on Fourth of July. My husband wanted to celebrate with just us. I was very angry when he refused to go to my family's house for six hours on my birthday. Come to find out, he was waiting for Cold Stone to open with a custom birthday cake. I was still livid because the party my family had partially planned for me was over by the time my husband and I arrived.

My husband was being sweet, but not listening to my wishes. After a few years of marriage, I realized I hated surprises, and necklaces, rings, dresses, etc.

My birthday became harder each year with my grand expectations of wanting to do parades, fireworks, be with my family yet have rest. It was so much simpler as a child when my parents took care of the logistics of parking, packing and preparing the food, driving through traffic, paying money for everything. Once I was old enough in my small hometown, I could walk or bike to all the events myself.

Now I have four boys ranging from from tweens to toddler who have varying wants. I live in Utah Valley with crazy traffic on the Fourth of July. I have become a hermit on my birthday where I don't want to do anything at all. My husband finally has a day off of work. I can take a nap and a break from the kids. I might see my parents and a few relatives. There is no simple celebration. I don't even want to stay up late on my birthday. The fireworks keep my kids up. I wish that there was no Daylight Savings Time so the fireworks would begin at 8 pm. Then I could fall asleep, or read in peace. I am just a plain party pooper these days. It's pathetic.

For my birthday wish, stop the fireworks at 10 pm please. Haha!

Doubt the neighbors or the city will follow my wish. ;)

That Pee Smell

Via Public Domain Photos

When I lie on the couch to read, I want to relax, but that smell keeps coming to my nose: pee. It is somewhere in our house. I want to find the source, but the source is everywhere: the dirty diaper pail seven feet away, dirty laundry underneath the changing table, the toddler sitting next to me, the couch cushions, everywhere!

I remember going to friends' houses with babies and it would smell like pee. I swore that my house would never smell like that that. I knew that my house would stay clean. I kept my parent's home clean as a youngest child.

Now the pee smell never goes away as a mother of four boys. My toddler rips off his diapers multiple times a day. I find the diapers stuffed in random places. He pees and poops all over the house until I catch him. I wrangle a diaper on his bare butt. My husband taped his diaper on one night.

This doesn't include when the diaper overflows. The pee and poop leak on the couch and bed. Oh, it is just wonderful.

We potty-trained our third child last fall, but he still wears a pull-up for night time. He sometimes changes into underwear independently in the morning. Other times he doesn't. This is when the pull-up is leaking all over the couch in the morning. This is why I sniff pee on the couch when I read.

I thought once my boys were potty-trained the problems went away. Oh no, it doesn't. No one ever talks about bed-wetting. Enuresis. It's there. It keeps going. And you give your child the medication the doctor recommends...no it doesn't work. They just have a nasty reaction to it. Does your child reduce drinking before bedtime? Maybe for a few days. Then I am just too busy for the reminders anymore.

And then there is the advice from doctors and well-meaning people on potty-training and bed-wetting. One lady said she started poop training at six months old and potty-training at eighteen months old. She pressured me to potty train my oldest for a month. I had several people unnaturally pressure me to potty-train my oldest. I tried multiple times during eight moves in eighteen months and I only felt frustrated with my oldest. Outside pressure only made things worse for both of us.

Leave parents alone!

What can I expect from my children when I can't control my own bladder anymore? I rarely practiced all those Kegel exercises. When I sneeze from sun exposure, it comes it triples. My underwear is wet. And I still have occasional accidents when I have diarrhea. I just know how to clean it up myself.

So, I have become really good at cleaning pee in my house. I use baking soda laundry detergent, vinegar, and occasionally super washing soda and borax. My husband complained that his underwear smells like vinegar. That's because I use scent-free dryer sheets. My only goal is to have everything have a neutral smell in my home. I don't want to cover up the smell of pee with floral scents. I want it gone with pure and natural chemicals!

The Elusive Night's Sleep

Via Public Domain Pictures

My baby was supposed to be sleeping through the night consistently now. No, he does not. He still wakes in the early morning several times a week.

I have retired before 10:30 almost every night for 3 weeks, and I am still tired.

Whatever. Who needs sleep anyway?

Unfortunately, my Fitbit tells me how little sleep I get. Oh, look, 6 hours of sleep 3 nights in a row. I may lay in bed for 9 hours, but I spend 2-3 hours up with my baby or toddler or whatever. Hunger wakes me at 4 am. This morning, I was able to fall back asleep without eating for the first time in several weeks. My husband takes turns too with the baby and toddler. We are just doomed.

I am switching my mood stabilizer to a different one that is an appetite suppressant too. I don't believe it has affected my sleep. (It's the 2 foot army crawler affecting my sleep.) The new mood stabilizer helps racing thoughts, which I still experience on my current mood stabilizer. I won't go off my current mood stabilizer until I tolerate a high enough dose on the new one.

I adjust my sleep medicine to how tired I am the night before. Last night I took a higher dose, so that is why I am probably still tired today, but I am trying to make up for several missed hours earlier this week.

Do naps help? They keep me sane for an hour or three.

My baby and toddler never nap together or long enough together for the past month. What happened! By the time I wind down, my baby usually wakes.

I love when my toddler climbs in his baby brother's crib and shakes him awake. Such brotherly love.

I look forward to this weekend because I can sleep in!!!!!

Bored But Busy While Feeding

"Sheep Feeding Lambs" by Vera Kratochvil

With an infant, I get bored while bottle-feeding him for 2-3 hours a day. However, I am stuck in one position. My brain roams around in circles while one hand holds a bottle and the other holds a book or my phone. There's only so much smiling at my kid I can do.

The fourth boy is the slowest eater of all my boys.

I have found a few things I can do while bottle-feeding: anything my smart phone can do, reading, watching TV, talking, ineffectively commanding my troop of boys, and eating.

On my smart phone, I check email, text, thumb through Facebook and Twitter, read online articles, and play games. But I can't type long comments or blog posts or create memes easily on my phone. I am so limited!

I can't stop my toddler from pouring/spilling milk or tossing everything off tall furniture. It is playtime for the third when I feed the fourth. When I am free, I am not free. I chase the other three and do chores.

I really fall into trouble thumbing through Facebook and Twitter. My brain explodes with the cultural and political events of the day. Do I read that article? Do I respond to that person's comment?

Oh, the trouble I could stir!

I don't like offending others, and I don't like always agreeing either. I have friends and family who are polar opposites on the political spectrum. Besides, I don't want to look stupid. Quite the paradox.

My former counselor wondered at how many politically-minded Facebook friends and family I have. Yes, you all are! And then you have to take a Facebook/Twitter break too like me.

Thus, I may start an alternative facts Twitter or Facebook account where I only deal in politics and current events. Have a separate space for the controversial.

Then I think of the businesses or jobs I could start: a used clothing store, writing, teaching English online at ridiculously early hours, a kids' language exchange program, a homeless shelter, earn my Master's degree, ad infinitum.

I look forward to when my infant can feed himself. Then I will have my hands free--to catch the fourth as he crawls away.

For My Husband--the Blessings of Pregnancy

"Pregnancy" by Lisa Runnels

My husband begged me if there was anything I thought was positive about pregnancy. Well, let's see...I have a baby come out in 9 months. Isn't that the point?

He said I enjoyed feeling the baby move inside me with the other pregnancies. Yes, and that was about it.

So for my husband--I will write the positives of pregnancy.

Positive Pregnancy Experiences

1. I can get pregnant. I feel bad that other women struggle for years with infertility. I don't know what to say to them because the longest I've ever waited is 10 months to get pregnant. 
2. I can feel the baby move...and sit on my bladder.
3. I have increased saliva production that helps my teeth not rot as fast from stomach acid and the baby absorbing the nutrients from my teeth. The drool just pools on my pillow.
4. I have a heightened sniffer. I can tell my toddler's diaper is filthy from a room away. Then I ask my husband to change it. He never complains about changing them. I can smell my human body.
5. My family jumps out of my way when I start gagging. I've never seen my oldest move so fast. Maybe that's what I should do when my boys refuse to get off the computer.
6. I know all the intricacies of the toilet bowl and the right trajectory to avoid spills.
7. I get in my sit-ups when I vomit regularly throughout all my pregnancies. I lost 16 pounds with my first (and gained it back). I haven't gained weight so far this pregnancy.

So I would say the actual positive experiences happen after the baby is born. I can bend again. I can eat a normal amount. I'm full for longer than 30 minutes. I can stand the smell of my family's bodies again. I can run. I can breathe deeper. I have energy again even if I am sleep deprived.

Then I enjoy the baby and pray for the next year to go slow but to go real fast. I like my sleep. I like their independence.

The Challenges of Going to Disneyland

"Roller Coaster at the Park" by Alex Grichenko

My husband's work sent a group of employees who were "finishers" to Disneyland with a guest. They pick someone from each work team and his work team has only 8 people. Everyone takes turns on his small development team. If his work hadn't paid for everything, we wouldn't have gone anywhere.

My husband and I debated whether he should take our oldest son or if I should go. We decided I would go, so we could have an 10th anniversary trip six months after the event.

Finding Childcare

My mother-in-law flew out to take care of our boys, but she wasn't coming until 15 hours after we left. Who could I find to watch my boys for 15 hours?

It took several weeks talking with friends and family to finalize that 15 hours of care. I wanted someone who I trusted absolutely (and could drive) because my husband and I would be too far away to take care of any problems. We found two people, but they had to switch the boys from one house to another. The switch worried me because of several factors.

In the meantime, I chewed my nails to the quick and pulled on hangnails. (I had an infection develop from it.) Just thinking of this, I feel stress again.

Well, after we left everything went mostly fine. The switch went off without a hitch. Once Grandma came, I stopped worrying about my kids. Grandmas are great!

Separation Anxiety

Two days before we left for Disneyland, my oldest son had an upset stomach and stayed home from school. He seemed genuinely sick because he lay on the couch for 5 hours and never asked to get on the computer. He felt better later in the day when he was surrounded with family.

The next morning he woke with an upset stomach again. At that point, I was ready to take him to school. He'd been fine the night before.

Suddenly an idea clicked in my brain. He felt sick because of separation anxiety (and jealousy). I proposed Dad spend the day with him (and the two other boys).

The next morning, my son reluctantly let us drop him off at the babysitter's house. The two other boys did just fine.

At the airport, the school called and put on my crying son. We told him he needed to do his best to stay at school and everything would be fine. We were already checked in at the airport.

Over video chat that night, my oldest wouldn't speak to us. He was too mad and too jealous. Yet he wanted to stay in contact. Emotions cause such ironic actions.

What's Continental Breakfast?

Five-star hotels--like the Disney Grand Californian--provide continental breakfast, right? No, they don't. For all you pay, they can't provide a breakfast that a two-star hotel would! They assume only rich people go there. We ain't rich--but we ain't poor.

We figured the gift cards from my husband's work would cover our meals with some left over for souvenirs. First place we stop for brunch, we had to rethink the costs. 

We entered the first restaurant in the hotel, The Storyteller's Cafe. The hostess said $31, but we weren't sure. We had the breakfast buffet, unsure how much we'd have to pay. I calculated $62 plus tip, while my husband figured it was $31 for both of us. Yea, it was $62+.

At this rate, we may not be able to cover all our food expenses with the gift cards only useful at Disneyland (not at Downtown Disney). We only had walking access to dining in the parks and hotel. The hotel room had no microwave or fridge. No, you can't make your own meals easily.

Once we entered the park, we found other places only cost $10-$15 per meal. We could afford to eat! The second day we found a snacks place tucked out of sight at the hotel. I wonder why it's the furthest place to walk to get food...

We bought peanut butter, jelly, and bread, which fed us for two meals and snacks. The gift cards covered our food expenses and a few souvenirs.

Wonderful Weekdays!

On Thursday, we walked right into the Grand California Adventure and had no wait to get on the River Run and a few other rides.

We wandered around to other rides and places. My husband got a fast pass to the Cars Race ride for later the night. Fun!

For some insane reason, I proposed we go on California Soarin' roller coaster. My husband and I screamed almost the whole time. I shut my eyes on the loop. I could fall out!

My husband felt comfortable on the loop because he knew gravity would keep us in. I technically know this, but that still doesn't compute when I'm afraid I may pee my pants. He hated the descents and the time getting to it. A picture that we may or may not get from Disney's website tells the story.

The anticipation is worse than the realization.

I was more worried on Soarin' Over California because my feet had nowhere to touch. I wanted a roller coaster again!

Friday morning we went to Disneyland and I felt crowded until the afternoon came. It was so peaceful before.

On the Star Tours ride, I didn't secure a water bottle. It rolled around my feet while I tried to keep it near me. Yea, right.

Don't Rain on My Parade!

Please, please rain on every single dratted Disney parade at dinnertime and nighttime. I used to love parades as a child and teenager, but times change. I want to go from point A to point B without detouring to Point Z. Actually, Disney should have better routes to get around parades!

On Friday night, my husband and I soaked ourselves on Splash Mountain and had to return to the hotel to change before his work dinner. (That picture was even more frightening than California Soarin'). Heading to the restaurant in California Adventures, we walked into a parade. We circled around but hit it again. We waited 15 minutes to cross the street.

Luckily, dinner waited until after the parade. I ate a salad with suspicious textured ingredients, but I couldn't see it in the low light of the restaurant.

We had a fast pass to the Indiana Jones ride for 8:25 pm to 9:25 pm. After dinner, we went back to the hotel room and then headed to Disneyland.

We get in and the color parade is going on. At the entrance we need to go left, but we are forced to go to the right. The way was clear, but "cast members" blocked the way. I griped while my husband took photos.

He said, "We might as well enjoy it." 

Never say that to a sleep-deprived woman whose feet hurt from standing in lines all day.

The parade ended and we could move forward, but on the wrong side of Main Street. All we needed to do was cross the street! We were able to go to the other side when cast members directed us the other way--the opposite direction of the ride.

Magical fireworks bloomed over the castle. We saw it from all angles as we circled around it only to run into more ropes and "cast members."

Somehow we found our way to the ride an hour later. I was cursing parades and fireworks heartily by now. Yes, they are magical for some. Open up the way across the street!

I was disappointed in the Indiana Jones ride when I realized it wasn't much of a roller coaster ride. For some reason, I craved the pit and scare in the stomach. Oh the thrills.

When we exited the ride, a "cast member" announced a parade in 15 minutes. I ran as fast as my sore feet could carry me to the exit.

Go Cougars

I wore a BYU shirt at Disneyland, but I felt it was such a subtle symbol. The shirt only has a Y in gemstones on a dark background. (I am not a sports fan, just showing where I graduated from.) I hoped to feel some solidarity with others.

Walking through Adventureland, a pirate cast member stage whispered "Go Cougars!"

My husband didn't get what the pirate said.

I have one regret though. I wish my family and had BYU-Idaho shirts since that's where we lived for five years while my husband attended. I have more Idaho pride despite my two years at the Y.

Home Glorious Home

I was ecstatic to go home. My own bed, pillow, and my boys. Food in a fridge and I can cook my own food. Home is more magical than Disneyland.

Child-proof Device Manufacturers Owe Me for Broken Stuff!

"Boy Making a Phone Call" by Petr Kratochvil

I enjoy watching HGTV shows. I'm currently watching the Small Space Big Style collection on Netflix. People design their small spaces with so much storage, but without toddlers in mind.

I want more storage--toddler-proof storage.

The Failure of Child-proof Devices

Forget the flimsy child-proof catches and other devices. They don't work!

Toddlers are smarter and more motivated than adults when they desire something.

My sons just copy my actions to undo child-proof mechanisms. Or they rip the piece of furniture apart trying. My middle child pulled so hard on cabinet doors linked in the middle that one door pulled apart to pieces.

I once believed that keeping items in high places kept toddlers from getting them. My first child taught me about chairs. My second child taught me about chairs, storage bins, and shelves. My third child is teaching me about chairs, stools, ladders, counters, and persistence. 

My third knows no bounds. I removed the stools to the garage and I have some peace, but it is quickly vanishing. He has found the keyboard bench.

Real Child-proofing Methods

We need real protection for our kitchen cupboards, bathroom cupboards, computer desks, refrigerators, microwaves, ovens, trash cans, water faucets, toilets, and anything within a ten foot reach of a toddler.

So what word really work to keep children out of cupboards and appliances?

• Iris scanners
• Fingerprint scanners
• Reinforced hinges and steel parts
• Locks
• Deadbolts
• Four finger combination pads 
• Mind wave scanners

By the way, all of these methods must be combined for true effectiveness. Toddlers know about keys and technology, so I'm not sure this is even enough.

My next dilemma are plugs. Those plug inserts release with a mere touch of a toddler's finger, but meld to the wall with an adult finger. Toddlers need a taste of the danger. Plugs should send out a minor shock, except toddlers would make it a game.

Electronic Devices

My boys haven't figured out how to hack or circumvent passwords on electronic devices yet, but they will someday. My older nephews have figured out passwords through brute force hacking.

Electronic devices need combined fingerprint, iris, and toe scans as the first step to use them. Then a blood sample. Next a mind wave scanner. The mind wave device will sense the intent of the user. The user must radiate virtuous vibrations.

The Best Child-proofing Method

Teaching and modeling self-control is the best child-proofing method. (Yes, I've gone all philosophical.)

1. A parent must be consistent (have you met any 100% consistent parents?). 
2. A parent must be firm (with few layers of fat).
3. A parent must remain calm (no microaggressions).

I haven't met a perfect parent yet...but I have met more effective parents. Effective parents love and respect their children, give boundaries, and model good behavior. 

I never even knew some rules existed because my parents modeled self-control. My siblings and I imitated most of their behaviors.

This method is for the long haul and requires patience. It requires forgiving yourself when you fail and doing better next time. No comparing yourself!

Meanwhile, embrace the mess! It is a reminder my toddler is learning the law of gravity and entropy.

What child-proof mechanisms would you invent? Do you stress over your toddler's mess? How can we teach self-control and not let parent-guilt set in?

A Parent's Revenge

One night, I thought of all the things to do to my boys once they are adults. I laughed for an hour just thinking of my specific revenge for each child. My husband added a few, but then told me to go to sleep. I was on a parenting high and my mind churned thoughts for an hour or more.

"Baby with a Laptop" by Petr Kratochvil

To my oldest:

• When you buy your first camera, I'll dip it in soup repeatedly. No, I will not buy you a new camera.
• When you won't let me on a computer in a public place like the library, I will scream until you leave.
• I will knock over your first house plant and spread the dirt around. And I will do it again.
• I will sneak into your fridge, eat your favorite food, and grind it into the carpet.

"Super Diaper Man" by man's pic

To my middlest:

• I will draw on your wall with permanent marker, crayon, pencil, pen, and with other lovely substances.
• I will spill juice on your kitchen floor multiple times a day.
• I will wipe chocolate, diaper cream, and other substances all over your walls, tub, and floor.
• When I have to wear diapers in my old age, I will take them off when you aren't looking.

"Naughty Boy" by George Hodan

To my youngest whose motto is "If I can't have it, nobody can!" -Dad

• I'll unwind all your toilet paper and spread it around your house.
• I will throw all your college homework, leftovers, and dirty glasses off your table. I'll throw the glasses hard enough so they'll break.
• I will take away your cell phone and throw it on the ground when you try to get it back. And yes, my goal will be to crack it into pieces.
• My husband says, I'll "rip his glasses off many times, repeat, and throw them farther" each time.
• I will dump your drinks on the floor for sheer curiosity.

The list will probably grow as my children grow older. Sadly, I've forgotten so much of what my oldest two boys did as toddlers. I better update this regularly, so I'll have my full revenge one day.

What would your parents do to you? What would you do to your children? All within reason, of course.

Don't Engage Your Brain!

"Bored Cat" by David Wagner

I shouldn't be writing at this late at night because I don't want to engage my brain. It's only 9 pm, but I run the risk of my brain thinking long after I retire for the night. I already take sleeping pills and this may counteract their effect. This is partially a symptom of bipolar, but it goes for everybody.

For sleep hygiene, you shouldn't engage your brain near bedtime. The news before bed or crime shows lead to worse sleep. And it leads to bad dreams. Don't you want happy dreams? Writing 3 good things before bed led to a good dream for me.

Leave heavy subjects for earlier in the day. Besides a tired brain isn't the best for solving world dilemmas.

How do I disengage my brain at night?

I put on the same music at night on my computer while I play boring computer games. I like solitaire and freecell. However, the matching game on Purble Place takes too much brain power. Anything else engages my brain. Must disengage brain. Must be bored near bed time. Let my eyes droop.

My frenemies near bedtime are a good book, series on Netflix with an engaging plot, or a new blog to explore.

The last hour or two before bedtime is about powering down, not revving up. So veg before bed with boring repetitive stuff. It'll put you to sleep like an infant during daytime (not nighttime).

What's on my playlist?

I know you're dying to know what my playlist is. I like to have songs that feel calm, spiritual, nostalgic, or relaxing. Here goes:

• Wunderkind by Alanis Morissette (love the Joan of Arc reference)
• I Remain by Alanis Morissette
• China by Tori Amos (such a symbolic song)
• Winter by Tori Amos (father and daughter relationship)
• All I've Ever Needed by AJ Michalka (God is enough and not the world)
• Somewhere Out There from An American Tail (Who else loved the song more than the movie?)
• How Can I Not Love You by Joy Enriques from Anna and the King (the perfect unrequited love song)
• (What if God was) One of Us by Joan Osborne (I want to say, "God was one of us!")
• El-Shaddai (so symbolic of Christ)
• Un Lugar Celestial by Jaci Velasquez
• The Climb by Miley Cyrus
• The Rose by Bette Midler
• Brave by Sara Bareilles
• and more random stuff

How do you disengage your brain?

Swivel, Swivel, Toil and Swivel Bike Ride

"Girl on Bike" by Bobby Mikul

Yesterday, my family and I ventured for a bike ride. It was a perfect time because the clouds blocked the sun and it was below 100 degrees Fahrenheit after weeks of scorchers and no rain. I'm in front with a bike trailer of toddlers connected to my bike. My oldest weaved in front, the side, and behind me. My husband followed behind to keep stragglers from straggling.

About a half mile into the ride, my handlebar jerks to the right side. Soon it swivels upside down and the gear shifts lower. I try to fix it while riding, but it gets worse. My oldest had zoomed a half block ahead and I called for him to stop. We all stopped and I put the handlebar to rights. I start again and it swivels faster. The gears shift even lower and I can't change it while hauling an extra 75 lbs of toddlers. My husband says not to put any weight on the handlebars--yeah right!

I stop a block later and my husband takes my bike. He manages okay with it while I'm trying to hoist myself on his bike. The seat is probably seven inches higher (our height difference). I just about fall trying to peddle forward. I moved forward some, but my pants kept getting caught in the chain. I cursed the bike after the second or third time my pants caught. I didn't know how to shift the gears either, so it was stuck on a low gear. Then the bike stopped moving forward. I hopped off to find the chain no longer on the cogs. I wanted to curse the bike again.

I walked the bike while my family was far ahead of me. I noticed new holes in my nicer blank pants. I don't need clothes anyway. My husband stopped at the corner and looked back at me walking the bike. He turned around and headed for me.

We debated about how to get the rest of the way home. I said let's walk home instead of him trying to put the chain back on. I just wanted to be home, but he refused and took several tense minutes putting the chain back on. It had twisted into the other gears, unlike the normal chain derailing. Curse that bike! Curse all our bikes! Curse my new bike! I complained it was a piece of junk (Walmart's cheapest). I switched to riding my bike.

We started again and my oldest wove in and out of my way. I yelled at him to get away because I had little control on the bike. My husband told me to calm down. Grrr! I stopped and walked the bike only blocks from home. Then my husband and I switched bikes. I coasted on his bike home, trying not to get my pants stuck.

My oldest and husband raced home. My husband was running with the bike and trailer. We made it home and I felt better but oh so annoyed! I found the hex key and my husband tightened the handlebar.

I asked my oldest if he had fun on the bike ride. He said, "Yes." Really? Glad he enjoyed it. I enjoyed a third of the time. I just feel like long bike rides are cursed for me. As some of you may know, I lost my glasses on my last long bike ride. Are my long rides cursed?

Goodbye Glasses

"Glasses" by Daniele Pellati

Last night I was riding my bike and bugs rushed at my face. I spit them out. My face soon became sweaty as I was dodging bugs. In the midst of riding fast, my glasses flew off my face. In the dark, I couldn't see worth beans. I touched every weed hoping it was my glasses. My husband came and he searched for the glasses too. No luck.

I put in my contacts this morning, which I hate, but I only have 15 year old backup glasses. I can see 15 feet away clearly, but not beyond that. Maybe not even that.

In the morning, my husband looked around for 20 minutes. I checked separately with no luck. One person passed by and asked if I was okay. "I'm looking for my glasses." She said she'd tell me if she saw any. I know I looked funny because I was weaving from one side to another scanning the ground. Maybe I looked drunk.

Today, I went to an eye doctor and set up an appointment. I need glasses now! I wish I could afford Lasik, but I am going to see if I am a candidate. I would be worth it to me to have perfect vision again. Only been going blind for the past 20 years. I hope I get my new glasses soon.

Authors Are Killers

"Bunhill Fields, London" by Paul Wilkinson

Author Sarah M. Eden tweeted on 5/27/15:

My 12yo: “What’s that face?” Me: “I’m trying to decide if someone needs to die.” 12yo: “If you weren’t a writer, that would be disturbing."

As an author, I often decide the fate of my characters. I realize that I have killed characters in my works in progress. Why should authors play God? Of course, we claim that our characters actually drive the action of the novel. However, we ultimately decide what to write. As an avid reader, I've noticed certain patterns of authors as killers. Warning: may contain spoiler alerts.

Widow(er)makers

During college, I read a lot of Anita Stansfield, an LDS romance writer. She had a pattern of a horrible first husband who had to die for real romance to happen. In the novel First Love and Forever, the woman falls in love with a man outside of the LDS faith, but she knows she shouldn't marry him. So she marries an LDS guy who turns out to be financially secretive. So what has to happen to him? A convenient car accident kills the first husband and the protagonist female can pursue her first love who has converted to the LDS faith. Similarly in Christmas Melody, the first husband was addicted to pornography and committed suicide. Cue, perfect second husband.

Another LDS romance writer, Rachel Ann Nunes kills spouses on occasion. In her Ariana series, one of Ariana's sons dies and a daughter-in-law dies. The remaining daughter-in-law marries the still living son. At least this happens over a series of books and the first spouses were good.

In Return to Me, the first wife dies, but enables the second wife to live. And the list goes on with other spouse killer plots. These deaths were at least necessary to the plot.

All of these romance plots influenced me early on in my marriage. Sadly, I told my husband that if he died then I would remarry soon after. Now, I want him to live as long as I do. He wants me to live too. Besides, we don't want to go through the dating process again.

Orphan Makers

"Seriously, you have to get rid of the parents because no good mother or father will allow their child to take a perilous journey or quest to save the world or whatever." -Julie Wright

Children's books often have incompetent or dead parents so the child can be the hero. One of the most famous of our time is Harry Potter. Dickens knew this well too. YA author Julie Wright explains this phenomenon well in this blog post. 

As a side note, another class of orphans includes children left with stepparents. For example, children without their biological mother or father are at risk in fairy tales: Cinderella, Snow White, Hansel and Gretel and so on. What is it with wicked stepmothers? Were they that awful during the Dark Ages that it survives in so many of our fairy tales?

Tragedy for Tragedy's Sake

Some authors kill off characters just for the shock value or to elicit some emotional response. It's somehow literary and thought-provoking. In my opinion, it often ruins the story and the reader is ticked off. Who hated the ending to City of Angels? There's no point to Meg Ryan's death. I know they wanted to emphasize the fragility of life, but her death ruined the entire show for me.

Shakespeare killed off so many characters in his tragedies that it is seriously a farce after so many times. In fact, we cheer for Hamlet's death in the end. I did anyway. And why did Romeo and Juliet have to kill themselves? Check for a pulse and breathing, for crying out loud! Truly, I hate Romeo and Juliet simply because they are too young. As adults they would have the brains to run away or resign themselves to loving someone else.

When Can an Author Kill A Character Reasonably?

I'm okay with some characters dying in books. Wicked villains deserve to die, rot in jail, or repent in jail. Some plots are more poignant with the death of a character, but it has to be done for the right reason (or because it's based on true events). It has to be foreshadowed and a significant part of the story--not an afterthought or this would be "literary." Tale of Two Cities, is a good example of how to kill a protagonist right. Dickens foreshadows Sidney's death similar to Jesus' death. Sidney sacrificed himself so someone else could live. It's a bittersweet ending that carries hope. The movie Return to Me is another great example.

So if an author kills a character, there better be a very good reason why.

So what deaths in books and movies did you agree with or not agree with?