Quirky begins with a Q...
I love my kids. I really do. They are so hilarious. I honestly can't remember a time in my life when I laughed so much. They are just the funniest, quirkiest bunch of kids I've ever met.
Now, don't get me wrong. If I'm completely and utterly honest, there have been a few days where the fighting and whining got to me so much that I just wanted to get in the car and drive away - without the kids. Of course, I never did - because I understand the repercussions if I did something like that... but, boy, the thought was there. And if the truth be told, at least once or twice a week for the past few years - when we're eating supper - I say to Sim, "Oh, honey, this food doesn't agree with me. I'm not feeling too great".... and then I dash off to the bathroom, lock the door, sit down on the bathroom floor and read a book or flip through a magazine. And then about 15 or 20 minutes later, I emerge feeling "a lot better" and join the family. Honestly, I've been doing it for so long that I'm quite surprised Sim hasn't suggested that I go to a gastroenterologist, but so far he hasn't. And he doesn't read this blog either, so if he discovers my little secret then I know one of you ratted me out!
But the point is, despite feeling overwhelmed on occasion - okay, on a lot of occasions - my kids are my life - and I adore them. They are too funny.
For instance, did you know that every morning they eagerly line up like little soldiers to take a teaspoon of cod liver oil??? What kind of sane and normal child does that? Even Noah! My kid who won't touch a vegetable unless it's minced up and disguised, opens his mouth like a baby bird and slurps the fish oil off a spoon every single day. And Eli and Nandini have actually gotten into a fight over who got the most oil. And they beg to take "fish eggs" which is basically cod liver oil in a pellet form.
Then there's Nandini, who actually turned down a sugar cookie the other day at an all-you-can-eat-buffet in order to get a THIRD helping of turnip greens. Now, I will admit that I don't walk around thinking of my kids as being adopted. In fact, sometimes people have to point out that I didn't, in fact, give birth to them - because I forget. But at that instance - when she chose the turnip greens over the cookie - it hit me like a freight train... "This child doesn't share one bit of my DNA".
Ah, Nandini. Sweet Nandini. Who sleeps with her tongue sticking out. Who I'm afraid is one day going to have a bad dream and actually bite that tongue off. Nandini who has a terrible temper and likes to torture the dog if she gets angry. Nandini, who likes to take off her leg brace and use it as a weapon against Eli's head. Nandini, who can toot like a grown man.
Her bowels should be labeled as a Weapon of Mass Destruction.
Yep, that's our Nandi.
Then there's Eli.. who has a weird obsession with his Peluche. And, no, that's not some preschool pet name for his you-know-what. Peluche happens to be his teddy bear that we sent to him in Guatemala when he was 3 months old. That thing is practically surgically attached to him, and he can't go anywhere without it. But the weird thing about it is that Eli has to rub Peluche all over his face and arms and tummy about 17,000 times a day. Honestly, it probably has something to do with his sensory issues - but it's a quirky little behavior that cracks me up.
And, of course, there's Noah. Quirkmaster of the U.S.A. He loves to stick suckers in dirty dishwater and suck on them. He likes to take the plastic potty seat off the toilet and stick it in the sink and run water over it. He likes to spin wheels on toy cars and hold his mouth up to the wheels as they spin. He has a nasty habit of chewing on dirty flip flops. (PICA, anyone?)
All of this, of course, can be attributed to his autism and mineral deficiencies.. but I like to think that he's just quirky.
Ah, quirky. My new favorite word.
Because, if you get too serious about it - which I've been guilty of in the past - you can easily overlook all the good stuff. So, I'm learning to lighten up. To get a grip. To remove the corncob from my backside. 'Cause in the long run, does it really matter if Nandi wants to stuff her toy poodle with pretend kitchen food? In fact, a few minutes ago, that poodle gave birth to a plastic canary in a bird cage. And I didn't even wince. Not even once.
And even though Eli has watched Barney's Waiting for Christmas video for the zillionth time this morning - because he says there are pretty girls in the film (??) - I didn't say, "Dude, I'm going to go nuts on your butt if you make me watch that one more time" (which I wouldn't have anyway, but, man, too much Barney will make you loco, you know what I mean?) I simply embraced the fact that he is 4 and that I'm glad he still watches Barney and Mickey Mouse Club instead of other types of videos that are marketed towards kids but are really too much for them.
And with Noah... who cares that he likes to sniff the bottom of his feet. Right? I mean, I'm sure there are perfectly normal people in the world who have weird foot fetishes. Aren't there? The main thing is that he's wonderfully happy, blissfully joyous, and he loves with his whole heart. That's what counts.
So. Today, I am embracing the quirkiness of my kids. My evergrowing brood. My two enchiladas and one hot tamale. My Noah. My Eli. My Nandini.
My three funny, wacky, QUIRKY blessings.
Leslie
Now, don't get me wrong. If I'm completely and utterly honest, there have been a few days where the fighting and whining got to me so much that I just wanted to get in the car and drive away - without the kids. Of course, I never did - because I understand the repercussions if I did something like that... but, boy, the thought was there. And if the truth be told, at least once or twice a week for the past few years - when we're eating supper - I say to Sim, "Oh, honey, this food doesn't agree with me. I'm not feeling too great".... and then I dash off to the bathroom, lock the door, sit down on the bathroom floor and read a book or flip through a magazine. And then about 15 or 20 minutes later, I emerge feeling "a lot better" and join the family. Honestly, I've been doing it for so long that I'm quite surprised Sim hasn't suggested that I go to a gastroenterologist, but so far he hasn't. And he doesn't read this blog either, so if he discovers my little secret then I know one of you ratted me out!
But the point is, despite feeling overwhelmed on occasion - okay, on a lot of occasions - my kids are my life - and I adore them. They are too funny.
For instance, did you know that every morning they eagerly line up like little soldiers to take a teaspoon of cod liver oil??? What kind of sane and normal child does that? Even Noah! My kid who won't touch a vegetable unless it's minced up and disguised, opens his mouth like a baby bird and slurps the fish oil off a spoon every single day. And Eli and Nandini have actually gotten into a fight over who got the most oil. And they beg to take "fish eggs" which is basically cod liver oil in a pellet form.
Then there's Nandini, who actually turned down a sugar cookie the other day at an all-you-can-eat-buffet in order to get a THIRD helping of turnip greens. Now, I will admit that I don't walk around thinking of my kids as being adopted. In fact, sometimes people have to point out that I didn't, in fact, give birth to them - because I forget. But at that instance - when she chose the turnip greens over the cookie - it hit me like a freight train... "This child doesn't share one bit of my DNA".
Ah, Nandini. Sweet Nandini. Who sleeps with her tongue sticking out. Who I'm afraid is one day going to have a bad dream and actually bite that tongue off. Nandini who has a terrible temper and likes to torture the dog if she gets angry. Nandini, who likes to take off her leg brace and use it as a weapon against Eli's head. Nandini, who can toot like a grown man.
Her bowels should be labeled as a Weapon of Mass Destruction.
Yep, that's our Nandi.
Then there's Eli.. who has a weird obsession with his Peluche. And, no, that's not some preschool pet name for his you-know-what. Peluche happens to be his teddy bear that we sent to him in Guatemala when he was 3 months old. That thing is practically surgically attached to him, and he can't go anywhere without it. But the weird thing about it is that Eli has to rub Peluche all over his face and arms and tummy about 17,000 times a day. Honestly, it probably has something to do with his sensory issues - but it's a quirky little behavior that cracks me up.
And, of course, there's Noah. Quirkmaster of the U.S.A. He loves to stick suckers in dirty dishwater and suck on them. He likes to take the plastic potty seat off the toilet and stick it in the sink and run water over it. He likes to spin wheels on toy cars and hold his mouth up to the wheels as they spin. He has a nasty habit of chewing on dirty flip flops. (PICA, anyone?)
All of this, of course, can be attributed to his autism and mineral deficiencies.. but I like to think that he's just quirky.
Ah, quirky. My new favorite word.
Because, if you get too serious about it - which I've been guilty of in the past - you can easily overlook all the good stuff. So, I'm learning to lighten up. To get a grip. To remove the corncob from my backside. 'Cause in the long run, does it really matter if Nandi wants to stuff her toy poodle with pretend kitchen food? In fact, a few minutes ago, that poodle gave birth to a plastic canary in a bird cage. And I didn't even wince. Not even once.
And even though Eli has watched Barney's Waiting for Christmas video for the zillionth time this morning - because he says there are pretty girls in the film (??) - I didn't say, "Dude, I'm going to go nuts on your butt if you make me watch that one more time" (which I wouldn't have anyway, but, man, too much Barney will make you loco, you know what I mean?) I simply embraced the fact that he is 4 and that I'm glad he still watches Barney and Mickey Mouse Club instead of other types of videos that are marketed towards kids but are really too much for them.
And with Noah... who cares that he likes to sniff the bottom of his feet. Right? I mean, I'm sure there are perfectly normal people in the world who have weird foot fetishes. Aren't there? The main thing is that he's wonderfully happy, blissfully joyous, and he loves with his whole heart. That's what counts.
So. Today, I am embracing the quirkiness of my kids. My evergrowing brood. My two enchiladas and one hot tamale. My Noah. My Eli. My Nandini.
My three funny, wacky, QUIRKY blessings.
Leslie
Comments
One of my daycare kids used to have a major foot fetish - he would beeline for any sock covered feet, burrow his little nose in and smoosh his face all around....it was hilarious and slightly disturbing. He grew out of it. Makes me giggle to remember it now.
Dreama... me quirky??? Nah. Impossible. I have no idea what you're talking about. :-)
Anonymous, thank you so much for the compliment.. but I don't think any publisher would ever have me. I use to many hyphens, too many comma splices, too many fragments... they'd never find an editor willing to wade through all my grammatical errors. :-)
Leslie