My nice kids

I usually try and have a point,  a theme, or at least a joke when I sit down to write.  Today, though, I think I just want to talk about my kids.  They are so nice and good, and I know I don’t say that enough.  I can be a regular old mommy blogger from time to time, can’t I?

Yesterday, we had one of those mornings where you fall out of bed and just start running.  Up!  Up!  Eat, eat, wash your face, find your shoes, grab your lunch and go! Get the birthday brownies into the car!  Stuff your history costume in a bag!  Run in to beg the teacher for leniency for kid #1, who just got braces and thinks she is a monster now!  Run, run–zip back home, wash and brush and feed the rest of the kids, and then leap back into the car for everyone’s doctor appointment.  No you cannot have toast, go go go!

For three hours this morning, I did very little besides buckle and unbuckle carseats, and drive.  I also did some singing (“Hear the lively song of the frogs in yonder pond”), which miraculously still calms my 3-year-old when she gets in a hysterical rage over not having a long enough turn looking at the insert that came with the plastic owl her brother got from Burger King.

You may think that a hysterical rage would sort of quash my enthusiasm about how good my kids are, but she’s not actually really like that.  She’s a very happy person, but is going through one of those brain growth spurts, which makes her kind of unpredictably horrible from time to time.  I know she doesn’t want to be that way, because when she’s being awful, I say, “Do you want to be a good girl or a bad girl?” and she always chooses good — and actually does the thing that I tell her good girls do.  She just needs a little help remembering that she has a choice!

They were really being good.  It is no damn fun to be driven back and forth, back and forth, when none of it is about you, and there’s really nothing to look forward to but a possible Rugrats sticker after your shots.  Maybe we’ll see a turtle on the rock in yonder pond by the highway, but probably not. Maybe the crane on the construction site will be doing something cool, but probably not.  Red light means stop, green light means go.  No turtle today.

Then we got to the doctor.  My six-year-old watched the baby and the 3-year-old as I took the 4-year-old to the bathroom.  They ate some chalk and played with the bead maze toys, and waited some more.  Then, when we got to the doctor, everyone else had to go to the bathroom.  “Wow,” says the three-year-old, “That is a STRONNNNNG toiyet!”  I don’t know what that means, but she seemed impressed.

And then finally it was our turn.  The three oldest kids were the ones with appointments, but of course it was the baby (almost 18 months) who ran the show.  She stripped off her clothes and picked out a johnny gown from the drawer, since that’s what everyone else was doing.  (For the first time in my life, I wished I had a phone with a camera on it.)  She weighed herself.  She got a sticker, and even a picture book — and not just any picture book!  The doctor first showed her a board book, and she gave it a look of such withering disdain that the doctor laughed herself silly.  Then she found another, more mature book for the baby, who said, “Day,” (thanks) and trotted back to the exam room with her loot.

Then the three-year-old had to go to the bathroom again.

I had a moment’s consternation when my six-year-old son said he didn’t know the letters on the eye chart — but it turned out he thought they were supposed to spell something, and his phonics didn’t take him as far as sounding out “ROXCSTKNDT.”  Sort of reminds me of my sister’s story about her son, who claimed not to know the color of a crayon the nurse was holding up — oh, never mind, I’ll let her tell it in the comments.

Well, isn’t that cute?  That’s all I wanted to say.  I like having my kids around.


  1. I was trying to explain to someone the other day that I like (spending time with) my kids and had the distinct impression they didn’t believe me. Sad really. Thanks for putting in a good word in this direction Simmy.

  2. I’m not only Simcha’s sister, but also her biggest fan, which is saying a lot.

    My kids love those boxes of crayola crayons in 120 colors, and they used to play a game where they tried to find one that the other kid couldn’t guess the name of. It’s a tough game! Is is cerullian or blue-green? Or green-blue?

    It was my son’s five-year-old check-up. The nurse was testing him to see if he knew his colors yet. She held up a green crayon and asked him what color it was. He just sat there with a baffled look on his face. Later we asked him why he wouldn’t answer, and he said, “I didn’t know if it was jungle green or mystic mint, and she had her hand over the label.”

    He thought the developmental screening for five-year-olds was pretty demanding.

  3. One time, my six year old son had to go to the emergency room after getting kicked in the head by a mule. The nurse was trying to evaluate his head injury by asking him things like his name and how old he was. When he asked what is 2+2, Jonny looked at him and said, “I don’t know. I’m homeschooled.” I nearly gave him a second head injury. 🙂

  4. Sometimes it’s good to have a camera handy. The baby learning (on Tuesday) how to open the lower cupboard and remove all the mixing bowls, pitchers, and plastic-ware? Mildly annoying. The pictures of her sitting on the floor surrounded by her booty? Adorable, and literally priceless.

  5. Oh gosh can I relate to this!

    We’ve done Dr. appts the last two weeks in a row. Last week was hurry up and get one to school then two others across town to their big brother’s house while I take other three to the Dr. where 14 yr. old needs a breathing treatment and two needed blood drawn. One nearly faints after 4 vials and the other freaks out and has to be held down. Traffic is crazy because they are working on EVERY street in this town & I am frazzled.

    This week it’s back to check the wheezing child but first get the littlest one off to Grammie’s for the day and the other to school. Take four to the Dr. and then shopping for, socks, underwear, etc. all the stuff they grow out of.

    But they were SO good the whole time and yeah I like having my kids around too.

    P.S. I completely lost count of how many times we had to find a bathroom.

  6. Wow. I feel bad. That is Herculean. I don’t really leave home with my kids if I don’t HAVE to. They don’t even hardly know what the Dr. is, thank Heaven; but then I’m one of those 1920’s moms who doesn’t take anyone until I actually think they HAVE diptheria, pertussis or tetanus. Prevention, what?

    Argh, work through that whooping cough, kids… it’ll make ya stronger!

    Oh, and if one of my kids even thought about touching anything in the hospital, I would completely freak out. Maybe if it was in plastic wrap!

    • Martha, you are not the only one. You get very discriminating when you don’t have health insurance and have to pay for those visits out-of-pocket.

  7. We’ve got easy going, well behaved (came that way) kids, who we love hanging out with. I get a little sad when folks ask why we home school, or take the kids with us everywhere except date night, don’t we/they need a break? Well eventually, probably. But considering it’s about half way over, 18 years doesn’t seem like much to have them around, and we’re still drinking them up. We like them. A lot. Hurray for nice kids (all kids, really, nice is only one good thing, there are many, which is another good reason to hang out with them).

  8. Love this post. One of the things I find most depressing is when a mother states (often in front of her children) that she just could never be with her kids all day.

  9. It’s good to know I’m not the only one with an unpredictable hysterical three year old that can make car trips into major opportunities for sanctification (that I always seem to fail, hmmm…). I keep telling people that two is a piece of cake but three? Watch out! Of course, that’s just because I have a few months here before I have a two year old. Now if only this pesky Arizona summer would stop being so unpredictable hysterical. Or is that my 38-weeks pregnant self…

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