The Kids I Remember

The children want me to write about them, but I don’t remember much. Between feeding, burping, diaper changing, and general housekeeping, how could I? I was a mother who stayed home, because after three kids it’s no longer cost effective to work. Who would pay me what I’m worth, anyway? Would you spend more than ten years changing diapers hourly? It’s true, the kids weren’t all in diapers at the same time, but as soon as one child was out of diapers, a new one came along to up the numbers. In the pre-Pampers and Huggies days I could ram a safety-pin through a cloth diaper single handed leaving baby unscathed, while immobilizing the squirming infant’s leg between my knees. Yes, I won every baby shower diapering game.

no diapering contests anymore, we suck baby bottles now

 To prevent damage, I soon added chasing a dust ball around the house (my little dust ball never crawled, she rolled everywhere). Curious newbies of a family aim to experience everything. Between plugging guitar wires into a wall socket (someone has now invented plug covers), or hiding surfboards in Opa’s camper bathroom, I became so distracted I’d leave kids behind at restaurants (St. Petersburg) and uncles homes (La Puente). No wonder I tossed out Dr. Benjamin Spock’s baby book early on. The children’s explorations demanded discipline.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Benjamin_Spock

And boy did I learn discipline! It included growing eyes in the back of my head so I could see what a four year old was doing behind my back, growing an extra lobe in the brain to outguess the smart toddler hiding in the closet, and becoming a six armed Hindu god so I could catch one trouble maker, hold on to another, and tweak the ear of a third.

The first child was a quiet boy. In fact he was so quiet I kept checking under the blankets to make sure he wasn’t cold (dead). He was every mothers dream, sleeping through the night and sleeping through the day. He only woke for feedings, and then it was for an all you can eat repast. Today, I’d be hauled off for child endangerment because I fed the tyke solid food before he was a month old. I mean, he was screaming at the top of his lungs even after he’d finished his milk. I figured he was still hungry. Rice cereal (Asian like his dad?) stopped his screams, but not his adventures. Before he could walk, he climbed out of his cage. Nothing could keep him in after that.

Inch (nickname, she’s not an inchworm) didn’t have to climb out of her crib. She rocked on her knees with wild abandon until her mattress fell though the bottom onto the floor.  The boy whose feast we celebrated yesterday was a heavyweight. After one try and his accompanying crash to the floor, he never attempted to climb out of his jail again . . . now that’s self-discipline.

A certain rapport builds between siblings when there are more than two. They start to gang up on parents and all discipline deteriorates. I’d be racing to beat my baby stripper to the door (I was running a daycare and the Mc Martin trial loomed in my brain).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McMartin_preschool_trial

Meanwhile, her sister would be busy smearing toothpaste on bathroom mirrors counters and walls, embellishing all with toilet water. She was knee deep by the time I got to her. Arsen (nickname for our surfer) would be lighting matches in the garage by the furnace (thank goodness they didn’t sell flame throwers to kids), while even bigger brother would waste dad’s tools to build his robot.

Still cramming surfboards into small spaces

Hence the kids’ ability to cooperate with friends and employers today is a credit to the cohesiveness they learned from conspiring against their elders.

At least two of the children were easy going. The braniac, who probably daydreamed numbers (he’s an actuary now), and the pianist who spent most of her days hammering out new tunes she’d invented by the time she was two.

Did I forget anyone?

Don’t think so.