Happy Hens, kind of...

One of our favorite cultural children's books, Daisy Comes Home is about a girl in China who has the six happiest hens. The hens lay brown eggs that Mei Mei sells in the market. The story goes that the smallest hen was always picked on by the other hens who would force the little hen (by pecking and pushing) to sleep alone on the cold floor at night. Then, one day, she decided she'd had enough, so, she went down by the river and slept in a basket. Long story short, the river rose due to rain and carried off the little hen. She had to fight a bunch of animals along the way and then finally ended up at the market where some random guy was going to sell her as dinner. Mei Mei ends up rescuing her and when she gets back to the hen house, the little hen is full of new found confidence and strength and earns a place of her own on the perch with the other hens. And all the hens are happy. The end.

Our version of the story goes more like this:

(In the Car)

We are quietly riding along when Lily decides to sing a little song.

"Tomorrow, I love you," she sings.

"Stop it, Lily!" Madeline says.

"Tomorrow, I love you," Lily repeats a little more determinedly.

"You're Hurting My EARS!" Madeline says, getting annoyed.

"Tomorrow, I love you, Tomorrow, I LOVE YOU!" the broken record (remember those?) yells.

"STOP IT RIGHT NOW, LILY!" Madeline screams.

"TOMORROW, I LOVE YOU!" Lily shouts back.

(Somehow, fighting with the words "I love you" just isn't the same.) In order to try to regain control, I attempt to move the arm of the player to the next tune:

"Lily, let's sing something else," I say.

"Maaaaaaaay-beeeeeee faaaaaaaa awaaaaaaaay!" she begins. "Maaaaaaaaay-beeeeeee faaaa...."

"I DON'T LIKE THAT SONG EITHER!" yells the girl who, only a few months back, sang the same song dozens of times a day.

"What would you like to sing then, Madeline?" I ask, oh-so calmly.

"Nothing. I don't like singing," she says.

"TOMORROW, I LOVE YOU, TOMORROW, I LOVE YOU...." bursts Lily.

They learn to push buttons early. Lily will turn two this week but already she knows exactly how to get bloodcurdling reactions from her older sister. And though that isn't saying too much, since Madeline seems to be going through a highly reactive phase, it can be a bit humorous to those of us watching.

For example, the other day during room clean up, Lily found a penny and the scene went something like this:

"Look! A money!" Lily exclaimed.

"Hey, that's MY money," Madeline squealed.

"No! MY MONEY!" Lily said sternly.

"Give it to me, Lily. It's MY MONEY!" Madeline answered.

Lily smiled, held out the penny and said, "Here, Maaa Jane."

Madeline happily reached for it, at which point Lily pulled her hand away and squealed with laughter. The floors then started to shake, the walls trembled and the roof raised about 5 feet as Madeline belted out her indignation.

"GIVE IT TO ME!" she shouted.

"Ok, here Maaaa Jane," Lily said sweetly, holding the penny out to her.

Madeline reached for it again, while saying thank you this time, and Lily immediately pulled the penny back, giggling hysterically as Madeline fell to the ground, arms and legs flailing, and she was so angry she could hardly scream...(well, except for the 'hardly' part.)

At that point I thought maybe I oughta stick Madeline in her own basket, on an adventure down the river...but then, Lily, feeling sorry for her sisters dramatic state, (or perhaps feeling totally and utterly satisfied...such power!) handed Madeline the penny and moved on. All hens were happy again...

...Until last night when I heard a similar bloodcurdling scream from the girls' room and walked in to learn that, God forbid, Lily had the pretty, pink, kitten book that Madeline has cherished ever since Lily had picked it up a few minutes previously.

"What's going on?" I asked, already irritated since it was an hour passed their bed time.

"Lily, has my favorite kitty book and WON'T GIVE IT BACK!" Madeline wails. Lily shows me the book I don't recall ever seeing, and then proceeds to SIT ON IT so Madeline can't get it.

Amidst the crying, I browse through the bookcase and find a similar kitty book for Madeline who quickly trades it with Lily for the other book. After second thought, Madeline asks for her book back and instead of obliging, Lily, having found a new level of confidence, climbs on her bed, holds the book in the air and begins jumping, chanting, "No, MY book."

Thankfully Madeline was already on the floor so she couldn't hurt herself in the collapse that followed...

I left the room to look for a big enough basket but fortunately, when I returned, Madeline had exhausted herself and was sleeping peacefully on the floor, leaving Lily to quietly read both books on her bed. And at least one chick was happy. The end.

To all the Roosters out there: Happy Father's Day!

Well, maybe the rooster isn't the best analogy given how very non-monogamous roosters are but well, they certainly ARE likely to be daddy chickens given the harem they keep...

It seems only natural that on Father's Day I oughta mention some of the important things my own father has taught me over the years. My dad taught me: 

1) Make sure you have your measurements right. For instance, if you have a super high-tech camper, complete with the air-conditioner unit on top, making the thing about 10 feet high, make sure you don't try to drive under something that is only 9 feet high. (But if you do, don't look at all the people in the restaurant windows staring at you....simply pick up the air-conditioner, put it inside the camper, cooly get back in the cab and drive to the next stop...) I am so glad he never tried bungee jumping!

2) Take the time to do things correctly. For example, if you are going to hook up the septic tank on the aforementioned camper at the proper waste dumping place, make sure the hoses are hooked up all the way before you open the thing up.....Again, so glad he never bungee jumped. 

3) Trust those who may know better than you. Like, if you don't know where you are going and your 4 year old is saying you are going the wrong way, don't keep driving a few more miles. (My dear hubbie also recently learned the same thing about his GPS system when he had picked his brother up from the airport, got back on the highway and the GPS kept telling him to "get off at the next exit, and then get back on." Kurt decided to IGNORE the GPS and keep going, only to find out he was headed in the wrong direction down the highway...I suppose we do marry someone like our father afterall...)  Bottom line, trust the GPS...even if they are only 4. 

4) Something that is too good to be true, probably is just that. For example, that apartment complex  "up north" that will make you a lot of money if only you give some guy a lot of money to "go in with him on it"...well, it's too good to be true. Or, the magnets that are the next best thing in preventative and therapeutic medicine so you MUST buy an entire garage full to sell and retire off the profits? Too good to be true...

5) There is a time and place for everything. But church isn't usually the time or place. Especially when you are sitting in the choir loft, making raccoon eyes at your children.  With Mom SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO THEM! (Next up: Bungee Jumping...)

But in all seriousness, the most important thing my father taught me is that life, and all its craziness, is worth laughing about.  If it is funny, point it out. If it isn't, find out how to make it so.  (And then blame it on the kids if the only thing you can think of happens to stink...)

Thanks dad. Happy Father's Day. 

Lesson on Egg Yolks

"As soon as you drop the egg on the floor, cover it completely in salt. You may need to use a cup or more. It's important that it is totally engulfed in salt. Wait ten minutes. After ten minutes the salt will have absorbed all the liquid of the egg yolk and the egg and salt will become a solid mass. At this point you can simply sweep it up with a broom and throw it away!" -eHow.com

Or, you could do what most sane people do and take 5 minutes using a paper towel (or 4) to clean it up, saving yourself 5 minutes and a whole bunch of salt in the process.

The thing I love about parenting is that you learn something new everyday. Take today for instance. I started off the day by learning what happens when you back your SUV over a tricycle. (Hint: the SUV won...but on the bright side, at least now I know what to get Lily for her upcoming birthday.)

I then proceeded to learn just how sneaky-fast those teenage black widows are when I tried to get rid of the one living IN OUR MAILBOX! I am pretty sure I got it...but there were no remains to be found and well, that leaves quite a bit of uncertainty now doesn't it? I suppose I'll send Kurt to get the mail tomorrow...or perhaps Aidan if he isn't following directions....(no, no, I'm just kidding, I wouldn't send Aidan...but do you think Kurt would get suspicious if I asked him to increase his life insurance policy before going for the mail?)

Then there was the brief learning moment when I had put Liam down on the floor so that I could get the dishes in the dishwasher. The kids were busy cleaning up after themselves (or something like that, maybe not EXACTLY that but I am sure they weren't running wildly around the house and making huge messes everywhere...I mean, I'd notice that right?) and I looked over to see Madeline come up to baby Liam and pull him...across the floor....BY HIS FEET! And I learned then and there that no matter what you say to a three year old about the danger of playing rough with a baby, if that baby is laughing his head off, she isn't going to hear a word you say.

And finally there was Lily, who found the eight DOZEN eggs in our fridge...and then thankfully decided to play with just one...

"Egg Mommy! Egg!" she said excitedly while climbing down out of the fridge. You could practically see the fun ideas spinning around in her head, that is until she dropped the egg. And the entire thing slid out of the shell, and down between the grill and the floor, leaving the egg yolk underneath the fridge.

"Uh-oh, Mommy!" she said sadly as she leaned down...to smash the shell!

Ever tried to clean up an egg yolk under the fridge? Neither had I until today and by the way, I don't suggest the salt trick...

With a "Lily Did it" Here and a "Lily Did it" There

Here a cluck, there a cluck, everywhere a cluck, cluck...

Aidan's story (changed from his earlier account in which, "Lily did it."): 

"Well, Madeline told us to take the Light Brite outside and she told us to bury it in the dirt and then it got broken."

Madeline's story (changed from her earlier account in which, "Lily did it."):

"Aidan took the Light Brite and put it in the bathroom with all the pieces and the bubbles and it drowned."

My story (sticking to my original account in which "I don't really care which chicken did it."):

"Aidan brought the Light Brite to the dining room and somehow the pieces ended up all over the floor. (That was quite unexpected of course...and apparently NONE of the kids did it.) When I told the kids to clean it up, they excitedly got right to work, happily humming a merry tune while I made cookies. As I was pulling them out of the oven (the cookies, not my children), I saw the kids out in the dirt. Realizing the Light Brite was missing, I quickly saw what was going on and told them to dig up all the pieces and put them in a bucket. After excavating the Light Brite and all the pegs, they quietly took everything into the bathroom, filled the sink with half water, half hand soap, creating an endless fountain of bubbles and attempted to wash the pieces and the machine. It was when I heard Aidan and Madeline talking about the beetle in the sink, that I looked in and saw what they were doing. And I certainly didn't overreact or raise my voice or anything like that...

The Light Brite met its untimely demise due to the mud in its interior. The pegs, half of which I believe went down the drain (because THAT won't become a problem later...), were nice and clean AND USELESS so they too, were thrown out. I still don't know who did it, and although she earns accomplice status based on the amount of dirt smeared all over her face and her inability to deny the accusations, I strongly doubt it was Lily. Oh, and the beetle drowned."

Old McKaren had a Farm...

Plucked Chicken, take 2

And just in case there was any question:

"Hey mom, you want to know Nakedman's secret identity?"

(Insert suppressed urge to crack up hysterically.) 

"Who is it?" I ask.

"It's ME! Aidan!" 

(So glad he clarified that one!) 

Plucked Chickens

First, he was Spiderman.

Next, he was Batman.

Now, watch out world, there's a new super-hero in town.....

Dun-dun-dun-duuuuuuunt.....

It's NAKEDMAN!

Complete with a cape (a.k.a. hooded towel), Aidan comes running out nude yelling, "Look Mom! I'm Nakedman!"

(Think The Spectre, minus the pants...Ever seen a plucked chicken? It's THAT kind of funny...)

Really, need I write more?

But in case you were wondering, there is also a Nakedgirl (Madeline) who apparently is supposed to wear blue pants (kind of a misnomer there but not so much for Nakedman...let's just say he will NOT be wearing this costume, or lack there of, to school...)

Coyotes: Beware little Chickens

According to Backyard Chickens, here is a list of common chicken predators: Raccoons, Hawks, Foxes, Mountain Lions, Fisher Cats, Skunks, Mites and Coyotes.  

We have over half that list wandering through our yard and neighborhood regularly...watch out chickens (and small humans...)

We were driving home from school pick-ups today when I found myself contemplating the meaning of face painting and why the instructions would possibly say not to use the red, yellow and purple near the eyes or the blue and green near the mouth, or something like that... (Isn't that like giving someone a bar of soap and telling them not to use it under the arms or anywhere else you might find lymph nodes?) Aidan interrupted my thoughts:

"Mom, is God his dad?" he asks. 

"Whose dad?" I ask back.

"Is God, his own dad," he says. 

"Oh, you mean is God, God's dad?" 

"Yeah, is he his own dad? I mean, if he is everyone's father then he would be his own dad right?"  he asks. 

And here I was thinking about face paints....

But, like most parents of very-young-and-still-willing-to-speak-to-us children, we are used to these questions around here. Just a few days back, Madeline had asked a very long series of Coyote questions, most likely springing from the fact that when she wouldn't get in the car that morning, I had told her she needed to get out of the bushes and to the car right away.  

"Why?" she asked stubbornly.

"Because if you don't, the big coyote dad saw this morning might come eat you!" I had hollered back in one of my prouder parenting moments. She immediately got in the car. But about an hour later, the questions came spewing forth:

"Can a coyote swallow a bee?" she asked. (Yes)

"How about a mouse?" (Yes)

"Can a coyote swallow you?" she asked curiously. 

"No, I would be too big for it to swallow," I said.

"What about a mommy mouse?" she asked. (Yup)

"Can a coyote swallow AIDAN?" she really needed to know.

"No, it could bite Aidan but I don't think it could swallow Aidan whole," I explained.

"Oh, THEN he would need some band-aids," she said. "Poor Aidan."

But even at three, Madeline can ask some pretty hard-to-answer questions, like the ones she asked on the way to get Aidan from school.

"Mom, does God die?"

"No," I said, foolishly hoping that would be enough.

"Why not?"

"Because....because God is an always living spirit," I said, fumbling for the right words. 

"Are we always living spirits?" she asked.

"Well, kind of. Our spirits are but our bodies will die one day," I answered.

"Oh, that's sad not to have a body," she lamented. "Does Aidan have a body?"

"Yes," I said. 

"Where is it?" she asked.

"At school," I said as I watched her eyes widen in the rearview mirror.

"He keeps his body at school?!" she exclaimed.

"Only when he is at school," I explained.

"Well, can God get swallowed?"  

I was about to answer her when she continued:

"...by a coyote?"