Open mouth, insert sock

I have become increasingly nervous about taking my children out, as I never, never know what they're going to say.  I talked about Judah's chattiness recently, but sometimes their unintentional mistakes with the fine English language make me cringe. Judah is going through the phase of announcing with gusto any objects we pass while we're driving along: " A WATER TOWER! MOMMYMOMMYMOMMY! A WATER TOWER! LOOK!"  "CAR CARRIER! A CAR CARRIER CARRYING NEW CARS! LOOK MOMMY! A CAR CARRIER!" "AHHH! A TOWER CRANE AND BASTRUCTION BEHICLES! BASTRUCTION BEHICLES! LOOKLOOKLOOK!"  (Combine this 300 decibel narration with Zion's shrieking, and Mercy's incessant commentary: Iwonderwhat'sinthatfreighttruck,mom.Mommommommy!What's inthatfreighttruck?Mommyanswerme.What'sinthatfreighttruck?" and you won't wonder why my hearing isn't what it used to be, and why a padded room looks attractive more often than I care to admit. Silence, where art thou?)

This fall, Judah, who is interested in all things about farming, found the freshly cut corn stalks and straw bales in the fields fascinating. Whenever we would pass a field with the large round bales dotting the scenery, he would shout "HELLBELLS! HELLBELLS MOMMY! HELLBELLS! LOOK!" Benj and I had to hide our snickering and firmly correct him: "Judah, it's HAY bales. Say HAY BALES."  Judah: "Yes. Hellbells."

We were recently riding along and we were listening to one of the Manheim Steamroller Christmas discs. When a new song came on, Judah shouted "FLUTE!" I said, "No, Buddy, I think that's actually a tin or penny whistle. It's kind of like a flute, but it's higher and more tinny." To which Mercy replied confidently, "It's a titty whistle." Ooohhh-kay. Tin OR penny whistle, not both.

I was fortunate that both of these conversations happened in the car, but I can imagine some of these words emanating from my innocent, sweet-looking children's mouths in the store, or in church. It will happen. I'm bracing myself.

Preview

This is the first time in four pregnancies that I've had a 4-D ultrasound. I don't usually have ultrasounds this late in pregnancy, but my midwife ordered one for our peace of mind after I was hospitalized with a virus and severe dehydration a few weeks ago. Apparently some viruses can cause heart failure in developing babies, so we just wanted a peek to make sure everything is fine. The ultrasound tech was fabulous. She explained everything to the other three children and pointed out little fingers, toes, the spine, brain, and heart (everything but the sex, wink). Then, to my surprise, she did 4-D images. She had a hard time getting a full facial, because the umbilical cord was right in front of the mouth and nose, and after being aggravated by the ultrasound for 40 minutes and performing impressive gymnastics, the baby was ready for a nap and we couldn't get him/her to move around enough to get the cord out of the way. So we only got partial views, but I'm delighted. It was almost like seeing a photo of the baby instead of a grainy ultrasound. He/she was around 3 pounds (measuring a week big, as usual!), so it has about 7 pounds to gain to be a proper Sommers baby. Anyway, here is a preview of our newest family member:

Judah wants a new mommy

I'm very grateful that Judah has learned that screaming "Owwww! Stop pinching me!" and "OOOOOOHHH! You're hurting me!" and "NOOOOOOO! DON'T SPANK ME!" in Target, the doctor's office and other public places for no apparent reason other than to get an unsuspecting stranger to call Child Protective Services was not having the desired effect. He's decided, in the typical manipulative fashion of a three year old, that being charming is much more successful. With his big blonde head, wide blue eyes, and irrisistable grin, I can see, I guess, why everyone from old ladies (and men!) to teenage girls swoon over him when he turns it on full force. His new MO is to call out "Hi! It's good to see you!" or "Have a good day!" or "Fine, thank you!" when someone even looks at him or asks him how he is. He even goes so far as to turn his winsome face up to cashiers and ask "Did you miss me?" And while I certainly prefer this to the temper-tantrum throwing, screaching, backtalking toddler that I know, sometimes his friendliness is just too much.

Yesterday, we had errands that had to be done--and had to be done yesterday. No waiting till I could leave the monkeys with Benj. Fun stuff like the courthouse to renew car registration, the lab for bloodwork (for me, fortunately), and the post office to mail a package. These chores are enough to bore me to tears, so I do try to have some compassion for three little ones, as I can imagine how interminably unfun it all is, especially in Christmas traffic and long lines. Besides charming the postal worker and making everyone in line with us grin, Judah was full of friendly quips and conversation yesterday. Except that so much of what he says could be used to make a case that I'm an unfit mother.

Judah, to random lady waiting in the lab: "My underwear are on backwards."
Mommy: "Judah..."
Judah: "My bum is ALWAYS bare."
I'm sure that lady was so glad she said "hi" to Judah.

Judah, to random tax office lady in the courthouse: "I live in a cave."

Judah, to random lady in line at Target: "My belly hurts from eating cat food."
(Have I ever mentioned that we don't have cats...that I don't LIKE cats? For some reason, Judah has recently been pretending he is Huckle from Richard Scarry's stories. We have to call him Huckle, and his meals are "cat food" and he sleeps in his "cat bed." This is where that comment came from, but what would you think if a toddler in the store told you that he had a bellyache from eating cat food?)

I suspect that Judah, er, Huckle, is tired of having me for a mother and is trying to figure out the quickest way to get put in foster care.