What Not to Teach Your Kids

You’d think I woulda learned after the Pig-Latin debacle, but no. The other day, when Reed and I said something simultaneously, I jinxed him. He didn’t have a clue what I meant. Coulda left it at that. Instead, I explained that he couldn’t talk until someone said his name. It was a short explanation, but one I will regret much longer. Of course Reed shared his newfound wisdom with Calvin and of course they have used it to the max every day. Here are the fun results of my stupid lesson:

-          Reed sounding out words and Calvin filling in obvious sentences to execute bedtime story jinxes on Mom. Then, immediately saying my name so they can keep listening to the story. And jinx me again on the next page

-          Calvin mumbling along while I’m talking, then quickly echoing key words from my conversation and shouting “JINX! MOMMY!”

-          The boys shouting concurrently, “JINX! DOUBLE JINX! TRIPLE JINX! FOURPLET JINX!”

-          Me saying Reed’s name fourteen times, thinking he had just been fifteenplet jinxed by Calvin, only to realize that it was, in fact, a fourteenplet jinx. Darn!

-          Countless times of the boys chasing me around the house wide-eyed, pointing to themselves and mouthing their name while I play dumb

-          Countless times of me deciding that the motioning is more annoying than incessant talking and saying their name to free them of their curse

-          Me desperately chasing Max around the house and picking on him to try to get him to say, “No, Mommy!” so I could talk again

-          A ban on all singing and “amen” jinxes, issued by Mom

-          Max shouting, “JEE!” and “DOUBLE JEE!” at random times

-          The boys getting mad at Max for not following the rules when jinxed himself

I'm thinking of making up a new rule: If you invoke the jinx rule more than ten times in a day, Mom can declare a semi-permanent jinx - no talking until you turn 18. 

Frightening Family Fun

The other night, Ryan and I pretended to be strangers, offered the kids candy, then abducted them. They screamed bloody murder and kicked the crap out of us. Another family fun night at the Layton house.

This game (which has become a highly-requested favorite) came on the heels of our decision to let Reed play on the playground with his other teacher’s kid friends after school. Unsupervised. Our school is out in the boonies (in a “town” with a population of 93) and the playground is fenced on three sides. My classroom window overlooks it. And two of the teacher’s kids are 10-year-olds who I have in class this year and totally trust. But still.

We had said no earlier in the year. I was actually leaning toward yes, but Ryan didn’t feel comfortable with it. Then Friday, Reed was talking with the other kids in a supervised area and they all decided to go to the playground. He came up the stairs to my classroom in tears. I guess the puppy dog face did me in. That night I talked it over with Daddy, and we relented. Then we gave a list of safety and behavior rules. We even practiced what to do if the other kids started saying bad words. Or being a bully. Or vandalizing. I probably gave him more ideas for mischief than any of them would ever come up with. Then we talked about what to do if a stranger came to the playground. This is what started the aforementioned game.

I gotta say, woe to the person who tries to kidnap one of my kids. First of all, they’re pretty stinkin’ fast! And “candy,” “lost puppy,” and “Hey, little boy” might as well be a starting gun, so you better come up with a new way to entice them close if you don’t want to chase them down. And if you do get ahold of them, look out, Buddy! They kick indiscriminately – and hard! You might be ok with Max. He’ll run toward you giggling (but you better be able to back up a candy claim) and willingly let you ‘nap him. But even he will break your eardrum and give you a few hard smacks. The hardest part of this training was teaching the non-kidnapped child to resist the urge to defend their brother and instead run for help. They are very confident in their ability to “beat up” the bad guy. Reed cited his fights with Daddy as evidence, “But Daddy is strong and we can beat him up!”

The game led to a conversation about why people kidnap kids. I vaguely explained possible reasons, which led to a vocabulary lesson on ransom. When I said, “If you don’t give me $7 million, your kid is gonna get it!” Reed was very concerned, “But you don’t have $7 million!” “Well, then…” I struggled, trying to come up with some kind of reassuring answer. Calvin cut in with, “Then we’ll have a problem.” I guess they’ll have to kick their way outta that predicament…

It’s sad that we have to worry about our kids playing on a playground and teach them how to get out of unthinkable situations, but we’re praying it’s worth it to raise independent, healthy boys who can kick the snot outta bad guys!

Why Goats are Mowing my Front Lawn

You know how people sometimes exaggerate about how tall their grass is? Stuff like, “You could lose a small child in our lawn!” or “We could make hay!” Well, that crap is  for real, here, people!  I could blame it on my hubby being too busy, which is true. I could blame it on the weather, which would also be sorta true. But the real truth is we are straight up ghetto here at Layton Farms. If you have four lawn mowers and none of them work…you might be a redneck. If one of your lawnmowers is up on blocks in the yard… you might be a redneck. If you put temporary fence around your front yard and move the sheep and goat flocks in the paddock for the weekend so they can eat it down to a level that won’t choke out the one lawn mower that works when you air up the tire every thirty minutes or so…I’m not sure what you are, but I’m right there with you.

I’m writing this post partly to vent, partly to apologize to my neighbors, and partly to explain that we’re not total lazy trashy bums.

It started months ago. Our lawn was freshly mowed and beautiful for the Raney/Smith wedding extravaganza in May. We beamed with pride. Then it didn’t rain all the rest of May and June, so Ryan only had to do a little trimming to make our dead grass look tidy for our 4^th of July party. July and August brought more drought – level 4 “exceptional,” record-breaking drought. So, we went into the school year having only mowed 1 ½ times all summer and yet not looking trashy. Win, right? Wrong. Because a few rains in August brought on some late-season growth. When Ryan went out to mow, he discovered his stand-by mower was broken. So, he went to use his back-up. Flat tire. Mowers 3 and 4 had been out of commission for over a year. I won’t go off on a tangent about why we find it necessary to keep worthless, yet large, pieces of equipment around. I won’t. (But I will think it in my mind every time I spy one of said worthless, bulky items taking up space in our shed – or yard) No biggie, he decided. Just let the lawn go a little until he could get some help from his dad fixing one of the two mowers.

Now I realize that normal people would probably pay to have their mower fixed, buy a new mower, or break down and hire a lawn service to do the job until they could get their own machinery up and running. If you haven’t met us, you should know that we’re not normal. In fact, maybe I should back up and explain a few things about us: 1) We’re incredibly cheap, 2) We’re incredibly busy this time of year, and 3) We’re not incredibly handy. So, this is a break down of the last month and a half

-          Visit to Dr. Dad. Mower fixed for about 1/3 of one section of the lawn. Conks out again.

-          Aired up flat tire. Mower makes it through ½ of a section. Weekend over.

-          Dr. Dad house call. Services include mini-lecture on upkeep and maintenance, section of lawn test mowed, and mower with clean bill of health.

-          Mower gets new injury. Won’t self propel. Ryan tries to force an extra-large deck (it’s one of those walk-behind jumbo mowers – not made to actually push!) through our extra-tall grass. Makes it a couple of laps around.

-          Air up flat tire. Twice. One section mowed! Weekend over.

-          Five Cross Country meets in four weeks.  Visits to family. Three failed trips to stores to find parts. Three family members, including Mower Man, sick. Grass keeps growing. Mowers keep being broken.

-          Attempt to hire high school students to  mow grass for a less-than-pro fee. One taker has to back out because their parents are worried our tall grass will ruin their mower’s blades. (That’s not embarrassing at all.)

-          “Green Slime” to fix flat tire. Fail.

-          Brilliant temporary fence with self-fertilizing mowers plan. Fail. Our regular fence won’t hold our livestock. Why did we think three strands of temporary wire would?

So, the hay (it’s not even grass any more) is still growing and there’s no real plan in sight. My folks are coming to visit next weekend and I’ve been assured the lawn would not be bowing in the breeze by then. But Mom and Dad, if you have to drag your suitcases through the amber waves of grain, please don’t judge. It’s not from lack of trying. And be careful - there might be a lamb or a small child hiding down in there.

Laytonz

There’s a new Rockband in town.

Daddy-o, the lead singer and guitarist, also sidelines as the baby bouncer. But watch out for his rocker edge. Known for his competitiveness, his eyes bulge and shoot dirty looks at his band mates when they can’t finish a set. Hot Mama does it all. You’ll be impressed with her unconventional drumming moves. She can play dueling drums with fellow rocker Baby Schmax on her lap. Her most impressive act is simultaneously singing, playing half of the drum set with Reed-man and running interference when Baby Schmax throws one his famous star tantrums. Schmax is all over the stage. He sings back-up and wanders among his band mates, trying to upstage them or steal their instruments. His favorite move is forcing the band to go unplugged for their performance. Reed-man and Cal-cal are a dynamic duo. There are rumors of tension between the two over who gets the “wireless” guitar. When they aren’t playing their fav instrument, Cal-cal prefers to sing and the Man likes to play half of the drums. Lyrics to their most famous songs include, “Hey! Oh! Let’s go!” and “Lalalala  la la” and “No! I’M singing!” When the seasoned rockers take the mic, they switch up some of the old classic lyrics to make them a little more family friendly. So check out this group, playing live in a living room near you!

Uper-say Annoying-hay

I’d like to apologize first to my parents for all the hours I spent speaking Pig Latin. Then, I’d like to extend that apology to anyone who has had any contact with my children this week. For some reason, I thought it would be a great idea to teach them the language that I had so much fun using during my own childhood. Oly-hay ap-cray! I never imagined they’d become fluent in the language, much less that it would become their primarily-spoken tongue. Reed speaks it as good as any grown up. Calvin is a little sketchier, but he’s got “upid-stay utt-bay” down to a tee! Potty humor is SO much more hilarious in a foreign dialect.

At a recent outing with Aunt Tavia (an outing that already involved time-outs in a separate restaurant booth by a certain medium-sized someone) I did what Ryan and I have had to do every day since – institute a English-only policy for the rest of the day. I explained that Pig Latin could get very obnoxious, so we weren’t going to use it ANY MORE! Reed replied, “Orry-say.”