A Year in Quotes, 2018

As this year comes to a close and we reflect on 2018, I am reminded that both boys started at new schools (one was due to rezoning, one was due to the former school closing) and have made new friends, though they both miss their old ones. We have escaped another year (fingers crossed) with no broken bones or trips to the ER. We've made many fun memories with family and friends, and are grateful for our village. On paper it may seem to an outsider that we've really hit a stride with this parenting thing and that we've figured out the basics. Lest you ever think we've got it all together, I've compiled our annual list (you can find last year's quotes here) of quotes that the husband or I have said to or about our kids, and I present those out of context for you here. This has become one of my favorite traditions, writing down the things I hear come out of our mouths and then reading them all at the end of the year. I promise these are real words we have uttered in 2018. There are probably more, but I was too preoccupied to write or remember them. I present those to you here with outtakes from our Christmas card photo shoot. 

I’m not in charge of why certain things are called specific words. If you have an issue with it...write your senator.

Winning doesn’t matter, it’s all about having fun and getting dirty.

I don’t think Prissy wants to surf.

It’s like your chair has a jack in the box spring that keeps pushing you out.

This restaurant has a no wrestling rule.

Scissors aren’t for cutting bananas.

Giving it back is part of sharing. Otherwise it’s called stealing.

Sorry we’re late. Had to pull over and take all the light sabers.

Don’t eat anything off any car, but especially a stranger’s car.

Don’t pet the dog with the oven mitt.

I don’t think Cheetos are made from cheetahs

Go put that back in the offering plate.

We don’t put fingers in our bottom, and if we do, we don’t wipe them on the wall.

Since we don't know whose cat that is, maybe we shouldn't put a coonskin hat on it. He or she might not like that.

If y’all don’t keep fighting over the tv you have to watch historical documentaries.

Why did you punch the frozen chicken? What did you think would happen? 

No, no, no. I'm glad you weren't going to touch it with your hands, but the kitchen tongs are not for picking up a dead bird outside.

No parkour in the hotel.

You can’t harmonica with food in your mouth.

Most animals don’t go to college or have jobs, that’s the main reason a penguin can’t be a doctor.

If you want to touch someone’s privates, touch your own.

Quit putting cheez it’s in your arm pit.

Your jingle bell bow tie is not for Easter.

I don’t think people can sleep while they’re awake.

If you’re creating a worm memorial, it doesn’t need to be on the sidewalk right in front of the house. It doesn’t have to be in the exact spot he/she died.

I don’t think cantaloupe has a bone.

Someone has put your menstrual cup in the sink to stop it up and put a witch in there.

How did the toilet seat land on your shoulder if your head wasn’t in there?

When you get a job you can buy as many sparkling waters as you want.

No more sitting on heads tonight.

Don’t do that unless you’re drowning.

We don’t play games at funerals.

I can’t make the sun less hot.

We’re not driving a deer bone to the beach. Don’t eat near that deer bone.

It’s my job to keep you safe. It’s not my job to watch your show in the back seat while I’m driving.

We’ve at least got to make it look like you’ve had a bath this month.

I don’t think Guinean pigs can swim.

You've GOT to leave your shoes on in a porta potty.

Do you think the baby Jesus wants you to fight over a manger????

I don’t think dogs go to dog college.

That’s called a pay phone. Don’t put your train ticket in there.

We don’t have to fight over who gets the burnt taco shell. Everyone can get one.

The container of our ice cream maker is not a good place for a lizard to live. Find her a new home. 

Don’t open closets at the White House.

The president doesn’t want you to pick your nose. And the secret service is watching.

You don’t have to be making an animal noise every second you’re awake

You don’t need a drill for brushing teeth

Please don’t wake your brother up in the night to ask him to help you find a bandaid you lost in the bed.

It’s not a competition of who has the sharpest teeth. 

Don’t put your booger in my nose.

No humans are smaller than a mouse.

You cannot be dead for the Christmas card picture. Come back to life.

Don’t put roast on the dog.

If I can hear you yodeling it lets me know you are not brushing your teeth. 

Don’t steal a car is a rule everyday, not just on Christmas Eve.

Did you just lick the rain off the car? Tell the truth. 

I don’t think there were elephants there when Jesus was born. 

Don’t cut the trolls hair with nail clippers. 

How do you both have trail mix in your underwear?

Tuesday

The Boy has been out of school since LAST FRIDAY. I don't know why schools are trying to give me my children ELEVEN DAYS before Christmas. Y'all oughta keep them until December 23rd, I think. I love and appreciate my kids' teachers like no one else. They get better gifts than my children's father, because teachers love my kids and they aren't even required to. But dang, I would give an extra gift if you'd keep these people a few extra days. 

BeYoYo finished this Wednesday, which was better. He only goes a half day, though, so by 12:30 everyday I had all the people at home, trying to keep them entertained. I had a morning meeting on Tuesday at our church, so I texted the mama of The Boy's good friend, Ryan, and asked if he wanted to come with us to church to entertain The Boy while I met. They had a big time, and they wanted to keep at it. The Boy asked if Ryan could come back to our house for a little while. Yes, yes, you can continue to play with each other and stay outta my hair. I texted his mom again and she said that was fine. 

I drove The Boy and Ryan to pick up BeYoYo from school. BeYoYo was so excited to see Ryan, because Ryan is the sweetest 7 year old on the planet, basically. I got everyone Happy Meals because I am awesome, and we went home. 

All the boys went upstairs to play and I started working on our dishwasher. I think the heating element is out, so I was troubleshooting and watching YouTube videos to see what to do next. The Boy and Ryan came down with a toy spaceship that was beeping. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. I couldn't hear my YouTube, so I told them to take it back upstairs or turn it off. The Boy said "We don't know how!" and they ran out of the room, laughing. 

A few minutes later The Boy came downstairs and asked if I would get the guinea pigs out for them to play with, so I went upstairs to help. I put both guinea pigs in the tub, which is what we do when they want to play with them. I don't want them running around the house on their own, but their cage isn't an ideal place for the boys to play with them. Plus, it's easy to clean up if they make a mess. Have you ever seen guinea pig poop? It's tiny and firm and pretty easy to clean. I put Speedy and Sprinkles in the tub and went back downstairs to the dishwasher. I called The Husband, who was working in Oklahoma, and complained about the dishwasher, and started washing dishes by hand. 

A few minutes later The Boy came downstairs again. He said "some soap spilt in the bathroom, and I accidentally stepped in it." I told him to grab a towel and clean it up, and he went back upstairs. I went back to washing dishes. I could hear the boys playing upstairs and having fun. A few minutes later I heard a loud crash followed by shrill-someone-is-definitely-hurt-screaming. I ran upstairs to investigate. 

The Boy was holding his head and crying. He had a large knot on his forehead and he was jumping up and down from either shock or pain or both. Ryan was looking at him with concern and asking him if he was okay. I started to ask what happened, but then I saw the bathroom floor. When he said some soap spilt, I thought he meant a little bit. He meant an entire bottle of kid's body wash spilt all on the bathroom floor and then they skated in it. The bathroom tile was covered in a thick film of gooey gloop, and there were footprints all throughout. I asked what happened and everyone talked at once. Apparently The Boy slipped in the soap and landed on the tile floor on his forehead. Not one of his appendages tried to catch his fall, he just soap-slip-flail-fell face first. I imagine there were cartoon sound affects. 

Instead of checking on his injury, I told The Boy that they all had to get out of the bathroom immediately. The Boy asked if they could go to the downstairs bathtub. I said no, I'm not moving guinea pigs to yet another bathtub. He said they just wanted to put their feet in the tub to rinse them off, no guinea pigs involved. I approved that and sent them on their way. Soon I heard the downstairs water running. BeYoYo called to me "I want to take a bath!" I told him no. 

I stared at the tile for a long time. How does one remove soap from a floor? It was kind of like if someone needed to move a large amount of honey from one place to another. How does that happen? I needed either a giant bee who could follow directions, or one of those big sticks with a ball at the end? That didn't seem right. I needed a backhoe or something. Actually, demolition might have been easier. I settled on scooping up the excess soap with towels, and then folding the towel over on itself to keep it contained. I went downstairs to put the towels in the washer (no detergent needed!) and could still hear the bath water running. I marched into my bathroom to tell The Boy to turn off the bath water when I saw him completely in the tub. In his underwear. Ryan sat on the edge and had his feet in the water. I asked The Boy what the heck he was doing, and he said it felt so good he wanted to get in. I was glad he left his underwear on, at least. Then I heard BeYoYo asking for help, and I turned around to see him sitting on the toilet. I had one child with feet in the tub, another one in only underwear in the tub, and amidst this chaos apparently BeYoYo had come in to poop. He made himself right at home and didn't mind at all about the boys in the tub. I gave him a quick reminder about privacy and decency and not pooping in front of guests. He shrugged and asked me to wipe him. He's fully capable of wiping and I told him so. Then I wiped him anyway because it was faster than convincing him, and I wanted him to get out of that bathroom sooner rather than later. 

I told the big kids to get their shoes (and clothes!) on, because it was time to take Ryan home. Actually, it was a little past the time I told his mom we'd leave. They got out of the tub and The Boy decided he needed a fresh batch of clean clothes on, you know, since he'd just had a bath and all. He changed clothes, put on his shoes, and I grabbed my keys. I kept hearing something beep but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from. I asked the boys what the sound was and where it was coming from, as I was picking up jackets and hats looking underneath them for the mystery sound. The Boy opened the door and pointed to the spaceship on the porch that they'd had earlier. He explained "we can't get it to turn off, so I put it outside!" I picked it up and looked for an off switch but couldn't find one, so I left it and put everyone in the car. 

We ran Ryan home and came back to the spaceship still beeping. I searched for an off button and found none. I tried to take the batteries out, but couldn't find a screwdriver small enough. I called the Husband, who did not answer. I left him a hateful voicemail saying that I couldn't find a small screwdriver because the garage was a mess and it was all his fault and that there was beeping and a head injury and guinea pigs in the tub. I let the ship beep into the phone for good measure. I posted a video on facebook asking others for help, but all their suggestions included hammers and submerging in water. After trying for what felt like a really long time, I gave up and placed it back outside. Sorry, neighbors. 

I went back upstairs and stood and looked at the bathroom floor. It was still soapy. The tub still had guinea pigs in it. AND whatever body wash had spilled all over the floor had also spilled into the tub. So the guinea pigs were slippery, and they had been in the tub longer than usual, which meant more mess than usual. Plus their usually-super-easy-to-clean-and-not-messy-poop plus the addition of the soap had turned the tub into a soapy shit sludge. I told each of the children that they were required to watch tv until further notice. In separate rooms. 

I decided I needed to start with the tub, because I didn't want to clean the floor and then be walking on the freshly wet floor while cleaning the tub. First things first, I needed to put the guineas back in their cage. But their cage needed to be cleaned. So I cleaned their cage and gave them fresh bedding. Then I set about picking up the slippery guineas and putting them back in their cage. Do you know how hard it is to catch a slippery guinea pig in a slippery tub? I wiped off their little paws and tossed them into their freshly cleaned cage. Then I realized it would be much easier to clean the tub if I had a detachable shower head. I had one in the closet that had never gotten put on, so next I changed out the shower head. Once that was done, I used the shower head to clean the poop out of the tub. Then I ran a tub full of water and let bleach soak in it to kill any leftover bacteria. Whew. Now I could move on to the floors. 

I decided I needed to mop, but it seemed like adding water to the already soapy floor would just make suds. I called my mom, because that is what you do in emergencies. I relayed to her the soap and the slip and the ship and the shit. She was empathetic. She suggested trying salt to get up the soap, but I thought that just might make salty soap. So then she suggested vinegar, so I gave that a try. It did make bubbles, but I used a little at a time and I came upon a combination of vinegar, mop, towel, repeat. Vinegar, mop, towel, repeat. It was working. 

I went downstairs to take out the bathroom trash that had guinea bedding, and to put the math mats and towels into the dryer. I walked outside to take out the trash, where I was again confronted with the beeping ship I had left on the mat. Just then, the Husband called me back to ask if I wanted to apologize for the mean voicemail I had left him. I told him I did not, and I recounted to him about the soap and the slip and the ship and the shit. He had THE NERVE to laugh about this from the safety of Oklahoma. I let the ship beep into the phone for good measure. Again. 

After all this, the dishes were still not done. I turned the ipad on so I could watch something and got back to the job at hand while still letting the boys watch tv in their perspective spaces. I had given up on salvaging the day. The ship continued to beep on the porch. The next morning I walked outside to check on the ship to see if the batteries had finally died. And there I found it, lying silently, with the batteries laid on top. One of my sweet neighbors must've come over and taken out the batteries overnight. Either it was driving them crazy or they took pity on us, but they offered us the gift of a silent night. 

The guinea pigs were nestled with care 

The boys played without a care. 

And I silently thanked the schools 

that usually let them stay there. 

Please take them back soon! 

Advent

Our church does annual Advent devotional books, where different people in the congregation sign up for a certain day and scripture and then write something about it. Someone compiles them all in a book and everyone gets one to take home and read and reflect on daily. The kids draw and submit artwork for the books, it's a whole family affair. People really put a lot of energy and effort into what they submit, and it's a thoughtful and intentional process.

So when Mrs. Becky announced in November that it was time to sign up for an advent devotional scripture if you were willing to write one, I signed us up. I chose a pretty simple scripture so we wouldn't be going over our heads:

8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. Luke 2:8-9


I sat down with the boys and read the scripture to them, and then asked them some questions about what they thought it meant. I wrote as they talked, and our "devotional" turned out to be this:

Here is our family’s conversation about the scripture. It is imperfect and unedited, unexpected and different. May we continue to look at the story with fresh eyes each year. 

What do you think of this part of the story? 

The Boy (7)- An angel came and they didn’t know what an angel was or maybe they’d never seen an angel. 

BeYoYo (4)- Maybe they didn’t know what an angel was, because most people know what different things are, but God knows everything. Also, God is everything. 

The Boy- He’s everywhere. 

BeYoYo- And everything!

BeYoYo- Maybe it was somebody who was told angels weren’t real. They are real, aren’t they? 

The Boy- Did you know some angels are still alive?

BeYoYo- Yes, even the ones that are with Jesus. 

Why were the shepherds afraid? 

The Boy: I have no idea. 

BeYoYo: they just didn’t recognize the glory of the spirit! 

Do you remember what happens next in the story? 

The Boy: One angel told them there was a new baby that was being born and he was the son of God and stuff like that. 

BeYoYo: I’m happy when I hear about a new baby because I get to hold it and play with it. 

What did the shepherds do after they heard about the baby Jesus? 

The Boy: There was a giant, bright star that led them to him. And the angel said the baby is born in Bethlehem. Maybe they asked the angels to take care of the sheep while they went to see him. 

BeYoYo: Then God came holding Jesus in his hands, and the angels came and picked up Jesus and gave him to God. 

The Boy: No, the angels gave Jesus to Jospeh and Mary. 

BeYoYo: And they put him in where the animals used to eat out of. Then the shepherds came to see him. And they picked him up to hold him. 

Amen. 

It was nontraditional at best. I knew several people might turn a side eye about how unpolished it was. And maybe the theology was all wrong. And perhaps a little irreverent to think of the angels sheep sitting? But I resolved that we would submit it anyway, because there were people who thought the first Christmas was unpolished and its theology was all wrong too.

So I started an email to Mrs. Becky. I said here's the Magness family advent submission- it's really something. When I was typing, BeYoYo said he really wanted to write some words to "Mrs. Vecky" also, so I let him write some gibberish to her. He was proud. I thanked Becky for compiling the book this year, and I sent it off. I only half held my breath.

Then a few weeks ago, Becky announced the books were ready. Yay! I always look forward to getting the book, then I read 5 of the devotionals that day and promptly lose it for the rest of advent. It's a Christmas tradition. I flipped through it to see if one of my kids' art was accompanying our devotional. December 15th, 16th, 17, 18th, 19th, here we are, December 20th! But when I turned to that page, this was what I found:

I had not included the attachment. I thought I was nervous about our original compilation, but we submitted gibberish! And sweet Becky read my email saying "it's really something" and thought I was referring to what BeYoYo wrote. She was too polite to write to me and say "what the hell, Leigh Ellen?" Speaking of irreverent. TheANGELoftheLORD appeared and our response was a string of random numbers and letters. What's more: this gibberish was not so out of place as my family's submission that she was positive it wasn't what we intentionally sent. I could just imagine Becky shaking her head in confusion and saying "classic Magness".

I flipped through the rest of the book to make sure our actual devotion wasn't listed elsewhere. It wasn't. Then I laughed and laughed and laughed. We had just sent gibberish out. I texted Becky and told her I might not have been clear in my email to her, and I was so sorry, and that I was laughing. She said she'd looked and looked for an attachment and found nothing else. Good naturedly, she suggested we were just prepared early for next year.

OPC friends, if you open your devotional on December 20th and are confused, we were just preparing you to feel the way the Shepherds felt when the angels appeared to them. It was an immersive experience. #ClassicMagness

Thanksgiving

I haven't been good about writing here. I'd love to do better, but life has been crazy and I haven't made time for it. But in the spirit of Thanksgiving and Advent and Chanukah, I'm trying to do better about finding time to sit still.

BeYoYo had been sick the week before Thanksgiving. He had a cough and a runny nose and then he spiked a fever of 103.5. I took him to the doctor and he tested negative for flu, she figured it was a virus but said he was fine to be around people after 24 hours fever free. So we quarantined him and gave him gatorade and otherwise went on with life.

Our Thanksgiving plans were to go to my aunt's house in Griffin for lunch, then to The Husband's grandmother's in Auburn (Georgia, not Alabama) for dinner on Thursday. On Wednesday, The Boy started with a fever. He was at my mom's house when I was at work, and she texted to say she knew he didn't feel well when he was being still.

I called my aunt to tell her he was sick. The Husband had offered to stay home with him while BeYoYo and I went to lunch, but my aunt was concerned about us having been exposed too, and she didn't want anyone else to get sick. She and I decided that we would not indeed come after all.
Instead we spent Thanksgiving morning watching Christmas movies and decorating for Christmas. The tree, Rubbermaid boxes of ornaments, wreaths, nativities, and lights, all spread from the attic to the living room. I asked BeYoYo if he wanted to help put ornaments on the tree, he said "No fanks. We did that last year."

Of course The Boy was feeling just fine. He was fever free and had no other symptoms. I took a nap to recover from the decorating, and we prepared to go to dinner. We'd seen no signs of illness for at least 24 hours so it should be fine. There are lots of kids on The Husband's side of the family, and both boys really wanted to see their cousins. We loaded up and headed that way.

The boys ran and ran outside with their cousins while the adults chatted inside and got the food ready. We had a whole room of desserts. Children were laughing and playing. Adults were gathered together. So much to be thankful for! We called all the kids inside for the blessing, and they came in with the trademark cherry red cheeks you only see on cold children and Santa Claus. BeYoYo asked me to hold him for the blessing, and I picked him up and held his cold face against my chest. He had really gotten worked up running outside in the cold, and the running activated his cough from the week before. When he started coughing I stepped out onto the porch by the kitchen so that we wouldn't interrupt the blessing. He coughed a hard cough, the kind where you're thinking he might be able to produce some mucus. I was about to tell him to try to get the mucus out when he puked all over me. 

All over my sweater and chest and neck, and his pants and shoes. I yelled into the kitchen to tell The Husband I needed his help. He told us to head to the wash room in the back of the house and he'd meet us there. I squeezed through the kitchen, through the line of adults fixing plates, through the dining room full of desserts and people starting to eat, down the hall, and to the wash room. BeYoYo was fine now that he'd gotten all of the mucus and other contents of his stomach out. He patted my face with his hand and said "it's okay mama, right? It was only an accident." I assured him through my gags that it was fine that he'd barfed on me during the Thanksgiving blessing. 'Tis the season.

We pulled off his hoodie, as he had a regular shirt underneath. I used a paper towel to wipe the puke off his pants and his hands and my chest and neck. I took off my sweater, but only had a skimpy cami underneath and it was not appropriate for wear outside the house or even outside the bedroom, honestly. The Husband appeared, having been to the car to investigate additional clothing options. We pulled BeYoYo's pants off and put on pajama pants for him. And all The Husband could find in the car for me was a raincoat. We bagged up the puke clothes in a grocery sack and I put on the raincoat on top of my cami. BeYoYo and I washed hands and went back in the kitchen to fix plates. It was a lovely Thanksgiving, aside from the puke fluke and me wearing a raincoat.

The next day the boys went to grandma's to play with cousins. They set up a candy sale on the front lawn to sell candy to passersby. They made a sign on a piece of notebook paper and listed individually wrapped mini candy canes for 25 cents each. They held each other up to emphasize their sign, but since we're talking kids holding kids, the holdee was just a mere inch higher off the ground than they were when they were standing. The adults took turns buying candy for a quarter. The kids did flips and cheers and yelled at cars. One poor guy rode by on a bicycle and they chased him, yelling "Candy! Twenty-five cents! Candy! Twenty-five cents!" The guy didn't make eye contact with any of the kids running alongside him, and we reigned them in. One stranger stopped and gave them five whole dollars and they were thrilled!

All seven of these kids are alphas and think they are in charge. I suggested maybe they needed a bigger sign so strangers would be able to see what they were doing. The Boy and one cousin went in to investigate bigger sign options, and they came back with some form of box lid as well as a folding table. The nine year old struggled with the table, then got frustrated and gave up. The Boy had started on the sign, but had started it in portrait instead of landscape, so there wasn't as much room to write. That didn't deter him from starting. He wrote CA in large letters, and then the 9yo came to "help". They argued back and forth about who was going to write. Then a 5yo cousin cried because his brother said he couldn't hold the sign, which wasn't finished. Meanwhile a 6yo cousin set up the folding table on her own. The other kids were still cheering and yelling at cars and trying to recruit customers. They finished the pitiful sign, which now said:

CANdy

It seemed more like a canned food drive or maybe a Obama speech than a candy sale. 

Luckily it started drizzling and we were able to get them to all come inside. They had made $6 in the hour they'd been outside. They came inside in a flurry, all talking about their successful sale. The two nine year olds who started the sale gave The Boy 65 cents for his help. The others held out their hands and the 9 year olds told them that The Boy was their only employee. A 7 year old demanded to be paid "I was doing flips for you! And I was yelling at cars too!" Her sister said "well, we didn't ASK you to do that. You were a volunteer." The 7 year old stomped off and The Boy kindly offered to share some of his 65 cents with her. She refused his money and set out to start her own candy shop in the living room. Hearing the commotion, I asked the two 9 year olds if they'd paid for their inventory. They said they already had, since they'd given The Boy his share. I explained the concept of inventory and told them if they didn't pay BeBe for the candy canes, it would be like stealing. I also explained that they had to pay her rent since they had been using her property for their business. They set off to reimburse Bebe. Then they came back and The Husband told them they'd need to pay taxes at 40%. They counted out 40 cents. He explained that they had to pay 40%, not 40 cents. They set about figuring out 40% of what they had left after rent and inventory and The Boy's commission. The Husband explained that they actually owed 40% of their total, not just what was left. They were disappointed and said "but we won't have any money left for us! And this was our idea!" My sister-in-law, who is mother to one of the 9 year olds and a small business owner, told them "owners always pay themselves last." 

They went to investigate the new candy store in the living room, where BeYoYo was quickly eating the inventory. The 7 year old was creating an elaborate display of candy canes on the top of the box lid on the floor. The Boy showed up with a canister of gum, the kind with square gum inside that is unwrapped. He dumped out the gum because he wanted to turn the canister into a bank for his 65 cents, obviously. There were cubes of gums rolling all about, and they had an idea to use the gum for their display. They squished pieces of gum into the box and used them to make candy cane stands. BeYoYo tried to sneak more candy, but the big kids told him he could only eat the ones that were broken. He set off to break some so he could eat them, but all the big kids yelled at him and he rolled his eyes and poked out his lip. And he didn't know where to put his sucker and his gum and his candy cane while he pouted. You can imagine how sticky he was. 

The day ended with Bebe and Uncle Grant taking everyone to the Dollar Tree to spend their hard-earned money. Since they only ended up with a few cents each, I'm guessing Bebe and Uncle Grant contributed some to the candy sale fund. The Boy came back with a stuffed animal Sloth that he has named Chocolate Face. 

A Sloth named Chocolate Face is now my Christmas persona. If you need me, I'll be on the couch eating chocolate and not moving. In my rain coat.