The Blame Game

When I was little, we had an invisible troublemaker at our house. There were eight kids but whenever something went wrong and fingers started to point and denial started to fly, we would inevitably end up with the truth...

the truth...

that nobody did it.

Isn't it just plain hard to take responsibility for our own actions? Not the good ones, mind you. I'm talking about the bad ones. I grew up, you know, and many years later, at a Christmas time family dinner, I finally admitted to being the one who pushed Roderick down the stairs and to coloring on the wall and signing Amy's name next to my drawings. I'm sure my mom knew it was me all along. I remember her shrugs when we all denied responsibility. "George did it. It must have been George."

George? He's the invisible troublemaker that lived with the Davies family. The one who killed the goldfish with shaving cream in the bowl. The one who put the matchbox cars under the wheels of the family station wagon. The one who ran through tar and then through the house. George.

Or, in the case of the current administration, George is George. As in Bush. As in, it's not our fault that the country is at war and the economy is in the tank. George did it.

And before that, it was Bill who did it. And before that, George again. See, it's the endless cycle. We all like to have someone else to blame, someone who is not us.

And that's why it was just plain funny when I got out the the shower and smelled Lincoln's poopy diaper. "Whoo-wee...you stink, Linc," I said.

"No, Maddox poopy diaper," he replied.

"No, buddy, Maddox isn't poopy. It's you. Maddox doesn't wear a diaper."

"No, Mommy poopy," was his answer.

Sure, Buddy. It must've been George.

*And as a side note, I almost called off my engagement to Stew when I found out he wanted to name his firstborn son George. Luckily, a daughter came first and then George sent him to war and his love affair with the name ended. Thank you, George!

The Fire Drill

Ah...the sweetness of January. You put away the Christmas clutter and take inventory. Some of us make resolutions to lose a few pounds, others decide they are going to get more organized. It's nice to have a new year, a fresh start, a clean slate...and a fire drill.

We decided that since we're in a new house, we needed to have a fire drill. You know, make sure everyone knows what to do in case of an emergency. We are working on training the kids to take care of each other. Hadley wouldn't be able to hear an alarm if sleeping so Maddox's job is to wake up Hadley. Hadley's job is to get Lincoln out of his crib and then to decide if it's safe to come down the stairs. If not, they are to go to Maddox's room, open the window and yell. We talked all about it and then came the big moment.

"Go to your bedrooms," I said as Stewart moved a chair over and got ready to sound the alarm. The air filled with an obnoxious piercing and then the patter of little feet, the crash and the screams.

You heard right...crash and screams. And then the practice emergency became something like a real emergency. Stewart couldn't figure out how to turn off the stupid alarm. I couldn't find Maddox in his room. I could hear the crying but all of the lights were out...we're trying to be authentic here. Something about the noise of the alarm made me truly incapable of reasonable thought.

"Make it stop, Stewart. Just figure it out!" I'm bellowing. Hadley, because of the confusion, can't really hear what's going on so she begins to yell, "Maddox, you're supposed to come get me." Lincoln doesn't know WHY we've put him in his bedroom with the door closed so he begins to shout, too.

"BEEEEEEEP, BEEEEEEEEP", shrieks the alarm, answering the children's screams.

I finally found Maddox on his closet floor. He decided that he needed to go into his closet and close the door for the fire drill. When the alarm sounded, it scared him and he tried to open the doors only to hit himself in the face. His head has a huge lump on it now, accompanied by several large cuts. Hadley finally emerged from her room to see what the problem was. She released Lincoln from his captivity, so we got one thing right. A few minutes later, Stewart finally figured out how to make the beeping stop. After spending a little while with an ice pack on his head, Maddox and the rest of us recovered from the fire drill.

I have spent at least an hour since then answering Maddox's questions about how fires start, what things are flammable, and why there's a picture of flame on an aerosol hairspray can. I must admit that now I'm feeling really nervous. I think he may be considering lighting the house on fire.

And the good news is...if he does, we all know what NOT to do!

Fruit Basket Tipped Over

Family Night on Monday...

I taught the kids one of my favorite games when I was a kid. They loved it so we decided to play again last night.

Hadley and Maddox both wanted to be a coconut...then a compromise was reached.

"I'm a banana!" Maddox shouted. "I'm a banana and I shoot lasers out of my bum."

I was a speechless strawberry (that almost fell off the couch laughing).