If normal means a trip to the ER, then yeah, we're good.


I had the bottle of wine cracked open before the last child was up the stairs for bed tonight.

After what seemed like a relatively calm holiday weekend, Memorial Day proved to be memorable -- or infamous. Take your pick.

Right before bed, Chip told Jamie and me his three favorite things in the world are: pancakes, LeBron James and cheerleaders.  I honestly had nothing to say. I just hugged him and kissed him goodnight.  That episode was a heck of a lot funnier than this afternoon.

Apparently an old colleague and friend of mine spent the day hanging out with the Jayhawk's top recruit Perry Ellis.  Jamie and I spent most of ours at the ER with Ollie.

In the end he ended up fine.  It was nothing more than a bruise to the forehead suffered after Ollie tripped on his feet.  Throw in the fact he threw up afterward though, and to a trip to the ER was inevitable.  We were moved in to a room rather quickly, but almost two hours and $75 later we were sent home with a list of things to "check" regarding Ollie's behavior.  Did we have to go? Probably not.  But it put us at ease to know there was no concussion.  Even though he is ok, I hate to see the little guy looking like this.

However, he wasn't done.  After running around my dad's living room and throwing remotes, glass decorations, a dog leash, some HotWheels and almost knocking over a guitar, he fell and smacked his face on Bo the dog's cage door.  He got a nice little cut on the chin.  Soon it was time to go because everyone was worn out and tired -- even my brother, "Uncle Willie."  Of course he was just tired from watching Ollie.  Not babysitting him, but literally just watching him.

At home it was baths and bed for the kids.  But Ollie didn't go down without a fight.  In the five minutes I struggled to put a new diaper and pajamas on him, he managed to bang his head on the wall again and pee in the corner -- the final sign it was definitely bed time.  He's sleeping as I type this and, after no nap, a blow to the head, a cut chin and constant running around, I'm pretty sure even Addie could scream at the top of her lungs and he won't wake up tonight.  At least, we can only hope.

ON THE LIGHTER SIDE

In a span of about ten minutes this morning prior to "the accident," Ollie accomplished the following:

• Threw a soccer ball down the steps and knocked over a picture of the kids Jamie made by hand

• Ran and fell face-first three times
• Found part of a dinner roll from last night under his chair and started chewing on it.  When I saw him he took off, fell and dropped the roll like a thief being chased by the cops.
• Dug in the trash with his face
• Fell out of Jamie's arms and hit the steps
• And crawled into a laundry basket

He is one talented kid!

HEARD FROM THE MOUTH OF ADDISON NORRIS

The first quip came from Jamie as I was in the kitchen and she headed in to the living room.

"Addie. Put your clothes on."  Mind you, this is totally normal to hear at anytime during the day regarding Addie.

I then heard Jamie talking to the older kids and asking them to please help and pick up the messy playroom. Addie's response: "Why should we have to? It's looked like this for days?"

A few minutes later Chip comes in to the kitchen. The following conversation ensues:

Chip: "Dad, Addie called me a dufus!"
Addie: "Well...." With a look that could only mean, "if the shoe fits....."

Are your kids this crazy?!

Did you know Richmond is famous for its sweaters?

After three posts and some deep self-reflection, I'm thinking maybe  this blog could focus on the fact that our whole family is crazy, not just the kids. (Although Jamie may argue it's the kids and just me who are crazy).  For the record, I do realize that part (probably a big one) of the reason my kids do crazy things is because of me.  Take, for instance, today.  We were home and planned a trip to the Richmond Metro Zoo. I thought for sure there would be some great fodder for the blog, but in very un-Norris like fashion the kids were pretty awesome -- no fighting, yelling or falling out of the sky ride into the rhino pit.

Thing is, I was kind of the crazy one.  You see, Jamie likes to wait until the last possible minute to tell the kids where we are going when we have something planned so they don't bug us about how much longer it will be until we go -- trust me, this is a good idea.  This is where my antagonizing nature came in to play.  I told the two older kids we were heading to the sweater museum -- more specifically the Virginia Museum of Fine Sweaters.  (a reference to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts to all you non-Richmonders).

I had a whole elaborate plan going (Jamie was just a silent accomplice).  The kids could try on different sweaters and even ask for custom made ones. Addie wanted a Jayhawk one but Chip told her people here don't know what a Jayhawk is.  I even told them there were sheep outside the museum and we could watch them get a "haircut" so the workers could make the sweaters.  Well, Chip heard us talking later about the zoo and knew we were actually going there, but Addie had no clue until we walked up to the front and said, "Why does that sign over there say z-o-o, zoo?"

I convinced her it was a mistake and we paid and went inside. I asked her what sweater she wanted and she still said, "A Jayhawk one."  At this point I actually felt bad and we finally told her it was the zoo.  Funny thing is she was so excited she didn't even bother getting mad at me.  We had a great day with no incidents -- fighting was minimal and injures were absent, which if you know our family well, is rare.  All was good until we were heading to the exit and Ollie decided to throw is sippy cup. You know that throw toddlers do when they are finished with something? The kind of, "screw this, I'm done and I know some sucker adult will pick it up" throw?  Well, we were on a hill above the warthogs when Ollie decided, screw this sippy cup with the hot water/juice, and threw it down faster than gravity.   Jamie had to decide to either run after the cup or let Ollie roll down the hill.  She hesitated (I'm kidding), she grabbed the stroller only to watch the cup roll down and land on a ledge just inches from the warthog pit.  I finally decided to go after it only to hear the roar of an employee golf cart, and quickly hopped back over and asked the nice worker-man to get it.  You can see below he obliged.

So, Ollie did one crazy thing, but we had a good laugh.  Today was great because my kids were awesome and another parent at the zoo made me feel like a great one.  When her daughter was complaining about something, the mom said, "Stop whining like a three-year-old before I slap you like a two-year-old."  Mom-of-the-year there!  I don't even know how you slap someone like a two-year-old.  Anyway, nothing earth-shattering to report from the Norris household, but right before bedtime Chip did remind me that while my kids may be crazy, it's not all their fault.

Anyone who has even one kid knows it's possible to lose them -- even in the house.  While we were getting Ollie and Addie ready for bed Chip slipped upstairs to watch TV.  When Jamie found him a little bit later, instead of Disney, PBS Kids or Nick, our six-year-old son was watching "Joe Dirt."  When Jamie asked why he was watching that, he said he couldn't find the remote, which was on the night stand literally a foot away.

I then began rehearsing my speech for Father-of-the-Year and asked myself, "Are your kids this crazy?"

From normal to crazy in 2.3 seconds

It looked as if there wasn't going to be anything to post tonight. It was a pretty normal day in the Norris household, except for the fact Chip had the day off from school. I came home a little early and we all headed for a drive to Carrytown Cupcakes -- which by the way are the best in Richmond.

It was humid today but we all needed to be out of the house after battling some sickness.  Well, what started out to be a normal day turned in to a pretty rough night for Chip.  It began when we had to basically pull him across the street so he wouldn't get mashed by a car after he was moping across because it was "too hot."  It was like 87 -- we used to live in KS where 87 in the summer felt like a freaking blizzard!

On the way home we stopped at Dot's Back Inn for some greasy, diner food and apparently a viewing of every tattoo that has ever existed.  There was so much ink in that place I thought I might get a free tat with the purchase of two entrees.  The food was pretty good and the service reminded me of the friendly atmosphere of when we lived in Marion.  During the meal it was Ollie's turn to be crazy.  That kid threw so many objects while at the table I think we should have iced his arm when we got home.  He tossed crayons, a fork, a knife, half his food, a napkin, ice cubes and he even tried his plate.  However Jamie was one step ahead of him and caught it before it hit the ground.  He actually threw a purple crayon and hit the arm of a man at the table next to him.  Good thing he was too old to even notice.

But when dinner was finished and I was cleaning up what seemed like tsunami wreckage under Ollie's chair, and Addie had finished her grilled cheese with the crust cut off, Jamie noticed Chip's white shirt looked more orange than anything.  Remember he is almost seven.  You would have thought the child ate his spaghetti with his eyes closed and his right arm tied behind his back.  

Then on the way to the car he once again decided to walk through the street as if  he would do damage to the cars if they hit him. I asked him what he was thinking and he said, "I don't know, I wasn't paying attention." Which is of course what every adult in his life has told him to do when preparing to cross the street.

 When we pulled in the driveway, he may have committed the biggest faux paux of all.  As he was getting out he once again was not paying attention and stepped on the box carrying the famous Carrytown Cupcakes.  Luckily no desserts were injured in the brutal attack, despite the photo below.

After heading in the house and determining the cupcakes were ok, things settled down a bit.  That was until Jamie and I were in Ollie's room when we heard Chip yell. It could only mean that his giant, 25-pound, five-year-old sister had gotten the better of him.  Readers of this blog know by now that despite her petite stature and sweet little voice, Addison can dish it out with the best of them.  She apparently landed a fastball to the lip of Chip from about three feet away.   This was no Nerf ball either, but a hard plastic one.  He had been antagonizing her and she didn't like it.  She claims not to have meant to hit him, but judging by the fact his upper lip had doubled in size in 2.3 seconds, it didn't really matter.  Both ended up in their rooms for the rest of the night and couldn't believe Ollie got to stay up later than them.  I told Addie that's because he wasn't fighting, when she replied in her sassy tone, "That's because he's a baby, duh!"

So, needless to say it didn't take long for what seemed to be a simple day turn in to another episode of  "The Norris Family."

I love those three little munchkins more than anything, but they really are going to make me gray sooner than later!

Are your kids this crazy?

Even babies can be crazy!

Remember in my opening post when I said 16-month Oliver wasn't crazy yet? I said I'd give him six months.  It was more like six days.  As I was spending the day at home sick, trying to get some rest, this kid ate like a teenage boy who had been lost in the woods for a week.

He stuffed the following food in his mouth at some point during the day:

Wheat Thins, fruit snacks, a chocolate chip cookie, granola bar, banana, raisins, animal crackers, BBQ chips, block cheese, Corn Chex, Goldfish, club crackers and about three sippy cups full of whole milk.

Granted some of this we fed him, but others he stole from the snack cabinet that for some odd reason we thought was a good idea to keep at his eye level. Why we have not invested in a two-dollar plastic lock or moved the cabinet higher is clearly bad parenting.

Mind you, all of this food did not include his breakfast, lunch or dinner.  At the end of dinner we thought he had finished his macaroni and cheese, only to realize most of it ended up stuck to the peach fuzz that sits atop his round, little dome.

You see, unless you have enough money to hire a live-in nanny, you are out-numbered once you have three kids.  (For some reason Jamie and I didn't think about that. Hey, I'm a writer not a mathematician) So, later that night when we were more than likely yelling at one of the older kids and trying to find the other one, Ollie decided it would be fun to splash around in the toilet.  He did everything short of jumping in.  When I found him, his arms were wet up to his sleeves and the grin on his face rivaled the creepiest of clowns -- which are forbidden in our house because of Jamie's phobia of the circus attractions. (needless to say she thought the photo below was cute, albeit a little scary)

The one good thing about the incident was miraculously the toilet was actually flushed.  We've found out children under seven are allergic to toilet handles, therefore they never flush them -- yeah, that's it.  So I scooped him up and took him to the bathtub while Jamie cleaned up the mess little "innocent" Ollie made.

While Ollie won the award for craziest Norris, here are a few Addie highlights from the day (Chip was pretty tame for the most part.)

• Although it was playful she had Ollie in a choke hold at one point and told me, "He likes it."

• After fighting with Mitch I asked her what she did, and she responded, "I bit him in the back, and I might do it again."

• "I'm good at hitting," she told me. And she wasn't talking about baseball.

• At the end of another minor scrap with Chip she came to me complaining he had hit her. I asked her, "What did you do to him?" Her response: "Nothing. I mean, I did kick him."

Ladies and gentlemen, my crazy children!

Written, May 17, 2012


Please tell me I'm not the only one with crazy kids!

At the exact time I am writing this I am 30 years, 272 days 18 hours and 16 minutes old. That's actually pretty young. If I were a dog I would be around four-and-a-half. My wife Jamie says sometimes I act like I am. That point aside, what makes 30 seem even younger is I have three kids under seven. 

Mitch, who goes by "Chip," loves soccer and driving his parents crazy by not only talking non-stop, but by analyzing the you-know-what out of everything. Oh and making sure some kind of ball is bouncing somewhere in the house at all times!

Addison turned 5 in April but is going on bitchy teenager. She can be the sweetest thing at times but her favorite phrases include "Whatever," "I hate you," and "Loser."


Oliver is 16 months. He is such a sweet little kid right now. But he has two negative things going for him: his older siblings beat the, again, you-know-what, out of him (usually unintentionally) and his birthday. He was born on Dec. 29. He already got rooked on his first birthday (we were moving in to a new house.) I can see him at 10 whining because a relative gave him one present and wrote "Happy Birthday" and "Merry Christmas" on the card. For now, though, he isn't that crazy. I'm giving him about six months after hanging with his older siblings every day.

Now that you know a little about my kids, also know this. I love them more than anything and would do anything for them. But they drive me nuts 50 percent of the time...and they sleep 33 percent of the time. Throw in the fact I'm at work 40 hours a week, and that means they are driving me crazy even when I'm not around them. 

Take for instance the time Jamie told me Addie fell out of a tree and hit her head at a birthday party. The girl falls once a day while walking and even occasionally when she is just sitting in a chair...that's right, sitting! Why is she climbing a tree?! 

Or the time I was living in VA waiting for my family to join me from KS. I called to talk to Jamie, and Chip answered. He told me Jamie poked Oliver's eye with a fork while feeding him and he went to the ER and currently was sporting a patch any pirate would be proud to wear (ok, he didn't say the pirate part, I was just imagining). He then hung up. I headed in to Buffalo Wild Wings to tell my buddy about it and he couldn't believe it. Finally I get a hold of Jamie and she had no idea he even said it. Come to find out he made it up because he thought it was "funny."

On the lighter, yet stinkier, side of crazy things my kids do, Addie showed off her "skills" just tonight.  As I was putting her to bed, she broke wind and the proceeded to tell me she should have done that in my face, all the while laughing like an evil demon. 

These are my "sweet little darlings." When I head to bed and kiss each goodnight I will think about how much I love them while remembering all three, even Oliver, yelled or hit me at some point today. Of course I question my parenting skills at times, but then I always want to know from fellow parents:

Are your kids this crazy, or is it just mine?!