Rachel Vogel lives in the Midwest with her husband, three children and boxer puppy. She attends college full time in a pursuit of her MBA. She also works part time. She enjoys reading novels, going to movies, and sleeping past 6:30 a.m. However she rarely gets to partake in these activities. She spends most of her time chasing her dog around the house, surviving temper tantrums, and studying into the early morning hours.
Mrs. Vogel appreciates solitude and quiet. She hopes to experience this in 3-5 years. Quiet in her home means that something naughty is going down. At the exact moment the previous sentence was being typed, her two-year old son was sitting on the kitchen counter, quietly pouring the rest of the milk container all over the dishwasher. She acquires peace by prayer, hiding in the bathroom, or sneaking her latest read into bed late at night, after her husband has fallen asleep.
Mrs. Vogel is also the author of other acclaimed works, including Crayola Marker, Moms are Just Like Everybody Else, See? and The Fall of the Prince. She is currently at work on her next piece.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
We Love Trash Here
We love the garbage man. We here in the Vogel home are the garbage man's biggest fans. I know what your first question is... how do I become a big garbage fan too? Let me teach you.
Being the garbage man's biggest fans is a pretty involved task. In order to do this, you need a toddler (preferably right around age 2), a garbage man that comes by your house once a week, and some trash. Now here's what you do:
Step 1: Know what day the garbage man comes. My son Maximus knows that the garbage man comes on Wednesdays, so he asks me every day if today is Wednesday, and if so, is the garbage man coming. Here's how he says it: "When day garbage day? Garbage truck coming?" Tell your child not to worry. You have this under control.
Step 2: Drag a bunch of trash to your curb right before that day, so the garbage man is willing to get close to your surveillance sight. Like a carrot for the bunny, people. If your husband forgot to take out your trash, you better hop to it. This is a team effort!
Step 3: On the day that your garbage man comes, listen for tell-tale signs of his arrival. He drives a giant loud truck, which typically you can hear from a block or two (at least) away. This is very convenient, just in case you are in mid-diaper change and need time to wrap the kid up and scramble to a window. (Bonus alarm here: your child will also hear the garbage truck coming, and he will start to scream in excitement.)
Step 4: Race to the nearest window and wait. When you see the garbage truck pull up, start to hoot and holler right along with your toddler. Trust me, these little kids' excitement is very contagious. It was so amazing this morning. We were able to witness the truck take its little dumpster in the front of the truck and dump it into the big part in the back of the truck!!
Finally, Step 5: Reset your garbage clock and wait. Don't worry, it only takes the garbage man a week to get back to you.
Signs that prove you are on your way to becoming the garbage man's biggest fans:
1) You drive all over town looking for the garbage truck on garbage day. Hey, a second sighting is worth the extra gas expense.
2) Your windows have nose prints all over them. And no, they aren't from your dog.
3) Hearing a loud truck makes your heart race, and you are sad when you see a regular, boring old dump truck or semi truck.
4) The main goal on your New Year's Resolution list is to meet the garbage man.
I know what you are thinking here... I don't know if I have what it takes to do this!! Stop second-guessing yourself. I have faith in you. Once you get the hang of it, you too will enjoy an unparalleled passion for garbage. Life might not smell sweeter, but it sure as heck will be more exciting.
Being the garbage man's biggest fans is a pretty involved task. In order to do this, you need a toddler (preferably right around age 2), a garbage man that comes by your house once a week, and some trash. Now here's what you do:
Step 1: Know what day the garbage man comes. My son Maximus knows that the garbage man comes on Wednesdays, so he asks me every day if today is Wednesday, and if so, is the garbage man coming. Here's how he says it: "When day garbage day? Garbage truck coming?" Tell your child not to worry. You have this under control.
Step 2: Drag a bunch of trash to your curb right before that day, so the garbage man is willing to get close to your surveillance sight. Like a carrot for the bunny, people. If your husband forgot to take out your trash, you better hop to it. This is a team effort!
Step 3: On the day that your garbage man comes, listen for tell-tale signs of his arrival. He drives a giant loud truck, which typically you can hear from a block or two (at least) away. This is very convenient, just in case you are in mid-diaper change and need time to wrap the kid up and scramble to a window. (Bonus alarm here: your child will also hear the garbage truck coming, and he will start to scream in excitement.)
Step 4: Race to the nearest window and wait. When you see the garbage truck pull up, start to hoot and holler right along with your toddler. Trust me, these little kids' excitement is very contagious. It was so amazing this morning. We were able to witness the truck take its little dumpster in the front of the truck and dump it into the big part in the back of the truck!!
Finally, Step 5: Reset your garbage clock and wait. Don't worry, it only takes the garbage man a week to get back to you.
Signs that prove you are on your way to becoming the garbage man's biggest fans:
1) You drive all over town looking for the garbage truck on garbage day. Hey, a second sighting is worth the extra gas expense.
2) Your windows have nose prints all over them. And no, they aren't from your dog.
3) Hearing a loud truck makes your heart race, and you are sad when you see a regular, boring old dump truck or semi truck.
4) The main goal on your New Year's Resolution list is to meet the garbage man.
I know what you are thinking here... I don't know if I have what it takes to do this!! Stop second-guessing yourself. I have faith in you. Once you get the hang of it, you too will enjoy an unparalleled passion for garbage. Life might not smell sweeter, but it sure as heck will be more exciting.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Crayola Marker
Oh Marker, how wonderful was once our love!
You arrived in crisp cardboard packages,
your presence lit up my children's faces.
Joy rang out and echoed across my kitchen
the day a swishing plastic store bag
swept you in my door.
Oh, Marker-
you decorated pages that brightened my walls,
covered my doors,
taped themselves to my refrigerator.
My 3 little artists clutched
your firm sides as they scribbled away,
and struggled
to replace your colorful Crayola caps.
They confided their biggest wishes
in your quiet squeaks on
rainbow construction paper.
Oh, Marker.
You were my friend too!
We have history, Marker.
I too clutched you tight and drew
my dreams before they came true.
You cast my love away though.
Now...
You sneak around my home
like a child who is supposedly
napping.
You leave bold footprints on
my floors, my furniture,
my comforters, my televisions,
my once crisp-white walls!
You even left classic blue streaks
on my dog.
Why, oh Marker?
Curse your betrayal!
Oh Marker, my old friend and my
new nemesis.
My tears are red, blue, green,
purple, yellow, orange, brown and black.
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| Crayola (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Oh, THAT'S Why I am an Only Child.
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| Cover via Amazon |
BACKSTORY
Blake is the oldest child in his family. He has one younger, wonderful sister that we get along with just fine. When they were kids they fought like siblings are reasonably supposed to, but they were friends.
I am an only child. According to Dr. Kevin Leman, author of The Birth Order Book, I am "the lonely only, super firstborn". I was the only kid my mom had to worry about. This also means I have ZERO experience with sibling rivalry and fights.
My husband and I make a very interesting, and sometimes intense, team. Blake and I saw Dr. Leman speak at a love seminar at our church a few years back. He was talking about the value of understanding birth order and its involvement in relationships. At one point, he asked the crowd if there were any couples in the room that were both firstborns. We were one of the only couples to raise our hands. He looked at us and asked, "Do you guys wear football helmets to the breakfast table?" We laughed, but it's true that our household can be very direct and ambitious, and always striving for something better (I won't say perfect, but...)
Today, we have three kids: two daughters and one son. The reason we stopped at three children and steered away from our dream of having four is because we realized we could only take three times the crazy in our home. Kudos to those of you with more! You possess a Godly gift Blake and I weren't blessed with.
Bring on the first kid! Swaylynn is nine. She is stepping into a blended family as my firstborn child and Blake's stepdaughter. Sway has all the characteristics of a firstborn child too. (Sweet, there's three of us in the house!) She reads deep into the night, will NOT be rushed when she's cleaning her room, and cries if the color palette she mixed isn't the right shade of cerulean. She gets along with the younger siblings this far.... and then she's had enough of their nonsense. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want a three year old tearing up my Star Wars Lego creations either. Or a baby chewing on my artwork.
Okay, here's the middle kid. Hailley is three, and possesses all the traits of a firstborn. (OMG...4??? Pray that she mellows out for us!) She is very bright, and she will tell you so. I've never encountered any individual who is so confident in herself the way our daughter is. She becomes upset when she messes up coloring between the lines, and she prides herself on dressing alone and matching her underwear with her shoes. Hailley loves Sway beyond the normal boundaries of sibling love. This means she drives her older sister NUTS. Ironically enough, the way Swaylynn feels about her is the same way Hailley feels about Maximus. The patience rope is short here, people.
Last comes the boy, roaring into our lives. Here is where Blake and I realized, NO MORE. Again, a shout out to the moms and dads with more than one boy in your home! Maximus is almost two, and pushing the very limits of his age bracket. Walking by ten months, running by twelve. Mastered climbing by 15 months and giving my husband and I constant mini heart attacks by 15 1/2 months. He acts like the youngest and lives to torture his older sisters. I placed his car seat in the middle of my Ford Fusion's backseat a few months ago. I thought, "Genius! He will break up the girls' fights." Yeah, right, Rachel. He had both of them wailing on every drive! "Mom!! He took my book!" "Mom! Maximus bit me!!"
Now that you have a bit of our background, allow me to set the stage. We are all together. We are eating dinner. Blake is always at the head of the table. I sit to his right, with Swaylynn to his left. Hailley sits next to me in her little booster seat, and Maximus sits next to Swaylynn in his little booster seat. You're thinking, "Aww... what a sweet family.." Stop. Save it for the Brady Bunch reruns later.
SCENE 6: DINNER AT THE VOGELS
(CENTER STAGE)
Blake: Swaylynn, is this the first time you have ever eaten corn? Use your fork, please.
Swaylynn: Hailley! Stop looking at me!
Hailley: Mom, Swaylynn told me to stop looking at her.
Me: Guys, mind your own business and eat your food please.
Maximus: EAT!
(He now gets out of his chair and goes to the sliding door to let the dog in.)
Blake: Maximus, get back in your seat. Maximus, sit down. MAXIMUS! SIT DOWN!
Swaylynn: Maximus! Get back in your chair!
Me: Swaylynn! Are you Maximus's mom?
Swaylynn: No.
Me: Then please let Blake and I do the parenting.
Hailley: Mom, Swaylynn is telling Maximus what to do...
Me: Hailley! Stop tattling!
Blake: Hailley! No one likes a tattle tale.
Me: Blake! One parent at a time, right?
(Previously agreed household rule)
Blake: Yeah, you're right. Sorry, sweetheart.
Swaylynn: Mom, Maximus is throwing his food on the floor, and Capone is eating it.
Me: Maximus! Don't feed the dog!
Maximus: PONE!
(This is how he calls our dog, Capone.)
Blake: Capone! Out!
(The dog exits to the side of the table furthest away from Blake)
Maximus: PONE! OUT!
(He always speaks at top volume.)
Hailley: Mom, he's still doing it...
Blake: HAILLEY! What did we just tell you about tattling?
Me: Can't we just have ONE MEAL without all this nonsense???
(BLACKOUT- EXIT SCENE)
And now I know why I am an only child. Mom, you're a genius.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Moms Are Just Like Everybody Else, See?
A mother's alarm clock: a baby crying in his crib.
A mother's breakfast: whatever the kids didn't eat, right off their plates. Oh, and lots of coffee.
A mother's morning workout: mopping the kitchen floor after milk breaks free from bowls of cereal and runs rampant across the floor. For an extra boost: she chases her toddler around the house trying to retrieve her cell phone.
A mother's shower time: running one brush through her hair, and another one over her teeth.
A mother's morning psychology practice: hostile negotiations between her 3 year old and the dog. (Most psychologists don't have to cuddle with their patients afterwards though.)
A mother's lunch: one slice of pizza that her youngest already ate the toppings from. Also, possibly more coffee.
A mother's downtime: sleeping face first in a pile of clean laundry while the children nap.
A mother's daily intelligent conversation: "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM! MOM! MOM!" "What?!?!?" "I love you."
A mother's paycheck: any loose change she finds floating around in the washer.
A mother's cleaning routine: she doesn't want to talk about that right now. But if you are lending an ear... She JUST picked up the living room! She swears! It just doesn't look like it because she lives with savages.
A mother's bills: she doesn't want to talk about that, either.
A mother's dinner: finally, a real meal. It might be slightly cold because she is the last one to eat, but that's okay.
A mother's rescheduled shower time: getting thoroughly soaked by the baby splashing in the tub.
A mother's nightly novel: Whales' Tails and Turtle Trails by Tammy Lee.
A mother's bed time: blankets that actually cover her whole body and one half page of a novel from the adult section at the library. She would love... to read... more... but...
A mother's breakfast: whatever the kids didn't eat, right off their plates. Oh, and lots of coffee.
A mother's morning workout: mopping the kitchen floor after milk breaks free from bowls of cereal and runs rampant across the floor. For an extra boost: she chases her toddler around the house trying to retrieve her cell phone.
A mother's shower time: running one brush through her hair, and another one over her teeth.
A mother's morning psychology practice: hostile negotiations between her 3 year old and the dog. (Most psychologists don't have to cuddle with their patients afterwards though.)
A mother's lunch: one slice of pizza that her youngest already ate the toppings from. Also, possibly more coffee.
A mother's downtime: sleeping face first in a pile of clean laundry while the children nap.
A mother's daily intelligent conversation: "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM! MOM! MOM!" "What?!?!?" "I love you."
A mother's paycheck: any loose change she finds floating around in the washer.
A mother's cleaning routine: she doesn't want to talk about that right now. But if you are lending an ear... She JUST picked up the living room! She swears! It just doesn't look like it because she lives with savages.
A mother's bills: she doesn't want to talk about that, either.
A mother's dinner: finally, a real meal. It might be slightly cold because she is the last one to eat, but that's okay.
A mother's rescheduled shower time: getting thoroughly soaked by the baby splashing in the tub.
A mother's nightly novel: Whales' Tails and Turtle Trails by Tammy Lee.
A mother's bed time: blankets that actually cover her whole body and one half page of a novel from the adult section at the library. She would love... to read... more... but...
Thursday, July 11, 2013
My Little Lawyer
Okay, not sure when our three year old daughter Hailley started studying law. Who is explaining the ins and outs of the American justice system to this kid? My husband and I briefly mentioned the importance of wearing seat belts in the car; I told Hailley it was the law that she had to be in her seat, buckled in, when she was complaining about her belt straps. Other than that though... no idea. Maybe she's catching 24 reruns on the sly? I hope not!
Hailley has taken it upon herself to inform me about "the law". Let me tell you, if her law was the REAL law, move over Hitler! I'd hate to be under her regime.
We put little dress panties over her underwear, underneath her dress. Here's Hailley's thoughts on the matter: "We put these over my underwear because its the law, Mom."
We are in a bathroom, again. "We wipe our butts and flush the toilet because its the LAW, Mom." I wouldn't really argue against that one.
We are wrestling Hailley into her pajamas at bedtime: "We go to bed because its the law, Mom."
She does it the same every time! The same matter-of-fact tone, the same serious little face, the same sentence structure. She is SO right, too. You try arguing with that sometime. In Hailley's world, everything has a law attached to it.
I tried to explain the difference between household rules and laws, morals and laws, and the difference between just acting like a lady and the law. I literally watched her little mind shut down before I could finish. Hailley was NOT having that conversation with me. She already knows the law! Why would silly old Mom possess any new, useful information for her?
Hopefully this obsession will lead her in a good direction. Hailley, you will have my back when I forget to pay a parking ticket, right?
Hailley has taken it upon herself to inform me about "the law". Let me tell you, if her law was the REAL law, move over Hitler! I'd hate to be under her regime.
We put little dress panties over her underwear, underneath her dress. Here's Hailley's thoughts on the matter: "We put these over my underwear because its the law, Mom."
We are in a bathroom, again. "We wipe our butts and flush the toilet because its the LAW, Mom." I wouldn't really argue against that one.
We are wrestling Hailley into her pajamas at bedtime: "We go to bed because its the law, Mom."
She does it the same every time! The same matter-of-fact tone, the same serious little face, the same sentence structure. She is SO right, too. You try arguing with that sometime. In Hailley's world, everything has a law attached to it.
I tried to explain the difference between household rules and laws, morals and laws, and the difference between just acting like a lady and the law. I literally watched her little mind shut down before I could finish. Hailley was NOT having that conversation with me. She already knows the law! Why would silly old Mom possess any new, useful information for her?
Hopefully this obsession will lead her in a good direction. Hailley, you will have my back when I forget to pay a parking ticket, right?
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
We Went to the Beach
Oh yeah. I finally made it to the beach this summer! What a wonderful day. Of course, in order for me and my family to function at any event, we have to bring in the playpens, corrals, diaper bags, proper clothing, food, sippy cups, etc. Add beach toys, towels, lawn chairs and a wagon to beach day.
My mom and our family friend beat me there (that's no surprise, they have a lot less gear!) and had a beautiful spot picked out. I arrived by the picnic table with our wagon loaded up like we were pioneer settlers truckin' out west. Behind me toddled Maximus, our little ray of sunshine, and Hailley, who whimpered and whined all the way from the parking lot down the long hill to our spot. Leave it to a 3 year old to be upset about being out by a lake in the sunshine. Swaylynn, our 9 year old, had already beat us to the water.
After a few threats: "I can find a corner anywhere for you to stand in, Hailley," we made ourselves at home and enjoyed our day. The kids were all great. They didn't fight once! We spent hours there playing in the water (Swaylynn put seaweed on Hailley's head), exploring nature (Sway found a baby dragonfly- it was so cool!) and building towers in the sand. Maximus was furious because I put his corral, with him in it, right down on the sand by the water. I may have gotten a few looks from the other parents there, but hey, that boy thinks he can swim (he can't!) and I needed my heart to stop pounding after 20 minutes of chasing him around in the shallow water.
We ended our day with a long walk by the lake. I can't begin to express how fantastic the scenery was! God is good. :)
On the way home I put on Neil Diamond's best hits, my secret weapon. The kids barely made it out of the state park before they were passed out- their sandy faces slouched against their car seats. Oh yeah.
My mom and our family friend beat me there (that's no surprise, they have a lot less gear!) and had a beautiful spot picked out. I arrived by the picnic table with our wagon loaded up like we were pioneer settlers truckin' out west. Behind me toddled Maximus, our little ray of sunshine, and Hailley, who whimpered and whined all the way from the parking lot down the long hill to our spot. Leave it to a 3 year old to be upset about being out by a lake in the sunshine. Swaylynn, our 9 year old, had already beat us to the water.
After a few threats: "I can find a corner anywhere for you to stand in, Hailley," we made ourselves at home and enjoyed our day. The kids were all great. They didn't fight once! We spent hours there playing in the water (Swaylynn put seaweed on Hailley's head), exploring nature (Sway found a baby dragonfly- it was so cool!) and building towers in the sand. Maximus was furious because I put his corral, with him in it, right down on the sand by the water. I may have gotten a few looks from the other parents there, but hey, that boy thinks he can swim (he can't!) and I needed my heart to stop pounding after 20 minutes of chasing him around in the shallow water.
We ended our day with a long walk by the lake. I can't begin to express how fantastic the scenery was! God is good. :)
On the way home I put on Neil Diamond's best hits, my secret weapon. The kids barely made it out of the state park before they were passed out- their sandy faces slouched against their car seats. Oh yeah.
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