It has been awhile my friends! So, a quick update before the "Big Day".
We learned last fall that Sean's company had been sold and his job would eventually dissolve, so we've been going back and forth about moving farther away or going back to the Mitten...the mitten is winning which is bothersome to me because I won't get to finish school here in Indiana.
We also learned last fall that our oldest, Hooligan A, has a rare disease called juvenile dermatomyositis. The skinny on that is that her condition is getting better. A few of her liver enzymes aren't cooperating, but everything is looking good. She is responding to her treatment well and so hopefully within a few months we'll be backing off some of her daily meds. Victory is hers!!!
SOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Onto the "Big Day"!
Most of you know that tomorrow is Hooligan A's first day of KINDERGARTEN!!! She is going to a private catholic school (I am paranoid about the relentless teasing in a public school because of her constant sunblock applying and hat wearing. Those Nuns will set teasers straight!), and she couldn't be more excited about getting to wear a skirt EVERYDAY and dressy shoes.
Mommy is excited for her to learn to read. We have been trying to teach her all summer, but she likes to pretend she "can't remember" or that it's "too hard" so we let her play on starfall.com (wonderful site, btw) and read to her and her cohorts at bedtime. It is going to be a big exciting year! Learning to read, writting better, and a bunch of time away from away from her brother and sister.
That's all I have today, I am a little busy preparing a back to school snack! I promise to write again soon instead of in a couple of months!
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Just Call me Ellen...
Hello, My name is Beth, but you may as well call me Ellen...Ellen Griswold. My husband Sean will respond to Clark. We are a modern day Clark and Ellen Griswold!
No, we don't tie dead family members to the roof of our roadster (we have a mini van, still no dead relatives), and we don't drive cross country with our kids to go to a theme park (Sandusky, OH isn't that far away), no we are more the Christmas vacation kind of Griswolds. We have tree issues and rants that need tylenol for resolution, and exterior illumination is dangerous and expensive. Sean has been hesistant for years to admit the similairies, but tonight, tonight he came to see the light (giggle).
Last year we had a tree that was too tall. As we stood back staring at the tree, I slowly leaned over and said "Clark, do you think there's enough room for the angel on top?", Sean did not see the humor. While driving back from a trip to MI, Sean had some serious road rage issues, I said "Alright Clark, what are you going to do next? Drive us under a truck?!", this time the humor was not lost. At Thanksgiving we had a turkey in opposite Griswold fashion, looked beautiful outside, but was frozen inside. Before the first guests arrived, Sean said he was cancelling Christmas and all holidays next year if the kids didn't learn to get out of the kitchen (immediatley followed by 4 motrins).
Now, if the previous tales haven't told you how much we seem to follow the calamity of the Griswolds, then tonights story ought to bring you around.
Tonight, I finally got to help set up the outside Christmas lights with Clark...I mean Sean! We had everything up, lights lining the porch, small decorated trees and candy canes. Sean asked me to come out and help him hang the $5 wreath that we bought at a garage sale this summer. We're talking a wreath that you hang on the house, ginormous, green, beautiful wreath. Anyway! I go out to to help him, and he has his ladder on the porch ready to climb. As I walk out onto the grass, I hear a loud woosh and I look and see Clark, I mean Sean, sitting on the porch bench, holding onto the ladder. I stop for a moment to ask if he is ok. He responds, "yeah, just having a seat", and he says it with a cheeky grin on his face. Then I get it, the light bulb is on! He seriously had just slid down his ladder and fell backwards!!!!! Granted he did not slide as nearly as far as Clark Griswold did, but I swear to you it did not make it any less funny to see. He had forgotten to lock the extension part of it after we decided the roof was to dangerous to climb on and hang the wreath at the peak. Oh my gosh, I wish I had it on video, so freaking hilarious. I think I have to sleep on the couch tonight for the amount of laughing I did and the amount of "I hate you right now" that I heard as he climbed back up and tied the wreath down while blushing and trying not to giggle.
Just call me Ellen.
PS. This year we have a fake tree. Didn't want to press our luck with having three straight years without a squirrel infestation.
No, we don't tie dead family members to the roof of our roadster (we have a mini van, still no dead relatives), and we don't drive cross country with our kids to go to a theme park (Sandusky, OH isn't that far away), no we are more the Christmas vacation kind of Griswolds. We have tree issues and rants that need tylenol for resolution, and exterior illumination is dangerous and expensive. Sean has been hesistant for years to admit the similairies, but tonight, tonight he came to see the light (giggle).
Last year we had a tree that was too tall. As we stood back staring at the tree, I slowly leaned over and said "Clark, do you think there's enough room for the angel on top?", Sean did not see the humor. While driving back from a trip to MI, Sean had some serious road rage issues, I said "Alright Clark, what are you going to do next? Drive us under a truck?!", this time the humor was not lost. At Thanksgiving we had a turkey in opposite Griswold fashion, looked beautiful outside, but was frozen inside. Before the first guests arrived, Sean said he was cancelling Christmas and all holidays next year if the kids didn't learn to get out of the kitchen (immediatley followed by 4 motrins).
Now, if the previous tales haven't told you how much we seem to follow the calamity of the Griswolds, then tonights story ought to bring you around.
Tonight, I finally got to help set up the outside Christmas lights with Clark...I mean Sean! We had everything up, lights lining the porch, small decorated trees and candy canes. Sean asked me to come out and help him hang the $5 wreath that we bought at a garage sale this summer. We're talking a wreath that you hang on the house, ginormous, green, beautiful wreath. Anyway! I go out to to help him, and he has his ladder on the porch ready to climb. As I walk out onto the grass, I hear a loud woosh and I look and see Clark, I mean Sean, sitting on the porch bench, holding onto the ladder. I stop for a moment to ask if he is ok. He responds, "yeah, just having a seat", and he says it with a cheeky grin on his face. Then I get it, the light bulb is on! He seriously had just slid down his ladder and fell backwards!!!!! Granted he did not slide as nearly as far as Clark Griswold did, but I swear to you it did not make it any less funny to see. He had forgotten to lock the extension part of it after we decided the roof was to dangerous to climb on and hang the wreath at the peak. Oh my gosh, I wish I had it on video, so freaking hilarious. I think I have to sleep on the couch tonight for the amount of laughing I did and the amount of "I hate you right now" that I heard as he climbed back up and tied the wreath down while blushing and trying not to giggle.
Just call me Ellen.
PS. This year we have a fake tree. Didn't want to press our luck with having three straight years without a squirrel infestation.
Monday, November 12, 2012
The last few months
It has been months since I have made a post. Not every story I have to share is funny, sometimes it is just sad or disheartening.
Hooligan A has been diagnosed with Dermatomyisitis. Big word, scary meaning. Basically her immune system has been going non stop fighting an illness that is not there. Adding to her auto immune disease, it has an underlying portion of vasculitis. Her muscles aren't getting enough oxygen and blood flow, so slowly but surely her muscles have been getting weaker and weaker.
In June, her knees developed a red, ever present rash. It didn't go away. Resembeling rug burn, I asked almost daily if her knees hurt or were itchy. She always replies no. I even took her into see her pediatrician. She shared in Hooligan A's thought of it was nothing to worry about. By early August, her hands and feet had the same red rash and tiny white bumps, concerned we took her back in. Hooligan A said nothing hurt still, so we were advised it looked like juvenile arthritis but since she wasn't complaining of pain she refered us to a dermotoligist. By mid September she could no longer get up and down the stairs without help. She would tell that her knees wouldn't "blend" and that she needed help getting down to and off the floor. Back to the pediatrician we went.
This time she asked us to go and see a pediatric rheumatologist in Indianapolis. We had her blood drawn and x-rays taken before her November 19th appointment. By October 25th, the rheumotologist office called and said they were concerned and needed to see her as soon as possible. Our appointment was moved up to the following Monday and we spent an agonizing weekend wondering what was so wrong with our baby.
As soon as the rheumatologist walked into the room she said "You must really be hurting. The good news is, I know what this is and i know how to fix it!". I can not tell you how releiving that statement was, and yet how terrifying to consider what "fixing it" could mean. It means that Hooligan A is the bravest little stinker I know. At 5 years old she has never really been sick. Never needed "pokes" except for immunizations and routine blood tests. Now, she goes through an IV infusion every week and her dad gives her an injection at home once a week too. She takes oral prednisone every morning and swallows it in applesauce like a champ.
I realize that she can live with this. At night I will still have my baby to hold. It doesn't however stop me from crying because she has to go through this. Or that for months I thought she was being whiny because she wanted attention, not because she was frusterated with her unexplainable loss of ability to do all the things she used to be able to do. All the online reports tell of how agonizing this is for kids. How painful it is for them...and of course how it can be fatal if left untreated. Thirty years ago this very well could have been a life ending diagnosis. Thankfully she has an excellent prognosis and we are very blessed to have found it early enough that it didn't get any farther. By all accounts, once we get this in remission she might never experience this again. But watching my baby cry and ask "ow ow are you done yet? stop it" once a week is just heartbreaking. I cry with her and try not to look as sad as I feel.
Does anyone out there have any notes of wisdom? Or encouraging mantras that have helped them through tuff business such as this?
Hooligan A has been diagnosed with Dermatomyisitis. Big word, scary meaning. Basically her immune system has been going non stop fighting an illness that is not there. Adding to her auto immune disease, it has an underlying portion of vasculitis. Her muscles aren't getting enough oxygen and blood flow, so slowly but surely her muscles have been getting weaker and weaker.
In June, her knees developed a red, ever present rash. It didn't go away. Resembeling rug burn, I asked almost daily if her knees hurt or were itchy. She always replies no. I even took her into see her pediatrician. She shared in Hooligan A's thought of it was nothing to worry about. By early August, her hands and feet had the same red rash and tiny white bumps, concerned we took her back in. Hooligan A said nothing hurt still, so we were advised it looked like juvenile arthritis but since she wasn't complaining of pain she refered us to a dermotoligist. By mid September she could no longer get up and down the stairs without help. She would tell that her knees wouldn't "blend" and that she needed help getting down to and off the floor. Back to the pediatrician we went.
This time she asked us to go and see a pediatric rheumatologist in Indianapolis. We had her blood drawn and x-rays taken before her November 19th appointment. By October 25th, the rheumotologist office called and said they were concerned and needed to see her as soon as possible. Our appointment was moved up to the following Monday and we spent an agonizing weekend wondering what was so wrong with our baby.
As soon as the rheumatologist walked into the room she said "You must really be hurting. The good news is, I know what this is and i know how to fix it!". I can not tell you how releiving that statement was, and yet how terrifying to consider what "fixing it" could mean. It means that Hooligan A is the bravest little stinker I know. At 5 years old she has never really been sick. Never needed "pokes" except for immunizations and routine blood tests. Now, she goes through an IV infusion every week and her dad gives her an injection at home once a week too. She takes oral prednisone every morning and swallows it in applesauce like a champ.
I realize that she can live with this. At night I will still have my baby to hold. It doesn't however stop me from crying because she has to go through this. Or that for months I thought she was being whiny because she wanted attention, not because she was frusterated with her unexplainable loss of ability to do all the things she used to be able to do. All the online reports tell of how agonizing this is for kids. How painful it is for them...and of course how it can be fatal if left untreated. Thirty years ago this very well could have been a life ending diagnosis. Thankfully she has an excellent prognosis and we are very blessed to have found it early enough that it didn't get any farther. By all accounts, once we get this in remission she might never experience this again. But watching my baby cry and ask "ow ow are you done yet? stop it" once a week is just heartbreaking. I cry with her and try not to look as sad as I feel.
Does anyone out there have any notes of wisdom? Or encouraging mantras that have helped them through tuff business such as this?
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Why H.B. will never paint.
Even though H.B. is my tough little boy, he also happens to be the whimpy kid when it comes to touching things. Jello is not a food he will eat, so you can imagine all the fun things that are out because of texture.
This 4th holiday the Hubs and I decided to paint out living room (after two years), since we just signed a 2 yr lease and know that we are staying here until I finish college and we are ready to purchase our dream home. We painted half of the living room on the 4th and finished the rest yesterday. Here is the break down of my whimpy kid's helping.
Please note: all conversations from H.B. are typed as he would say it...
"Dare go Mommy!" (painting my already painted way with a sponge brush..)
"Thank You dude."
"Dare go Mommy! (dropping paint filled brush on carpet) Ucky, ucky,ucky" (has paint fingers and it's freaking him out)
"Dammit H.B.! (angrily climbing off of my chair) How am I going to get paint out of carpet?!?! (baby wipes, not kidding) Let me get a baby wipe (wiping his hands clean)"
"Dank ooo Mommy!"
"You're Welcome H.B."
As he walks off, he walks into the wall, painting his entire right arm in Lindhurst Timber...
"Moooooommmmy! Uuuuuucckkkyyyyyyy!"
"What the hell dude! Didn't you figure that out a second ago that the wall was still wet?!?!?!"
"Ucky Mommy"
"Let me get a baby wipe...(wiping him clean)"
"Dank oo Mommy"
"You're welcome H.B., try to stay away from the walls ok?"
"Ok Mommy"
Walking up to paint tray, H.B. bravely and stupidly sticks his fingers into the wet paint...
"(loud screams and lots of crying)"
"OMG! What's the matter? Are you ok?"
"Uuuuuuuuuckyyyyyyyyyy (sobbing)"
--this is where I lose my shit, so imagine lots of cursing and yelling--
"Jesus! What is it going to take for you to leave the damn paint alone!?!?! You don't like it, stay the F out of it!!!! --deep breath-- Come here, I'll get the baby wipes. (wiping at the paint) Look, I give you points for trying repeatedly, but sometimes ya just gotta it give up. you don't like the feel of it, probably never will"
"Ok Mommy. (Giving me a hug, either for soothing purposes, because paint is tramatizing, or for thanks)"
A little while later...
"(Screaming)"
"What is it now!"
--Sean: "He stuck his hand in the wall, I can't see where,but his hand is painted."
"Really H.B.? Grrr Kid, just grr."
I have to cut him some slack, because he's only 2 and 1/2, but come on, after the second painting freak out, you would think he would have let that idea go....
This 4th holiday the Hubs and I decided to paint out living room (after two years), since we just signed a 2 yr lease and know that we are staying here until I finish college and we are ready to purchase our dream home. We painted half of the living room on the 4th and finished the rest yesterday. Here is the break down of my whimpy kid's helping.
Please note: all conversations from H.B. are typed as he would say it...
"Dare go Mommy!" (painting my already painted way with a sponge brush..)
"Thank You dude."
"Dare go Mommy! (dropping paint filled brush on carpet) Ucky, ucky,ucky" (has paint fingers and it's freaking him out)
"Dammit H.B.! (angrily climbing off of my chair) How am I going to get paint out of carpet?!?! (baby wipes, not kidding) Let me get a baby wipe (wiping his hands clean)"
"Dank ooo Mommy!"
"You're Welcome H.B."
As he walks off, he walks into the wall, painting his entire right arm in Lindhurst Timber...
"Moooooommmmy! Uuuuuucckkkyyyyyyy!"
"What the hell dude! Didn't you figure that out a second ago that the wall was still wet?!?!?!"
"Ucky Mommy"
"Let me get a baby wipe...(wiping him clean)"
"Dank oo Mommy"
"You're welcome H.B., try to stay away from the walls ok?"
"Ok Mommy"
Walking up to paint tray, H.B. bravely and stupidly sticks his fingers into the wet paint...
"(loud screams and lots of crying)"
"OMG! What's the matter? Are you ok?"
"Uuuuuuuuuckyyyyyyyyyy (sobbing)"
--this is where I lose my shit, so imagine lots of cursing and yelling--
"Jesus! What is it going to take for you to leave the damn paint alone!?!?! You don't like it, stay the F out of it!!!! --deep breath-- Come here, I'll get the baby wipes. (wiping at the paint) Look, I give you points for trying repeatedly, but sometimes ya just gotta it give up. you don't like the feel of it, probably never will"
"Ok Mommy. (Giving me a hug, either for soothing purposes, because paint is tramatizing, or for thanks)"
A little while later...
"(Screaming)"
"What is it now!"
--Sean: "He stuck his hand in the wall, I can't see where,but his hand is painted."
"Really H.B.? Grrr Kid, just grr."
I have to cut him some slack, because he's only 2 and 1/2, but come on, after the second painting freak out, you would think he would have let that idea go....
Thursday, June 28, 2012
I Love the Sprinkler
It's HOT!
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the heat, just the humidity. So, as we reach the high point of the summer, and the sweltering heat makes you feel like you can't breath there is only one thing to do....
BUST OUT THE SPRINKLER!
This afternoon, after everyone had a nap, I turned on the hose and suited up myself and the kids. We braved the immense heat while I sunblocked everyone and then...the sprinkler was attached to the hose. This was always met with delight and anticipation in my childhood, my kids however, greeted the hose like this...
"Mommy, I don't want to get sprayed, I just want to get wet!"
"No Mommy, no spinkla, nooooooo"
H.C. "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"
I stood in just the zone of the sprinkler so only the drips would get me, I stood where I was in direct line of spray, I stood off to the side, and not one of them joined me. Finally, fearing I was getting funny looks from other adults in the neighborhood, I grabbed H.C. and ran through the sprinkler with her "Whaaaaaaaaa"ing all the way. Soon there after, H.B. comes running through, squawking the whole way. H.A. is still unconvinced that she won't melt if she runs through. I try telling her I'll run through with her. I try telling her if she would just run through once she will enjoy it. Nothing works. So when in doubt, grab child and run through holding her.
I grab H.A. I start running, she's screaming "Stop Mommy, Stop!" we get about two inches into the water.."It's too cold Mommy!". We get all the way through, I set her down. She looks at the sprinkler, then up at me, then says "Let's do it again" EXCUSE ME?!?!?!?!
"I thought you didn't want to get wet?"
"That was before, now I want you to carry me through the water again."
"H.A. hunnie, it is too hot for Mommy to carry you all the time, maybe we can hold hands and run through together?"
"No, I want you to carry me"
"H.A., I am not going to carry you. Now, you can hold my hand and run through with Mommy, or you can go it solo. Pick one!"
"I'll hold your hand"
Off we go! How fun it is! Look what I can do's were flying around and she showed off her sprinkler jumping skills, her stand still and get sprayed skills and of course her dodging the sprinkler skills. After about an hour I say "Let's go inside guys and have some push pops and dry off in the A/C"
"Nooooooooooo Mooooooommmmmmyyyyyyy! I love the sprinkler"
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Proper Attire Part 2
As we enter the warm summer months I feel compelled to remind people of what is appropriate attire and what is not.
First of all let's revisit the shelf bra cami issue. Once again I will remind you that just because it says shelf bra...it DOES NOT mean that you can go bra less. Please read the first Appropriate Attire blog to see the rules on this issue.
Chode Shorts...it wasn't until I was a freshman in college that I learned the word chode. There is a funny story behind it, but all you need to know is if your shorts are wider than they are long...they are not ment for you to wear!!! Some girls can pull this off without looking nasty, but so few of them know when they fall on the wrong side of this rule that I'm outlawing it for everyone!!!
Crop tops are ment for hookers and strippers. This little fashion statement is over, so stop showing your mid section and your belly button ring and be classy NOT trashy and buy a long and lean boyfriend tank. $8 at Target, it's probably cheaper than your crop top anyway...
Bikinis... if you can pinch an inch of fat..not skin and it hurts to pinch it because you're actually pinching your vital organs...but honest to goodness fat, and it rolls over the top of your bikini bottom...DO NOT WEAR IT!!! Buy a tankini..or a one piece. Some people are so ballsy when it comes to their body that sometimes I envy their courage and self esteem to go out in public like that, but then I remember that they look like crap and I'm glad I know how to dress appropriately for my size.
If your shorts are riding up into your crotch, for the LOVE OF GXD.... just pull the damn inseam back down!!! Do not continue to walk around like your wearing jean underwear!!! It makes you look so trashy, you might as well wear your real undies out to walmart because you're not doing any better by leaving your inseam (little as it maybe) riding up your coochie! Plus, if you followed the chode short rule, this wouldn't be happening, at least not on this grand of a scale.
Guys...a wife beater and shorts sagging so low they might as well be pants... you're dating braless cami girl wearing her chode shorts into her crotch aren't you? Stop it!!! It is not sexy in any way. In fact, I want to pants you, just to show you how stupid you look! That or to fashion you a belt out of zip ties (hope you don't have to go #2 before you get home).
Most of all, LESS IS NOT MORE!!! You are actually just wearing less and looking rather trampy.
First of all let's revisit the shelf bra cami issue. Once again I will remind you that just because it says shelf bra...it DOES NOT mean that you can go bra less. Please read the first Appropriate Attire blog to see the rules on this issue.
Chode Shorts...it wasn't until I was a freshman in college that I learned the word chode. There is a funny story behind it, but all you need to know is if your shorts are wider than they are long...they are not ment for you to wear!!! Some girls can pull this off without looking nasty, but so few of them know when they fall on the wrong side of this rule that I'm outlawing it for everyone!!!
Crop tops are ment for hookers and strippers. This little fashion statement is over, so stop showing your mid section and your belly button ring and be classy NOT trashy and buy a long and lean boyfriend tank. $8 at Target, it's probably cheaper than your crop top anyway...
Bikinis... if you can pinch an inch of fat..not skin and it hurts to pinch it because you're actually pinching your vital organs...but honest to goodness fat, and it rolls over the top of your bikini bottom...DO NOT WEAR IT!!! Buy a tankini..or a one piece. Some people are so ballsy when it comes to their body that sometimes I envy their courage and self esteem to go out in public like that, but then I remember that they look like crap and I'm glad I know how to dress appropriately for my size.
If your shorts are riding up into your crotch, for the LOVE OF GXD.... just pull the damn inseam back down!!! Do not continue to walk around like your wearing jean underwear!!! It makes you look so trashy, you might as well wear your real undies out to walmart because you're not doing any better by leaving your inseam (little as it maybe) riding up your coochie! Plus, if you followed the chode short rule, this wouldn't be happening, at least not on this grand of a scale.
Guys...a wife beater and shorts sagging so low they might as well be pants... you're dating braless cami girl wearing her chode shorts into her crotch aren't you? Stop it!!! It is not sexy in any way. In fact, I want to pants you, just to show you how stupid you look! That or to fashion you a belt out of zip ties (hope you don't have to go #2 before you get home).
Most of all, LESS IS NOT MORE!!! You are actually just wearing less and looking rather trampy.
Why I need a babysitter
Today is Saturday. It is supposed to be my day to sleep in, and that didn't happen. After several failed attempts to nap, I give up and ask the Hubs if we could go into Lowe's and buy some spackle and a putty knife so we can fill in some holes left from baby gate hardware and perhaps so we can buy a few of those little paint samples and test out some colors for our living room.
Getting the kids around is always a chore, H.A. always whines, H.B. always runs around the house screaming in a very high, ear shattering decible and H.C. is always, always sitting right where you need to be going. So, after getting everyone around and in the car, we finally get to the store and hear nothing but whinning and asking when we are going to go home and get pizza for dinner. We get our paint samples and we get our putty knife and we order the pizza as we are leaving the store.
More non stop whinning all the way to the pizza place. More non stop whinning while we wait for daddy to pick the pizza up. Daddy returns to the car, only to hear me speaking in hushed "scary mommy" tone -- "if you both don't knock it off right now I am going to leave you outside the pizza place and hope a nice family takes you home" (of course I would never leave my lovies, but the threat is enough to momentarily stop the arguing).
About half way home they go completely silent.... and I have to look because I'm worried one of them has found a way to jedi mind choke the other one. Nope, they are all asleep! All three of them are fast asleep in the back seat. We get home, H.B. goes straight to bed, H.A. comes in and goes back to sleep on the couch and H.C. wakes up and enjoys pizza with the rest of us. However fun this might seem, H.C. is a very curious toddler and is into everything. Those little holes we wanted to fill in will have to wait because she will be into the spackle like nobody's business.
This is why I need a regular, trustworthy babysitter. If I had a sitter I could have them stay at home and leisurely stroll through the paint isle at Lowe's. I could go to a nice restaurant for dinner with the Hubs instead of picking up pizza and coming home to eat. I could go and see a movie in the theaters instead of waiting for everything to come out on blu ray. In short, I am annoyed that I have lived here for two years and still don't have someone I can call to watch my kids, at my house, late into the night like I used to when I was younger. I have to drive the kids to my fabulous mother in law, who watches them for free, but then I feel rushed. Like I need to hurry up and pick them up so I don't keep her up late or infringe upon her generosity. And, she isn't always available because she has many other family requirements on her time and if she does have a weekend night to relax, I don't want to ask her to watch them because she deserves to relax too.
I need a babysitter so I can have a relaxing night out.
Getting the kids around is always a chore, H.A. always whines, H.B. always runs around the house screaming in a very high, ear shattering decible and H.C. is always, always sitting right where you need to be going. So, after getting everyone around and in the car, we finally get to the store and hear nothing but whinning and asking when we are going to go home and get pizza for dinner. We get our paint samples and we get our putty knife and we order the pizza as we are leaving the store.
More non stop whinning all the way to the pizza place. More non stop whinning while we wait for daddy to pick the pizza up. Daddy returns to the car, only to hear me speaking in hushed "scary mommy" tone -- "if you both don't knock it off right now I am going to leave you outside the pizza place and hope a nice family takes you home" (of course I would never leave my lovies, but the threat is enough to momentarily stop the arguing).
About half way home they go completely silent.... and I have to look because I'm worried one of them has found a way to jedi mind choke the other one. Nope, they are all asleep! All three of them are fast asleep in the back seat. We get home, H.B. goes straight to bed, H.A. comes in and goes back to sleep on the couch and H.C. wakes up and enjoys pizza with the rest of us. However fun this might seem, H.C. is a very curious toddler and is into everything. Those little holes we wanted to fill in will have to wait because she will be into the spackle like nobody's business.
This is why I need a regular, trustworthy babysitter. If I had a sitter I could have them stay at home and leisurely stroll through the paint isle at Lowe's. I could go to a nice restaurant for dinner with the Hubs instead of picking up pizza and coming home to eat. I could go and see a movie in the theaters instead of waiting for everything to come out on blu ray. In short, I am annoyed that I have lived here for two years and still don't have someone I can call to watch my kids, at my house, late into the night like I used to when I was younger. I have to drive the kids to my fabulous mother in law, who watches them for free, but then I feel rushed. Like I need to hurry up and pick them up so I don't keep her up late or infringe upon her generosity. And, she isn't always available because she has many other family requirements on her time and if she does have a weekend night to relax, I don't want to ask her to watch them because she deserves to relax too.
I need a babysitter so I can have a relaxing night out.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Mergatroid
In the world of parenting there is a nasty award each parent gives themselves: Horrible Parent Award.
I'll take my award now please. No need to wait until December and take an official vote, I'll just take my crappy mom award now and call it a day.
After previously explaining my love of the Griswolds, let me explain that I envision every road trip as an epic fail of the National Lampoon's Vacation viariety. I always seem to forget/lose something of value, one person is either so in trouble or mad they might as well be poor Aunt Edna, dead and strapped to the roof, with the amount of talking we are NOT doing. And when we finally get to our vacation destination, there is always some unimaginable setback that threatens the good time to be had by all. Be it a brother in law you can't seem to get along with sitting next to your front-row-balcony terrified kid and he is only holding onto his extremely brave rail leaning kid, making you annoyed and terrified for your child... OR the celebratory fireworks that are launched well past your child's bedtime, waking them up after a now four hour "nap" and the kid is now WIDE awake causing you to be awake as well.
Nothing compares to the forgotten beloved toy. This weekend is was the youngest's turn to experience my crappy mommyness. Ever since she was three months old, Hooligan C has slept with a giraffe that makes noise to help sooth her to sleep, and of course I forgot one of the two we own. Of course in true Griswold fashion I did not notice my horrible mistake until it was bed time and H.C was overly stressed without Dane Giraffe or Gerry Giraffe. The Hubs and I, knowing we have to go to my mothership, Target, anyway decide that we might as well invest in another giraffe since Dane's voice box has been broken for months and Gerry's voice box is going on the fritz (sticky fingers have gunked up the works). We walk into Target and have a hard time locating the Giraffes, and when we finally find them, there is only one left in the "on the Go" size, we quickly grab it, giving a large sigh of relief! I do notice that there is a larger size giraffe and momentarily consider buying the larger one to make up for forgetting Dane and Gerry.
We rush back to my mom's house, open the new giraffe, put it's voice box in the back press the buttons and.....nothing. Batteries must be dead! We frantically search the house for batteries in the right size and that are still good. Finding some we quickly swap out the old for the new, press the button and......nothing. FUCK! Ok, don't panic...we'll just let her hold this giraffe tonight and maybe by tomorrow there will be more smaller giraffes in the morning shipment and we can replace it.
We go back to Target in the afternoon, I return broken giraffe and we walk back to the giraffe isle. Having small panic attacks the whole way that there won't be any giraffes, big or small, I turn the corner and there is one, large giraffe left. I pick him up, press the button and......nothing!!!! WTF! Really Target??? You are going to give me that extra punch in the face for forgetting the damn giraffe once in 17 months???? Not only do you not have a small giraffe, but you can't even have a working, large giraffe????? I turn the knob for volume to off and then back on, press the button and......boom boom croak, boom boom croak (closest way to spell the sounds, it's nature sounds so use your imagination)!!! The Hallelujah chorus starts playing in my head, a giraffe that works! He's huge compared to Dane and Gerry, but he works. H.C. instantly smiles and reaches for him and you can see the stress melt off of her face. We purchase the giraffe and get him out of the box to the delight of H.C. and she cuddles his neck and promptly takes a nap.
Welcome to the herd Mergatroid. (Thank You GAP1 for the $5 word of a name that H.A. can't even say, let alone H.B. and H.C. so we just call him Merg for short.)
I'll take my award now please. No need to wait until December and take an official vote, I'll just take my crappy mom award now and call it a day.
After previously explaining my love of the Griswolds, let me explain that I envision every road trip as an epic fail of the National Lampoon's Vacation viariety. I always seem to forget/lose something of value, one person is either so in trouble or mad they might as well be poor Aunt Edna, dead and strapped to the roof, with the amount of talking we are NOT doing. And when we finally get to our vacation destination, there is always some unimaginable setback that threatens the good time to be had by all. Be it a brother in law you can't seem to get along with sitting next to your front-row-balcony terrified kid and he is only holding onto his extremely brave rail leaning kid, making you annoyed and terrified for your child... OR the celebratory fireworks that are launched well past your child's bedtime, waking them up after a now four hour "nap" and the kid is now WIDE awake causing you to be awake as well.
Nothing compares to the forgotten beloved toy. This weekend is was the youngest's turn to experience my crappy mommyness. Ever since she was three months old, Hooligan C has slept with a giraffe that makes noise to help sooth her to sleep, and of course I forgot one of the two we own. Of course in true Griswold fashion I did not notice my horrible mistake until it was bed time and H.C was overly stressed without Dane Giraffe or Gerry Giraffe. The Hubs and I, knowing we have to go to my mothership, Target, anyway decide that we might as well invest in another giraffe since Dane's voice box has been broken for months and Gerry's voice box is going on the fritz (sticky fingers have gunked up the works). We walk into Target and have a hard time locating the Giraffes, and when we finally find them, there is only one left in the "on the Go" size, we quickly grab it, giving a large sigh of relief! I do notice that there is a larger size giraffe and momentarily consider buying the larger one to make up for forgetting Dane and Gerry.
We rush back to my mom's house, open the new giraffe, put it's voice box in the back press the buttons and.....nothing. Batteries must be dead! We frantically search the house for batteries in the right size and that are still good. Finding some we quickly swap out the old for the new, press the button and......nothing. FUCK! Ok, don't panic...we'll just let her hold this giraffe tonight and maybe by tomorrow there will be more smaller giraffes in the morning shipment and we can replace it.
We go back to Target in the afternoon, I return broken giraffe and we walk back to the giraffe isle. Having small panic attacks the whole way that there won't be any giraffes, big or small, I turn the corner and there is one, large giraffe left. I pick him up, press the button and......nothing!!!! WTF! Really Target??? You are going to give me that extra punch in the face for forgetting the damn giraffe once in 17 months???? Not only do you not have a small giraffe, but you can't even have a working, large giraffe????? I turn the knob for volume to off and then back on, press the button and......boom boom croak, boom boom croak (closest way to spell the sounds, it's nature sounds so use your imagination)!!! The Hallelujah chorus starts playing in my head, a giraffe that works! He's huge compared to Dane and Gerry, but he works. H.C. instantly smiles and reaches for him and you can see the stress melt off of her face. We purchase the giraffe and get him out of the box to the delight of H.C. and she cuddles his neck and promptly takes a nap.
Welcome to the herd Mergatroid. (Thank You GAP1 for the $5 word of a name that H.A. can't even say, let alone H.B. and H.C. so we just call him Merg for short.)
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
149
149 days. That's how far I made it into this year before having such a terrible day that only the unfortunate mishaps and bad luck of Clark Griswald could turn my perma-frown upside down. Not just any Griswald misadventure would do, no I needed Christmas Vacation misadventures to make me laugh.
Let me start off by saying I LOVE CHRISTMAS! I don't love it for the gifts, no I love it for the family, the get togethers, the twinkling lights and decorations. The excitement of waitng for Santa for my kids and the coute de gras of my Christmas season is the Christmas Eve family gathering at my grandparent's house. So whenever I am having a bad day, a really super aweful, terrible bad day...I watch a Christmas movie.
Moving on, My Hooigans were especially high on Hoilday weekend excitement and wear-down yesterday and they were ROTTEN. Whining and crying for nothing, screaming and yelling and hitting each other....I had had enough! I wasn't going to deal with anymore shenanigans, hijinx or tomfoolery. I sent everyone outside and turned the hose on and let them spray the shit our of each other. Then when they were done, I dried them off, sent them up stairs and turned on Clark Griswald.
I love this movie so much and it makes both the Hubs and I laugh. I use lines from it to defuse hostile situations, eg: Driving home from MI one weekend, a car sped up, past us and then pulled in front of us and immediately applied the brakes. Causing us and the line of cars behind us to slow down. Hubs, in road rage, sped up, past them and then did the same thing to them. Me, feeling a little frightened of a car crash looked at him and said,
"Alright Clark, what are you going to do next? Pull out under a logging truck?"
Laughter filled the car. We laughed so hard we slowed down because tears were coming out of our eyes.
"The little lights aren't twinkling Clark" is a phrase commonly used when a light burns out around here.
Last Christmas our tree was too tall, prompting "Do you think there's enough room for the Angel Clark?"
'The Shitter was full" can be heard when you go to use one bathroom, only to find it currently occupied, as you pass back through the house on your way up stairs you inform the others of your predicament
If you haven't figured it out, this movie is a favorite around here. It always makes me laugh and it always reminds me I need to lighten up. Not everything can go according to plan, sometimes you just have to push through the shit to see the rainbow...but don't get too crazy while pushing through.
SO! After I watched Christmas Vacation and had a very un-healthy snack (stress eater) I felt better and ready to deal with the Shenanigans! I let the kids come back down stairs and after being treated to the same over excited, wore down behavior, we hurried up, ate dinner and put kids to bed for the night...and watched Clark again! :) Today hasn't started out any better, but there is always tonight, and if that fails...tomorrow!
Let me start off by saying I LOVE CHRISTMAS! I don't love it for the gifts, no I love it for the family, the get togethers, the twinkling lights and decorations. The excitement of waitng for Santa for my kids and the coute de gras of my Christmas season is the Christmas Eve family gathering at my grandparent's house. So whenever I am having a bad day, a really super aweful, terrible bad day...I watch a Christmas movie.
Moving on, My Hooigans were especially high on Hoilday weekend excitement and wear-down yesterday and they were ROTTEN. Whining and crying for nothing, screaming and yelling and hitting each other....I had had enough! I wasn't going to deal with anymore shenanigans, hijinx or tomfoolery. I sent everyone outside and turned the hose on and let them spray the shit our of each other. Then when they were done, I dried them off, sent them up stairs and turned on Clark Griswald.
I love this movie so much and it makes both the Hubs and I laugh. I use lines from it to defuse hostile situations, eg: Driving home from MI one weekend, a car sped up, past us and then pulled in front of us and immediately applied the brakes. Causing us and the line of cars behind us to slow down. Hubs, in road rage, sped up, past them and then did the same thing to them. Me, feeling a little frightened of a car crash looked at him and said,
"Alright Clark, what are you going to do next? Pull out under a logging truck?"
Laughter filled the car. We laughed so hard we slowed down because tears were coming out of our eyes.
"The little lights aren't twinkling Clark" is a phrase commonly used when a light burns out around here.
Last Christmas our tree was too tall, prompting "Do you think there's enough room for the Angel Clark?"
'The Shitter was full" can be heard when you go to use one bathroom, only to find it currently occupied, as you pass back through the house on your way up stairs you inform the others of your predicament
If you haven't figured it out, this movie is a favorite around here. It always makes me laugh and it always reminds me I need to lighten up. Not everything can go according to plan, sometimes you just have to push through the shit to see the rainbow...but don't get too crazy while pushing through.
SO! After I watched Christmas Vacation and had a very un-healthy snack (stress eater) I felt better and ready to deal with the Shenanigans! I let the kids come back down stairs and after being treated to the same over excited, wore down behavior, we hurried up, ate dinner and put kids to bed for the night...and watched Clark again! :) Today hasn't started out any better, but there is always tonight, and if that fails...tomorrow!
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
The Importance of Routines....
When you are thinking about having a family, you always hear "It's so important to establish a routine early" or "babies crave routine.." and the ever present "Is her routine steady?"
I HATE ROUTINES!!!!
Let me be clear, I like to have normalcy, and something that never changes, but I also know how to roll with the punches. I rarely get all bent out of shape if something changes at the drop of a hat, but I'm not a free floating spirit either. I have moments where I just can't take on more change and I have moments where I'm thinking "WTF" as my Hubs goes into Monster mode because no one is following the "routine"
Here's one way you can be sure to piss me off by breaking a plan or routine;
I say "Ok, in 10 min we'll be ready to get in the car" after 10 min I say "Ok let's head out" and you say "Just a minute, I've got to get my shoes on, go potty, get something to drink and get cuppies around for the kids..." I will be pissed! WTF were you doing the past 10 effing minutes?!?! You weren't changing diapers, or getting shoes and coats on...so WTF were you doing that was so GD important that you didn't get all that shit done in those 10 effing minutes?!?!?! I cannot stand being late, even if there is no strict arrival time, if I say we're leaving in 10 minutes...WE'RE LEAVING IN 10 EFFING MINUTES!!!
Enough about me, let's talks about Hooligans A, B, and C.
Hooligan A aka Girl A, is a whiner. She is also Sassy, Bossy and a spoiled rotten brat. I know, I only have myself to blame, but it's the truth.
Hooligan B aka Boy is a brute. He has trouble communitcating and we're working on getting him into therapy for it. He might also have some coping issues, but we're not sure.
Hoolgan C aka Girl B is a feisty boss. She walks around with her toddler bhudda belly squawking orders at everyone in a language only she can understand...maybe Hooligan B knows it too...jury's still out.
Onto the routine thing....
Hooligan A is pretty good about following any routine you tell her to follow, but she gets pretty mouthy if you try to change it. She first sasses you about what was supposed to happen, then she whines about it, then she has a temper tantrum only a spoiled princess could muster. For this reason I have learned to NOT set forth a verbal routine...like leaving in 10min...it irks her too if it doesn't happen. (She's figured out how to judge time by the "big" hand..smart cookie)
Hooligan B is terrible about routines. He responds well to food bribes only adding to his brute-ish-ness by giving him more weight and muscle. Tell him we're leaving in 10 minutes and he's standing at the door in 5 seconds saying "Gooooo Bye Byeeeeee" and twisting the knob trying to get out without shoes and without a coat. For this reason I have learned to NOT set forth a verbal routine...like leaving in 10min!
Hooligan C is a free spirit. She does things on her own time and at her own pace. She only moves on time if you carry her. Teller her we're leaving in 10 minutes makes her run for cover. She finds a blanket and hides under it until she thinks the danger of going outside has passed. Some how she is not an outdoorsy person. For this reason I've learned to NOT set forth a verbal routine...like leaving in 10 min.
Hubby is a class A procrastinator like me. We make a terrible pair at getting any where on time. But if I tell him we're leaving in 10 minutes, he will say "ok" and then sit in the chair and play angry birds or try to finish his program while I get everyone else around. So when I'm ready to go, he is no where near ready! ARG! For this reason I have learned TO set forth a verbal routine...like we're leaving in 10min....along with several warning alarms at the 8, 5 and 2 minute marks!
So in conclusion...routine schmoopine! Having a routine throughout the day just means that everyday I will be having a coranary because no one is following it but me. We go at our own pace. I remind small hooligans of things that others won't tolerate and so they shouldn't do it at home. In a way, we do have a routine, our routine is no routine!
I HATE ROUTINES!!!!
Let me be clear, I like to have normalcy, and something that never changes, but I also know how to roll with the punches. I rarely get all bent out of shape if something changes at the drop of a hat, but I'm not a free floating spirit either. I have moments where I just can't take on more change and I have moments where I'm thinking "WTF" as my Hubs goes into Monster mode because no one is following the "routine"
Here's one way you can be sure to piss me off by breaking a plan or routine;
I say "Ok, in 10 min we'll be ready to get in the car" after 10 min I say "Ok let's head out" and you say "Just a minute, I've got to get my shoes on, go potty, get something to drink and get cuppies around for the kids..." I will be pissed! WTF were you doing the past 10 effing minutes?!?! You weren't changing diapers, or getting shoes and coats on...so WTF were you doing that was so GD important that you didn't get all that shit done in those 10 effing minutes?!?!?! I cannot stand being late, even if there is no strict arrival time, if I say we're leaving in 10 minutes...WE'RE LEAVING IN 10 EFFING MINUTES!!!
Enough about me, let's talks about Hooligans A, B, and C.
Hooligan A aka Girl A, is a whiner. She is also Sassy, Bossy and a spoiled rotten brat. I know, I only have myself to blame, but it's the truth.
Hooligan B aka Boy is a brute. He has trouble communitcating and we're working on getting him into therapy for it. He might also have some coping issues, but we're not sure.
Hoolgan C aka Girl B is a feisty boss. She walks around with her toddler bhudda belly squawking orders at everyone in a language only she can understand...maybe Hooligan B knows it too...jury's still out.
Onto the routine thing....
Hooligan A is pretty good about following any routine you tell her to follow, but she gets pretty mouthy if you try to change it. She first sasses you about what was supposed to happen, then she whines about it, then she has a temper tantrum only a spoiled princess could muster. For this reason I have learned to NOT set forth a verbal routine...like leaving in 10min...it irks her too if it doesn't happen. (She's figured out how to judge time by the "big" hand..smart cookie)
Hooligan B is terrible about routines. He responds well to food bribes only adding to his brute-ish-ness by giving him more weight and muscle. Tell him we're leaving in 10 minutes and he's standing at the door in 5 seconds saying "Gooooo Bye Byeeeeee" and twisting the knob trying to get out without shoes and without a coat. For this reason I have learned to NOT set forth a verbal routine...like leaving in 10min!
Hooligan C is a free spirit. She does things on her own time and at her own pace. She only moves on time if you carry her. Teller her we're leaving in 10 minutes makes her run for cover. She finds a blanket and hides under it until she thinks the danger of going outside has passed. Some how she is not an outdoorsy person. For this reason I've learned to NOT set forth a verbal routine...like leaving in 10 min.
Hubby is a class A procrastinator like me. We make a terrible pair at getting any where on time. But if I tell him we're leaving in 10 minutes, he will say "ok" and then sit in the chair and play angry birds or try to finish his program while I get everyone else around. So when I'm ready to go, he is no where near ready! ARG! For this reason I have learned TO set forth a verbal routine...like we're leaving in 10min....along with several warning alarms at the 8, 5 and 2 minute marks!
So in conclusion...routine schmoopine! Having a routine throughout the day just means that everyday I will be having a coranary because no one is following it but me. We go at our own pace. I remind small hooligans of things that others won't tolerate and so they shouldn't do it at home. In a way, we do have a routine, our routine is no routine!
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Roaring
Everynight around seven we start the bedtime routine. Depending on the night this could start with a bath (kids with eczema should not bath everyday), or picking out our pajamas,or if it has been a really bad day, just getting a butt change (for Boy and Girl B) and putting on the jammies that are ontop of the pile. Eventually we turn on a movie for the kids and say goodnight.
Lately, I have been enjoying a new ritual with Boy, roaring! It starts out that I am just watching him zoom a car up and down his leg, then he notices me and...."RAWR!" I jump back and pretend to scream. I hide around the corner and peek back into his room and..."RAWR". I love it. It's MY new routine! I want to see those big blue eyes light up with excitement when he scares me. I LOVEto hear the giggle he lets out when he catches me. And if I don't peek back in, he comes to the gate, leans out and says "Mom Mom, Rawr!". We do this over and over until he is less enthusiastic about it and then we go lay down on his bed and snuggle.
When I get up to leave, he grabs me and holds me close to him and says "Nigh nigh mom mom" and then makes the kissy sound indicating that he needs a kiss before I leave. He holds my hand or arm or foot, whatever he can grab, tight until I pry myself loose and I say "Goodnight Squishy, I love you!" (Yes I call him Squishy, short for Squishy Bear) and he says again "nigh nigh mom mom", and off I go to my room. Sometimes he starts crying and I go and get him and bring him in to snuggle with me and the Hubs!
I just love that little boy!
Lately, I have been enjoying a new ritual with Boy, roaring! It starts out that I am just watching him zoom a car up and down his leg, then he notices me and...."RAWR!" I jump back and pretend to scream. I hide around the corner and peek back into his room and..."RAWR". I love it. It's MY new routine! I want to see those big blue eyes light up with excitement when he scares me. I LOVEto hear the giggle he lets out when he catches me. And if I don't peek back in, he comes to the gate, leans out and says "Mom Mom, Rawr!". We do this over and over until he is less enthusiastic about it and then we go lay down on his bed and snuggle.
When I get up to leave, he grabs me and holds me close to him and says "Nigh nigh mom mom" and then makes the kissy sound indicating that he needs a kiss before I leave. He holds my hand or arm or foot, whatever he can grab, tight until I pry myself loose and I say "Goodnight Squishy, I love you!" (Yes I call him Squishy, short for Squishy Bear) and he says again "nigh nigh mom mom", and off I go to my room. Sometimes he starts crying and I go and get him and bring him in to snuggle with me and the Hubs!
I just love that little boy!
Friday, May 4, 2012
BOHICA!!!
Oh Army, how you chap my bum! Let me count the ways...
My Hubs has a second job, a love-job, he is an Army Reservist. (DO NOT assume Army Reserve is the same as Army National Guard, there is a difference. Not only is their name, but they differ in how, when and where they deploy) On a good day the thought of the Army chaps my bum, on a bad day its more like the Army has me bent over a table. Today is the table variety of hating the Army.
I knew my Hubs was a military man when I met him, but he was out then. When we were dating he decided to re-enlist, comprimises were made. He joined the Army reserves and stayed local, I kept dating some one in the military. Shallow I know, but having anything to do with the military was not high on my list. Anyway, I knew he was military when we met, when I continued dating him, and when we got married. Most days I quietly conceal my extreme dislike for how the Army always seems to ruin things for me....most days, today isn't one of those quiet days.
For almost a year now my Hubs' unit has held drill weekends on the third full weekend of the month. Its been regular, I have counted on it to stay that way, but this month they changed it and moved it up a weekend. For those of you without a calendar handy, this means drill weekend is now on MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND! Not that I was expecting a lavish weekend, we usual go about life as normal, I'd be lucky if Hubs took the hit and let me sleep in BOTH Saturday and Sunday. Also I'm a little peeved because I am pretty damn sure they'd never move up drill weekend to be on Father's Day weekend, assholes.
My Hubs has a second job, a love-job, he is an Army Reservist. (DO NOT assume Army Reserve is the same as Army National Guard, there is a difference. Not only is their name, but they differ in how, when and where they deploy) On a good day the thought of the Army chaps my bum, on a bad day its more like the Army has me bent over a table. Today is the table variety of hating the Army.
I knew my Hubs was a military man when I met him, but he was out then. When we were dating he decided to re-enlist, comprimises were made. He joined the Army reserves and stayed local, I kept dating some one in the military. Shallow I know, but having anything to do with the military was not high on my list. Anyway, I knew he was military when we met, when I continued dating him, and when we got married. Most days I quietly conceal my extreme dislike for how the Army always seems to ruin things for me....most days, today isn't one of those quiet days.
For almost a year now my Hubs' unit has held drill weekends on the third full weekend of the month. Its been regular, I have counted on it to stay that way, but this month they changed it and moved it up a weekend. For those of you without a calendar handy, this means drill weekend is now on MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND! Not that I was expecting a lavish weekend, we usual go about life as normal, I'd be lucky if Hubs took the hit and let me sleep in BOTH Saturday and Sunday. Also I'm a little peeved because I am pretty damn sure they'd never move up drill weekend to be on Father's Day weekend, assholes.
Moving on....
This year for Mother's Day, about two months ago, I made a Mother's Day purchase for myself. Something I knew I would love and have been wanting to do. I registered for the 5k Dirty Girls Mud Run for breast cancer research. It is the day before Mother's Day and it is 3 fun miles of mud, obsticles and climbing on and over shit. To me it is a giant big kids play ground! It's a chance to do all the fun stuff I loved doing as a kid, but society frowns upon grown ups doing that now...unless it supports a cause. So I paid the $70 registration fee, joined my friend's team, The Manicured Mudders, and was super excited to go play in some mud. Until today. Today the Army just ruined my Mother's Day. Not because the Hubs has Drill, but because the Hubs has drill I no longer have childcare so I can go to my Mud Run. We moved away from my very large, extended family that in a pinch I could always find someone willing to watch the Hooligans; to the Hubs' very small, immediate family that is a bunch of hard workers and everyone is always busy. My mother in law is a huge, huge help with the kids during the week when I have school, but weekends are her time and not only to I feel bad for asking, but there are some other complications that make her especially unavailable that weekend.
I swear, every other drill weekend where nothing special has been planned they operate like clock work. The minute I plan something that hinges on my Hubs being home...its like they catch a wiff of it and immediately go;
"Wait a minute! A wife has planned something special, and if her Husband isn't home it will fuck everything up. Well, we aren't in the business of making things convenient for the spouses and families, we better move up the drill weekend so her plans are foiled and she learns to never plan anything fun on a weekend ever again. We own them and their free time!"
An exaduration, I know. The Army isn't just one person being a dick head, but damn it, that's how I feel when it never fails to fuck up my plans. Thanks Army for ruining ANOTHER Mother's Day and you owe me $70.
A list of other Mother's Day ruined by the Army,
1) My very first Mother's Day, Hubs deployed to Iraq
2) My second Mother's Day, Hubs and I have a blow out fight over his non existant actions against certain undesirables in the Army because "It will look bad and I won't get promoted or commendations"---Yep, explain that to your wife who's first mother's day you missed and now for the second she's all jacked up on pregnancy hormones and you're telling her that the Army matters more to you than her...DEATH WISH!
After that, we gave up on Mother's Day being special and I honestly don't remember the last two.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Why reading is the best thing EVER!
Reading, the best thing ever. Why? Because for x amount of time each day you can be someone else, somewhere else, not the Mommy of three tiny Hooligans. Hooligans who seem to only live to find out how long it takes to make your eye start twitching every morning (ten minutes, depending on the shenanigans). For that short time while you're reading, the world around you quiets down (usually because it's nap time) and you can zone out for a while, ignoring the laundry, dishes and vacuum. You can transport yourself to New Jersey, Louisiana or a post apocolyptic North America (can you guess what I've been reading) where little voices aren't asking you for juice, cookies or to go outside to play in the dirt. Not that I have anything against playing in dirt, I just don't have any I want them playing in.
If you're lucky, your Hooligans are small enough that when they ask you to read them a book... you can say "I have that one memorized! Why don't you hold it while I recite it?" and then while they flip through their book, you read aloud from your book! They never know the difference and then they SUPER love that one book because it changes everytime they ask you to read it...Girl A has caught on, and it's probably best I read from books she will soon be reading herself, but still, I've got another year before Boy catches on and at least 2 with Girl B.
It also masks the shows that they love to watch, but you don't. Yo Gabba Gabba is a perfect example. It gives me nightmares. That guy is just weird in body proportions and I don't even know what the little critters are supposed to be, but the hooligans LOVE that stupid show. The sit so quiet and intent, that I can trim fingers and toes without a fuss! Yo Gabba Gabba comes on and I fire up the Nook or grab the book I have been reading and beam myself out of a bad situation! 25 min later I am feeling less stressed and the kids are asking for snack!
"You want to play in the bath for a little bit? Ok, I'll give you as long as it takes me to read one chapter!" Sitting on the bathroom floor, or on the toilet lid is not the most comfortable place to read, but hey, they get to play and you get to relax! Sometimes I get to the end of my chapter and ask if they're ready to get out yet, if they answer "no", WOO HOO, I've got another chapter of quiet coming my way!!!
"You want me to sit by you until you fall asleep? Can I bring my book?" You bet your sweet patunia I can bring my book! They don't want to snuggle (even though they say they do), they just want you to sit on their beds so they can poke at your face or hands or arms while they sing, wiggle their feet or cover their faces until they nod off to sleep. Girl A asks me to say a word, and them make the sound of each letter in that word while she spells it based off of my letter sounds...we can do that while I use words from my book!
Another good reason to read, is that it makes the kids want to read. Requests for reading books at bedtime is up, everyone pretends they're "mommy" and sits and reads a book. Sometimes Girl A brings me a piece of paper she has folded in half, telling me she wrote a book and asks if I'll read it. There is nothing written inside except for her, Boy's and Girl B's names. So I ask her to read it to me and her imagination takes off. I've been read stories about princesses without shoes, princes who fight horses and anything you can think of. All because they see mommy reading and want to know what it's all about. :-)
Reading, the best thing EVER!
If you're lucky, your Hooligans are small enough that when they ask you to read them a book... you can say "I have that one memorized! Why don't you hold it while I recite it?" and then while they flip through their book, you read aloud from your book! They never know the difference and then they SUPER love that one book because it changes everytime they ask you to read it...Girl A has caught on, and it's probably best I read from books she will soon be reading herself, but still, I've got another year before Boy catches on and at least 2 with Girl B.
It also masks the shows that they love to watch, but you don't. Yo Gabba Gabba is a perfect example. It gives me nightmares. That guy is just weird in body proportions and I don't even know what the little critters are supposed to be, but the hooligans LOVE that stupid show. The sit so quiet and intent, that I can trim fingers and toes without a fuss! Yo Gabba Gabba comes on and I fire up the Nook or grab the book I have been reading and beam myself out of a bad situation! 25 min later I am feeling less stressed and the kids are asking for snack!
"You want to play in the bath for a little bit? Ok, I'll give you as long as it takes me to read one chapter!" Sitting on the bathroom floor, or on the toilet lid is not the most comfortable place to read, but hey, they get to play and you get to relax! Sometimes I get to the end of my chapter and ask if they're ready to get out yet, if they answer "no", WOO HOO, I've got another chapter of quiet coming my way!!!
"You want me to sit by you until you fall asleep? Can I bring my book?" You bet your sweet patunia I can bring my book! They don't want to snuggle (even though they say they do), they just want you to sit on their beds so they can poke at your face or hands or arms while they sing, wiggle their feet or cover their faces until they nod off to sleep. Girl A asks me to say a word, and them make the sound of each letter in that word while she spells it based off of my letter sounds...we can do that while I use words from my book!
Another good reason to read, is that it makes the kids want to read. Requests for reading books at bedtime is up, everyone pretends they're "mommy" and sits and reads a book. Sometimes Girl A brings me a piece of paper she has folded in half, telling me she wrote a book and asks if I'll read it. There is nothing written inside except for her, Boy's and Girl B's names. So I ask her to read it to me and her imagination takes off. I've been read stories about princesses without shoes, princes who fight horses and anything you can think of. All because they see mommy reading and want to know what it's all about. :-)
Reading, the best thing EVER!
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Phrases that will always entice fear, loathing or
In my short four years of parenting I have learned that there are some phases you can utter that will instantly set the fear of death into your little ones hearts. They will scream and cry and have a nuclear melt down the size of Chernobyl. Here is a small list that I have experienced:
1. "Get out of the Kitchen!" -- Not the meanest thing I have been known to say, but apparently it's pretty rough. Upon uttering these words, one or more of the kitchen encroachers will burst into tears and throw themselves at my feet, furthering my frustrationthat they're in the kitchen in the first place and ensuring that I will repeat the same phrase as I scoop them up and rush them out of the kitchen. How am I supposed to refill their damn cuppy if they are always right in my path, following me around like a dog waitingfor his food bowl?!?!?!
2. "Get out of the dog water!" -- No wonder they follow me around like a dog..they're playing in his water!!! Once this phrase has passed my lips, screams lament errupt from their mouths, they are so upset that they're in trouble, they sometimes throw the dog water dish and make a bigger mess. Aren't they sweet when they're regretful?
3. "Get off my damn chair!" --See previous post for more indepth description, but here's the gist; These kids won't get of my chair when I'm in it, it irritates the hell out of me, I scream those terrifying words, they scream like I just drove a an imaginary knife into their little hearts. A-NNOY-ING
4. "Do you want Momma to spank your butt?" --This one can sometimes be answered with a simple "no", but sometimes it gets answered with a scream that can curdle blood. Why? Because they know the question is not rhetorical, I mean it. If I asked, then they know whatever they were just doing that they thought was fantastical fun, is actually really not cool, and could be met with a butt spanking, and this is apparently earth shattering for them.
6. "Pick up the living room, please" -- I'm not even screaming this one..well, not at first. And it is always met with "I can't dooo it" and tears that could flood the low lying surrounding areas. I don't know why it is such a hostile sentence to them, they all like running wild around a clean living room. Ask them to pick up their toys, and you might as well have asked them to throw out their beloved lovie, or giraffe or tv in their room.
7. "No you can't have a snack, I'm fixing lunch" -- "But I don't like lunch, I'm not hungry for lunch" Really kid?!?! You just asked for food, I'm telling you I am about to serve you food and your fighting me on it!?!? Well, guess what toots, you either eat lunch, or you're going hungry!!!
There are many many more, I'm sure, but these are just the few that I have spoken today alone... parenting is so much fun!
1. "Get out of the Kitchen!" -- Not the meanest thing I have been known to say, but apparently it's pretty rough. Upon uttering these words, one or more of the kitchen encroachers will burst into tears and throw themselves at my feet, furthering my frustrationthat they're in the kitchen in the first place and ensuring that I will repeat the same phrase as I scoop them up and rush them out of the kitchen. How am I supposed to refill their damn cuppy if they are always right in my path, following me around like a dog waitingfor his food bowl?!?!?!
2. "Get out of the dog water!" -- No wonder they follow me around like a dog..they're playing in his water!!! Once this phrase has passed my lips, screams lament errupt from their mouths, they are so upset that they're in trouble, they sometimes throw the dog water dish and make a bigger mess. Aren't they sweet when they're regretful?
3. "Get off my damn chair!" --See previous post for more indepth description, but here's the gist; These kids won't get of my chair when I'm in it, it irritates the hell out of me, I scream those terrifying words, they scream like I just drove a an imaginary knife into their little hearts. A-NNOY-ING
4. "Do you want Momma to spank your butt?" --This one can sometimes be answered with a simple "no", but sometimes it gets answered with a scream that can curdle blood. Why? Because they know the question is not rhetorical, I mean it. If I asked, then they know whatever they were just doing that they thought was fantastical fun, is actually really not cool, and could be met with a butt spanking, and this is apparently earth shattering for them.
6. "Pick up the living room, please" -- I'm not even screaming this one..well, not at first. And it is always met with "I can't dooo it" and tears that could flood the low lying surrounding areas. I don't know why it is such a hostile sentence to them, they all like running wild around a clean living room. Ask them to pick up their toys, and you might as well have asked them to throw out their beloved lovie, or giraffe or tv in their room.
7. "No you can't have a snack, I'm fixing lunch" -- "But I don't like lunch, I'm not hungry for lunch" Really kid?!?! You just asked for food, I'm telling you I am about to serve you food and your fighting me on it!?!? Well, guess what toots, you either eat lunch, or you're going hungry!!!
There are many many more, I'm sure, but these are just the few that I have spoken today alone... parenting is so much fun!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Always lock the deadbolt!
Good Morning Thursday! I wake up to midterm day and rain...oh joy! The morning seems pretty uneventful, I shower, get dressed and get the kids downstairs and dressed. Sean gets himself and Girl A around and head out for school and work. I am left at home with the two little ones. While I check my school email, I let Boy and Girl B play. I notice they are playing by the door, opening and closing it while the wave at no one and giggle. Pretty soon the noise stops. I get up and Boy has let himself and Girl B outside!!!!!
Girl B is halfway down the driveway, and Boy is splashing in puddles with no coats on and in the pouring rain. I run out in the rain and grab Girl A and bring her back inside. I run back outside and grab Boy and bring him back inside. He's screaming "No mamma, Noooo!" in a very annoying high pitched voice. I shut the door, and go back to my email, which is important because there is an email from one of my professors. I hear the kids at the door again, Boy opened the outer door and is contemplating going back outside. This time I shut the door and just lock it. Back to my email.
HE OPENS THE DOOR AGAIN!!!! This time I'm mad. I need to read this freaking email for my midterm in about an hour and the little shit is playing games!!! I get up, instant time out, and shut and lock the deadbolt. That'll fix 'em! Lesson of the day, always lock the deadbolt!
Girl B is halfway down the driveway, and Boy is splashing in puddles with no coats on and in the pouring rain. I run out in the rain and grab Girl A and bring her back inside. I run back outside and grab Boy and bring him back inside. He's screaming "No mamma, Noooo!" in a very annoying high pitched voice. I shut the door, and go back to my email, which is important because there is an email from one of my professors. I hear the kids at the door again, Boy opened the outer door and is contemplating going back outside. This time I shut the door and just lock it. Back to my email.
HE OPENS THE DOOR AGAIN!!!! This time I'm mad. I need to read this freaking email for my midterm in about an hour and the little shit is playing games!!! I get up, instant time out, and shut and lock the deadbolt. That'll fix 'em! Lesson of the day, always lock the deadbolt!
Monday, March 5, 2012
A Letter to the Clothes Laundry
Dear Clothes Laundry,
I HATE you! You are so time consuming, and even if I get you wash, dried and folded, one of the hooligans comes along and unfolds you before I can put you away. Why can't you be more like the sheets? The are easily washed, dried and top sheet ironed before being folded (true fitted sheet takes a little bit to fold properly, but it gets done) and put away. Blankets? I love those guys! Wash, Dry, Fold, Linen closet, done! What about socks, you ask? Don't worry about socks, I have dealt with them and their annoying, trouble making ways (those bitches). You clothes lauldry, you just seem to refuse to follow the predetermined program, so I will tell you One More Time...
Let's try to be friends, huh? I'm not all that bad (if you belong to the Hooligans, I'm sorry, but they won't get better for a while yet). I promise to wash you fold/hang you and wear you if you just promise to stop over taking the house. Stop piling up to enormous amounts that take days to get through. Perhaps you could find it in your heart to magically jump in the washer for me when you know its about to get out of control? OR, if that doesn't work, make me think I need to do dishes by hand, Lord knows the dishes conspire against me and get me soaking wet, I usually start a load after that business!
Sincerely, B (aka, the angry lady who throws you in the washer while swearing)
I HATE you! You are so time consuming, and even if I get you wash, dried and folded, one of the hooligans comes along and unfolds you before I can put you away. Why can't you be more like the sheets? The are easily washed, dried and top sheet ironed before being folded (true fitted sheet takes a little bit to fold properly, but it gets done) and put away. Blankets? I love those guys! Wash, Dry, Fold, Linen closet, done! What about socks, you ask? Don't worry about socks, I have dealt with them and their annoying, trouble making ways (those bitches). You clothes lauldry, you just seem to refuse to follow the predetermined program, so I will tell you One More Time...
- Purchase
- Wash
- Wear
- Clothes Hamper
- Wash
- Fold/Hang
- Repeat 3 through 6! FOREVER, or until I decide we don't want you or can't fit in you any more.
Let's try to be friends, huh? I'm not all that bad (if you belong to the Hooligans, I'm sorry, but they won't get better for a while yet). I promise to wash you fold/hang you and wear you if you just promise to stop over taking the house. Stop piling up to enormous amounts that take days to get through. Perhaps you could find it in your heart to magically jump in the washer for me when you know its about to get out of control? OR, if that doesn't work, make me think I need to do dishes by hand, Lord knows the dishes conspire against me and get me soaking wet, I usually start a load after that business!
Sincerely, B (aka, the angry lady who throws you in the washer while swearing)
Friday, February 17, 2012
When I'm the Guilty Party.
Do you ever have days where you are cursing the stupidity of your spouse only to realize it was YOUR fault? I did last night.
My husband and I like to have learning fun with the kids, so we make games out of learning tools. When Girl A was little we created a Color Catepillar. She LOVED it. We glued one to a poster board and had it laminated along with a duplicate copy of the caterpillar that we cut out and made it into a matching game using velcro dots to get the pieces to stick together. As a result we spent at least an hour every morning and afternoon playing this game with her and listening to her giggle as she would put the wrong colors together and say "No!" and rip it down as fast as she could. She knew all her colors by two and a half and by three was learning how to mix colors to get a new color.
Well, the caterpillar pieces were slobbered on by her new baby brother and destroyed so we threw the whole came out when she decided to color on the poster with sharpie markers. After 2 yrs of being without, we finally made another Casey the Color Caterpillar...he was a hit.
(Please note: the cords right there aren't usually there...it's for the treadmill that tubby here doesn't use as often as she should!)
With the success of Casey, we decided that numbers would be something to benefit all the kids, so we wanted to make a number snake in the same fashion. Poster board, velcro and laminating. I printed, I cut out and I glue sticked. I even ran to the office store on my break from class to get it laminated. I came home with Girl A and was soooo excited to get the snake up and running. As I was cutting out the laminate pieces she was trying to tell me the numbers by sight (she can already count to 20, but doesn't know them by sight). Then came the moment when we were ready to apply the velcro...except...Where is the velcro?
I look in all the Logical places, the junk drawers, the crafting baskets and on top of the fridge, no luck. I call the Hubs, certain he was the one to put it away...he suggests he put it in places I've already looked. I'm getting mad. Not because I can't find it, but because I am certain my husband has once again placed it in the most illogical place! He always does, and can't recall where he put it on the phone, but give him 10 seconds at home and he'll find it, "Here it is Hunnie! I told you I put the TV remote in a make up bag on the back of the toilet. Sheesh, why didn't you think of that?"....uuuuuh, because normal people don't put the tv remote in the bathroom!!! ANYWAY, I am cursing him out left and right to myself, my girlfriend whowas unfortunate enough to call while I was looking, my sister (again, called while looking) and my friend who I am making a diaper cake for, asking all of them "If you were my Hubby, where would you put it".
I finally find it, in my knitting bag! Because, you know that's the best place for Velcro...around a bunch of yarn!!!! More curses, more "What was he Thinking!?" Then the guilt comes. The more I think about where I found them, the more I start thinking "I think I put it there, it feels vaugely familiar" Yep, I put it there, in all my stupidity, I placed the damn velcro in the knitting bag thinking to myself "I'll just set it here and in the morning I'll open up the craft cupboard and put it away" never remembering that thought and thus placing the blame on my poor Hubs.
When he gets home I tell where I found the velcro. He instantly apologizes with "WTF, I'm sorry Hunnie I don't know what I was thinking" me, all red in the face, says "You weren't thinking, because I put it there." So Ashamed!!! Even worse, the Hubs went right along with my assumption of guilt! Have I really just forced blame upon him so much that he just assums responsibility, or is he just that fabulous a Hubby he takes responsibility so I don't feel stupid? Either way, what a great guy, such a keeper! Sam the Number Snake has Joined Casey the Color Caterpillar as games we play over and over and over, happily learning our colors and numbers through play.
My husband and I like to have learning fun with the kids, so we make games out of learning tools. When Girl A was little we created a Color Catepillar. She LOVED it. We glued one to a poster board and had it laminated along with a duplicate copy of the caterpillar that we cut out and made it into a matching game using velcro dots to get the pieces to stick together. As a result we spent at least an hour every morning and afternoon playing this game with her and listening to her giggle as she would put the wrong colors together and say "No!" and rip it down as fast as she could. She knew all her colors by two and a half and by three was learning how to mix colors to get a new color.
Well, the caterpillar pieces were slobbered on by her new baby brother and destroyed so we threw the whole came out when she decided to color on the poster with sharpie markers. After 2 yrs of being without, we finally made another Casey the Color Caterpillar...he was a hit.
With the success of Casey, we decided that numbers would be something to benefit all the kids, so we wanted to make a number snake in the same fashion. Poster board, velcro and laminating. I printed, I cut out and I glue sticked. I even ran to the office store on my break from class to get it laminated. I came home with Girl A and was soooo excited to get the snake up and running. As I was cutting out the laminate pieces she was trying to tell me the numbers by sight (she can already count to 20, but doesn't know them by sight). Then came the moment when we were ready to apply the velcro...except...Where is the velcro?
I look in all the Logical places, the junk drawers, the crafting baskets and on top of the fridge, no luck. I call the Hubs, certain he was the one to put it away...he suggests he put it in places I've already looked. I'm getting mad. Not because I can't find it, but because I am certain my husband has once again placed it in the most illogical place! He always does, and can't recall where he put it on the phone, but give him 10 seconds at home and he'll find it, "Here it is Hunnie! I told you I put the TV remote in a make up bag on the back of the toilet. Sheesh, why didn't you think of that?"....uuuuuh, because normal people don't put the tv remote in the bathroom!!! ANYWAY, I am cursing him out left and right to myself, my girlfriend whowas unfortunate enough to call while I was looking, my sister (again, called while looking) and my friend who I am making a diaper cake for, asking all of them "If you were my Hubby, where would you put it".
I finally find it, in my knitting bag! Because, you know that's the best place for Velcro...around a bunch of yarn!!!! More curses, more "What was he Thinking!?" Then the guilt comes. The more I think about where I found them, the more I start thinking "I think I put it there, it feels vaugely familiar" Yep, I put it there, in all my stupidity, I placed the damn velcro in the knitting bag thinking to myself "I'll just set it here and in the morning I'll open up the craft cupboard and put it away" never remembering that thought and thus placing the blame on my poor Hubs.
When he gets home I tell where I found the velcro. He instantly apologizes with "WTF, I'm sorry Hunnie I don't know what I was thinking" me, all red in the face, says "You weren't thinking, because I put it there." So Ashamed!!! Even worse, the Hubs went right along with my assumption of guilt! Have I really just forced blame upon him so much that he just assums responsibility, or is he just that fabulous a Hubby he takes responsibility so I don't feel stupid? Either way, what a great guy, such a keeper! Sam the Number Snake has Joined Casey the Color Caterpillar as games we play over and over and over, happily learning our colors and numbers through play.
THE END!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Dishes, my Nemesis
Who remembers the scene in "Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead" were the brother is told to do the dishes and you cut away to him skeet shooting the dirty dishes from the roof?
<iframe width="640" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CMiEpeKMNQI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Yep, wish I could do that...but I am a terrible shot and well, dishes are expensive.
I hate doing dishes for several reasons. It's not my assigned chore, Hubby does the kitchen, I do the living room. However that doesn't mean that sometimes he slacks on his chore to the point where I end up doing it, so when I do have to wash dishes..I'm flaming hot mad. My Hubby is incapable of scraping a dish before setting in the sink or on the counter, so all the left over food is there waiting for me. He is also a fan of filling things with water to "soak" for days at a time letting the water get super scummy and smelly. He's not the only one guilty of these offenses, I occasionally do it too, but if I'm going to do the dishes, you better believe they all get done.
WARNING: TOTALLY INRELATED SIDE NOTE, SKIP AHEAD IF IN A RUSH!
When we started dating, my first trip to the Hubby's house (yes, he owned a house when we met) I was scared to find all his dishes were dirty in his sink. He asked if I wanted something to drink and I replied "yes, but not from that kitchen" I went to the party store and bought us both some...beverages. I should have known that he wasn't a good dish washer. The next time I ventured to his house his kitchen was immaculate, which was a good thing since he offered to cook me dinner ( a man that cooks you try to hold onto), so when I arrived he said "Ok, before I can cook we need to go to the store and buy some new dishes and pots and pans" "Ok...what happened to the ones you had?" "Oh, I decided just to throw them out and buy new ones instead of washing them all, I never really liked those ones anyway" (please imagine a very shocked, jaw-dropped look, because that's how I looked at the end of that sentence).
After buying new dishes, he managed to hold onto those for a couple of years and then after a series of moves, we lost them and decided to buy new ones.
Back to the nemesis thing... I have a strange ability to always, ALWAYS soak myself when doing the dishes. You would think I never learned how to play at a water table when I was little. I don't know what it is, I can see that I'm about to drench myself and my brain is going "abort, abort, abort! Water coming in, About to get wet, ABORT!" but the relay system must be slow because I always end up wet. I am about to take a vinyl table covering and fashion it into a waterproof apron for myself just to save me from myself and my inability to keep the water in the sink and on my dishes. I beginning to think the dishes have some alien super power that allows them to override my brain's abort command and watch me dump water all over myself and giggle.
I imagine it goes something like this:
Dish 1: She's been doing really good on washing us, but this is so boring.
Dish 2: Yeah, back on planet Dishian we would be doing cannon balls and splashing water everywhere.
Dish 1: Hey! What do you think about using our super powers to override her brain and get her to
dump water...on herself!!!!
Dish 3: Hey, what are you guys talking about?
Dish 2: Dumping water on the washer here by using our super powers.
Dish 3: Sounds great, I'll get the rest to help out...
Insert evil giggle here.
We even have a dishwasher and I can't load that without getting soaked....fail.
Just ridiculousness.
<iframe width="640" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CMiEpeKMNQI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
Yep, wish I could do that...but I am a terrible shot and well, dishes are expensive.
I hate doing dishes for several reasons. It's not my assigned chore, Hubby does the kitchen, I do the living room. However that doesn't mean that sometimes he slacks on his chore to the point where I end up doing it, so when I do have to wash dishes..I'm flaming hot mad. My Hubby is incapable of scraping a dish before setting in the sink or on the counter, so all the left over food is there waiting for me. He is also a fan of filling things with water to "soak" for days at a time letting the water get super scummy and smelly. He's not the only one guilty of these offenses, I occasionally do it too, but if I'm going to do the dishes, you better believe they all get done.
WARNING: TOTALLY INRELATED SIDE NOTE, SKIP AHEAD IF IN A RUSH!
When we started dating, my first trip to the Hubby's house (yes, he owned a house when we met) I was scared to find all his dishes were dirty in his sink. He asked if I wanted something to drink and I replied "yes, but not from that kitchen" I went to the party store and bought us both some...beverages. I should have known that he wasn't a good dish washer. The next time I ventured to his house his kitchen was immaculate, which was a good thing since he offered to cook me dinner ( a man that cooks you try to hold onto), so when I arrived he said "Ok, before I can cook we need to go to the store and buy some new dishes and pots and pans" "Ok...what happened to the ones you had?" "Oh, I decided just to throw them out and buy new ones instead of washing them all, I never really liked those ones anyway" (please imagine a very shocked, jaw-dropped look, because that's how I looked at the end of that sentence).
After buying new dishes, he managed to hold onto those for a couple of years and then after a series of moves, we lost them and decided to buy new ones.
Back to the nemesis thing... I have a strange ability to always, ALWAYS soak myself when doing the dishes. You would think I never learned how to play at a water table when I was little. I don't know what it is, I can see that I'm about to drench myself and my brain is going "abort, abort, abort! Water coming in, About to get wet, ABORT!" but the relay system must be slow because I always end up wet. I am about to take a vinyl table covering and fashion it into a waterproof apron for myself just to save me from myself and my inability to keep the water in the sink and on my dishes. I beginning to think the dishes have some alien super power that allows them to override my brain's abort command and watch me dump water all over myself and giggle.
I imagine it goes something like this:
Dish 1: She's been doing really good on washing us, but this is so boring.
Dish 2: Yeah, back on planet Dishian we would be doing cannon balls and splashing water everywhere.
Dish 1: Hey! What do you think about using our super powers to override her brain and get her to
dump water...on herself!!!!
Dish 3: Hey, what are you guys talking about?
Dish 2: Dumping water on the washer here by using our super powers.
Dish 3: Sounds great, I'll get the rest to help out...
Insert evil giggle here.
We even have a dishwasher and I can't load that without getting soaked....fail.
Just ridiculousness.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Get Off My Chair.
I have a favorite chair, a very comfy chair, a chair my Loving Hubby bought me when I was pregnant with Girl A...but I have a problem with the chair. It attracts children who want me to rock them, hold them or to just wiggle and squiggle and piss me off.
Every night after baths I sit down in this chair, I read or knit or do homework, but its always in this chair. Every night I am interrupted by a kid. Now, I love the little boogers to death, I really do, but really? During the day when I'm just sitting there between loads of laundry or between dishes or vacuuming or what ever else I have going on, no one bothers me, but if I sit down to do something...oh...hell..no. They descend on me like vultures, circling their prey. They don't always climb up on my lap, sometimes,and worst of all, they'll just sit off to the side, leaning on my arm rest. This doesn't bother me because I was utilizing the arm rest, no, it irritates the hell out of me because they rock me when I don't want to be rocked, or they stop me from rocking, or worse yet, they just "jiggle" the fricken chair.
At first, I say very politely, "Please get off of mommy's chair, I don't like it when you do that." This usually buys me about 5 min of piece before, and it's always the same kid, they come back and are back at the annoying game of "Piss Mom Off". Second time around sounds more like, "Now that's enough! Please get off of my chair, I don't like that it makes me mad". I consider this fair warning to the little lovies that the next offense will have me yelling. Ten minutes tops and they're back at it, this time it sounds like "GET OFF MY DAMN CHAIR! I DON'T LIKE THAT, IT MAKES ME MAD, BACK OFF BEFORE I SPANK YOU!!!"
Now, this is where the tears start. Oh my GxD mom...just...yelled at me!!! BaaaaaaaaWaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Cry me a freakin river you little twirp. We go through this every night. When it first started happeneing I always felt instantly bad and would scoop them up and rock them and love them, but now...get over it. Every Night! Every single night we have to play this little charade, and it comes as a shock every night! Really? Kid gets a burn from a flat iron I told them to stay away from and now they won't even come in the doorway when I'm doing my hair, but sit in a chair and yell at them every night and the memory is wiped out every morning!??!?!?!?! Maybe I should sit armed with a flat iron instead of a laptop and sarcastic words?!
PS ( I have said "Get Off Of My Chair" at least 5 times since I started writing this...)
Every night after baths I sit down in this chair, I read or knit or do homework, but its always in this chair. Every night I am interrupted by a kid. Now, I love the little boogers to death, I really do, but really? During the day when I'm just sitting there between loads of laundry or between dishes or vacuuming or what ever else I have going on, no one bothers me, but if I sit down to do something...oh...hell..no. They descend on me like vultures, circling their prey. They don't always climb up on my lap, sometimes,and worst of all, they'll just sit off to the side, leaning on my arm rest. This doesn't bother me because I was utilizing the arm rest, no, it irritates the hell out of me because they rock me when I don't want to be rocked, or they stop me from rocking, or worse yet, they just "jiggle" the fricken chair.
At first, I say very politely, "Please get off of mommy's chair, I don't like it when you do that." This usually buys me about 5 min of piece before, and it's always the same kid, they come back and are back at the annoying game of "Piss Mom Off". Second time around sounds more like, "Now that's enough! Please get off of my chair, I don't like that it makes me mad". I consider this fair warning to the little lovies that the next offense will have me yelling. Ten minutes tops and they're back at it, this time it sounds like "GET OFF MY DAMN CHAIR! I DON'T LIKE THAT, IT MAKES ME MAD, BACK OFF BEFORE I SPANK YOU!!!"
Now, this is where the tears start. Oh my GxD mom...just...yelled at me!!! BaaaaaaaaWaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Cry me a freakin river you little twirp. We go through this every night. When it first started happeneing I always felt instantly bad and would scoop them up and rock them and love them, but now...get over it. Every Night! Every single night we have to play this little charade, and it comes as a shock every night! Really? Kid gets a burn from a flat iron I told them to stay away from and now they won't even come in the doorway when I'm doing my hair, but sit in a chair and yell at them every night and the memory is wiped out every morning!??!?!?!?! Maybe I should sit armed with a flat iron instead of a laptop and sarcastic words?!
PS ( I have said "Get Off Of My Chair" at least 5 times since I started writing this...)
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Ping Pong Clean Up - the greatest game EVER!
My house is a pig stye, I am not even going to try to pretend I have a clean house. I would love to be one of those people whose house is always company ready, but I have never been a super cleaner to begin with so add me,my not so cleaning Hubby and three never pick up a thing kids, and you have a terribly messy house!
So this past week, I set out to change that. My sister gave me an idea she had seen on T.V. You take ping pong balls and write chores on them, then you very nosily drop them in a bag and everyone picks out one ball at a time and that's your chore. I got bright colored ones for my kids, and plain for me and the Hubs. Girl A LOVES it. She actually asks to play it. Of course her ping pong chores are like "Pick up the shoes out of the living room" or "Pick up all the books". We make it super fun by trying to do it as fast as we can, and so far the living room is clean every night before we go to bed! The Hubs and I are a different story...not once have we drawn our own ping pong clean up game. Well, maybe this week we can change that. ;-)
So this past week, I set out to change that. My sister gave me an idea she had seen on T.V. You take ping pong balls and write chores on them, then you very nosily drop them in a bag and everyone picks out one ball at a time and that's your chore. I got bright colored ones for my kids, and plain for me and the Hubs. Girl A LOVES it. She actually asks to play it. Of course her ping pong chores are like "Pick up the shoes out of the living room" or "Pick up all the books". We make it super fun by trying to do it as fast as we can, and so far the living room is clean every night before we go to bed! The Hubs and I are a different story...not once have we drawn our own ping pong clean up game. Well, maybe this week we can change that. ;-)
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