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.

                                                           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.

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!

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!

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!

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...

1. Purchase
2. Wash
3. Wear
4. Clothes Hamper
5. Wash
6. Fold/Hang
7. Repeat 3 through 6! FOREVER, or until I decide we don't want you or can't fit in you any more.

There is no escape.  Even if I donated you, your new owner would put you through the same rigorous schedule or worse, they might cut you into rags or use you for animal bedding!

   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)

  

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.

THE END!

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? 

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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.