All Chaos, All the Time

2006-04-13T11:08:00.000-07:00

I'm neurotic in parking lots, and last night when the kids were riding their bikes around the block, I realized that I'm also neurotic about driveways. A little girl (6 yrs old) was accidentally run over by her dad (driving one of those raised pick-ups) several weeks ago in our community. I haven't been able to shake the horrible feeling I got the day I heard about it. She died at the hospital later that day. I know it's not just me that has been this affected by it. When I take Boo to school, the other mommies have death grips on their kids' hands, or they're yelling sporadically at their kids to get over here, stay right there, don't move. My kids have the "white line" rule - when they are out of the car, or waiting for their turn to get in the car, they have to wait with both feet on the painted line on the ground between cars. This doesn't do much for my neurosis right now. I wish I could shake the feeling I have. I don't know how that family is carrying on right now, but if I had been the one driving the truck....I can't even think about it.

Bub started tee ball on Tuesday. Granted, some of the boys are a year older than he is, but he was the only little man there that was clinging to his mommy or daddy. At one point he collapsed his legs and refused to walk over to the coach (which happens to be Daddy) so I had to drag him in front of all the other mommies whose boys all actually were participating nicely. And you know they're all, "What a mama's boy...gosh, lady, cut the apron strings." When it's not me, I promise! Ok, maybe a little of it is me, but I definitely want the boy to have some boy friends and play ball and not need hide behind me with his shyness. At one point he came over and told me that he was just simply too tired to play tee ball. I told him if he was too tired that we were going home that instant and he was going to bed (it was only 6:30pm). He walked over to the blanket where the baby was laying and joined her, wrapped himself up like a taco, and proceeded to suck his forefinger (the Bubby cue for "I'm getting ready to go to sleep"). AGH!

Snot & Nickels

2006-04-10T22:58:00.000-07:00

DH just accidentally cut the power to the computer and I lost 30 minutes worth of blog, and I'm ticked!!!!! I will try to recreate it again, but the last one was better.

I marvel at my immune system. Really - mommies can touch gallons of snot, change diapers so nasty that Huggies would never believe it, drink water laden with floaties thanks to children who steal her cup and backwash in it, get thrown up on...and still not manage to catch whatever it is that her children have. I am so glad that God has given me the immune system he has, because I do not want whatever it is that my children are selling right now. The weekend was full of the baby's yellow eye goop...which wound up necessitating one giant shot of antibiotics and eye drops that I must give to her 3x a day for a week. This requires swaddling her in a beach towel, straddling her, and prying her teeny eyes open while she screams. This was not in my job description. We woke up to Bubby screaming this morning because his ear hurt (the end result of a week of green boogers). DH and I tag teamed...Bubby was at urgent care by 8am and the baby and big sis and I were on our way to baby's doctor for a re-check at 8:15. Such a fun morning! DH and I swapped cars, children, and carseats in a parking lot of a shopping center when the fun was over. Boo had found a nickel in her daddy's car (although she will tell you in was a quarter) and was very excited to give it to her brother to help him feel better. I was touched by how giving she felt, and she was thrilled to present him the treasure in the parking lot. He loved his new shiny nickel!

What else is a mommy to do when her weekend and Monday morning have been so unfun? Shop, of course. The kids and I went into Linens & Things to walk around. We hadn't been in the store more than 30 seconds before Boo squealed, "MOOMMMYYY!! LOOK! IT'S WHAT I'VE ALWAYS WANTED!" She made a beeline for a My Little Pony coloring book w/ crayons. "OH MY GOSH!!! CAN I HAVE IT? PLEASE?" I check the price...there was no way in heck I was paying $5.99 for a coloring book & crayons.

"No, Boo. Not today. That's too much money."

"But!! But what if they run out? Then I'll never have one!"

"They won't run out, I promise. They'll have a ton still at Christmas I bet."

Boo lamented her very sad state of no My Little Pony coloring book, while Bubby admired his very shiny nickel, and we walked on.

A few minutes later, he spoke up.

"Mommy? I will give my money to Sissy so she can buy her book. Here Sissy, you have my money," he said as he wonderfully, innocently, lovingly handed her his treasure, and melted my heart into goo. I didn't love anyone else more than him at that moment. I didn't even have words.

Why do I deserve such a selfless, giving, huge-hearted boy?

No, I didn't buy Boo the coloring book. I tried to explain to him that his action was so great - so giving - but "thank you" didn't seem like enough. I told him that his sister had more than enough to color at home, and asked Boo to return his nickel to him.

The sad thing is that later on in the store, he was flipping his nickel around and it landed underneath a display. Boo even got on her belly to fish around for it, but we had no luck. The change part of my wallet is broken, so I couldn't even fake finding his nickel and swap one of mine in its place. He was broken-hearted, but I plan on putting a bunch of nickels in a little container for him to look at when his baby sister isn't around.

I want to protect his little heart and keep it this way forever. I sure wish there was a chapter on how to do that.

2006-04-03T15:52:00.000-07:00

Yes, Mom, I'm behind on the blog. If that's any indication of how scattered I've been the last 4 days - and today hasn't been a chair of bowlies either. Let's see...

Things I have picked up in the last 48 hours:
Pee-Pee (at least 3 times) ~ maybe I should say "soaked up"
Throw-up (the baby lost her entire morning bottle all over the exersaucer & herself)
1.2 billion toys
6 loads of laundry, strewn all over the living room, compliments of the older 2 kidlets
4 complete toddler-sized lunches, which no one decided to eat (life can exist on Goldfish crackers alone)

I'd keep going, but it makes me tired. Today I feel like a true princess, because I am still (a) conctact-less, (b) pants-less, (c) bra-less, (d) make-up-less, and (e) shower-less. And it's almost 4pm. But stay-at-home moms have it so easy that all I've done today is watch soap operas on my couch and eat 4 packages of Hershey Kisses while my angelic children play quietly in the other room.

And then I woke up from my dream :).

Today marks the end of month #2 of measuring my hippo-body. Total inches lost: 49 3/8. And yes, that 3/8 is important. And yes, I counted both arms and both legs, because I want to. Amazingly enough, my clothing is not falling off me yet, so either I was wearing it way too tight to begin with, or 49 3/8 inches is really not that much. I've also decided that (apparently) I will look pregnant for the rest of my life. As if the stretch marks, 3 c-section scars, and extra skin is not glamerous enough. Yesterday my 5'11 skinny blonde friend who runs (runs!) 5 miles a day complained to me that she can't wear a bathing suit during the summer because her body just isn't good enough. I held back my true opinion because I'm a weenie like that, but SERIOUSLY!!! I could've shoved a box of ho-ho's in her mouth for it. If *I* was her, I'd be running around naked at the pool, proclaiming that I had the best body EVER. The woman has had 3 kids and still looks like Barbie. I'm a Barbie-girl, in a Barbie-world, being plastic is fantastic... sorry, had a 1998 flashback. Really, I still must lose 20 more pounds before I will even CONSIDER putting an overly-expensive tummy-flattening all-black boob-lifting butt-covering one-piece (with shorts over it) on this body to take my children to the pool this summer. And once there, I will run from the community center to the pool, sit in it, and not move for fear that all of the Barbies will see me and remember why they haven't eaten in 3 weeks.

On that note, I think I will go pay my friend the elliptical a visit before the baby wakes up. : )

Who needs a broom?

2006-03-29T21:39:00.000-07:00

You know you need to get out more when you find yourself in your truck, alone, and the kids' CD is still playing, and you know every word, and you're singing along, and it takes several miles before you realize what you're doing. Then you quickly turn the radio on to big-people music, and hope that nobody you knew saw you driving and singing to the Veggie Tales or Backyardigans (which, I must say, has some pretty groovin tunes). Not that this has happened to me.

I tortured myself today and took all 3 kids to the grocery store. I had avoided the place for almost 3 weeks, and we were officially out of dinner ingredients. Not to mention that I needed my sugar-free fudgesicles because I can't survive without them. Our grocery store (the only one in town) has those truck-carts. The front is a pick-up truck that kidlets can sit in and "drive", and the bed of the pick-up truck is the grocery cart. I usually avoid these like the plague because (a) they're a pain to steer, and (b) I spend the entire trip yelling at my children to get back in the truck, sit down, stop hitting each other, stop ripping tags off of the shelves, etc. But....today the prospect of having them in the little truck with the baby secured to the seat part of the grocery cart sounded halfway appealing. I had to figure out a fast plan of action, though, to keep them in the truck. I wound up bribing them, which is every preschool mother's best weapon. I told them that if they stayed in the truck, they could pick out any cereal they wanted at the end of the trip. We only have things like Rice Krispies/plain cheerios/Frosted Mini Wheats at our house, so the temptation for Boo to pick out the coveted sugar cereal that she so badly wanted was enough to keep her hiney glued to the truck. For the first several minutes, anyways. Then she tried to ride with her upper torso out the window of the truck, waving at passers-by. "But I'm still sitting!" she whined. I don't think so.

They layed on the squeaky horns over and over and over and over and over again, and wailed, "Emergency! Emergency! Out of our ways!" to everyone in the aisles. I've given up being embarrassed by this type of thing. The only thing that bugs me is when people glare at me...because you know they're thinking one of two things: (a) "What kind of an idiot has that many kids that close together? Haven't you ever heard of birth control? She probably had the first one at 15 and couldn't stop and she's just a little hussy!" or (b) "Doesn't she have *any* control over them? Look at how unruly they are! Poor children are going to grow up to be the bane of society!" To these people I respectfully say, "Bite me."

(Sorry, Mom.)

For the most part, we made it through the grocery store without a hitch. This would've been a truly miraculous event if only I had remembered to buy meat for our dinners. Sort of an important igredient, ya know? I had already unloaded half the cart onto the conveyer belt when I realized that I'd neglected the meat section. We did, however, have one box of Cookie Crisp and one box of generic Cinnamon Toast Crunch (Bubby doens't know "generic" yet). They begged me to let them have some before nap time, after nap time, for dinner, after dinner...and I'm sure I will get summoned to one of their bedrooms soon because they need cereal.

The other higlight of my day? The baby ate neon pink play-do. I have considered attaching Swiffer cloths to her belly since she does such a fantastic job of eating cheerios and other miscellaneous dropped crumbs from the floor...why not have her remove hair and dust as well? Today the big kids had played with play-do, apparently dropped a chunk that hadn't been picked up, and my human dust buster found it. Boo was screaming hysterically from the kitchen (really hysterically). I think she thought that the baby was in grave danger, but I suppose that's normal considering the baby's teeth, gums, and tongue were neon pink.

So, back to my question: Who needs a broom? I've got the baby. : )

Mommy's Got a Big Ol' Butt (Oh Yeah!)

2006-03-27T21:28:00.000-07:00

My word. Where do I start? Bubby has pushed every button I have, and some I didn't know I had until today. He's hit his older sister multiple times with various items (not that I'm sure she didn't deserve it). He peed in his jeans, because why would we want to even feign that potty training is going to be successful by August (when preschool starts)? As I was putting him in his car seat today, he called me Big Fat Butt. Please, let's not acknowledge the obvious. We all know children are brutally honest, but did I deserve that? And the worst affront today: I was hosting Dance Party Obie this afternoon in his bedroom, and we were gettin' down to a Backyardigans CD. Even the baby was in on the action. Then, without warning, he commanded me to leave his room.

"Out Mama."
"Why? C'mon, shake your tail feather!" I swished my Big Fat Butt back and forth because we've been watching a tad too much "Chicken Little" lately.
"Because it's my room. It's not your room. I'm a boy. And you are not. You have to go out now."
"I'm the mama. This is my house, and I can stay in your room if I want to, Mr. B."
"Well I want you to get out. You go in the baby's room."

I tried to hide my hurt feelings. I tried to swallow my pride. I turned Backyardigans off in the middle of Boo's theme song (it's about being Queen of the Backyard, and everyone must answer to her, "Yes, Your Majesty,"). The baby and I left our Dance Party Obie, and I felt worse than when I left any junior high dance where my current crush had slow danced with some other stupid girl. Which happened like both times I ventured to a junior high dance. If that matters.

Seriously. The boy just had it out for me today. Then he went and did something so sweet that it took me back to - last month? - when he was acting like himself. Before this macho change started happening where Mommy was the wrong gender to Dance Party with him. I was rocking the baby to sleep when he peeked his head in her room. He tiptoed across the carpet with a finger over his lips, and then gently kissed the baby's back and rested his head on her. Then he tiptoed back out, and didn't even slam the door.

This almost redeemed him. I decided to massage his feet with lotion to try and win back his affection (because I'm a sick, demented mommy who needs her son's approval). Then he massaged my feet with lotion. And I think all is right with the world again.

Our reward system this week involves jelly beans. When I hear them say kind words, use good manners, obey the first time...they get to pick out a jelly bean to eat. Boo has had a LOT of jelly beans today. She's a good suck-up when she wants something...but heck, whatever works is my motto. She earned her final jelly bean tonight for putting PJ's on and going to the bathroom the first time I asked her to do it. She's been in bed for 10 minutes, and just walked out here with a cat-who-swallowed-the-mouse grin.

"Uhm, Mama?"
"Yes?"
"You know when you told me I could get a jelly bean? Well I got 4 of them, and I hid 3 under Laura (the stuffed carrot who shares her bed) for later. And, well, I just ate them and they were very good and you didn't know about it!" heheheheheh

For the love.

"We'll discuss your punishment tomorrow," I tell her. Because in the back of my mind I am laughing at her for telling me what she did, and so angry at her for eating all of that sugar at bedtime, and for sneaking it...but not willing to tell her that her punishment will be no jelly beans tomorrow because I don't feel like dealing with the inevitable half hour of whining and begging that will ensue.

Somebody better be nice to me tomorrow.

Samoas

2006-03-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

Am I the only American who didn't eat Girl Scout cookies this year? I mean a single, solitary, wonderfully yummy Samoa? Thin Mint? Tagalong? I shouldn't even be typing those words or my body will go ahead and gain 4 or 5 inches along my waist. I was thinking that I'd survived GS Cookie Season. Nobody knocked on our door, and I only saw a couple groups of the green cookie girls outside of WalMart, but I just pretended to be incredibly interested in my pocket lint so that I didn't even look at their wares. And then DH went and brought home Samoa ice cream last night, which I still haven't forgiven him for. Just when I thought I might be in the clear...so, here I am, admitting that I took 4 bites of Samoa ice cream. They're my favorite. And I didn't really eat the ice cream, I just pushed it all around to find the chunks of Samoas. C'mon, throw me a bone here! I haven't had real ice cream since....well, since last Saturday. But that was the first time in 2 months, and I actually LOST weight after I ate it, so I'm done punishing myself for it. It's a dang good thing that I don't have a box of Samoas here right now or they'd be so gone.

My brother just started pastoring a church. Today was his 2nd Sunday at the church, so to be supportive, we went. There's not any official Sunday school for the kids, so the older 2 went in w/ an older woman and a few other kids to watch a cartoon about Jesus (it was so old that I probably watched it when I was a kid). They're meeting at an elementary school for now, so the kids were in a school classroom. The rest of the adults were in a cafeteria room, which is where DH, baby, and I were until the baby decided that she was done being half-quiet. The baby and I wound up outside (the doors were propped open) so that we didn't bother Uncle with our loud squeals and DA DA DA DA DA.

As my brother was saying the closing prayer, the fire alarm went off. My brother will look back 10 years from now and find that this is hilarious, but it's not so funny when you're trying really hard to let people feel secure in your leadership and weird things like the fire alarm go off in church. He had everyone circle up in the parking lot and finish praying (he had to yell over the fire alarm). It occurred to me that the older 2 kids were not around (I get Mother of the Year today!), but DH wasn't around either...so he must've gone to get them. Then it dawned on me that (a) there wasn't really a fire, so... (b) one of the Sunday school kids probably pulled the alarm, and (c) it could've been one of my two, in which case, (d) Uncle was going to not be very happy.

Five minutes later, DH showed up w/ the older 2 kids (one in tears, the other one w/ a panic-stricken look). The alarm was still blaring, and I couldn't wait any longer to find out...
"Tell me it wasn't one of them," I begged him.
"No, it was the kid over there," he pointed.
A little boy, maybe a bit older then Bubby. Thank GOODNESS. Turns out it was his family's first Sunday at the church. Bet they have a chat w/ him about fire alarms.

Then came the sirens, and the fire truck, and the cutie firemen in their full gear (fire alarm still blaring). Boo's tears had dried once I managed to yell over the siren that there really wasn't a fire, but Bubby was terrified of the firemen even though he lives for firetrucks. It took at least 20 minutes to get the alarm off, so I had plenty of time to sit on the curb w/ the kids and give them a lesson about the little red box on the wall and why we shouldn't ever pull it just because it looks pretty.

My brother is hoping that the school doesn't get charged a huge fine, and that the fine doesn't get passed onto his brand new congregation. He would never ask that family to pay the fine, of course. God is bigger than fire alarms and fines.

I can still taste Samoas. : )

2006-03-24T15:45:00.000-07:00

The ladybugs can thank their lucky spots that they all got the memo and crawled out of the dome and into our bugsprayed yard :o). Lick your little feet, bugs.

Today I was on the phone w/ the place the kids' take swim lessons from, for the 3rd time...trying to schedule their classes for this summer. I'm ahead of the game, I know. It's the over-acheiver in me. I just have to fit so much stuff in that I have to book their lessons now or whine in August that we're sitting outside in 115 degrees while they're having lessons. Anyways, I was on the phone. The baby was squealing for joy over some new find, but since she wasn't crying...I let it go.

After 5 minutes on the phone (and still not making swim lesson dates), I found her sitting by the 'fridge. She had taken one of Bubby's marker-drawn pictures off of it, and had crumpled it beyond recognition. My first instinct was to hide the evidence that incriminated her before he saw what she had done. As I was peeling wet pieces of the former picture off of her face/hands/clothes, I realized that she had sucked all over the picture, too. Why not? I'm sure marker paper tastes outstanding.

That's when I realized that my child's hands/face/ears/arms/clothing had turned pretty shades of dark blue and black. Apparently washable marker also washes off of paper (and onto your baby) when she slimes it with her spit. Nice to know.

I should've gotten the camera out to take pictures of her new color...sort of a smurf, but not blue enough. Then I remembered that I was hiding the evidence, and if I photographed her....someone could like her to the crime.

Am I going to be like this when they're teens, too? Gosh, I hope not.

2006-03-22T19:03:00.000-07:00

My mood hasn't gotten much better. We tried setting the Ladybug Land out in the grass so that they'd go away, but only 3 crawled out on their own. I had to bring the dumb dome back inside tonight so that ants, etc. don't get in there. They'd better adhere to the eviction notice in the morning or I'm going to borrow my dentist's sucky-tool thing (that they get your extra spit out with).

The kids are having applesauce w/ their dinner. They love cinnamon sprinkled on top, but apparently I'm so out of it that I put chili powder on it instead. A lot of chili powder.

2006-03-22T15:09:00.000-07:00

Before I write this, I have to state for the record that I am a pretty normal person, haven't had any psychological trauma (that I know of!), and I am completely sane. Usually.

I am going to have Boo release her ladybugs either today or tomorrow, at the latest. I can't stand them anymore. They are vile, wretched bugs. In fact, I feel so sickened by them right now that I don't think I'll ever look at another ladybug again without remembering today.

The last ladybug larvae guy (#14) to "assume the position" (the larvae would latch themselves to the side of the dome, and about a day later they would turn into the white wormy thing), was also the last ladybug (#14) to hatch yesterday. I was watching him pull his way out of his "cocoon" (I don't know what it's called for a ladybug!). Another ladybug walked over to him as #14 was just about out of his shell thing, and appeared to get stuck on his wet exterior. #14 was struggling to walk, and the other ladybug seemed like his front legs couldn't un-stick. After watching this for a little bit, I got a long water dropper and stuck it in the dome to detach the two of them. All seemed ok, except #14's wing was a little out of sorts.

Last night I told DH that I felt terrible because (now that #14's shell had hardened up) you could obviously see that he was cracked and would never fly. He was having a hard time getting around like everybody else and I told DH that I thought he might be D-Y-I-N-G because I had H-U-R-T him (had to spell since Boo was in the room). He was still alive this morning.

We ran a few errands today, and got home just a bit ago. I peeked in there to see how #14 was doing, and realized that one of the other ladybugs is eating him. I am totally crying! How on earth did I get so attached to a bug?! Seriously, I am really feeling some emotion for that little guy. A true hatred for the ladybug who is devouring him! What am I going to tell Boo (who counts them everyday) when she realizes that she only has 13?

More than anything else, I am sad because the happy image I've always had of ladybugs - the cute little dotted guys that are fun to catch and play with in the backyard, the adorable ladybugs who decorate my girls' clothes, the pretty ladybug design that I wanted to do the baby's room in when she's older - all of that is ruined because I feel so sick right now. I realize it's probably natural selection or something. He was the "runt" of their little group...the last one in and the last one out. It just makes me feel so bad for him, and I can't help but blame myself because maybe if I hadn't interfered, he would've gotten himself unstuck from the other bug.

I want the rest of them gone. I don't care that the book says it has to be 55 degrees outside for them to survive. It'll get colder than 55 at night, but right now I don't care if they all freeze their spots off. Well, I don't care if the one eating #14 freezes his spots off.

I can't believe that I cried over a bug.

2006-03-21T15:10:00.000-07:00

I know, I've been slacking. Chalk it up to being sick w/ some nasty virus thing and having houseguests for a couple of nights. First of all, we have hatched all 14 ladybugs, and they're super cute! Pink, with plenty of spots. Watching them crawl out of their little hideaway skin things was creepy, but very fun. Boo took them to school today to show her class, and one of them shed its skin right in front of them. They come out totally white w/ no spots...and about an hour lady turn pink and get their dots.

The baby has managed to pick up a disturbing new habit, and I decided to chronicle it with a poem. Do not mock my sorry attempt at poetry! :o) I am a mommy, not Shakespeare. Without further adieu...

~Ode to the Potty~
There you are, my brand new toy
You were put there for me to enjoy
My eyes twinkle, my mouth squeals
I’m in love with you, my glee reveals

Slap-slap-slap go my hands on the tile
I’m crawling to you with a big smile
It’s been so long since we last met
But our last time together, I cannot forget!

Hello, special white friend, hello!
Alas! Your lid is up! I can see what’s below!
Hands to the sky, I reach for your seat
I balance on my knees, and then pull to my feet

Oh, joy! Sweet joy! There’s the water, I see!
All of this time you’ve been waiting for me
Can I touch you? Shall I splash? May I? Oh, yes!
Swish-splash-swish, *squeal* What a mess!

But, hark! What’s this? I almost forgot!
There is your flusher - I can flush you a lot
They reach for you, fun toy, the fat hands that I’ve got
WHOOSH! There goes all the water, my pot!

The fun is not over, no not just yet
Mommy’s on her way, but before I forget
There is potty’s friend: the tissue on a roll!
I hit you, unroll you, more on the floor is my goal

I squeal, I jump, I yell with my voice
Potty is my best friend, let’s all rejoice!
Not just a toy, but entertainment galore
Uh oh! I am being whisked off the floor

And to the sink, Mommy sounds a little mad
She’s washing my hands and says I’ve been bad
Can’t she see? Potty and I are special friends
I will just hurry back to play with him again

Farewell, my love, goodbye for a while
I’ll come back to you, chubby cheeks with a smile
And we will splash, flush, unroll, and play!
Goodbye, fun little potty, until another day

Anatomy

2006-03-17T21:25:00.000-07:00

While I found both of these events incredibly hilarious and had to force myself to hold my emotion in, I am also a little sad!

Bubby earned a flashlight for going poo poo in the potty. Seriously, it's what he wanted from WalMart...a 94 cent flashlight. Who am I to deny the boy his amusement? Our only rule is that he can't shine it in his eyes or anyone else's eyes. Apparently I should've made a couple more rules. I was putting his diaper on him at bedtime last night while he messed with his flashlight.

"Mommyyyyyy! My hand is red! Look at m'hand!" He squealed. He thinks it's very cool to hold the light up to his palm and see the colors change.

"Wow! That's fun!" I replied, distracted by Anneke complaining to me that she was not going to be able to sleep because I hadn't trimmed her nail on her forefinger. Heaven forbid.

"Mommy! This is my pee pee," Bubby mumbled. I still hadn't velcroed his diaper closed, and now he was sitting up with his diaper half on/half off. The flashlight was smushed into his...well, his "unit" (to quote Andy G.) :o) At this point, I had to turn my head and hold my breath so that I didn't lose it. When I finally had regained composure (he had been describing his pee pee to me the whole time), I turned back around to face him. The exploration hadn't ended, though.

"Mommy! This is the hole that my pee pee comes out of!" The boy was in awe. I am so sad now, because I fear that his love affair with his "unit" has begun, and there will be nothing that I can do to quell it now. I knew this day would come. *sniff, sniff*

Well, today Bub and I had to go to the allergist to get him tested for a bazillion irritants. Apparently the only thing that sets him off is Mesquite trees. I don't even know what a Mesquite tree looks like. Whatever. He has to be on nose spray and a breathing machine for a month, so needless to say...we are excited at our house. Anyways, after his doctor appointment I lifted him up into his carseat. While I was buckling him in, he took his forefinger and poked my...well, we call it a boob at our house. I thought maybe he'd done it on accident, except that when I looked up at him he was staring at my boobs.

And then he poked the other one.

"What are you doing, Son?"

"Mommy? Why doesn't the baby eat out of these anymore?" (poke, poke, poke)

Good, Son. For the rest of your growing years, you just associate boobs with breastfeeding and life with go much easier for you. Amen, Lord. Amen. Amen Amen Amen Amen Amen

"Well, because she got bigger, and she knows how to drink out of the bottle now. Kind of like how you drink out of a sippy cup now instead of a bottle."

"Oh. Are we going to get ice cream now?"

Anatomy & Physiology 101 has concluded. There are no more sessions available. At least not for many, many years.

It Won't Die

2006-03-16T14:48:00.000-07:00

A few years ago we bought Boo a board game - called something about the Fishing Hole. The whole idea is that little fish with magnets in them "swim" all over the board "pond" and you have to catch them with your little plastic fishing rod. Cute idea, except that it BLARES a totally irritating tune while you fish. I don't know the name of the song, but I remember that it had words like "Bing Bang Walla Walla..." something. To turn the game (and the song) on, you have to push a little turtle that sits on top of the pond. If you bump the box while the game is inside, the song comes on. If you close the closet door too hard, the song comes on. If you look at the box wrong, the song comes on. I have come to despise this game, because when we're asleep at night, it mysteriously comes on. When we've left the house and then come home, it mysteriously has come on. It naturally follows that this is my kids' FAVORITE game, and they beg for it.

I must confess. I couldn't take the blaring song anymore, and I put the game out in the garage, concealed in a garbage bag, with explicit instructions to DH for him to put it in the trash can before the kids realized what I did. It's been out in the trash can for at least 3 days now, and the trash can sits outside of the house, behind the gate to the backyard. Today the kids and I got home from some errands, pulled into the garage, and I thought I heard music. All of our neighbors are fairly quiet people, so I just assumed that someone had a car radio on. But by the time I removed a child from carseat #2, I cringed.

Yes, the song from the devil himself was playing...in OUR TRASH CAN, with the lid down, and I could hear it so clearly in the garage that I could've hummed along. The stupid game will not go away!!!!! Thankfully none of the kids heard the song or realized that I ran to the trash can to dig (yes, dig) through the trash to smash the game box with my fist to turn it off. Unbelievable. The trash man comes tomorrow. I will have to check myself into some kind of psychiatric hospital if that game is still in the trash can after the trash guy comes.

Today marks 2 months on the SBD (AKA starving oneself and not eating anything that tastes good). I hit 31 pounds gone, which is great for 2 months. I still have 19 pounds to go before I'll put a bathing suit on. I realized today that I have lost as much as Bubby weighs. Weird to think that that much has come off my body, and yet my clothes still aren't falling off. My goal is to lose 24 more before the baby's first birthday in May. And after May, I've got about six more months to go before our 10th anniversary and DH still thinks we're going to an island to celebrate (I voted for a cruise, but apparently my vote doesn't count!). Either way, in those six months I have to lose another 40 - 50, and then I'll be happy. Well, happy for me...even if other people still don't think I'm model material : ).

Ouch!

2006-03-15T21:07:00.000-07:00

First of all, here's a picture of our Ladybug Land! I must say, I am entirely impressed and excited every time one of our little black larvae guys converts to a pupae worm thingy. I had a take a picture of two of the wormy guys - they are attached the gray "castle" - they look like a light yellow color in the photo. Crazy, huh? I love those guys! There's only 2 of the 14 left who haven't done the wormy thing yet...I bet tonight's their night!

So onto the more important topic, me. I had these skin tag things - kind of like itty bitty moles, only they aren't moles - growing on my neck. I know, gross. But I swear it's not my fault; my last pregnancy did some funky things to my body, including growing bizarre things on my skin. I went to a dr. I hadn't been to today to have them removed. The lady was not Little Miss Sunshine...she never even looked me in the eye the whole time I was with her. She had a thick accent, rattled off a bunch of questions about my health history, and told me to go into the room. This is the room that I had 18 stitches sewn into a gash in my leg. This is the room that Boo had a gash in her chin sewn up. I hate that room.

Miss Bedside Manner then gets her tools of death & destruction ready on the cart, tells me to lay down, and proceeds to give me 4 shots of lidocaine in my neck (where the skin tags are). Yeah, they hurt. But seriously...I've had 3 kids taken out of my abdomen; I was stabbed with an epidural needle 18 times w/ the last baby...I can handle a few shots in my neck. It was Miss Beside Manner's next move that had me reeling. She took her cauterizer gun thing that burns the skin tag away, and went to work. Only apparently she thought she found a couple of other things on my neck and collarbone area that she should burn off - because she just started burning me without the numbing shot! And if that wasn't fun enough, I had a teeny one under my eye, so she just burned that one a couple of times without a shot either.

The woman will not be getting a Christmas card from me this year. And I don't care if I have a horn growing out of my butt, I will NOT be going to her for help every again!!

If the pain wasn't bad enough, I now look like I have a half dozen hickeys with black scabs in the middle of them. And I can't touch them! I am a leper!

I must go to sleep and feel sorry for myself now :o(.

Worm!!!!!

2006-03-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

For over a week now we've been watching our ladybug larvaes. They creeped my mom out, and she made me promise that they couldn't get the little cap off of the dome and escape. I thought about hot-gluing it, trust me. The kids have gotten bored with the little black pincher-bug thingys. Bubby doesn't even want to take our bugs on car rides anymore.

Our booklet says that after a week or so of being ugly, they will suction cup themselves in a little "u" shape to the top of the dome and magically become white wormy-things....and then a few days later, out pops a cute little ladybug. So tonight, while I was cooking dinner, I was checking up on them. Everybody seemed happy, and a couple of our little buggies had attached themselves to the dome. Another one looked like he'd forgotten his roadmap to the dome and had attached himself to the "castle" instead (the castle is the rock formation inside, compliments of Bubby's imagination).

We put the kids to bed, I beat my body up on the elliptical, took a shower....and came out to the kitchen. And what do we have? A worm!!!! Seriously - it's crazy. Boo is gonna wig when she gets up in the morning. I was standing in amazement at the white wiggly worm (it's actually the bug who attached himself to the castle!) and told DH, "It's a miracle!"

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is! A couple of hours ago, he was just chillin, and now...he's a white worm with no head! That's just amazing! Where'd it come from? Was he hiding it in his back pocket? It's a miracle!"

"No, it's how ladybugs are made. It's just God's creation."

Leave it to DH to take the mystery and romantic side out of it. Whatever. I still vote that my little bug is a miracle. Creepy, but a miracle. I can't wait for the rest of the crew to go worm. I'm so excited for them!

The bug spray guy comes tomorrow. I know he will think I'm an idiot, but I have to ask him if his bug spray is going to hurt our little pack of larvae-worms. They're like family now. Even if they do look more like a Star Wars creature.

Run, Forrest, Run!

2006-03-12T21:13:00.000-07:00

Church, like every other event, is an adventure for us. We have our best fights on Sunday mornings (shhhhh, that's a BIG Christian secret) as we attempt to get everyone ready and out the door by 9, or 9:15, or (most likely) 9:30 so that we can speed (and fight more) to make it on time. By the time we get there, someone has removed a hairbow that I worked 10 minutes to put in; someone else has taken a shoe off; someone has to go potty; DH still has to shave. Then we rush the older 2 off to their Sunday school class (they're in the same one) and half-run with the baby to the main building with high hopes that we will not wind up sitting in the very back of the room because we're late (like we'd ever make it early enough to move up a few rows). Never fear, though. Since last May, mommy has watched church from the cry room with a certain someone who can't keep herself quiet.

However, since we are all about moving onward and upward, we have been nursery-training the baby. This is similar to potty training in that it takes a LONG TIME to do, it's messy, there's usually a dirty diaper, and there's plenty of crying involved. After we've spent 5 minutes in the main service & made our presence known to everyone within 8 rows of us, I walk the baby back over to the Sunday school building where nursery-training takes place. She knows when we're on our way there because she gets very, very quiet. If she could just follow directions and be this quiet in church, we wouldn't have the problem that we have in the first place.

It's a very standard routine: sign her in on the clipboard; take a number. Hand her to the nice nursery worker(s) who are all THRILLED to see her (why wouldn't you want a screamer in the nursery with 16 other babies?)....fix a bottle. The nice nursery grandma shows the wonderful bottle to the baby, and she shoves it away and screams. Baby lunges for mommy, and mommy turns and walks out the door while the screaming fit begins. I can only assume she thinks one of two things: A) "You're leaving me here with these people and I'll never see you again!!!!", or B) I am so mad at you for making me stay here again that I'm not going to take naps for five days!!!" Either way, I feel guilty.

By now, worship is over. It's back to the main building to watch the number board. The nursery people will flash the baby's ID number if she's being bad (which is usually 20 minutes). Today, 20 minutes came and went. I was starting to wonder if one of the workers had lost her number, or drugged her. 30 minutes. 40 minutes. It's a miracle...I've almost been in church for an entire service! (Well, minus the whole first half hour.). 43 minutes...and there's her number. Everyone stares as DH goes out the door to get our baby, the loud one, the one that gets us paged every week, the one that gets the boot from the nursery.

Daddy brings her back into the main building and she's so exicted to see me and be reunited after the eternal separation she feared...that she squeals. Loudly. She grabs my hair, jumps up and down on my legs, and yells, "Dadadadadadada!!!" And it's back to the cry room we go until church is over.

So today, after all of this, DH took Hyper to the car while I went to retrieve the older two. Sweaters on, thank-yous to the teachers, and it's out the door we go. Only I seem to have acquired a 3rd child, and this one is Asian and (obviously) has Downs Syndrome. Hmmm... Boo lets me know that this girl is following us (thank goodness my child is on top of things). There are no other parents outside; there were a couple standing inside. I open up the classroom door and ask the parents in there if anyone has misplaced a little girl...but I'm met with blank stares. The little girl utters something unintelligible, and Boo translates, "I think she's lost."

"Honey, you need to go back inside and wait for your Mommy and Daddy," I say. She mumbles again and points to the parking lot, which is about 30 yards away. "No, come on...let's go back inside."

It isn't working. I'm grabbing at straws now. "Boo, is this girl in your class?" Maybe she just wanders in and out of classrooms..I hope.

"Yeah," Boo answers. Great.

The little girl starts walking towards the parking lot with a purpose. I told Boo & Bubby to stand still, and I start running after the girl. Now, it's been a while since I've run anywhere. I wasn't too sure I still knew how to do it. Especially in boots...but I didn't want to be known around church as the "Mommy Who Let the Little Girl Get Run Over in the Parking Lot". I feel like an idiot. Run, Forrest, Run! The little girl turns around and realizes that I'm running toward her, so what else would she do? Run, too. And she's a fast little thing...we're almost to the parking lot when she (thankfully) turns the corner of the building. For the love of all that's holy, child. Seriously. I can't run. All I can do is the elliptical for 30 minutes and that's more like air running. I'm beginning to realize that I am, indeed, a great mom because I left my own 2 children wayyyyy back on the other side of the building.

Speedy is finally in my sights again and then she rounds another corner...and I notice DH out of the corner of my eye, standing at the truck with a look on his face that read something like, "What on God's green earth is my wife sprinting after a little Asian girl for?" At least he's realized that his smart wife has left the other 2 offspring stranded by themselves, and I don't feel so bad. Around the 2nd corner...and there she is. Stopped by a locked gate, hallelujah. I'm not as out of breath as I thought I'd be, so I start in with, "Honey, we need to go back to Sunday school now."

She grunts and points at the playground just beyond the gate. I try to take her hand, but she pulls away and yells. Great. Now somebody is going to think I'm trying to kidnap the little Asian girl. This little circus show has gone on long enough, so I tell her that we are, most definitely, going back to Sunday school, and I take her hand. She fights me a little, but walks behind me. I'm halfway back to the classroom when the Sunday school teacher (who is a little late to this child-chasing event!) meets up with us. She thanks me, takes the little girl, and mumbles something about, "This one can't get out..." Well, if I would've known that opening the door to the classroom was consistent with opening a puppy cage and hoping none escaped with the 2 I was retrieving...I would've been more careful!

DH asked me what happened when I got to the truck.

"Just an escapee," I told him. Where's my medal of valor? ; )

37.6

2006-03-11T21:30:00.000-07:00

Three days ago, the kidlets had shorts on. Right now, the temperature outside is 37.6 degrees (thank you, weatherbug!). 37.6!!!! And it's pouring...snow, snow, snow! If I wake up tomorrow and there is not a blanket of white stuff all over our very sad patch of grass, I just might run outside in my pajamas and bare feet and yell loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Or I may stay in my nice warm bed and grumble.

When I was growing up, my parents didn't do a ton of stuff to annoy me, but the few things that they did do registered very high on my list. One of these things was the announcement, "We're going to take a drive." Did you parents ever do this? I didn't think so. I think this is inherantly a Bu***ng thing to do. They'd put us in the car (or worse yet, we'd already be out with them running some kind of errand or innocently on the way home from church) and drive us to nowhere. This really lit my fire because I had no control - and obviously being trapped in the car with my family for any amount of time going nowhere wasn't in my to-do list. We'd just drive...and they'd be happy as a pregnant woman with a pint of ice cream. Drive to nowhere, just to see where the road went. Really.

So today, it started snowing near the middle of our little town while DH was gettng himself a bagel (which I can't have, stupid SB Diet!!!!). Without warning, we threw jackets/hats/mittens on the kids and shoved them in their car seats (which don't work very well with jackets/hats/mittens). And we drove. At least we had a purpose: find snow that's sticking to the ground. This took some driving down roads that we'd never been on, way back into hills where DH introduced the children to the phrase "Rednecks & White Trash" (don't worry, I have cleansed them).

Along the way, Boo turned into me. It is still pretty dang amazing that God really clones you in your children. If there was any doubt left in my mind that she is definitely my child, she started in with, "When are we going to get there? Why are we just driving? Where are we going? This road goes nowhere, Daddy. Now Daddy's got us lost. Ohhhhhhh (whine). This is no fun. My mitten fell off. I don't see any snow. Where are we? Daddy can't find the way home now, can he?" for at least 45 minutes. And normally I would've just chalked her comments up to being 5 and anxious to find snow...except that I kept having these eery flashbacks to being trapped in the station wagon with my parents, driving nowhere. I have sympathy for her. And I did what my parents did when my control-freak personality bugged them: I told her to zip it.

Snow, snow, snow!

Droppings

2006-03-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

A skilled biologist or animal guru can identify an animal by its droppings. A hunter could even track an animal for miles by identifying its droppings. A mommy can identify her family members by their droppings, too.

A) Giant cups left on the counter, manila file folders full of documents that aren't in English, clean laundry on the floor, cell phone charger left on the counter, string cheese wrappers on the furniture, the kids' dirty clothes dropped in the middle of the living room because that's where he changed them: these are all droppings from DH.

B) Thousands upon thousands of kleenexes used for only one little swipe upon the nose and then thrown onto the floor, Thomas the Train & his crew lining the grout in the tile, fruit snack wrappers, sippy cups on the tile, puzzle pieces from 9 different puzzles strewn all over the playroom: these are all ways to identify the little man.

C) Dolls, babies, stuffed things, an assortment of crap collected from birthdays/goodie bags/the trash, Hello Kitty blanket left anywhere in the house, piles of colored "messages" or pictures all over the kitchen table, neatly arranged rows of anything (paper, blocks, her sister's toys, the plastic things used to attach tags to clothing...): these say, "Boo Was Here"

D) Puddles of drool, shredded kleenex, my hairbrush in the middle of the living room floor: the baby slithered this way

E) And because life is never dull at our house: Bug Skin. Our ladybug larvae are SHEDDING. It's the craziest thing...everytime I look in there, somebody else has gone and shed their skin and left it. They all crawl around the shed skin and bump into it and check it out to see if its food. Nope, not food...just your buddy's skin. If Boo was a ladybug, she would be in there with an empty kleenex box (her current collection accessory of choice), collecting every one else's shed skin and saving it for later to arrange into neat rows.

What are my droppings? There isn't enough room on a blog.

Happy thought for the day: Mary Poppins is coming next week!!!!! Apparently she's not quitting after all. She must've gotten the message that I wasn't going to LET her. : )

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

2006-03-09T21:35:00.000-07:00

That is one of my very favorite children's books. Alexander and I are kindred spirits.

Today was one of those days.

I know, perfect, happy, ultra-orgnanized moms never have "those" days. Well, I'm not one of "those"moms. Things were relatively under control until everyone decided that nap time should be nonexistant...everyone except Mommy. I had so many phone calls to make, so many appointments to set, so many miles to run on the elliptical - so many things that required nap time. And apparently my children didn't get the memo. The 2 who can walk were in and out of their rooms so much that I thought maybe we'd installed revolving doors on their rooms and I'd just forgotten about it.

I put the baby in the jumpy at 4:30, put the older 2 in front of Jungle Book, and took a 3-minute shower. I daydreamed about being able to fall asleep in the wonderful shower...but no, the curtain was thrown open so that Bub could tell me about the elephant on Jungle Book and how he was sooooooo funny.

I didn't even have clothes on yet when I heard a knock at the front door. You can't really pretend that you're not home to answer the door when 2 of your children run screaming through the house, "THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!!!!!" and plaster themselves to the front window to get a better peek. So, I put my pajamas on. Remember...it's one of "those" kinds of days. I answered the door to find one of my girlfriends, out for a walk with her perfectly content 8-week-old. Her only child. I don't even remember what that's like. I want to be her. I thought briefly about asking her to trade with me until tomorrow morning. Then...she came in...and saw my house. Yes, the house that is in a forever downward spiral; the house that may never recover. And the sad thing is, I just didn't care at that point.

DH came home and wondered why his dinner wasn't ready on time. This is just the best, isn't it? Afterall, his olympic basketball game was tonight and he needed to eat on time so that he could leave me with all of them....again. Ohhhhh wait, it's just the community basketball league. And I really could just care less about if he eats dinner or slops some water from the hose in the backyard because I haven't even been able to *think* about dinner yet. Before you think I'm a terrible wife, and that I should be ravishing when he comes home and have a hot meal on the table, let me just say for the record: THAT ONLY HAPPENS ON TV. And none of the TV families have my children!!!!

The baby ate plaster today. Better than the button I found in her mouth yesterday, but still. Bubby had green boogers all day long. I stubbed my toe so hard that I think it's broken from the way it's swollen and purple. And DH came home after I had all of them in bed tonight, plopped down in front of the TV to watch basketball, and then asked me, "Don't you even want to know how we did tonight?" My mama always said that if I didn't have anything nice to say....

All I wanted to do was sit down and watch Survivor tonight after the kids went to bed. : ( I wish I could take a personal day tomorrow.

Come back to me, Mary!

2006-03-08T21:17:00.000-07:00

I think our cleaning lady quit. Or she's trying to be nice about letting me know that she is going to quit. Are they allowed to do that?! I looked long and hard for her!! Do you know how difficult it is to find a cleaning person who speaks English?! I am starting to freak out a little. I realize she has other customers that are "regulars" - the once a week or once every other week people. We're more of a once-every-3-weeks family, or a OH-MY-GOSH-I-CAN'T-TAKE-IT-ANYMORE-CALL-MARY-POPPINS-NOW! family. And I know she's gotten busy lately. But around Christmas she said to me, "Beth, I'm real busy now, but I don't want to let you go - you were one of my very first customers and I just love your little family and you have a beautiful home, so I am going to do my best to fit you in!"

Ok, so I had to cancel our appointment for today because w/ Bubby being sick...I couldn't pull it together enough to pick up the house so she could come. It's THAT bad. I may never unbury myself this time. Unless my mother-in-law called and said she was coming over. So when I called her yesterday to cancel our appointment, I asked her if we could reschedule for next week. She said she hadn't made her schedule up for next week yet, and that she'd call me when she did. Weird....but ok.

A few hours later she called our house and asked for Cindy. Who the flip is Cindy? I don't know. I told her it was me that she'd called, and she laughed a little and said she'd gotten phone numbers confused. She hung up, and hasn't called me back, and it's been 36 hours!

How can she quit?!? Is my house that bad? I hope it's just that she's too busy. No, I don't hope that. She was mine first!!! She needs to drop one of those dirty house people and come back to me! And here's the clincher: when she quoted me on how much she'd charge us to clean, it was $10 less than what we'd been paying our last cleaner...who I fired. So I told her I would pay her $10 more than what she quoted me just because that's what I'd been paying the other people. So this whole time I've been tipping her $10 every time she comes to clean...and now she's abandoning me?!? I think I might cry! What am I going to do?!?!

I must try and think a happy thought before I completely lose hope about my house. The baby clapped for the first time today! She's way too cute for her own good, and now that she claps on command....the kids are having a blast. The only other happy news I can manage right now? I got the bathrooms cleaned.

Seriously, Mary. You can't quit! I won't let you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our 10 New Pets! (or 11, or 12, or 13?)

2006-03-07T16:43:00.000-07:00

Boo got "Ladybug Land" for her 5th birthday. It's a small plastic dome with little hills and rock formations (Bubby calls them "castles"). You send away for your ladybug larvae, and it arrived yesterday! Only we sort of didn't check the mail yesterday. When I got it this morning, there was our mailing tube with an orange flourescent sticker that says, "OPEN IMMEDIATELY!!". Well, that didn't happen, obviously.

Thank heavens DH was still at home this morning when I brought the tube in the house. Ladybug larvae don't look like cutie little ladybugs. They look like pincher bugs w/out the pinchers. Like the photo? Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside : ). We got a test tube chock full of these bad boys (girls?), along w/ what looked like their molted skin, and tons of little gel balls that are their food and water. I just can't seem to tell if some of them are alive...and I'd hate to think it was because they froze their spots off in our mailbox overnight!

Anyways, even if I don't know how many we have and how many are alive, they're pretty dang cool. They pick up their food with thier little front legs and you can see their bitty heads gnawing on it. Bubby is so attached to them that he carts Ladybug Land around the house, and insisted that they come w/ us to pick up his sister from school today, and into the school too....because what if they got lonely in the car? See how badly my kids need a dog?

Boo tried to get the lid off of the dome today...while laying in my bed. It makes me itch to think about that scenario. I hope that she's emotionally capable of releasing the little bugs when it's time. I'd hate to send her into psychotherapy at 5.

Here's hoping that our larvae live to see red, that none escape, and that my children never figure out that the bug man comes to spray our yard every month. : )

2006-03-06T20:32:00.000-07:00

I was sitting here at the computer for a second tonight when Bubby walked up and stared at me. Before I glanced at him, he hit my elbow. Not hard, but it definitely wasn't a tap either.

"Why did you hit me?"
"Because sometimes you're mean to me and spank my butt," he replied in his adorable 3-year-old talk. Where is this coming from?!?!
"And why does mommy have to spank you sometimes?"
"Because I don't like you and you are mean." Nice!
"No, Mommy has to spank your butt because it's my job to teach you right and wrong. It's not because I'm mean."
"Well, you are."
"Go to your room, Son."
There's a blank look on his face.
"Really. Go into your room."
"Why? Do I get a sad face?" That's the new discipline trick I'm trying out...happy faces for good things, sad faces for disobedience/kicking one's sister/hitting one's mother on the elbow and telling her that you don't like her when she's been up the PAST STINKIN 3 NIGHTS TAKING CARE OF YOU....
"No, you don't get a sad face. You're going to your room because it's not nice to hit your mommy. And I'm not mean."

And if this conversation is not enough to light my fire tonight, we just got back from yet another birthday party. I didn't even look in Boo's goody bag. Apparently I should have, because she & Bubby just got into an argument over who was going to have what candy. Candy? I told her to bring the candy from her bag into the kitchen so that I could put it on the island (and then secretly despise the candy for being in my house since I can't eat it, etc.). She went to her room, and came back a minute later with her nightgown held up like a basket...FILLED with candy!!!!! There's at least 20 pieces of it - big things, like tootsie rolls & Hershey's stuff. What the hay?! I thought goodie bags were supposed to be filled with dumb little trinkets from the 99 cent store. Instead they bought the biggest bag of candy from Costco and just divided it up! I don't think I even put any candy into Boo's goodie bags for her bday party. Was I supposed to?! I am just imagining what would've happened if I hadn't discovered her loot. I'm sure I would've researched her behavior when she was hanging from the ceiling tomorrow, though.

Nothing else fun today...my house is a pit spiraling into further pitdom. There is no escape. But I did get the laundry from the ottoman put away : ).

I'm not really a mean mom, am I?

Wheezer Returns

2006-03-05T13:05:00.000-07:00

Last night...same station...same show. Almost to the second.

3:30 ~ hacking/crying. I try to go back to sleep and convince myself that I was hearing things. But it happens again. And again. And I force myself out of my warm bed with the pillows arranged perfectly.

3:40 ~ It's so hot in the steamy bathroom that we're both sweating. Bubby is still wheezing and coughing, but he's sleeping inbetween coughs.

3:50 ~ I wrap him in a blanket and set him next to the slider that goes out back. It's freezing, and he's shaking, but he lets me feed him fishies so that I can drug him w/ cold medicine. He sounds better.

4:00 ~ back to bed for him, although he insists that Daddy's bed is fun and his isn't. I crawl back into my warm bed with the pillows all messed up from Daddy now. Sweet...wonderful...sleep....

4:15 ~ This isn't happening. I must be imagining that he's barking again. Seriously.

4:20 ~ back into the steamy bathroom

4:35 ~ I'm giving up and laying down in bed w/ him. He lifts his head up to check and see who has crawled into his bed...as if it would be anyone else. He's a pillow hog.

4:45 ~ Back into my bed...praying that this time I can actually not hear barking.

History repeats itself.

Have to admit, I was mildly frustrated with the boy when he came into my room at 7am. I wasn't awake yet, but he was crawling up onto our bed. DH suddenly started yelling.

"Son!!! What are you doing? You're peeing all over the bed!!!! Get off!"

"Peeing what?" I managed with my eyes closed.

"Oh, it's your cup. Ok. Get down, Son."

Thankfully, it was sippy water dripping all over Daddy, and not the other...

He was resting in my bed today while I took a shower and got dressed.

"Mama? You should put on the pink shirt with the stripes," he piped up. He was pointing to a pink ribbed sweater on the dresser.

"Why?" I asked him.

"Because you look beautiful in it, Mama. You look so beautiful."

I don't have the heart to tell him that it's way too hot for sweaters outside.

"I love it when you wear that shirt, Mama. You look pretty."

Kind of makes last night worth it :). I'm never letting him get married.

Obie Academy Awards

2006-03-04T15:03:00.000-07:00

Being that it's the Academy Award season (and I could care less about Academy Awards, really), I figured I would dole out some awards/titles of my own.

Boo: Best Sarcastic Comebacks (award 1) Most Likely to Trip Over Nothing at All (award 2)

Sarah: Best Impersonation of a Sloth-Worm (I know there's no such thing, but it's the only animal combo I can think of to describe her crawling) (award 1) Most Likely to Scream/Wail/Cry if You Leave the Room or Walk so Fast that Keeping Up is Impossible for a Sloth-Worm (award 2)

Bubby: Best Ability to Weasel out of Punishment (the boy has me wrapped, and I'm seriously going to be in a lot of trouble if I can't get over how adorable & wonderful he is) (award 1) Most Likely to Have Croup (award 2)

So, because he doesn't like to disappoint, Croup Boy made his bi-monthly appearance last night. As usual, there was no warning at all. I woke up at 3:30 to the horrible barking (his cough) and half-sobs (hard to cry when you can't breathe, ya know). To say that I'm WAY sick of the poor boy having croup is the biggest understatement of my life.

We did the steamy bathroom trick. We did the freeze-your-hiney-off-outside-and-breathe-cold-air trick. I prayed. Daddy prayed. Wheezer just kept up his routine, although at least the seal bark was gone. Daddy tried the bathroom again because...well, what else is there to do at 4am? Oh yeah, sleep. Well, sleep was lacking at the Obie house last night.

I gave up and started dressing him. The folks at the ER, which is no short jaunt away, will probably think I'm an idiot. She's probably a first-time mom...what a rookie, they'll think. They're all so hypersensitive and freak out when it's JUST croup. Then I'll get the standard questions:
Did you try having him breathe steam?
Did you have a humidifier in his room?
Did you try cold night air?
How long has he been like this?
Are you sure you're fit to be a mother?
Are you sure you're not over-reacting?

K, maybe not the last 2. Regardless, the last couple of times that he's had croup badly, we've needed a breathing treatment and some 'roids. And yes, I'm afraid that the steroids will somehow cause him to turn into a little man faster than he should! But that's beside the point. It's also true that the last couple of times I've sat in that ER for HOURS, he's done with the croup. No more barking, no more Wheezer.

I finished half-dressing him in the steamy bathroom and threw some jeans on myself. I put Wheezer in the truck and sped down the road, because no one else is dumb enough to be up at 4:30am on a Saturday. Today was supposed to be my monthly Let Mommy Sleep In day, too. Whatever.

Wheezer was barely raspy at all by the time we walked into the ER. 6 people were ahead of us, and they were all sleeping in their chairs, like they'd been here a long time. Perfect. Nurse asks the standard questions, does Bubby's pulse-ox and declares that his oxygen saturation is 98%. Of course it is. He's been wheezing for 2 hours now, and he's all better!

We wait anyways. Bubby is half sleeping on me, and I'm resting my cheek on his head. The man across the room is snoring way too loudly. It's been an hour, and nobody has been called in yet. In my half-sleep, someone is pinching my nose closed. My eyes flash open to find him grinning.

"I got your nose, Mommmy! I got your nosssseeeee!"

Terrific! Not only is he not wheezing anymore, but now he's wide awake and ready to party in the ER. I decide that we are going home, and maybe I can get 30 more minutes of sleep before the baby makes her 6:30 debut. The drive home was hard, and Bubby was asleep. I was trying hard to keep my eyes open - our house was only half a block away, and a coyote rushes out in front of the truck. I swerved just in time. I didn't even tell DH how close I was to crashing the truck because he would've just told me to hit the thing. A) I love animals, not going to happen if I can help it. B) I hardly think he wants to clean coyote guts off of the truck, even though we haven't washed the thing since 2001 and it could use a bath.

DH was so wonderful that he let me sleep until 10. I hope Croup Boy doesn't show up again tonight. I don't think DH would let me have Mommy Sleep In Day again until April.

What's my award? Oh, that's easy. Best at Everything

*snicker*

Pop Tarts

2006-03-03T21:52:00.000-07:00

Uncle Chad had just sat down in the recliner to eat his breakfast (a strawberry Pop Tart) when Little Vulcher and Little Leech appeared.

"What's that, Uncle Chad? I can have some. But Mommy says no cookies. What is that?" pipes up Little Leech.

Quick on his toes and not about to give up his breakfast, my brother says, "Just a little snaaack. That's all. Uncle Chad's just having a little snack."

Little Vulcher is dancing on her tip toes. "What's it taste like? It smells....like...what's it smell like?"

"It's spinach and peppers...you wouldn't like it. See that in there? It's spinach and peppers."

"Ewwww! We don't like that," Little Vulcher bounces.

"No, mommy says no peppers. But what's it taste like?" The Little Leech isn't about to give up that easily.

"Ohhhhhhh, it's got a KICK to it, " Uncle Chad says, adding way too much drama to the statement.

"Like spicy? We don't like spicy," Little Vulcher twirls, and then leans in on the arm of the chair for a better look at his Pop Tart.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah. It's really spicy. All those peppers, it's spicy. With a bang to it! You've got to have a tough tongue to take it. See? Look at my tongue. (Leech and Vulcher lean in for a very close look.) It's a strong tongue. I don't think your tongues could take it. Whew!"

"When are we going to play ball, Uncle Chad?"

"As soon as I clean up my spinach and peppers. Might need a drink here of this cold stuff now because my tongue is woooooooo weeeeeeee spicy."

They love Uncle Chad more than me, more than M&M's, more than getting to jump on my bed. It's sick and wrong, I tell ya. One day I will fill them in on how twisted he is! :o)

I had pizza today. 3 times. Yes, after almost 2 months of starving myself (AKA South Beach Diet), I really, really needed food today. I also really, really need to start my period. So to make myself feel better, I am posting a first: inches lost. I don't know exactly what my measurements were when I first started, but today marks one month of taking measurements. I measured 8 places on my heffalump body, so take that into consideration....I've lost 21.5 inches. AND WOULD MY HUSBAND SAY ANYTHING? No. Thank goodness our best friends at least said they could tell. But if they were lying, I don't want to know about it!

And lastly, because my morale needed a kick tonight....I was reading to Boo at bedtime. She was half sitting in my lap. She interrupted me.

"Mommmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! You're poking me! It's scratching! Ouch, what's wrong with your legs?"

Ok. Today was day #3 without a shower and I only took one because my mother insisted that I should. Sorry I'm not supermom like her and I don't get up at 6am to get showered and beautiful before the kids wake up ; ). Not that I don't love that you empty the dishwasher at 6:30am and do laundry at 11pm, Mom. Seriously...like I have time to shave my legs when I can barely get a shower! I'm lucky to slop some soap around, get my hair wet and grab a towel before one of them throws the curtain back to ask a life-altering question like, "When is snack? I'm hungry."

2006-03-02T21:07:00.000-07:00

My day started at 2:30am.

That would be when my brother showed up at our door. I was tempted to tell him there was no room at the inn, but he is flesh and blood, and I suppose I owe him for all the years that I mercilessly tortured him. He's in town for a couple of days (ok, 36 hours) and the kids went ballistic when they woke up to find him asleep on the couch. Bubby was so impressed he said, "But I didn't hear him unlock the door, Mommy! It's just like Santa Claus!"

I pretty much didn't go back to sleep after that, so I feel like I've been inhaling white board marker all day...that cloudy feeling. So, was it sheer stupidity that led me to take all 3 children into the little toy store we have in town? Pretty much. We have about 1,438 birthday parties to attend in the next week and I had to knock some of those presents out today.

So here's the fun part: I saw a scam! A real scam!! Just like the kind on TV! I had taken my loot up to the only register (with the only employee at it) to check out. They wrap presents for free here, and I'm all about that...so girlfriend got busy wrapping my presents. Now, the thing to understand about our little town is that it's pretty much composed of upper-middle class white people. It's really easy to pick out somebody who is just passing through, or who is one of the construction guys, etc. While I was waiting at the counter, one of these people walked into the toy store.

He smelled...bad. Like alcohol & cheap cologne and dirty clothes. Not so good for someone who feels like she's been inhaling the white board marker. He asked wrapper-girl if they had balloons, and she told him no...but that a store up the road did. Duh, the grocery store does, too...and that happens to be right across the street. But I was giving him the benefit of the doubt so far. He was carrying cash in his hand and bounced around nervously while we tried to give him directions to the store that was just half a mile away...in a small town. It's not like we've got that many streets. He was bounching a little too close to the baby in her stroller, and I was afraid she'd start smiling at him or grab for him and then I'd have to make him feel stupid by rolling her away.

He accepted our directions, and walked further into the store to "look for stuff". I craned my neck around to peek at the older 2 kids to make sure he wasn't going near them. He had trouble written in fuschia marker on his forehead. Within 20 seconds he was standing behind me again, waiting to check out w/ his purchase.....a candy necklace that couldn't have cost more than $1.

I told him to go ahead of me, because wrapper-girl was taking forever and five days and I really couldn't stand smelling him anymore. He politely declined until I insisted and moved out of the way. Wrapper girl rang up his candy necklace and I wandered several feet away so that I could breathe. I didn't catch the whole conversation. I did hear them exchange a few weird remarks - like he'd given her too much money, and he wanted his $20 bill back, etc. Wrapper girl sounded flustered and gave him the $20 back. When he finally left, another customer who had come up to the counter while this was going on, said, "Honey, I really hope he didn't just scam you."

Wrapper-girl was frantically searching the counter and register. "I can't find that other $20 bill! Where did it go? I'm so confused right now."

Scam-o-rama.

I'm sure her boss won't be doing a happy dance. Yeah it was only $20 and the place is so dang overpriced that it won't hurt them that much, but I still feel angry that somebody did that to her. It was like he'd cased the place, figured out that it was small, and assumed that I was too stupid of a customer to speak up if I figured out what he was doing. Smelly, yucky man.

I'm seriously going to sleep in about 30 seconds.

Princesses & Pee Pee

2006-03-01T23:24:00.000-07:00

My motto for the day: make it 'til 9pm. It's now 11:30 and I'm JUST sitting down to blog. What does that say about my day?

Victory #1: The boy pee peed IN THE BIG POTTY!!!!!!!!!!!!! Twice! I think I hear angels singing. Of course, I made him pretend he was riding a horse (sitting backwards on the big potty)...which made him ask, "Mama, can I fit down that hole?" (meaning where the water, etc. goes). Now I know why he was scared! I don't blame him. I read a story once about a lady who had accidentally flushed while on an airplane toilet & it suction-cupped her to the seat and she had to buzz a flight attendant for help! I thought those kinds of things only happened to me.

Victory #2: I am the Pretty Pretty Princess reigning champion! I whipped her hiney two out of 3 games. If you haven't played Pretty Pretty Princess, you really must. It is delicious to wear the crown and announce that you are, in fact, the pretty pretty princess. Or, in Bubby's case...the Handsome, Handsome Prince (I couldn't tell him that he wasn't allowed to play! DH wasn't home...he'll never know!). "Yes, dear, your son wore plastic earrings today and looked dashing in his bead necklace..."

It's the little victories that keep me going : ). It's also the thought of bed...I'll get to go to bed tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that.....

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

2006-02-28T15:18:00.000-07:00

Where *do* kids learn to lie? I mean, I've thought long and hard, and I can't recall sitting down w/ my oldest child and explaining to her how to lie. Is it just the example that we set as adults? I mean, I did lie to her in the bathroom a couple of weeks back when she wanted to know what the red marks on my tummy were (see the post below!).

Last night we had a volunteer from a dog rescue organization come to our house to interview us and make sure we had a wall in the backyard, etc. DH is definitely not diggin' on the dog idea, but what choice does he have, really? : ) So the volunteer walks in the front door, and after being in our home for all of 4 minutes, says, "Wow, all these kids and you want to add a dog to the family?! You are a brave, brave woman."

Ok, lady, shut your mouth before you give DH more ammo on why I don't need a dog!
So, I lied.
"It's really not that hard! I mean, once you just realize that you do your best to meet everybody's needs and keep telling yourself that being overwhelmed will only make things worse...really, I'm so used to the toys and the potty training and the diapers and the noise...it's just not as difficult as it looks."

What? I didn't want for her to walk out of our house and tell me that I can't have one of their golden retrievers. Seriously!

So, back to Boo, who lied to me today. This isn't the first time. I think it's the 3rd or 4th. And she knows the consequences - she's had them fully explained and demonstrated a time or 2.

I heard her wail from the playroom while I was feeding the baby. It was a scream/cry, and I knew she meant business. I ran in there as fast as I could and found her holding her head with giant tears streaming down her cheeks. "What happened?!" I half yelled.

She managed to blurt, "He hit me on the head with one of his trains!" (And ya know that had to hurt, and it's also not the first time he's done it to her....and it's usually because she provoked him.).

I sent him to his room so that I didn't give in to the temptation to knock him on the head w/ one of the trains to show him how it felt (kidding!!! I wouldn't do it!). Once she was done crying, I asked her, point blank, what she had done to make him mad.

"Nothing," she said.

So I tried again. "You mean you didn't do a thing to him? You didn't take one of his trains? You didn't say something mean?"

"No, he just hit me!" *sniff, sniff*

I got her the Owie Bear for her head and went to interview the anger management child in his room. Turns out, his big sister hit him on the leg...although I didn't bother to ask why. I called her into his room.

"Did you hit your brother?"
"No, Mommy."
"He says you hit him on the leg. Did you do it?"
"No, Mommy."
"Are you telling me the whole truth?"
"Well, he was using the train I wanted and..."
Seriously. Who taught her to lie??? It was off to the bathroom for her, with the age old remedy that my mother used on me: lotion soap. She HATES it. So did I. I swore I hated my mother when she washed my mouth out. Nothing would make me angrier. But it taught me a good lesson, and I really hope Boo picks up on this soon.

"Mommy? Jesus doesn't like it when we lie. It's a sin."
"Yes, Boo. Maybe you should tell God that you're sorry."

Maybe I should wash my own mouth out for last night. Mom? Feel like driving up?

Viva Las Vegas

2006-02-25T09:07:00.000-07:00

The fountains at the Bellagio were "performing" to Elvis' "Viva Las Vegas" on our last night there. I actually felt like singing along (how can't you with such a fun song?). Mommy vacation time was splendid, even if it was spent on another planet. Vegas is what I'm referring to, of course. When you're there, it's almost as if somebody flew you to an airport on another planet...from the time you get off the plane and see slot machines every 2 feet, to the time you hop off the interterminal shuttle and see a 12 foot poster of a not-exactly-clothed man advertising the "Thunder Down Under", to the baggage claim area...complete with dozens of advertisements with barely-clothed-man's best friends - the barely-clothed-skanky-women, and all the entertainers you thought had vanished from the face of earth. Only they didn't vanish, they just relocated to the new planet.

I have been known to say that I hate Vegas. And that was after only one trip last year; we stayed at the Bellagio for DH's work thingy and I was very very very pregnant. There's a pre-requisite to visiting Vegas: you must be able to walk about 12.5 miles a day (and another 5- 7 after the sun goes down). This little requirement doesn't mix well with a woman who is toting an 8-lb baby around and has ankles the size of an elephant's, ya know. Preggo women don't mix well with casinos, either. Not only do you get bumped and knocked around, but there is hardly enough oxygen in there for one person, let alone if you're breathing for 2. I came home so sick that I was sure I'd caused the baby to grow 3 eyes. I have a horrible smoke allergy, which didn't help at all. I hate Vegas. Anyways, I could've cared less if we ever went back to the place. But our best friends from WA were headed there for kidless time, and we couldn't resist.

From the time we left home, I was convinced we'd forgotten something. You know that feeling...where you're sure it was something very important that you can't live without, but ya just can't remember. Well, I remembered. It wasn't until we were on the jetway. I realized that it's been forever since we've been in an airport without kids/strollers/sippies/diaper bags/backpacks/half of Toys-R-us/enough snacks to feed the army's 3rd regiment/etc. And all I had was my purse and bottle of water!!! I wish I could describe this feeling. It's a combination of a panicked "Oh my GOSH I forgot the kids!" and elated, "Oh my GOSH I didn't have to bring the kids!!".

So since I wasn't carting around my preggo belly this time, we walked. I don't know exactly how far, but the way my body aches...it was a lot. I think we saw every hotel, every casino (which I still hate), every white tiger, every overly-priced store in Caesar's (3 times), and every little Mexican handing out porn that I could ever want to see. That wasn't a racist comment, it's merely the truth. They put their little headphones on, slap their porn advertisements to get your attention, and shove them at your husband. Yes, reach over the wife to get to the husband. At first I just said "Go away!" to them. Then I was bolder and shoved myself between DH and them and said, "HE'S MARRIED." Then it was, "FIND A REAL JOB!". And then there was 2 nights ago when I'd had ENOUGH. And this particular group of hander-outters was aggressive. They didn't just reach over the wife, they stepped in front of you to make you LOOK at their little porn crap and pretty much shove one into your face. My feet hurt, it was cold, and I was tired...and I wasn't about to deal with one more porn pimp. So I made myself tall (which is a lot taller than these little passer-outters), and walked straight for the group of them and went off. I'm sure they didn't understand one word of what I said, but it felt good anyways. The people in front of us turned around and laughed at me...the wife even clapped : ). Seriously...are the LV police *that* busy that they let these guys litter the streets of the city with their stuff? I understand it's not illegal if they don't hand it out to minors, but I'm sure if they tried hard enough they'd find it being passed out to whoever opens their hand (and for the record, the only person I saw take one of their little cards was a homeless guy). I have decided I am NOT taking our son there. Ever.

So anyways, we're back on our planet now and breathing clean air and missing our best friends again. At least everyone on our planet wears a good amount of clothing and goes to sleep at some point every 24 hours. It was fun, but only because our friends were with us. And the kids weren't. Viva Las Vegas...just not anytime again soon. : )

I am actually running away this time!!!!!

2006-02-20T23:49:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's true...it's mommy break time. I've even been promised a massage at a spa!! I know, I'm in shock too. More at the thought of a stranger seeing me naked and then actually touching me, but the torment will be worth it (I think). We are meeting up w/ our best friends for a few days...minus the kids. I'm nearly ecstatic! Sort of. : ) I procrastinated packing/shopping/etc. until today. More on that in a sec after I whine. So now it's 11:51, and I'm typing instructions to the grandmas who will be doing my job for a while. My job description happens to be almost 8 pages long. How's that for feeling important? I always knew it. ; ) I'm also still doing laundry, and still haven't packed one bit. Looks like tomorrow morning should be a blast. The only thing I'm dreading is leaving the baby. I wish she could come : (. We left Anneke when she was 10 mos old, but only for one night. It's terrible to think that I can't hold her and love her when I want to. Ok, I might cry. Enough sap.

So today I had to vacate the house for 2.5 hours while my blessed angel-in-training, the cleaning lady, Mary-Poppinsed my house. I love that woman almost as much as I love chocolate. She even does my baseboards! There is no finer creature. Anyways, w/ all the kids in tow, we headed for...where else?... the mall. I had to buy some bras. Perfect activity w/ the kids : ). We hadn't been in the Bali store (which is wall-to-wall bras) more than 4 minutes before Sarah had pulled several bras off and into the stroller and was working on a thong when I caught her. Anneke laughed and announced, "Sarah! Don't grab the boobies!!" The saleslady laughed, but I could tell she thought I was CRAZY. Then she was silly enough to ask me if I wanted to try the bras ON. Funny, but I didn't know Bali offered babysitting services while mommies tried on bras. Ohhhhhh wait, they don't. Nevermind.

So then we cruised on over to the other side of the store to look at pajamas. Now, I don't even know what the name of this kind of lingerie is, but it's the kind that fits over your boobies and midsection and then has little straps to hook to your thigh-high nylons (?). Like I'd ever wear that (like one would ever fit me!!)! The boy in our company, who isn't old enough to realize that I'm probably scarring him for life by forcing him to go bra shopping, then announces, "Mommy! Look at the pretty dress! You would look like a princess. Mommy, get the dress!" as he points at the sleezy almost-a-hooker looking lingerie. I love that boy. He is going to make some woman very happy one day!

Our trip to the bra store wouldn't be complete without Anneke running the length of the store, hitting every bra as she went, yelling, "BOOBIE! BOOBIE!BOOBIE!" My family is nothing if not entertaining in the bra store.

My mother is a brave woman. I've finished printing my job description. I hope she doesn't quit when she sees it! :o)

Bathroom questions

2006-02-19T08:18:00.000-07:00

I admit, the jeans I wore yesterday were still a *little* too tight. But I was so excited to finally be able to wear them (they're a size smaller than what I'd been last month, but I'm still trying to hold in my excitement since I still have 4 more sizes to lose...). They weren't the kind of tight that I couldn't sit or breathe or was worried than one of my organs might be permenantly deformed. They were just a little snug around my waist.

Boo & I spent 3 hours at Old Navy, Target, and then the mall, trying to find me an outfit that didn't scream, "I'm a preschool mommy whoh doesn't take a shower every day". It was not so fun for me, and I'm sure she would've preferred to organize her sock drawer (seriously, she's that weird).

We had to make a mad dash for the potty, which was halfway across the mall. We half-jogged most of the way there while I begged her to try and hold it and I'd get her a cookie (yeah, I bribed her). After she did her business, I took a turn. When I stood up, she said, "Mommy, why is there red on your tummy?" Do I say, "Oh, God just made mommies that way!" which was my answer to her the time she asked a rather intimate question very LOUDLY in a public restroom at a truck stop? Or just be the model mommy and be honest..."Mommy is actually just a little too fat for these jeans still, honey!"

Neither. I remembered some advice that my friend Bridget had given me. I just buttoned my only-a-little-tight jeans and said, "I don't know, honey!"

The stupid scale said that I'd gained 1/2 pound this morning. Even after I'd jumped off and on it a dozen times, hoping it would change it's mind. (I know you've done that too!) WhatEVER.

I LIKE the Chlorine in my water!

2006-02-18T08:17:00.000-07:00

Well, missed a day on the blog...I hope all of your lives went on without too much distress ; ).

So yesterday I got the kids' Valentine's pictures taken. Better late than never! It takes roughly 4 hours to get them down to the mall, get the pictures taken, wait for the they'd-better-have-turned-out pictures to be developed, and then drive home. So when we pulled into our garage at 2pm, I was ready for the blessed naptime ritual to begin. Could I be so lucky? Yeah, right.

I'd gotten Anneke out of her car seat, and had just unbuckled Bubby when a white truck-van thing pulled up in front of our driveway. The name said OPremium Waters on it...Irish water? So, a guy gets out (we'll call him OWaterBoy from now on) and my 6th sense turns on. Is he a psycho here to attack us in the garage and then rob my house? I'm glaring at him now because he doesn't just walk up our driveway, he walks INTO THE GARAGE, and stands within 2 feet of me (I am still right next to the car because Sarah's still in her carseat).

OWaterBoy: Hello, M'am! M'am? Since when did I become my mother? How are you today? Get the heck out of my garage before I go hit the panic button on the house alarm, water boy.

Me: Fine, thanks. Cue the kids to run into the driveway, because mom is busy and & why shouldn't they have a free-for-all? I yell at them to get back into the garage and they just stare at me.

OWaterBoy: We're just here in the neighborhood to see how you like your water. Are you happy with it? Do you guys drink a lot of water? Well gee, Skippy, we live in the flippin desert, so uhhhhm, yeah...the water gets drunk at our house.

Me: Look, we have an RO system, and the water is fine. Now I've really got to...

OWaterBoy: Did you know that RO systems are going to be made illegal in AZ & NV? They just waste so much money in the filtration process blah blah blah blah blah...Water Boy has 2 earrings. Each ear has a hoop. My gosh, he really is a freak. He's going to try to get into my house! Have you ever seen the water test, m'am? Where they show you what kind of chemicals are in your water?

Me: No, but I'm sure that whatever chemicals are in our water are ok. Now the kids have the Barbie radio from the jeep blaring Spanish music.

OWaterBoy: Well, hey...let me go get the kit from the truck and I'll just show you.

Me: Uhm, no. With the 3 kids, it's just not going to work today.

OWaterBoy: Hey, they can help! It'd be great! You want to give my kids chemicals to play with?

Me: No, really. Look, if you want to leave your card or whatever...I'm getting the baby out of the car now, hoping he'll LEAVE!

OWaterBoy: Oh! You've got a baby too! Well that's a lot of formula! Ohhhhhhhhhhhh my word. I yell at the big kids to get to the door.

OWaterBoy: Well, can I get your phone # to set up an appt? I admit, I gave him a fake one. Anyone with 2 hoop earrings whose sales pitch involves bothering mommies w/ 3 kids in their garage is not getting the digits. Freak boy. Let me leave you these 2 sample bottles of water blah blah blah blah blah...

Ok, seriously. Seriously! I'm calling the OWater people today and complaining about him. That makes me a mean person, I know. But did he really think that I'd buy water from him?

The pictures turned out pretty good considering I had to go through 4 hours at the mall and a garage sales attack. : )

2006-02-16T23:00:00.000-07:00

If I was my wide-awake, lovely self, I would've meant to type that I can only run the dishwasher or bake something in the oven or do the laundry from 9pm - 9am. : ) Not 9am - 9pm.

Whatever. Stupid APS man.

Wazoo

2006-02-16T22:39:00.000-07:00

I can offically say that I have laundry up the wazoo. What is a wazoo? I dunno. What I do know is that if my family wants to eat/pay our mortgage/have clothes to wear, I must only do the laundry from 9am - 9pm. Otherwise, we pay more than double on our electric bill (what a bright idea to conserve energy, APS). Obviously, a man thought this stupid idea up. I'm blaming him for the fact that I have to stay up until 11pm at night in order to get a load of laundry in and dried and (halleluja) maybe even folded.

Herein lies the problem. Our couch and ottoman are covered in folded laundry. The kids are asleep (where I should be, stupid APS man), so I can't very well go in there and put their laundry away. I'm bitter. And I'm sort of beyond the point of being able to see the couch or ottoman anymore. Maybe if we just moved some sort of boxes out in the living room, the kids could just live out of them. Kind of like how I live out of the clean piles of laundry on my bedroom floor. : ) And DH lives out of the dirty pile in the middle of the closet (shhhhh...).

Tonight I went to Bible study (yes, I am that godly this week). And there was a whole 4 of us there! When you count me + 3 kidlets, that would be 4. All that dumb algebra in high school paid off, eh? I pushed and shoved and wrangled and even yelled to get the kids out the door in time....and we were the only ones there. And they ate brownies. AND I COULDN'T HAVE ANY!

Which leads me to about the only bright spot in my day: I finally hit 20 pounds gone. And has anybody that I know said anything? No. This can only be due to the fact that I am comparable to a beluga whale and it will take a lot more than 20 lbs for somebody to notice! Baby Beluga in the deep blue sea, you swim so far and your swim so free... Yeah, ok...but this beluga won't be getting in a bathing suit for another 30 more pounds. Want to know what's littering my house right now? The remnants of 2 birthday cakes (ok, one piece that I'm saving for Micah whenever he decides to eat his dinner, but it's still here!), rice krispy treats (thanks, Mom), enough chocolate that you could call me Mrs. Wonka, and rocky road ice cream (compliments of DH who swears he has lost 4 pounds in the last 2 weeks on his "diet"). I have had to undergo 2 birthday parties w/ my FAVORITE cake, pizza at both of them, and now Valentine's Day, and I AM BEGINNING TO LOSE MY MIND! I haven't touched any of it. Did you get that? I had to go through Valentine's Schmalentine's without any pickin chocolate!!!!!!! And then to have to think that the Safeway people were setting up the chocolate bunnies for Easter today....I may need some physical restraints.

I think the washer is finally done with it's one lousy load. Time for me to go put some more laundry in the dryer so I can add to the piles on the couch/ottoman/up the wazoo. I think I may fire off an email to the stupid APS man. I wonder if he has a wife, and what she thinks of his 9 to 9 idiot plan!

I know. I'm cranky. And I'm going to bed.

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

2006-02-15T11:01:00.000-07:00

Jaci says I should blog this event, so here goes.

I pride myself on multi-tasking. In fact, I've been known to berade my DH because he can't, and I can : ). It's a mommy skill that's inborn...you can take care of the kids, cook dinner, watch TV, talk on the phone, throw a load of laundry in, and chew gum at the same time. Last night before DH got home with our romantic Valentine's take-out pizza, I was leaving a message on Jaci's machine. Anneke and the baby were on the floor, 5 feet from me. I watched her put something in the baby's mouth.

"What did you put her in mouth??"

Nothing but a OH-MY-GOSH-I'M-IN-TROUBLE-MOMMY-SAW-WHAT-I-DID look.

"WHAT DID YOU PUT IN HER MOUTH????" By now I'm freaking out.

Pick up the baby, pry her mouth open. Refrain from screaming something at Anneke to the effect of, "I'm going to beat you senseless if you don't tell me what's in here!"

Sarah is coughing. "TELL ME WHAT'S IN HER MOUTH NOWWWWW!!!!!"

There's tears in her eyes now, and I think she's honestly sorry that she did it, not just that she got caught. This isn't allaying my anger yet. "It was a shiny star from my butterfly."

Forget that I don't know what the heck she's talking about. "GET IN YOUR ROOM!!!!" I have to make her go there, more for her sake than for mine because I'm still tempted to...well, use your imagination.

I can see a little gold foil star-shaped thing on Sarah's tongue, but I can't get it. Nothing is working. I start to imagine what the call to the pediatrician is going to sound like. "Yes, Dr., my 5-year-old put a shiny star in my baby's mouth while I watched and now I think she swallowed it."

Sarah isn't choking, and she's more mad at me for sticking my finger all over her mouth than anything else. I set her down and find our spankin' spoon because...yes, her butt will remember what happens when we put things in our little sister's mouth. The worst part is yet to come.

"Mommmyyyyyyy I have to go potty!" she screams/wails from her bedroom, where I've sequestered her until dinner because I'm still mad.

"Fine, GO." As I pass by her bathroom, I hear, "Mommy, you don't love me anymore!!" more hysterical tears, etc. etc.

Ok, I'm mad. Really mad. But those kind of comments just dig at me. As much as we tell her that she'll never do anything so bad that we won't love her anymore, she isn't catching on. Sometimes I forget that she's as fragile as she is, because she doesn't act fragile. She's sassy, smart, and independent (sound like her mama?). So I hug her for a long time, and make her apologize to her sister (who just laughs at her), and end her jail time.

Does this mean that I don't multi-task as well as I thought I did?

Valentine's Schmalentine's

2006-02-14T14:56:00.000-07:00

I hated Valentine's Day in high school. I actually don't think I ever had a boyfriend over the 14th. Ever. My parents used to get me fun little stuff, but it's not the same when you see the dumb cheerleaders walking around with their 14 mylar balloons and dozen roses and stuffed bears. Gag me. You know her boyfriend just spent all the money he earned at his pizza delivery job for the last 4 years. I think the past has tainted me. I mean, I'm all for the flowers & cards, and I love getting the kids cute little candy hearts. But I just can't get all wrapped up in the hyped emotion of it.

I'm tired. Very tired...like the kind of tired where just getting up from the chair to refill your water is a task comparable to walking across the Sahara desert. I think it's just from the busy-ness of the last few days. Anneke's party was last night, and it was soooooo very fun. She loved every minute, and it was well worth the fortune that it cost. And the mommies weren't even that bad! Of course, half of them left (yes, left the premesis) to go run errands or go home or whatever it is they had to do. Seriously...you left your kid in a big strange place w/ people he doesn't know! And didn't even leave your cell number in case we needed you! Did I have "FREE BABYSITTING" taped on my forehead?

Anyways, my DH wanted to go out to dinner tonight, but I just don't think I have it in me. It all ties back into me feeling blah about Valentine's Day. The effort required to actually take a shower, find something to wear, drive 40 minutes, get the kids to grandma & grandpa's....no. What for?! So we can sit and wait 2 hours for a table and then scarf our food because it's the kids' bedtime and if we don't get home on time the baby will be screaming? I wonder if that makes me a bad wife. I think I've given up on the romantic side of our relationship because the 3 kidlets are cramping my style : ). I would rather take a nap.

Valentine's, Schmalentine's.

The best part of the day? Micah's t-shirt. It says "LADIES MAN"! heh heh

2006-02-13T15:33:00.001-07:00

There's a book that sits on our potty (c'mon, I know other people have books on their potties too). It's called "Help, Mommy's Locked in the Bathroom". Like I ever have time to read it! I just like the cartoon illustration on the front - it's a mommy suction cupped to a door w/ a panic stricken look on her face. It comforts me to know that cartoon mommy knows how I'm feeling! I snuck into the bathroom (for obvious reasons) this morning. I hadn't been in there more than 15 seconds when the birthday girl (she's 5 today!!!!) bounced in with, "Mommy, since the sun is so bright, I need my umbrella." (She has an obsession w/ her new Hello Kitty umbrella that Gran & Papa got her.) "Ok, dear. I'll be out in a minute."

10 seconds later...

"Mommy!!! I will shoot you!" It's Micah, and he has his Rescue Heroes firetruck. It has these little water spout spray looking plastic pieces, about 3 inches long, and they "fire" out the back of the truck. He fires one off, straight at me. Since I'm in the process of standing up, it bounces off of me. My first thought: I'm going to have to stick my hand in the toilet water to get his stupid toy. I know you're jealous.

It's not in the potty, though. It's also not on the floor. "Where did it go, Micah??" I'm getting frustrated now because I would really prefer to just pull my pants up and move on with the day. "Mommyyyyyyyy!! Where'd it goooooo?" Micah's irritated now, too. Nothing on the floor. Nothing in my shirt. It vanished, that's the only answer. Micah's looking at his shirt now, too. Wretched water spout thing!!!! Forget it, I'm going to put my underwear and pants back on now....except that there's a water spout plastic thing in my underwear.

Maybe I should've locked the bathroom door.

Tonight is Anneke's party...yippeeeee : ). I'm excited to watch her interact with all of her little friends. Not so excited to have to get out of my comfort zone and be outgoing to all her little friends' parents, though. It'd be easier if I knew that some of the picture perfect mommies had plastic water spout thingys in their underwear sometimes, too.

Micah-isms

2006-02-12T13:22:00.000-07:00

These are my favorite Micah-isms (thought I'd add them before I forget since he's full of em today):
1) Mommy, IIIIIIIIIIIII love you.
2) Mommy, you look beautiful. You look like a princess. (<--did I mention that the boy OWNS my heart?)
3) You're my special girl/mommy.
4) I just wanted to give you 2 kisses & 2 hugs.
5) Mommy, I need neminems. (neminems as in the chocolate candy) ;)
6) Coke! Diet Coke! Cherry Coke! Cokey Coke!
7) Jesus is so sweet to me.

My first blog...

2006-02-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

As if I have time for this. Really! But maybe this will motivate me to keep a record of our kids' mishaps, triumphs, and altogether hilarious moments, if nothing else.

Let's get down to the truth: I was up most of the night with Sarah, who is producing more snot right now than an animal who needs a mucous lining. She was up about every 30 minutes, and gets to nap all morning to make up for it. Where is the mommy nap time, exactly? This is something I return to in my unanswered questions a lot. Who the heck came up with kid nap time, daddy nap time, grandpa nap time...and left the mommy out?! Best of all, if Micah or Sarah passes their germ-infested snot off to me, and I am the mucous queen...why don't I get a nap?!?

Pee-pee is staining my grout. This is a huge problem in our house right now. I suppose it could be worse - the carpet could be turning into a toilet. How *do* I get the boy to point it in the potty? I heard about the Cheerio thing - telling the boy to aim at it. But it's a little hard to see the cheerio in the potty chair. And he won't sit on the big potty, despite my bribes. I'm tempted to just let him run outside and use the back lawn. What would it hurt? It'd keep my tile clean. And Sarah has pee pee radar. She knows when he's gone all over the floor instead of aiming in the potty. She speed races over there. The backyard would really solve a lot of problems. And I wouldn't have to disinfect Sarah when she uses the potty chair cup thingy as her chew toy.

On an up note, I've starved myself so well the last 3 weeks that I've lost 15 pounds as of this morning! Well, 20 days. I suppose I should clarify that I'm not STARVING myself, I'm just not eating anything that tastes remotely good. This included turning down Anneke's birthday cake with the oohhhhhh so yummy buttercream frosting that I normally would've just licked off of a corner piece. I deserve some sort of tropical vacation for not touching the stuff, espcially since 7/8 of the dang sheet cake sat in our house all last night. I sent the rest w/ her to church today. Hopefully those kidlets can finish the thing off.

So blog #1 is done. No doubt it's time to go clean up more pee pee.