...And I Feel Fine...

I know, I know.....TWO blog posts in one day.  While this is unusual for me, but when the situation presents its self, I must act.  Perhaps someday I will be one of those blog gals who can write all my posts for one week while I'm waiting for the floors to dry on a Sunday afternoon, but for now, you get me on a "right here, right now" basis.

The Husband offered to keep The Little Boy while I was working tonight.  Actually, my exact words were, "I'm taking the older two with me to work.  If you think I'm taking that naughty non-nap taking 3yo, you have another thing coming, okay honey?".

On the way to the Y, The Boy was fiddling with the radio.  Normally NOBODY messes with my radio stations, but tonight, he asked nicely & agreed to not turn the volume up, so we were good.  He stopped at a station that was playing some 80's tunes; this made me happy.  He started singing along to REM's "It's The End Of The World As We Know It", & asked me if I knew all the words.  Why yes, of course, who DOESN'T know all the words, right??  The Girl piped up from the backseat & said, "is this song an oldie, Mom?". I told them that I've known this song for a very long time; that it's one of my all time favorites.  The Boy asked, "well, just how old is it?".  I told him it was about 25 years old.  That's when he stated, "wow, I was barely in kindergarten then". WHAT?!?!?  I told him that he wasn't even born; wasn't even a twinkle in any one's eye; was nowhere even close to being on this earth.  So of course, the girl had to say, "25 years ago...just how old were you, Mom? I bet you were about my age, huh?".

Yes my darling daughter, I was "about your age".

And I feel fine....

Can Someone Find The Aardvark, Please??

All I said was, "rise & shine, it's a brand new day!".  I say this every morning.  It was not received very well by two of my three children.  I heard: "I'm not going to school ever again!", "Mornings are not fun!", "Leave me alone!", "If you make me get up, I'm going to turn this day into opposite day, & I'll show you!", & (my favorite) "I hate you; you NEVER let me sleep!".

While the Boy & the Girl were shouting these protests, the Little Boy was hollering, "Were is my aardvark!?!?", "I not wear underwear today; my winkie not want to be covered up", "I can please wear my jammies to preschool today, Momma?", "I want my aardvark!", "I will be a Skylander when I grow up", "Find my aardvark someone please!!".

My response??  "You are going to school until you are graduated from college & make enough money to take care of your Dad & I", "Mornings are fun, if you'd just smile", "I'll leave you alone if you'll just get dressed", "I know all about opposite day; you can't trick me", "I do let you sleep, it's just time to get up before I start counting".

And.... "Your winkie needs to be covered up, it's as cold as the North Pole today", "You may wear your jammies to preschool when it's 'wear your jammies to preschool day'", "You may be a Skylander after you go to college, okay?", "I didn't know you had an aardvark...let me know when you find him".

The Boy & the Girl got dressed, & I'm pretty sure they were plotting against me, as they were whispering & staring at me.  That's okay, they were dressed, even though the Girl was ticked off that I picked out her clothes (the result of not getting out of bed when asked to do so).  the Boy was ticked off that he had no pants in his drawer (the result of him not taking them out of the laundry basket & putting in his drawer ~ he had to meander to the laundry room & pick up his pants!).  The Little Boy, whose favorite phrase is, "I do it myself", suddenly didn't know how to take his jammies off; he kept lifting his shirt to show his belly, while uttering, "I can't not do it!" (I know...do you want to explain what that means to a 3yo?).

I happily dropped everyone off at school & enjoyed some quiet for 2 hours, until it was time to get the Little Boy from preschool.  He kept his clothes on, his winkie stayed covered, & the aardvark talk is gone.  We are now obsessed with "that old groundhog". 

Oh my, I think a nap is order........

It's A Hairy Situation

For some reason, the girl is obsessed with her Daddy's hair situation.  No, he is not bald; his hairline has receded a bit since I met him, but that's not what fascinates her.  It's quite the opposite, to be exact.  My husband is hairy.  Very hairy.  About two weeks ago, she was asking why he was so hairy & so grey.  She ended up giving him a private nickname.  She declared, "...he can be my own Furby doll, except that he's human.  And a Dad.  But it can be our secret,  I don't want to hurt his feelings".

Well she's at it again.  I must say this: I was NOT sassy as a child.  I was a crybaby.  This child of mine is something else.  If she came to your house to play, she'd be an angel.  She'd use her manners & speak in a soft tone of voice.  You'd want to invite her over to play over & over again.  She is is a tricky little things.  I am not lying.

When we got home from the Y tonight, she had to go potty.  Even though Daddy was in the shower, she swore that she couldn't make it to the basement bathroom.  Being the free spirit that she is, she went into the bathroom while Daddy was showering & took care of business.  When she came out or the bathroom, there was a lot of giggling between her & the boy.  I heard him say, "no, it is NOT a boy thing.  I will NEVER have hair THERE!".  Great.  I knew that very soon, someone would be hollering, "MOOMMMM!!".

Sure enough, they were arguing about having hair in a place that they'd never seen hair before.  Here's how it went down:

The Boy: She said that I'm going to get hair in my butt!!
The Girl: *giggle, giggle, giggle*
The Boy: Tell her to stop it!!
The Girl: But Daddy had hair there!
Me: How do you know Daddy has hair there??
The Girl: He was drying off, & was turned around, & kind of bent over, & I saw it.  It was really gross, Mom.
Me: How do you know that you don't have hair in your fanny?  You have hair in your nostrils, don't you?
The Girl: But you said THAT hair is to protect the inside of our nose.
The Boy: Well maybe the hair in Dad's butt is to protect the inside of it.
The Girl: *serious* That's what our butt cheeks are for, don't you know anything???"

We will not tell her about the other precious places that hair grows on our bodies.  Let's just let it be a big fat surprise.  Okay???

Why Can't I Fix It??

Frustrated...Confused...Heartbroken...Helpless.
Four words of many to describe how I have been feeling lately.  The phone call from his teacher was the straw that broke the camel's back.  It was the phone call that left me feeling so helpless.  And in tears.  I think I've failed because I can't help my child.  This isn't about me; it's about him.  But when you can't fix "it", as a Mother, you blame yourself (or at least I do).

I don't have anything funny today, and I'm sorry.  Right now, in this moment, I am so sad, and I will probably ramble.  Just be glad you're not with me face to face, because I ramble worse in person.  And if no one reads today's post, I don't care....I need to get it out of my system.

Last year during Parent-Teacher Conferences in October, the Boy's teacher told me she had concerns about some of his social skills.  About some things that I thought were little quirks; things that as a Mom, I thought he did just to annoy me.  Sometimes he had a hard time sitting still (as if he needed to jump out of his skin).  He couldn't stand situations where the noise level was too extreme.  He constantly kept pulling up his pants Steve Urkel style, even though they fit just fine where they were on his waist.  I was told when things got too frustrating, of if he was unsure of an assignment, he'd get red in the face & burst into tears.  His handwriting was larger than it should be; he complained that his hand hurt when he held the pencil for too long.  He didn't like snap jeans, that he preferred button jeans, because the snaps hurt his hands.  He had a hard time staying in his own personal space when interacting with others. 

Call in the SAT Team of professionals.  Let's discuss the child & ways to try to remedy the problem.  The school psychologist wanted to do observations to determine if my child had ADHD, Aspberger Syndrome, or Autism Spectrum Disorder.  Yeah....absorb THAT one as a parent.  We agreed to let them do testing, but it wasn't getting done.  No return phone calls.  His teacher had a baby in the middle of February & took a 12 week maternity leave.  After months & months of unreturned phone calls, the school psychologist FINALLY got back to me in APRIL!!!  She had just done the testing, & could I come in for a meeting???  It took 6 MONTHS to test my child?!?  Really?!?! 

The Boy tested negative for any type of 'diagnosis', but qualified for help with the speech-language pathologist for one on one work for social skills, and for work with the occupational therapist for the fine motor muscles in his right hand.

Fast forward to this year.  The Boy is in 2nd grade, & has been having issues.  He is so smart, but when things get confusing or difficult, he shuts down.  At first, it took the form of tears (I found out that he was doing this during swim team practice as well).  At some point, the tears  were an embarrassing thing to do in front of classmates & friends (he told me so), so instead of tears, he started getting angry.  Red in the face, rocking in his chair (tipped his desk over once), refusing to ask for help when he didn't understand kind of angry.  I was finally able to witness his outbursts during swim team practice one evening, & it was then & there that I decided that he needed some help.  Professional help, because my husband & I couldn't help him.  No matter how many times we gently said, "when you are uncertain of what to do, please ask--please TRY; mistakes are not wrong.  We often learn from making mistakes".  The psychologist that he is seeing has given him techniques to work on to help him recognize & verbalize his frustration.  She is not affiliated with the school system, & I am in constant communication with his teacher (by the way, this woman is amazing; the Boy couldn't have a better woman putting up with him this year--yes, there are days when I don't know how she does it; my son is often times a pain in her neck).

The child psychologist that he is seeing informed me that the testing the school did last year was not the most current method of testing for Autism Spectrum Disorder, & asked for permission to retest my child.  Yes.  Test him.  If we need a diagnosis in order to get him the help he needs, then so be it.  I love him so much & want him to have every success in this world.  We will not have the results of the testing until our appointment this Friday, February 1st.

Fast forward to a few minutes ago.  The teacher called.  This time the Boy was in the office with her.  She feels as if they've hit a brick wall today.  He is quietly disrupting the class, getting out of his seat, & refusing to work. He was told this morning that if I got a phone call from the teacher, that he would not be attending swim team practice tonight.  He has a swim meet this coming Saturday, & this is a long practice.  I didn't want to take this away from him, but I had to keep my word.  I was firm with him on the phone; he didn't seem to have any reaction to having his favorite activity taken away from him. 

I absolutely hate being the bad guy.  I can't stand it!!!  Why can't I get through to him??  He is so smart, he can do the work...he just won't.  He is a funny, smart, loving, kind, & caring little boy.  The teacher has not issues with him until it's time to pick up that pencil & work.  He is only 8 years old; aren't these things that don't usually arise until a child becomes a teenager?? 

So there it is.  He may have a diagnosis.  Fine.  Let's help him to be the most wonderful that he can be.  Let's encourage & love him.  But WHY WON'T HE LISTEN & DO THE WORK??!

I will be there for him & his siblings ALWAYS.  But for now, I think I need to cry.  I need someone to give me hug & reassure me that he will be okay....

The Award For Parent Of The Year Goes To...

Not too long ago, The Boy had a doctor's appointment that was in the middle of the school day.  This was an appointment to the ENT, & I knew this visit would involve a hearing test, so it was best to find alternate care for The Little Boy.  Since The Little Boy is 3 years old, things don't always go according to plan & I was hyper sensitive to the fact that I did not want to be late for this visit.  I got The Little Boy dropped off at my friend's house & was on my way.  I was excited to know that I wouldn't be late.  I was quite pleased with myself when I was half way there & I was early, when I realized that I forgot to pick up The Boy from school.  Seriously, who forgets to pick up their child for said child's appointment?!?  Me, that's who. I turned around, picked up the boy from school, & made it to his appointment with 6 minutes to spare.

Another friend shared with me the fact that she had done the same thing about three or four months prior with her youngest daughter.  I was so happy to know that I was not the only Mommy in this elite little club.

Another friend told me the story of when she & her husband went to get Chinese take out one evening when their son was just an infant.  Her husband went inside to order the food while she waited in the car with the baby.  The sweet little bundle of baby was not happy.  He was screaming, & screeching, & crying.  My friend thought she'd move to the backseat to try & comfort her crying little man.  After she shut the front car door, she realized that the car door was LOCKED!!  Her husband was inside the restaurant & she had locked the baby in the car.  She couldn't get her husband's attention & was quite panicked.  She did have her cell phone & was able to call 911.  Poor thing, she was ready to smash the car window in, when the police convinced her that someone was on their way to unlock the car door.  She was certain that this child would be in therapy because of her.  This same friend has a sister with three children, & from what I understand, has been in the same boat.  Why do you ask?  Well apparently on her car there is a sticker with the name & phone number of the locksmith that will come & unlock your doors free of charge...IF YOUR CHILD IS LOCKED INSIDE!!  My friend's husband said, "yep, my sister in law has frequent flyer miles with XXX Locksmith Company".

SO......
I have another friend who I help out with when she & her husband have to work late.  I will take her 3 boys home from school where Grandma waits with them until Mom & Dad get home from work.  This friend has been very sick over the course of the past week & a half.  Two of her boys stayed home from school the other day, so I only had to take the oldest home after school.  Today as we were driving home (almost to their house, mind you), her oldest looks at me & says, "where is Quinn?" (Quinn is the youngest).  I looked at him & said, "isn't he at home with your Mom & Roman?".  "No Sheila, Roman is the only one who stayed home sick today". OH. MY. GOSH!!!!  (all I could think was, "this can't be happening...not with someone else's child!!").  I called Mom & asked, "how many of your children are with you at the moment?" (great way to set up a conversation with a parent, huh?)  She started laughing & aid, "Do you have Bobby with you?". Now I was really confused; wasn't she suppose to be cursing me out or something?  Apparently, she was at school pick up; at the far end of where we usually park.  Youngest child ran right by me--in my defense, he was wearing a different coat than usual.  I didn't see this little speed demon when he went running to Mom's car.  When The oldest came out, I just ushered him into my car & we were on our way.  It's funny. Five hours later. Not.  I'm still sick to my stomach. 

It's one thing to forget your own child.  Or lock your own child in the car.  But I have a hard time forgetting someone else's child. Oy.....

If anyone needs me, I'll be waiting for the Prize Patrol to deliver my Parent Of The Year Award......

When The Mother's Curse Came True....

I remember it well.  I was fifteen & it was summer.  I probably didn't do my chores, or maybe I lied.  Who knows?  It doesn't really matter.  I must not have done anything too bad, because I remember going to the pool (maybe my Mom just wanted me to get out of the house so I'd stop bugging her.).  I remember her hollering, "I hope you have a child just like you when you are an adult!".  I remember crying.  I ALWAYS cried, because I was a crier.  Oh well, someone has to be the crier and someone had to be the yeller.  I am no longer a crier...

Well I have become my Mom.  I cursed all three of my children tonight. They are NOT fifteen.  They are 3, 6, & 8.  They forced my hand.  I blame genetics on The Husband's side of the family.  Okay, I blame my Mom a little bit; she's been known to be a rebel & to speak her mind.  Yes, I blame The Grandma.

The fighting, the yelling, the tattling, & the refusal to listen to the Mom who loves them the most.  The Mom who was uncomfortable & miserable throughout each & every pregnancy.  The Mom who does not want to be a bad guy.  I told them that it is super simple: listen to me the first time; do what I say, without complaining, & for the love that is all good & right in this world: love each other & stop the insanity!!  Do these things, then I will be the nicest person you've ever met.  I don't think I'm asking for too much, do you??

Even as I type this, they are in bed fighting. They are fighting over who will be dressed first tomorrow morning.  They are fighting about which of them that Grandma & Grandpa love more.  They are fighting about who will get to eat the last of the vanilla yogurt in the refrigerator.  They are fighting over their birth order (like fighting about it is going to change it).

I got upset. I couldn't take it anymore.  So I gave them the Mother's Curse.  It is my job.  It is my right.  No one can take that from me.  It's out there.  It's said & done.

I hope they have children just like them when they become parents. I will be the coolest Grandma. Ever.....

"She Called Me S-T-O-O-P-I-D!"

I'm ready for bed.  Tomorrow night.  Yes I am.  For some reason, I didn't sleep well last night, and when I did sleep, the Little Boy crawled into our bed.  I was awakened to a swift kick in the forehead & his drool on MY face.  I thought I'd feel better after my shower & my coffee.

Then THEY woke up.  "I'm never going to school again!", "She's ugly!", "He's getting dressed in MY spot!", "I don't want THAT for breakfast, I want my Grandpa's pancakes!", "I don't care if all my teeth are going to fall out, I am NOT brushing my teeth!", "She licked my toothbrush!", "He stuck his tongue out at me!", & my favorite (which started World War III): "He's such a liar, he said he's going to tell everyone at school that I'm really a BOY!!!  He is S-T-O-O-P-I-D!!!".  I didn't correct her spelling of stupid. I didn't even go into my talk on how I despise name calling in this house.  I know consistency is important when raising children, but some days you have to try to keep everyone alive keep calm because there's only 45 minutes left until they go to school.

They ate.  They brushed their teeth.  We got in the car & buckled up.  The Girl asked if she could join me at work tonight (I teach a family fitness class 2 evenings a week & she loves to participate).  Before I could answer, The Boy piped up & told her, "she's not taking you, because you are S-T-O-O-P-I-D!".  I kept thinking to myself, "just keep driving".

Before they got out of the van, I told each of them to ask their teacher the proper spelling of stupid & to report to me when the day is over.  So far, I've only received a phone call from one of the teachers.  Let's see if The Girl follows my instructions too....

If The Little Boy Had Been Born First...

There are moments when I believe that had the Little Boy been born first, the Boy & the Girl would not be with us right now.  They wouldn't have been a twinkle in my husband's eye.  As a matter of fact, I think my husband would have had NO PROBLEM talking me into obtaining a sister wife. 

Pillow Talk

We had a houseful of children tonight.  The Boy & the Little Boy each had a friend come to visit for a sleepover.  That meant we had 2-8 year old boys, a 3 year old boy, a 4 year old boy, & the girl, who is 6 (AND A HALF. Don't forget the half).  The 3YO was ornery as ever, poking one of the boys in the back with a pencil & (according to the older boys), "threatening us".  I'm fairly certain that the Little Boy does not know what this term means, but with some TLC & an ice pack, everything was fine.

A few hours later, we had a friend call & ask if it would be possible for us to take her two youngest for awhile.  they had a family emergency & needed to have someone watch them.  The more the merrier, I say!!  Our friends' children were unexpected guests at our little soiree, but most certainly were not unwelcome; the Little Boy was ecstatic to have his best buddy show up, & The Girl seemed relieved to no longer be the only girl.

Everyone is in bed.  I've only had to threaten them with their lives 2 or 3 times, so that is a plus.  I told them that they may talk SOFTLY for about 15 minutes until it is time to fall asleep.  The girls are upstairs with the Pomeranian.  They are whispering.  The boys not so much.  Allow me to share what they are discussing (keep in mind they are 3, 3, 4, 8, & 8).

*It wasn't a REAL fart 'cuz I didn't smell it.
*Booger head!!!
*I'm going to karate chop your head off!
*Poopyhead!
*You are so gross!
*Oh just grow up.
*I'm telling!!!
*Smell my butt.
*Go to sleep!!
*You're going to get us in trouble.
*Act your age!
*I'm glad you're my friend.

This makes me wonder if they'll be having this same pillow talk when they are having sleepovers when they are teenagers??!??

And We Shall Call Him Furby.....

I really wish that I could crawl inside of the Girl's head.  Just for a day.  Or an hour.  I really do.  I can only imagine the voices & what they tell her to say.  I can just picture the angel on one side & the little ornery devil on the other side, arguing about what should be said next.  She is so unlike me when I was young.  I held my feelings in & kept my mouth shut.  Then when I couldn't take any more, I'd lose it.  It was usually in the form of tears (yep, I've been known to be a crier...so what about it??), & I'm fairly certain it drove my parents nuts.  With the Girl it's a different story.  She just thinks a thought, then the words come spilling out of her mouth: sometimes it's something naughty, sometimes it's something funny, & usually it's something sassy.

This morning I was driving her & the Little Boy to a friends house.  The Husband & I had to be with friends, & it was best for our crew of loudness to not be there.  It was quiet in the car & I'm sure that's when the voices started.  Here's how it went down:

The Girl: Mom, why is Daddy so hairy?
Me: I don't know.  That's just the way he was born.
The Girl: Do you mean he had ALL that grey hair when he was a baby?!?!!
Me: No, it's genetic.  You are from a hairy family; that's just the way it is.
The Girl:  I think we should call him Hairy Beary.
Me: That doesn't sound very nice to me, I think we should just call him Daddy.
The Girl: Can I call him that when he's not around?
Me: No, you may call him Daddy.
The Girl: Are you still going to call him Honey?
Me: I wasn't planning on changing any time soon.
(silence for about 2 blocks)
The Girl: I KNOW WHAT WE CAN CALL HIM!!!!
Me: This had better be nice.
The Girl: Remember that Furby doll I asked you for at Christmas, but you said it cost too much for such an ugly toy?
Me: Yes
The Girl: And remember how I told you that it wasn't ugly; that I thought that it was beautiful?
Me: Yes
The Girl: Well...that's what I will call Daddy.  He can be my own Furby doll, except that he's a human.  And a Dad.
Me: Really?
The Girl: But it can be our secret.  I don't want to hurt his feelings.

Shopping For A Bargain

I coupon. I shop the clearance racks.  I love a good bargain.  Saving money where I can so that we can do other things that may not be discountable (is that a word? I guess I'll find out when I spellcheck this entry ~ either way, it's staying, because I like the word).  I digress.  Sorry, I do that sometimes.  Every January 7 July, Target resets their toy aisle. They mark down the toys they need to get rid of, so they can bring in the latest & greatest mother load of things that my kids will see on TV & announce that they just HAVE to have.  when I tell them no, they tell me that they will ask Grandma & Grandpa. (9 times out of 10, Grandma gets "it" for them, & is the hero.  Yay for Grandma & Grandpa; saved me a few bucks!!).

So it was getting close to that time of the month.  I was stalking the aisles at 2 of my favorite Target stores.  I was reading the blogs & Facebook pages of the masters of bargain shopping.  The day came; I was ready for some 70% off on toys.  It is great to stock up for upcoming birthdays & to have several Christmas gifts tucked away.  It's really neat to have a little arsenal of gifts for when my children get invited to a birthday party; it's a great feeling to give a gift that retails for $30.00, & knowing that you scored it for $9.00. 

I purchased several items to donate to a local organization that has childcare on the premises.  Two of my children have birthdays coming up in a few months, so I was able to scorea few things for them (YAY!). Then I saw it.  I had to scan it, as the tag said it was only 15% off (not good enough for me to justify purchasing it. The scanner showed that it was marked down to 50%, good enough for a 'family' gift for this spring/summer.  When I got to the car & checked out my receipt, this toy rang up at 70% off!! (YAY).  The kids were going to love their Gigaball, a giant inflatable ball that they could climb inside off & push each other around in.  How cool is that? You can climb inside of a giant padded ball & have your siblings knock you around? I was fairly certain that they'd love it.

I was right.  The girl saw it first.  She climbed into the back of the minivan & squealed with delight, "Sam & Adam come here!!  Oh gosh, this is AMAZING!!  Come & look at this!!  It's a giant hamster wheel......for PEOPLE!!!"

Thomas 'Not My Brother' Edison

After the kids went to bed, I had a chance to sit down & go through their backpacks.  For me, this is amazing, as I am that Mom who often times does not do this little task until 45 seconds before we have to leave for school each morning.  By no means am I slacker, although at times this would appear to be the case.

It would seem that the Girl's first grade class is working on inventors.  She's been throwing little factoids around for the past couple of weeks.  "Did you know Alexander Graham Bell invented the phone, Mom?", "Did you know that Benjamin Franklin electricity & vocal glasses?" (really?), "Mr. Edison invented the light bulb so we wouldn't have to read in the dark.".  You get the picture.  Never mind that she doesn't quite understand what bifocal glasses are, or that  the light bulb wasn't invented just so she can read whenever she wants.  Never mind that on her school papers, she has these men's names written down: 'Alex Graham Bell', 'Ben Franklin', & (my favorite-yes, it was written this way, if the camera didn't have a dead battery, I'd show you): 'Thomas Not My Brother Edison'.

The important thing is this: The Girl is paying attention in class. For this I am grateful. Very grateful.  As a child, I spent much time staring out classroom windows, daydreaming instead of listening.  Both The Girl & The Boy are doing a great job of listening in class.  Maybe too good of a job.

Last night at dinner, the both of them were chatting away about how they did not have school this coming Monday.  I was fairly certain that the three day weekend wasn't for another week.  The Boy jumped up from the table, grabbed his school calendar off of the refrigerator, shoved it in my face, & loudly said, "SEE I TOLD YOU MOM!!".  Without missing a beat, I told my offspring not to worry, because I'd be dropping them off at school anyway.

After school today, once The Girl was buckled up & ready to go, she announced, "Mom, my teacher said that we DO NOT have school on Monday, & if you take us we will stand outside in the cold all day long!".

It is my sincere hope that this lady realizes that a Mom has to have a sense of humor.  If not, I think Child Protective Services may very well come knocking on my door...

The Girl & The Ugli Fruit

 

 

 

It was a simple dinner; we were having leftovers.  The Husband took The Boy to swim team practice, so The Girl, The Little Boy, & I were having leftovers for dinner. Simple. And it turned into so much more.

 

 

The conversation went something like this:

 

"I really do like the taste of it Mom, but I want to know who invented it." (the girl)

 

"I don't know who discovered it; we should look it up." (me)

 

"No Mom, was the person who named it a bully?" (the girl)

 

 

"Why would you ask that?" (me)

 

 

"Because of the name of the fruit; I feel sorry for it." (the girl)

 

 

"It's named that way because of the way it looks on the outside." (me)

 

 

"But Mom, that's what BULLIES do; they make fun of people who are different on the outside!!" (the girl)

 

 

It was at this point, my little sassy pants daughter scooped up the last of the ugli fruit in her bowl, & ate it like it was her last meal.  She had juices dripping down her arms, & she was loving this experience like she does with most things.  Her statement about the bullies 'inventing' the ugli fruit was so profound, it made me tear up a bit.  It was at this moment that I was reminded that this little spitfire of a girl is my Wonder Woman.  I am so glad that she listens even when I think she isn't listening.  I am so glad that she speaks her mind, as we always know where we stand with her.  I am so proud that she is so funny, so smart, & so confident.  I can only hope that I am raising her to be a kind, smart, caring, loving, productive member of society who isn't afraid to be passionate about the ugli fruit.







Before I Became A Mom

Before I became a Mom, I had grand visions of how my life was going to be. How my children were going to behave. How I would handle any uncomfortable situations, should they arise (but I knew that they wouldn't because I KNEW how things were going to be).  Then I married my husband & four children.  Then I gave birth to The Boy.  Sixteen months later, The Girl came along.  After The Girl was born, I filled out all of the necessary paperwork so the doctor could make sure that I was spayed.  Sorry, but I think it sounds better than 'having my tubes tied'.  If it's good enough for our pets to be spayed, it it good enough for me.  And besides, 'having my tubes tied' didn't give the end result we had been hoping for.  Three years later, the Little Boy entered our lives as a result of 'having my tubes tied'.  Okay, having my tubes tied didn't get me pregnant (I am aware of how getting pregnant happens: too many margaritas, right?), but I was that 1% that my perinatologist had warned me about as he tied my tubes.  It was only a 1% chance. I was 39 years old when I had this procedure done; surely I wouldn't get pregnant again...right??  WRONG!!

Anyway, The Little Boy is a joy & I can't imagine a better youngest sibling for this family.  The Little Boy, The Girl, & The Boy have all caused me to say things that I NEVER in my wildest dreams thought I'd hear come out of my mouth.  I've said each & every one of these things at least twice.

Allow me to share:

~~Yogurt is not fingerpaint.

~~Stop eating the lotion/Vic's Vapor Rub.

~~Why do you have purple whiskers on your face?

~~A true princess uses her words to solve her problems.

~~Stop licking the chair.

~~No, we cannot send the baby back to where he used to live before he came  
     to our family.

~~Band aids don't belong on your winkie.

~~What do you mean there's water all over the laundry room floor?!

~~I'm going to move in with you when you are a grown up; then you'll see
     how mean I really am.

~~When I was a little girl, I always did what my Mom told me to do.

~~You'll have fun whether you like it or not.

~~Peas do not go in our ears.

~~Oatmeal does NOT taste like glue!

~~Face each other, hold hands, & be quiet.  You will sit there until you love
     each other.

~~I don't care if you are dying, if you're not going to scrub the floor, get back
     in your chair & finish your dinner.

~~Because. I. Said. So. That's. Why.

There are more. Many more.  But I am tired (I'm always tired after the weekend winds down~~I rejoice in Mondays).  I encourage you to share with me. I'm sure you've said or done things that you swore you'd never do.  Even if you've never had children, I'll bet you've said something to your sister's children.  I bet you have had some adventures in babysitting. 

Please feel free to share....

Here We Go!!

So I'm finally doing it. At the request of many friends, I am starting a blog. My daily posts (yes I post many times a day) on Facebook may seem like a blog, but apparently I have a need to reach out & journal some more. In this blog, you will hear my daily rants about the life of a 40(ish) Mommy (yes, I was a late bloomer in the 'starting a family' department). In this house we have The Husband, The Boy, The Girl, & The Little Boy. And me, The Mommy.  The Mom.  The Momma. The Meanest Person Ever.  There are the 4 children that I married; they call me Step Mom; I prefer Step Sheila (I will answer to either one). Since they are all older & reside away from us, they will not be subjected to my rants  daily musings.  Unless I am in a Step Mom kind of mood; then nobody is safe. (just kidding ~ we'll save the torture for the one's I gave birth to).

Before I tell any stories, I have to say this: if you are a punctuation nazi, my posts may bother you. I enjoy exclamation points, periods, quotation marks, & any form of punctuation that allows me to express myself. I write how I speak; meaning that I often ramble. If there are two ways to reach a destination, and one is short & direct, while the other takes awhile & has a few twists & turns, you can be rest assured that I will probably take the 2nd of the two.

Tomorrow is my husbands 49th birthday.  He is a difficult man to buy for; if he needs something, he goes & gets it.  So when the kids asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he wouldn't come up with an answer.  The Boy asked him if he'd like a chainsaw. The answer was no.  The Girl asked him if he'd like a Barbie of some new shoes.  The answer was no.  The Little Boy asked him if he'd like a ninja turtle.  Nope.  He wanted this new drill set that had been marked down.  Cool, the kids & I can get him a few gift cards, then he can pick it up at his convenience (& I won't have to worry about getting the wrong item).  I thought this would be a win-win for everyone involved.  Nope.  The Husband decided that all 5 of us needed to load up in the minivan & purchase the drill set together.  I can think of many things I'd like to do for a family field trip, but a trip to Lowe's was not on my list.  But this wasn't about what I wanted, this was a gift for the provider of our family, so we should do it his way.

If anyone knows my husband, they know that it is not wise to think that you will be going on a quick shopping trip with him.  A simple trip to pick up a few groceries can turn into an hour long ordeal of reading labels, comparing prices, & asking me, "do you have a coupon for this?".  While he was looking at the 1,846,213 drill sets that the store had on their shelf, NONE were the exact item he swore he had seen in the paper earlier in the week. the children were getting antsy.  

I decided to take the kids on a walk around the store, because trips in public usually don't end well, unless a bribe is involved.  The Little Boy was in heaven when we walked into the lumber aisle & he saw not one, but TWO forklifts.  It took everything in my power to keep him from trying to climb into the driver seat & start his first day on the job.  The Girl found the paint swatches.  She was picking out colors for her apartment that she will have when she goes to college.  Everyone was chatting away rather loudly, but they were behaving, so we just kept walking around (I knew The Husband would find us when he was ready; how can you miss our loudness?), until they saw it.  The giggling started.  The farting noises started.  Followed by MORE laughter.  They discovered the display of toilets.  While I was telling them NOT sit sit on the toilets, it was too late, they beat me to the punch.  Before I could scold them, I found myself reaching for my phone so I could capture the moment for all of my cyber friends to see when they logged on toFacebook.  A better Mom would have scolded her kids. A better Mom would have paid attention beforehand, when the giggling started.  A better Mom would not have taken a picture of her children sitting on said toilets.

I am NOT a better Mom.....