Change is good!

Whew! Whoever thought that moving over Thanksgiving weekend was a good idea is an idiot! Wait. That was me. I'm still looking at boxes, can't find the hardware to two of the kids' beds and the one that doesn't need hardware broke in the move. The weird thing is that I couldn't be more thrilled.

Change is tough. So is admitting when you went down the wrong path. However, if you don't you can't right yourself. I don't regret that we tried living in a small town. Had things been a bit different, I think it just might have worked out great. But, they weren't and it didn't. There were a few wonderful people there, but it just turns out we're city people. We just didn't fit in. Fitting in, as it turns out, is very important to small town social success. Diversity and uniqueness just aren't welcome. Feared a little, even.

It was very clear (in that people actually said this) that the fact that we didn't go to church made them suspicious. No matter that some who did regularly attend were not exactly models of grace and love. What would Jesus do? Apparently vandalize cars and prank call in the middle of the night. And those are the adults. Weird we didn't want to join up, huh?

The fact that The Husband doesn't hunt was also apparently cause for alarm, at least among the menfolk. Because it's the guy who is uncomfortable killing stuff for fun that you should not want your kid around. The sheriff who shot an unarmed man in front of his kid - totally fine. The peacenick who gardens and doesn't own a gun is exactly who you should try to run out of town.

The strangest to me, though is the stuff we never saw coming. It was very disturbing to people that The Husband walked to the store. Really. It was the topic of much discussion in the gas station and other local hot spots. It was concluded by everyone that this was obviously due to him being unemployed and having lost his license because of drunk driving. Obviously there is no other reasonable conclusion.

Even considering all of this, I was concerned that moving would scar my kids forever. For the youngest two, the small town is all they knew; it's where they grew up. Home. As it turns out, all three couldn't get out fast enough. As we were leaving in the van for the very last time and shouting goodbye to everything (very Walton's goodnight-style), my son remained quiet. "Don't you want to say good bye to Casey's?" I asked. "Nope. I never want to think about this shithole town again." Well, there you have it. So much for his anxiety over leaving.

I don't blame him. He had it the worst. His last year in school his was getting into fights and just having trouble sorting everything out in his head. An older group of boys picked on him on the bus, calling him gay. His classmates made fun of our last name because it is Hispanic. His friends constantly reminded him that he was going to hell because he didn't go to church. I don't think things were going to get better for him. Just a side note - the school in our new neighborhood prints everything in both English and Spanish. Not only do I doubt he'll be mocked for our last name, I bet people will finally be able to pronounce it!

We are now close to all of the stuff we really like to do - the zoo, children's museum, theater, and the art museum. We have a great house in a neighborhood we love. Not to mention that I shaved 48 minutes off my drive to work. Each way.

Yep, change is good. Check that. Change es bueno!

Quote of the Day

Emily rolled up on me last night before she went to bed and began striking various poses.

"Hey Mom. Thanks for making me with this body. You did a really great job. It's perfect!"

Someone does not struggle with self-esteem.

Quote of the Day

Emily was trying to lift her brother's leg to throw him. He just stood there and looked at her. He finally deigned to insult her.
"You have the upper body strength of a gerbil."

Christians vs. Gravity

Emily bounded down the stairs and demanded an answer.

"Mom. Do Christians believe in gravity?"
"Yes. I believe that most of them do. However, I'm pretty sure that gravity doesn't care who believes in it."

Saying that you don't believe in something certainly doesn't make it not so. If anyone should concede this to another group it should certainly be Christians. One would think, anyway.

Calling BS on Grandma & Grandpa

We went to my parents' last weekend. My cousin was getting married, so we just made a trip out of it. The Husband was doing some work, I was reading in the living room, and my parents were in the kitchen with the kids. I didn't see it, but my parents committed some sort of PDA of which my children did NOT approve.

"Eeeewww! Gross!"
"What? Without that sort of thing your Mommy wouldn't be here."
"Grandma. We know that you adopted Mom."

Quote of the Day

"Hi Mom! I'm done with my bath."
"Isa. Come here. Why are your eyelids yellow?"
"Oh! I couldn't find any eyeshadow, so I used a marker."

Hahahahahahaha

So I was very alarmed today. Months ago, I agreed to install this program that is supposed to help me keep track of my finances. I've never looked at it again. It does, every now and then, send me little emails and reminders. All of which I ignore.

This morning, however, I had an email waiting for me in my inbox that warned of a "low checking account balance". I freaked. I had just checked last night, and all. seemed well until payday Friday. I had enough for gas and groceries, and all the bills could wait a few days. So it was really, really bad if my checking account was empty. Gas and groceries are pretty high on the important list.

So I opened up the email and it was concerned that the balance in my account had dropped below $500. Really? Now I will never use this program for sure. If it believes that $480 is a "low" balance in my checking account, then it clearly has no concept of what an average balance is! Low balance... Where was this piece of shit program when my account had six dollars? That, mint.com, is a low balance. A I have three kids and bills balance. Mint.com, you can suck it.

Quote of the Day

Declan was helping his Dad sort laundry. The Husband was going through them, and in true dudes-doing-laundry fashion, was throwing them at Dec for appropriate sorting. The system was actually working pretty well. Until they got to one of my bras, that is. It was an old one that I haven't worn in a very long time. Since about the time my oldest was born.

"Here comes one of your Mom's bras!"
"Oh, man. It's see-through."
"Yeah? What do you think about that?"
"Well, I'm disappointed and a little grossed out."
"Your Mom used to wear bras like that all the time!"
"That's great Dad. One more image to keep me up at night. Thanks a lot."

Holidays and the Lord

Okay, so if you've been reading this since the beginning, you know that The Husband and I don't have that old-fashioned, down-home, small-town embrace of religion. We don't discourage our kids from exploring religion, but we also didn't feel right about brainwashing them with any one in particular. Especially if we are not convinced ourselves.

Anywho, the kids all have very different perspectives on the subject. Emily considers herself religious, and Declan just doesn't understand it. He just can't get his very logic-driven head around blindly believing in something that there is absolutely no physical proof of whatsoever. He also is very put off by all the war and violence he sees on the television in the name of religion. Long story short, he's shaping up to be quite the little Agnostic.

My parents are very religious. Very. And their disappointment with me, and most importantly how I am wantonly throwing my children to the wolves of eternal damnation, is without limit. Religion is just something we have decided not to discuss.

So the kids and I went trick-or-treating the other night in my hometown with my Mom. It was a lovely, unseasonable warm evening and the streets were chock full of happy kids and happy parents.

We were pulling up on a street that looked particularly promising, and arguing erupted from the back seat.

Emily: "You HAVE to tell her, Declan!"
Declan: "Shut UP! No I don't!"
Emily: "But she's a Grandma - that means she has to be accepting!"
Declan: "No!!"
Emily: 'Grandma, Declan doesn't believe in God."
Declan:"Damn it, Emily! Why do you have talk about that today of all days?!? Don't you have any respect for holidays?!?"


I would like to hereby propose that on all holidays going forward that no discussion of the validity of religion be allowed between family members who do not agree on said topic. Actually, I'm pretty sure that every day is a holiday somewhere....

Quote of the Day

Emily was helping me fold laundry. Well, to be completely accurate she was sitting near me while I was folding laundry.

"Mom, what's this one? Oh! Grooooss! It's a bra!"
She continued after a brief pause.
"You know, Mom. You should really buy a bra that has sparkles on it or something so it's not as disgusting as your regular ones."

The Husband perked up from the other room.
"Yeah! Sparkles!"

Sparkles are not exactly a comfortable, breathable fabric prized in undergarments. Nope. No sparkles. Jerks.

Parenting > Dignity

I am the proud new owner of a minivan. Okay. Proud may be pushing it a bit. I am the reluctant and slightly bummed owner of a minivan.

Much like elastic waist pants and sun visors, this is something that I swore I would die before I ever owned. I'm still holding out on the visor and pants, by the way. Just saying.

The thing with the minivan is that it is incredibly convenient. It was just getting difficult cramming the three kids into the backseat of the Jetta. Basically what I'm hoping to do is trade my cool card and last shred of dignity to avoid even more hideous behaviors.

Here's the thing. I found myself turning into my dad without the van. It is all the kids' fault, of course. They couldn't leave each other the hell alone.

"Mom! Declan's touching my leg!"

"Mom! Emily is sleeping on my arm!"

"Mom! Emily keeps saying 'bearp' over and over at me and WON'T! SHUT! UP!"

Whack! "OOOwwwwww!"

I found myself saying the most unimaginable things. I actually at one point threatened to stop the car. I couldn't believe it, either. What was even more terrifying is that I really, really meant it. I would totally have stopped the car.  It was time to act before it was too late.

In my defense, I did buy the most tricked out, badass minivan I could find. It has an awesome stereo, automatic doors and seat warmers. And to cater to the cold wuss that I am, it has remote start. Did I mention the seat warmers?

Unfortunately, no manner of gadgetry or DVD screens can change the fact that I drive a fucking minivan. I have exchanged my last bit of at this point totally imagined cool factor to be sure that I don't throw one of my offspring from a moving compact for saying "bearp" once too often. I am officially middle-aged. Most terrifying of all is that it's not as traumatic a transformation as I'd always imagined.

Hmm. I bet elastic pants are quite comfortable...

Quote of the Day

Isa opened the silverware drawer and began to pull out spoons.

"One, two, three four, five, six seven..."

"Wait. Seven?? There's only five of us. Are you getting spoons out for dinner?"
"Oh, no, Mom! I'm trying to break a World Record!"
"By counting spoons?"

Exasperated eye roll.

"No. Mom. The record for number of spoons balanced on the face at once. The record is only 15!"

Quote of the Day

"Uh, Mom, what is that?" Emily asked skeptically as she peered into her lunch bowl.
"It's pasta alfredo. You'll love it."
"Yeah, you're probably right, Mom," she said brightly. "Just because something smells really gross doesn't mean it will taste gross..."
Her confidence in my culinary ability is just overwhelming.

Bring It!

Emily: "Dad, let's go wrestle!"
"Okay."
Over her shoulder, "Oh and bring your ass... so I can kick it!"
Atta girl.

Stupid Dr. Jones

So, I would like to say right up front that every story you have ever heard about toilet training is total bullshit. Nobody's kid has ever been totally toilet trained at 18 months. Maybe they got lucky and dropped one in the toilet once, but trust me when I tell you that it was probably an accident and that kid went on to shit his or her pants for a very long time after that. For some reason parents want everyone else to think their kid sprung from the womb and asked for the toilet paper. I think this is very disillusioning to new parents who don't know that this is total bullshit. Like us.

My oldest daughter resisted toilet training like a champ. She's always been extremely stubborn, and when you are small you control what you can. At age three, about all you can make the call on is if you eat your dinner or throw it and if you poop in your pants. My daughter chose the latter.

We actually got to the point where Isa would realize that she had to poop, go find a pull up (because we made her wear underwear during the day), take off her underwear, put on her pull up, poop, remove her pull up and throw it away. This really pissed me off. Not only was she clearly capable of going by herself, her chosen process was actually more complicated than just going in the fucking toilet. She would just rather skid mark every pair of underwear and frustrate her parents. Awesome.

Well, she went in for her yearly doctor's check-up. Dr. Jones asked her if she was still wearing pull ups. She said yes. He asked why, and she brightly replied it was because she liked pull ups. Ugh.

Dr. Jones told her in a very stern voice that she wasn't going to wear any more pulls ups and that when we got home, Mom and Dad were going to throw them all away. He said that she was a big girl and that she wasn't allowed to wear diapers anymore. She was very bummed. I was very skeptical.

We did it, albeit without much optimism. We threw away all the pull ups in the house. Except for Declan's. Those we hid.Because we were trying to potty train him, too. Yeah, our house totally did not smell like a park shelter bathroom all the fucking time or anything. It's very difficult to keep your sanity and dignity while parenting. That's how mumus and elastic waist pants happen.

Well, that daughter of mine decided that if she couldn't poop in a pull up that she just wouldn't poop at all. For FOUR days! The Husband and I decided to just wait her out. It couldn't stay in there forever, right???

On evening four, The Husband and I were sitting at the dining room table discussing important grown up things. Isa wandered over by us on her way to the kitchen. By this point, she was walking a little bowl-legged and holding her butt. She was talking to herself, so The Husband and I stopped to hear what she was saying.

All we caught as she waddled by with old-man-frog-ass was "Stupid Dr. Jones!"

As I sat, watching my daughter who would rather stagger around with days worth of poop turtle-ing out of her ass than just use the damn toilet, exhausted from not getting a good night's sleep in years, almost certainly encrusted with some sort of soil from one of the babies, and pregnant with yet another darling little girl I wanted nothing  more than to beat the shit out of the next person who claimed that her kid was toilet trained in only four days. Because that person, whomever she was, was a lying fucking bitch.

Know Your Audience

Emily was scheming on my candy bar.
"Mom, can I have a bite of that?"
"No, babe. It's almost gone and I don't have enough for your brother and sister, too."
"Puleeeeeeeease?"
She lowered her chin, put on her best little smile and batted her eyelashes.
"Em. Do the doe eyes ever work on me?"
"No."
"Has it ever, even once, in your whole life ever worked on me?"
"Never. Oh! I forgot! That shit only works on boys! Have you seen Dad?"

Quote of the Day

"Hey Dad. For a guy with really bad eyesight, your a really good dad." Emily

Quote of the Day

I switched the family from cow milk to almond milk last week. I've been doing more reading about dairy and it's link to juvenile diabetes and a host of circulatory diseases. They all really liked the almond milk.  In fact, Declan was particularly excited about the change.

"You know, I'm totally fine with giving up all dairy all together."
"Really? Why's that?"
"Well, to be honest, drinking cow boob milk is pretty creepy."

You know, when you present it that way...

Quote of the Day

Emily: "If we were vegan, then we could only have pizza with just vegetables."
Declan: "Which I would go crazy about! And fondue would be fon don't."

Quote of the Day

Declan: "Mom, I think when I grow up, I'm going to invent a robot that's afraid of tangelos."

Keep that Moderation Out of My Juice!

Emily: "Mom, I'm just going to throw out water and milk because I know those, but I want to know if some drinks are healthy."
"Okay. Shoot."
"What about Gatorade?"
"No, not healthy."
"Okay, I'll stop drinking that. How about juice. You know, real juice?"
"Well, in moderation it's fine."
Rather impatiently: "No, Mom. I said real juice."

Quote of the Day

Declan: "When someone is speaking into a bunch of microphones, like the president giving a speech or something, from a distance it kind of looks like he's speaking into a bunch of robot penises."

A Fool and Her Money...

Emily was rummaging around the house collecting change. We'd been to the zoo and she saw a stuffed animal that she would apparently live a tragic, unfulfilled life without. She came running out of the master bedroom waving a dollar; her largest find thus far.

"Oh, that's my dollar." says Declan
"No, I found it in Mom and Dad's room." Emily counters
"Yeah, I left it in there the other day. It's mine for sure."
"AAAGGGHH! Fine. Here. But why every time I find a dollar it's yours? You are just SAYING that they are your monies!"
"Oh, that's easy. I only have one dollar, but you always find the same one."
"Well, you should put it in safer places, then."

Declan walks away with yet another dollar, snickering.

Aging Gracefully

Emily was patiently explaining to her father precisely why he was starting to look old.

"Well, you have a beard. And glasses and lots of white hairs."

He asked her if I looked old as well.

"Not yet. But Wait!"

She ran in to the bathroom and came out with my bottle of foundation. Which I haven't worn in months. Maybe years.

"Here Mom. If you start to look like Dad, just put on this!"

Really?!?!

The boy was angry at his little sister...

Quote of the Day

Isa: "Mom, is everyone in the family flexible?"
"No, your Dad isn't very flexible, either. You and him are alike in that way."
Declan: "Don't worry, Isabella, everyone has some sort of disability."

On Good Lies

My son tried to run past me and get upstairs with a box of cereal. I stopped him immediately and reminded him that cereal is not allowed upstairs. Mostly because I'm pretty sure they don't actually eat it, but instead dump it all over the floor and dance on top of it. That is the only possible explanation for the mess that always results. So, no cereal upstairs.

He reluctantly plodded back toward the kitchen and grumbled in protest.

A few minutes later he came by with a kitchen trash bag.
"Isa needs a trash bag to clean her room!" He spat at me as he sprinted toward the stairs.

"Wait! What's in the trash bag?!?"

"Ugh. You busted me."

He had poured several handfuls of cereal in the trash bag to get it by me. The only reason it failed is that Isa doesn't clean her room. Ever.

I'm going to have to work to stay ahead of this little guy when he's a teenager...

Quote of the Day

Isabella: "Dad! What's wrong with your toes?"
Dad: "Nothing."
Isa: "Why are your toes purple?"
Dad: "Emily painted my toenails."
Isa: "Um, Dad... You have some polish in your toe hair."

Ruins the look bit, I guess....

The Difference Between Boys and Girls

So completely at random, The Husband announced during our car ride that he wasn't wearing any underwear. Right when I was in the middle of my eye roll, Declan chimes in from the back seat.

"What a coincidence, Dad! I'm not either!"

Great. Emily immediately made a sound as if she had stepped in dog poop. "That's gross!!!"

"No," Dec patiently explained, "it's called 'commando'."

Lalalalalalalalala

My youngest two children, according to their shrieks, are playing a game named "Stuffed Animal Wrestling Super Bowl". It would also seem that an important move is the "Fat Chop".

I'm just going to keep typing at the computer....

Quote of the Day

Tonight I was shaving down The Husband's hair. He likes to sport the short look, so we just bought some clippers and I buzz him down every few weeks. While I was in the middle of all this, Emily sauntered into the kitchen.

"Mom, make sure you get all of the white ones, so Dad won't look like an old person."

Nothing like a child's honesty to keep your ego in check!

Quote of the Day

Emily got some new clothes from my mother. One outfit was a cute little denim skort and a shirt with sparkly embroidery that said "High Maintenance". I'm not even going to get in to the appropriateness of that.

Anyway, she went and put it on, brushed her hair and selected shoes with the appropriately matching sparkle-ness. I told her that she looked nice.

"Yeah I know. I AM pretty adorable in this."

That one will be the death of me.

I'm Gonna Get the Good Old Folks Home!

I was asking the kids what topics they were interested to study next year. Declan said "Science"! I told him that science was a super big topic, so I asked him to be more specific.

"Black holes and dark matter!"

My son is totally a genius. No bias.

One of the Many Joys of Pet Ownership

Isabella and her dad were sitting on the couch with our dog, Jager. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that Jager is German for "hunter", not merely a really nasty shot which everyone in thier twenties is convinced contains deer blood. And that he had that name when we adopted him.

Anyway, Isa was petting him and he was getting very playful; something he rarely does with the kids. The Husband enthusiastically encouraged her.

"That's it! Scratch his ears - he loves it! Get in there on his belly with a good rub! Oh! He's giving you the straight legs! Get in on that leg muscle!"

The Husband was quiet for a couple of seconds because he had turned his attention back to the baseball game. Isa made a groaning noise and copying the tone and cadence of her father informed us of an unfortunate turn.

"And, noooow he's licking his butthole"

Game over.

On Sitars and Hippies

The other day, I overheard a conversation between my son and The Husband. Declan correctly made reference to a sitar, which very much surprised his Dad.


"How do you know what a sitar is??"
"Oh, remember last summer when we were walking around downtown after art class? I saw a hippie on the street playing a sitar."
"How do you know the guy was a hippie?"
"Well, his hair was pretty long, he was wearing a tie-dye shirt, and... well... he was playing a sitar!"

Sorry

I know it's been a long time since I wrote anything. I will do better. Lately, I've been a bit preoccupied and angry and just not in the mood to write funny stuff. But, I think everything is going to work out for the best. We've had some family meetings and Matt and I have made some (I hope) good decisions. Sometimes the best course of action is not the one for which you very carefully prepared.

Anyway, I'm back in the saddle and have some ground to make up! :)

Winning!

Isabella: "Okay. we are going to have a 'good parenting' contest. It's a contest to see who can be the best parent."
Mom: "Yeah, how would one win this contest?"
Isabella: "Well, the parent that makes the rules that the kids can't stand is not the winner."
Emily: "So, whoever is the winner, most likely it will be Mom, will be the best parent!"

Whoo Hoo! Go Mom!

Quote of the Day

Isabella: "Declan, remember the time Jager (our dog) stepped on your cubes?"
Declan: "DON'T TALK ABOUT MY PRIVATES!!!"

Quote of the Day

Declan came home from school with an adorable handmade card for Mothers' Day. He had glued Hershey's kisses inside and the card said something about there being kisses for me.

"Mom, the kisses the card talks about are the chocolate kind, not the other kind."

"You mean that's the only kind of kisses I get? I don't get the schmoochie kind?"

"No Mom. I'm just not that kind of guy right now."

Quote of the Day

Emily: "Mom, what do you like better? Us or our pictures?"
Mom: "Well sometimes that depends on the day"

About ten minutes later...

"Mom, what do you like better? Nobody or us?"

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how you use language carefully to extract a favorable outcome...

Quote of the Day

I walked into the living room and saw Emily doing a weird sort of wiggle with her arms in the air. It was odd enough that I was slightly worried that she was injured or seizing.

"Uh, Em. What are you doing?"

"Oh, hi Mom! I'm hoochie dancing."

Fantastic. Her father will be so pleased.

The Challenges of Underwear

Isa walked downstairs in a t shirt and underwear. That was not disturbing. What was disturbing was that she was wearing her sister's underwear. It wouldn't be a big deal, but Em is half her size. The underwear looked like a Dora the Explorer thong. Exacerbated by the fact that Isa had the underwear on backwards.

"Why are you wearing Emily's underwear?"
"Because she's wearing mine."

What?!?!? What the hell?

"Emily!!!"

She came bouncing downstairs and was, indeed, wearing Isa's underwear. It was sagging so much that she had to hold it up while she stood there. So I looked at my two girls. Girls I often tell people are brilliant. One having to hold her underwear up like a gangster - except that instead of jeans she's OG in pink polka dots. The other in britches so tight that she has a muffin top coming out at every seam. Every seam. Dora looks like some weird acid trip or Dali painting.

"Aren't either of you uncomfortable?!?!"

Cheerful "no" from both of my genius daughters.

"Okay then. When you get dressed for school tomorrow everybody wears her own underwear."

They agreed and bounded back upstairs. Sometimes you just gotta pick your battles.

Quote of the Day

"Declan, what's the matter buddy?"
"I have a headache."
"Yeah?"
"Yep. I had a little headache at school, then the bus really piled on..."
I remember riding the bus as a kid. I'll bet it did.

Quote of the Day

"Emily, in what three events would you like to compete in the track meet Sunday?"
"Oh! Long jump, track and field."

Quote of the Day

Emily: "Mom, you are going to have the best Mother's Day present ever!!"
Mom: "I have you guys - that's already the best present ever."
Emily: "Yes, but this is almost specialer than us!"

Quote of the Day

Em and Dec were practicing track and field. They were hurdling over couch cushions. Considering the many things that they could have chosen as hurdles, I thought this was a relatively safe option. Score one for Mom!

Emily didn't make it over a cushion and collapsed on the floor. She didn't even lift her head and stayed crumpled on the floor.

"Uuuggghhh. I'm going to stay here. Just use me as a hurdle."

My Son the Fugative

Okay. the first thing that is important for me to say is that I love my son. Dearly. Really, I do. So, when I say that today I want to sell him to a band of nomadic gypsies, I am kidding. Mostly.

The beginning. My house looks like crap right now. Really, really bad. Long days at work, an overambitious and now temporarily abandoned clothes sorting project and a couple of mostly done home improvement projects have conspired to destroy any credibility I ever had as a homemaker.

Declan's birthday was Monday. After school, The Husband took him to an arcade/glow in the dark mini golf/paintball/pizza joint/everything an eight year-old ever dreamed of place in the city. They stopped and picked up a birthday cake on the way home. I wanted The Husband to go get a cake at the natural food store, but he didn't. Declan ate way too much of it and had to stay home from school the next day due to intestinal distress.

I had to work, and because of our attendance policy HAD to go. The Husband HAD to cover an event. So, the little guy settled in front of the TV, dutifully recited the "at home alone rules" and watched some cartoons.

He had been alone for about 90 minutes when my phone at work rings. It's The Husband's friend. He's on our deck.With the town police officer.

We know the officer, too. In fact, he's Declan's wrestling coach. Geoff tells me that someone placed a 911 call from our number.

WHAT?!?!?!?

The call was a hang-up, but Will has to follow up to make sure everything is okay. Which I appreciate. Since I just talked to the kid about a half hour ago, I told them to hang tight on the deck and I'll call inside. No answer.

Damn it! Maybe he is unconscious! Maybe his stomach ruptured. Maybe he's laying on the floor wondering why his Mom didn't save him... I told them to go inside and look for him.

They found him. He was not unconscious, sick or dead. He was hiding. In the absolute furthest corner of the house. After my relief wore off, it hit me.

The furthest corner of the house. THEY WALKED THROUGH THE ENTIRE HOUSE. Oh, damn. They walked past the not finished home improvements, waded through two years of outgrown clothes that have now become strewn all over the upstairs, and navigated around the huge box that contains Emily's new desk - also graffitied by Declan with about two dozen drawings of the Pringles guy. Shit!!!!!!!

I called The Husband in terror that before I could home, DHS would be there removing my son from the care of his incapable mother. He patiently reminded me that Will has four kids of his own, and Geoff is currently remodeling his house so actually living in the basement. "They aren't judging."

Whatever. This obviously all happened because of the cake. That he bought. Damn it.

I was going over with Declan where he could have made some different choices that day, and I asked him what he learned.

"That 911 really works."  Indeed.

Forcefields Aren't Just for Superheroes

Declan: "Mom! Isa's can of soda shocked me! When I touched it it shocked me hard! It hurts."
Isabella (to herself in the background): "That's amazing! This soda has built-in brother repelllant! I'm gonna have to get this one again..."

Trauma

I have been able to live in denial up until now about my advancing age. I was able to conveniently blame almost everything on childbirth and motherhood. That blissful state ended today. I couldn't figure out what it was, but something in my nose was bothering me like hell. The air is still pretty dry in our house, so I figured it was one of those super-hard boogers and tried to blow it out all day. To no avail. In desperation, I stuck tweezers up my nostril, grabbed what I could and pulled.

The good news is that my nose doesn't bother me anymore. The bad news is that what came out wasn't a booger. It was a nose hair. Not so bad right?

Wrong!!

It was approximately an inch long. And GRAY!! What the effing hell??? Thoroughly traumatized, I plan to crawl right back into my shell of denial. It didn't happen. I don't have gray hair. I don't have stupid long old woman nose hair.

How awesome is it that boogers are the most acceptable option? Harumph. I must go shout at kids on my lawn now.

Self Regulation

Overheard after the three children were sent upstairs to clean their rooms, a very unpopular request.
Emily crying.
Isabella says in her best mature voice, "See? That's what you get! That's what happens when you are lazy and you won't do your part! You get kicked in the stomach! Now, Emily, get up and clean your room!"

Quote of the Day

Emily: "Mom, you know really tall kids that sit in the back of the bus? The teenagers? Well, they are super loud and they use words that are inappropriate for little kids like me. Because of those teenagers, I know words like 'suck' and 'fucking a'.
Isabella: "Emily!! You should not use words like that!"
Emily: "I didn't! I heard them from the teenagers! Well, mostly the teenagers and a little from Dad."
Way to go Dad.

My Body, My Self

Conversations this week with Emily about the body:

"I can't hold the drinks, Mom. I'm sleeping."
"Then don't sleep."
"I'm trying, but these eyelids have a mind of their own!"

"Mom! I almost barfed! I felt something come up into my throat. I'm pretty sure it was a kidney or something."

"No! I don't want to take a bath."
"You should. You're a little stinky."
"Nope. Smell my feet - they are sweet as a flower!"

Quote of the Day

The Husband is glued to the television watching the NCAA wrestling tournament. They show two matches at a time. Trying to not ignore the family completely, he asked Emily which one of the four currently on the screen she wanted to win.
"Hmm. I don't know. Which one has the best abs?"
Shit.

Quote of the Day

"Emily, how was Kindergarten today?"
"It was pretty bad."
"Why?"
"Jacob farted during music class."
"Gross. Nice boyfriend you got, there."
"Yeah, I'm kind of starting to hate him."
"Huh. He really is your boyfriend!"

Quote of the Day

Emily was trying to patiently explain to me how something I'd asked her to do was completely unreasonable. She finally sighed and started over.

"Mom. That will take five minutes! That's like four hours in Kindergarten time!"

Betrayal PPO

Emily was four and super excited to be going to Kindergarten. She had attended preschool, but saw Kindergarten as "real" school and perhaps for the first time in her life, eagerly climbed into the car ahead of her brother and sister to go visit Dr. Jones for the back to school check up. And she knew there would be shots.

After the pokes and prods and shots, she was given a clean bill of health and Dr. Jones signed her form.

"The only thing left is the new mandatory lead test. Just take this order down to the lab and they'll draw a bit of blood and you should be all set!"

Didn't seem as if it would be a huge deal. Neither of the other two had to get this done, but it seemed straightforward enough. So, we gathered our things and headed down the stairs to the lab.

We were only in the waiting room a couple of minutes when Emily was called back. I remember being encouraged by this. Stupid, stupid Mom.

When we got back to the very tiny little room that I'm certain was orginally designed as a closet, Em got very nervous. She couldn't help but to fixate on all of the tubes and needles and gauzes. I could see the dread building. This was bad. Very bad.

I tried to be bright and encouraging, but soon was told that Dr. Jones' office had sent down an order for Isabella instead of Em, so we would have to wait until they sent down a new order. Great. They obviously did not work with small children very often. Give the kid more time to stare at the collection of blood tools. That's going to work out awesome.

Long story short, by the time the needle atually hit her arm, Emily was a mess. She wailed so loudly that I'm sure I could have rented her out for Middle Eastern funerals. When ALL THREE tubes of blood were drawn and she was sporting her pink camo bandage, the unit secretary was right there with a huge box of stickers and suckers and stuff. Em was sniffling but sorting through it, taking the opportunity to gaffle herself quite the little collection.

The secretary was pleased with her impact on Emily's mood, and said to her "see, that wasn't so bad, huh?"

Emily looked up from the box with a mixture of anger, disbelief and disdain.

"What?? That hurt like HELL!"

She was permitted to select several more stickers...

Quote of the Day

Isabella: "Mom, Declan uses faaaar too much inappropriate language."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yes. He learned it from Dad."

Quote of the Day

Isabella: "Mom, Declan may look harmless, but really he can inflict a great deal of pain."
"Really? I had no idea he was so dangerous. Did he hurt you?"
"No, but the other day, he nearly broke Emily's spleen."

Quote of the Day

"Declan, how was school?"
"The usual."
"Yeah? Anything interesting?"
"Well, in speech today Mrs. P asked me a question I didn't know."
"What was that?"
"Columbus discovered what? I didn't know what to say because Columbus didn't discover America."
"Well, you're right about that. What did you say, then?"
"I said 'I don't know - pie?'"
"You said 'Pie'?"
"Yep. I like pie."
"So do I, son."

Ode to Joy

Whew! The holidays are busy around here. I know they are busy for everyone but I feel as if we are stretched more than most.

The Husband is a high school wrestling coach. Because he is a hard ass, they practice over winter break. A lot. In fact, he sees himself as extremely benevolent that they get Christmas day off. I work at a fancyish food store. Add that in with school programs and errands and all the other crap, and we don't have time to come up for air until the holiday is literally here.

When the kids were toddlers, this meant jamming them all into a car, shuttling back and forth between grandparents, trying to be "fair" about the time spent each place, jamming all the new, loud and plastic toys in between the kids and driving back again just in time to go back to work. I'm not going to lie. It sucked. I love my family, and it's nice to see them, but damn.

Why am I speaking of these horrible holidays in the past tense? We don't do them anymore. That's right! We seceded from family holidays. And, it's awesome.

Most people react with shock and awe, as if I just told them I put myself through college knocking off convenience stores or something. It was no big deal; very much a bloodless coup. We just stopped going.

The Husband and I were sitting up very late one night, staring at the mound of new toys and contemplating how the next few days would go since the kids had just taken a two-hour nap in the car when they should have been going to bed. I know it's stating the obvious considering the circumstances, but we were several beers in. We were fantasizing about how great it would be to not have to go through all of the rigamaroll and just have a family holiday.

"Why the fuck can't we? We're adults. If we don't want to go, we don't have to."
"You know, you're right! What's the worst that could happen? Everyone would be pissed and our holiday would suck?"
"Hahahahahahahahahahaha!"

We decided the reward outweighed the risk, and mutally agreed to try it the next year. When the holidays rolled around, we told our parents that we were too stretched to make the trip, and asked to make arrangements to get together sometime the next week. Mine graciously agreed. His freaked.

Sweatpant holidays were born.

Thanksgiving at our house starts with everybody sleeping in. Whenever I wake up, I start to cook. I also start to drink wine. We eat throughout the day, watch football and play games as a family. We go for a walk if it's nice and eat more if it isn't. Everyone plans the menu together, and everyone helps cook. This year we ate it picnic-style on a blanket in the middle of the living room. If you think that sounds amazing, it is.

We see my family when there's more time and we can really enjoy it, and we have started our own traditions, too.

Sweatpant holidays is one of the best decisions The Husband and I have made as a couple. It's a great lesson that sometimes you just have to say "Why the fuck not?" and do it. Especially if there's wine.

Quote of the Day

Isabella: "Mom! You know that new science book I got for Christmas?!? Did you know that in it there is a picture of slugs mating?!?"
"No. I was unaware of that."
"It's awesome! Slugs don't have privates, so do you know how the female gets to the sperm?"
"No I don't, and frankly that's just fine with me."
"Well, she pushes her organs to the outside! That way the sperm gets to where it needs to go! Isn't that great?!?"
I've always been happy I'm not a slug, but now more than ever.

Anticipation Parenting

So, I received a call at work from the oldest today. This is quite unusual, and I immediately assumed that someone was dead or on fire. Perhaps both.

"Mom! Emily has been crying for an hour!"
Still alive. Excellent news.
"Why? Did someone hit her?"
"No. You know that new brush? The circle one where the bristles go all the way around?"
"Yes."
"Well. Emily decided she wanted to use it because the thought it was awesome and it is stuck in her hair."
"Is it still in her hair?"
"Yes. I really need her to be quiet."
"Well, Isabella, there isn't a lot I can do about this from work. Can you try to get it out for her?"
She brightened up immediately.
"Oh sure, Mom! I'll go do that now."
"Isa. DO NOT cut your sister's hair."
"Oh. *long pause* Well, okay. I'll just try to ignore her, then."

Any bets on if she already had the scissors when she called me?