miscommunication

Is it me or is every time you give your child directions they silently must hear “and do it as loudly as you can.”

Example: Please get ready for school… slam all doors as you do it, huff and puff like you’re in Wimbledon, and make sure as you put on your cologne so the rest of the family gags (that means you got the right amount). Oh, but don’t flush the toilet you may wake your brother.

Example: Put on your shoes and grab your backpack…while doing so stomp hard so the house vibrates and scream complaints that have been bothering you while you were sleeping.

Example: Let’s go… but look for the largest toy in the house to bring with and when I reply with a “no” drop to the ground and scream and kick like you’re a ride at a carnival.

Maybe it’s just me…

Entomophobia

As I leave Wal-mart with my sister and three of our kids, bees converge on us.

I just load the car ignoring the pests. My sister on the other hand cannot, she freaks.

I try and tell her to calm down but this is as she pushes the cart away from her because they are landing on her grocery bags. The problem with this is that her one year old is in the cart also, and her 5 year old has wandered off to save himself not from bees but flailing arms. I finish loading my car then proceed to get a front row seat to the action.

She has now composed herself enough to get the cart to the car. As she begins loading the vehicle she uses items in the bags as weapons (also at this time another onlooker has joined her audience). She seems to prancing as she uses a Kraft macaroni and cheese box to “shoo” away the buggers. She turns in full circles, I guess to cover the entire circumference of the area. She then just throws the box. I, of course, am peeing myself and crying overcome with laughter. The box did not accomplish what she wanted, so she whips that in the car. At this point her mothering instincts finally kick in and she places her children in the van out of harms way (her). Now her dance technique has become a bit harder her prancing is more stomping and her weapon now is a whole bag full of stuff. But I absolutely enjoy that she has kept her 360 move because I do enjoy that the most. I am also grateful that the parking spot next to her is open because her movements span a larger area and again this show is for me. Watching her for what seems like 15 minutes she is done with her task and safely in the car. The performance is done. Brava!

P.S. Remind me to tell you about the time she was outside with the kids and a bee came she ran inside slamming the door leaving the little ones to fend for themselves, screaming, crying, and building there phobia. Priceless…

No, I just developed this twitch...

Ants.

No matter what you do they pop up in your house. I finally conquer them by the back door only to find them moved on to the kitchen. I attack again and again I foolishly think I’ve won this war. Now it’s Saturday morning and I’m in deep sleep and my 8 year old is poking me saying “Ants they are appearing everywhere, get up, get up.” Crap. I head down to the kitchen and sure enough there they are carrying every minuscule crumb to their lair. Crap. I begin my crazed attack of a deep clean and the ultimate stare down. The stare down is when you begin focusing so hard that your eyes glaze over, water and turn red (also you may begin to drool slightly because of the deep meditative state you enter).
This is an imperative procedure because the little germies do just appear even when you think you see them all. As I watch things appear, no ants just small dust particles and whatnots, again I think I’ve kick their butt, I sigh and smile only to my frightened children.

With my insane asylum look I think waking up to scrub, clean, and kill…. I don’t look half bad.

07-08-07

Eating a bowl of ice cream with cool whip… $1.25

Laying in bed watching a movie …. $3.45

Falling asleep with a toddler in your arms… free

Waking to go to the bathroom at midnight…free

Checking on all your children as they sleep…free

While checking on teenage son finding out one of his friends is over, and your in your ratty bra- less t-shirt and underwear with “Clan of the Cave Bear” hair and dried drool on your face and the only thing you can muster to say is "oogafilt"?…. #@&*(&^ priceless.

07-01-07

Have you ever come home from work slipped on some drawstring pants with ease then head to the kitchen to eat yourself sick… Only to find out that just as you need to go to the bathroom “this instant” and brilliant you has put your pants on backwards? And there’re in a knot? And won’t slip off with “ease”? A knot that only a contortionist and a person with a Linda Blair head from “the exorcist” can undo? ... me either… just asking…

6-25-07

I would like to summarize our summer vacation…

Are we there yet?

I want to go home.

Don’t touch that!

Don’t put that in your mouth!

I’m hot.

I’m hungry.

Did you lock the car?

You’re going the wrong way.

There’s the Caribe Royale.

Google sun poisoning.

How much?!?!

Don’t put that in your mouth!

Do you think a doctor should look at that?

I think I’m peeing sand.

Arby’s or Hardee’s?

Motrin or Tylenol?

We need a Wal-mart.

I’m hot.

Please go to sleep.

Have you seen my…(fill in the blank)?

Did you lock the car?

Hold my hand!

I’m confused.

It’s only $1.97.

This is not our stroller.

How much?!!!

Not in your nose!

It itches!

This is not our stroller.

I’m hungry.

There’s the Caribe Royale…again.

You’re shedding…

He’s hitting me!

She’s hitting me!

Stop!

I’m hot.

Rub this on.

I’m hungry.

Did you lock the car?

Remember this is only a summary … times this by 9 to get the real feel…

Who's the Boss?

Warning signs your three year old is going to have a meltdown…Or your guide to what’s happening today… tomorrow… and unfortunately the day after that…

1. He or she will probably start with the classic fist clenching and breathing like a WWF wrestler.
2. He or she may start to shouting that you are a poo-poo or the house is a poo-poo or the whole everything is a poo-poo.
3. At this point he or she grabs whatever item is closes to him or her…ex. Shoe, toy, cat…
4. Before he or she actually throws weapon of chose he or she may start spinning in circles… you may think it’s just their head but fear not it’s their whole body going at warp speeds.
5. I hope you know that the weapon they’ve been clenching on is coming at you and when anger strikes their accuracy is very… well accurate…Beware! (and if it’s the cat, she’s pissed, and she’s been spun in circles so the first object she lands on… not good.)
6. Banshee like screaming will be echoing through the entire house…and or neighborhood.
7. At this stage I’ve hoped you’ve taken cover… It can go on for two minutes or hours…hide with a book.

Warning temper tantrums maybe cause by asking if their thirsty, wiping a smudge of their face, not putting enough ice cream in their bowl, a casual smile, or just waking up…

Meddling Moppet

My seven year old daughter has just watched “Harriet the Spy”. Because of this my senses must be heightened at all times. Last night as I lie in bed, my oldest son was out , my three year old asleep, and my daughter is in her room quiet as mouse, the only sounds you could hear are coming from my T.V. but even they are at a minimum because I have it on closed captioning. So I’m basically in a media coma and out of my peripheral vision I see a shadow come slowly up on the other side of the bed… I yelp (really yelp, gasp loudly is that yelping?). It’s my daughter; she must have dragged herself with warlike precision into the bedroom without my knowledge (duh). I ask her, as I check the bed for any wetness due the “blank” being scared out of me, what she is doing, she said she is working on her spy skills and she needs a lot of practice, so can I just get back to watching T.V. so she can work. “What?” I am in bed wanting to be in a zombie like trance and now I am being stalked? Yes. As I lull back into it I hear a normally insignificant noise… and she’s right next to me on the floor. I suggest sleeping at this point, she is not happy I am ruining her spy skill training! She storms off. At some point I fell asleep unaware if she was over me counting every freckle (better sounding than age spots). Now as sit at the computer writing this story… something makes me glance to the left, and there she is hiding hunkered down with her sunglasses on and a pad and pencil in her hand… the words she has written in her spy notebook are, “why is mom always on the computer”… Ohhh she’s good…

to play dumb or not to play dumb

Kids scream. When it’s your first and only one you run each and every time. When you’ve got more than one, you pause, yell “what’s going on”, and then react accordingly to the problem. Maybe you won’t run off if let’s say the comment back is “he farted and it’s gross”, not a life- threatening incident. Although the scream is the same for the severed arm or he’s looking at me. I’m talking about my daughter of course, the one who just this morning was screaming that gray is not a color. Now last night my daughter and my youngest were watching a movie and I heard some screaming and even though I could have just yelled up I decided to actually get off my keister and look (I know mom of the year). I get upstairs and to my surprise they are both quiet but as I look at my daughter I can see she’s got a small scratch by her eye that is slightly bleeding. I have deduced with my keen Nancy Drew skills that my youngest has grabbed her and dug in. So I say “look at you sister you’ve hurt her”, my daughter looks at me with a surprised look “he has?” I again say to my toddler “she’s bleeding; it’s not nice to hurt people”. My daughter looks really puzzled, “I am?” At that point she (slow-mo) reaches up to touch by her eye, feels the small wound, and… screams! “It hurts so much!” Now I have realized that I should have kept my mouth shut. Is the saying “out of sight out of mind”… I should have stayed out of sight so I wouldn’t go out of my mind…my little drama queen.

P.S. Happy Valentine’s Day… where once again I’ve eaten things I’m not sure why were created in the first place. I mean this time of year you can find almost anything covered in chocolate (and we eat away unknowingly on what could be “who knows” but cover it in milk chocolate)…and as the saying goes, I believe, “eat now asks questions later”, it should be eat now pray later, Hey *IDEA*... chocolate covered Imodium! Killing two birds with one stone…

2-7-07

Oprah, I like you. You do a lot of charitable work; I’m with you most of the time but then all of the sudden you’ll say something that reminds me of how much money you really have. An example from a previous show is; the time you said you like fresh sheets every two days, and I agree I’d like fresh sheets every two days also but it would be I, me, and moi, who would have to do the job (maybe I’m making an assumption but I think you have a little household help… just going out on a limb with that guess). Yesterday’s show she had John Travolta on and he talked about getting her a car for her birthday (a Bentley, not used either I'm sure) because she gave cars to the whole audience… (again going out on a limb…I believe Pontiac or whoever paid for them and the audience still had to pay taxes). He asked if she still drives it, whenever she can she replies (I maybe misquoting but you get the gist). Then Tim Allen who basically has only a fraction of Oprah dollars said he almost bought a car he forgot he already had… the laughter was deafening. Can you imagine buying two of the same cars? … Hilarious! It’s very similar to the time I went to the store and bought some pickles… you know where I’m going… I already had some at home! Stop I can almost hear the chuckles… Oprah, Tim, or Mr. Travolta, my car is in the shop, maybe you’d like to loan out some wheels so I can get to work so I can pay to get my car out of the shop? Mmmm… just a loaner, I’ll give it back. Tomorrows show is the “secret” to wealth, happiness, spiritual peace, and whatnot. I’ll watch Oprah but please talk to the average person…please don’t tell us we need to have a rock from the planet Venus, a Cadillac Escalade, Maya Angelou on speed dial, and the ability to go back in time. We will all come up short and you’ll put another mile between yourself and the audience.

Pre-pre-teen

So have you ever had an argument that went on for 30 minutes? Probably right? But was the arguing over the intense problem of 6-4…that’s right, six takeaway four. My daughter wants to fight with you, if you don’t believe the answer is 3. She storms in here everyday after school, she’s 7, and because she used up all her “sweet” at school I’m immediately her chew toy. She will disagree with me at any turn, just to argue. “How was you’re day” is pretty much a safe starting ground and even for two minutes she’ll ramble on about her second grade adventures, but then as if someone hit a switch (the name of the switch… rhymes with switch). Her eyes start to squint, her teeny little nose begins to flair, and then you’ll hear a small growling…Screams. “What smells!”… “Amber says Cody’s cuter than Zach, that’s not true!”… “Whose breathing!” And then yesterday during homework, “6-4 is 3!” This went on and on. If she and I were just talking maybe we could have a sane discussion but she was banshee yelling, tears were flowing, arms were flailing, and my mind was cracking. I did everything to act sane… showing six items then taking away 4 , which of course left 2, I’d pleasantly ask her how many were left… she would sigh, look at me, grit her teeth and smile (like Charles Manson) and say 3. There were moments I thought my calculations were off , I only got to pre-algebra at school maybe I’m wrong, I’m in debt so obviously I can’t balance a checkbook maybe she was on to something. I also had a moment that I thought just walk away but my mature side took over and said “get her!” Literally at one moment I grabbed her across the counter like in the movies and said…ominously “TWO!” I left at that point went to run an errand and left her with her big brother, I believe that saved her life. She will never know how close she was. I am probably still holding some resentment from the “Target bathroom, no toilet paper incident” but that’s for another time… and my lawyer’s are still working on the temporary insanity issue, all that legal mumbo jumbo…

Happy?... Always...

Warning: The following contains gross out material not suited for… probably just my father, but maybe there are others like him.

So it’s that time of the month… you know where I’m going so stop reading now, save yourself. Of course everyone in this family probably knows, I mean spaghetti with a M&M sauce and a Motrin chaser gives it away each and every time (plus the bugged out eyes and twitches, also a give away). Anyway what I’m getting at is the monthly necessity needed, which for me is Always, has this new saying on each and every little thingamabob. It says “Have a Happy Period”… what? Happy? Firstly this must be a man’s brilliant campaign idea… a man who has obviously never seen Stephen King’s Carrie, *hint…she was far from happy. Happy, what does that mean, birds and whistling? Am I the only one who suffers from an iron deficiency, sudden weight gain (sumo weight gain is what I should say), a headache that starts at the end of your hair and goes to your toes, and a need to strangle living things (especially the man sleeping next to you)… is that happy? Let’s be real Always the little saying on your packaging should say “Homicide is a crime punishable by death, so let’s be careful out there”…. I will send you my bill… you’re welcome…

Dirty Mouth

I just wanted to talk about my toddler’s new word he likes to “throw out” when he gets perturbed…“Poo-poo”. When he says it he’ll cock his head side to side, tongue slightly out, and then he adds a little eye roll. It is annoying but now he’s added a word to it to emphasize his point. Now you all are probably thinking it’s an actual cuss word (If you know me you would bet on it)… it’s not but he really believes he’s added a hard core expletive to his vocab. He’s added “cowboy”. I am not kidding. The look he gives when he says it you know he’s not messing around. “Cowboy poo-poo” or “Poo-poo cowboy”, and us giggling probably doesn’t help curb the child’s appetite to use it. His aunt likes to call and wants to talk to him on the phone, he’ll wander around with the phone chit- chatting, and then he will bring it back to me. She said to me after one of their conversations that he’s so cute; he was saying “cowboy” this and that. I had to explain to her that he was basically calling her a %^$&$. Of course this brought on more hysterical laughing now the boy goes into performance mode. With the added body language, a swagger (it’s kinda what I’d call the fugetaboutit walk) only a Joe Pesci could pull off. You would almost think cowboy ranks right up there with some of the biggies (and I know all of you, you all know them words inside and out). Well I must go I just denied the third pack of gummies and we are swearing up a storm….

Intelligent life on Mars?

I didn’t start the dishwasher last night. I foolishly believed that my husband may start it. It was ready to go and the sink was empty. But as I entered the kitchen this morning I discovered that an apparent drinking game must have happen after I went to bed. Cups were lined around the counter; so many that even my daughter commented on them “what’s with all the cups.” Plus the sink was full again… Why? Is it because they (has to be my oldest and his father) are trying to make me crack? Am I not cracked enough? And why do I punish myself by leaving little tests out for them knowing that they will fail at them? Example: Laundry, after one day in our home it is spread all around upstairs, a lot of it too. You would think that I live with 15 people. Anyway the stuffs everywhere, so I’ll push it in a pile and lets say block the bathroom door with it (and my oldest son is in there). I wait, lurking around the corner, holding my breath until he opens the door… and I watch him step over it. Not only does he just step over he doesn’t even look down; this has got to be some sort of male gene. I block the stairs, I’ve blocked the garage door, and they (testosterone twosome) are immune. All they have to do is take it to the basement is that to much to ask? But if I put a full garbage bag out the garage door, not in the garbage can, who hears it, hmm, “can’t you just walk it over to the can”. Blah, blah, blah…I suppose I am dealing with the man who let a pee soaked towel sit in the kitchen sink all day while I was at work (read 7-24-06)… but how dare I not follow garbage protocol. And the dishwasher is just another failed attempt to see if anyone could go the extra step. I am Humpty Dumpty and I’m afraid I may fall off the wall…and because my husband and my oldest never look down, I won’t even get the attempt of trying to put me back together again…*sob…

1-9-07

Let me start by saying, Damn you Tostitos with a hint of lime, making yourself so irresistible that I ate you late at night, your salty tartness created a virtual assembly line right into my mouth. This (of course) caused me to be in the bathroom last night and have weird dreams. I think you should have a warning label… May cause insomnia, irritable bowel, and nightmares… but feel free to eat the whole bag (loser)! In the first part of my dream it started with all my teeth breaking and pieces falling out till there was basically nothing left (shut up all you who may say that’s vain… everybody wants their own teeth, take a poll!) The second part of my dream got more bizarre, I was in the bathroom, going to the bathroom, and people kept coming in and trying to talk to me. I kept trying to close the door but someone else would push it open. Then my sister- in- law pushed it open and she had brought Will Ferrell with her…? I know that sounds odd but even stranger she doesn’t even like Will (I do, I think you’re marvelous… call me). So why am I having some subconscious thought that I want her to like Will? This is my great desire? What about finding a bus load of money or ending world hunger or keeping my teeth… My sister- in- law liking Will Ferrell movies, that’s what I get?? Tostitos… I blame you…I’ve contacted a high powered food attorney as we speak… shame on you, you have robbed me of my sleep and my dreams…

Nature or Nurture

My father is in town which means stress is at an all time high. I need to begin my deep breathing exercises and start my yoga “ummmm’s”. He arrived pretty uneventfully and even as all the kids rolled in (six between my sister and I … 4 aged 4 and under) he remained fairly calm. But as my sister was waiting for her husband, so she could trade off and head to work, you could see the wringing off the hands, the lightly flushed face, and the elevated voice take over. He was counting down the minutes to her departure. Worrying about her making it to work on time you could actually see the sweat form under his pits. The man exudes tenseness and like a plague I immediately become infected…he’s the monkey in “Outbreak” and I am Renee Russo. I joke, I tease, anything to break the anxiety filled room. But he’s like rubber… “You know I’m rubber you’re glue whatever you say to me bounces off of me and sticks to you”… Well her husband arrives and she’s leaves on time, no worries … until we realize that she has forgotten her cell phone. Now you would have thought all the air was just sucked out of the room. At this point he wants to probably chase her down but he’s trying to act cool… and on an acting scale from 1 to 10… he’s a Gary Busey. So she has now called from work, which means she has arrived unscathed, now we can relax again. Four hours into his visit I can’t wait till I mention the jail sentence I must serve… ha-ha… deep breaths.

12-29-06

Ahh… well I know most of you have been on pins and needles to hear what I received for Christmas. Now I know you think I’m excited about my new Christmas hot pads and they are festive but… I got a new washing machine! I know this is going to sound like something out of a fairy tale land, you know where the prince rides up to save the day (probably with a u-haul because a horse would be pate lugging that thing around) and the princess (that would be me) in my Badgley Mishka one of a kind with my cascading curls that are like bouncy ringlets of joy, my teeth actually tan the townspeople as I smile, and … well you see where I’m going. It wasn’t quite like that because my prince was actually my in-laws…but it just sounds so romantic the other way, I mean I could see the harlequin novel “Purified Prince” or “Laundry Lothario”, I’m sure Fabio could do the cover (disclaimer: not a huge Fabio fan but I thought he could use a little plug… season for giving and all that.) Ok back to the top of the line, fancy schmancy, Big Bertha of washing machines, this baby is so exciting that my two youngest come downstairs to help me load because… hold on to your hats… it has a glass lid so you can watch the action as it happens (I should probably introduce them to the outside world once in awhile)! I know I’m blowing all you minds but this puppy’s got it all! It’s all digital and the only thing it doesn’t do is juggle… but I may be able to teach her. So at this point I would like to thank everybody for putting up with my daily breakdowns and boo-hoo’s. To my sister and my mother for using their machines when I was in need, Danke, to my in-laws for laying out the big dough, Grazie, to my husband for continually fixing the old one, Domo arigato mister roboto. Peace on earth and spin cycles to all!!!