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!!!