Bro Man proceeded to tell me, unprompted, that he has an addiction.
Guess what I am addicted to?
I dunno. Drugs?
Maaaamaaaaa. I'm addicted to Dad.
What's that mean?
Well, it means that I love spending time with Dad. And I love him so much. And I can never stop loving him. Even if Dad stopped loving me, I would still love Dad. And if I stopped loving Dad, Dad would still love me. That is what being addicted to Dad means.
(Just in case you all were wondering.)
Monday, June 30, 2008
You're How Old???!!!
Okay, since I can't get anyone to participate on the age game, I'll tell the story as to why I was asking.
Bro Man's coach for two years has called me Mrs. Davis. This is not and has never been my name. But not wanting to hurt his feelings or make him feel stupid, I just answered him. I knew he was referring to me. He asked Mr. Wonderful to help him coach. At opening ceremonies, he had him introduced as "Keith Davis." Of course, Mr. Wonderful does not move from the spot he is standing. I later informed Coach Nick that Davis is not our last name. (It is Bro Man's, but not ours.) So as the season went on, Keith was Keith and I was Mrs. Last Name. At the last game, I asked him to please not call me Mrs. Last Name because it made me feel old. His exact response was, "Good. You are old." Here's the conversation.
Nick: Good. You are old.
Me: I'm not old. I'm only 30.
Nick: Bullcrap! You're not 30.
Me: Yes, I am.
Nick: There's no way you're only 30.
Me: I am. Ask Keith.
Nick: I will. I know you are older than 30.
Me: Well, how old are you?
Nick: 29.
Me: You're 29 and you are calling me old.
Nick: Well, you drive a mini-van.
Me: Well, I have three kids. Two are still in carseats. Ever try fitting that many in a car?
Me to Keith: How old am I? Tell Nick the truth.
Keith: She's 30.
Nick: Bull.
Keith: I'm only 35.
Nick: Y'all are lying. You are old.
Me: When will you be 30?
Nick: Sept 28.
Me: Mine is Sept 30, so I am not even a year older than you. I can't believe you are calling me old.
Now, this really hurt my feelings. I have never, ever been accused of being older than I am. I guess having three kids and driving a minivan really ages someone. Dang Nick!
Bro Man's coach for two years has called me Mrs. Davis. This is not and has never been my name. But not wanting to hurt his feelings or make him feel stupid, I just answered him. I knew he was referring to me. He asked Mr. Wonderful to help him coach. At opening ceremonies, he had him introduced as "Keith Davis." Of course, Mr. Wonderful does not move from the spot he is standing. I later informed Coach Nick that Davis is not our last name. (It is Bro Man's, but not ours.) So as the season went on, Keith was Keith and I was Mrs. Last Name. At the last game, I asked him to please not call me Mrs. Last Name because it made me feel old. His exact response was, "Good. You are old." Here's the conversation.
Nick: Good. You are old.
Me: I'm not old. I'm only 30.
Nick: Bullcrap! You're not 30.
Me: Yes, I am.
Nick: There's no way you're only 30.
Me: I am. Ask Keith.
Nick: I will. I know you are older than 30.
Me: Well, how old are you?
Nick: 29.
Me: You're 29 and you are calling me old.
Nick: Well, you drive a mini-van.
Me: Well, I have three kids. Two are still in carseats. Ever try fitting that many in a car?
Me to Keith: How old am I? Tell Nick the truth.
Keith: She's 30.
Nick: Bull.
Keith: I'm only 35.
Nick: Y'all are lying. You are old.
Me: When will you be 30?
Nick: Sept 28.
Me: Mine is Sept 30, so I am not even a year older than you. I can't believe you are calling me old.
Now, this really hurt my feelings. I have never, ever been accused of being older than I am. I guess having three kids and driving a minivan really ages someone. Dang Nick!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Friday Foto Finish Fiesta
She's got music in her blood--she gets it naturally!! I truly love that Keith's musical talent has become such a huge part of our girls' lives. Their dad's passion has become theirs. It is so great. Emily has no choice but to be a vocalist--she would rather sing than play instruments. Kendall sings, but truly loves the drums. Ryan is starting to get into guitar now, but says he doesn't want Dad to show him how to play.
Now that you've seen this, hop on over to Candid Carrie's Friday Foto Finish Fiesta and give some love to some others. Have a Fantastic Friday!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
So Who's The Parent
Okay, so you'll have to read the Baby Daddy post to understand this is a little better. By BD had me freakin' furious last night. Now, I still have not gotten over the abandonment issues from my son's younger days. I am still infuriated about them, in fact. But in trying to be a good role model for my children, I always try to be pleasant to BD and Barbie. But all the sudden, he thinks because he sees Brother Man more than once a month now, he has the right to make decisions concerning him without consulting me. This is not a major decision, it is quite minor. But that is not the point. Bro Man's hair was getting to where it needed a trim. A trim. Not a total makeover. But Bro Man calls me last night and tells me he got his hair buzzed off. Now, let me set the stage for you. I was catching up on last week's Army Wives and squalling like a baby when the phone rang. This was the first thing I hear: "Mama, guess what? I got my hair cut." He tells me that it is cut like Mr. Wonderful's (a long buzz). Well, I stewed the whole time that he talked to Daddy and his sisters.
Then I ask him: "Who's idea was the haircut?"
Him: "Mrs. Barbie's."
Me: Who took you to get your haircut?
Him: Mrs. Barbie.
Me: Uh-huh. Well, I need to talk to BD.
So, BD tells me that Barbie was trying to surprise him by doing something nice like getting Bro Man's hair cut. Well, that pissed me off even more. It is bad enough that a sperm donor feels like he has the right to make ANY kind of decision concerning MY child, but now his girlfriend feels like she has the right to make that kind of determination.
Petty or not, Keith and I make the decisions concerning Ryan. No one else. He was my son when BD didn't want him. He was Keith's son when BD didn't want him. There are no takesy-backsies. I don't care if you claim to have changed, BD. You have not. You are still a freakin' liar. You are still all about you and what is convenient for you. And what is convenient for Barbie and Barbie's son. Here's an idea: Go marry her and the three of you can live unhappily ever after in your own little world. You've only been together like four years, so it might be time. Although, I know four years is your time limit on relationships. So better yet, kiss her farewell and go back to sneaking around dating married women and leave my son alone. You have more than enough opportunities to be a father to Bro Man and you have proven time and time again that you don't want it.
Anyway, he decides to call back last night. Not because he picked up on the not-so-hidden signals that I was mad, but because Barbie was upset. Who gives a flying flip about her? So I tell him that without drudging up things from the past that I am trying desperately to let go of, I really couldn't talk about it. I told him that a courtesy phone call would have been nice to see if it was okay with me. So he tells me that if I don't want to talk about it right then, then he doesn't expect to hear anything else about it. He says bye and hangs up. Newsflash: it has been six years since you began your abandonment of Ryan and I haven't let it go and I am not over it. I still bring it up. I will continue to bring it up as long as I am still mad about it. You do not wrong a child and then expect a mother to just forget about it. And I will continue to bring up the haircuts (yes, this has happened more than once) as many times and for as many years as I want to, jacko. Get a life and get out of ours!!
***Edit: Here's the controversial hair cut. You tell me if this is a buzz cut or not. Oh yeah!! Isn't he so very handsome?!!!
Then I ask him: "Who's idea was the haircut?"
Him: "Mrs. Barbie's."
Me: Who took you to get your haircut?
Him: Mrs. Barbie.
Me: Uh-huh. Well, I need to talk to BD.
So, BD tells me that Barbie was trying to surprise him by doing something nice like getting Bro Man's hair cut. Well, that pissed me off even more. It is bad enough that a sperm donor feels like he has the right to make ANY kind of decision concerning MY child, but now his girlfriend feels like she has the right to make that kind of determination.
Petty or not, Keith and I make the decisions concerning Ryan. No one else. He was my son when BD didn't want him. He was Keith's son when BD didn't want him. There are no takesy-backsies. I don't care if you claim to have changed, BD. You have not. You are still a freakin' liar. You are still all about you and what is convenient for you. And what is convenient for Barbie and Barbie's son. Here's an idea: Go marry her and the three of you can live unhappily ever after in your own little world. You've only been together like four years, so it might be time. Although, I know four years is your time limit on relationships. So better yet, kiss her farewell and go back to sneaking around dating married women and leave my son alone. You have more than enough opportunities to be a father to Bro Man and you have proven time and time again that you don't want it.
Anyway, he decides to call back last night. Not because he picked up on the not-so-hidden signals that I was mad, but because Barbie was upset. Who gives a flying flip about her? So I tell him that without drudging up things from the past that I am trying desperately to let go of, I really couldn't talk about it. I told him that a courtesy phone call would have been nice to see if it was okay with me. So he tells me that if I don't want to talk about it right then, then he doesn't expect to hear anything else about it. He says bye and hangs up. Newsflash: it has been six years since you began your abandonment of Ryan and I haven't let it go and I am not over it. I still bring it up. I will continue to bring it up as long as I am still mad about it. You do not wrong a child and then expect a mother to just forget about it. And I will continue to bring up the haircuts (yes, this has happened more than once) as many times and for as many years as I want to, jacko. Get a life and get out of ours!!
***Edit: Here's the controversial hair cut. You tell me if this is a buzz cut or not. Oh yeah!! Isn't he so very handsome?!!!
Monday, June 23, 2008
My Creations
As per Leigh's request, and as part of her challenge, these are some of the clothing creations I have come up with in the past few days. There are still plenty more to be made, but this is a good start. Let me know whatcha think. (Of course, they will have buttons and ribbons on the shoulders.) If you click on the pics you can see them larger. The fabric laying under the fairy dress will be the pants for that particular one. The rooster dress has a pair of the polka dot pants in white/black with a b/w ruffle. The first one is one that Leigh and I did together. I also did a pair of pajama shorts in a soldier print for Bro Man, and a green/white gingham seersucker jon-jon. Very cute!!! That one is a baby gift for a friend. I also today after I finished the fairy dress, finished one of the curtain panels I am making for my new room. I'll get those pics posted when I finish the other three. I hope I have enough pom-pom trim for the other three panels.
Perfectionist
My perfectionist 4yo is literally crying because she can't make a perfect N and a perfect S. Get that--now the N is perfectly fine-a proper N--but no, it isn't perfect. Now it is a Z. This should make me happy that she wants them to be perfect, but this crying and carrying on because of it is being perceived as a sign of distress that will later haunt me.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Bye Gobby!
It occurred to me today that I have not had Gobstoppers since my post on June 11. That is almost two weeks now. I think I may finally be ready to say bye to my precious, beloved Gobbies. And surprisingly, Baby K has not asked for any Grasshoppers. I may, just may, have kicked one of my bad habits. Only 8,000 more to go.
So, I got a new sewing machine today. I am very excited, but I have not even taken it out of the box yet. I'll probably wait and see if my niece comes over tomorrow.
Another funny kid moment: Bro Man was laying on the floor in the living room. He says, "Mama, that painting on the ceiling is really cool." We have a painting on the ceiling????? "Yeah. It looks like a unibrow." Where does the kid come up with stuff like this?
Bro Man is headed off to Barbie's house for the night and then Bio's house tomorrow for the night. On one hand, I will miss him. On the other, I am sick of his crying, of his screaming because he hurts himself every 2 minutes, and his forceful way of getting what he wants from the girls. I have tried time and time again to explain that just because he asks nicely doesn't mean he can snatch it from their grip as he is asking. If they don't want to give him whatever it is that he wants at that moment, then they don't have to. AARGH!!!!!! I'm pulling my hair out!
So, I got a new sewing machine today. I am very excited, but I have not even taken it out of the box yet. I'll probably wait and see if my niece comes over tomorrow.
Another funny kid moment: Bro Man was laying on the floor in the living room. He says, "Mama, that painting on the ceiling is really cool." We have a painting on the ceiling????? "Yeah. It looks like a unibrow." Where does the kid come up with stuff like this?
Bro Man is headed off to Barbie's house for the night and then Bio's house tomorrow for the night. On one hand, I will miss him. On the other, I am sick of his crying, of his screaming because he hurts himself every 2 minutes, and his forceful way of getting what he wants from the girls. I have tried time and time again to explain that just because he asks nicely doesn't mean he can snatch it from their grip as he is asking. If they don't want to give him whatever it is that he wants at that moment, then they don't have to. AARGH!!!!!! I'm pulling my hair out!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Funny Stuff
Okay (remember, I am starting every post now with okay), my children are absolutely hilarioso. I have started trying to write down or blog about the funny things that they say. Some of the Emily-isms are the best. I learned from one of my professors that you can add -ism to the end of any word and make a new one. She's the best at that.
Anyway, she asked once if it was raining dog-dogs and meows. Tooo cute.
Tonight, we went to see KungFu Panda. That is great. We laughed so much. Emily had to go to the bathroom about ten times in the last 45 minutes of the movie, which meant that Kendall had to go, too. Emily showed me some of her KungFu moves in the bathroom that she learned from the movie. When we got home, the kids played outside for about ten minutes, in which time she wet her pants.
Me: Emily, did you wet your pants?
Em: Yes ma'am.
Me: When? At the movies or outside?
Em: Outside.
Me: I am beginning to think you have a bladder infection or a kidney infection.
Em: Yep. It's definitely a kitty infection. Ryan, I have a kitty infection.
Now, instead of my first thought being that I have to share stuff like this with Keith, now my first thought is I have to share this with BlogWorld. So, Leigh, my one regular reader, I hope you enjoyed this.
Anyway, she asked once if it was raining dog-dogs and meows. Tooo cute.
Tonight, we went to see KungFu Panda. That is great. We laughed so much. Emily had to go to the bathroom about ten times in the last 45 minutes of the movie, which meant that Kendall had to go, too. Emily showed me some of her KungFu moves in the bathroom that she learned from the movie. When we got home, the kids played outside for about ten minutes, in which time she wet her pants.
Me: Emily, did you wet your pants?
Em: Yes ma'am.
Me: When? At the movies or outside?
Em: Outside.
Me: I am beginning to think you have a bladder infection or a kidney infection.
Em: Yep. It's definitely a kitty infection. Ryan, I have a kitty infection.
Now, instead of my first thought being that I have to share stuff like this with Keith, now my first thought is I have to share this with BlogWorld. So, Leigh, my one regular reader, I hope you enjoyed this.
Prayers Needed
Okay, first I have decided that I want to start every post with "Okay." I don't care if people judge me.
Here's why I need prayers. I am applying for my first teaching position for this fall. Now, I know that I am not certified (yet), but in certain school districts you can be hired under a temporary certificate if you already possess a bachelor's degree and are currently enrolled in school pursuing a master's in education. Other than paying daycare for two children, I really feel that this is what my family needs. Here is my problem: I don't know if it is God's plan or mine. I hope both.
What to pray: If this is God's will, I will find the right teaching job. That is, a good school with a great principal, a great staff, and a great class. Please pray that God will give me the wisdom to know when a great offer has come along, and to recognize what is His plan.
I know that I can be hired in a particular school district because they hired one girl without her even pursuing teaching certification. But I feel like that county would be rough. Now, it might be okay just to give me some experience and to make me appreciate a better school when I get there. Gas prices must be considered, so it will have to be a nearby school district. I am mailing out my application and resume today, so thanks for your prayers.
Here's why I need prayers. I am applying for my first teaching position for this fall. Now, I know that I am not certified (yet), but in certain school districts you can be hired under a temporary certificate if you already possess a bachelor's degree and are currently enrolled in school pursuing a master's in education. Other than paying daycare for two children, I really feel that this is what my family needs. Here is my problem: I don't know if it is God's plan or mine. I hope both.
What to pray: If this is God's will, I will find the right teaching job. That is, a good school with a great principal, a great staff, and a great class. Please pray that God will give me the wisdom to know when a great offer has come along, and to recognize what is His plan.
I know that I can be hired in a particular school district because they hired one girl without her even pursuing teaching certification. But I feel like that county would be rough. Now, it might be okay just to give me some experience and to make me appreciate a better school when I get there. Gas prices must be considered, so it will have to be a nearby school district. I am mailing out my application and resume today, so thanks for your prayers.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Phriday Photo Phun
So, awesome Candid Carrie has started this Phriday Photo Phun idea. Totally check her out. She is such a hoot! Here is my first picture.
This is a rare moment captured last football season before Ryan's game. Although you cannot see Emily's face, the love is so obviously there. It sooo warmed my heart to see this. I love the way she has her hands on his chest. See, they can be sweet. I must repeat this often. Maybe I should put this pic on the, as K says, "friderator" as proof.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Serial Blogging
The wonderful writers that you see listed on the left-hand side of my blog page have inspired me. I am working on a serial blog. I am seriously needing some comment loving, but even though I seldom get a comment, I am still addicted to blogging. I need to email some posts to SITS to see if I can get some of the sista love (and brotherly). I have been reeled in, wrapped around, consumed by, obsessed with some of the ongoing blog stories from my inspirations. I have some great stories that I can tell, but have to work on writing them interestingly enough to capture an audience. So hang with me and know that are more interesting things coming than stories of cursing children and pooping dogs.
Feeling Good
The humidity today was so much lower and we had a nice breeze, so the kids and I took advantage of it. We took a brisk walk this morning for about 45 minutes. The girls chilled in the double stroller, while brother cruised ahead on his bike. We got home and had lunch, then I went to cut the grass with the push mower. Yes. We still have a push mower. I know, I know. Nobody owns a push mower anymore. But I use as exercise. And I actually enjoy cutting grass. It feels oh-so-good to be on the move in something other than the grueling Alabama heat.
We have played musical rooms again. Keith and I are finally out of the living room and in a bedroom. The girls are together in the big room, and Ryan is quite content having the smaller room. The living room has now moved out of the den and into the living room where Keith and I have been sleeping for the last year. It only makes sense since it is the coolest room in the house and we spend the most time there. That leaves the den unoccupied. I have claimed it as my craft/sewing room. We have a built-in desk that serves as my sewing desk. I leave my sewing machine set up in there. There are all of the built-ins to house fabric and craft supplies. I put my old sewing desk in there and it will serve as my school desk. It has a hidden compartment where I can hide my school work to keep little paws off of it. We have decided to move both the dog and the cat's food bowls into that room, and the litter box will stay in there. I am so excited to have my own space. Maybe Mr. Wonderful and I can come up with some sort of schedule. He can have a certain number of nights kid-free in the music studio (another room in our house) and I can have alternating nights in the craft studio. Hopefully, that way we can both get something accomplished.
We finished the baseball season in second place. Only the first place team gets trophies, so Bro Man was quite upset. It has given him a goal to work towards. I like seeing motivation in him.
Well, I am off to clean the house. We have a Mr. Wonderful's vocalist coming over tonight to lay down some tracks. The house is a mess still since our room swap yesterday. Dishes to wash, laundry to wash, laundry to fold and fold and fold, and dining room to pick up.
Have a lovely afternoon!
We have played musical rooms again. Keith and I are finally out of the living room and in a bedroom. The girls are together in the big room, and Ryan is quite content having the smaller room. The living room has now moved out of the den and into the living room where Keith and I have been sleeping for the last year. It only makes sense since it is the coolest room in the house and we spend the most time there. That leaves the den unoccupied. I have claimed it as my craft/sewing room. We have a built-in desk that serves as my sewing desk. I leave my sewing machine set up in there. There are all of the built-ins to house fabric and craft supplies. I put my old sewing desk in there and it will serve as my school desk. It has a hidden compartment where I can hide my school work to keep little paws off of it. We have decided to move both the dog and the cat's food bowls into that room, and the litter box will stay in there. I am so excited to have my own space. Maybe Mr. Wonderful and I can come up with some sort of schedule. He can have a certain number of nights kid-free in the music studio (another room in our house) and I can have alternating nights in the craft studio. Hopefully, that way we can both get something accomplished.
We finished the baseball season in second place. Only the first place team gets trophies, so Bro Man was quite upset. It has given him a goal to work towards. I like seeing motivation in him.
Well, I am off to clean the house. We have a Mr. Wonderful's vocalist coming over tonight to lay down some tracks. The house is a mess still since our room swap yesterday. Dishes to wash, laundry to wash, laundry to fold and fold and fold, and dining room to pick up.
Have a lovely afternoon!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Kids Say the Darnedest Things
So, I have really started enjoying the humor of my children lately. And they say the cutest things--even when they are being ugly. Here are some of the conversations just from the last few days:
Daddy: Big Guy, your a sucker. (I really don't remember what they were talking about.)
Bro Man: Well, your a f*cker.
Daddy: What did you just call me?
Bro Man: a f*ucker.
Daddy: Don't say that. That is an ugly word.
Bro Man: Oh, I didn't know.
Daddy: (coming outside with me and Emily) Big Guy just called me a f*cker. (said in a whisper).
Me: What? Why? That's it. I will not tolerate that kind of language.
Daddy: No, he didn't know. That's pretty good. Making it to 8 and not knowing f*cker is a bad word.
Emily: Why did Brother call Daddy a f*ucker?
Me: Okay, you don't say it either because it is very ugly.
Em: Okay.
Last night at the movies:
Looking at the big cardboard cutout of Kung Fu Panda:
Baby K: Is that Uncle 'Wayne?
Me: Boo Ha Ha Ha Ha
Last night leaving the movies:
Bro Man: I'm never going to see my friends again.
Daddy: Yeah, man. These boys will be your friends for life.
Bro Man: No, I'll never see them again. None of them will ever come over to play or anything.
Baby K: Brother, shut your little mouth.
Mama: Bodee, don't talk like that to your brother.
K: (finger pointed to the sky) Mama, I'm the boss.
Bro Man: Don't you talk to me like that. You shut your mouth!
Mama: Okay, that's enough talking ugly to each other.
K: Brother, I'm the boss.
Today while potty training:
K: Bye-Bye teetee. Bye-bye guck. Mama, they're gone to heaven.
Em: Mama, when you flush guck and teetee they go straight to the beach.
Mama: Oh, so is that where all that water came from?
Em: Yep.
Sunday at the Cemetary:
Em: Mama, is this where Paw is?
Daddy: Paw is not here anymore. He's in heaven.
K: Where is Paw?
Em (pointing upward): He's up there.
K: No, those are clouds.
Em: Well, they look like angels to me.
Daddy: Big Guy, your a sucker. (I really don't remember what they were talking about.)
Bro Man: Well, your a f*cker.
Daddy: What did you just call me?
Bro Man: a f*ucker.
Daddy: Don't say that. That is an ugly word.
Bro Man: Oh, I didn't know.
Daddy: (coming outside with me and Emily) Big Guy just called me a f*cker. (said in a whisper).
Me: What? Why? That's it. I will not tolerate that kind of language.
Daddy: No, he didn't know. That's pretty good. Making it to 8 and not knowing f*cker is a bad word.
Emily: Why did Brother call Daddy a f*ucker?
Me: Okay, you don't say it either because it is very ugly.
Em: Okay.
Last night at the movies:
Looking at the big cardboard cutout of Kung Fu Panda:
Baby K: Is that Uncle 'Wayne?
Me: Boo Ha Ha Ha Ha
Last night leaving the movies:
Bro Man: I'm never going to see my friends again.
Daddy: Yeah, man. These boys will be your friends for life.
Bro Man: No, I'll never see them again. None of them will ever come over to play or anything.
Baby K: Brother, shut your little mouth.
Mama: Bodee, don't talk like that to your brother.
K: (finger pointed to the sky) Mama, I'm the boss.
Bro Man: Don't you talk to me like that. You shut your mouth!
Mama: Okay, that's enough talking ugly to each other.
K: Brother, I'm the boss.
Today while potty training:
K: Bye-Bye teetee. Bye-bye guck. Mama, they're gone to heaven.
Em: Mama, when you flush guck and teetee they go straight to the beach.
Mama: Oh, so is that where all that water came from?
Em: Yep.
Sunday at the Cemetary:
Em: Mama, is this where Paw is?
Daddy: Paw is not here anymore. He's in heaven.
K: Where is Paw?
Em (pointing upward): He's up there.
K: No, those are clouds.
Em: Well, they look like angels to me.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
How old am I???
I want to play a game. I am going to post a picture of myself and I want people to guess how old I am. This picture is from Easter. The only thing different is that my hair is cut in a graduated bob. Leigh, you can't play because you have an unfair advantage and you are soooo fired if you tell anyone the answer. I am also going to post another one in sunglasses with the haircut. So what's your guess?
Wittiness
K truly amazes me at her wittiness and verbal skills at 2 yo. Here is a conversation I had with her the other day:
Me: Bodee, you need to take that pullup off.
K: Why? I didn't teetee in it.
Me: Yes, you did. It is hanging down to your knees.
K: Well, I wheely don't care.
Me: Well, you better care.
K: Well, I wheely don't.
Me: (through snickering) Just go take the pullup off, you little monster.
Tie 'em up?
Okay, so we all have children who don't mind. Those of you who have teenagers are probably at wits end at times trying to figure out what you should do with them. My children are young. I admit there are times that I would love to lock them in a closet. No, I would NEVER do that. Please don't notify DHR that they should check in on my family. I reiterate... I would NEVER do that sort of thing. But as mad as our children can make us....as much as they know exactly what buttons to press and when....I could never do anything even close to what one North Carolina couple did to their 13 yo.
Mr. Wonderful informed me this morning of a story that Robin Meade would cover on the Morning Express show on CNN. (As a side note, I am absolutely thrilled that through all of his ogling of Robin, my husband actually hears what is being said on the show as well.) It seems a NC couple is on trial for tying their 13 yo to a tree for two nights because he was misbehaving. Okay....shocker: a thirteen year old boy was misbehaving. Turns out that the boy ended up dying as a result of this "punishment." I have always protested people tying dogs to trees. I have even seen such cruelty as horses tied to trees. But never, I mean never, have I heard such an outrage as parents tying their child to a tree for more than 18 hours with plastic ties and other things. These people are going to burn in hell. Can you just imagine the conversation on judgment day?? And I am not speaking of their verdict in court. I wish I was clever enough to come up with the potential conversation between this man and woman and God, but I am not. I will never be clever enough to pretend that I would know what God would say.
But I was reading the story online this morning, and Baby K was sitting in my lap. I had not mentioned the story, but when she saw the picture of the man, she said "Mama, he's all bad." Yes, even at 2 she was able to spot that the picture online was of a bad man.
I am just truly baffled by the minds of people who are capable of these types of heinous crimes. Who can look at their flesh and blood and think that tying them to a tree is proper punishment?? Ooohhh...judgment day is coming, folks!
Mr. Wonderful informed me this morning of a story that Robin Meade would cover on the Morning Express show on CNN. (As a side note, I am absolutely thrilled that through all of his ogling of Robin, my husband actually hears what is being said on the show as well.) It seems a NC couple is on trial for tying their 13 yo to a tree for two nights because he was misbehaving. Okay....shocker: a thirteen year old boy was misbehaving. Turns out that the boy ended up dying as a result of this "punishment." I have always protested people tying dogs to trees. I have even seen such cruelty as horses tied to trees. But never, I mean never, have I heard such an outrage as parents tying their child to a tree for more than 18 hours with plastic ties and other things. These people are going to burn in hell. Can you just imagine the conversation on judgment day?? And I am not speaking of their verdict in court. I wish I was clever enough to come up with the potential conversation between this man and woman and God, but I am not. I will never be clever enough to pretend that I would know what God would say.
But I was reading the story online this morning, and Baby K was sitting in my lap. I had not mentioned the story, but when she saw the picture of the man, she said "Mama, he's all bad." Yes, even at 2 she was able to spot that the picture online was of a bad man.
I am just truly baffled by the minds of people who are capable of these types of heinous crimes. Who can look at their flesh and blood and think that tying them to a tree is proper punishment?? Ooohhh...judgment day is coming, folks!
Monday, June 16, 2008
Emily's Song Writing
My 4 yo is a songwriter/singer at heart. She has written some classics. I'd like to share a few with you. I truly wish I could share them set to music, but she is a little shy about recorded performances. So you only get the lyrics.
Song 1: I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared of dinosaurs (repeated 711 times)
Song 2: Boom like a drumma-drum, Boom like a drumma-drum
Song 3: I'm all alone when the power went out, I'm all alone when the power went out, I'm all alone when the power went out.
Some of these are quite catchy. She even comes up with the melodies. Song 3 is her latest one from Saturday night. There are new songs daily, most of them about not caring about something or another. She is toooooo funny!!
Song 1: I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared of dinosaurs (repeated 711 times)
Song 2: Boom like a drumma-drum, Boom like a drumma-drum
Song 3: I'm all alone when the power went out, I'm all alone when the power went out, I'm all alone when the power went out.
Some of these are quite catchy. She even comes up with the melodies. Song 3 is her latest one from Saturday night. There are new songs daily, most of them about not caring about something or another. She is toooooo funny!!
Baby Daddy
There are so many traumatic stories that I could share with you about Baby Daddy. He asked me to have an abortion when I told him I was pregnant. That just wasn't even a consideration. Brother Man and I left him when Bro Man was 1 1/2. He saw Bro Man for a couple of months regularly, but after his second birthday he disappeared for 18 months. Not a phone call, not a card, not an email, not a visit. That was okay with me. He really was not someone I wanted my child to learn anything from. In the meantime, I started dating Mr. Wonderful and he became "Daddy." Bro Man didn't need Baby Daddy. He was happy and well-adjusted in our new life. Well, Baby Daddy started feeling guilty and decided to start seeing him again. During one of our disagreements, he threatened to take Bro Man to Ohio and there was nothing I could do about it. That is when it occurred to me that it was time for a custody arrangement. Since we were not married, we had no papers drawn up. Baby Daddy eventually disappeared again. When Mr. Wonderful and I got married, he told me that he would sign over his rights. He did not want Bro Man to live with him if I died, and if Mr. Wonderful died too, Bro Man could live with my sister. When I was pregnant with my second child, the custody/child support papers were finally finalized. Baby Daddy started seeing Bro Man again because as he put it, "He had to get some people off of his back." Great reason to start seeing your son!!
Fast forward a few years and Baby Daddy has a Barbie girlfriend. You know, skinny be-otch with long blond hair. My polar opposite. Okay, she really is great. She has a child that is 2 years younger than Bro Man. She accomplished something that I could never accomplish....she got Baby Daddy to go to church. She also steadily encourages him to build a relationship with Bro Man. But instead, her son has that relationship. Anyway, Friday night Barbie calls and wants Bro Man to spend the weekend with her and her son. He would go with her to her dad's house on Saturday, spend Sunday with them, then stay with Baby Daddy on Monday. Well, Saturday night Bro Man calls crying his eyes out, blubbering about being home sick. We make arrangements to meet her halfway to get him (we live an hour apart). Baby Daddy calls back and informs us that he is on his way to Barbie's house to inform Bro Man that he will not be coming home. It was ridiculous at that time of night and in the rain for us to exchange him. Sunday (Father's Day) came and went without any word from Bro Man. I was a little insulted for Mr. Wonderful because he is the Daddy. However, Baby Daddy gained some respect points when he called yesterday evening to tell me that he tried to get Bro Man to call Mr. Wonderful but he was busy swimming. However, Barbie and Bro Man had just dropped off Barbie's son with his father, and Bro Man was homesick again and crying to come home. I called Barbie and I talked to a now blubbering Bro Man.
Bro Man: Mama, please! I love you so much. And I miss you. I just want to come home to see the girls. And you. And Dad.
Mama: Don't you want to stay and go see Kung Fu Panda tomorrow? Tonight you'll have Barbie all to yourself and have movie night.
Bro Man: I'll just watch Kung Fu Panda with you and Dad.
Mama: We're not going to watch Kung Fu Panda.
Bro Man: Then we'll just rent it when it comes out at the movie store. Please, Mama! I love you so much.
Then he gets on the phone with Mr. Wonderful. He tells Daddy that he would pick us over a movie anytime. He loves us way more than the movies. Mr. Wonderful, with tears in his eyes, tells me we have to go get Bro Man after he just said that. So we pack up the girls, blankets, cups, take Jack out to potty, and drive the hour to rescue our little homesick boy. Much to Baby Daddy's dismay, Barbie and I had a talk about Baby Daddy. It is amazing the lies that man has told to make himself look better to her. Turns out, he claims I tried to force him to sign over his rights, not that he willingly told me that on the phone. He never told her that 18 months passed where he never contacted Bro Man. I told her the reason that I don't feel like I should force Bro Man to go see him is because he has always gotten to choose when he wants to be a dad, and Bro Man is forced to play along. I reminded her that Bro Man truly is not missing out on anything by not having a relationship with Baby Daddy, because he has a Daddy. In fact, he calls Baby Daddy his step-dad and Mr. Wonderful is his real dad.
I love my sweet baby boy and my wonderful, loving husband. I can't imagine life without either one of them. I am so ready for Bro Man to wake up this morning so I can get those great morning squeezer hugs.
Sorry for the long rambling post. I just needed to write about this.
Fast forward a few years and Baby Daddy has a Barbie girlfriend. You know, skinny be-otch with long blond hair. My polar opposite. Okay, she really is great. She has a child that is 2 years younger than Bro Man. She accomplished something that I could never accomplish....she got Baby Daddy to go to church. She also steadily encourages him to build a relationship with Bro Man. But instead, her son has that relationship. Anyway, Friday night Barbie calls and wants Bro Man to spend the weekend with her and her son. He would go with her to her dad's house on Saturday, spend Sunday with them, then stay with Baby Daddy on Monday. Well, Saturday night Bro Man calls crying his eyes out, blubbering about being home sick. We make arrangements to meet her halfway to get him (we live an hour apart). Baby Daddy calls back and informs us that he is on his way to Barbie's house to inform Bro Man that he will not be coming home. It was ridiculous at that time of night and in the rain for us to exchange him. Sunday (Father's Day) came and went without any word from Bro Man. I was a little insulted for Mr. Wonderful because he is the Daddy. However, Baby Daddy gained some respect points when he called yesterday evening to tell me that he tried to get Bro Man to call Mr. Wonderful but he was busy swimming. However, Barbie and Bro Man had just dropped off Barbie's son with his father, and Bro Man was homesick again and crying to come home. I called Barbie and I talked to a now blubbering Bro Man.
Bro Man: Mama, please! I love you so much. And I miss you. I just want to come home to see the girls. And you. And Dad.
Mama: Don't you want to stay and go see Kung Fu Panda tomorrow? Tonight you'll have Barbie all to yourself and have movie night.
Bro Man: I'll just watch Kung Fu Panda with you and Dad.
Mama: We're not going to watch Kung Fu Panda.
Bro Man: Then we'll just rent it when it comes out at the movie store. Please, Mama! I love you so much.
Then he gets on the phone with Mr. Wonderful. He tells Daddy that he would pick us over a movie anytime. He loves us way more than the movies. Mr. Wonderful, with tears in his eyes, tells me we have to go get Bro Man after he just said that. So we pack up the girls, blankets, cups, take Jack out to potty, and drive the hour to rescue our little homesick boy. Much to Baby Daddy's dismay, Barbie and I had a talk about Baby Daddy. It is amazing the lies that man has told to make himself look better to her. Turns out, he claims I tried to force him to sign over his rights, not that he willingly told me that on the phone. He never told her that 18 months passed where he never contacted Bro Man. I told her the reason that I don't feel like I should force Bro Man to go see him is because he has always gotten to choose when he wants to be a dad, and Bro Man is forced to play along. I reminded her that Bro Man truly is not missing out on anything by not having a relationship with Baby Daddy, because he has a Daddy. In fact, he calls Baby Daddy his step-dad and Mr. Wonderful is his real dad.
I love my sweet baby boy and my wonderful, loving husband. I can't imagine life without either one of them. I am so ready for Bro Man to wake up this morning so I can get those great morning squeezer hugs.
Sorry for the long rambling post. I just needed to write about this.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Happy Father's Day
Today is a day of mixed emotions. It is a day to honor my dad, whom I love dearly and worry about incessantly. It is also a day to ignore my husband just like he ignored me on Mother's Day. But what makes today sad, it is our first Father's Day without Keith's dad.
Times with my dad were not always peaches and cream. See, he was an alcoholic. He was never physically abusive, but had rages and said many hurtful things. We were terrified of him. I was so young and thought that was the way it was supposed to be. My mom packed all five of us girls up and moved to Alabama. Why am I rehashing all of the bad memories on a day to honor my father? Well, to tell you why I am so proud of him. My dad had to make a choice: his family or the alcohol. He made the decision that he couldn't live without his family. He moved to Alabama to join us. He has now been alcohol-free for 22 years. I love my dad so much. He is such a nut.
Dad, I love you so much. Thank you for teaching us to be strong, independent women. We love you beyond belief.
Keith, you are such an amazing husband and father. Happy Father's Day, my love. Thanks for keeping me sane. I love you, Mr. Wonderful.
Times with my dad were not always peaches and cream. See, he was an alcoholic. He was never physically abusive, but had rages and said many hurtful things. We were terrified of him. I was so young and thought that was the way it was supposed to be. My mom packed all five of us girls up and moved to Alabama. Why am I rehashing all of the bad memories on a day to honor my father? Well, to tell you why I am so proud of him. My dad had to make a choice: his family or the alcohol. He made the decision that he couldn't live without his family. He moved to Alabama to join us. He has now been alcohol-free for 22 years. I love my dad so much. He is such a nut.
Dad, I love you so much. Thank you for teaching us to be strong, independent women. We love you beyond belief.
Keith, you are such an amazing husband and father. Happy Father's Day, my love. Thanks for keeping me sane. I love you, Mr. Wonderful.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Men are such babies
My husband came home sick from work today. Now, before I tell you what a baby he is, I will have to tell you that he NEVER comes home sick and NEVER calls in. However, at 10:30 today he came home and went straight to bed because his stomach was hurting. His stomach was hurting. Now, I am the one who had a stomach virus for five days, but not once did I find someone to watch the kids so I could sleep because my stomach hurt. Right now, I have a sort throat and achy ears, but I am still up, still cleaned, still took care of the kids, still sewed with my bestie/sister, still have to go to ballgames tonight and yell like there is no tomorrow. Why don't women get to be babies when we are sick? I wanted to go to bed at like 7:00 last night. However, it was 10:30 before I even got to attempt to sleep.
On another note, my sister Leigh of Graham Shenanigans came down today with my two nieces to sew. We haven't been able to get together lately to do any projects, so it was a great treat. The kids kept our kitten and dog under control while we accomplished some great things. Leigh, thanks for sharing those patterns. You make my sewing life so much easier. I also forgot to pay you for the Diet Coke, so thanks for that special gift! Leigh's daughter took some wonderful pictures of the my kids today and I can't wait to post them. We used the Elfi Fairy fabric to make a very cute little a-line shirt lined with MM pink ta dot. Turned out absolutely adorable.
No funny animal stories to post today. Or gross ones either. It has been a rather uneventful day. I hope to have time to post a snippets post later of funny things that my kids say.
Got a letter from my college today (currently getting my Master's in Elem Ed) stating that I had not taken some necessary steps. There were three things listed, two tests and fingerprint clearance. Well, here's a note, morons. I have taken and passed all parts of 1 test, have not registered to take the second, and have not once, but twice been cleared to enter schools. Please keep up with important documents that pertain to your students. We are required to keep up with all of our important school work. What if we "misplaced" it? It was my responsibility to take the test and have it sent to you. I did my part. Please do yours.
Is it sad that Emily refers to the ice pack as her "friend"? I guess it has comforted her so many times now, it should feel like her mother to her.
Well, I will try to post some snippets later. After the ballgame. Toodles.
On another note, my sister Leigh of Graham Shenanigans came down today with my two nieces to sew. We haven't been able to get together lately to do any projects, so it was a great treat. The kids kept our kitten and dog under control while we accomplished some great things. Leigh, thanks for sharing those patterns. You make my sewing life so much easier. I also forgot to pay you for the Diet Coke, so thanks for that special gift! Leigh's daughter took some wonderful pictures of the my kids today and I can't wait to post them. We used the Elfi Fairy fabric to make a very cute little a-line shirt lined with MM pink ta dot. Turned out absolutely adorable.
No funny animal stories to post today. Or gross ones either. It has been a rather uneventful day. I hope to have time to post a snippets post later of funny things that my kids say.
Got a letter from my college today (currently getting my Master's in Elem Ed) stating that I had not taken some necessary steps. There were three things listed, two tests and fingerprint clearance. Well, here's a note, morons. I have taken and passed all parts of 1 test, have not registered to take the second, and have not once, but twice been cleared to enter schools. Please keep up with important documents that pertain to your students. We are required to keep up with all of our important school work. What if we "misplaced" it? It was my responsibility to take the test and have it sent to you. I did my part. Please do yours.
Is it sad that Emily refers to the ice pack as her "friend"? I guess it has comforted her so many times now, it should feel like her mother to her.
Well, I will try to post some snippets later. After the ballgame. Toodles.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Tired
It occurred to me again yesterday (again) that I am tired of being fat. A parent's abs should not be sore from a slip 'n slide. But mine and Keith's both are. It also occurred to me that I am really not willing to compromise my eating habits or start exercising anytime soon. I mean asking a girl to give up Gobstoppers ( or as Kendall says "Grasshoppers") is a little extreme just to lose weight. And who can beat a $5 hot and ready pizza from Little Caesar's on game nights??? But last night we had a looooonnnnngggggg baseball practice (6-9) before our big game on Thursday. I got so entirely sick of watching the outfielders picking their noses and sitting there with their thumbs up their butts as the ball rolled by, I asked permission to go to the outfield and work with those two specifically. After about 711 demonstrations of sliding your feet, I realized I was exercising. I certainly did not plan to exercise. See I must plan that sort of thing. I planned on sitting in my pink chair with my feet on the fence being an armchair coach, like I always do. So I came home last night and did lots of lunges (well to my weak knees it seemed like alot) and did crunches. Did you hear me???? I accidentally exercised which sparked me to purposely exercise. This is huge. It might just be my breakthrough. I intend to think about that today while I finish this box of Gobstoppers.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Hopefully the last post of its kind
Okay, I can stomach alot, but this--I did not sign up for this. When I wanted a dog, I knew that there was going to be much upkeep and care required. However, why did I have to pick a dog that has bowel issues?????? He either poops all over the house or can't do it at all. From my post earlier today, you can tell that I have had several hours of Jack's "problems". I have been gagging every time I am near him all afternoon long. Keith and I have been searching the house over the the pile of poop that usually awaits me from such a long time of funk. Only we came up empty. (Well, I say empty--we did find cat poo). Keith has been busy blaming the cat and rising to Jack's defense. But I knew. Mama's know these things. So I am sitting in my rocker watching "Gilmore Girls" waiting for Jack's flea medicine to start working so that maybe, just maybe, he can sit with me again. But the smell is overwhelming. He was laying on the vent behind my chair, suffocating me with a putrid smell. I felt like someone had wiped poo under my nose--I just couldn't get the smell out of nose. It was awful. Jack, trying to get some Mama time, attempted to jump into the chair with me. But since I just saw fleas on him a few minutes before, I did not let him. It was then that I saw it. A BIG WAD of poo matted all over his butt and I began to vomit in my mouth. Oh yeah--don't leave yet. It gets better than that. I proceed to lay Jack down and clean his butt with baby wipes. Yes, you heard me correctly--clean his butt!! This, without a doubt, is the most disgusting thing I have ever had to do. I can clean babies butts all day long---but not Stupid's doggy poo. And not only did it take about 20 wipes, I got bit. On the hand. Not hard, just enough to warrant a slap on the nose and a harsh tone. Then Jack just lays on his back, legs in the air, just like he has seen the kids do and lets me clean his butt, all the while pulling out quite a bit of hair from the anus region. I do think this occurrence has cured me from wanting a dog. I guess I will have to re-research whether Schnauzer's have lots of bowel problems. I don't know if I could possibly perform this task without being paid a large sum of money to do it. But, if any one needs their dog's butts wiped and have a large sum of money, I am your woman. Maybe this can be my job--lead butt wiper. I need some suggestions for my title to put on my business cards. My life is so great.
Freak Out
Yesterday, I was doing laundry (which I absolutely have a love/hate thing with). I was trying to get R's ball uniform washed before the game last night. We have white pants. What's the point, right? I grabbed several handfuls of clothes and threw them into the washer. I grabbed a second handful of laundry to throw in the washer and something warm and furry moved in the basket. I screamed and threw the clothes in my hand, only to find Sophie kitty in the basket. Talk about a friggin' heart attack!!!!!!! Kendall claims the credit for putting her there to protect her from Stupid. On a side note, Keith really wants me to stop calling him (Jack, not Keith) Stupid. I guess I can keep calling Keith that. Shhhh.... don't tell him though!
Remember
Remember those shirts that they used to sell in the 90s--the Butt Naked shirts. They had a butt naked troll on them doing some sort of activity. My BIL is a firefighter, and I remember him having a butt naked firefighting shirt. Well, I was brutally reminded of these shirts today when I got home from watering my sister's plants. The kids were in the backyard playing on the slip 'n slide. Keith advised me to check out the backyard. There was Kendall is all her glory. Butt naked slip 'n sliding. I soooo wish I could post a picture of it on here, but I do not want to be accused by anyone of child pornography. I also did not want to be known as one of those Alabama moms whose children run around the neighborhood buck nekkid during the summer. But it was clearly aware to me that Kendall had not a care in the world. But here we are in the house now, and while Kendall has on a pullup, Emily is still buck nekkid. I have told her seven thousand three hundred fifty four times to put on some panties and clothes, but apparently there is something liberating about running around buck nekkid. I am wondering why she adamantly refuses to put on clothes.
Other things I am wondering....
1. Why Jack just came back from one of his neighborhood romps smelling like a big pile of s**t
2. Is 6 months too old to change the name of a pet
3. When the cleaning fairy is going to arrive (is there such a thing? I need to know.)
4. Why my children only ask questions that require a "no" answer
5. If my house is now contaminated by fleas from Jack and Sophie
6. How much Keith is going to freak out when I get Jack groomed next week
7. How long the freshly cleaned carpet is going to smell clean
8. If Jack still going to use the master br as a bathroom when Keith and I move in it
9. If Ryan is ever going to stop eating or grow as a result of the amount he eats
10. If Kendall's newly formed cough is going to require a doctor's visit
11. If I am ever going to complete one of my daily to-do lists
12. If I am ever going to have the time to sew again
13. If my children will ever stay in bed the first time I put them there
14. Why our baseball team always performs to the level of the competition
15. Why Jack is laying on the air conditioner vent so it blows his filthy stink everywhere
16. How people survive summertime without air conditioning
17. Why Washington got snow yesterday and we hit 100 degrees
18. Why I live somewhere where the temperature reaches 100 degrees
19. If my children truly are the loudest children on the face of the earth
and
20. If I will ever like my hair again (have you ever tried to straighten frizzy/curly hair in Southern humidity?)
Other things I am wondering....
1. Why Jack just came back from one of his neighborhood romps smelling like a big pile of s**t
2. Is 6 months too old to change the name of a pet
3. When the cleaning fairy is going to arrive (is there such a thing? I need to know.)
4. Why my children only ask questions that require a "no" answer
5. If my house is now contaminated by fleas from Jack and Sophie
6. How much Keith is going to freak out when I get Jack groomed next week
7. How long the freshly cleaned carpet is going to smell clean
8. If Jack still going to use the master br as a bathroom when Keith and I move in it
9. If Ryan is ever going to stop eating or grow as a result of the amount he eats
10. If Kendall's newly formed cough is going to require a doctor's visit
11. If I am ever going to complete one of my daily to-do lists
12. If I am ever going to have the time to sew again
13. If my children will ever stay in bed the first time I put them there
14. Why our baseball team always performs to the level of the competition
15. Why Jack is laying on the air conditioner vent so it blows his filthy stink everywhere
16. How people survive summertime without air conditioning
17. Why Washington got snow yesterday and we hit 100 degrees
18. Why I live somewhere where the temperature reaches 100 degrees
19. If my children truly are the loudest children on the face of the earth
and
20. If I will ever like my hair again (have you ever tried to straighten frizzy/curly hair in Southern humidity?)
Friday, June 6, 2008
Food Nazis
This blogging is getting addictive. I can just write a complaint one big time and there it is for everyone to hear. Church is church. Isn't the point to make people want to come back? To show God's love through kind actions and words? Well, last year at VBS was my first encounter with the food nazis. Our snack one day was ice cream with oreos crushed on top. I do not eat oreos. Yes, I am American and I do not eat oreos. Hello, my name is Heather and I do not eat oreos. I do not like the disgusting left overs on peoples faces and the ugly shade of dirt left on their teeth after they eat them. Anyway, I got my ice cream cup and scraped the horridness that is the crushed cookies into the trash. Enter Food Nazi #1.
#1: What are you doing?
Me: Oh, I don't eat oreos.
#1: Well, if you didn't want oreos on your ice cream, you could have asked for ice cream without them.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize there were ice cream cups without them.
#1: I can't believe that you would do that. Those cookies took time to crush. We used our hands to crush those cookies for snack and you are scraping them in the trash.
Me: I'm sorry. I really do appreciate you taking the time to crush cookies by hand for the ice cream cups. I'll know better next time.
Now, fast forward 1 year to this years VBS. I was very cautious not to tick off FN #1. I almost made it through the week when yesterday she came to me for the very first time since the above conversation took place. She had the wrong count for the number of kids because I didn't give her a count. I am not in charge of our group. Our group leader didn't come so I didn't know anything about giving a count. No one asked me for a count. The way I see it is that she was at fault for not asking me. You can't just assume that everyone knows the way everything operates when they are filling in.
Today, I celebrate because I survived another year of VBS at this church who does things so different from my last one. Tonight we had a pool party to fellowship together. I have had a stomach virus sort of and didn't feel like going. But I relented and took my 8 and 4 year old. The youth pastor approaches me and asks if I am feeling okay because I look awfully pail. She suggests I go get myself something to drink. Enter Food Nazi #2, #1's husband. Emily and I walk to the other end of the giant pool and he is standing at the cooler.
Me: I need to get something to drink.
#2: Well, you can in five minutes when we eat.
Me (to myself): Are you freakin' kidding me???? What is it with these people and food? He is going to make me wait 5 minutes to get something to drink.
Well, apparently my facial expression spoke for me and Emily and I just walked off. #2 follows me to the end of the pool and says, "You can go ahead and get her something to drink if you want." Again: Are you kidding me???? I just sat down, about to pass out, in 95 degree weather and now I don't have to wait five minutes? I said, "It was for me. I'll just wait until time to eat." In my head I am thinking that he can take his drinks and shove them. I will wait until I get home or until the medics are called and I get IVs before I go get a drink.
#1: What are you doing?
Me: Oh, I don't eat oreos.
#1: Well, if you didn't want oreos on your ice cream, you could have asked for ice cream without them.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize there were ice cream cups without them.
#1: I can't believe that you would do that. Those cookies took time to crush. We used our hands to crush those cookies for snack and you are scraping them in the trash.
Me: I'm sorry. I really do appreciate you taking the time to crush cookies by hand for the ice cream cups. I'll know better next time.
Now, fast forward 1 year to this years VBS. I was very cautious not to tick off FN #1. I almost made it through the week when yesterday she came to me for the very first time since the above conversation took place. She had the wrong count for the number of kids because I didn't give her a count. I am not in charge of our group. Our group leader didn't come so I didn't know anything about giving a count. No one asked me for a count. The way I see it is that she was at fault for not asking me. You can't just assume that everyone knows the way everything operates when they are filling in.
Today, I celebrate because I survived another year of VBS at this church who does things so different from my last one. Tonight we had a pool party to fellowship together. I have had a stomach virus sort of and didn't feel like going. But I relented and took my 8 and 4 year old. The youth pastor approaches me and asks if I am feeling okay because I look awfully pail. She suggests I go get myself something to drink. Enter Food Nazi #2, #1's husband. Emily and I walk to the other end of the giant pool and he is standing at the cooler.
Me: I need to get something to drink.
#2: Well, you can in five minutes when we eat.
Me (to myself): Are you freakin' kidding me???? What is it with these people and food? He is going to make me wait 5 minutes to get something to drink.
Well, apparently my facial expression spoke for me and Emily and I just walked off. #2 follows me to the end of the pool and says, "You can go ahead and get her something to drink if you want." Again: Are you kidding me???? I just sat down, about to pass out, in 95 degree weather and now I don't have to wait five minutes? I said, "It was for me. I'll just wait until time to eat." In my head I am thinking that he can take his drinks and shove them. I will wait until I get home or until the medics are called and I get IVs before I go get a drink.
Dishes
Okay, I truly hate cleaning. I love for my house to be clean, but I definitely don't want to be the one that does it. With that being said, I am not always on top of the dishes. I have not let them accumulate in some time, just may not wash the few things we use every day. Well, as you learned from my previous post, this week is VBS. None of us are home all morning long. I put the girls down after eating lunch, and I have fallen asleep on the couch every afternoon. These VBS kids are sucking the life out of me!!! However, the dishes were done on Tuesday. Wednesday afternoon, my niece looked for a spoon in the drawer. Smartie pants Ryan said, "There will never be spoons in there again." Kasey: "Why?" Ryan: "Because my mom never washes the dishes." Kasey started laughing and told me. I immediately went to the kitchen and used my very best Vanna White arms, showed Ryan the draining board full of eating utensils. I advised him not to speak unless he knows what he is talking about. Little brat!
Thursday, June 5, 2008
My Heart Can't Take This
OMG!!!!! I love being a sports mom, but I can' t take the stress. Our boys loooovvveeee to play nail biters!!!! And I am one of those loud, obnoxious mothers. Well, not really obnoxious--just very much a cheerleader for our team. I coach those boys from the bleachers, from the fence, from the bathroom, from the concession stand. I do apologize to the people sitting around me before hand because I know that I am going to be loud. Most of them know from either playing us before or watching our games that I am a yeller. I talk to those boys about their position in the field, their base running, where the play is, their batting stance. My blood pressure shoots up so high during the final innings of games because we tend to blow BIG leads. For example, tonight in the second inning, we had the other team 11-0. They took three runs away from us for some unexplained reason, so we were backed up to 8-0. We let them come back to 8-5 in the bottom of the second. At the bottom of the fifth, they tied it 16 all. We went to a sixth inning in which we scored three. We managed with help from a two strikeouts to be in a one out game situation. We were up three with two outs and they got to the heart of their batting order. Two runners got on base with the winning run at the plate. And I cannot tell you the number of times we have been in this situation. I was pacing. I was fidgeting. I was yelling my heart out. My freakin' head was about to explode from the sudden onset of out-of-this-world blood pressure. It was a slow roller to first and Anthony made the play. Awesome! We are now a one-loss team who plays an undefeated team next Thursday night for a chance at the championship. We have three games next week. Two against the Yankees who have not won this season, and one against The Undefeateds. No one seems to think that we stand much of a chance against The Undefeateds, because until Monday night they had beat everyone by double digits. Monday night they barely pulled one out against the team we beat tonight. If we beat them Thursday, we will be forced to play a rained out game against them as a tie-breaker for the championship. So, basically in a nutshell, we need to win out and beat The Undefeateds a second time. Hopefully, I will be alive to see it and not dead from cardiac arrest. I wonder if Ryan would keep playing and Keith keep coaching if I keeled over?! I think they might. They would have time to be sad later. Gosh, I hope one of my sisters is at the game to take care of the girls when I die. They will have to have someone buy them popcorn and drinks once I perish. "Reba" can still take them to the bathroom since they ask her to take them every time.
The whole point of this blog is that my heart is not going to withstand another 10+ years of this. I will bust a blood vessel or have an aneurysm. Is it possible to die just from the stress of years of nail-biters? I mean I truly have to walk away some times. I close my eyes because I just can't stand to see. And Ryan wants to play college ball-- someone's got to cut Moms some slack!
Peace out and power to the White Sox!!
The whole point of this blog is that my heart is not going to withstand another 10+ years of this. I will bust a blood vessel or have an aneurysm. Is it possible to die just from the stress of years of nail-biters? I mean I truly have to walk away some times. I close my eyes because I just can't stand to see. And Ryan wants to play college ball-- someone's got to cut Moms some slack!
Peace out and power to the White Sox!!
the first murder at VBS
Ok, well this week is VBS at our church. I am a crew leader for pre-K five year olds. Those of you who know me know that I do not have alot of tolerance for children who cannot and do not even attempt to behave. It is ridiculous that I can decide if a child goes to the public or private school by the way they act. And it is not the way that you think. The private school kids (not all, just most) that I have run across have no concept of how to sit still and quiet, how to keep their hands to themselves, how to listen. Most importantly they do not know that the glare that I give them after taking all that my Prozac-relaxed mind can take is actually a threat. They don't know that I am on the verge of the very first Vacation Bible School murder. Okay, well maybe not murder. Maybe strangulation to the point of unconsciousness. Or maybe just a good, hard switching. Or maybe just a stern talking to in the hallway. I'll have to settle for the last since it really would not look good for the future of VBS at our church if I actually harmed one of the little dears.
Actually, the three problem boys are very sweet children. They love to cuddle, give hugs, and are full of compliments. One of them has the thickest head of red hair and a face full of freckles. But not the ugly kind of red hair and freckles. He is absolutely adorable. There truly is a difference. The other is darker skinned with blonde hair and big brown almond shaped eyes. So cute I could just eat him up. The third is quite the little flirt. He loves to tell the women how beautiful they look. But I could just pinch his stuttering little head off. I believe that every person attending VBS knows this child's name just from the number of times I say it every morning. Thank goodness I am not a teacher at this private school. Even Prozac daily wouldn't be enough to make me be in a class with these boys every day for nine months.
I have gained a few new favorite children from this experience. Gage is my latest favorite. And Megan. Sweet, quiet Megan. Oh, how I do love quiet children!!! But the amazing thing is that no matter how many times a day I have to correct these children, I still get the best hugs and cuddle time every day. Oh, how sweet they are--when they are sleeping, surely. Can't we incorporate nap time into VBS? How I would rejoice! I can't decide if I would actually take a nap with them or stay awake just to praise God for the quiet time!!!
My husband's employer is threatening that they may have to close their doors in six months. May I just say that I hate CC sometimes (his work). If they are in such a bad financial position, shouldn't they be making some cutbacks? Like actually making the people who retired in December leave and stop paying them? Or getting rid of two people who salaries take up $160,000 a year and no one has been able to figure exactly what they do? Other than stand over DH's shoulder and watch him fix their problems. And may I also say that the possibility of them closing their door is not good for a family of five with one income from them??? Even more reason that I need a teaching position this fall.
I now know how my friend Kim feels. Her husband is virtually useless as far as income is concerned and her job is ending this month. The Lord will provide as he always does. It just doesn't do us any good to worry. We know this...so why do we do it anyway? Is our worrying going to change things?
Well, I will close for tonight. I have to prepare for our biggest game of the season. Because as all of you know, my pre-game ritual of making kids go to the bathroom and fixing sippy cups helps determine the outcome of the game. Just like my screaming like a Banchee.
Actually, the three problem boys are very sweet children. They love to cuddle, give hugs, and are full of compliments. One of them has the thickest head of red hair and a face full of freckles. But not the ugly kind of red hair and freckles. He is absolutely adorable. There truly is a difference. The other is darker skinned with blonde hair and big brown almond shaped eyes. So cute I could just eat him up. The third is quite the little flirt. He loves to tell the women how beautiful they look. But I could just pinch his stuttering little head off. I believe that every person attending VBS knows this child's name just from the number of times I say it every morning. Thank goodness I am not a teacher at this private school. Even Prozac daily wouldn't be enough to make me be in a class with these boys every day for nine months.
I have gained a few new favorite children from this experience. Gage is my latest favorite. And Megan. Sweet, quiet Megan. Oh, how I do love quiet children!!! But the amazing thing is that no matter how many times a day I have to correct these children, I still get the best hugs and cuddle time every day. Oh, how sweet they are--when they are sleeping, surely. Can't we incorporate nap time into VBS? How I would rejoice! I can't decide if I would actually take a nap with them or stay awake just to praise God for the quiet time!!!
My husband's employer is threatening that they may have to close their doors in six months. May I just say that I hate CC sometimes (his work). If they are in such a bad financial position, shouldn't they be making some cutbacks? Like actually making the people who retired in December leave and stop paying them? Or getting rid of two people who salaries take up $160,000 a year and no one has been able to figure exactly what they do? Other than stand over DH's shoulder and watch him fix their problems. And may I also say that the possibility of them closing their door is not good for a family of five with one income from them??? Even more reason that I need a teaching position this fall.
I now know how my friend Kim feels. Her husband is virtually useless as far as income is concerned and her job is ending this month. The Lord will provide as he always does. It just doesn't do us any good to worry. We know this...so why do we do it anyway? Is our worrying going to change things?
Well, I will close for tonight. I have to prepare for our biggest game of the season. Because as all of you know, my pre-game ritual of making kids go to the bathroom and fixing sippy cups helps determine the outcome of the game. Just like my screaming like a Banchee.
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