…seven loads of neatly folded laundry!
[crickets chirping]
Hey, after sixteen years of marriage…four kids…not to mention one hell of a dirty house…and add to that a totally erotic and rockin’ dream…that included him…even after watching him, last night…he should consider himself lucky, no?
Happy Hump Day – here’s hoping ya’ll get lucky, today!
…else life gets in your way – gather your blogging fodder and tell us about your day!?!
Forgive me for not being a very good writer – and an even worse blogger, lately – but, you know…if you’ve been blogging as long as I have (over three years, now) and especially if you’re a mommyblogger (read: got kids?) well, then you know how difficult life is…to put into words.
How it’s easy to get caught up in all the hype and sometimes feel like you have to be somewhere, are forgetting someone or should be doing something…else.
Like me.
No, I don’t have an especially difficult life (knock on wood) and – although, my friends would probably agree I CAN be very forgetful – I don’t think that I am anything special or any different from any other mother who’s trying to keep her shit together.
Sorry, mom!
But, I believe that I have had an epiphany and I feel the need to share it with you.
This is the first Thanksgiving Dinner that I have ever had the pleasure to host…EVUH!…no really, it was one of the calmest and most stress-free holidays I can remember…since the kids were in diapers, anyways.
Even my kids noticed a difference – hey, look…holy crap…mommy’s happy! – as I smiled and explained to my husband what it is exactly I planned to do with “all those pickles!”
This was the first time my mom has been over our house since her surgery (in October) so, my husband and I came up with the idea of putting together a fun, family craft project.
The kids drew names and were teamed-up with their grandparents and created pretty gingerbread houses (to take home as Thanksgiving favors) along with some pretty terrific memories, I hope!
At least, it’s the first time…in a long while…that I can ever remember my kids NOT feeling bored.
Or, the rest of my family feeling as comfortable and happy, as I was.
So, here’s what I’m thinking – shit happens.
Sorry, Mom!
But, it’s okay – so what if I don’t have a job, the roof leaks and I’m probably late, or forgot to do something, or be somewhere and missed out on something…again – sometimes, life is good…too!
And just being able to hang out with my kids, finding my mojo and then writing about it – even if it’s daaaaaaays in between – feels pretty good, too…I’m okay…no matter what other people may think!
Or…[gasp]…maybe it’s just me!?!
Don’t worry – I’m sure something screwy will happen, soon – there’s always Christmas ;o)
Hey…YOU!…yeah, you…Thanksgiving is only four days away…three, if you’re sitting here and blogging…when you should be scrubbing tiles, herding killer dust bunnies, hiding the laundry and preparing for a houseful of company…like, my mother-in-law is gonna look under the beds…although, it is kind of hard to NOT notice all the dust…who can blame me, though…raising four kids…two cats…and one garbage-picking, sock-eating, bone-headed chocolate lab…who…by the way…will jump on my mother…and probably break her new knees…but, where can I put a 90 pound dog…that isn’t already hiding laundry…and what the hell is that smell, anyways…GAH!…now I’m sounding like an Ellen Degeneres commercial…[ohm]…be the ball…you CAN do this…WE can do this…get through the holidays in one piece and with most of our sanity…intact.
[blank stare]
Or, not!
[crosses eyes and sticks out tongue]
If my mother, punched your mother, in the nose, what color blood came out?
“Don’t even think about it…or, else…I’ll have to send for my posse!”
Now, if you’ll excuse me…I’m going to go scream now…pop some Advil…and then continue to scrape together some sort of dinner plans…that include rotting pumpkin flesh…’cause it’s almost Thanksgiving…and I’m still NOT over Halloween, yet!
Happy Monday, y’all!
Today was “Native American Indian Day” and – as it is one of the many highlights in every kindgartener’s year – I was very pleased to be able to join in the pre-Thanksgiving festivities at my two youngests’ school.
Mini-Me was apart of the “purple tribe” (her favorite color, btw!) and I was supposed to man (or woman) the “cranberry station” but, was bumped (along with another mom) to the “snack station.”
Easy, yes?
I’ve dealt with hungry…sweaty…tired…over-stimulted and often times cranky children, before – I thought dolling out the apple juice and corn chips a bit of a cushy job, actually.
So did my fellow-mommy-helper.
Heck, we had a system – I handled the juice, while she took over plating up the corn chips – and the first two tribes (out of ten, I think) weren’t even that hungry.
So, we did what most mother’s do – a little chit-chat and soon, we discovered that we had a lot of things in common.
Both our husbands worked in the financial industry, we were SAHM who are in the midst of re-examining (so to speak) our lives and worried way too much about our kids, their future, hated food shopping, our diets…and so on…and so on…
But, one of the most sensitive issues (for the both of us) was that we are, unfortunately, also migraine sufferers.
“When was the last time you had one?”
[shrugs shoulders and refilling juice cups]
“Um…a few weeks ago, actually…and then my house caught on fire.”
[eyes go wide]
I filled her in on my bad luck and how yesterday’s freaky Nor’easter (I mean, wtf is up with all the storms, lately!?!) and how our electricity dimming and flickering on and off (five times) gives me (and my kids) the willies, when she – obviously feeling very comfortable – turned the tides on our conversation towards more…um…dangerous topics.
Past history.
“So, you have a seven-year-old son, too…who did he have for kindergarten?”
[blinking away the floaters]
“Oh, um…Mrs. Very-Well-Liked-Except-By-Me…uh…do you want me to take over with the corn chips?”
[raises eyebrow]
“Did you like her?”
[scratches at chin, trying to ignore underground zit]
“Uh…I guess she was okay…but, like…well, her room is very small and always seemed so discombobulated and nothing ever seemed to go smoothly for my son…and I really don’t think that Mrs. Very-Well-Liked-Except-By-Me handled some of the…you know…more sensitive issues…very well, at all.”
[raises both eyebrows]
“Oh yeah…like what?”
********************************************
Now, I’m going to break into the story here for a minute to explain to those who DO NOT suffer from migraines that – although the physicians I’ve seen have all different opinions on this issue – one of the key triggers to most migraine is food, namely (in my case) salt.
Let’s continue and I’ll try to keep the conclusion of my story, brief.
*********************************************
[munching on chips]
“Um…okay…my son had an accident the very first week of school and…I come to learn that she has this policy about kids going to the bathroom…while she’s teaching…and let’s just say that…um…I was pissed…my son was terribly embarrassed…and she sort of…you know…poo-poo’d it under the rug.”
Her eyes went real wide and I followed her gaze to the classroom door to find…YUP!…Mrs. Very-Well-Liked-Except-By-Me casually walking towards the “snack center.”
[flashing a gummy smile]
“Oh…HI!…how ARE you…I didn’t realize that you had ANOTHER ONE…at this age level!?!”
[shoves a handful of chips into mouth]
“HUH…rye, RES…res rye do!”
My mommy-helper looked as uneasy as I did – minus spitting food all over herself – and was soon to prove a quick recovery.
“All the more to enjoy Native American Indian Day…right, Liz…more chips!?!”
[gulp]
Morale of today’s story: You can’t pick your nose…but, you can pick your friends…even when you didn’t count on it…especially in school…or…something like that.
Quick, somebody shove a cranberry in my mouth…and shut me up…because my head is really starting feel yucky…and I guess I better stop now…before I hurt myself!?!
TGIF – have pity for the rest of us turkies and consider a chicken for Thanksgiving, instead!
I have a confession to make – ready? – here it goes:
I HATE GROCERY SHOPPING!!!
I’d much rather push an old-fashioned reel (no gas) lawn mower through a field of sticky balls than have to spend half the day in a supermarket.
Grocery shopping – besides doing laundry and prenatal/postpartum hemorrhoids – has to be the worst pains-in-the-ass there is.
For a mom (or, dad) food shopping sucks and anyone who tells you different is either lying, doesn’t have kids or just nucking futs!
Why?
When was the last time you went food shopping and – after two hours of standing, being bumped, poked and asked to move, having to excuse yourself, or reach things other people can’t and blowing more than two-thirds of your budget…on cereal, cleaning products, laundry detergent, toilet paper, pet food and water…alone – left the store feeling all warm and fuzzy…as if you could do it all over again!?!
But, you will – perhaps as soon as the next day – and if you are a mom (or, dad) well…BOOYAH!…people have nerve to wonder why we look so…you know…bitchy?
NOT today.
In fact – seeing as I was showered, dressed and wearing makeup before 9:00 a.m. – I was in a pretty good mood and looked …you know…sort of, good.
Got done in record time – an hour and a half – and unloaded my 112 items (as I later read on my receipt) onto the conveyor belt and I believe I was even…whistling…a little.
Until.
[snapping her gum]
“WOW…that’s a lot of food…what are you…feeding an army!?!”
[blink-blink]
“Um…yeah…I guess so…”
I don’t know about you…but, I have this small internal voice that typically tells me to, “Back off,” or, “Best keep quiet,” and “Why not quit while your ahead,” in these types of situations.
But, as my husband so fondly refers to…sooner or later…the crazy’s got come out!
[rolls eyes]
“Man…oh…man…look at all that Cheerios…you must like to eat a lot of Cheerios…huh!?!”
[does she NOT hear the warning bells?]
“Only when it’s on sale.”
[rolls eyes some more]
“And you’re buying…um…what is this called…
[leafs through flyer]
Oh…pomegranites…EWWW…I don’t think I’ve ever eaten one…who the hell eats pomegranites!?!”
[SNAP!]
“Ah, no…Babe…it’s not like that, at all…you see…my husband and I just use the juice…and we rub it all overselves at night…great for the libido!”
[blank stare]
“Uh…[snapping gum]…okay…what’s a libido!?!”
Morale of the story: There’s just no shocking some people…so, STOP TRYING…DAMMIT!
Anybody want a piece of my pomegranites!?!
In the neverending search for peace and tranquility – not to mention the cutting down of as much whining as possible – in our little corner of the empire, I have allowed my seven-year-old son to host his first sleep-over Friday, inviting his best friend from school for what promises to be a night filled with much yelling (man, boys are LOUD!) stomping and jumping on furniture, as the two boys make a valiant effort to battle hostile forces from the dark side.
My three girls.
Look, it’s not like I can’t say as I blame them – the boys, I mean – after all, being born female…and raising three girls of my own…trust me when I say that…girls are harder than boys!
I’m not saying raising boys is easy – remember…I have one of those, too! – they’re just…different.
For example:
“Five minute warning – we are going to school in FIVE MINUTES – finish up and be ready to leave in five minutes!”
And three girls go nuts as they try and put on their socks…shoes…hair-thingies…deodorant…a different shirt…another pair of pants…that matches the shirt, better…more deodorant…backpacks…whatever…at the very last minute…and barely make it out of their bedroom – that looks very much like a casualty of war, by the way – alive and in one piece!
The boy?
“What…we have school, today!?”
Either way, I’m screwed.
But, I do feel – having three sisters and no brother…to speak of…[knocking on wood]…anytime, soon…or, ever…if the husband knows what’s good for him – as if my son is at a disadvantage.
Living in a houseful of girls – not to mention a very hormonal mother – can be real hard!
So, I often times take advantage of Car-pooling Mom’s suggestion of sending him around the corner, to her house, to play with her three sons and…more importantly…no girls!
But, lots and lots of Legos.
“They even got the new Lego Star Wars…you know…like, the first one…that we don’t have…but, you rented from Blockbuster…but, this is the second one…that you won’t probably buy, either…because it’s like, forty-five-hundred dollars…or, something…so, “J” is gonna ask his mom…if he can bring it over…so we can verse each other on Friday…because, you know…it’s probably still too expensive…and you won’t buy it…probably!”
Probably not.
But, that’s okay – that’s what friends with lots of cool toys and plenty of brothers to share are for, right? – allowing his friend to stay over will surely make up for being such a cheapskate!
Me?
Heaven knows saving him from versing Mini-Me – who still insists that crying, “No fair,” or “Girls go first,” and “You should let me win because I’m still yiddle!” actually does increase her chances of winning – no doubt, will give me a run for my money!
[heavy sigh]
I don’t know how this weekend will turn out, but – especially, since I’m supposed be taking my newly-teenaged-daughter and a bunch of her girlfriends to the mall on Saturday and…MAN!…is it just me…or, do all kids’ birthdays have to last soooooooo long? – UGH!…I know…it’s only Monday.
It’s gonna be a tough week, kids!
May the force be with you and keep me from tearing my hair out – or, I’ll have to go all Darth Vader on your collective little asses!
[click…whoosh…click]
Don’t make me have to destroy you!
All my life – having been raised in a very superstitious household – I can't help but be a little spooked whenever encountering the number 13 and my husband can't resist giving me the evil eye when, after throwing salt over my shoulder or knocking on wood, I insist:
"YES, it really does help!"
But, there isn't a time that I can ever remember feeling this scared – I mean, I'm talking absolute and unbelievable dread – as I am…right now…about the number of candles to be lit for my oldest daughter's…GULP…13th birthday on Sunday.
[blank stare]
Even if you don't believe and think I'm just being silly, perhaps if I put it this way:
My first born (and oldest daughter)…my baby…in three days…WILL BE A TEENAGER!
[gasp…and…OMG!]
I mean, it stands to reason – she was the first…in everything – I still remember the day (very, very early in the morning) when she was born.
(1) I remember her first tooth – she only had one, but it stood out in the middle of her smile on her first birthday – and (2) she was the first to ever to call me, "Mommy."
(3) She was the first to give me a present for Mother's Day – a faded coffee mug that says, "#1 Mommy," I still use – and (4) she was the first to cry on Santa's lap.
(5) I remember the first time she got sick and (6) when she was hospitalized, it was truly the first time I felt as if I was going to die and (7) the first time I ever promised the stars and the moon.
(8) I remember the first time I sewed was a homemade Halloween costume for her and (9) how she enjoyed her first taste of chocolate and (10) I don't think I will ever forget her telling me how she was, " Just too old" to go trick-or-treating, this year.
(11) She was the first to have a friend sleep-over and (12) walk to the corner for a gallon of milk or (13) tell me, "I love you…Momma!"
It stands to reason.
She will probably be the first to tell me exactly how much…she hates her life.
It's okay.
I will try to understand that – no matter how gosh-darned hard I try – it is perhaps unavoidable. If growing up means that children will hate their parents, even a little, then I thank my lucky stars…because it seems that we BOTH still have some growing up to do.
For now.
[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]
Happy 13th Birthday, Thing One and – even though I can't believe I will officially be a mom of a teenager – thank you for allowing me to look forward to the next…firsts!
Dating, not so much.
 
We enjoyed our pumpkin day together, right before my mom went into the hospital – or, “Da hosipal,” as my youngest would say – and, though her sisters and brother had no desire to get this involved, my attempts at continuing our tradition of celebrating Fall…with the ritualistic tearing into pumpkin guts…did not go unappreciated by Mini-Me.
In fact, anything that is declared gross, or “totally bees-gusting,” as mandatory…well…the kid just about dives in!
Me?
Not so much.
“Ewwww…this is gross!”
Mini-Me just smiled, reached in and pulled out another handful of Jack:
“AND…totally bees-gusting!”
[click]
I hate having my picture taken – and there aren’t many of my kids, that include me – for a reason.
“Ugh…that’s sooo gross!”
I gave the picture back to Mini-me and she stared at it for a few minutes before finally shrugging her shoulders.
“Nuh-uh…it’s not gwoss…we didn’t even give him a face, yet!”
[smiling]
“No…not the pumpkin…MOMMY!”
[frowning]
“Huh?”
I reached for the picture.
“Look…see…I don’t look good pictures, like you do…mommy’s eyes always come out puffy and black and…HOLY CROW…but, they look crooked in this one, see!?!”
Yesterday, dad and I brought mom home from the hospital and – after I put up a pot of soup, ran some errands and did some food shopping for them – I got home soon after suppertime and was going over my plans for the rest of the week with my husband, when Mini-Me walked into the kitchen, frowing.
“Are you coming to da’ How-oh-ween pawade?”
I kneeled down and gave Mini-Me a big hug.
“Yep, someone else is gonna watch Mama and Papa for me and I don’t have to go back until after tomorrow – I wrote and told teacher I would be able to help, remember!?!”
She gave me one those impish smiles (see picture above) and hugged me back.
“YAY…I’m sooo gwad…’cause, I ah-weddy telled-did my fwends ‘dat you were coming and told-did ‘dem to just wook for ‘da mommy wif two bwak eyes and a wee-wee cwooked nose…and told-did teacher NOT to take your pitch-her…’cause you ah-ways wook wee-wee gwoss!”
[blank stare]
Phew….I’m so glad, to!
Good thing she didn’t mention anything about my having crows feet and a wee-wee greasy face – or else, I’d have the whole kindergarten class pukin’ – Happy Halloween, everyone!
My poor Little Man – pictured here all curled up and fast asleep with Junie B. Jones - is the recipient of this year’s “homework from hell” award, a title his two oldest sisters were more than happy to pass on.
Two pages of math, reading and one page of either Science or Social Studies, Spelling, Fix-its (correcting any work from the prior school day) and at least 20 minutes of reading…every single night.
Wednesday was no different, except -Â including an hour of soccer practice – he asked that I sit with him and listen to him finish the chapter he started the night before.
Crap.
Not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that it was already after 8:00 p.m. (I know, shame on me for feeding the kids sooo late) the hubs wasn’t home yet and I was…you know…done.
“Okay, Bud…you go ahead and start…just give me a chance to clear the dinner table and I’ll meet you on Mommy’s chair.”
Twenty minutes later, so was he.
“Um…where’s Little Man?”
My son has always been a deep sleeper – the only one of my babies that never, ever gave me a problem about bedtime or taking naps – and he never heard the dog bark or my husband come in.
“Uh-oh…I forgot the poor kids’ been waiting for me…how much you wanna bet he’s out like a light!?!”
No need to tip-toe, I even had time to grab my cell phone, adjust the flash and take a picture.
“Little Man…LOOK OUT FOR THEÂ TRUCK!!!”
If I hadn’t been so shocked at my husband’s blatant attempt at scaring the shite out of his only son, I would have taken a picture and been able to show you exactly how scared shite-less the poor kid looked.
“Well…there goes your “Father of the Year Award”…I guess.”
And here’s the thing – guess who my son yelled at?
“Mooooomeeeee…you said you’d read with me…I got tired-awaitin’ and…well…FORGET IT NOW…I’m done!”
He slammed the book on the floor, crossed his arms across his chest and looked over to my husband.
“Oh…hey, Dad…I didn’t even know you were home, yet!”
 Huh?
That’s it, I was sooo done – then, I came down with a nasty stomach bug yesterday, the same day Aunt Flo decides to visit – is it any wonder I feel all beat up, all the time!?!
[sniff]
Yes – I’ll have some cheese with my whine – now that I’m done throwing up, have an overnight guest coming and about a bazillion loads of laundry and housework to catch up on before soccer, tomorrow…can someone please say something nice and NOT yell at me!
[blows bangs out of eyes and crosses arms over chest]
And if anyone needs me, I’ll be upstairs…ASLEEP!
Â
Â
Only 9 more sleeps until Halloween and, typically, the kids would have their costumes picked out, I would be discussing Thanksgiving plans with both sides of the family already and – compounded by the excitement about the upcoming birthdays of my three oldest in Nov, Dec & Jan (NO I DON’T know what I was thinking!) – our family celebrates this time of year in a fevered-pitch!
But, this year – Autumn at This Full House of muddy paws and crunchy feet – has turned out to be anything BUT typical.
Then again, I really can’t remember the last time our family did any of those…you know…well-planned family-type sort of things.
My poor kids.
Having me for a mother - who’s not feeling herself, unless she’s running like a chicken with her head cut off and talking in the third person…SHEESH! – they’ve had to learn to live life on the fly.
To enjoy each day as it comes and each moment for what it’s worth, so to speak.
This weekend, we visited my dad and – since my mom is still in the hospital and will be for the next few weeks – we asked our two oldest if they would consider staying with their Papa and keep him company in a last-minute overnight.
“No sweat…we’ll hang with him, Momma!”
“Yep…we got your back, Momma!”
The two youngest – not so much.
“What…NO FAIR!…why can’t we stay, too!?!”
“Yeah…I wanna sweep over Papa’s house, too!”
So, yesterday, my husband and I stopped at one of my mother’s (as well as my kid’s) favorite places – I could still smell the apple cider donuts at Delicious Orchards…YUM! – to pick up a couple of pomegranites, hoping that they would be enticing enough for her to try and eat….something.
Because we can only get pomegranites in October…’round these parts…I realized once again, that it is Autumn…and went nucking futs in front of about a bazillion other more…um…normal day trekkers.
“Oooohhh…look…PUMPKINS!…quick, you guys…go stand over there…by the pumpkins, over there…and let me take your picture…how cute ARE those pumpkins!?!”
Look at my poor son’s face – doesn’t it just scream:
“Shuddup and just smile for the crazy lady.”Â
Later, we met up with the girls for pizza and headed over to the rehab center to see my Mom.
She’s doing much better (and she thanks you so much for your kind thoughts, EVERYONE…as do I!) and has promised to seek further treatment, once she recovers from the double-knee replacement (yes, Prescott…just typing the words…makes me wanna cringe!) so, I am happy to report that we all well on our way on the road to complete recovery and that things are getting back to…you know…more normal.Â
Until.
“Oooohhh…look…cornstalks…AND MUMS!…quick…”
Thank God for camera phones – just look at there faces – how else would I prove to my kids that having me for a Mom was soooo much fun!?!
Â
