Category: Uncategorized

Can you believe it’s only been a week – AND WE ARE ALL OUT OF CEREAL!

And since they’ve been home and managed to eat all of the eggs, bacon, English muffins, the last of the six loaves of Wonder Bread and cleaned out the entire fruit and vegetable bin – who knew four kids could eat so much? – guess I’ll have to go grocery shopping, soon. 

It may (or may not) surprise you to learn that I am NOT the most organized mom in the world!  Oh, I used to be – just, don’t ask my husband, ‘kay – trust me.  I dunno what happened!?!  I guess it all got a little messy – real fast – and just became sorta, easier for the kids and me to find clean clothes in piles (after teaching them the “smell test,” of course!) rather than folded and…GULP!…neatly hanged or placed in a drawer.

What?

Life is complicated enough – what, with six (sometimes seven) people (four, sometimes five, of whom are female) living in a 2,000 square foot house and experiencing extreme surges (up and down) of hormones (both male and female) ranging from PMS to pre-menopause, not to mention three pets including various others “of whom we don’t speak of” (stupid ants!) and the whole circle of life sorta, thing – fuhgettaboutit!

No, really – it’s better this way – and getting used to living among the chaos of an unorganized life is not as hard, as you may think!

For example, my SIL has been staying with us and understands, completely:

8 Simple Questions You Will Be Asking When Visiting This Full House:

1.  Is It dirty?

Smell it.

2.  Is it clean?

Hold it up to the light.

3.  Is it good?

If it’s green and/or fuzzy, no – otherwise, smell it.

4.  Is it Thing One’s?

If it’s on the floor, yes – otherwise, smell it.

5.  Is it Thing Two’s?

If it’s folded and put away, yes – she was always a little weird.

6.  Is it Little Man’s?

Hold it up to the light and if it disingrates upon contact, yes – otherwise, kill it!

7.  Is it Mini-Me’s?

If it’s green and/or fuzzy, yes – otherwise, it’s Thing One’s.

8.  What the hell is it?

Throw it away or toss it in the laundry room – I don’t care – and fuhgettaboutit!

I’ve got better things to do.

Like, playing referee to an unscheduled game of soccer…in the living room…and helping Mini-Me block her goal…the couch…while my SIL sleeps…on the couch – and checking my SIL to be sure she’s still…you know…breathing.

Like, convincing Thing Two that – because her father and I forbid her from watching Summerland, for the rest of the summer, or ever – it is not the end of the world (stupid N-Channel!) and that she can probably find much better things to do with her time.  Like messing up her room, or something productive, like that.  And then re-hanging pictures and pretending that slamming doors DON’T REALLY BOTHER US AT ALL, REALLY.

Like, playing another unscheduled soccer game and trying to convince Little Man, “BECAUSE YOU HAVE SISTERS…OKAY…AND WE DON’T HAVE ANYMORE ROOM, THAT’S WHY!”

Like, finally agreeing with Mini-Me, “Okay, you can have your own room!”

See, we’ve completed our first week of summer vacation and I’ve got everything pretty much under control – yeah?

Until.

“Hey, Sis…like, WOW!…you’ve finally organized your cabinets!”

WHAT?

THE HELL?

IS THIS?

“Oh, I did that…Mommy…do you like it?  Aunt P. thinks it’s great and I just couldn’t take it anymore…and look…I labeled the shelves and now you can find everything!”

[shudder]

Don’t worry – I was a good mommy and thanked Thing One for helping and being thoughtful!

Any questions?

Can’t think of any, right now – good…fuhgettaboutit!

In the meantime - if you’re looking for me – I’ll be in the crawl space…sniffing my pits and checking for pods! 

Ever since the kids were little – starting when my two oldest were in preschool and way before Little Man and Mini-Me were born – we would celebrate the end of the week with, “Friday Pizza and Movie Night!”  And - although I work from home, we order our movies from the mail and the pizza orders have changed a bit –  we still look forward to staying in and getting all cozy.

For the kids – it meant a weekend reprieve from the demands of the classroom.

For me – having to get four kids to four different schools…and back…every morning and every afternoon – it meant pretty much the same thing.

Especially if it happened to be a weekend when my husband was scheduled to have the day off – then, yippee…break out the wine and cheese…because we sure as heck-fire’ll, be sleeping in!

Then, inevidably, it would be Monday and we’d start looking forward to doing Friday…all over again.

 

Now that it’s summer and the vacation count-down has ended?

It’s like Friday Pizza and Movie Night…every…blessed…day…and I have to admit, it somehow sort of loses it’s…I dunno…oofah!?!

And when it’s raining?

Believe me when I say, there is such a thing as “too much closeness!”

And when it’s raining – for the last four days?

Trust me when I say, that every day begins to feel…like a Monday!

And when the hubs surprises me – especially when he does something that he has never, ever done, before – and takes the day off…like yesterday?

Well, let’s just say I couldn’t be more surprised (or happier) if I’d woken up on Monday…to find out that it’s actually like a Sunday…well…you know what I mean.

Even if it were still raining – which it was, on and off – we spent a lovely day, tending to our gardens (I do the vegetable garden and the small sitting area under my kitchen window, he does the rest…) enjoying each other’s company and…you know…getting dirty together.

The kids?

 

Well, it gives Little Man a chance to “borrow” Mommy’s cell phone because he was, “Sooooooooooooooooo bored!”

 

While, Thing Two catches up (after having been allowed to stay up the last few nights, well passed her bedtime) on some lost sleep.

And Mini-Me raids the dress-ups and puts out a fire, or two.

Only after given a proper make-over from Thing One, of course – you may not be able to tell, but she’s sporting a lovely Pat Benatar-look and made it her own by adding Thing Two’s sweat wristband from soccer and Mini-Me’s favorite pink cowgirl boots!

Me?

I’m still looking forward to Friday.

Because – even though my kids have started their summer vacation, 4 days ago – I’m still working my way through tons laundry…while trying to enjoy them…together again…and getting used to being the center of their attention…sort of…even though it’s still raining…and the kids are getting really bored…and the cats are fighting…and the dog is still puking…and I’m still in my pajamas…because I finally did get some work done…but need a shower, desperately…and am thinking of ordering pizza for dinner…but, don’t even have a bleeding clue what we’re my cell phone is…let alone what day it is…GAH!…but, it’s summer…who cares?…and maybe I won’t even take a shower…so there!

See it is all a matter of pacing myself!

**spots cell phone and sends text message to hubs**

“Um…when do you start your vacation and what day is it…again?”

I’m still waiting for an answer.

 

My husband and I have been together for a long time (sixteen years in August) and have become very comfortable with each other, to the point where we find ourselves finishing each others sentences.

Okay – go ahead and puke, now – I’ll wait.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not all sunshine and rainbows – we have our moments.  But, luckily, those are far and few in between…his job…the kids…my job…the kids…yardwork…the kids…housework…the kids…well, you get what I’m saying.

There’s very little chance for us to give each other a dirty look, let alone get down and dirty.

So, we do the next best thing – text messaging.

 

Me: (w/pic) You can come home, now.

Him: What’s in it for me…

Me: (w/pic) Me…

Him: Which you?

Me: (w/pic – censored) BOTH!

Him: On my way!

Me: Starting dinner…

No – not the dirtiest of conversations, is it? – not much happening, here.  But, for us – it’s foreplay…in nineteen words, or less!

[silence, followed by the sound of crickets]

Um…you like my new glasses?

—————————————————————————-

That’s what I would have written, yesterday – but, it was the last day of school and the kids were wired, and I was tired…and they all started going to bed around 10…and well…you know.

So, here’s today’s REAL post:

Summer Vacation – Day 1

4:30 a.m. – Woke up (stupid birds!)

5:00 a.m. – Quickly, walked dog.

6:30 a.m. – Woke up (stupid bladder!)

7:00 a.m. – Startled awake…then reminded by hubs, “Relax…no school…remember!?!”

7:20 a.m. – Reminded hubs, “Come home early…it’s been awhile…you know!?!”

7:21 a.m. – Hubs says, “You’re going out…Pampered Chef…remember!?!”

7:22 a.m. – Remind hubs, “Maybe tomorrow night?”

8:10 a.m. – Turned toward hubs, snuggled close and kissed him…BLEH!…GAH! (stupid dog!)

Okay…so, I needed a cuddle…the hubs left earlier than usual…and I thought the dog was…well…anyway…it’s day one (half gone, already) of summer vacation and the kids and I have enjoyed a very…slow…morning.

We swam.

We sat.

And we swam, some more.

10:00 a.m. - eating their second breakfast (my first).

10:05 a.m. – They’re done and already asking, “What are we going to do, next!?!”

10:10 a.m. – Kicked at laundry pile, popped in “Wallace and Grommit” and sat some more.

10:40 a.m. – Back to kitchen (stupid Wallace and Grommit)

11:00 a.m. – Put bread in the oven, lit the tea pot and sat some more.

11:15 a.m. – Sitting, sipping, breathing.

Nope, nothing much happening here.

[throws arms into the air and twirls around the kitchen]

God, I love summer vacation…so far, anyway – I think I’ll go…you know…hang with the kids (stupid breasts) and sit some more – have a great weekend, everyone!

 

To most people, “airing out the dirty laundry” would mean that someone is talking about their private matters (or secrets), in public and is typically reserved information….for a reason.

Not in this house and – in light of the fact that it is Monday, which happens to be the busiest of laundry days – quite frankly, that’s why I started blogging in the first place.

Because there simply isn’t a day where you won’t find at least one hamper (or clothes basket) overflowing with…blogging fodder!

Today, I’m sorting out a week filled with blood, sweat, tears and a whole lot of grass stains:

Little Man played his last little league game of the season on Saturday and — as I was shouting out the stains in his uniform — I couldn’t help but reflect (and have to admit) how it was a pleasant experience…for the both of us.  He’d never played before, but, one of his bff’s (and his mom) talked us into registering him and requesting that he play on his bff’s team.  And I’m so glad I did.  The coaches were great (very laid back) and the team played well together, especially towards the end of the season, when Little Man’s batting improved his fielding abilities shined on 1st base.  He won three game balls, overall, and is looking forward to next spring.  I hope to be able to get him to play with the same group of kids/coaches and perhaps even convince him not to wear his baseball cup…to school ;o)

It was a busy week for all of us and – especially Mini-Me, who has needed to nap more this week than ever before – as I threw Thing One’s favorite do-rag into the wash, I made a mental note to thank her for all of the babysitting, message taking and general good natured-nurturing she’s done over the passed few days.  Though, I’m sure she’d appreciate an increase in her allowance…if she actually had one, that is.  Perhaps once she completes those babysitting classes at the community center, and receives her certificate in first aid…I suppose I won’t even be able to afford her, anyway!

Thing Two sweats…a lot…and is always very mindful about wearing plenty of deodorant, taking lots of showers and changing her clothes, often.  Which means she is usually the one with the most laundry.  I was invited to visit her classroom (located on the top floor, WITHOUT AIR CONDITIONING) and observe her teaching the social studies lesson on the economy of the midwest during the 19th century. ZZZZZzzzzz.  Huh…what…where was I?  No, it’s not a very interesting subject…unless it’s your child up there…in front of all those other children…and she happens to be looking rather smart…wearing her new glasses…and speaking well and looking quite comfortable…while her mother squirms in an attempt to keep her thighs from sticking to the seat of those damned, and very smallish, desks – GAH!

 

Sorting one of Mini-Me’s favorite denim jackets (handed down by her brother, who had it handed down to him from a friend, because I have long since made my peace with accepting hand-me-downs) I remembered taking this picture of Mini-Me, taking a stroll with her bff on the last full-day of preschool, before graduating on Friday.  She’s growing up so fast, made a lot of new friends and is very ready to tackle kindergarten, in September.  I thought about all this during her graduation and, in fact, I was a bit surprised by how I managed to…not cry as much as I thought!  I guess we’re both ready to move on…and it’s because I’ve done this before…many times…and, honestly, felt a little embarrassed by the other first-time-graduating-mothers…bawling their eyes out as if they were sending their kids off to war…or something.  Okay, maybe a little bit.  Besides, there was no time for me to grieve, as I was too busy consoling Little Man, as he wailed during the power point presentation and photo montage, “I CAN’T BELIEVE MY BABY SISTER IS GROWING UP…**snort**…AND BEFORE YOU KNOW IT…**honk**…SHE’LL BE LEAVING THE HOUSE…**snort**…AND PROBABLY NEVER COMING BACK!!!!” 

Yes, it was quite moving, but a little hard to take…for some of us.  

Except for Mini-Me, who obviously enjoyed all of the attention this week - as well as the family barbecue and the awesome ice cream birthday cake on Saturday - and she accepted her “real” birthday wishes from her Grandparents on Friday night by saying, “Um…’kay, thanks…but, I have to go to bed now…because I have a wee-wee big day, to-maw-woe!”

So, rather than lament over the fact that it’s Monday…or, that it’s Africa-hot…and the older kids still have four days of school left…WITHOUT AIR-CONDITIONING…but they’ve mentally stopped going way back at the end of May…and were dragging their feet even more so…this morning…though, i couldn’t really blame them…judging by the piles of wet bathing suits and towels lying about!?!

Sometimes, dirty laundry…can be a good thing!

Besides, who couldn’t do without a little more…extra-seating?!?

No – I’ve been very good at keeping appointments and haven’t missed my period (knocking on wood) lately – I’m not talking about that sort of late.  I mean, having to adjust the clocks ten minutes ahead and becoming the type of mom who has grown accustomed to planning everything….at the last possible second.

I call it, “Hail Mary Parenting,” incorporating a game plan that includes very little planning, as possible.

Oh, I never used to be like this – heck, I even had our greeting card and grocery list computerized (B.I. – before internet) – I kept a daily to do list for nearly every aspect of family life.

Parties?

[snort]

Man, I could “theme” the hell outta any occassion with a “master plan” in mind worthy of a global invasion – think of Martha Stewart meets Atilla the Hun…on acid – that included everything from cleaning the house, planting the backyard and shopping (sometimes for days) for every exoctic herb and spice known to…well…heaven forbid Martha gave a recipe that included the word, “imitation” or sold in mega-size at Costco!

Then, I had children.

And then, more children.

And holy crap, if things didn’t change soon…I was either going to lose a limb, suffer some sort of permanent damage tripping over myself or perhaps even killing myself with a friggin’ glue gun!

That would so NOT BE, “a good thing.”

So, I’ve learned to accept the fact that – no matter whatever the effort – there will always be, something.

A sick kid; a pinhead dog that insists on eating things, that it shouldn’t, and declaring an emergency evacution of all bodily fluids at the most inopportune times and in the most difficult of places; backed-up drains; exploding toilets; imploding banking accounts. 

You name it and I’ve probably stepped in it, sat on it, driven into it, jumped over it or had it thrown at me – from all directions.

Hence, my new mommy-mantra:  If it ain’t broke, it soon will be…so…fugghettaboutit!

And I did.

“Momma…bee-member what today is?”

[eyes go wide]

“Uh, let’s see…”

[runs to calendar and nearly breaks a leg jumping over vaccum cleaner]

“Well, you don’t graduate preschool until tomorrow…and you’re birthday is tomorrow…um…Momma has to clean, shop, cook and cut the grass for the barbecue on Saturday…um…nope, I’ve got nuttin’, honey!”

[hands on hips]

“GAH…it’s Silly Hat Day…silly!”

Shit.

[Says a quick Hail Mary and hits the dress-ups trunk and craft box]

 

Phew…see, I told you…and I don’t think I could have made her look any cuter, if I had a week to plan!

 

Plus, we had a lot of fun doing it and still have an hour to spare!

And I only burned two fingers — now, that’s A GOOD THING! — eat your heart out, Martha baby…and chill-out, Atilla…it’s gonna be a good day!

[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

Who knew?

My husband and I didn’t realize how watching The Cosby Show was like actually being afforded the opportunity to peek into our very own future…but, we went all ahead full (or, is it full speed ahead?) and had children, anyway.

Because Cliff and Clair Huxtable (i.e. mom and dad) made it look so easy?

Nah.

Actually, I remember thinking to myself – especially during the episodes focused on dealing with Theo (their son) and his best friend, Cockroack – “Holy crap, but boys are such knuckleheads!”

And it’s true.

As I soon learned for myself – boys are knuckleheads! – but, raising girls is like entering a mental institution and not knowing whether or not you’re a patient, or just visiting.  And they still haven’t hit teenage, yet?

One pre-menopausal, one pre-menstrual, one pre-hormonal, one preschooler and two bubbling over with testosterone – put ’em all together and what you got?

Someone, please pass me a bottle of pain-reliever and the remote…because I swear…I feel as if I’m living in a sitcom and I’d like to turn the channel, now…please.

Today’s episode:  It’s Potty-time!

Cast of characters:

Big Man – the worn-out and weary of all that leaks.

Thing One – twelve years old.

Thing Two – ten years old.

Little Man – seven years old.

Mini-Me - almost five years old. 

The Old Man - world’s grumpiest cat. 

Buckbeek – Ninja kitty.

Rufus – the world’s most flatulent dog.

Me – ‘nuf said

Scene 1: Me and Big Man’s Bedroom

Me:  (sniffing)

Rufus:  (wags tail)

Me:  UGH!  (accidentally kicks cat)

Old Man:  HISS! (wacks dog)

Rufus:  BARK!

Big Man:  Jesus Chr… (kicks other cat)

Buckbeek:  HISS! (wacks Big Man)

Big Man:  F*ck! (kicks Me)

Rufus:  FART!

Me:  OUCH! (kicks and misses dog, but connects with nightstand and knocks over water)

Glass breaks, dog barks, cats go running every-which-way and thus starts a typical morning in This Full House of stinky…can you feel the love?

Scene 2:  Bathroom #1

Me:  (yawning)

Big Man:  Mmmmm, I know what you can do with that (said he who would find a hangnail…arousing)

Me:  FLOG (for the love of God) can you think of nothing else….get away from me! (pushes with both hands and knocks Big Man into bathroom door, knocking picture off the wall and breaking glass)

Rufus:  BARK! (knocks into otherside of door and wacks Big Man in the head with the door knob)

Me: (snort)

Big Man:  Jesus Chr… (tries to stand and head-butts Me in the chin)

Me:  OUCH!

Rufus:  (frightened) FART!

Big Man:  Aw…man…you stink to high heaven!

(knocking from the otherside of the wall)

A-voice-yet-to-be-identified:  HEY…how about a courtesy flush…it’s stinkin’ in here, too!

(gagging sounds)

A-voice-yet-to-be-identified:  UGH…nevermind…Buckbeek pooped in here…in front of the litterbox…again!

Me:  Well…just scoop it…’kay?

(silence)

Me:  (knocking on wall) HEY…don’t you leave it for me!

(silence)

Big Man:  DAMN!

Me:  What?

Big Man:  The damned faucet’s leaking again!  (reaching under the sink for the wrench, because…yes!…the faucet leaks…that much!)

Me:  (sitting on potty)  Could you please leave that…for later?

Big Man:  (making disgusting grunting-sort of sound)

Exit Big Man.

Enter – all…four…kids…and…of course…Rufus.

Me:  (eyes go wide) What!?!

All Four Kids:  HURRY…I NEED TO GO POTTY…BAD!

Me:  FLOG….use the other bathroom!

Thing Two:  No way!

Little Man:  That’s okay…(excutes a perfect arm-pit-fart)…I’ll wait!

Mini-Me:  ‘Cause it stinks in dear!

Thing One:  I think I missed the bus!

Rufus:  FART!

Exit Me – (into bathtub, pulls curtain and turns on showerhead…full blast)

A-kid-yet-to-be-identified:  FLUSH.

Me:  GAAAAAAAAH! (jumps away from scolding hot and falls into a crumpled heap…and totally naked…btw)

(Someone tears shower curtain open and four sets of eyes stare at Me…hugging knees…rocking back and forth…and mumbling incoherently…and did I mention I was totally naked?)

Mini-Me:  (crying) No fair!  I wanna take a baf…wif you…too!

(cue laughter)

Fade to black.

I swear — even Bill Cosby can’t make this up — you think this kinda shit happens in Steven Spielberg’s house?

Laundry – I know…it’s a dirty word round most parts – but, it’s a gray, wet and very dreary day here in Jersey…and I’m feeling a bit…you know…blue.

So, rather than wallow in the piles…that surround this house of soggy, wet…I’m going on a blog search.

First stop, my bloggy friend CMHL – who has fulfilled her assignment over at The Blue Sloth, very nicely - and to whom I send a virtual hug (because I, as you say, “have been f*cked up by a friend,” too!) and will even consider sharing with you, this lovely cup of hot vanilla chai tea I’m drinking, right now.

Which got me thinking, “I’d better finish my laundry!”

But, I visited with Owlhaven (afterall, she is a mother of 8 children!) to see how…you know…she takes care of her dirty laundry.  And found yet another reason to love her:

Early on in my laundry career, intent on being Suzy Homemaker, I emulated my mother, conscientiously sorting each offering to the washer gods. Somewhere along about kid #3 I became lax about this, instead opting for the ‘grab any heap and huck it in the washer’ approach. To my suprise, the laundry didn’t look much different.

And after sharing her secret, she goes onto say:

So there ya have it– my shameful lazy-laundry secret. I know that some women get tremendous satisfaction from laundry, and would be desperately unhappy with my methods. I totally respect that. But being casual about laundry has not impacted my family’s life in any measurable way except to give me time to do things I enjoy more. Works for me!

Me, too…so, I’m sending you a virtual high-five – if any of your hands (because I bet you’ve got, like, eight…right?) that are free, that is – and will even consider sharing a hot cup of pasta fagioli I made, the other day, that always tastes that much better…shared a few days later!

Then, I looked up and saw this:

And am reminded of the other gazillion things I’ll forget to do, and felt as tired (and drowned-rat-like) as I probably look - which made me think of summer vacation.

**sigh**

Speaking of all things warm and sunny, I then wondered what my bloggy friend Amber was up to.

My daily lists are very long… but I finally feel like I am organised(ish). Today’s to do list involves packing kids rooms (that are all sorted and organised), running errands, baking cakes, organizing party bags, and hopefully sitting in the sun for at least 5 minutes (we had a very long, cold, 3 week spell of rain which ended last Friday – spring seems to have arrived!)

And all of a sudden – although, I didn’t quite seem to be so busy – I felt this urge to sit in the sun, my ownself.  So, I’m sending you – although she’d probably hate to be referred to in the same sentence along with the word, “sunny” –  Amber, all peaceful thoughts to you (and yours) and good wishes for a happy move from across the sea and I have even decided on sharing my shiny new chocolate raspberry lip gloss, with you.

**sigh**

I love raspberries – and absolutely adore chocolate, btw – CHOCOLATE!  Oh, crap.  I just remembered what I found in the pocket of Mini-Me’s blue jeans, the other day.  Although, I didn’t know they were melted M&M’s, at first.

Ew.

Ah, well – I guess I’d better finish up and better start folding, now – time to do the laundry.

Oops…shhh…maybe, later – hmmm…I wonder what Mir’s up to?

**eyes go wide and feeling all…you know…leaky, again**

Nevermind.

I’m sending her my new boyfriend Mike Rowe -  ’cause she’s got a dirty job ahead of her!

Our school system allows our kids to participate in recess – weather permitting - ideally, where a child can go outside and run, play, kick a soccer ball and shoot some hoops for twenty minutes, or so.

My kids?

I’d rather they climb into a pit filled with mud, or any form of muck for that matter, than have to face another playground bully and waste half my afternoon having to explain why chump-change felt the need to punch one of them in the gut or cut him/her down to the size of an insignificant fleck.

Yes, I understand that recess is an important part of the school day - it’s the constant whacking I can do without – but, for goodness sake, can I just tell you how sick and tired I am of all the bullying!

Maybe it’s just me.

But, I’ve been reading up ways to handle “playground bullies” and…well…it’s not like when I was going to school.

They were pretty easy to pick out — speaking as one they would typically pick on — and you either learned to “walk away” or simply waited for a teacher to pull the Son-of-a-Brooklyn-Bridge off your back and learned pretty quick…how to take a brow beating.

Now?

It ain’t that simple.

The Brits call ’em “Brat bullies” – little rays of sunshine who fly low under the classroom radar, do very well academically and then blow their little gaskets when teacher isn’t looking.

Kiddie-experts in the U.K. explain them in this way:

Children who are used to being spoiled at home may resort to bullying if they do not receive the same attention at school.

My son (he’s seven and finishing up the first grade) has a friend who is being bullied, mercilessly, by a boy and I believe that perhaps he may be one of these, “brat bullies,” the Brits speak of.

Without going into much detail – the situation has been…how shall I say this…swept under the wood chips, if you will.

Pretend…this…never…happened…’kay, then…bye-bye.

Why?

Because his family situation is…um…unique…and I believe that is why his behaving badly is tolerated as much as it is…I’m guessing that the school just doesn’t know how to handle him, without coming off…well…anti-anything.

UGH.

Long story short.

Brat Bully’s object of dis-satisfaction no longer hangs out after school and he’s got Little Man in his cross hairs. 

And, like I told a crying Little Man – when Brat Bully came running toward the playground at the end of the day and punched Little Man dead in the gut…just because, “He was in my way!” — we don’t have to stay, either.  But, it would have to be Little Man’s decision, because if it were up to me, we’d stay, get in Brat Bully’s face and show him that he’s not the boss of us!

Yes, I said US!

Because, quite honestly, I’m also feeling a bit unnerved, myself.  Bullied into being the type of parent that tells his/her kid, “Don’t just stand there, do something…and knock his block off, while you’re at it…m’kay!
Because if it’s not here, it’ll be another Brat Bully on some other playground, somewhere else.

Besides, fast forward a couple of years and playground bullies grow up to be…workplace bullies, yes?

Sigh.

And the girls?

Sadly, I already know what kiddie-experts have been saying in the U.K. - that girls tend to use “non-verbal communication” to bully each other.

And I would venture to guess that those with daughters know what I speak of…best.

Girls run in packs — hell, we can’t even go to bathroom by ourselves — and it’s easier when you got a couple of “your bitches” behind you…when pouncing on your prey

Unless, you’re one of mine…and your name happens to be…Mini-Me.

And as the parents gathered around the center of the playground to see which kid was screaming at who, I herded along and was just as surprised as everyone, to see that it was…yep…Mini-Me.

Takin’ on Brat Bully!

**hands and hips and nose to nose**

“WOOK – MY BWOVER PWAYS HERE, AND MY SISSIES PWAY HERE, AND I GOT A WOT OF FWENDS DAT PWAY HERE!  YOU MESS WIF MY FWENDS…YOU MESS WIF ME – YA GET ME? – AND YOU DON’T WANNA MESS WIF ME, KID!”

Can I just tell you…how scared I was of four-years-old…waving her neck and with her finger in Brat Bully’s face.

“Who’s kid is that?” 

And this…my friends…would be one of those times…when I just have to learn to…walk away.

[blushing]

Pretend this never happened and…just…walk…away…okay?

Okay.

[whistles through teeth, grabs bookbags, turns back on playground and starts walkin’]

I’ll tell you, I am one of the proudest momma’s in the whole blogosphere…right about now…I’m feeling this warm, fuzzy sort of feeling that I just had to share.

Look it what my kid did!

 

 

This was Thing Two before school, this morning. 

 

 

This is Thing Two – after she (and about a dozen other school mates) donated ten inches of hair for the Locks of Love! 

What is Locks of Love? 

Locks of Love is a non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children 18 years and younger suffering from long-term medical hair loss.  We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics.  Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure.  The prostheses we provide help to restore self-esteem & confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers.

Quite honestly – even though she and the other student council members came up with the idea for the charity event — she was a bit nervous and nearly fell out of the chair when the hairdresser asked her four-year-old sister:

“Would you like to cut off your sister’s hair?”

But, she did great — once the hairdresser assured her that she would be “right there” after Thing Two screamed:

“NOOOOOO…DON’T…GIVE…HER…THE…SCISSORS…SHE’S…EVIL!” 

Obviously remembering the time that Mini-Me decided that she needed a haircut and — because I was “too busy” in bed with the flu — when Daddy wasn’t watching…ahem…took matters into her own hands and gave herself a mullet!

 

 

Eh…no biggie…it’s like Thing Two said to her classmates – especially those girls who thought she was “crazy” or who wouldn’t be “caught dead” wearing a style “like that”:

“It’s only hair…it’ll grow back…DUH!”

Okay, minus the “DUH!” part — she really felt too good about what she did, to care if anyone liked her hair, or not – actually, I might of, sort of let…you know…the “DUH!”…slip out.

Because it was obvious — not just to me — even the lunch aides smiled as they watched Thing Two skip to her table, perhaps feeling as if she were walking on air, and I bet you (all the hair products lying around our house) that her head felt a little more…I dunno…like her inner-soul, perhaps.

As light as a feather!  

And who wouldn’t want a piece of that? 

You may not have 10 inches of hair to donate — and that’s okay! — there are plenty of other ways you can help.

You can send a pledge, or perhaps would like to show you care by posting this banner on your website (right click and save to hard drive) and link it to http://www.locksoflove.org.

Isn’t it pretty?

Thank you Locks of Love for making us (along with a whole lot of people) fell…well…it’s like Thing Two told her student council advisory teacher:

“My hair feels short, but my heart feels really, really pretty!”

Did I mention how pretty you look, today?!? 

No, it wasn’t romantic – nor, was it anywhere near as magical as one might imagine a weekend getaway to be – but, I couldn’t have planned a more rejuvenating two days, if I’d tried.

So, I didn’t.

My husband was scheduled to work on Saturday, then helped his sister move rather large pieces of furniture that would take at least four trips and most of the weekend to complete and then…who knows…perhaps we could wave to one another, as we exchanged glances at each other…from the driveway.

I was a bit frazzled, wickedly whipped from the week and (quite frankly) feeling more than a little sorry for myself.

So, after Little Man’s baseball game, I packed up the kids, made everyone make a quick potty stop, threw a couple of juice boxes in the minivan and headed to one of my favorite places — where rest and relaxation are synomous with kindness and simple courtesies such as asking me questions like:

• Can I get you something to drink?
• What would you like to eat?
• How can we make it better, for you?

A quiet haven filled with good smells, not nearly as much street noise, more than a dozen types of flavored teas and plenty of toilet paper.

And I didn’t even need a reservation…just a little rejuvenation…and called ahead to say:

“Break out the Aerobeds…we’re a’comin!”

And as I pulled in with three out of four of my kids…asleep…I thought to myself:

“I’m home…let the magic, begin!”

And as I carried Mini-Me with one arm, and dragged Little Man with the other (clenched firmly under his left pit), my father greeted us at the screen door.

“Holy sh*t, Hon…it’s an invasion…quick, lock the doors…SORRY, NOBODY’S HOME!”

Very freakin’ funny.

“Oh, stop it…let my beautiful babies in, already…don’t listen to him…come on in, Sweetie…and hey, look…you were kind enough to bring some sunshine with you!”

And I swear — as she pointed over my left shoulder while the sun was breaking through the clouds in heavenly ribbons of soft muted light — my Mother could calm the most troubled of nervous conditions.

Even Mini-Me was feeling…a bit out of sorts.

And I…my friends…was a basket case.

It took all of five minutes – and a whiff of my Mother’s freshly-baked Babka – for me to spill my guts like a cheap horror flick!

What a freakin’ mess – one thing lead to another, and somewhere in between ranting about not being able to sleep at night and tired of having to deal with school bullies:

“Who wants to take a walk to the lake?”

Huh?

“I heard there’ve been a couple of turtle sightings!”

Sniff-rubbing eyes-sniff.

“Um…okay.”

I followed behind — because the kids all wanted to drive with Mama and Papa, and…well, could you blame ’em? — parked next to the handicapped spaces and just in front of the shuffle board…um…boards…just as the sun started to warm my cheeks and the wind began to blow the hair from my eyesand lines on my forehead, smooth.

Little Man had his knuckle-head going on…as usual. 

We walked down to the water, fed the fish, marveled at the size of the jurasic-like-turtles and took a long, lazy hike around the lake, where met by bunnies, frogs and even a baby turtle.

“Cewl, check out how cute this little guy, is!”

And as I gently lifted the baby turtle, rubbed the belly of his shell and went to release him closer to the muddy bank, my kids gaped:

“Ew…don’t touch it…you don’t know where it’s been…it’s got germs, you know…and it could get you really, really sick!”

**raises right eyebrow and grins**

“Come here and give me a kiss, baby!”

And as I wagged my tongue and pretended to kiss…the turtle…I bet you dollars to donuts that you’ve never seen four kids run so fast, or scream so loud:

“EWWWWW…THAT’S TOTALLY GROSS, MOM!”

You think that’s freaky — I believe I’ve developed an affinity to shuffle board — you should have seen me kick their collective little asses…figuratively speaking, of course!

Thing One doesn’t like to lose and sulked…for all of five minutes…’cause we were at Mama’s and Papa’s house, after all…DUH!

 

Thing Two “borrowed” my cell phone to “practice taking pictures” and just happened to save and label this particular one, “Kiss me, I’m a freak!” 

 

And then she wanted to take a picture of me…getting my freak on…with Little Man!

Thanks, Mama and Papa — the magic worked — I’m feeling a whole lot better!  

Yeah, maybe I am a little bit of a freak — but, at least I was finally (for the first time in a long time) a happy little freak – and it takes one to know one.

**raises right eyebrow and wags tongue**

Let the fun…begin!