Hey, look, finally, a post that has absolutely NOTHING to do with the weather (anyone mentions anything about snow and the ground hog gets it!) however, I will say that we’re each getting a little sick (and tired) of all the closeness, around here.
“Girls go to college to get more knowledge!”
Especially, my two youngest children.
“But, boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider!”
See what I mean?
“That’s not right!”
Thank goodness, the two oldest girls have my back.
“You mean, more stupid!”
Sort of.
“Keep it up and ya’ll going to Jupiter!”
Long story, short (you’re welcome) at our house, the war of girls vs. boys has been going on for quite some time now and, well, if you ask me, it really doesn’t matter (whether you’re a boy, or girl, I mean) they’re ALL driving me nucking futs, too!
“Smart Alec said that playing the clarinet is stupid!”
Et tu minivan?
“What did you say?”
Hope’s first choice was to play the flute [cringe] but, I told her maybe the clarinet would be, you know, way cooler, considering there really aren’t enough female clarinet players in the world.
“I told him maybe he should think about playing the clarinet, then!”
[snort!]
“How many clarinets does it take to change a light bulb?”
Either way, it just occurred to me, that I forgot to ask what instrument Smart Alec plays.
Almost 3 years ago, I watched my oldest daughter leave the house, for the first time, as a freshman in high school and I thought to myself…PHEW!…1 down and 3 to go!
Heather’s 8th Grade Formal
This year, Heather (she’s my middle girl) celebrated her last year of middle school by attending the 8th grade formal.
Glen’s 5th Grade Graduation
Glen (my only son) graduated 5th grade and is officially now the 3rd Thompson to hit the middle school…in 5 years.
Happy 9th Birthday, Hopey
Aaaand, my youngest daughter just celebrated her last year, before hitting double-digits and was SO excited during her 4th grade orientation, knowing that her sisters and brother attended the same school, and happily admitted to her future new principal, “Nope, I’m the LAST one!”
What? I forgot to get the candle and 8 + 1 = 9, right?
The cake was supposed to say, “Happy Everything!” but, I didn’t bust my husband’s chops about it (see caption) honestly, I was just too busy stumbling around…feeling all dazed and confused…okay, it’s been like that for the last 7 years…but, I am STILL blogging…there, I said it, can I go home now?
As you can see, it is written all over my face (the years, since I started blogging, I mean) still, I can’t help but feel that with all these changes (the aforementioned happening ALL in the same week, btw) I have reached a milestone, of my own.
No, it hasn’t gotten any easier (nuh-uh, sorry!) but, at least now my kids are now old enough to realize that…nope…life isn’t always perfect (I know, act surprised anyway!) however, as their mother (yes, they are ALL mine) I have also learned to embrace those imperfections (mostly) and I truly believe we are ALL stronger for it.
It stopped raining (YAY!) so looking forward to FINALLY getting out of the house for the NWF: Be Out There Challenge…um…as soon as my two oldest girls, you know, wake up!
[FWIW: I’m a Founding Mother of NWF’s Be Out There program
– just helping families (like mine) get their kids outside and enjoy
nature, more – no payment was received for this blog post.]
Helloooooooow, my name is Sassy. Doofus-Dawg isn’t here, right now. Why? Uh. Good question.
[looks left, looks right]
Beeeeeeeecawse. Um. I ate him, yeah.
[snarl]
As if, right?
Actually, his mommy put him in a time out. I mean, I told him NOT to eat the garbage this morning. But, you know, he’s a DOOFUS and, well, I’m not.
DER!
Aaaaaaaaayway, Doofus-Dawg’s mommy is letting me sleepover, for a little while (i.e. what, in human terms is, like, I dunno, 2 weeks, or something, I think) while my mommy and daddy are on vacation, without me (DAMMIT!) and, you know, I kinda, sort like it here.
There’s lots of little humans, running around, ready to rub my belly and play with me and, well, what’s one more, right?
So, c’mon in. Sit down! The couch gots these real BIG mooshable pillows and, well, Doofus-Dawg is kinda sort not tawking to me, at the moment.
[sniff]
See? His mommy says he’s just a little jealous, or something. Me? I think he’s maybe even a little scared of me, too.
‘Cawse, you know, I can be real scary, sometimes.
[snarl]
See? Friggin’ frightening, right? So, don’t make me have to use UPPERGROWL, okay?
Oh, and you have yourself a nice day. If anybody tells you different, just send them to me.
Why?
‘Cawse, like Doofus-Dawg’s mommy, I’m a Jersey girl and, well, she woke up with a real bad headache and is pretty p.o.’d at Doofus, at the moment, so I don’t wanna have to make her Monday any ruffer than it has to be, ya’ know?
Today, you are fourteen and, well, like I told your sister Holly (in her birthday letter, last month) Holy Hannah Montana, the years are just flying by. No matter how hard I try to deny the fact that my two oldest girls are getting older (me too, DAMMIT!) time insists on slipping through my fingers, burrowing deeper into my chest and squeezing away a little piece of my heart, each year.
Remember yesterday, when everyone left us alone at the breakfast table and you and I talked about when you were little. How you cried a lot and never slept.
Me, too.
Except, you DID sleep in your car seat (a little) in our first minivan, you know, Daddy’s Windstar (may it rest in peace) while I drove around town, in the middle of the night, through tears of frustration…both yours and mine.
I know now that, right from the beginning, you were developing a keen sense of empathy and was just hypersensitive to the world around you.
“I’m sorry, Momma!”
Still are.
“For what?”
It’s like you know exactly how I’m feeling, or when to make daddy smile.
“Thinking about that makes me wanna cry.”
[blank stare]
See what I mean?
“Soooo, you wanna go for a drive?”
Although, most folks would probably consider outwitting your parents at the dinner table, on a daily basis, as borderline brilliant — especially, to your siblings — I really do miss your knock-knock jokes.
“Just you and me, okay?”
I know how hard it is to be the middle child…sort of…literally, wedged between two sisters, having to share one bedroom, which you end up cleaning, by yourself, mostly and giving up the corner of the couch, so your baby brother could better reach his sippy cup.
“So what, mom STILL makes me use one, when I’m sick, too.”
You were my little keeper of the peace; still are.
Aaaaand now, well, you ARE fourteen, one year post surgery and looking forward to joining your sis in high school, next year (DAMMIT!) not to mention, proving yourself to be the bravest and strongest kid I know, over and over again.
So, there’s nothing much more I can say (without crying, again) besides, what I used to say, you know, when you were little:
“I love you more than the moon and the stars!”
Aaaaand, Momma’s gonna sing (yeah, AGAIN!) ready?
[clears throat]
Happy Birthday, my Christmas Baby You’re fourteen, I can’t believe it’s true But, I’ve just one wish on this special day…
You see,
Hope is our youngest and, being 4th in an already long line waiting to get
into the bathroom (my 16 year old has moved in, apparently) and, well, it’s like we get a do-over, sort of.
“You never let US sleepover anyone’s house until we were, like, in middle school!”
Yes, but I also pointed out the fact that Hope has never had her own room. Okay, neither did Heather (consider yourself lucky, Holly) but, that’s NOT the point.
“When can I get a second hole, like Heather?”
[eyes go wide]
“I think wearing 2 earrings in the same ear looks cool!”
Oh, phew, I thought she meant [remembers that Heather might be reading this, right now] never mind.
“Maybe when you’re 10.”
WHAT?
I know, I know, but you don’t live here (you’re welcome!) or have to hear constant comparisons being made on just how terrible of a mother I am, was and forever shall be, no matter what I do, do you?
“Did you hear what Hope did, today?”
I came home from work, one night…um…this week (I think) and, though Garth [not his real name] has stepped up to the dinner plate, rather nicely (his home made chicken fingers taste way better than mine, DAMMIT) let’s just say that, apparently, he was a tyrannical slave driver in a previous life and the kids are, you know, beginning to really miss me.
[closes eyes and rubs left temple]
“What now?”
Long story short (you’re welcome!) her father was looking through her backpack (seriously, the guy IS anal) when he saw an envelope marked “from the class mom” opened it and found it was filled with change.
“$10.00, to be exact.”
Quarters, nickles, dimes and pennies, ALL stuffed into a smallish white envelope.
“What, is she extorting money from the class mom, now?”
Not exactly.
“It’s for the teacher’s gift.”
Apparently, she’s lived with me long enough to know that, you know, I sometimes don’t remember to sit down and actually read the bazillion handouts, that come home, anymore (seriously, there are some freakishly anal people out there!) and she’s absolutely right.
“I’m almost exactly 8 and a half, now.”
Yeah, I know and it’s making me feel a little sad.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
Okay, more than a little sad.
“So, can I have an allowance?”
I’m all torn up that my littlest elf can NOW reach all the way up to the top shelf.
