Boring

Today I:

Said goodbye to my parents

Packed two lunches and a healthy snack

Felt crappy about my outfit and changed

Checked on a friend

Returned ill-fitting clothing

Admitted being wrong

Made the kids take a nap because I was tired

Had too much coffee

Repurposed leftovers

 Vacuumed

Cleaned the bathroom

Did 4 loads of laundry

Mopped the kitchen

Talked on the phone

Helped with homework

Listened to my favorite songs

Took a bath

Climbed into bed before 8pm

Posted on my blog even though I didn’t feel like it. 

 

Campaigning

Back to school night was yesterday at #1′s school, and while I deeply care about his education, I had no desire to go.  Actually, I did want to go, but I was more in the mood for a private tour of the school followed by a one-on-one conversation with his teacher, and I would have preferred to have worn pajamas.  Unfortunately, that invitation must have gotten lost in the mail, and I was forced to join the hoards of eager parents in a space better suited for people who weigh less than 50 pounds. 

It was all that led up to the event that really got me in an unpleasant place.  In the two-hours prior to the event, I needed to pick up #1 from school, have him do his homework, feed three kids, and give three kids a bath, as well as continue my frenzied cleaning of the house so that the babysitter didn’t think we were animals.  By the time Mr. I. walked in, I was at my breaking point.  We had a friendly exchange in which he questioned the necessity of me showering before the event and told me nearly a billion times how excited he was to attend.  Both subjects irritated me equally.

When we finally made it out the door, I tried relaxing.  I had gotten everything done I needed to do, and by some miracle, we were on time.  As we arrived at the school, I took a deep breath, and willed myself to make the best of our very first back to school.  I felt the corners of my mouth starting to make their way up to at least a horizontal position.

And then out of nowhere, a female politician (FP) grabbed my hand and said, “Hi Mom!  I’d really appreciate your vote in November.” 

My near-smile retreated, and was replaced by my most serious glare because there are three people in this world who should be calling me “mom,” and I was pretty sure they were home in bed. 

So, no, FP, you won’t be getting my vote come November, unless you can somehow prove that your journey to this world began in my uterus.  Otherwise, save yourself a handshake and a smile, and let me walk on by, although my husband is appreciative that you redirected my anger from him to you.  You’ll definitely get his vote.

Happy Birthday

Top Ten Signs I’m Officially Old

10.  The kids talk about events in the past and insist I won’t remember because it happened when “you were twenty.”

9.  I celebrated my birthday with an early bird dinner at Jason’s Deli. 

8.  I was nervous things were getting too wild when we started a movie after 9pm. 

7.  After opening presents, I had the urge to box everything back up and save it for a special occasion.

6.  I felt tears welling as the kids sang Happy Birthday. 

5.  I had to renew my driver’s license even though I was sure I had just done it the other day, which was actually five years ago. 

4.  My favorite gift was a Tempurpedic pillow.

3.  I remember thinking my mom was old when she turned my age.  (No wonder the kids speak nostalgically of my twenties.)

2.  My kids made a collage of me to emphasize how much I’ve changed.  It frightened us all. 

1.  I texted my friend in preparation for our celebratory overnight to the city:  “Do you mind packing tweezers and nose hair scissors?”

 

 

Control

Homeschool, oh homeschool, how I miss thee. (or is it thou?)  The fact that I cannot figure that out tells me that I made the right decision in sending my children to professionals who can answer these types of questions definitively. 

Sending #1 to “real school” has really changed our family’s rhythm.  The days feel hectic and exhausting, but in a new way that I’ve come to loathe, and after nearly eight days of our new schedule, I’ve figured out why:  I am no longer in charge, and I don’t like it. 

I was really looking forward to #1, #2, and #3 being cracked down on by someone other than myself, but what I didn’t anticipate was that my life was about to be ruled by someone else too.  First off, I no longer have the luxury of showing up places when it’s most convenient for me.  No one at #1′s school cares that I have three kids who have aversions to the seams in socks.  This creates quite a time-suck in the morning, that if I were in charge, wouldn’t exist.  I don’t care if my kids wear flip-flops all winter, but the school does.  So now we’ve got real problems.  They must wear proper foot attire AND be on time.  It just isn’t possible.

Additionally, #2 and #3 have come home with “homework” that essentially requires me to use scissors and construction paper in my spare time.  I’m sorry, I can’t.  I guess the school is unaware that I’m not actually counting on the kids learning, merely paying for a safe place to house them so I can do necessary tasks on my own such as stare at the wall and exceed my daytime phone minutes.

Forget about the amount of time I waste sitting in carpool lines four times a day, and the incessant packing of lunch bags, snack bags, backpacks, and tote bags, it’s too much.  I much preferred the unscheduled days of leisurely pajama trips, sans shoes, to the Starbucks drive-through, and returning home to puzzles, books, Legos, picnics, and all the control I’ve ever wanted.

Another Tale from the Restroom

As I may have mentioned a time or two before on here, a couple of my kids love using public restrooms.  It could actually be considered a hobby for them at this point.  It’s not so much that they relish a fun outing as much as they love the promise of a porcelain bowl, crawling in germs, that they’ve never before used.

The thing I may not have disclosed, up to this point, is that trips to public restrooms spur them to discuss humiliating topics, and I don’t blame them.  There is a lot to experience in there.  It’s a barrage of the senses, and why wouldn’t they want to provide a running commentary on everything they see, hear, smell, touch, or heaven forbid, taste in there.   

Occasionally, I’ll hear someone a stall or two over chuckle at something one of them shares, but typically, no one is amused, including me.  However, during one of our more recent trips to the mall, I couldn’t help but find the humor in the situation.

As I was hoisting #2 up to the sink to wash her hands, it was #3′s turn at the potty.  As he pulled his pants down, I heard him exclaim, “Oh no, I got skid marks.” 

This sends #1 into hysterics and left me wondering when the kid last changed his underwear.  I plunked #2 down and rushed over to survey the damage.  I found nothing.

“You don’t have skid marks,” I reassured him and anyone else who may have been listening.

“Yes, I do,” he insisted, pointing to some indentations his elastic shorts had left around his waist.  “Right here.  See the SKIN marks!!”

I did indeed, and was relieved that what he was pointing to wouldn’t require an emergency load of laundry, only a bigger pair of shorts.  Luckily, we were already at the mall.

I’m back!

I’ve been on a little break working on some special projects, but starting tonight, I’ll be back to my regularly scheduled, mediocre posting. Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too!!

Dear Lady

Dear Lady,

Congratulations on the birth of your second child.  You must have your hands full with a preschooler and a baby.  I can’t imagine what you are going through.  Keeping an eye on that preschooler while the baby is passed out in his car seat must be more than you can handle because I can think of no other reason that you would let your son whiz all over the toilet seat and floor and not even attempt to clean it up, knowing my daughter and I were waiting right outside the door.

That was low.  I would give you a pass if you had been simultaneously feeding the baby and taking the preschooler to the bathroom, but you weren’t.  So while my daughter was on the verge of wetting herself, I got to mop up the urine of your son.  You’re welcome.  It was the highlight of my day. 

Additionally, because I care,  I would like to point out that your son may be slightly dehydrated.  You might want to up the fluid intake until his urine resembles the color of lemonade rather than apple juice.  You didn’t even have to fork over a co-pay for that information. 

You are lucky I was in an example-setting mood when we encountered each other.  I thought I was doing a good thing in teaching my daughter compassion for others, but looking back, all she got from that is that cleaning up other people’s’ piss is her responsibility.  It is not.  So I write this as much for her as for you. 

In the future, when your son’s poor aim results in a toilet that you wouldn’t sit on, wipe it off, particularly when you’ve taken him in to the ladies’ bathroom.  Last I checked, most of us are still tinkling from a seated position. 

So best of luck with #2.  I hope he pees in your face later.  Think of me. 

Cheers,

My Hands Are Actually Full

Lesson Learned

I was furious this morning.  As I mentioned yesterday, I was nearly dead this weekend and needless to say, was severely lacking energy this morning.  During one of the two times I managed to sustain an upright position for more that 30 seconds yesterday, I went downstairs and decided to sweep and mop the kitchen.  Mr. Incredible didn’t see the necessity.  He swore he would take care of everything by the time he left for work in the morning.  I reluctantly went back to bed and stared at the cobwebs on my ceiling. 

Back to this morning.  He left for work after taking #2 to school, which was helpful, but when I made it downstairs, it looked like a bomb had gone off.  I did what any self-respecting woman would do.  I called him and ranted hysterically.

“Did you not see the mess?  Everywhere, it’s everywhere.  There is nowhere I can go to escape it.  I’m sick and exhausted and you expect me to watch your kids in this disaster of a house.  I can’t do it anymore!!!”  (Always throw in the word “anymore” to these conversations.  It gives the illusion that the situation is so dire that you may actually call it quits for good.)

And then I hung up, but I still didn’t feel better.  I didn’t get the impression that he knew what I was talking about.  So I got out my phone and began taking pictures of the chaos and emailing them to him in rapid succession, which definitely got his attention.

He called and said he felt horrible and would come home if I wanted him to, which wasn’t the fight I was looking for.  It just made me feel bad.  So now I was sick-ish, in a messy house, feeling terrible about being so mean, so I did the only thing I could.  I sucked down a Gatorade and got to work. 

I re-rearranged a room he had rearranged without my approval over the weekend and cleaned and mopped and picked-up until the downstairs was perfect.  And then I collapsed in a pile on my bed and felt thankful the kids were napping.  I had for sure overdone it and to prove nothing to anyone other than that I’m a raging lunatic when I’m mad. 

And then he came home.  Early.  He creeped up the stairs, and I smiled, not so much a happy-to-see-you-smile as a smug grin that said, I won a game that only I was playing.  He wisely said the house looked great. 

“Anything else?” I inquired.

“Immaculate, actually, and it smells great too,” he cautiously and optimistically replied. 

“YOU DIDN’T NOTICE ANYTHING ELSE?!”

I could tell he wished he had noticed something, but at that moment, staring into his desperate and slightly frightened eyes, I realized he wasn’t rude, he was honestly and completely oblivious.  I had rearranged an entire room and the foyer, both of which he passed by on his way upstairs, and it didn’t even register.  If that didn’t catch his attention, then there is no way I can expect him to notice the million little things I started off the day being mad about.  I just wished I had known all that before I worked so hard.

Happy Easter

The kids traditionally wait at the top of the stairs on holidays and birthdays so that we can can digitally preserve the moment when they see whatever is waiting for them downstairs.  Nine times out of ten, the camera malfunctions, and they have to sit on the top step for a long time.  They think this is normal.

 

After they check out what E.B. left in their baskets on the table, they head outside to look for the eggs he hid while they were sleeping.  I’m very meticulous about filling and hiding eggs.  Unfortunately, I’ve been on my death-bed, so I was just happy to see that the bunny showed-up.  The kids barely noticed the discrepancies.

Thank goodness I purchased their coordinating pajamas before being struck with the plague.  Mr. Incredible didn’t see the necessity, but even he can’t deny that kids in striped jammies, wearing rain boots, and hunting for eggs are adorable. 

#2 chose to accessorize her look with a pink robe, bow, and leg warmers.  She missed half the hunt because she must have decided the leg warmers were too much and spent most of the time removing them.  It didn’t matter how many eggs she got, as long as she looked good doing it. 

I have no idea what #3 was doing.  He’d already consumed a lot of chocolate at this point.  Getting a decent picture of three kids is nearly impossible.  Keep that in mind if you are debating on a third.  I’m not saying don’t, just take a lot of cute pictures of the two you already have before you do it. 

Speaking of cute pictures, sorry there are none of the kids dressed up and heading to church.  Because of the plague, we stayed home.  Next weekend I’ll unveil the Easter outfits.   Happy Easter!

Top Ten . . .

Top Ten Most Annoying Things Kids Do

10.  Want to do everything by themselves, until you are too busy to help. 

9.  Pick their noses even though they’ve been offered a Kleenex.

8.  Run everywhere all day long, but as soon as you are in a hurry or it’s raining, walk so slowly it looks like they are being dragged.

7.  Point out people’s flaws loudly and when you have nowhere to escape, most frequently a check-out line.

6.  Sleep in only on the days you have to be somewhere early.

5.  Constantly step on your feet despite the fact that you regularly remind them that your feet are always located directly beneath you. 

4.  Step in mud or dog poop immediately after getting new shoes. 

3.  Fall asleep in the last 15 minutes of an eight-hour car trip.

2.  Beg to buy a toy and then never play with it.

1.  Grow-up too fast. 

Have a great weekend!  It’s good to be back!!