From SAHM to WOHM

This is a HUGE change for me and the entire family.  I will start a full time, 9-5 in an office, job on Monday.  I am excited, terrified and worried all at once.

There have been some MAJOR changes in the Southern household lately.  I have been on an emotional roller coaster these past 2.5 months and I am ready to settle into a new routine.  I am not entirely happy to be leaving my SAHM post, but am ready for a new adventure.  I think I have found a good office and, hopefully, will learn a lot from my new co-workers.

A BIG concern was who will take care of Evie while I am working.  It just so happens that SoHubby will be with her for the mornings, then she will have MawMaw three times a week and her favorite Special Instructor twice a week.  It is such a load off my mind to know that she will be with familiar faces.  Evie is so excited to go to her SI’s house, which has taken some of the worry off of me.  And when she is with MawMaw she will be at our house, which should ease the transition from having mom all day to seeing mom only in the mornings and afternoons.  It will be hard on me.  I will miss her terribly.  It doesn’t help that she has asked me several times, with that little face, “You go to work, mommy?”.  I think I will feel better once she starts school in the fall.

I am wondering how I will feel about this other side of the debate.  My whole identity has been wrapped up in being a SAHM.  What will my identity be, now?  My belief system is changing.  Many things that I have held to be truths for the last 12 years has been shattered in a matter of months.  Like my house needing to be cleaned everyday…gone.  There is no time for that and I have learned that the world didn’t stop and the house is not a complete disaster.  I have, also, learned that I don’t have to do everything.  The kids can help.  SoHubby can help.  And most importantly, if these little things don’t get done, the world doesn’t end and we all won’t die.  I am such a routine person, that any small change to that routine is hard for me.  Grocery shopping will be done whenever and probably with all 3 kids in tow.  It will be rushed and not like a precise mission as before.  Relying on SoHubby to do appointments, shuttling kids and sharing household duties means letting go of how I want things done to allowing for him to do things his way.  BIG changes.

It, also, means learning to deal with stress and unexpected changes better.  My new motto is it will all work out.  Why?  Because it has to.  There is no room for stress filled tirades.  Somethings will just have to wait for another time or have to be  let go of altogether.  It is a hard road to change your entire identity that you have become accustomed to for over a decade.  I will say that I am happy that I have had the younger years at home with my kids.  I think it was better for them and better for me.  That is not a statement on anyone else; just a statement on our family.  SoHubby says that the universe is unfolding the way it should.  I say I wish I would have had a heads up, but I  am living and learning.  I have rediscovered how great our friends are, reconnected to family and shown me that life doesn’t have to go the way you plan for it to be good.

Read Full Post »

Future Olympian?

TaeKwonDo?

Maybe, gymnastics?

I guess we won’t stop the college fund just yet.

Read Full Post »

Sam’s Bedroom

Sam, finally, got his birthday present.  It was only a few months late.

Sam came home to 4 white walls and the only crib set I could stomach.  I never knew how hard it was to decorate for a boy, especially, when I hadn’t met him, yet.  I remember standing in front of that wall of crib bedding at Babies R Us.  Did I like the dinosaurs?  Nah.  Did I like the cars?  Meh, Did I like the baseball theme?  UH, NO!  SoHubby was going to go for the flower one, so I, finally,  settled on the baby jungle theme.  Everyone loves baby jungle animals, right?  So that was Sam’s room for 5 yrs: white walls, a couple of shelves, a dresser, and a crib/toddler bed.  It took the third kid to figure out I didn’t need a whole bedding set.  They just cause trouble, anyway.

It was the perfect time to decorate Sam’s room: 1. He was 5 yrs old and needed to get out of his crib/toddler bed.  and 2. I had gotten to know him, so I knew what he wanted.  His room is a superhero/Star Wars theme.  I have been corrected many times when I mentioned his room is a Superhero room only to be told that Star Wars is not superhero.  Yeah, whatever.

The easy part was telling Sam all about his room.  The hard part was actually doing the room.  I have a fear of painting.  Throughout the months I gathered posters, frames, bedding, curtains, and paint samples.  Oh Lord, the paint samples!  While I have a fear of painting, which includes picking out the color, SoHubby, on the other hand, has no fear of paint samples.  When we were deciding on a color for our living room he would bring home handfuls of paint samples everyday.  After awhile, all the colors blended together.  I still don’t know what you call the color of our living room, but I know we can call it finished.

Then at the end of summer I had got the courage to buy 2 paint samples.  It would take me another few weeks to get the courage to actually put them on the wall.  Once you put that sample on the wall that’s it, you must commit to painting the whole thing.

It seems fitting that one massive storm inhibited us from preparing for Sam like we did with Amber, but another (not so massive) storm would get our butts in gear.  Since we were all stuck home because of tropical storm Lee, I decided to bite the bullet and paint the room.  There were many trips to Home Depot.  Me letting go and trusting people, who you know do this kind of thing all the time.  And SoHubby actually being trapped at home to help me.  I was shocked that it took only a couple of hours to paint the room.  Once that was done, we were off and running.  There was some mishaps with those Command Strip things, which just forced us to go old school and use nails.  Here is Sam’s room pretty much done.  If anyone can suggest where I can find a slightly more big boy lamp shade, I can call the room officially done.

The entrance.
These are pictures from the movie How to Train a Dragon.
Seem fitting that dragons would protect his room.

Sam’s new bed, curtains, Yoda clock (on the shelf), superhero posters nicely framed
And, of course, a Clone Trooper helmet to round things out.
The Clone Trooper helmet is actually from one of the many Halloween
costumes I got on sale.

A closer look at the posters.  He got Spiderman and Transformer bedding.
As you can see my son doesn’t sleep under the comforter, but ontop with his
fleece blanket.
I really do like the paint color.  I think it highlights the posters well.

The other side of the room and my favorite Spiderman poster.
That is Bumblebee’s helmet.
We have a Bobo Fett helmet, but for some reason it scares Sam at night, or so he says.  I have to say I never thought, I would call to my son and demand that he takes his Bobo Fett helmet to his room, because “it doesn’t belong in the playroom”. Yeah, life is kind of surreal with kids.

You can see the offending lamp shade.  Such a small detail that gives me fits.
I think I made up for it with the reusable wall stickers of Ben 10 Ultimate Alien Force. Don’t ask me anymore about Ben 10, because I have told you all I know and I get yelled at, because “I have told you a million times, mom.  Why can’t you remember?”  These stickers are a source of entertainment for Sam and SoHubby.
And when I say entertainment, I mean war of how the stickers should be applied.
Amber, Sam and SoHubby put the stickers on the wall.  There was much disagreement where certain ones should go.  Now, SoHubby will move a sticker only to have Sam come behind him and move it back.

And my favorite, the giant Anakin Skywalker wall sticker. It took a bit to put up, but I did it.  The best part, his lightsaber glows in the dark.  That alone should win me the Coolest Mom award.
These wall stickers are so cool and I love them. I can’t wait to use these when I redo the girls’ room, which won’t be until Evie is in a twin bed.  If history as taught us anything that won’t be for another 3 years.

And as a bonus we got these smaller stickers.  Sadly, the little lightsabers don’t glow, but I think that would be asking too much.

I am so happy we, finally, got Sam’s room done. It feels like it is truly his room, now.

Read Full Post »

The Beginning of Many “Interesting” Conversations

Amber turned 9 years old in June and, apparently, that is when the “interesting” conversations begin.  I was mildly shocked when Amber asked me where babies came from last school year. Our birds and bee discussion occurred across the middle row of our Suburban while Evie was too young to know what we were talking about and Sam was engrossed in a movie.  I felt it was better not to want until we got home, because by that time I would have forgotten and before Amber became a zombie who’s brain had been taken over by the Disney channel.  So I seized the moment and gave her all the dirty details.  Which at the end of my well, yet quickly, thought out lecture on sex Amber replied with a EWWWWWWWWWW!!!  Let’s hope she has the same feelings at ages 13-25.  I gave myself a quick little pat on the back and hope that was the last of any interesting conversations for awhile.  Then Amber turned 9 years old and a whole new world opened up.

At Amber’s well check-up I filled out the questionnaire sheet and was shocked at one of the questions, “Have you talked to your child about drugs, smoking and drinking?”.  Um, NO!  I braced myself for the doctor to bring it up, but he didn’t.  However, that question has been rattling around my brain.  I figured the best was to answer the questions, but it never occurred to me to actually bring up the subject.  I have mixed feelings about this approach.  On the one hand, if I wait too long Amber could be left unprepared.  Yet, if I bring it up will she get “ideas”?  So I have been thinking about it.  SoHubby and I don’t drink or do drugs.  Life tends to be easier that way.  SoHubby does smoke cigars, but the kids rarely sees him do it.  Although, Amber went through a phrase in Kindergarten where she lectured us on the horrors of smoking.  The school had someone come talk to the kids regarding smoking.  I am at a lost of how to bring it up.

Add to it that I am at a lost for words, recently.  Sam has recently come to the conclusion that he is a superhero and is out to protect any damsel in distress.  Often times, he misunderstands the situation.  We were at Chick Fil A where I look over to see Sam in a karate stance facing a teen boy.  I grabbed out of the play area and asked him what was going on.  Sam’s version is that “That boy was being mean to the little girl.”  My simple explanation is that you are NOT superhero and can’t go around threatening people.  Which ended with the agreement that when he is 80 yrs old he will save the world.  How do you explain to a 5 yr old how to gauge a situation?  Later, Amber would tell me that the teen boy was the little girl’s brother and he was just banging on the play structure to get her attention.  This seems to be a running theme in my parenting.  I am at a lost for words most times, because the questions have gone beyond, why is the sky blue.  I can’t just tell them that is the way it is.  They are catching on to that one.

Read Full Post »

Don’t Believe the Hype

It is that time of the year, again, not even Halloween or Thanksgiving, but the catalogs for Christmas shopping are rolling in.  I know these businesses just have our best interest at heart wanting us to have a stress free Christmas by getting all our shopping done early.  Or in other words that filled the house on Sunday, “I WANT AN AMERICAN GIRL DOLL!”.  Funny, my strong need for some calming drugs kicked in immediately after, hence the stress free Christmas.  Are you listening Santa?

Most of these catalogs end up in the basket in the bathroom. You know for some light reading when you are….um….busy.  Not what those companies expected, but it is better than quick death by trash can.  Everyone has their favorites.  Sam loves the Halloween catalogs that started arriving in August.  Amber loves the American Girl catalog that only seem to arrive around Christmas.  A little word of advice to the American Girl company, you might want to start early so I can save up a little instead of cracking open the kids’ college funds.  SoHubby doesn’t get many of his favorite catalogs anymore since Sam seems to have taken interest in the girls in “bikinis”.  Those meet the aforementioned quick death.  Mine is Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma.

We all have our reasons for liking whichever catalog.  I am assuming it is the daydreams that each catalog brings to light for that person flipping through.  If only Amber had an American Girl her life would be perfect, no more troubles at school, everyone would like her and her brother would leave her alone.  If only Sam had that kick ass Halloween costume and decorations his world would be perfect, no more troubles at school, no more being forced to eat garbage (for the record, my son thinks anything other than Kraft mac and cheese, chicken nuggets and McDonald’s is garbage), and his big sister would not scream whenever he came within 10 feet of her possessions. We won’t go into SoHubby’s fantasies daydreams.  His mind is a scary place to be, so I stay away as much as possible.  For me, if only my whole house looked like Pottery Barn and I had every gadget from Willams-Sonoma  my life would be perfect, no more financial worries (do you get the irony of that statement?), no more yelling at the kids, no more being tired, etc., etc., etc., etc. I would become freakin Donna Reed and suddenly a picket fence would pop up in our front yard.  A picket fence that would be able to keep out the gators and coyotes.

Alas, when I get in these daydreaming types of situations my logical brain stands up, loudly slams it’s fist on the table and screams “WAKE UP! “  in my ear.  Or maybe it just thrusts me back to the beginning of our marriage.  I am not sure if this is how it went down, but I have condensed all these discussions into one.  I am sitting in our glider upstairs holding a screaming baby Amber and having SoHubby talk in that “be calm, don’t move quickly or she will attack” tone.  He tells me that there are millions of women out there “doing it all” and happy.  Then I lunge at him and scratch his eyes out.  No, not really, but I do explain that we never truly know what goes on behind those beautifully painted front doors of those beautifully kept lawns in those serene neighborhoods.  I mean hasn’t every interview regarding a serial killer started out, “He seemed so normal and never bothered anyone.”  Except for the few hundred people he had buried in his back yard.  So I decided to give all of you a behind the scenes look at all those perfect catalog pictures:

This is a cry for help, really.
You may see a loving way to show off pictures of love ones and CDs.
The truth is I snapped these babies up, along with the majority of the Bargain Hunting Board,
at a great sale price to store my unwillingness to try new technology.
I bought these with every intention to hold all my CDs and the ones I still buy, because
I will be DAMNED, if I am giving in and spending money to buy the same music in digital form.
Also, this was my first major purchase from Pottery Barn and SoHubby’s first venture into
the Honey-Do list and making up new swear words.

These are ledge shelves.  They look so sleek and homey, don’t they.
I had the bright idea, which came shortly after the purchase of the “grid”,
to get these shelves to display pictures and books.
You see we don’t have room for a coffee table or sofa table, so this was our best option.
While these shelves look nice and well thought out placed, I wouldn’t get too close to that last shelf there.
Matter of fact, I wouldn’t even blow on it.
It is not so steady nor straight.
And if you are taller than most children, don’t look at that top shelf.
I may not have been dusting it so well, because I am horizontally challenge.
Don’t miss all those strategically placed books that make us look smart, especially that Louvre book
written in French and actually bought in France at the Louvre.
Mais non!
And you might want to skip over the collection of Calvin and Hobbes and Far Side books.
Although, those are the only books anyone ever takes off a shelf to read.
I will just leave it at that.

And now I would like to present our pride and joy.
Many stories come with this sofa.
While picking it out, SoHubby parked his butt on the one in the store and almost fell asleep,
I proceeded to show my boob to everyone at our local Pottery Barn (I guess it was okay, because there was a baby attached),
and the delivery process was one that would cause much trauma but would end in a $1000 gift certificate from Pottery Barn.
Many times when I am down and can’t face the world, I think of that gift card and remember every wonderful second of picking
out exactly which items I would purchase.
You can see 6 of those items on the sofa.
While this sofa looks like it would make all of the day’s stresses fall away, and it does, it does present stresses of it’s own.
Just the mere cost of this thing (most expensive piece of furniture in our home) makes me twitch when the kids come near it.
There are spots that cause me to drift off into many questions, like, who did this, good G-d what could this be, how can I get this off
my perfection of a sofa, and finally why oh why did I ever think to buy such a great sofa when there are kids in the house.
This sofa has taught us one big lesson, if you want nice things don’t have kids, or, at least, wait until they are out of the house.
Sofa cushions can only be turned once.

Look at that GREAT playroom rug.  I mean wouldn’t you spend hours and hours driving your cars all over the streets and railroad.
The best part of this rug was it was free.  Yeah, FREE!!
It was bought with my blood gift card.
When I saw it, I knew I had to have it.  You know for the kids.
I just knew if I had this rug that the kids would play nice and keep the room clean at all times.
Um, it didn’t quite work out that way, as you can tell from the picture above.
And Sam has never run is cars or trains on the roads and tracks, although there have been some artistic expressions on the rug.

A couple of other items I purchase with my gift card that I was sure would provide the perfect space for my little angels
to be creative, play happily and stay out of my hair for hours on end.
With these curtains and rod there would never be anyone complaining how bored they are and no one would for sure
mistake this as a climbing or swinging structure.
Again, I was disappointed.
We are just lucky that the construction crew put these curtains up so the kids didn’t kill themselves while swinging.
Me, on the other hand, has threaten death by mom look many times.
Oh and my theme for the playroom?
Outside.
Oh the irony of this just keeps getting better and better.

While we were getting curtains that would make our lives perfect, we got some for the living room.
I have to say that these curtains are rather perfect for their purpose, but don’t look too close.
They are pretty from far away, but since I  have been putting off cleaning them they are not so perfect up close.
So if you want to judge me just get up close to the curtains and you will see my hidden shame,
dirty curtain bottoms.
Every summer I say I am going to send them to the cleaners, but I just can’t bare to be without them
for a couple of days.
Or it could be that I have gotten use to not having people stare through our back doors at us while we sit
around in our underwear, Al Bundy style, watching trashy TV.
Another lesson, you can buy as many pretty things you want, but your roots always shine through.

As you can see that by buying pretty things from catalogs won’t make your life perfect, but they will give the illusion that you got it going on and isn’t that all that matters?  However, to keep up the charade you need to never invite people over and never, NEVER, open your mouth. I guess I failed to mention the illusion of perfection is lonely, boring and hard work, which is why we fail at it as much as we can.

I did find something that fits perfectly in our home.  I couldn’t believe it when SoHubby held it up for my approval.  And you won’t believe how much it cost:

This little gem sums up this house perfectly and anyone can get one at your local Dollar Store.

Read Full Post »

Curious George: LIVE!

Thanks to Megan at the Vee Corporation we were able to go see the Curious George stage show on Friday night.  The kids were excited from the mere mention of seeing Curious George live and in person, even if Amber said that characters in large costumes “freak her out”.  I didn’t really know what to expect.  We have watched Curious George many times on our PBS station and knew the crazy adventures that little monkey can get into, but I had no idea how that would translate into a stage show.  Well, there was no need for worry at all, because the show was better than the TV show and we all had a great time.

I have to admit I am not a big fan of Curious George.  Sure he is a cute little monkey, but boy he can cause his friend, The Man in the Yellow Hat, some troubles and worries.  As a parent, I feel his pain.  I wasn’t sure how I would be able to sit through a live stage show with 3 kids to tend to.  Again, no problems.  The show starts with music, dancing and acrobatics.  If it ended there we would have declared a great time.

The story was interesting for the kids and kept them wondering what was going to happen next.  Amber kept asking how was Curious George going to get to Italy, if he was going to win the Golden Meatball for Chef Pisghetti (a great name for the Meatball Chef considering that is what I call the pasta when the kids are little.) and would the rest of the cast find Curious George?  There were all the elements that keep kids entertained and glued to their seats, which is very important in a dark arena.

We were all amazed how the actor in the Curious George costume was able to move around with such ease.  There was no hindrance in his movements at all.  He moved like a monkey when needed, was able to jump on tables, swing from the rafters, dance and, the most amazing, balance on a globe.  It was all unexpected.  When Curious George stepped from the stage during the show to greet some of the guests in the Monkey seats, everyone was excited whether they got to high five Curious George or not.  Kids are easy that way.

One never knows what to expect when going to a “kid’s” show.  Will we be tortured with cutesy songs that we can’t get out of our heads for the next week?  Will the story be so dumb down that it will seem like an eternity before we, the parents, can make our get away?  The answers to these questions for the Curious George show was a big, NO!  The story was good for the kids and parents.   While, I may have seen what was coming for the story, I never knew what dance number or song would be up next.  And as for the dance numbers and songs, I would say they lived up to the billing of a Broadway style show.   Heck I say we start a whole new genre of Broadway for kids.  I know it was a very different experience for my kids to not just watch a screen with moving pictures, but to see live actors singing, dancing and acting right before their eyes.  Eat your heart out 3-D.  I was a bit worried that at the ripe old age of 8 yrs old, Amber would not be excited to Curious George, but since she has appeared in many school plays she was excited to see a show of this caliber.  If you didn’t know she is our resident drama queen.  She was so excited that she even told some of her friends, which I thought would never happen considering her friends were singing an Usher song without searching for words at a birthday party.  I thought for sure she would be embarrassed to admit she was going to see a Curious George show.  However, she is the one that brings me the Curious George books to read for bedtime.  That girl always with the pleasant surprises.  Just when I think she is all grown up, she shows me that she is still just a kid.

A good time was had by all and there is even more excitement for the upcoming Sesame Street LIVE: 123 Imagine! with Elmo and Friends at the New Orleans Arena, October 20-23, 2010.  Check back, tomorrow for information on how to win 4 free tickets to this show in the New Orleans area.

Disclaimer: I was given free tickets to the Curious George show for writing a post to introduce the discount code and for this review post.  All pictures were taken by me without the flash, because I did not want to be responsible for maiming an actor.

Yes, I realize that I haven’t posted in a long time.  If I can ever escape the confines of my Suburban and not be scheduled until my eyes pop out of my head, I will catch the blog up.  I have not forgotten about my blog, but have had to put it on the back burner a bit, because you know I have 3 kids, a husband, a house, a dog, etc. that all whine for my attention.  And for the record, all believe I am not giving them enough.  At the moment the kids win since they whine the loudest.  However, when I was offered a chance to offer a discount code and free tickets to these shows for NOLA parents I hopped on it, because many seem to be having a rough time these days and I hope to bring a little escape to something happier to them.   So please come back, tomorrow (yes, I promise come hell or high water there will be a post tomorrow), to enter to win the Sesame Street tickets.  Let’s face it your chances of winning are better than the Powerball and all you have to spend is a bit of time.

Read Full Post »

A Healthy Marriage?

I believe that everyone has their “THING”.  That one thing that they annoy everyone else with.  For example, there could be an inch and half of dust around my house, but if my floors are sparkling clean then all is right with the world.  The reason behind this is because I hate walking on floors in my bare feet and feeling dirt.  I don’t think one should wear shoes in the house.  You are at home; you should be relaxed and how do you relax if your shoes are on.  However, I am not so out of control that I tackle you when you enter my home and pry off your shoes.  My kids, on the other hand, are a different story. Sam may actually attack you and take your shoes off for you and I may or may not stop him. SoHubby’s Thing is the yard.  For whatever reason he goes bananas if the yard doesn’t look just so.  It doesn’t matter that the bushes in the front are overgrown or the garden on the side of the house is looking more like a wild forest, the lawn must be done just the way he envisions it.  The problem is no one (meaning me) understands the vision and I  like to make pretty designs in the high grass while riding at top speed on the Snapper.

Last weekend was a busy one for SoHubby.  He had a lot to do for work and the lawn begged for attention.  Besides, our neighbors were making us look bad by cutting the grass on a regular basis.  So he asked if I would cut the grass and he would do the clean up, like weed eating, edging, and blowing.  No problem, I often cut the grass to help cut the time it takes SoHubby to do it all on his own.  And one important note here is that we have a riding lawnmower, so cutting grass = fun without much effort.  My kind of fun.  The problem for SoHubby comes that I don’t make straight lines.  He has explained and explained but I am just not getting it.  So I end up making circles and, the worst offense, blowing the cut grass into the gardens.  Yeah, you know the ones that are so over grown that they smack me with each pass on the lawnmower.  It is so bad that I have to wear long sleeve shirts to prevent the cops from being called because my husband has given me 50 lashes…for…NOT CUTTING THE GRASS IN STRAIGHT LINES!

Of course, I am sensitive to all this and I show it by laughing and pointing to my ears, because I can’t hear what he is saying over the powerful motor of the Snapper.  If you passed our home on any given Saturday you may find SoHubby standing in the driveway waving his arms over his head and yelling like a crazed gorilla.  I, on the other hand, happily sit on top of the Snapper making circles in the lawn laughing.  It is our own couples therapy, passive aggressive helpfulness.  Look it up, I am sure you will find it in all the top rated marriage counseling books out there.  It is my little way of showing SoHubby how annoying it is to have someone “help” you with your chore but refuse to do it the way you do it, because we all know the right way is your way.  And, of course, he doesn’t know or realize that this is what is happening.

What is his crime that his punishment is circles in the lawn?  Walking on my floors.  Yup, that is his crime.  You can call it an over reaction, I call it not paying attention to “my feelings” or in sane English my odd hangups.  You see SoHubby, and now the kids, have a knack of walking on freshly washed floors with the filthiest filth on their shoes.  I guess it doesn’t help that I clean the floors everyday, so the odds of this happening are rather high, but I beg you not to let logic get in the way.  It will just mess up your mind and drive you crazy.  So the vicious cycle continues.  He walks, instead of hovering, on my clean floors and I make circles in the lawn, because it drives him crazy, makes me dizzy and it is hard to control the Snapper when you are up to speed 4, even though your husband has expressly told you not to go over speed 2.  Where is the fun in that?  I need more power!!  So SoHubby does his crazy dance in our driveway while I laugh on the lawnmower and I do the crazy dance in the house when he runs across my floor in his shoes with a big smile on his face.  It is the dance of our marriage.  Everyone should have one, just one word of advice, make it about the small things because when this is done with the big stuff things tend to implode.

Read Full Post »

Me + Baby + Movie Theater = NEVER AGAIN IN THIS LIFETIME!!

One thing you need to know about me, I love movies.  Not just movies at home, although I will take those in a pinch, but movies in the movie theater.  And not those movies “that you just have to see on the big screen”, but movies that I am actually interested in seeing.  Avatar, meh.  Hangover, HELL YA!  The raunchier, within the realm of the R rating, the better.  Once the kids got to an age where they could sit still for a full movie I was there.  And what better excuse to see the kids’ movies that I wanted in the theater without sunglasses and a wig.  I wouldn’t suggest the latter; you tend to draw suspicion.

I was brave when we took the kids to see The Princess and the Frog.  Evie was around 4 months…wait, no 5 months….wait, that can’t be right, oh hell I don’t remember.  She was somewhere around barely out of the infancy stage.  The point is I figured she would sleep or have a bottle or was she still on the boob at this point?  See how this third kid thing has messed with my memory.  I am sure when I am old (er) and gray (ier) and they ask when they did certain things it will have happen at the same time for all of them.  More efficient that way.  Anyway, I was right Evie slept and I was able to sit through the entire movie while judging those other parents with RUDE children making their noises, kicking the backs of seats and just generally being less perfect then my kids.  Oh how the smug has been slapped from my face.

I decided that this week the kids and I would see Despicable Me.  A cheery little story about an evil doctor, not to be confused with Dr. Evil, who adopts 3 little girls and….well, see the movie.  Everyone was excited.  So excited that any mention of NOT GOING to see the movie because of SOMEONE’s behavior sent the small ones into fits of crying and drama that rival their everyday performances.  I didn’t have to worry though, my perfect, sweet, cherubic face baby would not be the problem.  The little hellion known as Sam might cause some problems with his bladder the size of a pea, but not my third baby who learned to go with the flow.  She would just have a bottle and sleep.  Easy peasy, until you take into account, REALITY!

Everything was going well.  Evie sat on my lap smiling and babbling eating her baby popcorn (Cheerios) while we waited for the show to start.  I guarded the gallon sized Icee and barrel sized popcorn and reminded the other 2 THAT I WAS NOT GOING TO BE HAULING THEM UP AND DOWN THESE STAIRS FOR POTTY BREAKS!  Finally,  the movie starts.  I look over to grin at the kids, because HEY, THE MOVIE IS ABOUT TO START AREN’T YOU STUPIDLY EXCITED like your goofy mom, to discover that Sam has fallen asleep.  Oh no, buddy! I spent $32.  You are going to wake up and enjoy yourself, DAMMIT IT!  After a threat discussion of how we can just leave if he is going to sleep, because you can nap at home for free, we were back to enjoying the movie.  Then Evie started to squirm.  I readjusted.  She squirms again, getting just a little more pissed.  I bounce her.  Then the noise comes.  In my head I am saying, NO,NO,NO, I can’t be that PERSON.  NOT THAT PERSON. I quickly make her a bottle and we are back to perfect baby.  She even goes so far as to almost falling asleep.  This is perfect, I think, I am going to be able to sit back and enjoy the whole movie pinned under my 15 pound baby.  SUHWEET!!!  Then the rumblings of a baby that is convinced that whenever she sleeps we are throwing candy parties with ponies and rainbows begins.  Evie is not going to sleep no matter how tired she might be.

You might be thinking, “Hey, dumbass woman.  Why wouldn’t you just go to a showing that happened after the baby’s naptime?”  And I will respond with a thump to your forehead and tell you that when we are home Evie refuses second naps.  I tried to schedule my day so that she could take her morning nap and, at least, won’t be so tired that she started seeing unicorns dancing around.  But these little things called other children and Life got all up in my face and decided that Evie’s morning nap had to be cut short due the blood spewing from her older sister’s newly pierced ears, which called for a doctor’s appointment where the Dr. looked at her ears, gave me a script for some cream and sent us on our way.  Thanks, dude, we could have done that over the phone.  And then maybe you are wondering why not schedule the movie for another day.  Then I might tell you to mind your own damn business and get off my back.  My week fills up fast and this week got booked about 5 months ago without my knowledge.

The rest of the movie I spent bouncing Evie, changing her diaper, popping her binky in and out of her mouth, wondering if the binky would be “okay” if I stuck it back in her mouth after it fell she threw it behind my seat (a new little game she discovered), giving her another bottle, walking her up and down the outside aisle while wondering if some evil villain was ready to pounce on my other 2 kids, rinse, lather, repeat.  I gave up stuck the binky back in her mouth (Go ahead and give me crap for that. At this point, I was desperate and figured she was just like her brother.  The germs only make him stronger.)  Finally, the movie ends and we head for the hills, mainly because Sam hasn’t asked to go to the bathroom and I am sure he drank about 1/3 of a gallon sized Icee.  He was ready to burst and I just couldn’t deal with that at the moment.  Of course, you know how this story ends.  I barely put Evie in her carseat when the Sandman has taken her off to dreamland.  Yeah, Sandman needs to buy a freakin clue, already.  We drive home and I commence with hosing Evie down with Lysol.  Little buggar wouldn’t let me get in her mouth.  (And no, don’t be stupid, I didn’t hose her down with Lysol or spray her mouth.  I simply wanted to run a wet washcloth across her gums and gave her a bath.) I lay her in bed with the hopes that she sleeps until morning, because that is what I would do in her shoes.  At last, I feel that she will wake around 7/8pm, the other kids’ regular bedtime for the summer, and want to play when I have stuff that needs to be done.  So you can see why when there is even the slightest mention of a date night where I can eat a meal without a million people asking me questions, needing their noses or mouths wiped, and a movie where all I need to do is worry about my popcorn and drink and if the seat in front of me will be vacant, so I can have the full movie theater experience, my eyes roll back in my head and I start to shake like a junkie looking for her next fix.  Oh yeah, motherhood did this to me and one day I will get back at my kids, WHEN THEY HAVE KIDS OF THEIR OWN.  I am already plotting and planning my grandparent plan.  It will be nothing, but candy, soda, and high fructose corn sugar until those kids can propel themselves home where THEIR PARENTS CAN DEAL WITH THEM!  Everyone needs goals, right?

Read Full Post »

Mental Exhaustion

So Dr. Phil decided that it wasn’t enough for us to simply lose interest in him, but it would be so much better to want a country of moms to want to rip his ears off and shove them down his throat.  Or that is what his promo for a show that aired this week would have us thinking.  The show was how this big study came out that SAHMs have all this leisure time. A whole 30-40 hours a week.  We find out later that Dr. Phil really isn’t that stupid and it was some old guy, who obviously has too much time on his hands and decided to fill it up by having a bunch of hormonal, tired, beaten down women plotting his death.  Who knew a root canal was considered leisure time?  I guess an involuntary scrotum surgery is in that category, too.

Okay, after thinking on it a bit I think I might have about 30 hours a week where I am not called to duty.  I am still on call, but I am, at that moment, not in immediate demand.  That is subject to change without notice and without regard to what I might be doing at that exact moment.  *ahem*  Then it occurred to me what I might be doing during all that “leisure” time and the answer was simple, recovering.  It is not just phyisically exhausting dealing with children, especially small demanding children, but it is mentally exhausting.  I maybe sitting on the sofa in the same exaact spot I was when my husband left to go to work, but I am a bit lighter in the brain department.  Give me negotiating with terrorists anyday.  Trust me it would be a peaceful work environment than what I go through on a daily basis.  Here is one such exchange:

Sam: I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.

Me: I am going to be making dinner in a minute.  Just wait.

Sam: I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.

Me:  I am going to be making dinner in a minute.  Just wait.

Sam: I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.

Me:  I am going to be making dinner in a minute.  Just wait.

Sam:  I wait a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.

Me:  What kind of jelly do you want? Grape or apple?

Sam: I DON’T WANT THAT. I WANT A PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH!

Me:  What are you talking about?  You said you wanted a PEANUT BUTTER. AND. JELLY. SANDWICH.

Sam: I want that one. *points to the grape jar*

Me: You want triangles or rectangles?

Sam: I DON’T WANT THAT.  I WANT A GRILL CHEESE.

Me *through gritted teeth*: You asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  You are going to eat this peanut butter and jelly sandwich, so help me God.

Amber: I want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner.

I think at this point I seriously thought of impaling myself with the butter knife just to get a break from the insanity.  But wait there is more.  And it leaves you looking around wondering if you have some how gone back in time and got stuck in an Abbot and Costello comedy routine.

Sam: What is water made of?

Me: Water.

Sam: No, what is WATER made of?

Me: Water.

Sam: NO! WHAT! IS! WATER! MADE! OF!

Me: WA!TER!

Sam: WHATISWATERMADEOF?

Me:  I don’t know, ask your father.

My head has exploded and I am down for the count. I sit on the sofa drooling into a cup and brain leaking from my ears.

The many other things that test my willingness to stay and continue to raise these little torture devices in cute packages are the million times I have to tell people simple things that they should know by now: pick up your shoes, clean up your toys, don’t pick that, don’t sit on your baby sister, STOP TORTURING YOUR BROTHER FOR AMUSEMENT, don’t kick your baby sister, go wash your hands, DON’T TOUCH YOUR BABY SISTER WITH THOSE HANDS, flush the toilet, don’t wrestle the dog, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP LICKING EACH OTHER, when another person is naked leave the room, don’t go back into the room, don’t use the toilet in the presence of another person, DON’T PLAY IN THE TRASH, GROSS don’t eat that and finally, everyday ends with a hearty, GO TO BED I NEED MY SANITY BACK!  So while I may concede that I have some hours where I am not engaged in my “job”, I wouldn’t exactly call plotting how to escape and change my identity as leisure time, especially when your brain matter has been reduced to a nice soupy mass.  Instead of leaving I use the only tool in my arsenal, bedtime.  When times get rough, mom yells, BEDTIME!  It is the only thing between me and the nuthouse.

Read Full Post »

No Membership Required

Look who is enjoying not only being on the floor, but playing with the Gymini.
So I let her skip her nap, today.

Read Full Post »