Wednesday, March 25, 2009

At least he can blame it on sleepwalking

Looks like I'm not the only one getting lost in our house. Last night when I was heading upstairs to go to bed, I heard the laundry room door close. So I joked to Jack that Molly needed some privacy, so she closed the door (not all the way). She's weird like that, so I wasn't surprised at all.

When I got upstairs, I saw that the light in the laundry room was on and went to turn it off. What did I find? W, with his shorts down and about to pee in Molly's water. I got there in the nick of time and gently steered him to the bathroom. The only thing I thought I had to worry about when it came to W's nighttime bathroom visits was whether or not he'd put the seat up. Obviously I have to re-evaluate.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Happy Birthday, Cheeks

Dear Cheeks,

Today you turn seven years old.

If there is one thing that daddy and I have learned about you in the past seven years, it is that you do things your way. From the moment I was pregnant with you, we have not had a minute of peace. You made your existence known from the womb. I had morning sickness for my whole pregnancy with you. I went into labor at 1am on March 19, 2002.

I told daddy that we should have known right weren't going to be easy. That turned out to be an understatement.

We spent five days in the hospital after you were born b/c of your heart. If I would have known who you were going to turn out to be, I would have said that you did it on purpose to have all of our attention to yourself.

Raising you has been a rollercoaster ride. There is no other person in the world that can make me as mad as you do. There is no other person in the world who can make me laugh as much as you do. So while life hasn't been peaceful since you were born, it has still been wonderful. You bring joy to our lives, Cheeks. Even though life is a constant struggle since you've been born, we wouldn't change anything about you.

I hope your day lives up to your expectations. I have never seen anyone as happy as you were this morning when I said "Happy Birthday". It's times like these that make everything we've gone through with you worth it. Your smile and laugh is infectious. I think even W would agree.

Happy seventh birthday, Cheeks. I love you.


P.S. Can you believe that daddy actually reminded me not to forget your birthday before he left this morning??

Saturday, March 14, 2009

PITA - It's a Type of Flatbread, I Swear!

Until September when I got laid off, I worked for a mortgage broker as a loan processor. Which basically means I processed the paperwork to find out if potential homeowners qualified for a mortgage. As we often say, "When you're dealing with people's money, you're dealing with their emotions." Which is basically a really nice way of saying people are assholes when it comes to signing their life away for 30+ years. Believe me, I understand. That's a huge commitment. Understanding, however, does not mean it didn't piss me off when clients would ride my ass or be rude to me just because they were stressed out.

As a way to combat our frustration, we would occasionally threaten to charge a PITA fee to the worst offenders. We wouldn't have actually done this except that one time..or ten, of course, since it's completely unethical, but the idea of it made us feel much better.

PITA = Pain In The Ass

Since then, I often use the word PITA in that context. "Running all these errands is a PITA.", "MM is being a PITA.", etc. I think it's a nice alternative to actually saying the curse word. Not that I have a problem saying Ass or anything, but I can't exactly say naughty words in front of my children, right? Perfect solution.

Until the other day. Because that's when I broke the cardinal rule of parenthood and called my son a PITA. In my defense, he was being one.

He had a field trip on Thursday and was getting his stuff ready the night before. Because he was so excited, he was almost literally bouncing off the walls. He was running around the house, jumping on the furniture, laughing hysterically over nothing and generally driving me batshit crazy.

Around 8:30 (his bedtime is 9) I asked him if he had his clothes set out and his lunch made. Naturally he did not. I told him to get started and I'd be along to help him shortly. After much more running around, jumping and being a general PAIN IN MY ASS he finally brought me his clothes for the next day. A pair of jeans that he grew out of months ago and a tank top I think he wore when he was 5 (as an aside: I have no idea where he finds these too small clothes. Every few months I go through their clothes and get rid of the ones that no longer fit. And yet inevitably he shows up with something that's so small a toddler could wear it. WTF?) and socks with holes in them. Argh.

I sent him back to get new clothes and he came back with two t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Why two t-shirts? Because I told him he needed to layer. *headdesk* At this point I was beyond frustrated and finally said, "Dude, you're a total PITA, did you know that?"


He says, "Mom, what's a PITA?" and I say, without missing a beat, "It's a type of bread" and he gets all skeptical and says, "No seriously, what is it."

Crap, I'm a horrible mother.

I explained that a PITA is a type of flatbread and that it's actually what MM uses when he makes mini-pizzas (another aside: Which is actually something he saw on the Rachel Ray show and is really great for a quick meal. The kids love them and they're easy to make.). I was rather proud of myself for coming up with such a wonderful response until he said, "Mom, that's not what you meant!" My child is not as dumb as I expect him to be. I said, "Really, I just meant that you're stuffed full of it!" and he gave me that look like, "yeah right".

So I did what any good, self-respecting mother would do. I said, "No really, ask MM" and then fled the room.

Did you hear that? That was the sound of my Mother of the Year nomination being flushed down the toilet.


Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I first saw this over at Rosie's, then Lori did it with her boys, then Tracy with her girls. I decided to ask my children, too.

1. What is something your mom always says to you?
TG – Go to bed
LM– Go to bed. Get out of bed. Bye. Love you. See you tonight. See you in the morning.
(LM and I have a ritual we say every night at bed and every morning when he leaves for school. I say, "Goodnight. Love you. See you in the morning"and then he says it back to me. We've done this since he was a toddler. If I don't say it, he kind of freaks out. It's cute. I hope we can do it forever - though I seriously doubt it.)

2. What makes your mom happy?
TG – When I get my homework done on time without anyone asking me
LM – Books and the computer

3. What makes your mom sad?
TG – When I get in trouble at school
LM – When MM is being a jerkyface (heh)

4. How does your mom make you laugh?
TG – By smiling (aww)
LM – By tickling me.

5. What was your mom like as a child?
TG – Hard to say, I wasn't around for that
LM – How are we supposed to know that? I'd guess crazy.

6. How old is your mom?
TG – 29 ...she thinks she's 25, though (I said I stopped celebrating at 25, not that I think I'm 25)
LM – 29

7. How tall is your mom?
TG – 5'2"
LM – 5'2" (I'm actually 5'3", but close enough)

8. What is her favorite thing to do?
TG – Read
LM – Read

9. What does your mom do when you’re not around?
TG – Read, Play the Wii, Clean house
LM – Read, and play games on the computer and the Wii, and eat ice cream.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for?
TG – Publishing a book, considering the fact that you already edit plenty
LM – Publishing books
(Which is very funny, since I have no desire to publish a book. Also, I think TG meant "reviewing" when she said editing. Same difference? :P )

11. What is your mom really good at?
TG – Mopping the floors
LM - Reading books

12. What is your mom not very good at?
TG – Keeping her cool when MM says something stupid
LM – Math
(Right after I asked TG this, MM yelled at me from the living room so I yelled back. I wonder if that influenced her answer?)

13. What does your mom do for her job?
TG – Cleans the house, stays at home
LM – Nothing. Sit at home and read, play on the computer and the Wii. And ask me questions. (Once again, I sense MM in this)

14. What is your mom’s favorite food?
TG – I'm not sure. I'm seriously not sure what my own mom's favorite food is.
LM – Gumbo (I made this for dinner the other night much to the chagrin of he and MM. My favorite food is actually Peanut Butter.)

15. What makes you proud of your mom?
TG – That she's a good mom, period. I was going to list stuff, but you're really just a good mom. (awwww!)
LM – Doing nothing at home. Because you're lazy. I like lazy mother's. (much giggling ensued...brat)

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be?
TG – Donald Duck. *pause* I was debating between Donald Duck and Eyeore. (uh..ok)
LM - Truffles. Because she's crazy and scary and mad. (According to the website: "Mung Daal's wife, Truffles, likes to be the boss and has a very competitive streak. While Mung Daal handles the cooking, Truffles takes care of everything else." Not sure how I feel about that. Hmm...)

17.What do you and your mom do together?
TG – We get our nails done and we sit around a lot.
LM – Sit around and watch t.v.
(Makes me sound really lazy, doesn't it?)

18. How are you and your mom the same?
TG – We both look alike. We're both short. We both love to read. We both love boys that can turn different shades of red. (I need to take a break here to talk about this boy she "loves". Brb)
LM – We like watching t.v., we like playing on the computer and Wii, we like going to bed and.....that's it. Oh and we like doggies.

19. How are you and your mom different?
TG – Our sense of style. You're always like,"NO! Go back and change".
LM – She likes reading books and her eBook reader and blogging and publishing books. (Doesn't know me at all, does he?)

20. How do you know your mom loves you?
TG – Cause she says it lots.
LM – Because she says it to me every night and morning. And she shows it by hugging me.

21. Where is your mom’s favorite place to go?
TG – Borders
LM – The book store.
(oh, so true.)

Friday, March 6, 2009

The "P" Word

Last night I made Tamale Pie for dinner. It's basically a casserole made with ingredients similar to those in regular tamales. As we were sitting around the table eating, the following conversation ensued.

Little Man, who is the pickiest eater ever says, "Mom, why did you put bacon in this?"
Me: Because the recipe called for it. It gives it extra flavor.
LM: Oh.
The Girl says: LM doesn't like bacon.
MM rolls his eyes and says, "Do you like sausage?"
LM: Yes.
MM and I look at each other, b/c hello, it all comes from the same place.
LM, misunderstanding our exchange says, "Not that kind of sausage!"
LM and TG bust up laughing.

Whoa. Wait a minute. What? Little Man is 9. What kind of sausage would a 9 year old be talking about?

MM says, "What does that mean? What's so funny?"
TG: LM has been hanging out with Kyle too much.
MM: I asked LM what that meant, not you. Let him answer.

Little Man is giggling so hard now he can't breathe and The Girl joins him.

Finally LM mumbles something that sound suspiciously like "wee wee sausage" and MM and I stare at each other for a minute. I raise an eyebrow in a "did he really say what I think he said" kind of way and MM shrugs. We both turn back to Little Man and demand he repeat himself. After several more minutes of giggling...

MM: Little Man, what kind of sausage were you referring to?
LM: Wee Wee Sausage.
MM: Wee Wee Sausage? You mean like Lil' Smokies?
LM shakes his head: No, MM, not like that.
MM: Well, those are the only Wee Wee Sausages I know of. Oh, did you mean PENIS?
The Girl: OMG! Stop! *she covers her ears* Don't say it again!
MM: Why? That's what it's called. That's the clinical term for it. Check your science book.
TG: OMG!!! They don't have that in my science book. They have things like Earthquakes and stuff.
Me: Babe, I think they might be a bit young to have that in their science books.
MM: Oh. Well eventually TG, you'll have Penis' in your science book.
TG: OMG! Stop! Mom, can I leave the table? Please?!?
MM: Why do you want to leave the table?
MM to LM: So, did you mean Lil' Smokies or Penis'?

At that point The Girl got up and hid and in the pantry. 5 seconds later when MM said "Penis" again, Little Man joined her.

You know what I wanna know? Who the hell is Kyle and what has he been teaching my child?

Thursday, March 5, 2009


As the kids were walking out this morning.....

The Girl: Bye Mom. Love you.
Little Man: Bye Mom. Love you. Have a good day at work.
Me: Bye kids. Love you.
LM: Er, well, you don't go to work.
TG: Crap, I forgot something in my room.
Me: TG, you aren't bringing Eclipse to school.
TG: Ugh.
LM: Bye. Have a good day at work.
The Girl almost drops her backpack
TG: That would have been bad.
LM: Why do I keep saying "have a good day at work"? She doesn't go to work.
TG: LM, her job is to stay home and clean the house. This is her work.
The door closes behind them.

Kids. Why do I get the feeling they heard that particular line from MM?

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

No More Mom to the Rescue

I'm trying to figure out WTF happened at my children's school recently to allow them unlimited access to the phone. I'm not joking when I say unlimited, either. My children are 12 and (almost) 10. They do not have cell phones. They aren't even in the realm of possibly getting a cell phone at this point. I think it's ridiculous that 90% of the 6th grade already have cell phones.

But that's a rant for another day.

The point here is that they don't have cell phones and yet I received 7 phone calls from them yesterday. Yes, 7. 3 times The Girl called begging, begging, me to bring her Eclipse by Stephanie Meyer (the book she's currently reading), despite the fact that she was banned from taking it to school because she wasn't paying attention in class (I made her leave it at home, just so you know. The school didn't ban it..).

Then she called in the afternoon (I was at the doctor) and left a message on my cell phone, "Uh, hey mom, it's me, your daughter, The Girl" in case I didn't know that she, The Girl, was, in fact, my daughter?, "Uh, well..just listen to the message on the answering machine at home before 3:10, ok?" This message was left at 3:05. While I was across town. *headdesk* The reason for the message? She needed me to sign her release form allowing her to stay after school on Tuesday's for play practice. Something she neglected to tell me about.

Little Man also called twice to tell me he didn't have choir practice (he NEVER has choir on Tuesdays. Never. EVER.) and then to let me know he wanted to sign up for track. Track starts in 3 weeks and the sign-up sheets haven't even been sent home yet. W.T.F.

This morning The Girl called me because she forgot her binder at home. Now, for those of you not in the know, The Girl has major homework issues. Every Monday she brings me a progress report from the week before. If it's noted that she didn't turn in her homework, she's grounded to her room until she brings me a clean progress report. She was once grounded - TO HER ROOM - for 4 consecutive weeks for not turning in her homework

I feel that responsibility is just as important as actually doing the work, so her telling me she forgot her homework at home isn't a good enough excuse to get her out of being grounded. I.e, just because she left her binder at home doesn't mean she gets a pass. Actually, IMO, it's worse, because she's supposed to put her binder in her backpack and place her backpack by the front door every night after she does her homework.

Anyway, she calls me this morning and begs me to bring her binder in before 11 so she can turn her homework in. Last week I got called to the school 4 different times between her and Little Man because they kept forgetting things, needing things, etc. *sigh*

So far I've been rescuing them, but after today I plan to have a sitdown with them to explain that just because I'm home during the day now does not make me their personal assistant. If they forget things, too bad for them. And no more 50 phone calls a day about random things. Sheesh.

No more Mom to the Rescue!

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