Way Too Much Fun

This new business of mine is really just a rouse. It's really just a sneaky way to support my habit.

My bow-making habit.

We have to have a bow to perfectly match each outfit.

I'm sick. Sick, I tell ya.

But aren't these Curly Q's just the CUTEST??!!!

Never Say Never

My sister is ten years older than I and has four boys. She had her fourth and final boy six and a half years before I even had my first child.

She's way ahead of me in this motherhood game.

Once upon a time, in my other life (You know, the one where I wore makeup, had my nails done and went to the coffee house at 10 p.m. if the mood so struck me. That would be the "Pre-Baby Era".) I used to marvel and even wonder aloud how the heck my sister's kitchen floor got SO dirty.

I mean, my floor was never that dirty. Hubby, the cat and I kept our floor very clean. In fact, I cleaned it at least once a week. And I had a job! She was home all day, leading a life of leisure. Why couldn't she manage to sweep, for crying out loud?

Oooooo. I was a snooty little thang.

But alas, it has come full circle. My sister has the last laugh.

Behold, what I swept up in my kitchen floor today:

Bean Art

Today, during our "Table Time", Sister started digging through our craft drawer. After a few minutes, she brought out a paper bag and a bottle of glue. I was helping Brother with his assignment when I noticed. I didn't pay a lot of attention and went back to helping Brother while she busied herself, swirling gobs and gobs of glue onto the sack. She then got a plastic container full of beans and began placing the beans on the glue, one by one.

This was no haphazard, throw-the-beans-on-the-bag-any-old-way production. She was meticulous, making sure every dot of white glue was covered. She even went as far as to color a blue dot on some of the beans, just for an extra punch of color.

She spent an hour on this. No lie.

Fascinating.

There is a group of 3-4 freshman boys in my Psychology class. I say 3-4 because there are, in reality, 4 of them, but they are never all there at the same time. They are always good for a laugh.

Overheard today:

"Dude! I was talking to this girl the other day and she said she was going to have a different outfit for every day for a year!"
"Was she hot?"
"Naw, dude. She was fat."
(snicker, snicker)
"Man, an outfit every day...that's a lot of clothes! Dude, that's like...like...200 or somethin'...at least!"

Adventures In Grocery Shopping

They're conspiring against me, you know. My children are doing their darndest to see if they can drive me to an early grave.

According to some urban legend, there are children out there who are quiet, compliant and obedient when visiting the grocery store. It sounds crazy, I know, but I have actually seen a few. Otherwise, I wouldn't believe it, either.

Mine are not those children.

Each time we go to the store it's like a traveling three-ring circus has landed right in the middle of the frozen section, scattering innocent bystanders to and fro.

Yesterday was exceptionally fun-filled.

I go in with my list, trying hard to focus on it all so I don't forget anything, which I inevitably do. Immediately, before we barely make it through the front doors, Brother starts to ask for something.

This is becoming a frequent problem these days. I don't buy my children something everytime we go shopping. In fact, I NEVER buy them anything. I figure I'm buying food and toilet paper. What more could they ask for? The only time they get something extra is if they have their own money to spend.

So what's with all the asking? Brother asked for something three times before I even got anything in the shopping cart. Maybe he thinks his real mom has been abducted by aliens and I am the android, fill-in mom who doesn't know the rules.

And what is it about the store that makes them want to run? Is it the wide open aisles? Is it all the sugary snacks lining the shelves, seeping into their skin by osmosis? Is it the fluorescent lighting making their little brains short out and go haywire?

And the touching. They MUST touch everything. I know one day it will be the poor, helpless jar of spaghetti sauce or mayonaisse that will pay the price.

While passing by the soda aisle, I remembered the family gathering on Sunday for my dad's birthday. I called Mom to see what I needed to bring so I could pick it up while I was there and not have to make yet another death-defying trip to the store.

As you know, children have a sixth sense - a built in radar - that alerts them to Mom being on the phone and properly distracted. Prime time for mischief.

So the Not-So-Well-Trained Monkey Act begins. Baby, who has been trying to stand in the shopping cart seat every thirty seconds, has now resorted to slapping my chest and laughing. Brother is trying to pick Sister up by the neck, which elicits ear-piercing, window shattering squeals from her, and loud, obnoxious belly laughs from him.

While on the phone, trying to gather useful information, I periodically say, "Stop!" or "Sssshhhh!", even using sheer, brute force at times to try and control the chaos. But this only makes them more manic and hysterical.

We are attracting "looks" from other shoppers.

I finally tell my mother that I need to go and manage my children, who are behaving like hooligans. "Give my babies a hug!" she says sweetly. "What they need is a kick in the pants!" I growl.

Brother finds this extrememly funny and decides to turn the tables. What does he do?

He kicks ME in the pants.

And my protests only egg him on. Encouraged by this, Sister joins in. And Baby, always the copycat, begins her abuse of Mommy again by slapping my chest and laughing.

I look like a woman who has dropped a bag of marbles and is scurrying around trying to gather them up.

Sigh.

Who's the trained monkey here?

So, I will never, ever, EVER take my children to the store again. Even if all we have to eat is raisins and chick peas.

I would rather starve.

Me? Serious?

Interesting.

On my last post someone called surfingmama left an interesting little invitation. Here is what it said:

Hi there!We would like to invite you to showcase your blog articles to millions of internet-surfing mums through the Surfingmama Blog Carnival. Make a difference for mums all over the world. Surfingmama focuses only on stuff that matters. For mums. Submit to us practical, useful & informative articles that mums need to make informed choices. Topics include childcare, preschool, child-education, child-safety, pregnancy, child-health, special-needs, breastfeeding, mothers-health, childbirth, getting-pregnant, and etc.

I'm flattered and all...really. But I don't think this person has actually read my blog. How do I know this?

"...practical, useful and informative articles that mums need to make informed choices."

First off, they used the word "mum". That isn't at all relative as to whether or not they have read my blog, but I just thought it was funny. It makes me think of SuperNanny.

Supermom vs. SuperNanny. Hmmmmm...

And secondly...

Hel-loo? Name one post I have written that was practical, useful and/or informative.

Go on. Name one.

See what I mean?

How about these for articles?

1. How To Shine Your Floors While Throwing A Temper Tantrum
2. Just Say "No" To Exercise
3. What To Say To Telemarketers
4. Showering: Luxury or Neccessity?
5. How To Put A Funny Spin On Your Child's Sociopathic Tendancies
6. Paint Your Living Room In Six Short Months!
7. Schizophrenia: You're Never Alone
8. Decorating Tips Every Mom Should Know
9. Finding The Best Dress For Shape...At Bass Pro Shop
10. How To Save Money On Diapers

Now, if they need something whiney, sarcastic or mean, I'm the woman for them.

Insanity

My mental health has been called into question on more than one occassion.

I question it myself daily.

But upon hearing the news of my new business venture, I believe people have deemed me as certifiably insane. The reaction is the same.

A quiet, speechless look of shock.

When they finally regain their faculties, their reaction is a variation on the following:

"So, you have three kids, homeschool, started back to college at a full 12 hours, AND you started a new business? ARE YOU CRAZY??!!!"

The answer would be, Yes. Indeed, I am.

To the average, logical, prudent person of normal common sense, this would be the behavior of a crazy person. One lacking in judgement and smart decision making skills. One who is on a one-way, crash course, doomed to run head on into Failure.

And if you had asked me to do all these things a year ago, I would have shook with fear and replied there is no way I could possibly do it all.

But I'm doing it.

Hubby told me it would make me better. He said I would be a better mother and a better teacher. And I couldn't see it. How could all that juggling possibly make me BETTER?.

I'll tell you.

Because I am away from my children for an entire day out of the week, I appreciate them so much more. I can be more patient and giving. Because I am given the opportunity to be out in the big, wide world that before was only am image on the TV screen, I am rediscovering who I am in it and how that relates to everyone else around me. I am given the opportunity to learn how to learn, which in turn, opens my eyes to my own little pupils at home and what they are facing in their education. Because I am pursuing the creativity that drives me and using it to better my situation. I have a purpose...more than one. I have found the freedom to give to myself, which makes it easier to give of myself, and the gift of that becomes sweeter. I'm remembering what it is like to have goals and dreams.

And I am not stressed.

In fact, I am happier because of it all.

Is my house clean?

Well...no.

But that is where the entire family becomes enriched by this experience. Hubby and the kids are learning to pitch in.

Groundbreaking, I know.

I dare say, our entire family is better for this wild ride.

Whodathunkit?

I guess Hubby was right.

Don't tell him I said that.

Obsession

Sigh.

It really is so very hard to be a good student and read about Government when you have all this delicious ribbon begging for you to make it into bows.

I think it's official. I am seriously obsessed.

Housekeeping Tip

For a nice, "just waxed" shine on your wooden floors, try a coat of Dimetapp Cold and Allergy. As an added bonus, the grape flavor gives your home a delightful, fruity smell.

How would I know this?

It all began a few days ago, after the beautiful autumn weather settled in and brought with it cool breezes, falling leaves...

...and allergies.

All of my children have seasonal allergies, but Brother and Baby have it the worst. Brother takes Claratin, so his have been somewhat tempered. Baby has been miserable. She's had a cough and hasn't been able to breathe well, which means she doesn't sleep well, which means I don't sleep well.

And that is a problem.

I hate having to give my children medicine and will wait as long as I possibly can. With Baby, I've tried to keep the Dimetapp to naptime and bedtime.

But it hasn't been enough.

I've had to up the dosage to every 4-6 hours. Problem is, I didn't consult her before I began this process, and she is very unhappy about the decision. In order to convince me of her extreme displeasure, she has taken to screaming, flailing, hitting, clenching her mouth closed, spitting out what little gets in her mouth and just generally refusing to take part in the medication ritual.

Beautiful, tender moments to cherish forever and always.

So around midnight last night, after two hours of her tossing, turning, snorting and coughing, I decided I might as well wrassle her down and try to get a little something in her. I was exhausted after two days of not getting much sleep and in no mood for games.

I take her to the kitchen, where I have the plastic, measuring spoon thingie and sit her down in a chair. She cries while I get the Dimetapp and pour it into the spoon. Thinking perhaps she might be tired and disoriented enough to actually cooperate, I come at her smiling, offering the sticky, grape liquid as though it were mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.

Apparently I was the one who was disoriented.

She immediately turns her head and lets out a shriek of disapproval.

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

I take her in my arms and put the wrestling hold on her, pinning her hands down and positioning her head between my arm and shoulder.

Oh, but she's obstinate.

She spits it out, letting it run down her neck and into her hair. She got some, but I don't know how much. She needs more, but I don't know how much more.

I'm tired.

I'm sick of fighting her.

I'm frustrated with the whole thing.

I just want to sleep.

So, what do I do?

The thing most helpful to the situation.

The mature thing.

I do what any rational, thoughtful parent would do.

I throw things.

I first throw the plastic spoon against the wall. But it was too light. It didn't make a nice "thud". So I chuck the bottle of Dimetapp. It bounces off the wall and into the floor.

Not good enough.

I pick it up and throw it again.

This time it makes a great thud. So great it pops the lid off the childproof bottle and the bottle goes rolling into the living room. All the way across the room to the front door, leaving a sweet, purple trail.

After bathing Baby and mopping the floor, we got to bed around 1:00 a.m., where we both slept most soundly.

Weird. My floor is shiny.

Drum Roll, Please...

TA-DA!!!! The moment you've all been waiting for has arrived!

Go to www.punkinheadhairwear.com to see my bow site.

My hands are shaking as I type this. I'm excited...and nervous. Mostly excited. But still nervous. What if I can't do this? What if it's too much? What it turns into a disaster? What if I completely lose my mind and became a screaming, raving lunatic?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Well, it's too late for that. I am a screaming, raving lunatic.

And thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to Jules, from Everyday Mommy for all of her help with this. I couldn't have done it without you, girl!!

Priorities

Monday was my day at school. That means Hubby got to play Desperate Housewife. I have to say, thus far he has really done a great job.

I mean, he doesn't do things MY way, but I hear there's more than one way to skin a cat.

Or so I've heard.

When I called him Monday afternoon to check in, he gave me a status report.

"I've done nothing today," he said.

"Not a productive day, huh?"

"No, I mean NOTHING."

I figured he was being general. All us housewives do that. We say we've done NOTHING, but that generally means instead of doing dishes, laundry, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, grocery shopping, rearranging furniture, cleaning out closets, saving the planet and feeding the children, we have only managed to wash dishes, do laundry, dust, vacuum, clean the bathroom and feed the children.

But no, he wasn't being general. He was being literal.

I arrived home to find things just the way I left them...only a little worse.

Dirty dishes. Dirty clothes. Unmade beds.

But the real kicker...the straw that broke the camel's back...the most heinous of all his domestic crimes...

He took my girls out in public without (GASP!)...

BOWS.

That's right, friends. My girls went out with naked heads.

He said he didn't feel well. OBVIOUSLY. I mean, I know this is true, because who, in their right mind, would do that to two innocent children.

Speaking of bows, isn't that picture up above absolutely beautiful? My friend took a bunch of them for my web site and did a spectacular job. All the pictures are so, so sweet. (Click the link and go check out her new site! If you see pictures of an adorable blonde girl with huge bows, that is Sister.) I am hoping to have everything finished and open to the public by this weekend. I will be definitely doing a post to let everyone know. So be watching!!!

I remember that morning, September 11, 2001. Brother was but a toddler, barely a year and a half. We got up and I began to make breakfast for us. Brother usually liked to watch Calliou, but for some reason, wasn't interested that morning. I flipped over to the news to see the first tower smoking while Charlie Gibson described what had happened. Just moments later, before I could even turn away, the second plane hit.

Tonight I watched a documentary about September 11 and the NYFD. I saw footage from a man in the midst of it all when the towers collapsed. I saw a storm of dust and debris and paper. Papers blew up against the lens of his video camera and stuck, flapping in the aftermath. Papers that had been sitting on desks not long before. Papers that belonged somewhere and had seemed so very important to the comings and goings of the day.

Story after story of brave men who plunged deep into the throes of danger. Men who didn't come out. One firefighter said, "You could have told us it was a nuclear bomb that went off. We still would have gone in." They went back in, day after day, sacrificing health, safety and sanity all in very dim hopes of finding someone...anyone.

To those men and their families, I salute you.

We will never forget.

Bye Bye Baby

There it is. My baby things.

The swing.
The exersaucer.
The bottles.
The sleepers.
The teethers and wrist rattles.

Save the crib, that's it.

I've sold them. For $103.

Seems so small compared to all the happiness I've had using them.

I must admit. This was not an easy step to take. It's like I'm admitting I won't be having any more babies. I can think it. I can agree when my husband says "no more", but actually coming out and doing something as drastic as selling my baby items? That means I have to commit to it.
I love babies.

But that's it for me. And I'm sad.

Help me out, moms. Those of you whose babies aren't babies anymore, how did you come to terms with it? How did you close the door?

What To Wear

I am a simple person. There's a lot I don't get. Like football, sushi, leaf blowers, thong underwear and people who don't like chocolate. Or the women at the birthday party who smile and sweetly refuse cake and ice cream. Who doesn't want cake and ice cream?!

I just don't get that.

Tonight while watching MTV's Fashion Rocks, I realize I can add one more to that list: Fashion. I must be way outta the loop because I just don't get why people think this kind of stuff is cool.

Tell me, would you wear this?







And can someone tell me, what happened to her neck?











This looks like she has a lobster claw on her head. But at least this one might actually be useful at Halloween.

"Help me! I'm being held hostage by the draperies!"

Betty Boop turns Dominatrix. Scary!

Of Pee and Such

My bathroom smells like pee.

On more than one occasion, I have considered making this the title of my blog, because it seems to be a reccuring theme in my life.

But yesterday, the pee smell was taken to a whole new level.

We have three kids that live within one or two houses of us here in our neighborhood. I have, in the past, expressed my concerns of letting Brother play with these children. But I have recently lifted my restrictions somewhat and allow him to play with them as long as I can see them and have some supervision. One of the boys, we'll call him Jack, is 10, maybe 11 years old. He has some developmental and learning disabilities, so I try to be especially careful. Not that I think he is a bad kid, but he is nearing adolescence and I'm just not 100% certain my children should be left alone with him.

Yesterday, about five minutes after arriving home from our short weekend trip to see inlaws, the kids knocked on our door, asking for Brother to come out.

The weather was gorgeous. Brother had been with his family all weekend. He was itching to play boy games. So I let him go out and play. I had the windows open. I could hear and see what was going on.

They played tag and a really great game of hide and seek. Brother and another boy actually hid in our sandbox, quietly hiding under the lid. Before long, Jack knocked at the door asking to use the restroom.

I hesitated.

"Uh, sure. Come on in."

He was in there only a few minutes. I never heard "tinkle tunes". I never heard the toilet flush. I never heard the water run.

A bit disconcerting.

He came out, smiling sheepishly, with a bright, wet spot on the front of his red shorts, and went back outside.

Uh-oh.

"I think Jack had an accident," I said to my husband, as soon as the boy was out of earshot.

"YOU LET HIM USE OUR BATHROOM??!!!"

If I have concerns about Jack, Hubby has deep-seated issues that go way beyond unnerving. He feels Jack's entire family is disturbed and needs psychiatric help.

Hubby looks into the bathroom and notices that Jack did not even remove Sister's padded Blue's Clues potty ring that sits on the toilet seat. "AW, MAN!!" is his response. We also see a towel on the floor.

And a very strong urine odor, wafting from the doorway.

I go in to inspect the damage.

Turns out, poor Jack made a puddle in the floor, which he tried to cover up with the towel. Sister's potty ring was also hit.

I cleaned up the potty ring and mopped the floor, certain that would rectify the situation.

But there was more.

About 11:00 last night, while taking a break from homework, I noticed the bathroom still smelled. I mean, REALLY smelled. Just in front of the toilet, there is still, what looks like, a dried puddle.

How did I miss that?!

So I break out the bathroom cleaner, spraying the toilet and the floor surrounding it and I scrub both, desperate to rid my house of the stench.

This morning...

...it still stinks.

I follow my nose aorund the bathroom only to find that Jack's aim is far reaching. It would appear he sprayed the wall and the vanity next to the toilet.

You know, it's one thing to clean up after your own kids. But someone else's?

I'm off to Wal-Mart to clear their shelf of all things Clorox and see if I can find a HASMAT suit.

In the meantime, I think I'll stop off at the truckstop and use their restroom. It smells better.

I'm Still Here!!

Wow! Things are hopping around here. But I'm still alive and kicking, in case you were wondering.

Great news:
My bow site is really taking shape! Jules from Everyday Mommy has created this beautiful design for me and is helping me get it all put together. I'm dying to show you what an incredible job she's done, but I'm going to make you wait until it's all finished and ready to take orders.

I'm such a meanie.

Between that and my secret life as a student, as well as my day job (that "mom" thing), I'm finding it hard to squeeze in my blog time. Let's hope I find the balance somewhere.

Have a great holiday weekend! I'll be back next week.