To curse or not to curse. Or cuss.

Sadly, after a year in second grade and sharing the bus with hoodlums fifth graders (and perhaps a slip up here and there from his parents), my son now REALLY knows ALL (or at least MOST) of the words. Addison is still hung up on stupid being the worst word of all (right next to hate) and I REALLY want to keep it like that. i think we all know that by the end of kindergarten she will be cussing like a sailor, but a mother can dream, can't she? http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/to-curse-or-not-to-curse.html

I WISH I could say that this has gotten better...

http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/so-today-it-was-braydens-turn.html

GRRRRR...MORNINGS (again)!

I am so pleased to see how much things have improved since this post!
http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/thing-is-mornings-around-here.html

I SWEAR I LOVE MY CHILDREN--MORE THAN BLOGGING!

It has come to my attention (AGAIN) that people are going to think that I do not love my children (see http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-love-my-children.html). Actually, the exact words were, "People must think that you HATE your children." I DO NOT HATE MY CHILDREN. EVER. Even when I mumble, ":I HATE them" under my breath when they all attack me at one time in the middle of the night. Even THEN I do not hate them. I ALWAYS love them. Always. I don't always LIKE them--I have to be honest. I don't always run around with a cheesy grin on my face singing about how blessed I am to have them in my life, but those who point out the whole "People must think you hate your children..." did not do that either. Some do--that is another approach, but I cannot pretend to be happy with something when I am not. I refuse to pretend that my child is wonderful if he is beating up your child (or anyone really) and I REALLY cannot pretend that YOUR child is wonderful if he is beating up mine (or anyone again).  At least I'm fair about it--right?

I KNOW I am blessed. I have three GORGEOUS and BRILLIANT children--and I am not even being biased. Have you SEEN them? They are RIDICULOUSLY cute and they are HORRIBLE for pictures (anyone who has tried to get them to sit still for a photo knows that I am not being hyeperbolic (that's right--HYPERBOLIC) when I say it. In fact, they go OUT OF THEIR WAY to be difficult when getting photographed. That's why most of my good photos of them are not posed (I think candid photos are the best anyway, but that's the Herff-Jones yearbook training in me I guess...). Point? Well, if they look that good when they are TRYING to look bad, IMAGINE how cute they REALLY are. Add to that their personalities and your heart just melts. Until it turns cold with rage over the fact that the oldest pushes the middle one down and spits in her face like the biggest bully you have ever witnessed in your life. Or when the middle one gets in the little one's face and tells her she should sleep with one eye open. Or when the youngest says, "I can do anyfing because I am cute and EVEWREYONE ywuffvs me--yrwight, Mama?" Okay--that last one may not fill your heart with cold rage (or any kind of rage for that matter), but it DOES make me question my actions as a parent. We were so worried about building self-esteem in our children, we forgot about humility. Oops.

I spend my time these days replaying EVERY event in my brain to see where I am going wrong. A good teacher will make time at the end of a day to reflect on the good things and the bad so that the same mistakes aren't repeated and so that the good things ARE [repeated]. Reflection is key in every avenue of life. Wouldn't things be so much easier if EVERYONE sat down at the end of the day to see what needs to be fixed and what should stay the same? The problem is, if you are the only one reflecting and changing, things will not get better and you will burn out quickly. Welcome to MY life.

Here's the problem. We have a home full of leaders. Not just leaders--DICTATORS. Everyone seems to know everything about--well, EVERYTHING. The only one who claims to know nothing is me and that is deemed weak by Stalin, Mussolini, Hitler and Napoleon. The educator in me prides herself on not knowing everything and admitting when she is wrong. The other four members of my family pride themselves on never being wrong and if they sense that they COULD BE wrong, they modify the problem so that they are right. I can't get upset with the little people--they come by it naturally.  They are like vultures--they sniff out weakness and set out to destroy it. Where I think that admitting to being wrong is a strength, the rest of them find it weak. Twice in my ten years of teaching this same thing happened to me and the result was unimpressive. The first time was during my first year of teaching high school. I'm just realizing now that it was teaching seniors and my second experience was teaching seniors as well. I've thought about this before and attributed the behavior to gifted students, but now that I am REALLY thinking about it, the problem was that they were SENIORS.

I remember the only time I "knew" everything was when I was eighteen. I was after all a SENIOR and I was HORRIBLE. My two difficult teaching years I was teaching seniors and admitted to them that I did not know everything--or even MOST things. They chewed me up and spit me out. They of course knew everything and shouldn't I? I was after all IN CHARGE, right? This is how my husband and son view things--like they are seniors in high school. You must know ALL, sniff out weakness and destroy it.  NEVER admit to being wrong. Ever. Never allow someone to show you how to do something--that is just as bad as admitting you don't know. Fake it and blame the other person if it doesn't work out for you. *sigh* It is even exhausting TELLING about it--I cannot even IMAGINE DOING it!

My goal as a parent is to create people who other people enjoy spending time with; people who are good friends and reliable, kind without being pushovers, and easy to befriend. I want my kids to be the type of people who make other people feel good when they spend time with them. I don't want them to be energy suckers or people who bring the room down just by their presence. This is a difficult job. I am CONSTANTLY on my kids for--well, EVERYTHING, and people give me a hard time for it. "Oh it's fine that he grabbed that out of my hand simply because he wanted it RIGHT NOW...leave him alone, he's just a kid!" REALLY? Because isn't that the same child you will refrain from inviting over the next time? You will remember that he is obnoxious, not that YOU allowed him to be obnoxious. I am constantly on my kids to use their manners and people give me a hard time for that, but what child do you want to spend time with--the one who demands things or the one who asks if he please could participate in things? When a person says thank you doesn't it make you feel good--even appreciated? What about when they simply take and leave? How do you feel then?

Luckily, my husband feels the same way about parenting. My son would NEVER treat my husband the way he treats me--probably because my husband does not point out his weaknesses, nor does he allow any disrespect. I have always encouraged talking about feelings and behaviors where my husband lays down the law. "This is how it is-- period." I like to think that I am the same way, but I think we all know the truth. "This is how it is and let me tell you why..."  In fact, my husband has recently gotten tougher because I am slacking. There have been SEVERAL times when I have undermined him or forgiven behavior that usually is not tolerated simply because I am sick of being mean ALL the time. Not okay, I know, but it definitely won't become a regular thing as long as I address it.

This parenting thing is more than a full time job and it is exhausting. I am honored to be privileged enough to parent my three beautiful children and it is a responsibility I don't take lightly, nor does my husband. I NEVER get a break because when I do take one, it takes five weeks to undo the damage of ignoring one rude moment or one act of bullying. My children test the boundaries DAILY sometimes hourly (secondly?!) and when I am not "on" I pay. I could spend my time not caring and letting what happens happen--and there have been days when I've done that, but I pay later. If I want the end result to be well-adjusted people who are easy to get along with and who others WANT to have as friends and companions, then I cannot afford to take ANY time off--not if I want to do my job right.

I do love my children--and they will tell you how much I love them. More than chocolate and ice cream. More than a trip to the islands. More than ANY video game or television show. And more than any amount of sleep or "time off" that I might take to make my life a bit easier. I love my children enough to "hate" them every-so-often and to know their weaknesses when they do not--not to point out those weaknesses, but to help them turn those weaknesses into strengths so that they are able to succeed in life without me. I love them more than anything in this world which is why I commit to this fight--and it IS a fight--daily--so that I can look at my work one day and KNOW that it was worth it.

I can say with confidence that my children are extremely polite (usually). I rarely have to remind them to use manners, to introduce themselves or to ask before they play with or take something at another person's home. I never get anything but glowing reviews from school (though the middle one is a bit social like her mother!) and it would seem that our constant parenting is working. They seem to only act out with us or with people they know HAVE to love them. That's something, right?  The thing is, their "acting out" is nothing compared to what I see some other children do (I know a lot of you out there and your children are also this great), but the behavior is still unacceptable.  They should respect others--period--and should not go out of their way to make another person feel bad (yes, it IS bad, not badLY--look it up...).  I want them to feel empathy--to treat others the way they want to be treated and to defend those who are unable to defend themselves. When they sniff out weakness, I want them to stand up for it, not destroy it. I think we are definitely headed in the right direction, but our job is not even CLOSE to being done.

Now I know why my mother said, "Now she's YOUR problem--I'm done!" to my husband on our wedding day. I was so insulted at the time, but I get it now. She worried about my every move for twenty-eight years. She probably didn't sleep a full eight hours during any of that time, so FINALLY she was released of that duty (though there have DEFINITELY been other times since then when I've had her on her toes!). I think of my aunt who is a second mother to...well...EVERYONE--while being the mother of two incredible young men-- and I think of how tired SHE must be! I also think (and hope!) that it is rewarding to see what that hard work created. I think that every good decision I make must make them feel proud of themselves for what they did, though I fear that every poor decision does the opposite. THIS is what I signed up for when having my babies, and I wouldn't trade it for anything--not even a solid eight hours!

I WILL continue to complain about my children. I do not EVER pretend like everything is okay if it isn't. I am honest to a fault (at least MY version of what I think is right!) and change my mind regularly. Even when I am screaming at the top of my lungs or threatening to leave my house sans children, I LOVE my children and my life. I would rather FEEL that love in my heart than PRETEND to feel it on paper.,

"Prewarding:" The Newest Thing at Our House

So I told you already that Ryan wanted to go as "fun" for Halloween, but "fun" changed each time we went somewhere.After she was "fun," she was (what she refferred to as) a "ghost bride." She wore a green and pink (BRIGHT green and BRIGHT pink) striped shirt, a pair of Addison's jeans (ie-two sizes too small) and an old sleeveless bridal costume that she got for her birthday two years ago. I seriously need to learn how to post pictures so you can witness her wardrobe! I also need to post their Halloween...creations...so that you can witness for yourself Addison's Batman/Snow White masterpiece or Brayden's Spiderman/Cinderella debacle. At least they are creative... We were pretty booked last weekend, which I liked. I love taking my kids AWAY from my house. Maybe it's because they fight at home. Maybe it's because they make messes. Maybe it's because I see ELEVEN loads of laundry and a food-covered floor that I simply refuse to clean staring back at me. Whatever the reason, my kids go out--A LOT! The Saturday before Halloween was a prime example. Addison's very best friend from school (and her mom) told us that our mall was having trick or treating on Saturday morning and a local glass-blowing museum (which is set up like the most adorable small town) was doing the same on Sunday. "Fun," 'Beauty" and Karate Guy ( before they "created" costumes, they decided to wear the costumes as they were intended--except for Ryan (who was "Fun"). Addison wore an old Belle costume and Brayden wore his Gi (Karate robe), tied a red rope around his head and called himself a ninja.) decked themselves out in their costume--ON THEIR OWN I might add-- to head out in the freezing monsoon that enveloped our town. I shouldn't complain about the weather--everyone else seemed to be fighting "Snowtoberfest--" we were lucky by comparison! We rushed from the mall to basketball practice with a pit-stop home to "lose" "Fun" and "Beauty." While at basketball, another friend called to remind me that her church was having a Halloween party-trunk-or-treat chili cookoff and they would love for us to come. VERY exciting. THEN ANOTHER friend (this story is making me look MUCH more popular than I am...) called to see if we wanted to go trick-or-treating with them at Walmart at four. Hmmm. As I was trying to figure out the logisitics, Brayden and I stopped at Shop Rite to find pumpkins. They were out, but luckily THEY were having trick or treating, so thirty dollars (and one excited boy with his own bag of candy that his sisters did not get) later (cider, donuts, pretzels, chicken...) we headed to a different store. I already complained about the price of the pumpkins in one of my last posts, so let's move ahead to when we got home. The girls were "counting" all of their candy from the mall. Brayden joined them and I attempted to fill my husband in on all of the events we may or may not be attending. Unfortunately, my children cannot be alone together for more than five minutes without fighting. As the arguments ensued, I found myself saying to my husband (seconds after I decided Walmart would be too much), "Maybe we SHOULD go to Walmart. If we stay here they are probably going to get in trouble and we may not even BE ABLE to go to the church party tonight..." I was lost in the thought when I noticed the look on my husband's face. "What?" "WHAT?! We are going to "preward" them now? Let them do something fun BECAUSE they are children who get in trouble so to prevent them from misbehaving we are going to take them somewhere fun?!" "When you put it THAT way..." I laughed. "And really," he continued, "how many times are they going trick-or-treating? WE went trick or treating ONE TIME when we were kids. Once. Brayden has already been TWICE, they all are going tonight AND tomorrow, AND IT ISN'T EVEN HALLOWEEN YET!" He makes a valid (if not uncharacteristically LOUD) point. When did this happen to me?

MY Kind of List

I've decided that instead of making a "To Do" list, I am going to make an "I [will] Never" list and am checking off the item if and when I've done it. THIS way I will feel like I am ACTUALLY accomplishing something. 1. I Will Never...allow my children to eat junk food. Check. For breakfast. Check. For all three meals in one day. Check. Check-check. 2. I will NEVER let my children sass-talk me. BAHAHAHAHAHAHA! That's just not even worthy of putting a check by it because it is SO ludicrous! I think they each came out of the WOMB with an attitude! 3. I will never "diet" again. Check. 4. I will NEVER eat another carb again. Bahahahaha! CHECK. 5. I will NEVER NOT eat another carb again.Check. 6. I will NEVER say hurtful things to another human being. Check. 7. I will NEVER say (or WRITE) bad things about my children. Check. 8. I will NEVER say hurtful words to my children. Check. 9. I will NEVER say hurtful things to my husband. Check. 10. I will NEVER say hurtful things about my husband. Check. 11. I will NEVER imagine suffocating my husband with a pillow. Check. (Though I don't think I actually SAID it...it NEVER came up in my thought process and probably NEVER should have...) 12. I will NEVER allow my children to watch shows that aren't educational or beneficial in some way. Check. 13. I will NEVER let my children watch shows that are not meant for their age groups (ie Sponge Bob, iCarly...) Check. 14. I will NEVER use the television as a babysitter. CHECK. 15. I will NEVER give my children candy. Check 16. I will NEVER give my children lollipops. Check. 17. I will never convince myself that the "cherry" in the lollipop counts as fruit. Check. 18. I will NEVER let my children play outside unattended. Check. 19. I will NEVER let my children ride a bike or a scooter without a helmet. Check. 20. I will NEVER judge another mom. Check. 21. I will NEVER become defensive of my parenting because it isn't anyone else's business anyway. Check. 22. I will NEVER spank my child. Check. 23. I will NEVER let my child get away with MURDER because I feel guilty for spanking him. Check. 24. I will NEVER try to pit my children against one another so that I don't have to be the one to discipline them. Check. 25. I will NEVER let my children live like slobs. Check. 26. I will NEVER let my children become spoiled. Check. 27. I will NEVER...let my children have ice cream for dinner, tell my son that he SHOULD run away--I don't blame him, laugh AT my children--not WITH them, use sarcasm with my husband or children--BAHAHAHAHA! Do I not even KNOW myself?! Leave the dishes for more than a night, leave the laundry for more than a night, rewash the same load of laundry more than twice. More than THREE times. More than FOUR times, lose myself in my family, let myself REALLY go, put my health and well-being last, lie to my children, believe ANYTHING my children tell me, leave my children in the bathtub alone--even for a second, a minute, ten minutes,until I hear gurgling from them going under, allow my children to ride in a car without their car seats,let my children chew sugary gum, let my children's schedules dictate my schedule, let my children sleep with me in my bed, let my children sleep with me more than once a week...let my children sleep with me more often than not, spend HOURS on the phone/computer instead of being with my family...I will NEVER be like my MOTHER. CHECK. I feel so accomplished. I've NEVER had so many things checked off of a list. I think I may be on to something...

Trick or Treat...

Halloween. I know that some people wait for it all year and decorate their homes like the seasonal aisle at Walmart and I LOVE participating in their fun--I do. I love going to OTHER people's houses to look at their decorations and even to help if they need me to. For us, the only decorations we've been known to have are the overgrown weeds in our garden and the white-trash trash that accrues in our yard (TOASTER OVENS, for example...). We usually carve a few pumpkins, though this year we almost missed THAT. Luckily, there was a place that still had them--ONE place that still had them--and THEY were only charging six bucks a pumpkin. SIX BUCKS A PUMPKIN. Eighteen dollars later, I head home, knowing there is NO WAY we will be carving them until mid-November. They are FROZEN. We probably won't even carve them at all--goodbye eighteen dollars. My Halloween moms are cringing right now. How could I wait so long for the Halloween experience? My friend Laura starts getting ready in August. How COOL for her kids! I LOVE looking at the photos of all the fun she and her friends have getting ready for and enjoying Halloween. My friend Marcia always gets a pumpkin the size of Texas and generally hands out beer and hot dogs along with the sweet treats. THAT is something I can get on board with--SOMEONE ELSE providing the fun FOR my family. My friend Cathy seriously owns enough Halloween stuff to open up her own Spirit of Halloween store. I'm serious--if they made it, she has it and no words can really describe her Halloween...menagerie...? Their houses are like Halloween wonderlands and I love driving by with my kids or bringing up facebook photos to show them. Only now they say, "Why don't WE ever have fun things like that at OUR house?!" Because YOUR mommy is lazy--shut up, kid! I feel like I should adopt my children out during this time of year--just so they can have the experience of living with someone fun and organized for an amazing and exciting Halloween experience. You know--someone who actually DECORATES, does gift bags, makes orange and black baked goods, serves eyeballs and worms...someone who is not me. I don't know what my problem is really. I seem to be able to make an effort for Christmas, but that's all I have in me. One holiday. I would claim Easter as well, but I'm lucky if I throw a bunny or an egg on the window and we tend to use our palms from Palm Sunday to decorate. And by decorate, I mean throw strips of pulled-apart palm leaves around the floor. Happy Easter! Currently, my children can be distracted by and are mainly concerned with the candy of course, but that is because they don't know what they are missing. Eventually they will find out that I am a dud. Eventually they will learn that they can have candy AND fun. Hopefully by then they will be old enough to run it for me.

So...very...T-I-R-E-D...

With a solid two hours, I would be appalled at this post. Luckily, my children won't even give me ONE... I hate them. I do. Not because they don't listen to me. Not because they are nasty to me.Not because if they heard me say hate they would go on for hours about the "bad word" I said and give me a lecture about the fact that "we don't SAY hate." Not even because they ruined my body. I hate them because I LOVE sleep. And with every one of them I lost even more sleep. I haven't slept--REALLY slept--since 2003. I know what you're thinking--"I can't BELIEVE she would EVER say that she hates her children! What a HORRIBLE mother!" Whatever. You know that you would trade your youngest for seven uninterrupted hours without batting an eyelash--you just won't admit it. There are people I have had FULL conversations with in the last eight years that I don't even REMEMBER. The conversation, the PERSON, LEAVING the house...it's all a fog. Granted, I've had some health issues, but don't tell me that a lot of those weren't exacerbated by the fact that I had little to no sleep. When I went undiagnosed for years I would say, "They are probably thinking, 'Yeah--of course she looks and feels like garbage--she has THREE kids!'" Recently I saw a comic on facebook with a woman (looking (sadly) a lot like me sitting on an examination table. The doctor walks in and says, "You've been diagnosed with having children..." I'm pretty sure that no one laughed (or cried!) as hard as I did at THAT one! The thing is, three isn't even that many. People have more, "SEVENTEEN and counting..." (though now I think it's NINETEEN and counting! What do I know? It's probably thirty-three and counting at this point--what does SHE care? She looks well rested. BECAUSE HER CHILDREN ARE RAISING HER CHILDREN...I hate when I judge. I'm just---so---TIRED.) It goes both ways, you know. They hate me, too. If they didn't, would they take turns keeping me up all night? They are almost 5, 6, and 7. There is NO reason why they shouldn't be able to sleep--THROUGH THE NIGHT. IN THEIR OWN BEDS. For AT LEAST seven hours (though I would be HAPPY with five). THEY don't appear to be exhausted. I swear it's a conspiracy. And on the off chance that they DO sleep (which I REALLY don't REMEMBER when THAT was...), my husband chimes in with his incessant snoring. See...? They ALL hate me.

I WANT a dog...NOW.

I want a dog. I mean I REALLY want a dog. I used to NOT want a dog. At all. I remember when I first lost my desire to have canine company. I was sitting in my sun room in Virginia anticipating (or dreading...depending on what version of the story I'm telling and what mood I'm in that day!") the arrival of my second child (Ryan. The girl. Just thought I should clarify.). Until this point in my life, I desperately wanted a dog. A Golden retriever named Molson or Murphy or a red one named Killian or something equally as cool and "suburban" as those. I was looking in the pet section of the paper (yes, I know there is a better name for it, but I don't feel like thinking about that right now) thinking that a mutt would be fine...it just needed to be retriever-esque or lab-ish. Brayden (18 months at the time) was sleeping and I SHOULD have been [sleeping].

 I nodded off for a second and awoke with a sudden fear and panic. "I DON'T WANT A DOG!" I yelled to no one. "WHAT WAS I THINKING?!" I called my husband at work."I DON'T WANT A DOG!" I yelled in his ear. "Ummm...oookaaaayyyy...?" He responded. "I CAN'T TAKE CARE OF A DOOOOG!" I continued. "Ummm...oookaaayyyy..." he said again. "I CAN'T EVEN TAKE CARE OF MY CHILD OR MYSELF OR THE NEW BABY..." My panic was getting the better of me. "Okay...wait a second. First of all--we don't have a dog. We were never going to GET a dog. You CAN take care of your babies--you are doing it right now and you don't HAVE to be able to take care of a dog because we aren't getting one. EVER." After the first pregnancy, he knew how to address my hysteria, so I calmed down a bit. The problem is with that EVER comment. The problem IS, now I WANT a dog. And our circumstances are worse (though the hysteria has subsided).

Brayden is severely allergic to dogs. And cats. And eggs. And some nuts. AND [MOST of the time) any orders from ME. My only concern for the intents and purposes of this post is really with dogs. He gets slight asthma and serious excema when he makes contact. with certain dogs. Some dogs are worse than others for some reason that I could probably learn about if I would just look it up, but I am far too lazy to do that. I think Ryan may be slightly allergic as well because when we are around certain dogs she gets hives on her face that are similar to what happens with Brayden and his excema. Addison...well, Addison is a completely different story and I blame her for my desire to have a dog.
When they were younger, both Ryan and Brayden had an appropriate fear of dogs. I say appropriate, because they didn't freak out when a dog came near them; they were hesitant to approach and were taught to put their hands out for dogs to smell and to ask permission before touching. I KNOW--they actually LISTENED to something I said! I need to write this DOWN! Oh yeah...I AM. Anyway...the "fear" was more hesitation when meeting a dog for the first time or even the second or third. Addison, however, never had appropriate fear or any fear of dogs for that matter. When she was still crawling, an extremely large dog jumped on her and we all stopped breathing for a moment while she decided on a response. A collective sigh passed through the room when she began giggling and playing with the dog instead of shrieking and crying like we assumed would happen. Since that time, I have seen her natural love of dogs grow. Wherever we go, Addison is first drawn to the dogs. In fact, our very dear friends from Montana (who completely spoil Addison) have dogs and Addison talks about the dogs more than she talks about the actual PEOPLE. Their dog, Maya is a weiner dog (and quite possibly the best dog I know--sorry everyone else!) and is quite literally Addison's best friend. For ten months, Addison would talk about how much she missed Maya. I would mention the names of people and she would say, "Ohhhh, yes--I do miss dem too--but I reawlly miss MAYA!"
Every time we talk about their family visiting, Addison jumps up and down, claps and says, "YAY! I git to see MAYA!" "What about Miss Natalie (another dog person and Addison's favorite person), Addison?" "Ummmm--YES. AND I GIT TO SEE MAYA!" It's the same with any person we mention. Addie would rather spend her time with dogs.
SO (am I boring you, 'cause I think I'm boring ME!), Addison was the first reason why I decided I wanted a dog. I hope I didn't lose you...it's going to get interesting...NOW.

At the end of summer I met a high school friend at a mall near us. We were early, so we decided to bring the kids into the pet store (which is usually safe because I have NO DESIRE to take care of or clean up after ANYTHING else!) to see the animals. The nine-year-old at the register (yes, I believe they allow CHILDREN to work in these stores. The boy did not even hit puberty yet--he COULDN'T have--and I refuse to believe that it isn't that HE is young...it's that I am OLD...) was holding a rust-colored Pomeranian (I'm not sure if that is how it is spelled and yes, I know that I could have an answer in seconds, but this story is already taking SO LONG to tell...) and suddenly I was holding it. This pup burrowed his nose into my neck, gave me a not-too-wet kiss and snuggled back down again. It was like I was carrying the BEST baby EVER. I LOVED that dog. It was months ago and I still feel the love for a dog I spent minutes (Okay, to be honest, I wouldn't let him go for at least a half hour!) with in the pet store. It was so hard to release him (and I say "release" because I'm pretty sure I had the death grip on him)--until I saw the sign that said he was 1500 DOLLARS--he'd better poop gold for that price! Who am I kidding? I don't want him to poop ANYTHING for that price! Not only should he not poop, he should clean, do laundry... Of course if my husband didn't A. Hate to spend money and B. think he did not want a dog, I may have been convinced to spend that on this amazing dog. You only need one kidney, right?) I know I promised you interesting, but it's a story about wanting a dog. Did you REALLY think it was going to get better? Maybe NOW...

When we got home, I decided that we need to get a dog. Addison needs a dog, and so do I. Dogs love you and cuddle with you when you need them. Dogs don't touch you when you don't want to be touched. Dogs don't whine, "Momomomomomomomomomomomomomomomomomom" when you don't listen to them the first time and they don't poke you when they want something. Dogs don't follow you around and yell at you and others when you try to have a telephone conversation and they DON'T push the keys on the computer when you try to type. Most of all, you can correct a dog's behavior without it acting like you've beaten him with a stick and are the worst person on the planet. I NEED a dog. I researched different types of hypoallergenic dogs and wanted to get one immediately. It turns out, it's pretty hard to figure out this "hypoallergenic" thing. My husband will never go for paying for a dog (aside from the $75 shot fee at the SPCA) and I don't know how easy it will be to find a hypoallergenic mutt who is mild-mannered, won't poop or pee in the house and won't bite or eat anything he isn't supposed to [eat or bite]. I am, however, on a mission, and I CAN'T WAIT to be able to write about my new friend! I'll keep you "posted..." (Bad puns are kind of my thing--sorry!)

Staying "Connected"

Facebook is TOTALLY underrated. People will readily pay hundreds--even thousands of dollars on therapy and not think anything of it--I know, because I've been there--yet the therapists I've encountered haven't really done much for me. ONE nice comment or word of inspiration from a great friend (or sometimes a friend-of-a-friend--or even an acquaintance!) can do what hours of therapy can not--give me a feeling of worth. A feeling like I'm not alone in the world--like I'm "connected" in some way with another human being. My "daily words of affirmation" come when I see the little red box light up in the top left corner of my computer screen. I anxiously click on it in hopes that SOMEONE has commented on SOMETHING. Maybe I shouldn't discount therapy just yet...

 I've noticed several things since my relationship with facebook began. 1. I DO have an addictive personality. 2. I have HILARIOUS friends (who also have HILARIOUS friends). 3. I know some pretty amazing and inspirational people. 4. My husband hates facebook.

Now the "addiction" to facebook is being shared with my "addiction" to blogging and I think that the "addiction" is not really to those things at all. I'm addicted to being validated. I'm addicted to "hearing" nice things about myself and funny things about the world. I'm married to a man and have three small children, hence there isn't a lot of communicating or validating going on around here. I turn to my facebook "friends" to provide me with what I need emotionally in life. That sounds so sad, doesn't it? P-R-E-T-T-Y pathetic. But how needy would I be if I expected the people around me to constantly comment, compliment and validate me? It's what we as humans truly want, but it's exhausting to do--at least in person (Can you imagine walking around saying, "I like that" and coming up with something inspirational to say to a person ALL day?!). I know--I've tried.

I'm a "validator" and a "complimenter." I'm not bragging--there are many things I'm not (a housekeeper or organizer for instance...a mathemetician or accountant...a super model or centerfold...you get it), but I began working with children when I was a teenager and from that I learned that people feel good when they are complimented and validated and I like to make other people feel good about themselves. For eleven years, I would begin any...disagreement...in my relationship with, "You are so great at..."cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry, playing with the kids..." and I really appreciate you, but..." Unfortunately, in the eleven years, my husband only hears the"...BUT..." which really makes me into kind of a jerk. Facebook lets me not be the jerk and I REALLY like that. BUT...it really became an issue in my relationship (which I WILL NOT get into again. I PROMISE!).

We moved to Kalispell Montana before I was ever on facebook.  I don't know if you know this or not, but Montana is on the OTHER SIDE OF THE PLANET!  I even called it MonFREAKINtana before we got there (and even when we WERE there at first--until my four-year-old son told my mother how much he loved "MonFREAKIN'tana." Then I stopped.).  For several months it was me, my children (who were 4,3, and 2 at the time) and my [cranky and exhausted] husband.  No one else. I am a talker (SURPRISE!) and although I had the phone (you KNOW how great small children are when you are on the phone...), I had no other adult contact...EVER, because my husband was quietly enduring whatever it is that men endure and was not letting me in on ANY of his secrets.

I finally joined TWO mom's groups (I tried to join a third, but it was thirty minutes away and I felt guilty for joining three!), which helped IMMENSELY ( I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS!), but at the beginning I still only had superficial relationships. On February 14, I decided to join facebook. My friend, Chrissy talked me through it (and she and her husband were my first "friends") and I couldn't stop! It felt weird only having two friends--like sitting in thehigh school cafeteria alone--and I couldn't help but get the feeling I had when I moved to Lockport in the second grade or Williamsville in the tenth--what if I ask them to be my friend and they say..."NO!"?! Chrissy assured me that this feeling would go away soon and that I would be surprised at how many people would say "yes" and then, would even ask ME to be THEIR friend! (I'm SUCH a geek--I know!) I spent all day thinking about facebook and how many "friends" I would have. We went out to eat for Valentine's Day--our first date in months (I dropped my kids off at a "drop-in" child care facility--a few moms snubbed their noses at that, yet weren't offering to watch my kids...don't get me started on WHY we need to SUPPORT each other in ALL that we do. That's a topic for another day!) and my husband looked over at me and said, "You're thinking about facebook right now, aren't you?" For the first time, I was the one who was somewhere else, and I couldn't stop! We watched a video when we got home and my thoughts were on facebook, which I immediately logged onto when the credits were rolling. I was on until the wee hours of the morning and it was FANTASTIC! Chrissy and her husband "commented" that I had more friends in one day then they had in four months. Chrissy wrote, "Wow--you've been busy!" and she wasn't kidding. I finally felt "connected" with other human beings and I was LOVING it! I even made a secret deal with myself (I do that...it's not weird...) to write a funny status each day. I would "write" them in bed at night. I would "write" them in the shower (on the off chance I was ABLE to shower!) and I would "write" them while driving. I cracked myself up, though I'm not sure if I was "cracking up" anyone else! All I cared about was getting it out there and (hopefully) seeing the little red box light up in the corner!

The thing is, I have made a lot of amazing friends through the years, but I am HORRIBLE at keeping in touch. I sit up at night and think, "Oh my goodness--I really need to call her--it has been so long!" or "Wow--I forgot about him--I wonder what he is up to these days..." and "I really wonder what my students will end up doing with their lives..." and would feel sad about the people I would probably never talk to again. Enter facebook. I still remember people and try to "find" them and "friend" them, but it was amazing to see how many people "found" me. Now I have "chats" with people I haven't seen since middle school. I reunite with distant cousins and make friends with my friends' friends. I am able to see former students and their babies (not the best perk--I can't believe I'm THAT old!)--NOT because they were having them in high school, but because they found me (or I found them!) on facebook after they were grown and married. I often think that I want to have a facebook reunion (or would it just be...union?!) and get all of my fb "friends" together to meet. I have maybe 500 friends and I would say at least 450 are people I genuinely would love to hang out with on a regular basis. These are good (and funny!) (and brilliant!) people who have so much to offer the world--not just facebook--and I often think about "fixing them up" with each other because I know how well  their personalities would mesh. I feel great after I've "chatted" with all of them. Of course, then there is the guilt over not staying in touch on facebook...that's what happens when your raised in an Italian Catholic family...guilt just becomes part of who you are.

These days I try not to be on facebook for too long--I don't look at ALL the updates (though some days I try to), however I want to stay connected. I feel sad if someone posted something funny or news about their family and I didn't see it. I'm not so much concerned about what they ate for dinner (unless it's something I MUST make!) or if they just got back from the store (unless it's a store I MUST go to), but my friends use those posts sparingly. They, like me, are in it to inspire or humor. And what could be wrong with wanting to stay connected to THAT?!

I feel a lot of pressure. Yesterday, I posted something very personal, and although I welcomed so many positive responses on here and on facebook, I know that two serious days in a row will scare people away from the blog. Never leave the blog, people. Some days will be funnier than others--some days will be HILARIOUS (I'm really full of myself these days, aren't I?!) and some days will be...not-so-hilarious. You have to read to find out, right?

I have to say that after I hit "publish" yesterday, I was fully prepared to hear crickets. AWWWWKWAAAAARD. Luckily, that wasn't the case. I think we all go through similar things and secretly hope that others are going through them as well. It doesn't make us cruel or mean--it makes us human. It makes us feel more normal (it's all relative!) to know that the same words, actions, fears...whatever, are going on in at least one other human being's life. I guess I shouldn't speak for "us" (That's another problem I have which resulted in the topic we discussed yesterday--speaking for my husband. In my defense, he doesn't really speak for himself, so SOMEONE needs to start talking!); maybe YOU think I'm crazy (again with the relativity) and YOU would NEVER feel any of the feelings I discuss in my posts. Contrary to what I just wrote, that would make me happy. I really should pick a side and stay on it, right? Either I'm happy for people or I want them to endure whatever I'm enduring. The thing is, I feel both things. It's nice to commiserate when things aren't going great and to compare stories when they are. On the flip side, I wouldn't wish misery on anyone and would be happy to hear of people who DO NOT go through the things I've shared. I only share so that those who ARE going through things are able to see that they aren't alone. And when you are talking ALL the time, yet no one is listening, you tend to feel alone, right?

So today I need to be funny. There is nothing funnier than a person who is forcing humor. Pretty soon I'll start explaining the jokes, too. THAT is always a knee slapper. Who even SAYS that anymore?! See--this is what pressure does to a person.

I could tell you about Addison's latest antics ("Mommy, I want you to eat me so dat I can be a baby in your belly again! Just don't eat me wiff  yowor teef orI wiwwill be a dinosaur!" WHAT?! Not really sure what that was all about, but I AM pretty sure that we need to explain some things to her before she starts terrorizing the preschool children with visions of dinosaurs climbing out of bellies!) or Ryan's rants ("I just look STUPID (evidently SHE'S not concerned with the "bad word" list!) when I wear a coat and am warm. NOBODY else is warm!" Seriously?! I don't even know what that MEANS!). Brayden is always good for some insight, (Mommy, I don't think you should let the girls hang out with those boys because they use curse words and the girls aren't mature enough to know they shouldn't repeat what they hear." REALLY? Who is running this show anyway?! Now you know why we call him "The Professor!") and there is more information posted than you EVER want to hear (funny or not) about my relationship (as evidenced by yesterday's post).

What kind of makes me laugh is that a dear friend of mine called to say that she couldn't stop laughing at yesterday's post. This is one of my closest and dearest friends--she has known me for DECADES (which makes me so sad because I am old enough to know people for DECADES, but it beats the alternative, right?) and actually LIVED with my husband and me at one point, so she knew that I was actually TRYING to be funny in the post. I know the "D" word (No, not DUMB! Or the other one!) is really not a light topic, nor is it something that should make you laugh. THAT'S why we found it funny. We tend to think that things that are inappropriate to discuss or are said to be private matters are funny, mostly because no one wants to talk about them (think "fart" to a first grader) for fear of doing something wrong. I've learned two things in my old age. 1. If you act like something is wrong, then it becomes wrong and you feel like a failure or a bad person for doing it. 2. Saying something out loud (or on paper) makes it real and also helps you to see the absurdity of it. Holding on to something gives it more power--letting it out or sharing with others takes the power away for some reason.  That's why I share. A lot. Almost to a fault. Okay...maybe not ALMOST to a fault...

For those who are concerned, I am not getting a divorce. In fact, since we have been speaking these things OUT LOUD to each other, our marriage has gotten better. A new friend told me to take a look at my marriage and think, "How would I feel if my husband walked in (to wherever)with another woman and my kids--knowing that this other woman was raising my children?" and to ask him how he would feel if I were to do that to him. It made me think. We made a choice to be together and we have the ability to choose to stay or not to stay. Once the decision is made to stay, we need to commit to that decision and to do whatever possible to  make it the right decision. For ourselves, for each other and for our children.

Funny, right?

Evidently NOTHING is off limits on this blog...

I almost got divorced last month. I SAID I ALMOST GOT DIVORCED LAST MONTH. Yes, that's a bit personal, but I think that things need to be talked about so that we don't explode. Which is precisely the reason why the big "D" almost happened. Don't worry--I said ALMOST and we don't have to whisper--my husband knows--he was there. To be fair, we didn't actually SAY we were going to actually DIVORCE. We said we were going to separate (which really means divorce, let's be honest. How many people "separate" so that they can get back together and everything will be fine? None. I know.) while each of us figured "things" out. It took us all night, but "things" were figured out before the "separation" actually took place.  Maybe they weren't "figured out" exactly, but they were addressed, which is a BIG step for us! The good news is (aside from the fact that we did NOT file the papers) we peoved that we could actually DO something--I always thought we would be too lazy to get a divorce or to even DISCUSS it. See? Growth.

Now don't get me wrong--I'm the one who talked about "separating" first. My husband is...well...a man, so his communication skills are...well...lacking. Add to that the fact that I come from a very...YELLY (that is now a word) and dramatic family and he comes from a family where the most emotion they muster up is:"Yes--that is very nice," (over, say, getting a promotion or winning a million dollars). As for sad events or things that make them angry...nothing. It is simply not discussed or mentioned. One would think that they are always just...content with whatever situation arises.

I've known about our differences since before we got engaged, but being a...woman...I thought for sure that time with me would help him to feel...emotions like excitement and elation (or even anger and rage). Yes, I know you are thinking it--I thought I could CHANGE him. Don't we all? And he did change...a bit. Once we added children to the mix, he definitely changed--and so did I. The problem is, I became crabbier and he became happier--at least with them. Still not so much with me, but we're working on THAT.

In our eleven years of marriage, we have been through better, worse, worse again, a liiiiiiittttttttlllllle bit better, then worse. We've been through poorer, then richer, then even RICHER, then REALLY poorer still, then a little bit above poorer, but not quite richer. We've been through health, then sickness, then more sickness then...I think you get my point. We covered all of the bases except the "...death do us part," and with the way we were feeling about each other, that was going to be soon.

My husband is a genuinely nice guy and quite easy on the eyes. You would like him--EVERYONE does. This should be a selling factor in a relationship, no? NO! There were  times in our relationship where I despised...yes, DESPISED my husband. The anger and rage consumed me. I think some of it was post-partum depression, but most of it was...him. Just kidding--it was me, too and my need for validation. I would compliment and validate him and would in turn expect (or at least HOPE) that he would do the same for me. Instead, he was like the crabby uncle at a reunion. He would sit in his chair with nothing to say. The rage came when those around us started thinking that HE was the nice guy and I was the b*%#h (this IS PG).

I had always been the nice one--it was MY thing and suddenly he took over with his passive-aggressive ways and made ME into the mean one. His family didn't even get to meet "Nice Nika." People who met me after we met don't even know her. I used to be afraid to leave my name for the pizza guy for fear of doing something wrong in turn making him think I was mean, but I finally established that SOMEONE needed to leave a name or NO PIZZA FOR US (which really should be our motto these days anyway!). I was always the ridiculous tipper. I was a waitress for years and fully believe that someone may truly be having a bad day, so as long as they aren't mean to me, they usually get 20% plus a dollar (which changes the percentage to something I should probably know, but I don't and the NEW me won't apologize for that). If they are rude? 15%. I used to have debates with every boyfriend (and even my mother!) about that. My husband? Not only did he follow suit, sometimes he will even leave 50% (especially if the waitress is hot--don't think I'm fooled!). It's like he was trying to "out-nice" me. And it worked. Especially when we had no money and he was leaving 50% on a check. Enter "Mean-Nika."

The nice and mean problem was most prevalent in our early days as parents. I know most couples go through this--first we have to learn to live with another person, next we have to learn how to run a small town (yes, I know my metaphors are slipping, but it honestly FEELS like a small town!) as co-leaders. No easy task. Luckily, we had most of the same parenting philosophies--most of which went out the window when we realized how absurd it was for us to have "philosophies" on something we had never done. Or maybe I learned that and never told him. Maybe he's not the only one who needs to work on communication after all...

A hundred dead bodies simply aren't enough [dead bodies]

There are a hundred dead bodies in my kitchen. They are splattered around the walls like a Trading Spaces episode gone wrong. Personally, I would rather have some freak of nature PAINT MY WHITE CARPET RED (WHAT?! It REALLY happened--back before having children destroyed my hang-around-in-my-PJs- (I was going to say UNDERWEAR, but I want you to be able to sleep tonight) and-watch-random- television-shows-days) than have a hundred dead bodies covering my walls. Just sayin'...

I finally snapped on Monday night. I couldn't take it anymore. The last time I felt this way it was about the floor in my house in Montana THREE years ago and there were no dead bodies. Thankfully, though my husband and children were pushing it. That particular time, I was scraping hardened oatmeal off of the floor for the ELEVENTH time that week (it was Tuesday) when some poor child had the misfortune of being THE ONE who dropped frozen (yet defrosted enough to REALLY do the job) blueberries. On my head. And on the floor. That I had JUST cleaned and washed. On my hands and knees. With my freshly showered hands. Yes--I took a SHOWER that day. THAT was definitely the straw.

Anyone who met me after January 17th 2009, knew a person who NEVER washed her floor. EVER. Everyone who knew me BEFORE that date knew a person who RARELY washed her floor. BIG DIFFERENCE. People would come to my house and try to take their shoes off and I would accost them at the front door noting,
"My floors are far dirtier than your shoes could EVER be and you will probably leave here with peanut butter and chili on your sock."
"You made chili?"
"Two weeks ago...and I don't want to TALK about the peanut butter."

This was my way of dealing with THAT breakdown. That was BEFORE little gnats (or fruit flys) invaded my home. I don't believe those bugs (and they are called "BUGS" for a REASON!) exist in Montana. *SIGH* Montana...(cue soft music for my brief reverie...thank you). Who would have thought that a place I referred to as "MonFREAKINtana" before we lived there would be so close to my heart. I love Montana. FRUIT-FLYLESS, GANGLESS, ROAD RAGE-LESS, Corwinless, Montana. But I digress...again. I KNOW what I was talking about because a little gnat is CRAWLING ON MY SCREEN and when I smash his little face in, I'm not sure if my husband will be pleased that I can no longer use the computer, or ticked that HE can no longer use the computer.

I decided to wait it out with the gnat. He's looking at me and I at him, but no one is making the move. The thing is, I will be able to "visit" him later with my (now broken) hot pink swatter that took care of hundreds of his little buddies. And my glass cabinet. And a vase from my mother. And almost my middle child. Yes, sacrifices had to be made, but don't judge. On Monday night I went all Norman Bates on their...wings? and slashed through  my kitchen like Freddie Krueger on Elm street. Yes, I am aware that most of you weren't even IN THE WOMB when either movie came out, but EDUCATE yourselves, people. Watch a little "Remember the eighties (seventies, nineties...)" on VH1 (YES, it IS a channel) and come play when you are done. You won't be disappointed.

So now I have black-spotted crown molding and little black splatters all over my ceiling. My cupboards (the ones that did not break in the attack) have a faux-bug-polka-dot finish. When I get going with my (now broken) (yes, I know I told you, but I'm really annoyed that a gnat the size of a sliver (and equally as painful) was able to split my swatter in half at the top. NO--I DON'T THINK I HAVE RAGE ISSUES--THANK YOU.) hot pink fly swatter, no one is safe. I heard my husband say to my children, 'Mommy's gone to the bad place again," and knew he was right. Though I AM winning the fight and will not go down until every last gnat-fruit-fly-bug is splattered somewhere in my house. Even if it's under the dried oatmeal and blueberries.

Goodbye, toaster!

So Friday afternoon as we are walking by our toaster (if you are just joining us, there is--WAS-- a toaster in my driveway) after a long day at preschool, Addison says, "Mommy--it's a sunny day and the toaster's not wet." I know you are jealous because you will NEVER have this conversation with your child. EVER.
 Anyway, she was noting that it hadn't rained (like it had the two or three days prior) when she pulled out the hardened charcoal that was once a roll, but now looked more like a bagel (from a Tim Burton movie!) with a big hole in the center looking it over as only a four-year-old can, and she started to lift the toaster up from its new (Who am I kidding? It had been there almost a week!) home.I ran to help her as my husband (who was home sick on Friday...he's feeling better, thanks!) opened the door.
"What are you doing?" he asked me.
"I'm helping her lift this because it's very heavy."
"What?! Well, what're you going to DO with it?!"
"We hafta bwring it IN Daddy...'cause it's not wraining anymower, so now it's dwry," she responded for me as she attempted to lug the enormous appliance by herself.
"Well, what do YOU think we should do with it? Should we just leave it in the yard?!" I asked (a bit snappishly, I'm thinking now...).
"I thought you said you were going to 'write a letter'?!" Yeah--I'm GOING TO WRITE a lot of letters. He knows that. I know that. My daughter who is toppling to the side knows that. "There are probably ants in there."
He is probably right and I am NOT a fan of bugs (I will get to my GNAT issues later), but what would he have me do? Create a shrine to the toaster while I write the letter (which, let's be honest here, probably won't happen) mail the letter (not-so-great at this, either),and  wait for a response...the four-year-old knew that the toaster had to go. We brought it to the garage.
"Nyeah, 'cuz we don't want owar toastewer to be in the YARD, wright, Mommy? 'Cus dat would be SILLY?!" she laughed, thinking that we BOTH knew this to be true. At least we have our CHILDREN to take care of us.

To curse or not to curse...

So we are driving with my son (Brayden) and his best friend on Saturday and his friend is telling a story about these boys he befriended in his neighborhood. One of the boys, it seems, likes to use curse words. ALL of them. "I shouldn't say them, right Miss Nika?" he innocently asks. "NO!" my husband and I (finally doing something ALONE and TOGETHER) yelled and practically jumped out of our seats.

 "I mean, that's okay--it's good that you know they aren't okay to say. Sometimes friends aren't told that their words are wrong or that they can hurt other people.  Sometimes it hurts people's feelings just by SAYING the word, even if it isn't meant as an insult,"   I added, trying to deflate the fear he may have felt when the two of us jumped on him.

"Yeah," Brayden contributed. "I know the 'H' word the 'S' word the 'D' word and the 'F' word and I wouldn't want to hear ANYONE say them!" He nodded, knowingly.

My husband and I exchanged glances and I asked, "Really? I'm glad you know not to use them...you won't be in trouble for saying them now...I don't mind, do you, [best friend]?" "No! What are they, Brayden?"

"Hatestupiddumbandfreak!"  he shouted in one breath. "And I'll try not to say them. EVER."

I love my son.

DO YOU HEAR THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH?!

So today it was Brayden's turn. I'm not sure what it was that he was DOING for twenty minutes in his room, but when I went back to see him (for the THIRD time), there he sat, seemingly doing nothing at all. He wasn't making his bed. he wasn't cleaning his room. He wasn't dressed (or GETTING dressed...or even CONTEMPLATING getting dressed, it seemed). He wasn't reading a book, singing a song, writing hate mail to me, picking his nose...he was just sitting, evidently to simply irritate me and send me over the edge. Mission accomplished.

I honestly try (really, I swear) to start off talking with my children in a nice, calm voice...singsong even. By the third time, I look like the bride of Chucky with eyes bulging, nostrils flaring and head contortioning...it isn't pretty. The fact that I'm quite certain my neighbors DOWN THE STREET can hear me in the winter is a problem I'm trying to fix. My fuse seems to get shorter the older I get. Or is it the older THEY get? Either way, it's ugly. I want to patiently wait for my children (and quite honestly, my husband) to do what I ask after I ask them the first or second (or even THIRD...) time, but I feel that MAYBE THEY CANNOT HEAR ME AND SO I HAVE TO YELL. And let's be honest--I usually have to ask TWENTY times before they even THINK about moving. Why do they hate me? I swear it's a conspiracy.

I have friends who very calmly and peacefully interact with their children. Some have children who just automatically do what their mothers/fathers ask them to do. THE FIRST TIME they are asked (or even TOLD) to do it. I swear--I've SEEN it and SOME of you are living it. Secretly we hate you, but don't take offense. I also have friends who ask their children to do things and their children blatantly disregard them--and THEY DON'T CARE! They don't become raving lunatics (like one blog-writer we know), they simply continue on as though nothing happened. HOW?! When three(make that FOUR) people ignore my existance on a regular basis, I start to feel like I'm not even really here. I look around and ask strangers, "You see me, right? I'm not, like a ghost or anything, am I? You're not experiencing a Bruce Willis/Sixth Sense moment with me are you? 'Cause I KINDA feel like I may be a figment of my own imagination..." I often wonder if I'm speaking out loud or if it's only happening in my head. And the longer this..."epidemic'? "condition"? goes on, the more I find that at times I'm really NOT speaking out loud--the line gets grayer with time--and frustration.

It's about significance, really. If none of the people around you find you significant enough to listen to you, you start to feel...well, insignificant! Suddenly you are ranting at mom's groups and exploding at WalMart to the nine-year-old stock boy (seriously--how old DO you have to be to get a work permit these days?) who REALLY wishes you WERE a ghost...And you are yelling. Yelling because you are angry for them not listening to you, yelling because you actually want them to do the thing in question and yelling so that you know you are actually still alive. Okay, so maybe not YOU as much as ME...but you (this time I really mean you!) see where I'm going with this...right? I'm not sure even I see where I'm going with this...no wonder no one listens to me--I don't make any sense! I said I DON'T MAKE ANY SENSE! But you (yes, YOU) already knew that--even BEFORE I started yelling.

Grrrrrrr...MORNINGS...

The thing is, mornings around here...suck. There really isn't a better word for it, so I'm sorry if I offend you. Actually, there are SEVERAL better words for it, but I need to keep my PG blog rating. From the time my son was ONE, I swore that we could get up at FOUR and still not make it out of the house until TEN. What did I do to fix the problem? I had TWO MORE BABIES. Almost back-to-back. Ask me how THAT helped things on the morning front...go on, ask. Let's just say it didn't. I thought it would get better with time. I have really (no, REALLY) independent and obstinate children. Look at the toaster--if my appliances behave that way, imagine what the tiny humans are capable of...I just got a chill down my spine.

Okay...obstinate...independent children. I'm back. I swear they came out of the womb barking orders at me, telling me that they "...KNOOOOOOWWWWW" how to do WHATEVER I ask them to do (yet oddly, DO NOT ACTUALLY DO any of it). I remember being so proud (and yes, I'm sure I gloated--don't judge. We all act like jerks SOME time--some of us just make careers out of it--and NO I am NOT getting into politics on here--today...) So please stop interrupting--I have a hard time even following MYSELF. I was SO PROUD, because my son was picking out his clothes and dressing himself (matching his outfits and looking better than any of us) by the age of two. I'm not sure if I said it, but I'm pretty sure I wanted to make a bumper sticker about it. "My two-year-old dresses better than your middle school honor student..." or something along those lines. I didn't. Make the bumper sticker. Thank God. I'm so glad I'm not THAT person. Instead, I'm the person who writes about it on her blog and makes EVERYBODY read it. Seriously, I think my fb "friend" list dropped significantly when I started calling everybod out BY NAME to read my blog. Who do I really think I am?! Let's not dwell on that for too long--I may start BELIEVING it and then I may stop writing and to be quite honest, this has been very cathartic for me. Nevermind the people who are reading this nonsense...

Where was I...independence...dressing himself...blah, blah, blah...MORNING. SUCKING. That's right. I know that mornings aren't a favorite of many, but in my house they are truly horrific. I know all of the "tricks" and people keep reminding me of them--and I DO them--yet I still have problems. Yes, I make lunches at night. Almost always. Yes, I pick out clothes at night. Almost always. Yes, I have them get their backpacks ready at night. Almost always. Yes, they take showers/baths at night. On the rare occasion that we actually CLEAN them...that's a discussion I only need to have with Social Services, thank you. And this is just making me realize how much our NIGHTS must SUCK.

It doesn't matter how prepared we are for morning, it is almost always disastrous. My children usually tag team--you know, "I'll get on Mom's every last nerve today, you do it tomorrow. This way we can push her just to the edge, pull her back and repeat." On the rare occasion, they all like to do it at once, just to see if I will actually GO over the edge. It hasn't been pretty. My daughter, Ryan (Yes, I KNOW that Ryan is a boy's name. My grandfather reminds me of that on a regular basis, but thanks for the input) has the most beautiful clothes. I'm not saying that to gloat or to be a jerk--I'm saying it because it's true. My beautiful and well-dressed neice gives my girls her clothes after she grows out of them. Being the youngest (and ONLY girl) of five, she REALLY gives us an abundance of quality clothes. This works out so well for us because she is so girly and dainty that none of the clothes even look worn. The problem is, my girls have been known to ruin some of those clothes WITHOUT EVEN WEARING them. Seriously?! I swore I would never be (oh--by the way--NEVER say never) (Great--I can't even SAY that without singing Justin Bieber in my head--make it stop!) the mother who got upset for my kids BEING KIDS, but REALLY? Ruining it BEFORE you wear it?

     

I've come to realize that she (Ryan) may be ruining her clothes on purpose. She is NEVER happy with her clothes. I've tried everything. I choose three outfits--tell her to pick one. I find a top (or bottoms) and tell her to find the bottoms (or top). I even tried to let her pick out the entire outfit on her own, but she ALWAYS finds the one thing that is still 18 mos that I forgot to give away with the rest of the baby clothes and she ALWAYS puts it together with the OTHER thing I forgot to give away with the baby clothes. And the two NEVER match. Not only do they not match, they are ALWAYS the exact opposite. Green and yellow polka dots with fuschia and purple flowers. Orange and red stripes with hot pink and bright green frogs. Did I mention that these outfits almost always have holes? THIS is what I'm working with now. And THIS is [one of the reasons] why mornings suck.

This morning, for example, Ryan had a full-throw-yourself-on-your-bed-and-scream temper-tantrum. Last year she had those because I suggested that she wear jeans. Today she had one because I DIDN'T suggest that she wear jeans. Luckily, I believe that since she is so terrible about this now, she won't be so bad as a teenager. THIS is what keeps me going--please don't ruin it for me. I think I need to start drinking. Now.

How trashy ARE we?!

There's a toaster oven in my front yard. It's been there since Sunday. Today is TUESDAY. Yes, I am master of the obvious.

[NEW PARAGRAPH--See--I can learn!]

Where was I? Oh yeah--Tuesday. Toaster Oven. Here's the thing--most human beings don't store their household appliances in their front yards (driveway to be exact). Of course, non-human beings don't HAVE household appliances (or HOUSES for that matter) to store ANYWHERE, but that's a conversation for a later date. OUR toaster oven is in the front yard because on Sunday morning, it fought back.

The T.O. (that's what I'm calling it, though probably not consistently--fair warning!) is not even a year old--my son bought it for me for Christmas last year (or, my son made my husband buy it for me...you get it) and he was SOOOO pleased with himself. The toaster we were using burnt everything and looked like it would blow up at any time. It only "popped" when it felt like it, and then it would only do it when we least expected it to. THEN it would shoot the bread out at us like a soldier combatting enemy fire. That toaster needed to be put down for good. It never spent any time in the front yard.

The thing is, I don't particularly LIKE toaster ovens. If I want to toast my toast in an oven, I'll use THE OVEN. My son, however, was so very proud of his purchase--there was (and IS) no way I was going to tell him that I didn't absolutely LOVE it. I don't really use it too often. Half the time we have things piled on top of it (which never seems to phase my husband who goes right on toasting with the papers on top waiting to catch fire) and it is under the cabinets which are just DYING to go down in flames. I've even cleaned it a few times (which I can't really say about the demon toaster we '"let go" last year). Which leads me to WHY it is in the front yard.

On Sunday morning I decided to use the T.O. I took everything off the top, cleared the counters around it, put the bread in and turned the button to the "toast the toast" picture. I was in the middle of a psychotic episode over how many people were following my blog, so when the beeper went off, I thought I would just leave it and warm it up if I needed to when I finished "blogging." That IS what I'm doing, right? Blogging? We'll get into "tweeting" another day. Anyway, seconds later, the smoke detector "detected" a problem and when I ran to see, the T.O. was ON FIRE. I called to my husband who was frantically opening and closing the door to get the smoke out (he just assumed I had burnt another meal). I didn't panic, which kind of worried me--I mean, wouldn't you panic if there was a fire in front of you?  I simply watched the toast melt in the flames that engulfed the inside of the oven and calmly asked, "Well, what should we do?" The answer? Unplug it and take it out to the front yard where it will sit until...?

I feel like we put the T.O. in time out (HA-T.O. in T.O. get it? I need a life!) because it was naughty. It did after all try to KILL us. The last toaster went right to the garbage and that was it, but this one is forced to face the shame of sitting in the driveway where all of the neighbors can see how BAD it was. Either that, or I have to face the fact that we are now white trash and the inside of our house is now throwing up on the outside of our house. WE are the people who just don't get around to picking up ANYTHING around our house--the people who make homeowner's associations crawl into the fetal position and rock back and forth. Some of you may have even BEEN in our homeowner's association, so YOU know. I'd much prefer to think that we haven't yet come up with an appropriate punishment for our T.O. and when we do...we'll probably bring it to the BACK yard. It will blend in with the broken grill and deflated pool toys. At least then there won't be a toaster in my front yard.