If it was good enough for Art...

Our Christmas tree is still up in our living room. I know you are not surprised--anyone with a toaster in their front yard for ANY amount of time is DEFINITELY going to be lax when it comes to taking down the Christmas decorations. The thing is, it isn't up because we are lazy--it's up because we LIKE it.

All of the other decorations (including our other tree--yes, we have two--it's a long story and I am afraid that I am incapable of making it funny OR interesting, so we will just leave it at that) were put away the day after The Feast of the Three kings (the Epiphany), but we truly enjoyed having the tree up and neither one of us wants to take it down yet.

About three years ago, we were living in Montana next door to my dear friend Art. Some of my readers know about Art from facebook and SOME of my readers may even be RELATED to Art (unless those readers were scared away by my crazy ramblings...). Art was a great neighbor and friend, though that last year we lived in Montana, his health started to deteriorate. I tried to stop by as often as possible without being considered a stalker and tried to get him to let me do stuff (clean the kitchen, get him dinner) for him,but he usually refused my help and we would just relax and chat. One morning in February, I asked Art if he wanted me to take down his Christmas tree.

 "Why would you want to do THAT?! he asked me. "I'm an old man and I LIKE the Christmas tree. I think it looks pretty and I WANT to see it every day. Do YOU think I should take it down?"
"Absolutely NOT!" I replied. "Good for you--it DOES look pretty and if you want it up, it should stay!"
"Well, you never know how many more Christmas trees I will see--I could go at any time you know!"
"Yeah--well so could I--but until that time, at least you will enjoy your Christmas tree!"

Art passed away this last July and I am pretty sure the Christmas tree was shining brightly in his living room that day--at least I HOPE it was. I tend to feel that Art's theory about the Christmas tree was right--it IS beautiful and why SHOULDN'T we keep it up all year? I know we will probably cave and pack up the tree some time before July, but until then I will think of Art and how happy HIS tree made HIM--every month of the year.

Carpe...well--just CARPE!

My friends Debbie and Kelly each  posted the same article on facebook that I LOVED--let's be honest--MOST things I read on facebook I LOVE! Generally speaking, my friends are FUNNY and have witty, thoughtful and insightful things to say.  This particular article was written by  mom blogger, Glennon Melton for The Huffington Post and she talked about the whole "Carpe Diem" (live for the day) thing. Being a fan of The Dead Poet's Society and a recovering English teacher, I have fallen prey to the "Carpe Diem" mentality at many junctures in my life, yet after having my babies, the mom guilt goes into fast forward mode whenever a well-meaning stranger (or nosy family member) reminds ME to cherish every moment when I clearly AM NOT enjoying ANY moment.


In the article, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/glennon-melton/dont-carpe-diem_b_1206346.html?view=screen&ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false, Glennon Melton hilariously captures the feelings of exasperation when people point out--usually during the most trying times as a parent--that you are going to "...miss this one day..." Melton uses humor to encompass the feelings parents have when others push this mentality on them. She states:


I know that this message is right and good. But, I have finally allowed myself to admit that it just doesn't work for me. It bugs me. This CARPE DIEM message makes me paranoid and panicky. Especially during this phase of my life - while I'm raising young kids. Being told, in a million different ways to CARPE DIEM makes me worry that if I'm not in a constant state of intense gratitude and ecstasy, I'm doing something wrong.


I so agree with her and laugh to think of all of the defensive parents getting, "...paranoid and panicky...) when strangers (even if the stranger is Robin Williams) remind them how to live. I am DEFINITELY one of those parents (see http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/12/crazy-russian-biker-mobster-dude.html)--we tend to think that every time we get unsolicited advice from strangers it is because we suck as much as we think we do.  

I try to cut people off now before they can tell me about WHAT I am going to miss:


Stranger: "Ohhhh--you--"
Me: "I KNOW--I am SO going to miss the feeling of wanting to strangle them some day! Of course, NOW I am missing the one time they actually BEHAVED at the store...tee hee..." or "I keep trying to remind myself that   before I know it, I will be longing for the days when my children drove me crazy at Target (isn't it ALWAYS Target?!), but right now I just.Want. It. To. Stop."


Melton compares child rearing to climbing Everest and speaks of  the fact that well meaning strangers don't make a habit of yelling "ARE YOU ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT..." and "DON'T FORGET TO CARPE DIEM..." to other people at THEIR jobs. She reminds us that parenting is hard enough without the added pressure of  being sure to enjoy EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.  Isn't it enough that we are trying our best to raise self-confident, well-adjusted, healthy eating, law-abiding, happy little people? Now we have to be sure to do it with our hearts and minds full of joy or it doesn't count.


My favorite line reads:


Anyway. Clearly, Carpe Diem doesn't work for me. I can't even carpe fifteen minutes in a row, so a whole diem is out of the question.

Every time I think about it I laugh. Even while I was typing it I was giggling. BECAUSE IT IS FUNNY! The problem is, when something makes me laugh that much, I want to steal it and use it as my own. Not in a plagiarizing sort of way, but in a "This is so funny that it is now considered common knowledge, so EVERYONE is allowed to say it WHENEVER they want [to say it]" sort of way.

Check out Melton's article--I am still laughing at some of her words and her honesty is refeshing. I know how honest I'VE been on here and sometimes think I should start writing fiction, but reading her article reminded me that we are all the same--just trying to do right by our children and to limit the mistakes and guilt throughout our journey. Carpe THAT well meaning strangers...

He NEVER Ceases to amaze me (SUCH a parent thing to say...)!

Seven children at Alvin and the Chipmunks couldn't have gone smoother! When my big eight-year-old delivered the cake to all of the guests (or I SHOULD say "After he INSISTED that he deliver the cake to his guests), he stopped me from wrapping it and INSISTED that we needed "...just ONE MORE piece! MOMMY--just cut ONE MORE piece!" I argued with him that everyone was fed, so he should sit down and eat HIS (eggless) treat. He was adamant and I finally wondered why I was fighting with him.I cut and handed him the extra piece and he handed it back to me. 'YOU didn't get any cake and YOU planned this great party!" I love my boy.

I seriously need a straightjacket...

How extreme can one child be? Seriously, I don't even know how he does it. Brayden calls me up to his room tonight because he has"...a few questions that I know the answers to, but YOU don't know the answers to." Always with the mystery, that one, but I let him have his moment--it was obviously REALLY important to him.

As I'm sitting on the bed with him, my sweet boy couldn't be cuter. His eyes are huge and brown surrounded by those lashes and he had the most innocent expression as he asked, "What do you think is the BEST gift you've ever given me?" Now I know what guilt trip I WANTED to throw at him, but I thought I would just let him be an eight-year-old for a few minutes.
"I don't know--your DS? No--wait--Santa brought you that. What about your skateboard? No--Grandma and Grandpa bought that for you. Pillow Pet? Nope--Nonnie and Bobpa. Have I ever bought you ANYTHING?! I don't know..."

Now the little bug is laughing at this point as he tells me, "You are WAAAAAAYYYY off, Mommy! The FIRST best thing you ever gave me was having me born and the NEXT best thing you ever gave me was LOVE and the THIRD best thing you ever gave me was hugs and kisses and the FOURTH thing I love the most is my DS. But that IS from Santa. It's okay though--you give me A LOT of things. Like DINNER, right?!"
He really can be the SWEETEST boy--I know that seems hard to comprehend, given the stories I've been telling recently, but  he REALLY is sometimes. On Sunday we went to the Dollar Store to get some things for his birthday party (tomorrow). It turns out this particular store only takes certain types of debit and credit cards, so we had to put most of the stuff back.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie!" I said as I combed the hair back from his eyes. "I will try to come back this week with the money to get everything else."
"That's okay, Mommy--we don't NEED that stuff! I'm lucky I'm even having a party!"
The woman behind the recipe nearly dropped what she was holding.
"Is he for real?!" she asked.
"Oh--yes he is," I replied, remembering the MANY times throughout his eight years that he has said, "That's okay, Mommy--I'm just lucky to have_________!" and he really means it when he says it.

The woman said repeatedly that he made her day and she repeated the story to all who would listen. THESE are the moments I need to focus on and share with others. THESE are the things I should cling to when my son is yelling at me and misbehaving. I'll remember that when we are getting ready for school in the morning. Maybe it will prevent me from leaving WITHOUT him tomorrow...

AWESOME BABIES!

I remember when Brayden was a baby. He was an AMAZING baby. Don't get me wrong--I didn't know it at the time, but he was seriously the BEST BABY. EVER. He was also my WORLD. I was so enamored with those little fingers and toes and those ridiculously long lashes that a girl would NEVER be lucky enough to have. I used to just take pictures and videos of him for HOURS. THAT is what I did with my time as a SAHM. I would dress him in ALL of the cute outfits that people inevitably give to a first time mom and I would take pictures. Like when I was six with my "MY FRIEND MANDY" doll--only with a photo-op. And a...vide-op (I KNOW that isn't a thing, but I am going to coin the term. Just go with it).

Having Brayden didn't cramp my style (WHAT style, you ask? Oh--I had STYLE!) at all. I went everywhere and did everything I had done BEFORE having a baby (I guess I was P-R-E-T-T-Y boring THEN!), only now I had to leave occasionally because of leaky breast milk. Okay--so THAT was a style-cramper, but I still went to the social events! I didn't let a few wet shirts keep me out of the loop! Some would be embarrassed to show their faces again after leaving a house with two enormous wet circles running down the fronts of their shirts, but not THIS trooper. Oh no--I had NOOOOOO problem going back. And investing in an extra few sets of nursing pads.

True, part of the reason was because my friends were so welcoming and accepting of the whole...baby thing. They all had gone through it before and even my friend Tom Jones (Yes--his name IS Tom Jones and I do believe his wife had him serenade us once after one (EIGHT) too many cocktails...NOT the same.), who prides himself on mocking me scoffed at the fact that I would be embarrassed about leaky breasts (yes--I said BREASTS.  You'll be fine.). "What's the big deal? You have a BABY. That's what HAPPENS." Tom ROCKS. Just don't tell him I said so.

I think that having the "job" of loving and spending time with my baby full time was so amazing to me. For the first time since I was sixteen, I had NOTHING ELSE to do. Why WOULDN"T I love everything about this new job? I get to stay in my comfy clothes and all I have to do is PLAY--ALL DAY. It was perfect. Only I didn't KNOW it was perfect ALL the time.

I remember thinking it was SO HARD to get up every few hours to FEED him. When other mothers would talk about getting up at night, I would FULLY commiserate, not realizing that THEIR babies would get up and STAY up. Half the time I would get Brayden and fall asleep while feeding him (even though ALL of the parenting magazines said that this was a BIG no-no. I didn't see any of THEM offering to get up to feed for me...just sayin'...). It was the same with Ryan (I'll tell her story another day). I didn't realize that I did NOT understand what all of those other parents were going through until I was pregnant with Addison. My aunt said to me, "You'd better watch it--one of these days you are going to get a REAL baby!" Luckily, Addison was great, too! Of course, they are all making me pay NOW, but I think I've covered that  sufficiently.

I think that EVERY mother (and even some fathers) get some version of the baby blues (much to the dismay of Tom Cruise. Jerk.). you have your run of the mill "I am going to drive off of a bridge and everyone will read about it in People Magazine" kind, Your "What is this creature that just came out of me--there is NO WAY I am going near it!" kind and your "I just love this baby and my life so why am I feeling so down?" kind. I fell into category three. I think that my version may not have been solely from having the baby, it may have had a lot to do with the fact that for the first time in over ten years I had nowhere to be. I had a similar feeling the first time I only had ONE job and the first summer when I didn't work AT ALL.  I had been used to working three and four jobs and suddenly I had DOWN time. I had heard of this concept before, but never TRULY believed that it existed. It was WONDERFUL! Only, with down time comes time to think and thinking is NEVER good--especially when you aren't good at it.

I suddenly had the time to obsess over EVERYTHING. Was I doing everything right? Would my baby feel loved? Would it REALLY harm him terribly if I allow him to drink milk with hormones (I know, right?!)? I was (and still am to some degree) ridiculous. I swore I would NEVER speak to my sweet baby boy in a harsh tone (refer to http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/11/ive-decided-that-instead-of-making-to.html for the ENTIRE list of "never"s--or at least the ones I thought of THAT day) and I would ALWAYS  make sure that he felt heard. What's that saying? We make plans and God laughs? Well God must be roaring up there over me!

I remember talking to veteran parents (my aunt, my mom, the lady at the grocery store...) and in retrospect I can see them biting their tongues and smirking at all of my "knowledge" as a first time parent (because I of course felt it necessary to SHARE all of my theories. OY!). I can remember going to play groups or hanging out with friends who had older children and thinking things like, "Maybe if she wouldn't yell so much, they would listen..." "Should I TELL her that consistency is key when disciplining children?" and (my favorite) "I wonder if she knows that you shouldn't yell out empty threats--especially when it deals with spanking. I'm not one of those "against spanking" people. I taught middle school. AND high school. I have MET children who needed to be spanked when they were younger and I have SEEN what happens to them when they are not. Of course, spanking should DEFINITELY be reserved for those horrible times when the child runs out into traffic or the child threatens to KILL you or something--this way it MEANS something...I wonder if she knows all of this?" All of this while my baby slept soundly (or looked around curiously) in his little car seat. Just a sidebar--my babies LIVED in their car seats. Half the time I would go to people's houses and leave the child by the front door like a bag of groceries. They RARELY complained, and I figured, if they aren't complaining, why bother them? I'm CERTAIN people were appalled at my behavior. I also let everyone take the baby so that I could visit. I learned early on that everyone WANTED to hold the baby and since I spent ALL OF MY TIME with my babies, why WOULDN'T I pass them on at parties? of course, from THEIR perspective I was the mother who either left her child in the foyer to be forgotten all night or I was giving my babies away all the time. Nice parenting. It's a good thing I knew so much.

It did concern me at one point--we were at a friend's house and I had to run home for something for their party. As I approached their house, I saw a group of people in their back yard. One woman was holding a baby that looked EXACTLY like mine. I felt a little like I did when an ex-boyfriend cheated on me and I saw him at a party with another girl. Only this was worse. I'm not sure why--obviously if this woman is at the party, SOMEONE knows her, right? Still, it felt weird that a stranger was bouncing my baby around, but why wouldn't she? I had left the baby (almost too) willingly, so it would stand to reason that SOMEONE would take over parenting duties. Why SHOULDN'T it be someone I've never met? I remember wanting desperately to yank the baby out of her arms, but then reminded myself that I was not a psycho. INSTEAD, I introduced myself to this extremely nice woman (who now has three babies of her own I hear through the grapevine. Sucker!) and thanked her for taking such good care of my baby. We continued to chat until someone else begged to have the baby leaving me wondering if there was something SERIOUSLY wrong with me. I think we ALL know the answer to THAT.

Lucky for me, I had Marcia. Marcia is the greatest no-nonsense, low-maintenance, least dramatic,would-do-anything-for-anybody friend I could have had--especially during my RIDICULOUS days as a new parent. Marcia did things like feed my daughter blue icing when she was six months old, gave EVERY child of mine loud instruments to bang on or whistle through and MADE SURE we let them be heard and visited and read to my children on a regular basis. She (and her Mike) were the grandparents that were unable to visit regularly and were the voices of reason in a time of insanity. Marcia made sure I knew that having children meant having a messy house. That loving and having fun with my babes was more precious than having a clean floor or an organized pantry.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Sorry--I couldn't help myself. I think of all of my college (and grad school) friends and former roommates and those people who met me AFTER my children were ALL toddling and walking and DESTROYING EVERYTHING and I read this through THEIR eyes and I laugh. I think of the people who have NEVER come to my house and NOT left with some sort of food on their feet. I think of those people who met me when I no longer HAD a pantry and I laugh. These people probably cannot even IMAGINE me with a clean house! *sigh* I actually LIKED my clean house...

Sorry! Where was I? Oh--MarciandMike. At Christmas time, Marcia would show up and tell us to go Christmas shopping. She wouldn't take no for an answer and I KNEW how blessed I was to have her. When times were tight (which unfortunately lasted...well, it is STILL lasting!), she would come over and tell us to go on a date. Mike would get down on the floor and play with my kids--cars, Legos, coloring--whatever my children requested, the two of them would do. Marcia would remind me of how important my marriage was--even if it wasn't on MY priority list--or my husband's--and that I wasn't doing ANYONE any good if I forgot that which is why she INSISTED that we go on dates. This woman is full of so much wisdom and kindness--something we ALL could use in our lives and I often think about new mothers: "Wow--SHE could really use a Marcia!" Hell, I could really use a Marcia now! Lucky for Marcia, we moved away so she can focus all of her wisdom and kindness on her new baby grandtwins (I know--I'm coining that, too...). It's a good thing HER daughter isn't like a lot of new mothers--she is prepared for the blue-frosting incidents and welcomes them! Hopefully she will listen to and hear the words that her mother says--then she won't have to write a fifteen page blog about how crazy she was as a new parent in seven years!

My Brayden will be EIGHT on Saturday. EIGHT. It was HIS second birthday party that held the infamous blue frosting incident of '06. I remember the craziness of that Thomas party (Crazy because I always invite WAAAYYY too many people--but I always know REALLY nice and fun people and I want them to be a part of things! Don't worry--Kate was there to help! See http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/12/fight-for-your-right-tothrow-my-party.html), I remember his HUGE brown eyes and his obvious excitement with everything around him. He was the friendliest most easy-going two-year-old EVER, my sweet Brayden and that boy is still in there. He's just always been advanced, so recently he is acting like a teenager--nothing we can't work through as a family. With maybe a little therapy. And some whine wine--we'll DEFINITELY need wine.

Let the ranting begin...

DISCLAIMER: I LOVE my children and do not (really) believe that ANY child should be harmed emotionally or physically EVER. Unless I am working on the most severe  migraine EVER after little to no sleep and said child is pushing and pushing...THIS is yesterday's rant, thank goodness, because this migraine is almost preventing me from lifting my head. Good times...


Tuesday, January 10--the saga begins...
4:15...A.M.:  "Of course I will run away with you, Brad Pitt " (he's too much of a "children are wonderful and let's have twenty more of them" for THIS dream) hot guy from Grey's Anatomy...Mark...Sloan. Yeah...Mark Sloan.  I KNOW he has a REAL name, but do I care right now?

"OF COURSE I will run away with you MARK McDreamy (or is he McSteamy? Does it matter?!)! We'll go to a place where NO ONE cries or yells, where fattening foods make you LOSE weight and where going to the gym is frowned upon. If you want to get sexier, just eat another candy bar or ice cream sundae. H-O-T!

4:20 A.M.: "Oh no...I couldn't possibly do THAT, Mark Sloan. I'm marri----"
BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM! "MOOOOOOOMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!"BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM! Blahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahblahcrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycry    (and that's ME not HIM) crycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycrycry!


"WHAT?! STOP YELLING AND COME IN!"
"I didn't want to wake everyone up."







"REALLY?!"
"YES. Geesh. There's something wrong with my hand. It feels tingly."




(If you are wondering what these breaks in the page are, I am PAUSING here. I OFTEN...PAUSE for effect after Brayden speaks to me because I find what he says to be...funny. Sometimes "funny-ha- ha" and sometimes "funny-are you KIDDING me right now? You DIDN'T WANT TO WAKE EVERYONE UP?! THAT'S why you tried to bang down the door and were SCREAMING at the top of your lungs?! REALLY?!" but I don't want to scream like the lunatic I am, so I pause instead. For effect.)



Okay. I need you to understand that this happens EVERY night. It is ALWAYS something. I KNOW I wouldn't mind being pulled from WHATEVER dream I may be in each night if there was EVER an emergency, but THERE IS NEVER AN EMERGENCY! I truly do not think I can take it anymore. I know I discussed this in http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/12/children-of-mass-destruction.html and I know it is only a part of his strategy to finally conquer me, but I told you--I WAVED the white flag. SO WHY IS THIS STILL HAPPENING?!

"Did it feel numb first?"
"Yes."
"It's asleep. Your hand is asleep. Unlike ME at four thirty in the morning, your HAND gets to SLEEP. Now go to bed."
"You don't have to be so mean--how was I supposed to know? Geesh. You don't even CARE about me..." stompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompstompSLAM!




(again...pausing...)




4:58:  "MOMMMMMMA! MOMMMMMMA! Bwyaden wowoke me up!"
CRYCRYCRYCRYCRYCRYCRYCRYCRY! (again--that's ME) Get up and check on her before EVERYONE is up.
"Addison, go back to sleep--it's fine."
"No--I wawant to seeeppwiff YOU!"
"No, Addie, you need to sleep in your own bed."
"NOOOOO! Why do I hafffftoooo?!"
Why indeed! Why am I up fighting about this when I could be cuddling with the child peacefully (as peacefully as possible with her foot up my nose) in my own bed. Stand firm--"I'm sorry, honey--you'll be fine. I love you!" This went in circles for about forty minutes--I won't subject you to any more of it.

5:40: It feels so GOOD to finally fall into bed again. I'm exhausted. Being this exhausted, one would think that falling back to sleep would take seconds. One would be wrong. 5:53.  6:08.  6:23.
"BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!"

I'm not sure, but I think I suffered TWO minor heart attacks today. When Brayden came barreling into my Mark Sloan dream and now. I rarely hear my husband's alarm, but luckily today he had to get up earlier than usual and it went off SECONDS after I fell asleep. YAY ME.

7:10: "MOMMMMMY!" SHAKESHAKESHAKESHAKESHAKE! " Brayden says that I am NOT allowed to chew his gum! MOMMMMMY--WAKE UP!"

"Really? REALLY? REALLY?! FIRST of all, WHERE did Brayden GET gum, SECOND OF ALL, WHO said that EITHER of you could eat it and LASTLY--WHY WOULD YOU THINK IT IS OKAY TO WAKE ME UP OVER SUCH NONSENSE?!"

"I KNOOOOOOWWWW--GEESH. FIIIIINE.  You don't even CARE about me." STOMPSTOMPSTOMPSTOMPSTOMP SLAM!

I think there was no gum. They spent the last thirty minutes strategizing. I'm not sure if the little one was in on it or not, but I know their plan:
 THIS is the trick. Get her too tired to have ANY idea what is going on and throw nonsensical words at her. She will think that SHE is crazy (which, let's be honest, she is at LEAST on her way, if not camped out in Crazy Town as we speak) and in turn, she will let us do WHATEVER we want.

Well, it is DEFINITELY working. The crazy part anyway.

"Are you ready for school?"
"YES--GEESH--I TOLD you that already!"
"You have ALL of your books in your bag?"
"YEEEEESSSSS! I did it last night like  you told me to."
"Get your sneakers and socks on and get your coat, hat and mittens."
"IIIIII  KNOOOOOWWWW." (Why isn't someone BEATING this child? Because they will take him AWAY from me? For how long?)
Do you, though? DO YOU KNOW? Because after saying these words forty-seven times and meeting with such obvious disdain, I would really rather not have to revisit it.
The two homeless girls I call my daughters are as dressed as they are going to be (no offense to the homeless--they dress in whatever they can find to stay warm and healthy. My daughters dress in whatever they can find that will match the least and will be the smallest and rattiest.) and head out the door. Focus on Brayden. The child who "....KNOOOOOOOOWWWW"s what he needs to do and has done it--only he hasn't. DONE it. Or ANYTHING I asked him to do. Girls in car, Brayden STANDING on the coffee table. Shoeless. Sockless. BOOKLESS. But he DOES have on gloves. At least he's helpful.

THIS is the same child who tells his teacher that he is late every day because of the GIRLS. He has the audacity to ROLL HIS EYES and SIGH about how crazy our mornings are because of THE GIRLS. At this point I have to talk myself down from the ledge. THIS is why we hear stories of poor children harmed by mean and angry grown ups who should be locked up for good. I always wondered what those horrible people were thinking to harm a sweet child. NOW I know. "I get to smack the s&^% out of this little brat AND go somewhere to sleep a solid five hours (AT LEAST) and eat a meal (of ANY kind) that wasn't prepared by ME?! Sign me up!"

Oh--I  know you are all thinking that I am a horrible person and I FEEL like a horrible person right now, but you cannot deny that you have had the flicker in your brain before--ESPECIALLY if you have a sassy-mouthed child who has simply won. At this point, there is nothing (rational) I can do, so I simply say, "I am leaving. You are welcome to come with me, but I am DONE" and walk out the door, leaving it slightly ajar for him to follow. Only he DOES NOT follow. I turn the car on and tell thing one and thing two to buckle up please. They both start to cry. "What about BRAYDEN, MOMMA?! We can't LEAVE him!" This from the child Brayden throws under the bus no fewer than ten times a day.

"I don't ylike da way I feewul ywight now, Momma! I don WAAANTA yeave Byaden awlone! Who wiwull take CAWER of him?! I don ylike you so unhappy, Momma! I don feewul happy in my HEART!"

Oh, Addie! I don't feel happy in MY heart, either! Still nothing from the house (unless you count the slamming of the door). He of course is calling my bluff. Like he has done for AT LEAST four of his almost eight years. I obviously can't LEAVE him. Of course, I can't NOT leave him now. The girls are now wailing and I feel like the biggest child abuser ever. "Pwease, no, MOMMA" is flying around the car  and my head is going to EXPLODE. I pull down the driveway, hoping the child will at least poke his head out the door. Nothing. I inch around the corner (we are on a corner lot) so that I can turn the car around, but can still see the house. I finally decide that I will pick him up and CARRY him to the car and he will be in his room after school. This seems reasonable (thinks the mother who stormed out of her house because her almost-eight-year-old won again--because "reasonable" is her strong suit...). I get out of the car and open the door to my bawling son throwing himself into my arms. THIS is how Jerry Springer makes his money.

YAY ME! AGAIN...

So, http://mommaliciousmom.blogspot.com/2012/01/liebster-blog-award.html nominated me for the Liebster Award and I couldn't be more flattered! The initial blog I wrote today is very...yelly...and angry, so I don't feel very worthy of an award. I think I covered most of my feelings about mornings in http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/12/children-of-mass-destruction.html, http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/thing-is-mornings-around-here.html,
http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/so-today-it-was-braydens-turn.html, and
http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/10/soveryt-i-r-e-d.html.  I am sure I covered this topic in MANY more posts, but these are the four that stood out. My post today was even...mean. It essentially discussed my horrible night and similar morning. This morning was worse than most, however, and my ridiculousness with honesty may lead you all to call DYPHS. Don't worry--no one was actually HARMED in the making of the blog OR in the actual nighttime/morning routine, but I have to say it came close.

Let's not talk about sad and aggravating things right now. Let's instead focus on ME--I mean--this AWARD! The idea of the Liebster Award is to get the word out about blogs you love to read and http://mommaliciousmom.blogspot.com/2012/01/liebster-blog-award.html was nice enough to nominate ME!

The rules of this award are as follows:

1. Show your thanks to the blogger who nominated you by linking back to their blog. A HUGE thank you to http://mommaliciousmom.blogspot.com/2012/01/liebster-blog-award.html !

2. Nominate five other happy little blogs (200 followers or less) by posting a comment on their blogs. 


3. Post the award on your blog. (THIS may take me a while...Remember what happened LAST time? http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/12/ive-been-slacking-bit-on-blog-lately-i.html)  It wasn't pretty, but my dear friend from http://designherbrands.blogspot.com/ and http://adoredbefore.blogspot.com/ saved the day for me ONCE AGAIN and posted my award. I wonder if she will save me again...cricket...cricket...

4. Check out what the other up-and-coming blogs have to offer.
This one is really hard for me because there are SO MANY great blogs out there! I feel like I've found so many people like me (frightening thought, I suppose!)  who when all is said and done, just want to be able to laugh. THANK YOU to all of the great bloggers out there who help me to realize that I am NOT alone! 


1. OBVIOUSLY http://adoredbefore.blogspot.com/ and  http://designherbrands.blogspot.com/ are on the list, though I don't think they should count as number one (so I can have room for others!) because they are just A GIVEN. Let's start again...

1.http://www.alittlelucidity.com/ Lucy coined me her "Sistah from another Mistah" when we first "met through our blogs, and I couldn't agree more! We have even been known to type the same thoughts simultaneously (it would seem)! Since we both are so adamantly against plagiarism, it is surprising that so much of our material is the same, but I do believe we share a brain!


2.http://www.perspectiveparenting.com/2012/01/08/the-advanced-degree-of-life/#comments She is always so in tune with what we ALL are going through with this parenting thing. Her latest post about being an expert on things is AWESOME and MUST be read by EVERYONE!

3. http://shopnserve.blogspot.com/ is my dear friend Amber's blog and it is AMAZING! She shares yummy recipes, but more than that, she helps you to organize your life in the kitchen and to save money in the process.

4.http://lilycontadino.blogspot.com/  Mom Next Door tells some hilarious tales about her life as a mom. Her newest one involves handcuffs...and http://www.stowedstuff.com/ also puts her readers at ease.

5.    http://sweetmiasdesserts.wordpress.com my incredibly talented friend Kate makes the YUMMIEST desserts (and at Katie J. Designs, she also makes American Girl Doll clothes, fashionable headbands...check her out!) There are SO MANY OTHERS...those I named in http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/12/ive-been-slacking-bit-on-blog-lately-i.html) (there may be a repeat or two!) some syndicated (who KNEW, right?) some not, but if I could make more hours in the day, I would spend them reading the ridiculous amount of blogs that are out there because they are FAN-TASTIC!  I am unable to look at all of my faves every day, but I try to get to each of them at least once a week.  Stephanie of Gumdrop Pass  has a sweet blog about her adventures (right now) with potty training (and a nice letter to 2012) and  Swanky Baby's Mom is also jumping into potty training,  Naked Mommy is always good for laughs and I love her honesty and  I love, love LOVE Samantha at Have Sippy Will Travel.  There are too many to list and I do not want to slight anyone, so I just want you (in ALL of your spare time!) to check out the fun blogs that are out there--just don't forget about mine! If I ever get another award (which I'm thinking if I post the rant I wrote this morning, THAT won't be happening any time soon...) I will definitely list some other great ones Thanks again to http://mommaliciousmom.blogspot.com/2012/01/liebster-blog-award.html for thinking of me--I hope you all get a chance to read her blog! If I ever get another award (which I'm thinking if I post the rant I wrote this morning, THAT won't be happening any time soon...) I will definitely list some other great ones

Don't leave me blogless

I am so annoyed right now. Really, I am. FIRST of all, my computer (you remember--the crabby one who decided to shut down on me over the holidays and then DESERTED me (leaving me blogless--THAT sounds like a great idea for a song, doesn't it?! "...leaving me BLOG-GLESS, BLOG-GLESS..." Of course, my judgment  could be clouded by the fact that I have spent the last few weeks listening to a five and six-year-old duet of "...leaving me lOOOOOnly--OOOOOnly...'cuz you don't know a THIIIIING A-bout MEEUH...you don't know a THIIIIIING A-bout me..."which is SO MUCH BETTER than the alternative                             " (somethingsomethingsomething) BEER! (Somethingsomethingsomething SOMETHING. Something something yeah yeah), boys trytotouchmy junk, junk..." Clearly I need to heed the ratings of the music my children are rocking out to these days. I'm not sure that there is anything more disturbing than watching my sweet little beauties shaking their hips while talking about their "junk..." (Thanks Kesha) and having enough beer. Just working on this year's MOTY award...

Anyway, my computer "left me blogless..." it has a nice rhythm, no?) and facebookless and words with friendsless all last week and NOW it is being crabby AGAIN. The last few days it prevented me from commenting on other blogs (which I like to do to show my support to all of the great bloggers out there--I want to introduce them all to each other--like my facebookfriend party I mentioned in my earlier blogs. I think everyone would get along so well!  Except there may be a REASON we hide behind the computer...right...the COMPUTER. So today it won't even let me comment on MY OWN blog. GRRRR. I had about ELEVEN different stories I was going to tell today, but I am hung up on my rage (yes, I was going to say "...against the machine...," but I know how DORKY I would have to be to say that. And to say dorky.) toward the computer. NOW my battery is at 7% and I am without a plug! I'm not really WITHOUT a plug, it is just UPstairs and I am DOWNstairs and I just got back from the gym and I am listening to Addison read Red Hat, Blue Hat for the fifteenth time and I am SO okay with it as long as I don't have to move. I think this is a sign that I need to clean Saturday's dishes or dig through last week's laundry. Or take a nap...if the COMPUTER can take a nap, shouldn't I be allowed to?! Maybe we will BOTH wake up less crabby...

Words with Friends...AND family...

I have a problem. Well, technically I have A LOT of problems, but this is a NEW problem. I think we can all agree that I am on the computer WAAAAAAAY too much (as evidenced by my frequent references to facebook--acting as though it is another limb-- and by the incessant blog posts and comments I make more regularly than I do anything else), though I decided to take a break for the holidays. I came to this decision after I heard my son say, "Well, Mommy probably won't play with us 'cause she'll be on the computer the whole time!" Ouch.

Let me tell you a little something about my son. My son is a fighter. He is able to manipulate ANY situation to his liking--something he has been able to do since...I don't know...BIRTH. He hears EVERYTHING and misses NOTHING. That said, I am QUITE certain he heard (hears!) my husband and I...discussing...my computer usage on several occasions. My husband (legitimately, I believe) thinks that I should finish my "work--HA!" on the computer before everyone gets home. I try my best to do that, but since our computer is all we brought with us from the dinosaur era, IT has different plans usually. We might as well have--dare I say it?! DIAL UP with as fast as our computer "moves!" I swear, you look up three things and seven hours are GONE.  It is madness. My husband "heard" and "saw" my complaint (This is SOOOO funny if you watch Parenthood--if you don't, it is probably REALLY dumb. Of course, you SHOULD watch Parenthood--LOVE it! Anyway, Coach (who plays the dad) learned in therapy that when his wife speaks he should say, "I hear you and I see you." H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S!  What's funnier is the fact that this particular episode aired over a year ago and we continue to say this phrase to each other. It even makes me giggle right now. Another funny thing is the fact that we heard at least three other couples we know say those same words to each other to mimic the show. F-U-N-N-Y stuff!) ANYWAY...back to my son. He really only needed to hear us talk about it ONCE and sense the guilt and fear of being a bad mom in me ONE TIME to use this against me. I KNOW it is happening, yet I cannot stop it, nor will I stand up to the behavior. Mainly because I myself feel like I am on WAAAAYYY too much. So, my son may be a punk, but he IS on to something.

THIS is why I decided to stay off of the computer (for the most part) for the holidays. This proved to be QUITE a shame, as there are SOOOOO many great stories to tell during the holidays and my ADD does not allow for me to remember and record them all. I decided that I would "catch up" on all of my computer needs on the Tuesday after I dropped the last child off at school. Not a big deal, right? What was it--a WEEK? SURELY I could go A WEEK without using the computer. Two problems with this plan--friends of ours gave me their old iPod (TOUCH!) and my husband gave me a KINDLE (I CANNOT EXPLAIN HOW HAPPY THESE TWO THINGS MAKE ME! I HOPE THE CAPITAL LETTERS GIVE YOU SOME IDEA!) So on New Year's Day (or maybe the Monday after...) I broke down and got on the computer so that I could use my Kindle and iPod. Of course, any time I do ANYTHING on the computer, I travel via facebook--doesn't EVERYONE?! After a week there was at least an hour of activity needed on my account, but I ignored most some NONE of it and remained on the computer for two hours.

Before I deserted my dear friend facebook  exited out of the program, I noticed that one of my facebook friends (who also works at my daughter's school) "challenged" me to a game. This is usually not a problem with me--I ignore all of the games, pokes, mafia hits-LONGING-whatever extra distractions that are set up on facebook (this is due to one very long day in Montana when I spent THE ENTIRE DAY "kissing" "hugging" "poking" and "planting" for my facebook friends, while completely neglecting my family...and actual human friends. That proved problematic to me and after that day I ignored all requests (at the risk of fb friends feeling sad and neglected--they seemed to get over it!). For some reason, I decided to look at and accept her challenge, which brings me to my problem.

The game of which I speak is "Words With Friends" and some of you know it VERY well. Some of you may even have challenged me (though I have about ten games going right now--is that even POSSIBLE?! What is WRONG with me?!) to a game or two and you may or may not know that I AM CRAZY. I am seriously addicted (NOT in the good way--IS there a good way to be addicted?!) to this game and I want to WIN. I am normally not a competitive person AT ALL (before I was married I wanted everyone ELSE to win so that everyone would just be happy...it's painful, right?!), but since marrying the most passive aggressively competitive person EVER (he makes Monika look tame--sorry--I allude to Friends and assume that everyone understands the reference. You do, right? Because they are YOUR friends, too--aren't they? We will seriously sit around and talk about the time that Ross did this and Joey did that or that one of us is "...so Chandler..." Yeah--we have issues. I even remember going to a wedding with Dave before we were married and we sat in the pew LAUGHING about Friends episodes. Yeah--we're going to hell...), so I've had to up my game (so to speak!) over the years.

There are a few games that are banned, though I would be willing to bring them back into action. First, Scattegories. I was a ROCK STAR (That's right--do you QUESTION it?!) when we played that game. I ALWAYS won. I started out as not wanting needing LONGING to win, but playing with Mister "I really don't care who wins (but I will tear your eyes out if I don't!"), I gradually got worse. The last day of Scattegories (or LDOS if you will) came when I wrote "Throw the trash"  to win the game. For those of you who don't know, Scattegories has a ridiculously shaped die that has all of the letters on it. The timer is set and you need to come up with a list of items (actions, people...) that begin with said letter. If you are clever enough (and don't care about annoying your partner) to come up with words that use the letter two or three (once I did four...) times, you will likely win. My brat baby  husband insists TO THIS DAY, that NO ONE says "Throw the trash..." and the game was TEN years ago--that's right--TEN. Maybe even eleven. It doesn't matter, since we have not played since.

Another game we stopped playing was Pictionary. you see, I have this problem of reading into EVERYTHING and Pictionary wasn't even safe. From the time we were just friends, Monika Dave and I played--AND WON--Pictionary. We were annoyingly in tune with each other and could guess what was going to be drawn sometimes before the pen hit the paper. As you can imagine, not-so-much fun at parties. We were always accused of cheating, which bothered me back when I would NEVER have cheated. People even accused us of READING through ALL of the Pictionary cards--like we had nothing better to do--wait a minute--BRILLIANT!  I still stand firm on the fact that we didn't cheat then, but I wouldn't trust us now...

The last time we played Pictionary, we couldn't guess ANYTHING the other one drew. I swore I would do a thesis on the way people play Pictionary versus the demise of their relationships.  Not only for obvious reasons--I know everyone thought I was being a poor sport because we lost--but because of the fact that partners need to be on the same wavelength and in tune with each other in a game like that. When we had an entire night of losses, I was sure the big "D" (you know...a seven letter word that signifies the end of a marriage...?) would be next. That was about NINE years ago and before the three children, so I may need to fine tune that research.  I just know that every time he would laugh about getting something wrong, I was devastated. Goodbye Pictionary.

We moved on to Scrabble, Risk and Boggle. We played Scrabble so regularly that I actually thought we would bring it to the hospital FOR SOMETHING TO DO (HA!) when I delivered my first baby. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I just love prebaby me. She was so dumb. ANYWAY...we did crosswords together every night (though the closer I got to delivery, the fewer we did--don't worry--I saved ALL of them so that we could work on them during the BORING times in the hospital--I almost couldn't type that I was laughing so hard!) and fit in a few Scrabble games a week. We stopped Scrabble because my damn husband used ALL of his letters EVERY game. Seriously--EVERY game. I didn't even know that was a THING. Needless to say, THAT was too much pressure for my pregnant brain (or placenta-brain as my sister affectionately calls it). We tried Risk during Hurricane-whatever-her-name-was and when he took over the ENTIRE PLANET and I rolled yet another losing roll, it almost ended up embedded into his skull (after I threw the dice at him--so much for NOT being competitive...). No more Risk. As for Boggle, I truly believed that I would excel at that game--I am after all an ENGLISH teacher.  Nope. Not against Mr. McCompetitiveson.  We recently reintroduced Boggle to the family and I feel QUITE comfortable playing with my seven and six-year-old. I even play with the five-year-old at times, though she tends to win. I think she cheats.

All of this (yes, I know it is extensive, but did you expect any less?!) brings me to the CHALLENGE. Perhaps it was because it was called a "Challenge." Perhaps it was because I love this woman--she's great. It may EVEN be because I was weakened by the week away from my love computer. Whatever the reason, I clicked, "ABSOLUTELY I will accept the challenge and I WILL allow you to invade WHATEVER you need to invade to get me there!"  That was my first hit off of the crack pipe called Words With Friends and I haven't looked back. I'm getting the shakes now, so I need to find a four letter word with "qi" in it. And eleven OTHER words...

WHY CAN THEY NOT PLAY FOR FIVE MINUTES WITHOUT ME?!

My children do not know how to play alone. That's not true--Addison is the youngest and she could play alone for hours. It's the other two. ANY TIME I send them anywhere away from me, they report back to me within five minutes.

"Mommy--there is nothing to do." "Brayden--Santa is still up in the air somewhere, and you are ALREADY over your new toys? Really? REALLY?!"

"No--but there isn't anything to DO."

SERIOUSLY? Dollar signs start flashing around my brain only to be replaced by the mom-rage and "Those ungrateful..." musings that visit me so frequently.

If you can't find something to do, I will FIND YOU something to do!" I know this is an old one. I know parents have said it for centuries, but I couldn't help myself. The problem is, that WORKED on us--we knew that our parents would give us something HORRIBLE to do, so we made ourselves scarce, if only for an hour. THIS is how I know my children are spoiled.
"Okay, mommy--what should we do?"

"Fine--first, you can bring these piles of laundry upstairs and put them in your drawers."

"But why do we have to do that?"

"Because FIRST of all, they are YOUR clothes and you should be putting them away anyway, but SECOND of all, you ASKED me to find you something to do--I didn't say you were going to like it!"

"FIIIIINE. We'll FIND something to do."

Here's where it gets tricky--on some days, I am so annoyed that they are so spoiled and mouthy that I continue the battle for the entire day--forcing them to clean up laundry, toys, dishes (which translated means that I clean up these things with them following me around and whining about having to do it), but on others I say, "Great. I do not want to see you for AT LEAST fifteen minutes unless someone is bleeding. And not the kind of blood that doesn't move on your skin--the kind of blood that's of the picked-scab variety. I'm talking about the kind of blood that makes you think we need an ER. THEN and ONLY THEN you may report to me."

Thirty-seconds later: "Mommy--Ryan won't let me use the pirate costume."

"I don't care."

"That's nice--you don't even CARE about us--you just want to work on your COMPUTER all the time!"

"Go play."

"Mommy...can we have..."

"NO. GO PLAY."

"...but we NEED..."

"All you need are the MILLIONS of toys you have in your PLAY ROOM. Do you know that A LOT of children do not HAVE play rooms? You have an entire LEVEL of a house devoted to YOU and your play things, yet you seem to "NEED"  everything else. GO PLAY."

[Almost] Two minutes later (yes--I time it now):

"Mommy--we are going to put on ALL the costumes and then we are going to pretend--"

"Now you are telling me what you are GOING to do? Why don't you DO it and then tell me how much fun you had?!"

"But I'm just telling you that--"

 "Don't tell me--ANYTHING. Just DO."

"I know, I just wanted you to know that--"

"GO PLAY."

"[Exasperated sigh] FIIIINNNE!"

I hear them going back and forth down there. It has been about three minutes now--a record, yet the littlest one is squeaking about something that sounds like it could end in her showing her face up here. I was close--she hops up the stairs to not only show me her face--but to show me her ENTIRE NAKED BODY. No words...

"I just didn't feewel comfowrtabewell in my undewerpants, Momma. now I'm NUDIE--and I need cwothes!" she hops her naked butt up the stairs to her room, singing Christmas carols and (is that Britney?) as she hops. Hearing a (young) five-year-old sing Britney Spears as she naked(ly?) hops around the house is disturbing if not funny. it seems three minutes is their limit. Or maybe it's MINE.

Here come the other two--I'm waving the white flag. Right after I give the lecture about how many toys they have that they can't be bothered to play with and how they WILL NOT play with ANYTHING that requires an electrical outlet or a battery until they learn how to play with actual toys AND each other. I'm selling it all on ebay and buying a yacht. I'm going to call my yacht "Sans Children" and I am going to sail it out to the middle of the sea where inevitably my cell phone will ring (or the Coast Guard will find me) and I will inform my children (AND the Coast Guard) that I have NOTHING to do and NOTHING to play with and I LOVE it.

Children of Mass Destruction

[I started this last week and my blog stopped working, so I was out of commission for a few days.  I'm BAA-AAACK--and I decided to continue on this one. I don't know HOW I got from A to Z (I rarely DO!), but at least I finally FINISHED it!]

I don't know what's WRONG with me. I KNOW there is a list of the MILLIONS of things that we definitely KNOW are wrong with me, but some things are still a mystery. For example, all three children are now at school, yet my brain seems to still be fuzzy and I don't get NEARLY enough done considering the little people only hinder me for a few hours in the morning and a few hours in the evening. Don't get me wrong--they do a FANTASTIC job of hindering me--they passed Hindering 101 years ago and are now working for a Master of Science in the Hinderance-of- Mother degree. It is AMAZING how skilled they are--so much so that they do not even have to BE here to hinder my progress. Gifted children, I tell you...

When all is said and done, I have at least five good hours to myself EVERY DAY. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. That was a bit dramatic since it actually isn't true. I don't have that time on weekends, so it's not EVERY day,  but twenty-five hours a week are ALL mine--unencumbered by yelling, screaming and fighting, or little people running around behind me undoing what I've already done. Unless I'M the one in a hindering mood--then I'm in trouble.

You see, I KNOW that after the last seven years of giving up my mind, body and home to three little people, it's going to take a while to bounce back, but I still cannot help but think that TWENTY-FIVE hours should be enough hours to get SOMETHING done. I can't even say that I am resting or napping (which I LOVE and feel we all have EARNED)--I am even too tired for THAT on most days. In my defense, my children wake me up almost EVERY night for some reason or another. I have a friend who told me that she locks her door at night, so I tried that and it worked--BRIEFLY. NOW they simply knock on the door and keep knocking. If we don't answer, they assume we can't hear them so they start POUNDING. And screaming. LOUDLY (as if there are OTHER kinds of screams) until one of us finally gets up to talk to them. Depending on the day (or WEEK) we've had and how truly exhausted we are, we either A. coax them back to bed--THEIR OWN beds (which--when I do it at least--takes a good hour or two depending on the child and the night), or 2. grab them and silence them by bringing them to OUR bed (which ensures immediate silence and a HORRIBLE (if ANY) sleep to follow). Each child takes a turn doing this to us each night of the week (perhaps giving us ONE night off, during which we wake up anyway since we are so used to doing it) and THEN all three will do it on the same night (THAT is always SO MUCH FUN). I know what you're thinking--"The Supernanny would NEVER allow this to happen..." right? "No WONDER these children are up every night--there is no consistency AND they let their children sleep with them!"  Don't you think I KNOW that?! It is SO EASY to be on THAT side of the computer. I was there once--all judgy and well-rested. *SIGH* Well, those days are gone and here I am now--the person who allows her children to wear her down on a regular basis.


There is something you should know about having children (if you haven't already learned it through experience). Having children in the house is like sharing your home with Iraqi insurgents. Maybe not EXACTLY like that, but you can't trust them--AT ALL. They are cute--I will give them that--sometimes RIDICULOUSLY so, but what a great way to conquer the enemy, don't you think? Go all Cindy Brady-meets-Shirley Temple-meets that kid from Jerry Maguire--on their a@$&s? That ENSURES victory, doesn't it? Here's how they do it. They start out acting like you are the ones in control. They slip into your hearts undetected and then one night, BAM--a nightmare. On just a few hours of sleep, you think, "My child just had a nightmare--how can I turn him away? What kind of person makes a sweet child deal with a nightmare all on his own? I have nightmares ALL the time and I don't want to be alone when I wake up--why should a small child who is MUCH more adorable and vulnerable than I have to be alone?"


He doesn't. You first try to bring them back to their own beds and console them by rubbing their backs and giving them hugs and kisses. Easy enough, right? Easy for some, but in THIS house, the children crawl up your body while hugging you and refuse to put their feet down on their beds, indicating that their BEDS are the source of the nightmares. If they were in YOUR bed, they would be much safer from the horrible nightmares. You fight for as long as you are able to do ANYTHING at that time of night, try to force them to lay down with you in THEIR beds (which is only slightly detrimental to your scoliosis) which only works SOMETIMES and always results in your staying with them for a good three hours of slight dozing on and off while you try to figure out HOW to escape without throwing the child into a fit that will wake up the entire block. After that happens a few times with EACH child and one day with ALL of the children, you start to think "What is the big deal if they sleep with us? It's not like they are going to do it as TEENAGERS. In FACT, when they are teenagers, they won't even want to spend ANY time with us--they CERTAINLY won't want to SLEEP with us, so REALLY we should WANT them to sleep with us now. SOME people have "family beds" and if those children can make it through life unscathed, certainly my allowing my child to get into bed with me so that the noise will JUST stop--I mean--so that the NIGHTMARES stop--isn't going to be detrimental, right?  Only it IS. Because ONE night with ONE child turns into THREE nights with THREE children while negotiating with them in the off  nights to just sleep in their own beds. Of course, they don't want you to give up completely and they LIKE the routine (yes--the good news is, you finally  have a routine. I think you KNOW what the bad news is...), so they usually grant a reprieve somewhere in the middle of all this. On THIS particular nightmare-free night, your spouse will usually be up either coughing or using the bathroom an impossible amount of times just to be sure that you do not get any sleep at all even though your children are finally letting you. Stonewall Jackson couldn't have planned it better. You see, with so little sleep, you confuse easily. Add to that any illnesses or weaknesses you may already have and they see your white flag waving before you even KNOW where your white flag IS.

While you are in this state of sleep-deprived-dementia,  they use ALL of the persuasive marketing tools (you know--the ones you learned about in high school--maybe even college or GRAD SCHOOL--YOUR children knew them as toddlers--I told you, GIFTED) on you, their favorite (and most effective) being circular reasoning. Depending upon your degree of SDD, they may not even have to go the complete circle (so to speak) before your confusion get the best of you, so you cave and allow them to play ping pong on the roof with their little sister--AS THE BALL.

Every so often they will throw a red herring at you and slip in some name-calling--these kids ARE clever--and it is all too much for your exhausted brain. You know you would trade even the cutest one for five uninterrupted hours, and THEN you get to deal with the guilt (yes, guilt IS for the weak, and I think I've shown just how weak you are at this point) of being the mother who jokes about trading her children for sleep. Their rhetoric works just as planned and suddenly THEY are in control. Only it isn't sudden at all, is it? They strategically planned to conquer...YOU...and they succeeded.

We really need to look into using small children to fight our battles. There would be no use for WEAPONS of ANY type of destruction--we would have "CHILDREN of Mass Destruction" and if we got these little people on OUR side, we would definitely win--just think of the innocent lives we would save by doing it like this. I know it SEEMS wrong and inhumane, but remember--the only "weapons" would be under four feet tall and would not use physical means to defeat the enemy (except for the occasional kicking feet or freakishly strong elbow lean on the pelvis).

I've read (and others have told me) that children know when you are not feeling well and they adjust their behavior accordingly. When I read (and heard) that, those discussing it indicated that children feel sorry that you are not well, so they become better behaved. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Clearly THOSE children are not in on the "plan." THOSE children do not realize that the time to attack is when your enemy is weak. My children sense weakness and make their moves. I was sick the other day and you would have thought that fifty-three children stormed the house, armed with baked goods (and FROSTING of course), candy and toys. By the end of the day, they were quite literally jumping ON me and I was quite literally BEGGING for mercy. And I was AWAKE for [most of] this. They just...kept...talking...until I had NO IDEA what was happening around me and I couldn't make it stop.

 I'm waving my white flag vigorously, but they scoff at my flag and continue the fight. Though I admire their tenacity, I am just...so...tired. THIS is why so many parents say, "One day you are going to have children JUST LIKE YOU and I am going to laugh...and laugh...and LAUGH!" I hate when my mother is right.

I love how every blog I try to make a comment on tries to "prove" that I am human. Evidently, if I am able to type words like "sIttonniT" and "Do  OmeD," I am a living and breathing being. Who knew? I just cannot help but be insulted by some of the things it asks me to type. I swear, one time I typed THREE different times and the words were; "Lo  o    S   E R," (though it was spread out over the page and had random lines in it) "so R    r E     E    E" and  "gOT    2   gv U    p." Seriously?!

I want to see the little man who is behind these "words" to find out HIS story. In this particular case (there are SO many--I usually look around the room when it happens to see if I am being video taped. Because if I WERE being videotaped, I would suddenly be able to SEE the perpetrator by simply looking around the room...), the computer seemed to become irate when I was too incompetent to type the correct words and/or symbols.  It's even WORSE to hear the audio version of whatever it is the strange little man wants you to type. It is seriously like something out of a horror movie. C-R-E-E-P-Y!

Anyway, on this particular day, instead of letting me comment after the third mishap, it asked me to type in numbers. Specifically, it asked me to ADD numbers. Now, we all know that I am NOT the brightest bulb, but I have not lost the ability to do simple addition--ESPECIALLY when I have a calculator. SO I DEFINITELY got the answers right. Which is why it was strange that I got the message, "Sorry, but we cannot confirm that you are human" THREE TIMES. Maybe the little man thought that there was no way ANY human would go to THAT much trouble to type in, 'Great blog--thanks for following me!" but he CLEARLY has not met THIS new blogger. IT'S ON, strange little man behind the computer. WE'LL SEE who is or is not human once and for all. (I'm not sure what my plan is here, but I wanted to scare him the way he has been scaring me. I'm afraid it was more like the time Ross tried to act tough on Friends--HILARIOUS to think that  he THOUGHT he could be tough, and only scary because he truly believed he WAS tough...either way, it IS on...)

"Niceness" is DEFINITELY underrated

I try to be a nice person all the time, but as I get older, I get crankier. I also think there is a direct correlation to how many times I gave birth and how crabby I am. If I were that Duggar woman, you would have to HIDE from me on a daily basis. Seriously--if I am THIS crazy with THREE, IMAGINE what I would be like with THIRTEEN (I shudder to think of it)--or NINETEEN (I honestly have no idea how many children she has--I'm not sure SHE knows, either--and I don't blame or judge her for it AT ALL-- is it twenty? Twenty-five? Who cares, really--after the tenth or eleventh she MUST have lost her mind, right? Because I lost mine and I only have (I know I told you, but it is pertinent to the story) THREE). I only saw parts of the show (I think it IS nineteen--isn't the show CALLED "Nineteen kids AND COUNTING"?!) YEARS ago, but she appeared to be happy enough--certainly not cranky. I feel like that is the dementia that takes over when you have NINETEEN kids and you are STILL counting, so the lack of crankiness doesn't really count in that case, I guess. So maybe I need to have eleven more children to conquer my crabby...


Oh my goodness--I had to step away for a few minutes so that I could LAUGH and then CRY. N-E-V-E-R GONNA HAPPEN! And not just because I am missing my parts. Last night at dinner, Ryan (my middle daughter) looked at me and said, "I really want a brother."  I need you to remember that we were ALL sitting at dinner TOGETHER--Addison (the youngest SISTER) was on her left and BRAYDEN (the oldest--BROTHER) was on her right. I stared at her for a second, looked at Brayden...looked back at her and she said it again. "WHAT? I want a BROTHER!" I slowly looked at Brayden, then looked back at her. We all started to laugh. She then clarified, "NOOOOO--I mean, I want a LITTLE brother," to which the other two vehemently agreed. Interesting...but probably not going to happen. I mean, DEFINITELY not going to happen (even MARY had her parts--not that I'M ANYTHING like Mary--nothing "immaculate" has gone on in MY life for YEARS. Is this sacreligious? If so, can I be forgiven? Please don't answer these questions--I don't want to know.), but maybe one day...probably NOT, but I DO think about adopting or becoming a foster parent. WHEN  (and IF) I get my brain back. You don't need to worry, though. My husband would NEVER go for it--he won't even let me get a PUPPY!


So back to me being nice...I kind of lost my "niceness" these last few years, but I still try to do random acts of kindness every day--things that don't really FEEL like random acts of kindness because I think that everyone who isn't a big jerk would do them. For example, holding the door for the person behind you at school, the store, church, gas station, library...you get it. ANYWHERE there is a door and you are entering or exiting. This seems like it would be a natural thing to do, right? I mean, you are going in--you simply hold out your hand so the door doesn't slam into the face of the unsuspecting soul behind you, OR you step aside and--yes, I'm gonna say it--ALLOW that person to enter FIRST. Crazy, I know, but it CAN BE DONE. I watch my children and their classmates push each other out of the way (sometimes they even STEP on each other!) to get to the door first and I realize that there are TOO MANY "grown ups" who do the same thing. It always makes me laugh--OUT LOUD--when the person in front of me goes out of his or her way to NOT touch the door when they enter a building and does not even LOOK to see if someone is entering after them. REALLY? REALLY, person who cannot be bothered to take one half of a second to glance back and hold the door for another human being--you are okay with that? You are okay with the door slamming in someone's face because you wanted to be ONE HALF of a SECOND earlier?! 


Of course, I always feel guilty when I hold the door for a person who is several feet away and they feel like they have to hurry because I am holding the door for them. I'm always sure to tell them to take their time, though they usually start running. THEN it is no longer a good deed. I feel compelled to tell them about when I was pregnant with my youngest and I had to waddle with the other two maniacs to hurry to get the door and that isn't really "helpful" at all. I am QUITE certain they LOVE that I tell them my story. Maybe THAT'S why I hold doors for people. Not to be nice, but to FORCE them to listen to my stories.  Hmmm....interesting...


The thing is, common courtesy and random acts of kindness are melding into one. I always thought that random acts of kindness needed to be big gestures--things that people wouldn't normally do--perhaps because they hadn't THOUGHT of doing them. Like paying the toll for the car behind you (which I tried to do a few times a month when I lived in Buffalo (I would hit the toll pretty frequently commuting from home, to school, to work, to work...and it was only like fifteen cents..something even I could afford!), though once I moved, I was rarely on toll roads), or bringing a homeless person lunch (though a few years ago when we lived in Virginia, I was driving with my friend's daughter and my oldest two. We came upon a homeless guy and I wanted to give him food, but I thought it wouldn't be appropriate with someone else's child in my car (I wasn't sure how her parents would feel about me pulling up to some strange man with their daughter in my car). I decided to slow down (not stop) and crack my window enough to throw a juice box and a cheese stick AT him. Yes...AT him. So now, instead of thinking, "Wow--it is so nice to give food to those who need it, she is thinking, "Wow--Mrs. Corwin THROWS FOOD at homeless people!" Great.


Bringing your cart back at the grocery store (though when my kids were little, I LIKED to find a parking spot with a cart next to it!) or helping someone to carry something awkward or heavy are just things that EVERYONE does, right?  Or helping someone who is short a dollar at the register (or when we were at the airport last year and this younger (I KNOW--EVERYONE is younger than me--he was about twenty) guy didn't know he would need to pay for his bag (because it was like a half of an inch bigger than the box. STUPID DELTA). He tried to pay with a credit card, but Delta evidently does not accept credit cards for baggage--NICE. I know there were people who were far wealthier than us who simply looked annoyed with this guy instead of feeling compassion for him. I know that the Delta personnell COULD have thought of SOMETHING to do to help this guy so that he could make his flight, but they chose to give that blank "I'm through with you--thereisnothingIcandoforyou...NEEEEXXXT" look that I HATE. At least PRETEND to want to help me, ya know?! We didn't necessarily have an extra twenty to spend, but I have BEEN that guy before, and even if I hadn't--how could I NOT help him?  We paid for his bag, which embarrassed him to the point of discomfort--maybe because everyone was GAWKING at him. He went on about how he would get the money at the first ATM and we both told him not to and not to give it a second thought. When things like that happen, I KNOW I married the right person. I cannot even IMAGINE what some of my ex-boyfriends would have said about THAT behavior--especially if we were hurting financially, but my husband and I were BOTH on the same page and we didn't even have to discuss it); or letting someone go in front of you either A. because you are being nice or 2. because they have ONE thing and YOU have ONE HUNDRED...everyone does THAT, right? WRONG.  This is another case of me thinking that everyone thinks like I do--I know, scary, but some of it is good...


So  on December 13, I decided to officially join this facebook 12 Days of Giving challenge. Although I try to do nice things on a regular basis (I swear I do--I'm not crabby ALL the time), this was going that extra step. Instead of dropping extra money in a toll, I drove through drive-thru simply to buy food for the next car. I bought coffee/cocoa for the construction workers down the road. I bought lunch for a few people at Wawa. The problem is, my "random" acts of kindness are NOT kind to our wallet, which is NOT kind to my husband! It does feel great, though. I always want to be the person who could pay the $200 bill for the person in front of me whose credit card is declined. Even when we HAD money, I don't remember ever doing THAT and it disappoints me. 


Yesterday I volunteered in my son's class. Every time I go to his (or his sister's) class, I try to bring coffee/cocoa and a treat to the teachers (mostly because I remember how excited I got when parents would do nice things for ME when I taught--it would make my whole week (sometimes MONTH) so much brighter! While I was paying for the coffee/cocoa, their Spanish and PE teachers got in line behind me. I said hello to them and chatted for a minute before I decided to pay for their lunches. At first they were surprised, then both couldn't stop thanking me as if I did something far more than pay for their meals--at WAWA. Both gave me a hug and I couldn't help but think, 'This really isn't a "RANDOM" act of kindness because they KNOW me and now feel in debted to me. I told them to NEVER mention it again. The thing is, I was going to pay for the person behind me anyway, so isn't it great that the two people behind me do things to directly help my children every day? Two birds, one stone. So to speak...


ANYWAY...I spilled a little coffee when I was trying to get into my car. THEN the coffee did a triple flip as I pulled out of the parking lot. I almost died (quite literally) pulling over to try to pick it up so it wouldn't spill anymore. When I parked at the school, the cups tipped AGAIN and when I went to catch ONE, the other lost its top and spilled all over the driver's seat. Most people would have given up on the coffee by now, but NOT ME. I'm P-R-E-T-T-Y tenacious when I want to be. I DID NOT go through all of THAT to simply THROW OUT the coffee. I entered the school soaked with coffee/cocoa mixture and proudly delivered (what I can only assume was tossed into the garbage) each coffee with the Reader's Digest version of the previous events. I'm a dropper. I'm a dropper and a spiller. AND a faller (refer to http://anothertiredmommy.blogspot.com/2011/11/soooo-clumsy.html). These are the things I do ALL the time and I've learned to live with it. I don't ACCEPT it--I live with it. But at least I can be a NICE dropper/spiller/faller, right?

Fight for your right to...throw MY party...?

I have the BEST friends. Really--I do. I don't know why I have been so lucky to meet and befriend such great people, but I'm happy it continues to be the case. I don't necessarily DESERVE to have these amazing people in my life, but they seem to stick with me no matter how I behave, so I guess I should just be happy and keep my mouth shut. BAHAHAHAHAHA--as if I could EVER keep my mouth shut!


Now that you know how lucky I am to have wonderful friends, I need you to know that I HATE throwing parties (seems unrelated, but bear with me)--HATE--with a BURNING passion. I always buy stuff I don't use either because I forget or because my children "use" whatever it is (party hats, blowhorns, TABLECLOTHS...?!) BEFORE the day of the party. S-T-R-E-S-S. I know some moms who are SO GREAT at throwing parties and who seem to LOVE it. Nary a bead of sweat forms on their brow and they seem to even ENJOY themselves AT the party.  I want to hate them because of my insane jealousy, but instead I admire them and continue to hate parties.

My friend, Tonya is the poster-person for this type of party--she is so..."together."  She has three kids as well (though she does it MUCH better than I do!)--her oldest are twins--a boy and a girl--and her youngest boy is about three (maybe four or five--I don't even know how old MY kids are half the time! That's a blog for another day!) years younger, I think. When we were neighbors, my kids were always invited to their birthday parties and they were all so fun! She was always the perfect host and always had themes that complemented each other and the boys and girls got the greatest goody bags--with babies even getting age appropriate gifts. I buy goody bags and forget to give them to the kids--and I NEVER get cool or appropriate things when I DO remember. The babies end up with blow pops and the middle schoolersget A, B, C books. Tonya had everything PERFECT--right down to the last detail and she NEVER broke a sweat. I throw a party and don't breathe again UNTIL IT'S OVER. It's utter chaos, and the WORST part is I'm always running around like a lunatic with my hair wet from the shower I barely took (or the sweat that inevitably encompasses my body) as guests are arriving and I usually end up with some disaster like no cake, a missing child or forty two-year-olds running around and screaming like crazy people--SOME disaster or another to set me into sweaty mess mode. It can be fifty degrees below zero and I will have sweat POURING out of me like someone attacked me with a bucket of water. Did you ever see Ben Stiller's reaction--to Thai food I think--in Along Came Polly? I make him look calm, cool and collected. Especially "cool."


The worst part of the party for ME  is the opening of the presents. ALL of the children want to open the presents AT THE SAME TIME and there is yelling and fighting (not just from me!), tissue paper and gift bags are thrown about like Jiffy Pop (I get it--you are all too young to know Jiffy Pop--let's just say they throw everything up in the air. I need to work on getting better metaphors aimed at my younger audience--noted) and I never know WHO gave WHAT gift making the thank you cards that I NEVER send that much more difficult to do.  I'm getting stressed out just THINKING about it.


For Brayden's second birthday (WHY I would go to so much trouble for a two-year-old birthday is BEYOND me--those of you who do not have parties until your kids are in school are BRILLIANT! Once you start, you can't go back and with THREE...ugghhh!), I invited WAY TOO MANY kids and their parents all came as well. I was a wreck! Worrying about fifty people and activities to do with toddlers and other kids (aged 1-10) almost gave me a breakdown. LUCKILY, my college roommate and dear friend, Kate came down to help to see me through it. I felt like those of you who are lucky enough to hire a party planner or who were able to have a wedding planner--SHE worried about the organization and fun keeping the Niagara Falls of sweat at bay. I was still kind of stressed--but she made it SO MUCH BETTER!  I don't think I mentioned how CRANKY I get when I entertain...cranky is really too nice. I am SUCH a B%#@! when I throw a party. I don't know WHAT happens to me. Not just because of the sweat (which really doesn't help with the crankiness), but ANYTHING can set me off for NO reason. My husband is usually the object of my rage, but when Kate comes she runs interference--and knows how to handle me (and my RIDICULOUS behavior).  Unfortunately, she moved to Scotland and we moved to Montana--where I missed my middle daughter's birthday (in July) completely (I didn't actually MISS her birthday--I just didn't give her a party--which was noted by her brother, making her dwell on it more than she usually would. Brothers are great like that, aren't they?!). I finally decided to have her party in October and I told her I did it on purpose so that she could have a Halloween birthday party. Not the first time I lied to her (that DAY) and not the last. The number of lies I tell my children each day is a source for ANOTHER blog post. Or a book...


SO...my youngest daughter turned five in November (YIKES!) and I realized I had to give her a party--mostly because she kept reminding me and on the day of her birthday she cried and told me, "...you wroooined my bewerwfday because you won't let me have a pawewerty," (she was REALLY tired!) because her siblings (again--GREAT helpers with this!) told her that she would have a party on her birthday. Nevermind that we celebrated with friends over the weekend (her birthday was on a Monday) I brought a cake into preschool and we were taking her to a fun restaurant for dinner...she thought she would have a huge party at home. NICE. I tried explaining to her, but again--she was EXHAUSTED (and a bit of a brat, I hate to admit about my baby). Of course, AFTER the fun night, she could NOT stop thanking us and smiling, so there's THAT. ANYWAY...when I spoke with "Aunt" Kate about the dread I felt simply ANTICIPATING the party that was not planned, she offered to save the day again. LOVE her!

Here's the problem: Kate came and truly saved the day, but I was a BEAST. Really. I was SOOOOO awful to her--and to EVERYONE. I told you I am horrible, but I was even WORSE this time. And if she hadn't come it would have been DISASTROUS! The thing is, Kate knew not to take anything personally. This is why men and women have such a problem in relationships. Everything I said and did to Kate would have sent my husband to an attorney, but Kate just nodded and smiled or walked away while I did whatever it was I was doing to sabbotage her efforts to make the party stress-free. When the last person left at 4:30, we all exhaled and I felt really good about how it went. Kate decided to give her son a bath (which turned into ALL children getting in their suits and into the tub. How fun for her, right? It gets worse. Before she came down, the doorbell rang. One of Addison's friends from school had lost the invitation and thought the party STARTED at 4. It was 5:20, so they thought they made it for the last hour of the party. As we chatted with the mother and cousin, Addison played with her friend and Kate and her husband watched television with their son in the other room. WORST. FRIEND. EVER. I couldn't even MAKE it stop! I finally told the mom that we needed to get dinner, but by then it was too late--everyone was tired and hungry and...TIRED. SO RUDE--I KNOW--I just didn't know what to say to the friends mom. Oh well--lesson learned I guess! 

So the general theme here is that I have great friends who make it possible for me to do things I most likely would not do without their help. And I still hate parties. My son's birthday is in January and I'm already wondering if we can bribe him into skipping the party. I'm pretty sure I've maxed out my party-planning pleas with Kate and even if I didn't, I SHOULD have, so I'm going to try some breathing exercises (you know--the ones that are COMPLETELY USELESS during childbirth?) and try to count to ten when I feel stressed. I'm pretty sure I will get to google (yes, google...my son informed me when he was four that google is the highest number and that I don't know ANYTHING if I think it's infinity...THIS is the person I am worried about throwing a party for? REALLY?!) SEVERAL times, but we shall see. UNLESS Tonya is reading this and wants to be my next victim party helper...? One of these days my friends are going to realize how great they are and how NOT great I am, but  hopefully by then my children will be planning their own parties.