Mom's Morning Wake-Up

So this was my morning wake-up 'call' from the kids. Good thing I had my cell handy. Little brats! Haha. I guess they opened up the china cabinet downstairs and took out Grandpa Mark's harmonicas, so of course after they were done 'serenading' me I told them all about how Grandpa sure could wail on those things. They walked around the rest of the morning, playing the blues, talking about how they are "just like Grandpa Mark!" 

Life with BOYS: Top 10

1. When you go out and buy a new toilet seat rather than have to clean the old one.

2. You turn a blind eye to the number of showers your teenage son has in a day. (Also see #3)

3. Your son brings you his sheets to wash every other day.

4. "We're just going to have a sandwich" results in an entire loaf of bread gone, an empty peanut butter container, and jam spilled all over the counter.

5. There's an instinctive shudder of dread when you're doing laundry and have to reach into the pants pockets before putting them in the wash. 

6. Dried snot on the walls no longer fazes you. 

7. You buy candles and air freshener by the bucketful, just to try to overpower the aroma of Eau de Boy Stench. 

8. You have learned your lesson about coming to investigate when your son yells from the bathroom, "Mom, come see!"

9. Milk and juice jugs are put back in the fridge with mere droplets left inside.

10. "If you don't clean your room, I'll do it for you" is a really great threat. Boys have secrets, don't you know. 

What clogged the toilet: mystery SOLVED

Oh, yeah, you "accidentally" flushed something down the toilet, eh Ryder?


Turned out it was a long comb wrapped in tons of what looked like paper towel (but later realized was actually Lysol antibacterial wipes, which do NOT dissolve in water like the toddler wipes).


So I pretended to take a picture of the comb/wipes with my camera and told the little DICKens that I was emailing it to Santa and there was going to be yet another check mark under Ryder's 'naughty' column, and that from now on he'd better work extra hard at being 'nice' or he was going to get ELF POOP in his stocking.

Well, poop!

Things just aren't going my way lately...

It all started with a toilet that wasn't flushing properly. At first the plunger seemed to do the trick, but then after a day or so even that didn't work. I knew, I just KNEW, that little Ryderman had something to do with it. "I promise Mommy, I did NOT flush anything down there!" After emptying the toilet of its foul soup-of-despair, I tried the snakey-thing with the claw, even put my hand up there (*shudder* picture me afterwards, like Lady McBeth, frantically washing and washing and washing my hands and arms), nothing worked. It was at that point, with my arm buried up to the elbow in the throne, when I heard a tiny voice coming from Ryder's room, "Wellll.... I might have accidentally flushed a bath toy down there." WHAT. THE. HELL?! So now I knew the enormity of the problem. It then became apparent that I would have to physically take the toilet apart, flip it over and flush that damn toy out. Googled until I found a how-to article that didn't seem too scary, annnnddd.... long story short, it DID NOT turn out to be a tub toy, but hundreds of friggin' toothpicks jammed up in the bottom like a friggin' Kerplunk game. And of course, the toothpicks held in place a disgusting putrid sludgy mess of crap and toilet paper and even a few cardboard toilet paper rolls. You can bet your ass Ryderman got a spanking for THAT! Toothpicks, of all things. Now I know why the new container of toothpicks I bought went missing.

Also, during the past week I came to discover, after taking Lena in to the doctor because her voice went froggy, that she has strep throat. And then this morning, Gunnar woke up with an agonizing throat. Yep, the doctor confirmed it, also strep. Just waiting now for it to hit Ardan and Ryder. You know, because that's the way it goes in this household.

Oh, and then, tonight, Lena and I showed up for her 6:30 soccer practice, 6:30 like it said on the schedule I was given, only to see her entire team already on the field playing. And I was then informed that the schedule had been changed, ALL our game times are at 5:30 from now on, and oh wasn't that too bad I hadn't gotten the new schedule? And it was our turn to bring snacks, which we did, a huge container of watermelon for the kiddies, so the poor duffers had to eat it after the game was done. Lena got to play for 5 minutes, and she did score a goal in that time (of course), but the coach (who owns Taco Time) awarded her the Taco Time Player of the Game award (a free taco gift card) for having Most Goals Scored this season so far. So that took the embarrassing sting out of our night, a bit.

*sigh*

I'm a Mean Mom

Oooo-hoooo, Gunnar is MAD at me!

We have a rule around here that when its this cold outside, the kids must either wear snowpants or long-johns under their pants. Ardan and Lena have no problem with wearing snow pants (they haven't reached that age yet), but heaven forbid Gunnar wear something as 'uncool' as snow pants. And so he always does the long-john thing.

So this morning, about ten minutes before he had to leave to catch the bus, I wanted to confirm that he had them on. 'Yep, I'm wearing them'. For real, you are? I didn't see you go downstairs to put them on. Show me the bottom part. So he lifted his jeans up a bit, all I saw was ankle. Where's the long-johns? 'Uh, the bottom is up by my shin.' Oh really? Let me feel then. I pinched a bit of jean to see if I could feel that waffle texture underneath. Nope. Oh really? You wanna look me in the eye and tell me you're wearing long-johns? Silence. Eyes averted. You lied to me, Gunnar. Flat-out lied. So guess what your punishment is? You get to wear the snow pants to school. So go ahead, put them on.

He trudged downstairs to get them, a black cloud of anger and resentment hanging over him. And oh boy, was he mad at me. Wouldn't even look at me as he got ready to go. Usually its all smiles and 'goodbye!'s... not today. Just muttering under his breath. Out the door he stormed, slamming it closed.

I'm not too upset about it. I mean, I hate being the 'bad guy' but when it comes to the health and well-being of my kids, I'll willingly take that role if it means prevention of frost-bite or worse. Like, c'mon Gunnar! Its -27 out there right now with wind chill! What did he expect, honestly?

My hard-nosed stance could have had something to do with the fact that I busted him yesterday after school for wearing friggin' skater-shoes to school, when he KNEW he was supposed to wear his boots. We have another rule, when the thermometer reads anything below -10, its the boots. I'm willing to let that rule slide when its above that temp; I'll let him get away with wearing the shoes -- even though every motherly instinct screams at me that he should be wearing the boots. So yeah, after busting him on that, I probably came down a little hard.

If there is one thing I cannot stand, its my kids lying to me. I've told them time and again, you're going to get in a heck of a lot more trouble just for the lie than the actual transgression. And they always get busted because I can sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. You'd think the bugger would have learned by now.

The funny thing is that I remember with crystal clear clarity, being that age and thinking the exact same thing: that my parents were lame for making me wear my winter boots and snow pants. And oh, how I raged against the injustice of being made to look 'uncool', showing up to school in clunky boots and snow pants that made me look 'fat' (they didn't but that's how a teenage girl's mind thinks, right?).

So now I've officially crossed over in that 'lame parent' territory and you know what? Its not too bad! So he's mad at me and was probably muttering some choice words about me as he clomped all the way to the bus stop, but at least he's warm and frostbite-free.

And when HE becomes a parent and has to deal with the exact same situation, I'm just going to laugh and smile and nod my head. The torch will have been passed, one more lame parent.

Just... UGH.

I love my boys, I really do. You know I do. But sometimes...  I tell ya, that old family threat of "I'm going to sell you to the Indians!" (or was it gypsies?) really sounds good.

There is a certain behaviour that children exhibit, more specifically - MALE children, that just makes me want to SCREAM!! And I can't even say that they grow out of it because my youngest brother is a perfect example (and Amber, I know you know what I'm talking about). He still continues to do it to this day, and he flat out admits to doing it!

WIPING SNOT ON THE WALL.

I'm about done, people. DONE. For some strange reason I was in a cleaning mode this morning, took a microfiber cloth to the china cabinet, baseboards, shelves, etc. And then I thought, 'Hmm, might as well do a couple of walls while I'm at it.' Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

You know, it wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't such a blatant, obvious display of "I-know-this-is-wrong-and-gross-but-I'm-still-going-to-do-it". You don't accidentally wipe snot on the wall. Doesn't happen that way. And if I've told them once, I've told them a thousand times: WIPE IT ON YOUR DAMN SHIRT.

Which may horrify and disgust you but think about it. That way, you never have to see it, never have to touch it, you don't even know its there. The shirt goes into the wash, comes out clean. Easy. Done.

On the frickin' wall? Try getting that stuff off with just a cloth, I dare you. Its impossible. No, you have to wrap a cloth around your finger and then SCRAPE with your fingernail. And the entire time, your brain is stuck on repeat: This is snot. This is snot. Dried, hardened snot. This is snot.

And also, its frickin' embarrassing! Try explaining THAT to guests when they come over. "Oh, don't mind that. Just leftovers from last month's cold. Sorry you leaned against it, though."

And another thing... it also wouldn't be so bad if it was just one or two snots on the wall. But I counted six! And that was just on one wall, in one general area! Not even the entire wall! If I did the math (which will probably come out wrong, I don't claim to be Einstein), that small area was about 1/6th the size of the whole wall. So multiply that by 6, you're looking at at least 36 snots! Just on the one wall! I have like a billion walls in this house!

What the hell is wrong with my children? No, seriously. Levi, maybe you can explain to us in the comments the mindset of a snot-wiper. Is it just habit, or a deeper compulsion? Like, 'you didn't buy me the video game I wanted so ha-HA!'

I don't get it.

But I tell ya, I'm about at the point with those boys that I'm going to threaten that they have to scrape those snots off with their TEETH, every last one. And when I have them utterly believing, crying and begging, promising on the birth of their firstborn that they will never, EVER snot-wipe again... then, I will hand them the putty knife.

I need a cigarette.

Addicted to Status Updates

Is it just me or does this chick look like Gwen Stefani?

BeauSaxon Kasha...

was told by Gramma DD that I've lost weight in my bust. "Actually Gramma, I'm just not wearing my push-up bra today. But thanks." I guess flat boobs = losing weight.

has a nose stud that apparently thinks its in jail, keeps trying to escape my nostril. I find myself having to check it every five minutes and once again, its sliding halfway out. Get back in your cell, damn you!

has a new obsession: The Walking Dead tv show. Soooo good! Of course, its about zombies, just what it sounds like. The downside is the guaranteed nightmares that follow every episode.

has lost her Adam Lambert cd and as a result is now being forced to listen to "Toddler Tunes" turned full blast. Double the horror! So I've got two little ones out in the kitchen, singing along in innocent joy while I'm frantically trying to find the ear plugs. "Oh dear, what can the matter be... Oh dear, what can the matter be..." The matter is that my eardrums are bleeding!

was told by her two oldest boys last night, upon returning from Mom's house where No.2 & 3 got to play the new XBox 360 Kinect, that they would like to take the next week off school and just move in with Gramma, "No offense, Mom". Oh no, I totally get it, boys. In fact, was expecting just such a thing. I only wish I could play the Dance Central game to my heart's content without a snickering audience.

was asked quite politely this morning if I would pleasepleaseplease cook the deer heart today so the guys can eat it tonight. Um, yeah. What do I look like, a frickin' evil stepmother who delights in roasting fresh heart while cackling and twiddling my evil fingers, huddled over a bubbling cauldron? Can you say, "EWW!" But, being the sweet loving wife I am, will be finding myself wrapping that damn organ in bacon and inhaling the traumatizing odor of slow-cooking heart all day long. Damn it! I better be getting some sweet-ass Christmas presents for this.

*facepalm*

So I'm in Walmart tonight with No.3&4 and I notice that everyone is grinning at me. Men in particular. So of course I'm thinking its because I'm looking so cute. I mean, after all, I had done my eyes up a new way (dark purple liner instead of black) and my hair was all blond and fluffy and cute. I was wearing my denim capris and purple plaid flats. Cute, right?

Even the cashier grinned at me. I was starting to think I really had it going on, baby!

Then we get out to the vehicle and I look in the mirror.

*FACEPALM!!*

There was a tiny piece of green plastic stuck to my forehead.

Immediately I turned to Lena and barked, "Look at my forehead! Has this thing been on there all along?"

She nodded.

"Well, thanks for the heads-up Lena, THANKS. A. LOT!!"

She just shrugged. Ooooo, that is SO it, little girl, Santa is definitely hearing ALL about this!

Update: Wisdom Teeth

I was cocky. I bragged that I led a charmed life. Well, it all came back to bite me on the butt, big time. (Or the TOOTH, as it were.)

Monday I had my post-surgery consult with the oral surgeon, as I reported it was fine, great. That night, I started feeling nauseous and out of nowhere, just started puking my guts out. AGONY. I could feel my mouth trying to stretch wide and I tried, I really did, to keep it closed but puke doesn't care. The body can't help what it wants to do. It felt like something wrenched in my jaw area on that one side and it was like an explosion of the most intense pain I've ever felt.

The nauseous-ness continued on to Tuesday. After that first time, I was so paranoid of my jaw doing that wrenching-thing again that I was frantic to stave off future vomiting episodes. Plus I really needed something for the pain. So I took a couple of percocet and ate a yogurt, hoping the food would calm the nausea that usually accompanies the taking of the percocet. But no, that just fed the fire, excuse the pun.

And so began a vicious circle; puking, taking a pain pill with food and water, then puking it all back out again, and so on. I wasted a TON of my precious percs.

Finally, by Tuesday night whatever 24-hour bug I picked up ran its course. Blessed relief.

Early Wednesday morning: as I'm packing the kids' lunches, I bent down to give Ryder his good-morning-hug and the little DICK (no 'ens' on that one) rammed his big ole rockhead right into my jaw, RIGHT on that one painful spot. On purpose!

I just about blacked out from the pain. I thought what I felt during that first puke episode was the epitome of pain, well. That was nothing compared to this. Instantly I was hunched over, waves of nausea, light-headed, jaw THROBBING. It felt like the inside of my mouth had exploded. Immediately I popped two percs, pulled up my big girl panties, and finished the morning routine of packing lunches, getting breakfasts ready, hustling the kids through their routines of brushing teeth, getting dressed, etc. All on autopilot, all done while waiting for the meds to kick in.

Which they did, for a brief hour. An hour! And then the pain returned. And it was horrific. I wanted to take more pills but I only had two left, so I waited as long as I dared, made it to noon. Took those last two pills with a prayer that the relief would be longer this time. And they definitely did take the edge off but there was still that constant throb.

And what a day for visitors. My cousin Kim called out of the blue and asked if she could come over for a visit as it was her lunch break. I'd mentioned in the past that she should come over for coffee and a chat, so I WAS happy that she took me up on the offer. Most people just say 'sure!' and then you never hear from them. So I said yes, come on over. But part of me was like, 'Really, today of all days?' When I was wandering around in a perc-and-pain daze, looked like absolute SHIT, greasy hair, unwashed body, wearing dirty clothes? Because of the pain, I was in that mood where I just didn't care. And I told her that on the phone, that I was a complete mess, so she was forewarned.

And of course, being a hair stylist, she was dressed all snazzy, awesome hair, looking friggin' GREAT (she's lost at least 20 pounds since I last saw her, I swear!). So we had our coffee and somewhat-awkward chitchat -- being that we don't have a whole lot in common beside kids and husbands and messy houses. Lol! But those DO make great topics of conversation, so it was all good.

Later that night, Levi and Amber stopped by to drop off a movie for the kids and cookies. Levi could tell that I wasn't myself, he noticed it at once just by the way I opened the door! Hah.

So yeah, not a very good night. And not a very good Thursday (today) either. I knew, I knew, that something was very wrong with my mouth. I called the surgeon's office and she said to come in right away and they'd fit me in. Ryder and I arrived at the office and were there probably a good half hour before they called us back to the doctor's room. He took a look and of all the things I'd braced myself to hear (infection, dry sockets, exposed nerve, abscess) it was NOT this:

"There's some food impacted in the site."

Uh, what now? Friggin' FOOD?! You mean to say that the source of all this agony was some bits of G-D food? I felt like a beast, a slobbish pig of a beast!

He assured me that that was very common and it was definitely a good thing I came in because it would have turned to an infection in a day or two. He used a cool little water-pick looking thing, basically a syringe with a long curved tip, to flush the food out and it was GROSS! I was just so, so embarrassed. He gave me one of those syringes to take home and advised that I use it after each meal to keep the site clean. So now I'm paranoid about it happening again and I've been flushing the area constantly.

So yeah. Brought down from my charmed-life pedestal by a piece of food. Niiiice.

The Rebels game

We were given four Rebels tickets the other night and as No.1&2 were spending the night at their cousin's, Hubs and I decided to take the little ones. They were so excited, especially Milena. Miss Diva Fashionista picked out an outfit, very funky and cool I must say. My outfit was just blah, whatever was clean. I wore my red coat, though. (This is all important info for later in the story.)

So away we went, just a little late for the start of the game. The only available parking we found was wayyy out in the boonies of the parking lot, took like ten minutes just to walk to the centrium. Found our seats, which, because of the season-ticket-holder nature of the tickets, were in a choice spot, right behind and to the left of the goalie. (Also important info.)

Being the very first home game of the season, it was kind of a big deal. Everyone was wearing red, with white pom-poms and little signs saying 'Go Rebels, Go!' that apparently the Advocate had supplied in that day's edition of the paper. The cards were important because at a certain moment, the announcer would ask everyone in a certain section to wave their cards and one lucky person would receive a Rebels jersey. We, of course, did not have a card but whatever.

The game was great, very exciting; the Rebels kicked butt 8-1 over the Oil Kings. Every time the home team scored, the siren would play, lights going on and off, everyone going crazy and cheering. Ryder really got into that. He would clap as hard and fast as he could, grinning hugely.

During the first period, Ty realized that a guy near him was an old work buddy, so they talked and caught up. Right before that, Ty had asked me to switch seats with him. Presumably to talk to this guy, right? (We were sitting with the kids in between us, I had been beside an aisle and he'd been beside a tweenaged girl.) So whatever, I switched, no problem.

Uh, PROBLEM!!

This girl, probably between 11-13, you know, that talkative stage, well she would just not SHUT UP. Seriously. At first it was cute. I was thinking, "Wow, its nice to see a girl that age who's not shy or hesitant to interact with strangers." Yeah, that thinking lasted about five minutes. Seriously, I'm talking non-stop talking. NON. EFFING. STOP. And if she thought I hadn't heard something, she'd repeat it again and again, especially if she thought it was hilarious and that I should be laughing. At one point, I just pinned my evil glare on her father, who was sitting near the aisle, until he must've felt it and looked at me. Now, if that was me and I noticed a complete stranger sitting by one of my kids and that the person was glaring daggers at me, I would rightly assume that my kid was bothering them and I should intervene. But did he? NO. He just blandly smiled at me and went back to texting on his cell. FUCKER! He was probably just happy that he'd pawned the daughter off on some poor sap and he wasn't the one with bleeding eardrums.

But you know what made it even more horrible? Ryder decided to start being a little ass. Got totally hyper, didn't want to stay in his seat, decided that crawling under/over the seats in front of us (which were blessedly empty, thank god) was much more fun. Oh, and he decided to really push my buttons and just take off, up the stairs and out of the stands. Naturally I had to race after him and carry him kicking and screaming back to our seats. (Because HELL NO was I letting the little wanker run around willy-nilly in that big open area that was jam-packed with people, he would've been lost in the crowd within seconds.)

So we finally get back to our seats and here its intermission and Ty decides to take Lena to the concession to get the kids some ice cream. Fine, whatever, thanks for all the help with Ryder, I really appreciate it. See ya later in a couple of minutes. Right? Because the concession was directly above where we were sitting. So it shouldn't have taken too long. Right?

Twenty frickin' minutes later and I'm about ready to pull down Ryder's pants in public and spank his bare ass. People around us were either totally pissed off at his bratty behaviour or humorously indulgent. Meanwhile I've got The Mouth sitting next to me, The Little Ass crawling all over everything, and no sign of Hubs and Lena. During the intermission, little cameras strategically placed throughout the arena would focus on particular people in the audience and they would find themselves up on the big screen. I thought to myself, 'What are the odds that I'll find myself up there? Hopefully NEVER because I look like crap -- well, my at least my hair looked good.' 

Finally, FINALLY, they come back with ice cream. And thank god, because at that point that was the only thing that could've grabbed Ryder's attention from eating popcorn off the floor. They came bearing gifts, though (besides the ice cream). I guess there was a big wheel thing set up by the concession that kids could spin and win a prize. Lena spun and won Ryder a mini stick. Cool. But then, for whatever reason, she refused to spin for herself (maybe was uncomfortable with all the attention on her, she gets like that). Just flat-out refused. Whatever. Ryder was thrilled with his new mini stick, so that was all that really mattered.

So there we sat while the game started up again, the kids quietly eating their ice cream, Hubs back to chatting with his buddy, while I sat and wondered how long this calm-during-the-storm would last. At one point, Ty dragged his attention off his friend and informed me that he saw me up on the big screen, but my face was turned away because I was looking down at Ryder. Not wanting this to be true, I asked how he knew it was me if he hadn't seen my face. "Well, your red coat, duh." Oh. Great. But actually, I'm thankful that my face wasn't on the screen because I would have been grimacing-and-bearing-it. How attractive would THAT have been? Yikes. I said, "Well, hopefully the camera won't return to this section." He looked at me funny and replied, "Uh, we're right behind the goalie, this section gets the MOST attention from the cameras." DOH!

So anyway, that calm thing I mentioned? Ya, it didn't last long. Ryder lost interest halfway through his ice cream. He decided that banging his mini stick on the empty seats in front of us was wayyy more cool. And of course, I had The Mouth sitting beside me, egging him on. And that is when I lost it. Just spazzed out.

Reached over and grabbed Ty's arm, snagging his attention away from Bestfriend McWorkguy. "What, what do you want?" UM, WHAT DO I WANT? How about for you to pay a friggin' lick of attention to what is going on here and help me out a bit? Do you even REALIZE that Ryder has eaten a bucket's worth of popcorn from the floor? And that everyone around is about to murderlize him for being a complete brat? And that he's smeared ice cream all over himself and me and the chair? And that I am about one second away from getting up and leaving to go sit in the truck? Oh, and THANKS A BUNCH for asking to switch me seats, I totally see what you did there. DO YOU REALIZE ALL THAT???"

Poor Ty, I really do feel for the guy. He handled my outburst very well. Returned his attention to me and the kids, sat Ryder on his lap and talked to him about the game, actually diverting the little DICKens attention from being a brat to the game. So phew, I calmed down and chilled out and was able to enjoy the game as much as I could with The Mouth still carrying on beside me. But then, miracle of miracles, her family decided to get something to eat and they all left their seats. So I quickly moved to sit beside Ty, leaving Lena and an empty seat beside The Mouth's seat. Yesssss! My eardrums breathed a sigh of sweet blessed relief.

So now it was the third period, game almost over. The ref called for a brief time-out and the cameras started rolling on the audience again. Lena stood up in her seat, waving one of those cards she'd found on the ground. And wonder of wonders, the camera focused on her and Ryder, cheering and waving that card, and when they saw their faces up on the big screen... well, it was a moment I'll never forget. Just pure, utter elation and excitement. "Mom, we're on the big tv! Am I famous now? Am I on the REAL tv?" I just ran with it, "You sure are! Wow, you're on tv! Smile! Wave!" I think it was the biggest thrill of her life. The icing on the cake was that she looked awesome, a totally cool outfit on, pretty face and hair, huge grin. Ya.

Finally the game ended but the spectators were told to stay in their seats because for the very first time, there was going to be an indoors fireworks display! The lights went off, everyone got real quiet, and it began....

(So friggin' sorry for my high-pitched yelling, talk about EMBARRASSING!!! Why did I do that? What is WRONG with me?? So you might want to turn down your volume so your speakers don't blow. SORRY!!)

But yeah, we had a great time (at least that last little bit). Don't know if I'd do it again, though. LOL

"Stupid movie!" sniff, sniff

We took the kids to see a movie yesterday at the Carnival theater, Toy Story 3. It was kind of a big deal for the family, we never go to the movie theater, mainly for the reason that we're leery of how Ryder will act. But a few months ago, Ardan was invited to a friend's bday party at the Silver Lake Cinema to see Shrek 4, and siblings were invited as well. And Ryder did really well during that movie, stayed in his seat the entire time, eyes glued to the screen as he happily munched on popcorn. So I was pretty sure he'd do well at this movie. And other than a few seat-switching moments and one super-annoying frantic trip to the potty where nothing came out, he was fine.

No, what this post is about, is ME.

So there we were, 3/4 of the way through the movie. Through a series of hair-raising events, the toys had ended up at the city dump, where they'd escaped the dump version of a wood-chipper, only to find themselves utterly hopeless as they neared the lava-like incinerator. Realizing that this was it, no way out or hope for escape, the toys all clasped hands and gazed meaningfully at each other. It was a super-emotional moment and the entire theater was silent.

Little Lena chose that moment to glance at me, and in her high-pitched, too-loud-for-the-situation voice, piped up, "Mom, why are you CRYING!??"

I could feel the parents around us swivelling in their seats to look at me. Talk about mortifying.

So needless to say, the toys are saved by a last-minute rescue ("The CLAW!"- and that's all I'll say about it), the movie ended happily, though tearfully, yet again, as Andy makes the momentous decision to pass along his 'best friend Woody' to another child. And there I was, again, trying to hide my tears and eye-wiping. Lena knew though, but at least she restrained herself and only shook her head at me.

'Just you wait', I thought as we left the theater, 'I'm going to find the most heart-wrenching, tear-jerking movie and make you kids watch it, then I'm going to examine your faces and the moment I spot a tear, "A-HA!" with the finger-pointing. "I'm not the only one!"'

Stupid movie!

Peeve of the Week: Dough-Heads

That's what I call people who have "Derp" moments (click on the link to see what I mean). And today, it was either Tyler or Gunnar who earned the nickname 'Dough-Head'.

They were up at the butt-crack of dawn to go fishing. I woke up a few hours later, wandered into the kitchen and, still in that just-woke-up-daze, started cleaning up. For some reason, there was a box of salt on the counter. I picked it up to put back in the cupboard and woosh, out pours all the salt. Some dough-head left the spout half-open, AND the box was upside-down (which, in my daze, I didn't notice). When I picked up the box, the salt inside shifted towards the spout.

So picture me, dazed and confused, standing there with salt covering the entire counter, the floor, some even made its way into the fresh cup of coffee I'd just made.

DOUGH-HEADS!!

Some moments can never be un-remembered... (TMI!!)

He is SO lucky he's cute....

Lena and Ryder were fighting over a ball when suddenly she let out a wailing scream that just pitched higher and higher. I ran over because I knew the little bugger had bitten her.

"That's IT! I have had it with the biting, Ryder!" and to prove my point, I pulled down his pants and diaper to smack his bare ass a good one. Only...

My hand, specifically my middle finger, rammed right into an assful of POOP. Gloppy, slimy poop. No hard rabbit turds here, folks. I know, GAG!

I froze, just completely froze, even stopped breathing. My eyes darted to Lena's and we stared at each other in goggle-eyed horror. Ryder just stood, cringing, no doubt still waiting for the ass-smacking.

Finally I snapped back into motion with a scream, "Aaaaaaaiiiiii!!!", marched Ryder to the bathroom and began the cleanup process, starting with an intensive scrubbing, disinfecting, nail-cleaning frenzy.

Just to teach Ryder a lesson, really traumatize the bugger, I said to him, "NO MORE BITING! Next time you bite someone I'm going to put POOP in your mouth!" and I quickly slid my finger (a completely different finger, and totally clean) in his mouth. He thought it was the other finger and that it was still poopy, and the look on his face! He shoved my hand away so fast and was spitting and gagging, scraping his tongue on a towel, yelling at me "I hate you! I hate you!".

Mean mommy? Ya probably. But if it makes him think twice next time he's in a chomping mood, then I guess it worked.

Did I not JUST talk about this?

I had known for over three weeks that Adam Lambert would be a guest on Oprah on Tuesday, January 19. A week prior to the show I received a text from Amber reminding me. The day of I made sure to check on the Shaw listings guide exactly what time the show was coming on. 5pm, I could hardly wait!

Around 3:45pm Gunnar arrived home from school and asked if he could go to a friend's house after he delivered papers. I didn't see why not so he called up his friend and made arrangements. He then informed me that I would have to drive him to his friend's house in Ryder's Ridge; here I'd thought the friend lived in Westwood. Oh well, no prob. I had to get a few things from Walmart anyway. I'd just drop Gunnar off, do my shopping with the other three kids in tow, then pick Gunn up on my way home. An hour to shop, an hour for him to 'play' at his friend's house (whatever 11 yr old boys do), it was a good plan.

Well, good plans are meant to go awry, right? An hour of shopping turned into an hour and a half. It was 6:15pm when I picked him up, giving us half an hour before I had to have him at the arena for a hockey practice. Thank God the friend's mom thought to feed him supper! We had just enough time to drive home, unload the groceries, get the hockey gear and race to the arena.

On the drive there, I had a nagging thought in the back of my mind. What was I forgetting? Then... it hit me. Adam. Oprah. A 3-week standing date with my obsession, missed! Because I went SHOPPING. At Walmart.

When the thought struck me, I was so shocked and horrified that I slammed on the brakes (good thing noone was behind me!) and looked at Gunnar with angry dismay, "YOU! I missed Oprah because YOU wanted to go to a friends house! Ohmygod, I can't believe I missed Adam on Oprah! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" (Of course I reassured Gunnar later that no, it wasn't really his fault, obviously it was mine for being such a forgetful airhead.)

I literally felt sick to my stomach. Didn't help matters when I returned home and saw someone had called and left a message while we'd been gone. It was Christine, informing me that Adam Lambert was on Oprah right now and there was some behind-the-scenes stuff going on and it was a great interview but I was probably already watching it right now, she just thought she'd call, you know, in case I was missing the show.

I am such a bad Glambert.

But guess what? YouTube to the rescue! I watched and favorited all four parts of the interview; was a little disappointed he sang Whataya Want From Me instead of Fever (I'm so obsessed with that song) but it was a great interview. And here's a part I found most interesting...

Adam: (talking about life before Idol, working in theatre and feeling bored) "I kinda asked for something to happen."
Oprah: "Asked who?"
Adam: "The Universe."
Oprah: "Okay, and HOW did you ask?"
Adam: "Positive projection. Affirmation. Really imagining what my life could be, and what I really wanted out of it."

He later stated the obvious, "The Universe came through in a big way."

But I find it so cool that Adam's comments mirror my theory exactly, that of positive thinking and true belief and how it really does work. Put something out there in the universe, with pure intention and thought, and it comes back. See, you guys? I'm even on the same wavelength as the guy! He is so totally mine.

Here's a clip of the first part of the interview; the convo starts around the 4:30 minute mark and his comments are at about 5:00.

The little DICKens!

You know who I'm talking about. Its a good thing he's adorable is all I'm sayin'...

There we were in the Parkland Mall bathroom. Due to an unexpected feminine emergency that made itself known as the children and I visited with Mall Santa, I'd rushed us all into the bathroom immediately afterwards. Into the handicap stall so Lena and Ryder wouldn't be all crammed in next to me. I (stupidly, I realize now) instructed them to stand by the far wall and for Lena to keep Ryder occupied. (This was done so they both wouldn't just stand there and stare at me!)

Ryder decided to occupy himself by walking over to the door and investigate the handle by turning it back and forth. It was like it all happened in slow motion...

The door slowly started to swing open...

Ryder stepped back to watch the door open wide, all the way.

Lena stood there and watched.

I hunched down on the pot, like that would somehow prevent the room's occupants from seeing me, and literally SQUEALED, "Aaiiiiieeee!! Lena! Close the door!" [I have never in my life heard that high-pitched sound come out of my mouth and I hope to never again.]

Someone outside the stall laughed. DAMN YOU!

Lena slowly sauntered over and took her sweet time closing and locking the door.

In real-time it all probably happened in 20 seconds, but to me it was like an hour. My face was beet red. I didn't want to leave the stall and face those people, especially the jerk that laughed. I quickly finished up and ushered the kids out so we could wash our hands.

I could feel everyone's amused eyes on me, so I took a deep breath, threw back my head and with a breezy smile on my face I exclaimed to the room, "Oh my god, out of all 4 kids he is the FIRST to do that me!"

And we all laughed, shook our heads at little Ryder (who, of course, looked adorably innocent and sweet) and a few even told their own stories of child-induced embarrassments.

So the moral of the story, for all you parents or future-parents of toddlers, is this: keep the kid next to you. Or, much easier, birth control.

Make it a double, please!

My household was just abuzz with activity this morning. So many things going on at once!

The boys meandered their way into the kitchen, twenty minutes after I got them up, in just their undies; I promptly sent them straight back downstairs to get dressed. "You guys know better, c'mon!"

They hemmed and hawed, couldn't decide what they wanted for breakfast; I slapped a box of cereal on the table.

I had to tell them three times to brush their teeth, they just kept dicking around downstairs.

Ardan wanted to wear a new pair of pants that hadn't been hemmed yet; out came the duct tape.

Gunnar hadn't emptied his lunchkit or backpack after school yesterday; I had to stand there, toe tapping, while he got everything sorted out. Only then was I able to pack his lunch.

Finished packing Ard's lunchkit, only to remember that today is hot lunch at the school and they get a KFC chicken burger.

In the midst of all this, Ryder woke up and started banging on his door, "WAKE. UP! WAKE. UP!" So Ardan went to let him out, and out runs Ryderman buck naked! Little bugger figured out how to take off his pajamas! But I was busy making lunches and 'supervising' my slow-ass boys, so I just let Ryder run around in the buff. No worries, right? I mean, after all, he was just playing with toy cars there in the livingroom. Only to see Ryder streak by and there was something on his leg. Peeked my head around the corner and saw a huge pile of steaming crap right there on the carpet. "Are you f*cking kidding me?? Why God, why??" So Ryder went to "jail" (trapped in the bathroom alone until I could clean him up) while I got out the baby wipes and cleaned the carpet. Thank heavens they were just rabbit turds, UGH. Put a diaper on the brat, with a stern warning NOT to take it off, and it was back to the morning madness.

Remembered that Tyler had said the boys were to wear long johns under their pants this morning because of the cold. The boys had to go back downstairs, grumbling all the while.

While they were down there, I yelled a reminder to find their winter boots, mitts and a hat. "But moooo-oo-ooommm, we don't know where our boots are!" I JUST told you that they're in the laundry room! And the mitts and hats are in bins in the cubby room! "But those boots don't fit us anymore!" How do you know, did you actually try them on? "No but they look too small." Well, friggin' try them on because I know for a fact your dad bought those new last year, and he purposely got them a bit big so they'd still fit THIS year! At this point, I realized how stupid it was to carry on a conversation with both parties having to yell at the top of their lungs because they are on different floors. "Okay, well, Ardan's boots fit but mine don't!" What?! Are you sure Gunnar? Okay well, I guess... try to find your hiking boots! What do you mean you don't know where they are? For the love of...!! So Gunnar went to school in runners, Ard in winter boots.

Ardan couldn't find a hat he liked (we only have like, a million winter hats) and decided on the green Grinch hat. Remember those hats? They were from when the boys were like five. So imagine that hat, stretched tightly over Ard's huge melon of a head. But he was adamant on wearing it to school. A great conversation piece, I guess.

Last minute panic as Gunnar couldn't find his school agenda. Frantic searching of the backpack and front entry; Lena found it under a coat. Crisis averted. Then the frantic search for a pen was on, so I could sign my initials.

Finally, finally, the boys were ready. Mitts, hat, lunchkits, agendas, long johns... going over the mental checklist as I do every morning. "Ooohhh poop! Sorry guys, I just noticed your coats aren't warm enough. You need a hoody on underneath." Groans, moans, grumbles as both boys trudged downstairs yet again.

I tell ya, mornings around here. Its enough to drive a woman to drink! Coffee, that is.

So good for the ego

Lena was helping me put away the laundry in my room today, I had her in charge of my dresser. So anything that belonged in the dresser, she would find the drawer it belonged in. This meant all my bras, panties, nighties, workout clothes, etc.

As I was in the closet hanging up shirts, I heard her say, "Whoa!" so I peeked my head out to see what was up. Here she had a pair of my panties in her hand. She looked at me and exclaimed, "These are sure big!"

Thanks, Lena. Thanks a lot.

Don't mind me, I'm just having a mental breakdown...

I love my life, my kids, and Hubs. I DO. Really. But sometimes I feel like my head is going to explode, and on my gravestone will be written, 'She was a good girl, but sometimes she went a little mental.'

It was Father's Day night, we'd just returned from camping and finished eating supper, and I was getting Ryder ready for bed. As I went to place him in the crib to get him changed into his jammies (makes it easier if he's confined and can't constantly run away from me), he started to gag. I had literally like one second warning, just enough time to tip his upper body toward the bedding (so much easier to clean up when all you have to do is gather up the blankets, take note), and he let it loose. Only, I had angled his body in such a way that not only did the puke spray his entire bed, but all the bars of the crib, the wall behind the crib, AND...*drum roll*... my Ed Hardy purse. Which had just happened to be on the floor beside the crib (I use it as a diaper bag).

Now, if you know me you know that that purse is my most prized possession, I take it everywhere and love to act smug when people comment on it. What can I say, I'm a wannabe fashionista.

At this point, my brain was already smokin-hot with disgust and rage, so I wasn't thinking too clearly. If I'd had a working braincell, I would have placed Ryder in the soaked crib to finish his puking episode. But I wasn't thinking. And I put him down on his green shag area rug. Which he promptly covered in more puke.

I lost it.

Stripped the kid down to bare skin, gathered up all the nasty bedding and clothes and threw them in the hamper, then used like a hundred babywipes to wash him down. Put a clean diaper on him and foisted him off on the boys, so I could concentrate on wiping down the crib, walls, and area rug. I wasn't even going to let myself think about my purse at that point.

I realized after a few seconds that the mess was simply too much, too chunky, to use a dampened cloth. So I filled an icecream bucket with warm water and started scrubbing. At some point I noticed that my shirt was wet, but what I thought was puke spray was actually tears. I hadn't even noticed that I was sobbing my eyes out. I saw something out of the corner of my eye and turned to look, and saw Gunnar standing at the bedroom door, staring at me with obvious concern. He must've heard the insane wailing and wanted to see if I was okay. I couldn't even talk to reassure him that no, I wasn't in the midst of a mental breakdown (which would have been a lie), all I could do was weakly gesture to my purse. He got it.

And so during the half hour it took to wipe everything down, I just let myself cry it out. I was muttering, I was cursing, I was outright screaming at one point (probably when I realized that no amount of picking and scrubbing was going to get the chunks out of the shag area rug). I knew I was acting completely insane but I didn't care. It was so unfair! Why did this have to happen to me? Why did Hubs get to sit out in the livingroom and not even extend an offer of help? Just because it was Father's Day? Why should he be so special? Why was I cursed to have a child with such a sensitive gag reflex? Did he have to puke on every single bar of the crib, when they are impossible to clean without dismantling the entire thing and hosing it down? And for the love of God, why did he have to get my Ed Hardy purse?!!?

By the time I finished, with the cleaning AND the crying, I was in that hiccuping phase of crying and all I wanted to do was just go to bed for the rest of my life. But, being a FREAKING MOM, oh no, I had to remake the bed, get the little brat in his jammies, frantically spray the room and carpet with Febreze, make the brat's bottle and put him to bed, THEN and only then could I let myself think about my purse.

I was dreading to even look at it. How bad was the damage? I'd only seen the puke on one side of it, but what if it was entirely covered? What if the puke got inside the purse? What if it was all in the zipper and buckles?

My relief at seeing the actual damage was overwhelming. It wasn't that bad at all!! None got inside, and the zipper was safe. Still, there was enough on it that I had to spray it down with the shower nozzle at full-blast. Took a while (I had to obsessively go over every inch of the material), but it actually looked brand new when I was finished. I hung it up to dry.

Then I went into the livingroom and because misery loves company, and I was a miserable bitch just then, I let Hubs have it. In that super-sweet voice most men have learned to fear, I said "Thank you sooo much for all the help in there, I really appreciate it. It meant so much to me that you cared about my mental state and came to see if I was alright and needed some help." Of course, he blustered and got defensive, typical man. But I'd said my piece so I just let it drop and went to my room to read and chain smoke and chill myself out.

But I got my revenge an hour later when Hubs went out to unload the bikes from the trailer and all the other gear that was in there. Because we'd driven home in the rain on gravel roads, everything was covered in grimy sandy dirt, including the motorhome. Rather than go to the carwash to clean it all (and end up spending like a hundred bucks) he washed it himself with our little pressure washer. It was raining outside, and between that and the backspray from the pressure washer, he was soaked in seconds. He was out there for over an hour. And did I offer to help? NO.

What goes around, comes around, baby.

Advice for the Unaware Parent

Put yourself in the shoes of a parent -- your sweet, innocent baby is born and you are filled with overwhelming love for this child; as the first year goes by and each milestone is met with joy and pride, you are convinced there has never been a more smart, amazing, wonderful child as yours; then you enter the toddler years and even though your child starts displaying some questionable behaviour, you know that your little angel is still perfect and wonderful.

Then you find yourself in a situation that requires a certain amount of decorum and respectful behaviour, and you start to wonder whether your sweet toddler can handle it. Of course, a toddler is what it is, and therefore a certain amount of leniency must be given by both the parents and the other people attending this solemn event. But if that event is a FUNERAL, well...

So heed this advice, all you parents of toddlers, and maybe you can avoid going through what I went through today...

• Remember that one bottle is never enough, always have a spare one packed, in the event that your hungry child has already downed almost the entire bottle by the time you arrive at the funeral. Because said child will give no thought to the fact that the service has started and the entire room is filled with respectful silence, while he sucks desperately at the empty bottle and eventually starts to bang the empty bottle against the nearest hard object so as to obtain the maximum noise level that demonstrates his annoyance with you.
• Always make sure your adorable toddler has had his nap BEFORE the funeral starts, and not just a ten-minute catnap on the drive there. Because an irritable, hyper, over-tired toddler that continues to crawl all over you, and the person sitting next to you, while the family of the deceased are giving their eulogies, is just downright annoying and EMBARRASSING.
• When your precious toddler has finally pissed you and entire congregation off enough and you decide to take him and leave the room, give careful thought to your footwear of choice. If you are wearing heels, the loud click-clack of the heels slapping against the linoleum WILL cause the majority of the room to turn and look at you. So be prepared to put on your best I'm-so-sorry-what-can-I-say-he's-a-toddler face, and hightail it out of there as fast as you can.
• If you make the poor decision to take your rambunctious toddler into the bathroom, in the hope that he will be able to entertain himself in there without causing noise, please note that that decision WILL backfire on you. Not only will your child decide to entertain himself by playing in the toilet water, flushing every single toilet repeatedly, pull all the toilet paper and paper towels off the rolls, and scream with delight at each of these actions, the noise will reach a certain level that echoes throughout the bathroom and amplifies itself so that the entire building will ring out with the sounds of your child's innocent joy.
• If you make the poor decision to take your beautiful toddler into the hallway, thinking that nothing could be worse than the bathroom ordeal, you will be wrong. First of all, there is no other option for a hyper baby to expend his energy in a hallway than by running frantically back and forth from one end to another. And if you thought the sound of your heels slapping on the floor was loud, imagine what a tiny pair of sneakers can do.
• With those two options decidedly out, the only other realistic thing you can do, besides going back into the room, is to take your angelic toddler outside to let him play and use up all that energy. And this is why a seasoned parent would have packed another set of clothes just for play and not 'show' (meaning dressy clothes) and you could then change your child into those clothes and they could play in the dirt and rocks and dandelions till their hearts content without ruining their nice 'funeral clothes'. A dough-head parent, such as myself, would not think to change the child into those play clothes, and thus at the end of outside playtime your toddler will be covered in dust and grime and grass stains and dandelion fluff.
• When you've decided that its time to go back inside and get out of the boiling sun that has melted your makeup and flattened your hair into a sweaty, over-hairsprayed mess, make sure that you have actually given your wonderful toddler enough time to burn off all that energy. Because if you haven't, you are just putting yourself right back at square one when you finally sit your exhausted ass back in your seat.
• So by this time, the entire room is well aware of your predicament and the fact that you made an honest effort to spare them has now given them an appreciation of you, and they are less likely to get upset when your sweet toddler continues to act the brat. Also, enough time has gone by that the funeral is almost over and everyone is either starting to get antsy or they are so overcome by emotion that they are looking for an amusing diversion. And so when your toddler decides that it is the most hilarious thing ever to find a spare row of seats and step/crawl/hop over from seat to seat, going down the entire row back and forth, you will find that almost every face has a huge smile and twinkling eyes, and they now think that he is just the most adorable and cutest thing ever. Some will even interact with him, holding out their arms in a 'come-to-grandma' way, chuckling when he gives them the hairy eyeball and looks at their outstretched arms with wary suspicion. They will turn to each other and remark at what a "high-spirited" boy he is (which is a very nice roundabout way of saying 'hyper') and they will comment on his pinkened cheeks (note: bring sunscreen) and sparkling eyes.
• By the time the funeral has ended, your toddler's antics and the obvious hardships you've endured trying to deal with them, has endeared everyone to you and they feel like they've known you forever. (More of a case of 'been-there-done-that' and they can relate and sympathize.) Now starts the socializing part of the funeral, where relatives and old friends reconnect and chitchat. And every single person will make a point of bringing the conversation around to your toddler and what a patient parent you are. Of course, you know differently (after all, they didn't see that moment in the bathroom where your hand just wanted to spank that bum soooo bad), but never let them know that. They now think you are a candidate for sainthood, ESPECIALLY when they realize that the three other children in the row beside you are also yours. "FOUR CHILDREN! How do you do it?!?" (If you have even a drop of Simcoe blood, your tongue will just be itching to reply, "Whenever we can find a spare moment alone!" HAH!)
• And the last piece of advice that I can give you is this: do not hesitate for even one second to take advantage of the fact that your in-laws brought their kids as well, and simply pawn your amazing toddler off on them. If one of the kids happens to be over 16, BONUS!! Now you can let your toddler go off with the teen and know that you can just sit back and relax, have a cup of coffee or two, and let all that stress and hassle just roll off your shoulders directly onto the teen who is now chasing your rowdy toddler around the parking lot.

What can I say, we're a cl-ASS-y family

Hubs and I took the kids to the beach a few evenings ago. It had been such a hot day and we thought it'd be nice to have supper on the beach and let the kids play in the sand (what little sand there is!). We had a thoroughly wonderful time. Gunnar and Ardan took turns taking out the kayak, Lena made a sweet sandcastle, and Ryder... You guys, that kid is nuts about the water! He didn't care about how cold it was, he was constantly running in and out of the water, splashing whoever was nearest him. And he loves sand! He kept bringing me handfuls of sand. Uh, thank you? Haha.

I'd packed a little supper of baked chicken thighs, watermelon, chips, and chocolate cookies. Everyone gorged themselves, then went right back to the sand and water (Ard even decided to be super-brave and dive in). Ryder had gone a little nuts on the cookies and his face from the nose down was covered in brown cookie gunk.

I was laying on a towel, suntanning and reading a book while Hubs sat in his lawnchair beside me, watching the kids. So relaxing. Ryder came up to me and must have been in a lovey-dovey mood because he draped himself over my thighs (I was laying on my stomach) and planted a huge wet kiss right on my ass! Then he rubbed his face right into my buttcrack! I was a little embarrassed, I mean people were constantly walking by us. So I wiggled him off of me. We were all laughing hilariously, until it hit me --- the cookie gunk! (Because, yeah, I'm a horrible mom and I hadn't washed it off his face.) I turned to Ty with dread and asked how bad the damage was on my butt, could you see anything? Dead silence. Then, "Uh, yeah. And its bad." How bad? "Uh, well, it kinda looks like you had a major accident in your pants." What?! Oh no! I immediately rolled over so the people walking by wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, Ardan had come in from his swim and decided to change into his dry clothes. Right there, on the beach. Just stripped right down to utter nakedness. Ty gave him a towel to drape over his lower half, and what did the kid do? He just bunched it up between his clenched thighs so it covered his crotch. His back was turned to the street so unbeknownst to him, he was totally mooning all the passing cars! Gunnar and I realized this, and in started the giggle-fit. Literally laughing so hard that we were chortling and gurgling and choking on our spit. Ardan was in the process of trying to pull his drenched skin-tight shirt over his head, so his arms were trapped, and there was nothing he could do about it, other than turn around so his bare ass was now in our faces. Except then the worst happened... his towel started slipping! In mere moments it was down around his ankles and his entire crotch was now hanging out (well, not really, shrinkage you know) for all the cars driving by to see! At this point, Gunn and I were laughing so hard we couldn't even speak. I tried getting Ty's attention, I really did, so he could help Ard with the towel but he was off collecting the beach toys. Eventually Ardan got the shirt off and had that towel yanked back up so quickly. I could barely even breath, I was still laughing so hard.

After that, we realized we'd been down there for over two hours and it was time to go home. Except... no way was I getting off my towel and showing my cookie-covered ass to everyone walking and driving by. So I made Ty and the kids load everything up while I sat there. I'm sure I looked like a total lazy ass. I even made Ty get Lena and Ryder in their carseats. I mean, obviously I'm not going to do it, and have my ass hanging out for all the world to see. I purposely waited till there was no traffic and no pedestrians walking around, before I ran to the vehicle and jumped in.

How embar-ASS-ing!!