Friday, January 31, 2014

Three Year Olds Read The Titles of Classic Literature

"I can't even handle this right now."

Afternoon Readers,

Keeping the bigger kids distracted has become a daily chore. And no napping means they've decided to fill that void by following me around and asking the same question, over and over again. Correction, they stay busy by asking questions and dumping cocoa all over the coffee table.

Please hold.

Where was I? Right, small human beings, inquiring minds, no naps.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

The Horrible No Good Day

Donna smiled on the outside, but only because she didn't have the heart to tell Bob she'd gotten so tired of laundry, she'd set his boxers on fire.
Afternoon Readers,

I've been blessed to know many honorable people in my time, who, when times get tough, shoulder the burden, keep their chin up, and let the experience improve both character and outlook. They don't complain, and choose instead to smile all the way through whatever sinkhole life has dropped them into.

I admire them.

I appreciate them.

I am not one of those people.

Monday, January 27, 2014

The Old Watering Hole

"Howdy, mam. Point me to your Kohler."

Morning Readers,

If you were to ask our friends how much Husband and I get out of the house, dollars to donuts, they'd probably look at you and say, "Who?"

Besides a social life, the only other casualty this relationship has suffered is an accurate point of reference for normal behavior. We don't get out, spend almost one hundred percent of our time telling people to stop eating things they find on the garage floor, and, because of this, end up waist deep in conversations about what "people in the real world" do.

"Well, they don't do that."

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Kickin' the Bottle

"Are we supposed to watch the little lush?" .... "Nah. Dad says mom can take care of herself."

Afternoon Readers,

If you tuned in today to read about how I quit drinking, you're probably new here, and it was an honest mistake.

No, don't feel bad. Everyone loves a story of redemption, new life and sobering up.

This is not that story.

Today's selection comes from deep within the recesses of my crappy parenting decisions, a place where angels fear to tread and socks never match. Long story mercifully short, Doc is seventeen months old and just now sleeps through the night. I can't tell you how hard it is having a defective baby.

Ok, it's totally my fault. Turns out, the twins sleeping through the night at three months was simply a boon from God not to kill myself from sleep deprivation. Though polite, the third child is a terrible sleeper, and the only way I've convinced him to crash is to give him a bottle every time he wakes up at night. Husband and I recently realized this had gotten out of control.

"So, did the baby get up last night?"

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

How To Make a Woman Pay 2.50 For a Cupcake at Panera

"I mean, it's nice. But will it wash my car?"
Morning Readers,

I'm a hermit. I can admit it.

Contrary to popular opinion, my social life died a long time before I had kids (although, they do aggravate the condition to the point my interaction with other adults boils down to offering them a sippy cup of juice.) It takes a lot to extract me from the Split level and make sure I have shoes on.

The house is warm.

Going outside requires putting on a bra.

Driving the car and hoping the bumper doesn't fall off takes more effort than sitting on the couch and drinking coffee.

All are good reasons to just stay put. However, after the last two weeks of solid cabin fever, head colds, and watching the kids vote on whether or not they should kick me out, an invitation for coffee, from an old college friend, was just the motivation I needed to grab some leggings, find my coat, and get the hell out of Dodge.

Friday, January 17, 2014

Because I'm Not a Tax Man

"Remember to buy your monkey suspenders so you can pass them off as a dependent."

Morning Readers,

Well, it's Friday. Which means absolutely nothing to me because I thought today was Saturday and had to ask Husband for some clarification.

Ugh, I don't even know how I'm going to write this post, I'm so distracted by Salvador Perez pressing his face against the front window and mewing like we never feed him and don't let him sleep in the warm basement, on a couch he has all to himself.  That cat has no responsibilities. He really needs to get a job and stop staring at me.

*Goes to get coffee and ignore possessed animal*

Ok, the cat left, so I can get back to the grind, which more or less includes feeding the children and preparing excuses for my tax person. Normally, I do our taxes, and I relish every single deduction I'm guessing we can take, but this year I'm handing over the reigns to a professional.  Husband's relieved, if only for the reason we don't have to have this conversation anymore:

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

A Polite Baby

"It's your parenting manual. You won't use it, but it props open doors real nice."
Morning Readers,

You know what I love about the baby? Well, yes, he does have a fabulous, curly, thick head of hair that, if left unchecked, looks like a seventies game show host, but besides that.

He says "Thank you."

This may not seem like a big deal, but considering my other two children show gratitude by telling me my stomach's "squishy" and then running the other direction, I'd say a thirty-three-percent success rate has been bumped up to a hundred percent for the new year.

It's not that I haven't been doing my damnedest to teach the twins manners, it's simply that, when you have two three-year-olds at the same time, you start using words like 'damnedest' and an assortment of other choice expletives, and then you just hope they grow up, pay their taxes, and not go to prison.

But the third one? Oh, he is a polite baby. Which prompts me to think Husband and haven't necessarily become better parents, so much as the more children we have, things will probably just work themselves out to the point our newborns will offer to paralell park the car when I can't.

(Which is all the time. So that's actually a huge relief.)

However, there is a possibility Doc will get too classy for the family, a big reason I had to sit our courteous baby down yesterday and have a serious talk:

"I see you're eating that Hamburger Helper with a fork."

"Tank you."

"You're welcome. Now then, where's this urge to be so polite coming from? You insist on utensils, when, clearly, the rest of the residents here choose to use their hands to gain sustenance."


"Here you go."

"Tank you."

"You're welcome. Considering the fact I fed you children three out of three meals on paper plates yesterday, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you've been watching too much Downton Abbey."

"Tank you."

"Please, no spoilers. I'm still catching up."

"Tank you."

"You just really like saying that, don't you?"

"Tank you."

Hard hitting, investigative journalism tells me this may just be a phase, but, in the event it sticks for the rest of his life, please make sure to forward my parenting award to whatever house we end up in next. Yes, I already stated I don't deserve it, but if our new house has a mantel, we may need something to put on it. Tank you.

Until Next Time, Readers!


Monday, January 13, 2014

As I Lay Dying ...again

"And here you have the body of a young stay at home mother who was smothered by her children while she had the flu. Incredibly sad."

Morning Readers,

Oh, cruel fate. I have to say, there's nothing a mother in charge of small children enjoys more than being sick for a week and half, feeling at the top of her game for two days, and then coming down with the plague right after.

Health, it was great while it lasted, which is almost as long as the children held any pity in their hearts for me. Roughly, about eight seconds. The thing about this cold is that it's about five times worse than the cold I had two weeks ago.

It also might be the flu.

Or Malaria.

Or Lyme disease. But probably the flu, because Web MD tends to humor me a little too much on the, "I'm dying" front. Who wants to be humored on that front? you ask. I do. I've got over five hundred blog posts that need to be added in my will somewhere, and it's always nice to know how much time you have to put off that all important call to the attorney you have yet to hire.

The question as to who inherits those post is top secret. Or I may give them away in a Rafflecopter. Depends if I have Lyme disease or not.

It's been a long time since I was so sick I had to park on the couch and let Husband take over completely, and the only thing more difficult than turning over the reigns has been convincing the house I'm actually sick. Luckily, various stragglers past my sickly perch have been kind enough to comment on my current status.

Things I've heard in between Sudafed and NyQuil binges...

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Lights, Camera, Spanx

Afternoon Readers,

Ahh, sweet freedom. Although it's still ridiculously cold in our neck of the woods, the snow has melted just a bit, leaving me the smallest of leeways to sneak out of the driveway and run errands this week.

And by "run errands," I actually mean I got to go shopping, pick out things that didn't fit, and stare at my confused expression in the dressing room mirror. Thereby confirming suspicions I should've stayed home, waited for the next snow, and built and igloo around myself and my stretch marks.

I hear it both tones and tightens and hides you from direct paths of vision.

As luck would have it, the local morning show here in Kansas City asked me to come back and talk about New Year's resolutions, so finding something to wear that didn't have holes in it was on the menu. Thankfully, Husband was home this week so I could go on my little retail excursion and drown in polyseter and junior's sizes mistakenly put in the women's section.

Monday, January 6, 2014

Snowed In: Strange Behavior Edition

Afternoon Readers,

Well, it's officially January in Kansas, which means the weather here is sucking our will to live. A new blanket of snow was thrown over our dreams of escape, two days ago, and the cabin fever is not so much the log cabin type, as it is the cabin from the boat in the movie Jaws.

Coloring, Leap Pads, TV and letting kids hit you repeatedly over the head with plastic spoons will only keep offspring happy for so long, before everyone resorts to sitting around and staring at each other and growling. With, roughly, three more months of these conditions left to endure, here are some of the behavioral trends I'm timidly noting:

Friday, January 3, 2014

I Think I Checked These Out Ten Years Ago

"Fishing, film, flamenco. There's nothing in here about faking your own death."
Afternoon Readers,

Times this week I said, "I think I'm dying." = 505

Times Husband actually believed me = 1 (And even then I only got a pat on the back and a, "Do you know where my shoes are?)

So, now that I'm back to my normal self, the massive task of getting the Split level ready for sale is staring back at me, simply begging for mundane tasks to be completed and all our worldly possessions thrown in the dumpster so we don't have to actually move them. As I've stated previously, all of our stuff has been broken by the children, but it doesn't change the fact there's a lot of it.

(I'm cringing at the thought of lugging two tubs comprised of fifty-percent mismatched building blocks, thirty-percent Gladware lids, and twenty-percent partially stuffed stuffed animals anywhere.)

One thing I've noticed about trying to get ready to move are the miniscule yet strange tasks I've come face to face with that need attention. For instance, I have a stack of library books I borrowed from my college library back in 2005.