More Fall Fun

Yesterday we did the Fall Festival at Whole Foods. My kids loved it! For $29 we got to play a million and two games, we all had dinner there, and my step son and I took advantage of the Happy Hour offerings as well. For a family of 7 (my oldest daughter had better things to do) it was one heck of a deal!

They had a pony and two goats that were so sweet. Way cuter and sweeter than the ones at the zoo, and I think maybe now that I want a goat. How much room do goats need to roam anyway? One of the goats (named Molly, like our dog) walked right up to my one year old and nuzzled her hands and let my daughter rub her head. Bam! Love at first nibble!

They were tricky, Whole Foods, that is, and they failed to advertise the goldfish prizes they were doling out...and I don't mean the snack cracker. My kids won 9 fish. One of the bags broke in the stroller and I had a good laugh as my step son was made to find the escapee and rescue it. I hate fish. I hate fish and I am now the proud owner of a new 10 gallon tank for these gosh darn things.

My oldest son participated in the pie eating contest. He got cherry, his least favourite. I enjoyed watching him eat it, the look on his face after the first bite was priceless. Needless to say, he was not a winner. It was fun though. He assures me the next time he enters a pie eating contest, that he'll find out what flavors the pies are first.

It was a really fun night for all. I'm glad that we went.

It's raining cats and dogs...Florida style

You guys do remember me mentioning that I am terrified of lizards? No, well I am. I am not from a part of the country where lizards are prevalent and they freak me out. Badly.

So, because I am irrationally frightened of them, they find me everywhere I go. Yesterday, I was leaving Whole Foods and this happened:




A lizard fell out of the sky onto my windshield. I stopped the car and fortunately I was rescued by the bag boy, who picked it up (with his hands...eeeeeewww!) and put in in the grass.

Stupid lizards. Why can't I run into other Florida wildlife like black bears and gators? I'm not afraid of them!

Craziness and histrionics

Please tell me if I am inviting total insanity and abject misery into my home and heart if I send my otherwise not busy step son to a carpet laying class at the hardware store, have him enlist the help of his friends and replace our carpeting on the upper level for say $300. I am really, seriously considering this. That would be crazy? Right? Bloggy pals, help me out. Talk me 'in' or 'out' of this insanity, please!

If my oldest child doesn't STFU in about a second, I am pretty sure my brain will explode. What I am hearing is this...

LB: Where are your car keys?
LB: C'mon Mom, I need 'em.
LB: A coffee drink! You didn't get me one.
LB: When are you going to buy me another one of those coffee drinks? (yes Tanya, I took your advice!)
LB: When are you going to get me another game for my DS?
LB: You're gonna find my gym clothes for tomorrow.
LB: Oh man, the baby is waking up.
LB: Why are you crying? *fine, I'm extrapolating here*

The above speech (my son's take on a soliloquy...for sure!) was uttered without him taking a single breath, about two inches from my ear. *sigh*

That's why we feel so at home in the zoo

A few random thoughts as I get ready for the zoo...

I am desperately searching my home for a pacifier (any pacifier, please let me find a pacifier) and the matching shoe to any of my daughter's three pairs. Why is it that we (at least me) are never prepared for how adept newly mobile children are at losing things?

I just read an article in which surviving life with three children under three was the topic. I had to laugh. I sure hope there is another way, because if I go that route, I will have to sell one of those children under three to pay for it. Without asking anyone to delve too deeply into their finances, would having organic meals delivered to your door be within your budget? Also, how do you spend one on one time with your kids if you are an only parent (per se) and have a hard (impossible) time finding a babysitter that doesn't run away when you tell them they'll be watching five kids? What did ring true? That having three children so small will be one of, if not THE, most difficult time(s) in any mother's life.

My husband recently sent me the most loving email:
Hi Baby, Did you find the phone, stand by , I will call you right now.
Yep, that was the whole email start to finish. Funny how standards for romance change.

Oh snap! I just remembered that I forgot to charge my camera after the last zoo trip it died on. At this rate, my children will look back at their childhood photographs and think they were raised in a zoo...oh wait...that's actually kinda accurate...carry on.

Have you all considered the possibility that pregnancy and childbirth aren't really the cause of incontinence in most women? My theory states that the children themselves are the cause. For example, a couple of days ago, some nice young men rang my door and wanted to talk about religion. They kept talking, the dogs kept barking (they will stand down, but, I forgot to tell 'em to) and I kept hoping (fervently) that they would let me shut the door before I wet my pants. See, listening to those kids was the longest I had been still all day (it was 2:00 p.m.) and my bladder finally kicked in and said, "you were going to help me out when you woke up this morning, but, noooo, you kept procrastinating. Sure this baby cried, that baby cried, the dogs had to go, the kids had to eat, the babies cried, the dogs had to eat, the dishwasher had to be loaded, the kids had to eat again. Heh! You'll be sorry for sure if you piss your pants in front of these kids." Thankfully I was able to slam the door shut and make a mad dash to the bathroom.

What do you think though? Moms with leaky bladders? When was the last time you were able to go? Yesterday sometime? Yeah, your problem might not be incontinence, it could just be incompetence, to be as in sync with your bodily functions as you are with those of your children. Don't worry, you aren't alone! I'm right here with ya.

My goal is to leave the house no later than 8:30 this fine Sunday morning...wish me luck!

People are not my favorite creatures

Yesterday at Costco, I chased down a woman (for lack of a better description) that had felt the need to make an unkind remark about me in a rather loud stage whisper to her husband. Apparently, she felt the need to be concerned about what my children were doing, and what I wasn't doing in response. Hey Lady? F#%k you!

I followed her to the door repeating, "excuse me, excuse me," ever louder as I did so. Finally, she turned around, unable to ignore me any more. I must admit that I was running solely on adrenaline and it hadn't really kicked in what I planned to do or say once she acknowledged me. I chose to inform her that I had heard what she said and that I thought she had been unnecessarily and deliberately unkind. I managed all this without a single four letter word (I'm so proud of me, you don't have any idea) although I might have been rather loud in doing so.

She maintained that all she had said was for my daughter to sit down. That wasn't all she had said though. I didn't want anything in particular other than to say that words have consequences. That maybe thinking before speaking, especially in a judgemental way, is better. I wanted to hear her say a simple, "I'm sorry if I offended you." Which means that I'm a flipping idiot.

She wasn't sorry, she was adamant that being a bitch is her right. Fine. I knew that. Afterall, my own mother is one of those people, as long as they feel righteous about what they are doing or saying, how their words or actions might make others feel is not their problem.

So, after thirty years working on this same lesson...what have I learned? Not a darn thing. Not a single darn thing.

Leave God, if you believe in him, to judge. Instead of feeling the need to be superior, feel the need to offer compassion. Instead of judging the frazzled mom next time you see her in a store, smile and say, "I have those days too." Be the better person, not the one who doesn't give a shit. Please.

In other news, I know how the Manson parents felt before they died. Last night my son woke me up holding the biggest knife we own. He scared the crap out of me. "Mom, he asked, "can I carve my pumpkin now?" What would you all have said?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Okay, through the fabulous world of blogging, a new bloggy pal has come into my life. She is a pretty awesome gal, and she hosts a Wednesday feature called Willowjak Wednesday Warriors. This Wednesday she has really put herself out there on her blog. I am loving her post, because, boy, oh boy, can I do *un*perfect. So, I'm following in her footsteps today and letting her know that I can never try my hand at being one her Warriors because:

1. I cry at least once a week too. I do feel sorry for myself. I miss my husband. I miss being part of a team. Also, I cry when I get overtired, which I am a lot.
2. Actually, I'm cool with mice, I think they are kinda cute, but, I am terrified of bugs and lizards. If an insect or a lizard were crawling on my child, we would end up at the E.R. and then CPS would get called in, because my method of removal would have to be vacuum hose extraction, which as you might have noticed, I don't think would end well.
3. I eat organic. Sadly, this includes quite a bit of organic wine and beer...which goes well with organic cheese and chips. Which means that the number on my scale is saying, "jeez Babe, you gonna lay off those binge nights soon, right?"
4. Mint Bailey's rocks! There is nothing bad that can be said about a person who starts their day off with Mint Bailey's, that person just has really good taste.
5. My wrists hurt. I tear up when I write, or pick up a baby, and sometimes I can't take a shower because it hurts too much to unsnap my bra. I won't go to the doctor because I don't want to hear what is wrong. *Better living through denial Baby!*
6. Shallow? I can do shallow. I fell for my husband because his biceps measured 32" in circumference...each. He also has a really sexy five o'clock shadow. There are times I look at him now and I'm sad for the physique he used to have...like the extra 40 pounds I'm carrying are super sexy!!!???
7. I guess I could run, if a lizard was chasing me, but, I don't really want to find out. Physical exercise is highly overrated.
8. I am always a miserable bitch, but, sometimes I hide it better than others. This is what stress can do to a girl. I'm hoping that it will pass with time.

One drink you should definitely try if you like Bailey's? A Popped Cherry.

1/2 shot Bailey's (maybe a little more)

1/2 shot DiSarronno (no extra here)

half and half to taste

Serve over ice or chill as a shot. Top with a cherry...because (my turn to be vulgar) it isn't the cherry, it's the box it came in that matters!

I love cold weather!

This past weekend was a busy one. I had been eagerly anticipating the weather. For the first time in better than a year, the high temp dropped out of the 80's (or worse) and the high for last Saturday was 67 degrees! I have been in heaven. When the temps drop, I get busy. Saturday we went to the zoo, out to dinner, and to the pumpkin patch. Sunday we stayed home and I cleaned, made beef stew, for which I sacrificed a half a bottle of organic red wine, mashed potatoes to serve with it, and baked pumpkin pie for dessert. Tonight we are having leftover stew (isn't it always better the next day) and shoo fly pie. I even had chocolate chip cookies coming out of the oven as the kids came home from school today.

LB, JB, Mommy, Leila, BB, TLL, and H on the tractor

TLL climbing into her pumpkin carriage

I am off to walk the dogs! I. Love. The. Cold. Just ask my kids, I drove them to school this morning with all the windows down basking in the forty degree temperature!

LB, BB, JB, H, and S at the zoo...scaling the walls of course!

My little pumpkin

No worries, by Wednesday it'll be back in the 80's and I'll be over my Martha Stewart like glee.

H and Mommy at the zoo

Intervention

Apparently, this was the morning of my scheduled intervention. My eldest son sat me down (while I was sipping on my third cup of joe) and educated me about caffeine and the ill effects it has. He told me that he was concerned that I have become too reliant on coffee, and that he worries about my health. He informed me that I will have to drink more and more coffee to achieved the desired effects because my body will build up a tolerance. At that point I excused myself to brew another cup as I heard my coffee maker prime, "no ships* Sherlock," I said because he won't take it personally, and because, well...No. Shit. Sherlock.

*"Holy Ships!" is a quote from the movie El Dorado, when my oldest was 2-3 he repeated it at every opportunity. It is still a favorite substitution around our house for less appropriate words today.

The mommy vibe

There is just something about me that kids like. I am the strange woman at the grocery store that your baby is smiling and waving at. I am the mother who leaves the school cafeteria after being hugged by 10 kids she didn't know from Adam a half hour ago. I am the lady on the playground that has been entertaining your child for the last hour while you talked on your cell phone. That's me.

I have a theory. I think kids are like cats. They are able to sense who is a kid person and who isn't. Once they have determined that you are in fact not a kid person, they rub on you extra hard and with far more enthusiasm than the situation warrants. You have become a challenge, at best they will win you over with their big eyes and their charm, at worst, they'll get a charge out of annoying you.

It isn't that I dislike cats or kids, I have both and I love them completely. It is more that I often feel that with six kids, two dogs, and two cats always vying for my attention, I've got quite enough of my own to worry about. However, strange children and animals always seem to latch onto me.

When I took my son to play at an amazing indoor playground, a little boy with Down Syndrome, adopted me immediately. He walked up to me before I had even gotten through the gate and tapped me on the back, "Mom, go!" I smiled and shook my head no a few times before he came and sat on my lap, signing something that I didn't understand over and over. We played for hours (without his father looking up once from his laptop...whatever) and now I see him at the kids' school, where his face lights up like a Christmas tree when he catches sight of me. He is really very adorable, ya know, considering I don't like kids.

Then, yesterday at the coin laundry I made a new bff. He is two. I know his name, his favorite toys, what he wants to be for Halloween, and his candy preferences. He spent two solid hours running after me and helping me do laundry. He was none too pleased that his parents wouldn't let him leave with me. I was thinking that there was a reason that I hadn't brought my own toddler. He was sweet though, a really sweet boy.

The question remains, how can I get my own children to bask in my glory like that? A little, "please Mom, let me help fold clothes just so I can hang with you," would make me all warm and fuzzy.

Several random reasons you are glad you aren't my children

Let me tell you about my dream. The fact that I had a dream at all is indeed somewhat noteworthy. It is rare that I am able to sleep long enough or well enough to dream. Last night though, dream I did. I dreamt about a cartoon villain that sounded a lot like Aladdin's Jafar, he had an evil laugh, and his name was The Toddler's Apprentice. I don't think I'll be needing Freud to analyze this one for me.

I came across a blog post yesterday that made me laugh so hard I cried. I am going to give you all the link, but, please note that the father who wrote it was seriously sleep deprived and as a result, the post is very vulgar. It is also very, very funny. If occasional vulgar humor doesn't bother you, definitely click here.

The Little Lady (my 1 year old) has three pairs of shoes, or to be more accurate, she has one pair and two shoes. Hercules (3) has five pairs, or, to be more accurate, he has a pair of sandals and four shoes. Where, oh where, have all the shoes gone? I knew about the sock eating monster in the laundry room, but, this, this is ridiculous.

Let's talk about home improvement for a minute, shall we? My front door, the one that you may remember my grandfather started fixing last February? It still has an unfinished frame that needs to be trimmed and a two inch hole between the top of the door and the frame. My backyard, the one that was painstakingly (no, not by me for sure) cleared of poison ivy? It isn't finished either. Of course, now the ivy is coming back. Bugs. I hate bugs. There is a ginormous hole behind our kitchen cabinets between my house and the next door neighbor's home. It goes like this...we have the house sprayed and the bugs run from our side over to his. Things are great for awhile. Then we see the exterminator next door...and they come back to our house. It is a never ending dance, sort of like the one the steps do between our home and their mom's, only less pestilential. The roof isn't fixed from hurricane season two years ago. The stove has two working burners, but, since they are never the same two, it keeps me on my toes. The bathrooms? Are all working at the same time! Yay! For those you you still reading, the score is one for us, and five for this hole. Meanwhile, I hear my hubby's digs in Miami are sweet, but, as I've never seen 'em, I have to take his word for it.

I need to go and fix coffee now. The only caffeine I have as of yet consumed is the bottled, organic coffee from Costco (which believe me people, only looks like a Frappucino) and I am jonesing.

Today's plan? More frigging laundry. Which, will take place at the coin laundry, because, my washer is dead, dead, dead. Which is exactly what may become of me if the a/c is still out at the coin laundry. Friggin' Florida.

Sleep deprivation and awards (maybe, I might be hallucinating)

My three year old finally collapsed. After returning him to his bed approximately 1,999,999 times, I gave up and let him run around the family room while I sterilized bottles, played on the computer, and put away laundry. He has fallen asleep still holding a book on the bottom stair. It is 1:00 a.m. I used to love it when he napped during the day, but, I feel that way no longer, because even the shortest of naps overcharges his batteries and then we have marathon sleepy time struggles like we experienced tonight. I. Am. So. Tired.

Jen over at Diagnosis: Urine has given me an award which cheers me up greatly. Thanks Jen! The easy part is passing it on, six of my favorite bloggers are:

1. Monica at I'll Raise You 5


2. Tanya at Our 'Homemade' Family'


3. Cindy at Oh Crap! Life Lessons of raising 6 Children


4. Kim at Stuck in the Suburbs


5. Shosh at Day by Glorious Day


6. Stacey at Willowjak Boys

Now, should you want to pass on the love, the rules are simple, answer the following 35 questions in one word and name six of your favorite bloggers!

1. Where is your cell phone? desk
2. Your hair? thinning
3. Your mother? arrrgh!!!
4. Your father? miserable (kidney stone)
5. Your favorite food? dessert
6. Your dream last night? dream???!!!
7. Your favorite drink? beer (Dogfish Head 120 min. IPA, if you haven't tried it, you should!)
8. Your dream/goal? sleep
9. What room are you in? den
10. Your hobby? reading
11. Your fear? toddlers
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? SLEEPING!!!
13. Where were you last night? football
14. Something that you aren't? svelte
15. Muffins? top...
16. Wish list item? nanny
17. Where did you grow up? beach
18. Last thing you did? phone
19. What are you wearing? PJ's
20. Your TV? off
21. Your pets? many
22. Friends? who?
23. Your life? crazy
24. Your mood? weary
25. Missing someone? nope
26. Vehicle? Dodge
27. Something you’re not wearing? perfume
28. Your favorite store? Gymboree
29. Your favorite color? purple
30. When was the last time you laughed? Doctor's
31. Last time you cried? bedtime
32. Your best friend? Terry
33. One place that I go to over and over? store
34. One person who emails me regularly? sis
35. Favorite place to eat? Al's

What is purgatory?

The Catholic Church describes purgatory (loose translation will follow) as a temporal state during which sins are paid for in full. I define purgatory as spending two full days at the coin laundry, doing a dozen loads for nine people, in Florida, in October, in ninety plus degree weather, without air conditioning, because my washing machine is on the fritz. Could the Pope and whomever this may concern note that several of my markers are 'paid in full' please? Thanks.

Seriously, I think that I have been suffering from heat exhaustion yesterday and today from my laundry marathon. *Hubby, after many (many, many) years of scoffing at appliances as gifts, I am totally willing to talk about an early visit from Santa, during which the Sears delivery guy brings gifts in his stead*

My three year old who is resisting bedtime with all his mighty will is causing me to suffer from other types of exhaustion too. My patience is exhausted. My compassion, humor, mind, and body are all exhausted as well.

Please, please, please little children (and big ones too) stop talking to me. Just for a minute, or only one of you talk to me at a time, it would be such a nice change, such a big help...really.

Too tired to post*

My mind is mush. Waking my daughter up every four hours through the night for medicine, on top of two babies still requiring night feedings has taken a toll on me. I really believe that my daughter has an ear infection...not the Swine Flu or the Not Swine Flu. I was tempted to take her back to the doctor, but, instead opted to beg for antibiotics over the phone. Apparently, they aren't any more eager to roll out the Hazmat welcome wagon, as I am to be the recipient of it, therefore, they allowed me to diagnose my child over the phone. After two doses of antibiotics, my daughter's fever has broken and she is bouncing off the walls and begging to go back to school. Hmmm...

Meanwhile, my boys, who were written out of school for the week, in the event that we were nurturing the bubonic plague around here, are having a great time. I. Am. Not.

I am tired. Too tired to think. Too tired to post. Too tired to clean. Too tired to take off my make up. Too tired to read. Too tired to sleep. Grrr!!! It is the last one that is kicking me in the bottom.

I thought that a trip to the nail salon for a pedicure by the world's strongest nail tech would cheer me up. The leg massage part is awesome I say...until I got there and found out that my nail guy quit. Crap! Crap. Crap. The girls there (who are great, really) offered to give me a pedicure, but, I refused. I am a borderline diabetic and my heels show it, they crack, they split, they hurt. The girls there haven't the strength to scrub my heels with a pumice stone, and, a razor just makes a bad problem worse. *I* don't have the strength to scrub my heels with a pumice stone the way they need to be. So, I am in the market for a new nail tech, not necessarily male, but with strength equal to a 6' plus guy weighing about 175 lbs. Know someone like that? Anybody? No? I didn't think so.

I need to get the few tufts of hair remaining on my head trimmed. If I find out my stylist is gone, there is no telling what I might do!

*Disclaimer: This post is devoid of any real reason to be written, other than all the email I have received from IRL friends who assume my silence in this forum means that I and my bloodline have all succumbed to the swines. Please forgive me if you are not one of those people.

It's a pity party and you're invited!

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too if it happened to you...

While I actually considered rewriting the lyrics to that song as my post today, I'm too tired.

My daughter has the flu. Maybe. She tested negative, but, apparently the test is only 10-70% accurate. We just arrived back at home from the urgent care place without any medication and with instructions to try to quarantine my nine year old daughter. I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants. Riiiight. When I voiced my concern (via maniacal laughter) the doctor suggested *any* unused room. I quickly informed her that the only room we have that is unused is the laundry room and that I doubted we could fit a bed in it. Then she suggested we send the babies or my daughter to family to care for. *snort* My grandparents are in Hawaii on vacation, my mother wouldn't take my babies on a bet, and my husband is 350 miles away.

Misery loves company...if you have already joined my ranks, please say hello!

Doors close and windows open

Well, the misunderstood adult children have returned. A touch apologetic, a bit shame faced, and no worse for the wear. They called last night about 170 miles away, they had lost their phone, had no money, and were totally out of gas. Of course, they also had no identification on them...so we are lucky indeed that a police officer took pity and gave them enough money for gas to get home, otherwise I guess I would have had to drive gas money out to them as they couldn't have claimed wire funds without ID. They were here before I woke up.

N is returning to his mother's house. S will stay here. It is really the way things ought to be. S fits into our crazy, loud, unconventional home. N fits well with his mom. Is it any small wonder that N is most like his mother, while S is more like his dad?

Hubby is back on the job. His tasks are plenty for this week, so we shall see how it goes. After a two week breather from his boss, he'll get another break while his boss is here in town this week. *Please note, that I am very proud of myself for being only mildly tempted to hunt him down and kick his ass while he is in the vicinity.*

Doors close and windows open everyday in this crazy, miserable, wonderful life!

Why I hate gravity and am loved by the Angels

Dear Victoria's Secret,

I promised myself (okay, fine...my husband) that if my new bra broke again within three months of purchase that I would be done with you for all time. Apparently, Victoria's Angels were listening though. Yes, my new bra did break. Yes, it was well within the three month self imposed limit. But, this time, instead of the under wire snapping, the strap broke. It happened while I was out to dinner with my husband. Who wanted to know why my left breast was sitting 3-4 inches south of my right one. When I explained that the strap on my bra had broken, and he himself noted the the difference between being with the Angels or without...he insisted I go buy a new bra from you. Like STAT.

Sincerely,

The woman who wants to know why everyone but V.S. assumes that all women larger than a certain size want to be minimized and are adept enough to hook 15 rows of latches????