Good-bye 2009, you were an evil bitch

Happy New Year everyone! I hope that it was happy and safe for all of you. My Proud family celebrated in style. Well, we celebrated at any rate. I fell asleep while putting my 17 month old down, and my husband woke me up at 11:30 so that I wouldn't miss out. My 7 and 9 year old held out until the final 10 minutes, and then, they too crashed.

The adults toasted the new year in with Bitch bubbly, my oldest managed to polish off two bottles of sparkling cider. My husband is stumbling around upstairs, completely shit faced. Which, I find funny as all get out, as he is the one who never overindulges. He had a Jack and coke earlier, and that coupled with a flute of sparkling wine has been his undoing.

Speaking of that Jack, I went into the liquor store today to make this all important, because I still have egg nog left, purchase. There was a new kid at the register, and he asked for my ID, which I had left in the car. I told him that I'd be right back, but, he said, "oh, that's okay, I really didn't look at you before I asked." Dude! I almost responded with, "would your mother be flattered by that?" However, in a moment of unusual insight, I was able to shut my mouth and cut my losses.

Now that hubby is sleeping, I am going to finish the rum cake, and polish off a bit more egg nog. 2009 was a bitch, so, here is to a much improved 2010! *draining the remainder of the Bitch!*

Confessions...randomly

My children get quite the musical education in my house. Tonight for example, I've been in a Frank Zappa mood, and Jewish Princess and Catholic Girls are my two favorite Zappa songs. These are NOT songs that you would want your children to sing, but, my children hear them now and again.

Further proof of their musical education and my maternal failures, is my ring tone. My current ringtone was gifted to me, ???????????????. *To the person who sent this gift...thanks...you really know how to cheer a girl up* I hurry to answer my phone before my ringtone embarrasses me, which worked up until my three year old started belting out the rest of the lines, starting with, "busted for possession of my wizard shaped bong...," at the top of his lungs to complete the verse.

Other lyric hints, so amaze me, and name this song...

"I think they moved out to the suburbs

And now they're blonde, bland, middle-class Republican wives
They all have blonde, bland, middle-class Republican children
Blonde, bland, middle-class Republican lives..."

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I constantly worry about drinking too much. I do drink. Often. It has been a part of my life for damn near as long as I can remember. My mother is Italian, as a little girl, my wine was mixed with water or sprite at dinner. When I was (several years) older, my mother often had an icy mug of beer and a slice of pizza to greet me after school.

Americans do NOT drink in the same manner to which I accustomed. I am an American. I worry about this. Not so much in a, "I think I might have a drinking problem," kind of way, but, rather, in a, "I ought keep my daily drink, or two, or three, under wraps," as I doubt most of the people I know would find it socially acceptable.

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Today I took the kids to see The Squeakquel (sp?) which I found frigging hysterical. First, I love David Cross, he rocked in Arrested Development, and he is an amazingly gifted comedian. Secondly, that shit was just funny. If you didn't laugh, you've got issues.

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Okay, off to watch reruns of The Nanny...

There is yours, and then, there is MINE!

I despise, abhor, loathe having to share my bed with my husband. Yes, I said it. I have no shame. What I *do* have is a queen size bed that simply isn't big enough. After a regular weekend home, I wave good-bye to my spouse and watch him drive away from my bedroom window, then, to cheer myself up, I stretch out, all by myself on the bed and think, "mine...you're all mine!"

My husband has now been occupying the small amount of mattress that usually belongs to me, for the last 7 nights. I just might lose my shit over this. It isn't enough that I'm tired, achy, and sore. No, I have to listen to my husband on top of it all. "Down South I have three big pillows. I'm not used to having to sleep like this. I don't have to share my bed down South with all these kids and dogs. Down South, nobody has to change the sheets in the middle of the night because the toddler wets the bed." Blah, blah, blah, etc.

Do I say, "up here, I don't usually sleep like a pretzel. Up here,I don't typically put the toddler to bed without a pull-up. Up here, I get to hog the dog to keep me warm. Up here, it's MY F#*KING BED! STFU about how good you usually have it and quit your bitching!" No, I don't say those things, but, at three in the morning when he wakes me up to complain about how crowded the bed is, I really *really* want to.

Now, I'm sure that when my hubby leaves, I'll miss him terribly. There is no doubt that I'll be sad when he goes. I'm pretty darn sure that laying on my bed, making 'clean linen angels' will cheer me up immensely though. The added bonus of being able to make clean linen angels on *my* bed, on the last Sunday of regular football season, while holding my newly repossessed remote control, and drinking my good beer...is enough of a fantasy for me to see a break in the clouds and hear the angels sing, through my current fog of abnormally sleep deprived irritability.

Pass the wipes

The Little Lady: Da-da, I got poop.

Hubby: What?

TLL: Poop!

Hubby: Baby, what are you saying?

TLL: [patting herself on her diapered bottom, two inches away from Hubby's face] I GOT POOP! POOP! GOT THAT? POOOOOOoooooooop!

*I was already laughing at the link Suburban Correspondent posted, but, this was classic!*

Hubby: [after diaper change] I didn't know she could talk!

Christmas, Christmas, and more Christmas

My children on Christmas morning

We had a lovely Christmas, and I sincerely hope that all of you did too. Some of us (Hubby, I'm talking about YOU) were very grumpy and irritable, but, the day was a success overall. I actually got a couple of hours of sleep on Christmas Eve, which was a pleasant change from years past. The children did not get get up at oh-damn-dark-thirty, which was also a pleasant change. I suspect this had quite a bit to do with them having found my stash of gifts his year, I suppose it is easier to wait when you already know what you are getting.

I think LB was excited about this one...

We had a pretty conservative Christmas this year. It was nice though, the children were all pretty happy, and there wasn't any palpable disappointment. After presents, it was time to get ready to go to my Grandparents' house for Christmas dinner and round 2 of gift exchanges. I had some cooking to do before we left. I had agreed to bring two sides and a dessert, and while I had grand plans,the final choices were creamy brussels sprouts, sweet potato casserole, and peanut butter chocolate ice cream pie. I only spent a couple of hours in the kitchen.

Jelly Belly on Christmas morning at Nana's house

Christmas dinner was probably wonderful, I wouldn't know, because I didn't really get any. Watching babies means that you're the last to eat, and I had a slice of tenderloin, a scoop of potatoes, and a cup of fruit salad. My husband, who ate before our children said that I really missed out. *Dear, I hope you are reading!*

My father letting the baby chew on his empty bottle that I made him rinse out, because I'm such a "pain in the ass."

My grandmother has a very large family, and thus we were just shy of 30 people. It was crazy, but, crazy in a wonderful way. I hope that one day, my own home will be just like that. Opening gifts took forever and a year, but, the children were so excited that the time flew by.

The Little Lady checking out her present

Hercules taking a moment to look at his present

We went outside to play with my daughter's new frisbee, and of course, I found a dog running loose. This is the fifth dog that I have found in 2009. Is that number normal? Have any of you found several animals running loose over the course of the year? Something that really struck me, is how ridiculous people are about dogs. Seriously, we are going to freak out over a French Bulldog...that plays fetch and licks toddlers with gleeful abandon? Maybe I'm just crazy, but, it is usually apparent to me what type of demeanor an animal has, and while I respect animals, I don't fear them, especially one that weighs under 30 pounds. Anyhoo, the rightful owner was eventually found.

The girls watching the frisbee game (am I the only one bothered by my daughter's dress being around her waist?)

My older children spent Christmas night with our various relatives. My oldest spent the night with my father at his hotel, JB and LB spent the night with my aunt. I was too tired to fuss over them leaving my nest on Christmas. The three babies fell asleep on the way home from my grandmother's house and then they were up well past midnight. Ugh!

The Big Boy

Yesterday, I just felt terrible. Sore, achy, grumpy. I decided to give myself a little Christmas present, and I went to get a massage. Hello! If you all haven't done this...do it! I feel like a million bucks. An hour during which I did nothing but relax. I was skeptical that I would be able to lie still for an hour without dieing of boredom, but, I could have stayed much longer. The massage therapist commented that she had never before seen knots like the ones in my neck...YA THINK!

My letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

Tonight I am tired. I am trying to be a good girl and a good elf. I would really like a new toilet auger for Christmas, the deluxe variety, 'cause I've been a really good girl this year. Another day I will write another letter, about how I used to wish for things like diamonds, and how my heart's desires have changed over the years, to finally morph into auger lust. I don't think I could sink any lower, so please remind me after true senility sets in, not to ask you to fill my stocking with things like ex-lax.

Sincerely,

Mommy Elf #13,875,865,101

She says tomato, and he says toe-mah-toe

My children are native Floridians, all of them. As a result, our internal thermometers run on different scales. I have a 'hot' meter and they have a 'cold' meter. I believe that anything over 60, is cause for a tee shirt. They believe that anything under 75 is a reason to haul out gloves, hats, and scarves. I tend to throw a blanket over the baby carrier when it gets chilly, other mothers have their tiny offspring in ski suits.

Last night the gloves came off, well, not literally, one of my children wore hers to bed. Figuratively though, the gloves came off. I put my foot down. The night before, I agreed to up the thermostat from 69 to 71. After many tears and watching my children fumble with breakfast forks in their gloved hands, I agreed to turn it up to 72. The day was fine. A few of my children removed their earmuffs. Another couple shed their scarves. All seemed to be well, and although I had to change into a tee shirt, I was also happy.

Then night fell. My children appeared at my bed. Four little bodies covered from head to toe with every article of cold weather clothing we own, and one having shed his pajamas, wearing only a diaper. One in a leather jacket and ski cap, another wearing a cap and a scarf, another in her jacket and gloves, with a sweatband pulled down over her ears, the baby in an older sibling's cast off jacket. They were a pathetic bunch, all huddled together for warmth.

The lot of them though, didn't amass enough heat to thaw my frozen heart. So, they slept on my bed, dressed as described above, with every single one of their blankets over them, and my comforter on top of all. I slept in the recliner downstairs, because I was frigging dieing of the damn heat.

Next year they want us to take them to my sister's house for Christmas so they can see real snow. Yeh, I'm sure that would be a success!

All I want for Christmas...

Welcome 'Holiday Crunch Time' it is so nice to see you again. I work well under pressure, provided I don't crack, so this narrow margin until Christmas, should serve as the impetus I need to finish my shopping, decorating, and cleaning.

Today we need to go to the mall. I broke yet another freaking bra, so I have to go squander some funds at Victoria's. I also have to go buy myself a Christmas present from my husband. I have been tasked with this job by the man himself. He said he felt badly that I didn't have anything under the tree last year...and this is how he solves that dilemma. *sigh*

I have considered making a fake gift certificate for a breast augmentation, wrapping it in a box, and giving THAT to me from him at my grandmother's on Christmas. I think it would be fun. Then, I'll get a new tattoo with my Christmas money. Which will annoy my husband greatly, which is the only reason I haven't had another done. Go ahead and tell me how tacky, cheesy, cheap, and gauche (spelled, gosh the first time...crap I'm tired) tattoos are. I assure you, I've heard it all before. I love mine, and have wanted to have more work done for the longest. Will I regret it one day? Probably. There is very little I don't have regrets about, so, if/when the time comes, I feel I'll be well equipped to handle it.

Anywhoo, the house will be a flurry of activity between now and when my husband arrives on Christmas Eve. So glad that he'll be here in time to help. *Please tell me that you all could hear the sarcasm dripping from my words over the Internet?* Today's activities include baking and assembling a gingerbread house, and GFCF gingerbread cookies for H to decorate. I failed at finding a GFCF dough that wouldn't crumble when used as a building material. On the plus side, I ate gingerbread cookie dough for breakfast.

Time to try to find clothes warm enough to take my kids out in, the cold has finally hit Florida!

Men...WTF are they thinking?

Hubby: Um, I was looking at your pictures on Facebook. There aren't that many of you. Why is that?

Me: Because I'm always behind the camera.

Hubby: Well, um...I was trying to find a picture of you to show the new guy at work. The only one I could find, is of you laying down with your eyes closed.

Me: Huh? Oh, yeah. That was at the indoor playground, BB took a picture of me panting at the top of the slides. He was so proud of me, that was why I put it on there.

Hubby: Um, well, Mike...the new guy at work, pointed something out.

Me: What?

Hubby: Have you, um, had something done?

Me: What do you mean done?

Hubby: I think that you're bigger than you used to be.

Me: [said with as much pissy-ness as possible] Okay...he said I was fat. Why are you sharing? Did you think this would make me feel good?

Hubby: No, not fat. [uncomfortable mumbling] Your, um, chest. Your chest is kind of big. I don't, um, remember you being big there.

Me: Some guy you work with asked you about my tits? WTF? Why are you sharing again?

Hubby: Well, he did. I'm calling though, because I just wanted to know if you had, you know...something done?

Me: [gales of hysterical laughter] You think that alone, with six kids, without time to have my hair cut, my nails done, or even to sleep...you think that I found a way to have breast augmentation surgery? [laughing still]

Hubby: [long pause] So, is that a no?

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So, tell me, my one and only male reader...is it normal for a man (men) to comment on the attributes of their wives, or lack there of? There is a bloggy pal of mine out there pondering a similar question too.

Where I babble without any point at all

I am exhausted today, and it is all my fault. I stayed up last night to watch Dallas play the Saints. I really hadn't planned to watch the whole game, but the touchdown Austin scored on our first possession hooked me. I must say, Dallas dominated the first half of the football game. Then in the second half, we did what Dallas is prone to...pissing away a large point margin, like we did last season when we played the Steelers. However, we sacked Brees for the fourth time (?...by my count) with 12 seconds left on the clock and clinched the game, 24-17. Go Cowboys! Let's stay in the Super Bowl hunt, and let's also find a new kicker. *End of excited football babble....I'm so happy!*

I was pumped after the game and couldn't sleep, I tend to take these things very personally. So, I watched a couple of hours of The Nanny reruns on Nick. I do declare, that was one of the best sitcoms ever, and my personal favorite. I loved Charles Shaugnessy on Days of Our Lives, and I loved him even more as Maxwell Sheffield. What? None of you remember Charles Shaugnessy on Days of Our Lives? I was the only child ordered to watch daytime television and then report the happenings of John and Marlena to her mother after her nap? *sigh* I had suspected that this might be true.

It was a most enjoyable night for me. Until I went to bed. I shared my queen size bed last night with five of my children, one dog, and one cat. The way my back feels now, I suspect I might be in traction by mid afternoon. I hope not though, because I need to go to the store. I am out of winter rations. My cupboards are bare of egg nog, Jack, cider, and beer that doesn't suck...and there are a few teams playing today that I'll be rooting against, so I'll need (want) a few of my favorite things.

And the Holidays are off!

The children with their Aunt S and Uncle P.

My sister and my brother in law came for a visit. They arrived on Thursday and left this morning. It was a very special treat for all of us. They live in the D.C. area, so we don't get to see them very often. This year we were blessed to have been able to see them twice, once over Labor Day and again now, before Christmas. Of course, as they came to visit, I had to make at least the common living areas of my home presentable for company. I won't lie, it was a chore. Which leads me to the reason that we are going to ring in the new year with a cleaning service. I. Give. Up. I can't do it all, and the cleaning is the first thing that I'm going to outsource.

My sis and her hubby spoiled my children mercilessly. Me too, truth be told. They brought all the children toys, and then then hauled out a big box...with a PlayStation3. I'd say that it is fair to declare that they, "saved Christmas this year." This was a year that I had downsized quite a lot. Each of my children are getting 3-4 presents and that is all. Last year was the year for making dreams come true, this year was going to be a small affair. That is, until their loving aunt and uncle came to visit.

My brother in law is the quiet type, but, very kind. He set up the game system, handed out two wrapped games for the children, and then came back in from the car with a bag full of games that he had also brought for them.

Then yesterday, they left to go to Best Buy. They were my hero types and finished my Christmas shopping for me, by picking up the two items that I had yet to buy for the Christmas gift exchange at my grandparents' house. When they returned, they also had an HDMI cable so that the kids would be able to game in HD. Sweet, huh?

We had a small dinner yesterday and incorporated a little birthday party for my now 12 year old son. I gave him G-Force on Blu-ray, so that we could check out the new and better graphics on the PS3. It really was like night and day. I also found a great reason to miss my husband. I am not a grilling queen, to my other half's grilling king. I really wish that he had been here to help with dinner, which was comprised of New York strip, roasted sweet potatoes, corn, and peas. I am veggies, and he is meat, and THAT is how it should stay.

Soon, I shall be deaf, thanks to the yelling in my living room because of the Madagascar competition on the new game system. Good thing my husband is bringing a new television home with him. *Son, if you read this post...do NOT spill the beans, got it?*

That's all folks...and it really wasn't much of anything.

Update: Today the Baby Girl cut her first tooth!!! This is very, very exciting. If she could do something other than shriek, moan, and gnaw at my hands, I'm sure that I could muster as much enthusiasm for this milestone as her siblings have.

What got flushed when I wasn't looking

Yesterday, my grandparents gave my 3 year old and my 1 year old a potty chair. It is one of those 'real' potty chairs that flush, talk, sing, and light up. I saw this potty chair when out 'potty' shopping and I decided against it. I thought that it might be a bad idea to give a child a receptacle for their bodily waste that masquerades as a toy. But, what do I know? My grandparents raised eight kids, and I've never heard stories about them playing with their feces, so I figured we would give it a try.

Well, the potty is an instant hit. We are all singing the 'toilet paper' song that it plays, because, it is quite catchy. My children are vying to be the next one on the potty. I have spent my day playing mediator. "H, you just 'used' the potty. Now, it is TLL's turn."

Don't be fooled though, the only thing that has gone down that toilet today, is my life. That's right, at some point,while navigating the politics of sharing potty chairs, that fake flusher sucked my 'real' life out of that pretend bowl, and THIS is what I'm left with.

"I'm too big, look at me, I can use my own pot-tee, and I'm soooooo proud..."

Weekend fun and the pictures that haunt me of holidays past and present

Last year's impromptu Christmas picture with Santa came out okay, but, for the 'real' Christmas pictures, Hercules managed to get a shiner a couple of days before, and then, fall and cut his eye in the waiting room of the picture studio. Then, at Easter, his arm was in a cast. This year, H hit my oldest daughter in the face before pictures, as you can see...

These were all at Whole Foods, everyone but H (3) and TLL (1) loved the Santa there. At least the baby was awake to see Santa this past weekend...

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My aunt took my seven year old and my nine year old Friday night, I had Santa plans on Saturday, but, she sweetened the pot when she asked if they could go, by agreeing to meet Santa and taking my three year old home with her from there. So, I said, "oh my goodness, yes, please, of course!"

Yesterday she called me flustered at noon. I told her that I just put the babies down for a nap and that I would pick the kids up as soon as the babies woke up. She calmed down and agreed. At three, my baby girl was still sleeping, my aunt called back sounding even worse. I agreed to leave immediately, but, before I could get both babies into car seats, she called back, "we'll bring the kids to you," was all she said.

So, they were here in record time. Turns out that my aunt, my uncle, and their daughter-in-law, took them to Chuck E. Cheese, and then to eat in a restaurant. I nearly fell out laughing. We *never* take Hercules to a restaurant. Why, I wondered, would one ever try? Three adults and two older children to help run interference, and he still kicked their asses! Bwahahahahaha! I am terribly certain that my aunt won't be offering me any more respite any time soon.

As far as the rest of the weekend went, we missed breakfast on Saturday because my oldest was adamant that he wanted to sleep in, so I let him. When he woke up and saw the time, he hated me for it. I was, "the worst mother in the whole wide world." because I listened to him. We did make the visit with Santa, which was worth it because the mall Santa was really not very jolly and the Santa at Whole Foods was awesome. The best part though was the snow machine they had in front of the store, my kids loved it, for five of them, this was the only 'snow' they had ever seen.

Whine, wine, and football

The babies are all asleep and now we're on my time here at 'My Husband Is Chilling At His Community Hot Tub Right Now Casa' and I'm listening to Syleena Johnson on my son's new computer speakers. I got them for him for his birthday, and they are SWEET! Four speakers and a subwoofer, and this shit sounds sweeter than my first stereo. Love it!!!! *Mommy was thinking only of you when she bought them Baby!*

I am also drinking wine. Copious amounts by the time I head off to bed, because tomorrow I am taking the kids to breakfast (outdoors, where my native Floridian children will bitch and moan about the cold...pussies) and then to another 'Santa' photo op. As a Catholic, I need to feel like I am making penance for my sins when we do awesome stuff like I have planned, and what better way to feel punished than to embark upon such a day with a hangover?

The wine itself is penance. What I expected for $4.19 a bottle, I know not. What I can tell you is that I would (almost) NEVER pay retail for this crap. I am so gifting a bottle of this to our landlord this Christmas , even if I have to pay retail for it.



I am pretty sure that I have screwed up my kiddos. Upon hearing Charlie Daniels, they scoff at the cheap knock off of David Alan Coe's "The Devil Went Down To Jamaica."

Did anyone else see the Steelers and Browns? OMG, my outlook on life has completely turned around after last night! As a Dallas fan, I finally feel vindicated after last season's match-up. The grudge will wear on longer than the ecstasy over Big Ben losing more yards than he gained last night, I am sure...

Kids are the coolest

Before you say what you're thinking, I know, posting multiple times in a day is lame. I know, and I'm sorry, because I think this post ought to be shared. First, it puts in perspective my usual grump (and many of yours) about having to share our beds with lots of little people with flailing limbs. Just today, I woke up so sore that I took Advil before I made coffee, unprecedented, I know. The post also reminded me to count my blessings, of which I have many, many, as opposed to concentrating on my problems, of which, there are admittedly more than usual just now. The story told by this very lucky mommy encompasses the true spirit of the holidays and of giving, and I thought that it was beautiful. I hope that you guys will too, and that you'll leave a comment on her blog, because those are some very special children she has, and they should know how much the adults admire their sense of giving this holiday season.



Click here.

Parenting failures and grand plans

Today has started off well. We lost power at some point during the night, therefore our sleep wasn't interrupted by any pesky alarms this morning. It also means that the kids missed the bus, which wouldn't have been a big deal, except for my truck which is acting up, and not available to make school runs. The alternative to driving the kids to school, would have been walking the kids to school, which would have been a four mile walk for Hercules. Yeah, no thanks. So, the kids are home today.

Well, since the kids are home today, I am not going to lose any opportunities here. We are launching a massive cleaning campaign today. The house *will* be ready for the maid service to start on Monday. I will be working them hard today. I will be working hard today. We have much ground to cover in the next week before my sister arrives. Which brings me to great news, my sister and her husband will be stopping by to see us for a couple of days next week to celebrate the holidays. Before they arrive however, there is much work to be done around my humble abode. You see, given the small space, in conjunction with the many bodies, my house is usually bursting at the seams without any additional company. So, I try (hard) not to have to entertain often. For this reason, I am a bit panicked about the visit.

In order to invite maximum stress upon myself and set goals like the overachiever I used to be, before my sister and brother in law arrive, we are hanging new shelves in the upstairs bedroom. We are also painting. I intend to get the whole house painted, but, in a pinch, I'll settle for the downstairs and the wall we'll be hanging shelves on. That is doable in a week, right?

Then there is the subject of presents. What does one get for her sister and BIL who are making plans to spoil her children rotten? Suggestions anyone? Please? I am looking for something sentimental, rather than costly, but, I am fresh out of anything that might be considered an idea.

Need Hazmat gear

Today was NOT a potty training success. My son has peed in a box of Christmas ornaments. Then he peed in a bag of clean pull ups. The icing on the cake, must have been pooping on my bed, and then wiping his butt on my bedroom window. I am so sick of cleaning up the bodily fluids of others, I can't even begin to tell you.

Each and every time I leave my son to attend to my other children, he wreaks havoc on my house. Unfortunately, the alternative is to let my babies starve or sit in dirty diapers...and so he knows he has me. All he has to do is wait, with that opportunistic gleam in his eye, and wait he does.

I do realize that I have said this before, and often, but, I am seriously tired. I am at the, "I would suck your dick for a nap*," point of exhaustion, and it feels really crappy. Every time I muster enough energy to get in gear, another disaster follows. I. Am. So. Tired. I pitched the idea to my husband that while he is here for Christmas, I might sneak away for a night....hahahahaha....that earned me a, "if you're planning on leaving me alone with six kids, I won't even come home for Christmas!" Which makes me pretty damn annoyed with him.

So, I guess I'll brew my 12th cup of coffee today, and keep on trucking.



*I can take no credit for the brilliance of this line. Those of you who haven't already read this post ought to. You will laugh, loudly.

My life (or, Cruel and Usual Punishment)

Tonight we'll begin with a Freudian slip. I would have been back online even earlier, had I not wasted precious time entering over and over, "mymommyneedssometimeoff" instead of "mymommyneedsatimeout." I feel like a total ass.

Friday night, my modem died. It just withered (like my FarmVille crops since) and died. I called ClearWire immediately. This is our third modem in less than a year. This is however, the first one that died over the weekend, so an overnight replacement wasn't an option. Five days people, five days I went without an internet connection. Aack! My sanity can totally not take this shit.

The subject of my sanity leads me to talk about my toddler. Holy crap, that kid is kicking my ass. Saturday morning I was getting the kids ready to go see Santa. Hercules hit my oldest daughter in the face with my hair dryer. She ended up with a cut under her eye and ice eventually brought down the swelling. When I showed him her eye he said, "wowie, wow, wow. That sure is a beautiful wound Jelly Bean!" When my daughter explained that it hurt her, he asked if she had fallen on rocks to get the cut. She told him that he had given her the cut when he hit her with the hair dryer. Then he asked my daughter, "why did I do that again?" In a separate post, I will show our last Christmas picture, our Easter picture, and this year's photo for comparison. Fun times, fun times.

When we finally made it to the mall, we had to stand in line for over an hour to see Santa (made possible by our sponsor, The Sandman) and when we finally made it up on stage, the baby was still fast asleep, The Little Lady was terrified of Santa, and Hercules was in an 'all out' state of tantrum. We hustled off the stage after taking an awful picture to remember the misery magic of this special holiday season by.

Hercules was already freaking out, so I paid no attention to his continued screams of, "bubblegum tree" until we experienced further meltdown in the Food Court. He was completely inconsolable until we gave up and retraced our steps to find the "bubblegum tree" that he was talking about. We tried about 10 bubblegum machines until we found the one. Once Hercules was pacified, we went back to the food court. Where we were enjoying dinner, until Hercules ducked under the table and made a break for it. Mall security had to get involved, and eventually, and blessedly he was found. Seconds people, fractions of seconds, was all it took.

Sunday, we went to the farmer's market where I buy our soap and my dogs' treats. They had Christmas trees there. I was impressed by the size of the tree for the price and so we bought one. It rode home with us, sandwiched lengthwise in the middle of my truck. After buying THREE, tree stands trying to find one small enough to hold the trunk, I realized something. I bought one of those evergreen bushes that people have at the end of their driveways. Yep. That's right. I suck so bad, and we have a six foot tall Christmas Bush to prove it. Fuck me.

Sunday night, my three year old woke up after the rest of us were sleeping and decorated the tree for us. He strung lights, hung ornaments, and dumped the contents of every single box in our storage closet trying to find the Christmas ones. Imagine my pleasure at my [17 month old] daughter's 2 a.m. feeding to find what my little elf had done.

My oldest son stayed home from school on Friday with a tic. The tic has progressively worsened over the weekend until present. He nods involuntarily several times a minute. He has been home from school since Friday, with no end in sight, unless of course you count the first available appointment with a neurologist in two months. What the bloody hell we are going to do until then, I know not.

My middle daughter has given up sleep, and her new favorite hobby is waking up her baby sister so that I am a sleep deprived, overly emotional mess. Yuck! I haven't even the energy to tell myself to, Suck it up Bitch!" It has been a seriously crappy few days. (We have apparently been dropped by our sponsor do to not fulfilling our contract, in reference to our obligation to be good role models.)

We had to go back to the mall today in order to have my son's DS fixed. My three year old made two attempts at running away. The first was on the way in. He jumped out of my truck with his carseat still attached and ran for the fire escape. Fortunately, the seat (which he must have unbuckled) slowed him down and we were able to catch him. The second was on the way back to the car. I put him in the truck, but, was trying to switch out the seat he sits in, so that I could use the floor latch. He opened the driver's side door and made a run for the elevator while I swore and fiddled with the seat. I had the distinct privilege to run down two flights of stairs to catch him before the elevator door opened on the ground floor.

On Tuesdays, my oldest daughter tutors. We were at the cafe waiting for her when my son jumped out of the cart he was strapped in and made another escape attempt. A sales associate caught him as I chased him down. Fun!!! Really flipping fun.

I am so tired. Emotionally, physically, mentally. I feel like I am being held prisoner by my three year old. I am afraid to leave the house with him, and yet, I'm afraid of what he'll do if I don't get him out of the house to run off some of his energy. I wonder how we wound up here. I wonder what method of discipline will ever get through to him. I wonder if I'll ever get to have five consecutive hours of sleep again.

I think that's about all folks. Time for me to head over to FarmVille and plant some crops.

A few things that have happened since my modem died

Number of times my three year old has run away: 3, to be returned 3 times by perfect strangers.

Number of days my oldest son has missed school: 3, with 4, 5, and 6 to pass before the week is over.

Number of bloody injuries perpetuated by my three year old: 1, with bonus points for happening before Santa pictures.

Number of times I have cried today: 2, with a third approaching.

Number of hours I have slept: Less than 10, cumulatively.

I am wishing, and hoping, and praying that my new modem arrives tomorrow early, because I feel like I have been completely cut off from the world outside of my cell in my toddler run version of Gitmo.

Random and nonsensical

Today I am getting ready to leave my nest for a few hours, and leave my little ones behind with my aunt (there isn't a sitter on Earth who will watch Hercules) and I thought I would share my thoughts as I get ready.

1. The bug guy is coming to spray today and my house is a disaster.
2. I don't really want to bring the tree home today, but, I won't be alone in a car again until after Christmas.
3. I would like to go get a massage today, but, if I do that, would I need to leave my trusty girdle at home?
4. My trusty girdles are actually tank top-ey things that I ordered one sleep deprived night last year, that should have served as clue number one that I was pregnant again, but, I digress, I have since grown attached to them. I wish that I could remember more about their origins than having seen them on a late night infomercial.
5. I am never buying oranges again, because my kids don't seem to find anything wrong with peeling them and leaving the trash behind on the floor/counter/wherever.
6. I will need to take emergency rations to the pay-per-pound laundry place. Those rations will not include any towels or blankets.
7. If I don't get off my girdled ass, I'll still be here when the pest control dude comes, and I would rather not be here to claim responsibility for my failures.

Profanity

I have a confession to make. One that many people will criticize me for. It is something that I struggle with both on the blog and in my daily life. My favorite word in the entire English language is f*#k. It's true. It is also true that I pretty much enjoy profanity in all forms. There is one word that I take exception to, the same word that most of you probably dislike more than the 'F' bomb, that nasty 'c' word is nasty indeed.

When I had my children, I knew that I needed to change my ways. I have been, for the most part, successful. Sure, there was that one incident when my oldest was in kindergarten. He called another kid on the playground a douche bag. I had to go talk to the principal and she asked me where he might have learned it. I very honestly answered, "the I-??, I-?? interchange, I'm sure." She wasn't very amused. I learned that I needed to be yet more vigilant, even when some douche bag was cutting me off.

So, I led a double life. At work, most (uh, all) of the people I knew, used their fair share of blue language. At home, I was expletive free. It worked for me. I could tell my husband that his "lack of sensitivity" bothered me, and at work I could say, "knock off the jackassery, will ya!" It was a good system.

Then, I left my day job, but, I worked nights as a bartender to supplement our income. Still, my work life served as a forum where I could voice my thoughts uncensored, "Last call! If you don't work here, sleep here, or sleep with someone who works here, get the f*#k out!"

When I quit the bar, I was in trouble. I would lock myself in the bathroom and scream, "f*#k, f*#k, bloody f*#king Hell," over and over until the urge passed. Then, slowly, but surely I started to slip. "Frig," took the place of "fudge." Then "flipping" gave way to "freakin'." A couple of "douche bags" instead of "idiots." Ouch! I knew I was on a slippery slope.

I continue to struggle daily with this issue. On my blog you will find the occasional expletive, please forgive my lapses. It's just that it can be so mother f*#king satisfying to vent, even though I know that I'm being a douche, and that it is shitty and the antithesis of classy that I desire to express myself in such a way. Bear with me folks, tomorrow, I'll be better.

Feel better now Jen?

This is our mounting laundry problem. This does not include the linens and towels, they are piled in the unused crib upstairs. There is also a 6 load sorting hamper full to bursting in my laundry room. This is what a family of 8, sans washing machine looks like. Feel better? You're welcome.

Lemonade is just water and sugar, this is way better

A bloggy friend of mine had an awesome idea a little while back...a regular meme for throwing lemons when you can't make lemonade, or just don't feel like having any. So, today we are throwing lemons at people over here at Proud Mom. I am by no means stealing Miss Stacey's thunder (uh, I hope) but I am suggesting that y'all check her blog out for the future of this fab idea.

The first lemon (right off my Grandmother's tree, using my 7 year old to illustrate size) gets chucked at my step children. For the pain and misery they have brought to our lives as of late.



Then there is another big fat lemon for the person who thought of the Kleenex 'Get Mommed' marketing campaign on Facebook. Isn't it bad enough that Obama gave us mom jeans? Must you really turn the unraveling of our identities outside of our children into a new word, and use it as a gimmick? I can promise you that if my nose is running or I have to sneeze, if the only tissue available to me is Kleenex brand...I'm wiping it on my shirt.

Another lemon is for my son's school. He is soon to be a published author, and the office lost the book order form with my credit card information on it. Go Hawks!

The last lemon is for Victoria's Secret. I loved you, I trusted you! How could you have let me down by not making any of your new bras in anything larger than a D cup? Why??? We had such a good run together, but, now I'm pissed. And, no, I don't want a 'conversion size' because the cup is too small dammit, and I refuse to suffer from both 'muffin top' and 'muffin breast' as a result of my six children.

If I wasn't so fond of Farmville, Id throw one at them too. The server errors I keep getting mean that I am reminded of the movie 'Groundhog Day' every time I click on the bookmark. I've harvested the friggin' blueberries already, and I have 32,248 coins. And 15 minutes from now, I'll get to do it all over again. How about a blue ribbon for patience, huh?

So, how about all of you? Leave a comment and toss your own lemons, so that Stacey will know what a great idea she's got.