It's Friday...random style

I was on Facebook today, extolling the virtues of kitty cats and laziness, when my bloggy pal, Eric's Mommy, suggested I actually post something on my site. So, here goes Eric's Mommy, this post is for you kid!

My teenage son sprained his ankle yesterday. I am so immune to such types of disasters with the number of children I have, all as klutzy as their Proud mother, that I handed him an Ace bandage, crutches, his prescription strength Naproxen, and an ice pack, and decided to forgo the Emergency Room which would have done the exact same thing for him, eleven hours later. Who knew that the OCD mom, who assured he went to the doctor or hospital every time he sniffled as an only child, could evolve into moi?

The baby is officially mobile...and has found out how to scale the baby gate that separates my kitchen from the living room. Worse still, after watching his smooth moves...he has taught this neat trick to my two small dogs. When I wander downstairs at night and I catch the crotch of my...well anyway...my crotch, on this frigging gate, I have to ask myself why it is still there. The only person or thing it is effectively keeping out of the kitchen is me.

Money is still tight. Times are still tough. I could expound on this issue for awhile, but, it has begun to bore even me. Even typing the words, forced a yawn and a desire to see who has been kicking my butt at Words With Friends today. There will be nothing more at the moment about the Proud family economy, or any thoughts on our country's either, as we seem to be running neck and neck.

Cable on demand is a very efficient way to torture parents. Seriously, who needs waterboarding when you can just force someone into watching the same effing episode of Wow Wow Wubzy 40 times in a row? Does anyone in the CIA have small children? If I had anything to hide, I would have given it up, before Widget and Walden even came onto the screen, for the 40th time. I swear.

This subject brings me to my Irish twins. I am now able to begin to imagine how having real twins might feel. They speak a language of their own. Nobody else can understand a word they say, unless they deem it to be so. This loosely translates into the planning of chaos, mayhem, and painting the walls with my mascara...and we are none the wiser, because we never understand the evil plot, until we find ourselves in the midst of the broken guitar, missing Xbox hard drive, or Clinique wall murals. People, listen to me...DO NOT have children less than a year apart by choice. Really. It sounds cool and all...but, it isn't. Parents of multiples and for other parents of Irish twins...our reward is in Heaven. I hope.

I finally had my hair cut and colored. I went a full year (better than, really) without doing anything to it. Now, people tell me that they hardly recognize me. Seriously? I've worn my hair this way for 17 years, with the exception of the last 18 months, and now you don't recognize me? I find this slightly strange.

This concludes Random Friday. You all have a great weekend. Before I go though,
ergonomic keyboards were *not* and I repeat *not* made for hunt and peckers like me. Typing this post has started to make me wonder if I am having flashbacks...

It is wayyyy...past Monday

Blame it on the cable guy who was days late to hook up my service, blame it on the son, who insists to switch my desktop to his tv instead of my monitor.  Blame it on me being lazy...but, as Tanya reminded me...I am late.

Late with the blog post of course, not late late.  Thank goodness!

I have, what feels like a small army of children plotting my downfall.  I have the school board, collaborating with those same children, giving out days off like tic tacs.  It all seems to be leading to my demise.  Really.  Not just a bloggy demise, I mean, I've been there...done that...this is more of a blogging resurrection...slightly off track.

Cell phone blogging is not what it is all cracked up to be, so, when I retire to my humble abode for the evening, I shall get a real post up here, and, fix whatever I did wrong on our taxes.  I promise.

A new lease on life...and blogging too

Even though it would be my husband's fondest wish, my New Year's resolution isn't to diet, but, rather to make my way back to the blog world.  My little blog, so long abandoned, was such a great outlet for me, and diary of our lives.  From the Proud family to all of yours...Happy New Year!  And check back with me on Monday for updated pictures, a new post, and our family's latest news.  For now I'll leave you all with a picture of the seventh Proud child.

Cold feet...hooray!

So...today we have cool air! I am reticent to celebrate this in such a public way, but, I think less so than I would be to say the words out loud, lest something might change...again. Excuse me while I go knock on some wood and hunt for a four leaf clover. I have to give a HUGE shout-out to my dearest friend's hubby on this one...thank you D, I am starting to suspect you might be our family's guardian angel. There aren't many family friends that would sweat to death in the Florida heat for hours, put up with my menagerie, and all my curious children in order to save the day, or rather the summer for us. We are very, very grateful. Hercules says you're his hero, and I think I agree.

I also managed to remember yesterday that our cable bill was due, which prompted an 11:00 p.m. trip to Wal-Mart for a pre-paid Visa, as I will *never* give our cable company our credit card information again. I should have blogged about our many disasters with this particular company, but hindsight is always 20/20. Thanks to our near midnight outing, Dora helped us greet another day, which is important because pre-caffeinated life without Dora is sheer hell.

Tomorrow brings us to the weekend, and my kids are nearly vibrating with enthusiasm to spend Saturday night with my dad at the beach. I am hoping that the weather will hold out so that it will be a success. Then, next week is the last week of school! Yay! I love not having to drag my kids out of bed, and not having to be The Enforcer of good hygiene before I have blinked my blurry, tired eyes. Hurry Summer Vacation, this mommy is ready!

Of birds and babies

The Proud family has a new project. We just took in two very needy birds. These birds are sweet and loving, but, in terrible physical shape. It took us an hour and a half of hosing and scrubbing (with some of the best cage cleaner money can buy) to restore their once beautiful cage to just acceptable. To really restore the cage, we'll need to borrow a pressure washer. The birds themselves are underweight and have serious stress plucking issues from being separated from their beloved human, who is no longer healthy enough to care for them. They are such a sad pair, but, as summer vacation is right around the corner, and since both Hubby and I are home during the day, we hope to be able to help them recuperate quickly.

Baby Z is still fighting his little cold, but, I think we are nearing the end of it now. He seems to have an aggravating post nasal drip thing going on, but, his tiny little nose is finally clear. He is sleeping three and four hour stretches now and eating a little bit better, and he sure is the cutest thing I've seen in a while.

Our air conditioning is ever so NOT working. We had it fixed right after we brought Baby Z home (who will be the big two weeks today) and we had one blissful day of cool, before it started blowing hot air again. Thank goodness for the window unit in the bird room, which I leave on high all day long and keep the French doors open so that the downstairs at least cools. Florida sans air conditioning is just not fun. We are eating lots of 'easy' meals as a result. Far better to microwave some BBQ beef and slap it on a hamburger bun, than to boil ANYTHING. I would tell you guys what we have spent so far on our non-working a/c, but, then we would all cry. Instead I'll tell you what I'm spending on the termites that have invaded the master bathroom, not really. I mean that I won't really tell you, but, we REALLY do have termites up there.

So, last night I sat outside with some of the neighbors. Tell me, would any of you, regardless of how serious your political convictions might be, call someone 'stupid' just because their voter registration card reads differently than yours? Or, perhaps if you would, please tell me if you would ask, "How much of my tax money are you collecting every year because all you know how to do is pop kids out of your f#*king tw*t, to make a living?" Because, wow...I would never be such a douche bag, though clearly at least one of my neighbors would. And, THAT is what I get for trying to be social and play nicely with others.

In other news, JB graduates to Middle School next week. She is so excited, she is practically glowing. My dad will be here to help celebrate and attend the ceremony. He will also get to meet Baby Z, which we have decided will be a surprise. Yep. Coward, thy name is Viv.

Baby Z

A week ago yesterday, at exactly 4:00p.m. (too late to get any lunch at the hospital, in case you were wondering) Baby Z joined our family. All 20.5 inches and 7 pounds and 15.9 ounces of him. (That's right, Team Boy just got the tie breaker.) My husband was home with our older babies, BUT, my fabulous and beloved midwife delivered Baby Z, so I didn't really feel alone. I am at least 99.9% certain that my husband had a harder time taking care of our youngest three solo, than I did giving birth...really.

We left the hospital the next day because you may recall how much I hate hospitals. I couldn't get out of there soon enough. Knowing how I am, my doctor wasn't late with the discharge papers for his 24 hour birthday, and the pediatrician wasn't late calling in discharge orders for Baby Z. We stopped on the way home from the hospital to pick up Baby Girl's birthday cake, because it was Baby Girl's second birthday, and that just seems to be the way we roll.

The last week has been an utter blur of bottles, diapers, sleep deprivation, resulting grumpiness from babies and and a certain Daddy, and a cold that just will not leave Baby Z alone. For this cold, I thank the woman who came and did his hearing screening, for coughing, sneezing, and wheezing all over my baby...and who to boot, had the worst hygiene. I don't mean she smelled, but, washing your hands without soap, when you're sick, before you touch a newborn...bad form, and so is touching his pacifier, constantly touching the face mask I asked you to put on, rubbing your eyes...ugh!!! The result is Day 4 of Baby Z's cold, on Day 8 of his life...pretty sucky...especially since it was preventable. (I feel somewhat better about that now, thanks for the vent Bloggy Pals.) The pediatrician wasn't horribly concerned with his cold because it, thankfully, isn't in his chest, however, it is turning me into a world class basket case.

The kids are doing better with The new baby than I expected. BB completely ignores him, but, he has been kinder and more considerate to me, which means that I know deep down he cares. JB is the consummate little Mama. She would be quite happy to steal him away from Hubby and me and never let us touch him again...until he grows old enough to mess with her things. LB is thrilled that there are now more boys than girls, he feels empowered, and as a result, he feels very affectionate toward his little tie-breaking brother. Hercules is a champ, he can be a difficult child, but, he is a fabulous big brother. TLL is interested in him, and worries when he cries. BG is warming up, though her initial reaction was very much 'return to sender.' The dogs are a touch miffed that I dare do anything that doesn't revolve around them, and a couple of my birds are making it clear (with their beaks) that they are displeased with the disturbance in the force...but, overall, the transition to being a family of nine, has been smooth.

Hubby's doctor called this morning and offered him an appointment this afternoon to discuss blood work results. As Hubby has had two heart attacks in the past, stuff like this worries me to no end. My tummy is now churning, and will continue to do so until I hear some type of, "all is well," or "everything should be fine, we're just going to start you on___," so, may time fly by until 2:00...no bad news...no bad news...no bad news...please. "Hello again Panic Attacks, we were never exactly friends, so pardon my lack of enthusiasm over seeing you again..."

On this note, I'll leave you, hopefully, I'll get a true post up here before too long, instead of another 'newsletter.'

Tomorrow

Tomorrow, we will report to the hospital at 7:00 a.m. for me to be induced. This was a sucky experience that I already own from my oldest three children, and I am hoping that tomorrow will be different, at the very least, because we may not have someone for our youngest three, which will mean that Hubby will need to be home with them, and I'll be alone.

It's time. I feel like hell. So...if I have to choose between being alone or my status quo...alone it will be.

Wish us luck!