...my child sold your honor student the answers to the test...

Friday, February 26, 2010

Character Bashing

Warning: If you have sensitive ears(eyes) this blog probably isn't for you. If you love everything that comes with kids, including cartoon characters, and may be frightened that your perception of certain ones may ultimately be changed forever when your adorable angels are watching them on tv, this blog isnt for you. If you haven't realized yet that I do have a sarcastic and sometimes twisted sense of humor and don't wish to know that, this blog is most definitely not for you. For everyone else with a warped sense of humor, enjoy!

I have had a really stressful week. Oddly enough it hasnt been from my kids either. Just a lot of other stuff going on, on top of PMSing (which I acknowledge I get every other month and always try to warn J when I recognize the signs so he knows that anything I say or do comes with an auto mental message not to take me too seriously, unless I say to). I knew it was bad when I called J this afternoon from the car trying to be nice, by offering to grab lunch out and what would he like, when I came *this* close to hanging up on him when he answered "I don't care". One, I have never hung up on my husband, ever. Two, this has been a point of contention between us ( /whine just tell me what you waaaaaaant!!!) but even knowing it was coming I just got really pissed off. When I did hang up the phone (after finishing our conversation) I realized I needed to do something before I started focusing my pent up stress into driving my minivan into the next persons ass who went 10 mph below the friggin speed limit, because let me tell you, I always get stuck behind those assholes. And I was that pissed I would have floored it.

So I came up with a game. It's called Cartoon Characters I want to Beat the Snot out of because they piss me off. Want to hear my list?

Dora: Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!!!!! Did your mother never teach you what the word quiet means??? I mean seriously just try, for once in your small life, to turn your volume down to normal. Maybe, if you stop screaming everything that comes out of your mouth you might find a friend or two who are real, instead of a pet monkey, and an odd assortment of animal friends. The only kid who can stand you is your cousin Diego, and even then I'm sure it's because his mom forces him to play with you a couple times a year so she doesnt have to listen to her sister (your mom) bitch and whine about how you have no friends. And I hate to tell you sweetcheeks, but if after 11 years on the damn tv you still can't figure out who the hell to go to when you don't know which way to go is, I think you can pretty much be assured that you'll never be a rocket scientist. IT'S THE FUCKING MAP, OK?!?!!

Elmo: We get it. How can we not when it has been forced down our throats for generations that you are ticklish? WE GET IT. TOUCHING YOU MAKES YOU GIGGLE! It also sends out a really warped message to kids, if you ask me. Touch me touch me and I'll laugh. I mean really, who came up with this ingenious marketing ploy? Hey folks, wouldnt it be awesome if we made a hairy red monster who wants to be touched by little kids and he will giggle and shake when they do? Yeah lets market THAT! I know you do other things for kids and thats great, it really is. However as I dont watch you I only have the limited knowledge of what everyone on the face of this planet knows and that is that you are red, hairy, and like kids to touch you. That's just wrong.

Barney: I have a special place in my heart for hating this big purple dinosaur. Anytime I hear the song "I Love you" I physically cringe and a part of me dies. Fortunately I have battled hard with you, my nemisis, and have kept you out of my house for the raising of 2 kids! But if you dare even think about trying to encroach on my youngest son when he starts picking favorite shows, I will come find you and toss your purple ass into a bonfire and dance naked around your blazing carcass and call it a Barbecue when you're toasted through and your flesh is crispy on the outside, meat tender on the inside. I'll invite other parents to join me as well as I know my hatred is not my own for you.

Last but most definitely not least is Caillou. In fact, I think Caiilou is my most hated cartoon character out there.You dont talk. You fucking whine. Whine whine whine whine WHINE! I tell my kids I dont speak whine and yet THERE YOU ARE teaching MY kids that awful language. You are the most selfish spoiled brat of a cartoon kid that I have ever laid eyes on you and your mom seriously needs to lay off the happy pills and wring your little neck and teach you some flipping manners! Normally I dont condone violence on children at all and under any circumstances. But you're a cartoon so you dont count. Speaking of parents, I am sorry but Caillous Mom and Dad? You are so not even close to depicting what a real mom and dad are. You are the dredged up fairy tale of what some poor slop of a human being thought his mom and dad should be like and held on to that utter fantasy and somehow SOLD it to a tv corporation into believing it would be a good sell and teach OUR kids that maybe some families really ARE like that. What the hell are you people trying to do?? Shame us parental units into letting our kids do whatever the fucking hell they please? NO good parent in their right mind would allow their kids to get away with half the shit Caillou does unless mom and dad cant handle their own kids and rely on popping pills to make them happy and looped out enough to not realize or maybe not care that they're not doing their job as parents in the first place!!!!! I brought up my disdain of Caillou to a friend this morning and she laughed and told me of an episode she watched where the mom had Caillou watch his little sister Rosie while she went down for a nap. FOR REAL?! Isn't Caillou like 4 or something? Man, why had I never thought of this before? Hell, I should start this in my house right now. Yeah, I'll go take a nap every day and put Ashe in charge of watching over Soren. Cause we all know how great that would go down right? Fucking idiots.

Wow, that felt really good! I highly suggest this mental exercise next time you feel like you're ready to come unglued. Just make sure to keep it in your head or turn the radio up while you mutter so you don't warp your kids accidentally =)

Feel free to add your own character bashing in here! I'd love to know I'm not the only one out there who actually thinks these things!

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Strike 2

Soooooo, you know how I said only just a few hours ago I was sure knowing my kids I'd get another fiasco photo op soon? Yeah, about that. I have one already.

So today I cleaned the living room and reassured myself it was totally baby proof. Safety plugs in electrical sockets? Check. All little toys way out of reach? Yup. Anything potentially heavy way up safe and sound and no way for them to fall? Taken care of.

I swept and mopped, checked under the couch and tv for anything potentially hazardous and felt secure in the fact I did my job as a Mommy. Then Soren woke up from his nap, I fed him 2 servings of baby food, placed him gently on the newly clean and baby safe floor, and popped upstairs for 3 minutes tops to check email, always keeping an ear out for trouble...

Trouble doesn't always make a sound though.

I don't have any clue where he found it or if it was something Ashe had and left within a babys grasp, but I came downstairs and gasped when I saw this:

For any of you trying to figure out what that is, that, my friends, is Fun Dip. Yes, my 8 month old baby is covered in Fun Dip next to an ever innocently whistling 3 yr old.

3 minutes folks. That's all it takes. And now Soren is forever immortalized, as the Baby Terror of Trouble. I swear I do try to be a good mom. You guys just get to see the worst parts of my Mommydom. Cause the worst parts are always the funniest.

And It Begins

I totally lost my nomination for Mother of the Year award yesterday. And it's only February, the second month in the new year. That's got to be a record of some sort, though not the kind I really want to shout about.

You see, I was sitting on the kitchen floor with Ashe and Soren, peeling Clementines for the two of them to devour. Sounds picturesque, right? Except for the fact I was really trying to peel them for me to eat since I hadnt had any sort of food but a handful of Jr. Mints and 4 cups of coffee, and it was 4pm and I was starving, but the two buzzards, I mean angels, kept zooming in the moment one was peeled and would reach out their hands with puppy eyes pleading as if I hadn't already fed them several times that day. But like a good Mom, I gave them my fruit, would start to peel another, and resignedly hand it over (again) when those arms reached out for more.

Beside Ashe, of course, was a cup of chocolate milk. Usually he has it in a sippy cup to prevent spills but all his sippy cups have mysteriously disappeared minus the one for his preschool which I never use in case, it too, decides to take flight and leave me when I am already rushing out the door in my PJs trying to get him there on time and I have to start a search and rescue team with 30 seconds to spare. Instead he had it in a BIG BOY cup with a straw. We're sitting there chilling, my stomach growling in harmony with the growls and gasps of delight from my boys as they shove fistfuls of orange into their little mouths, when Xavier arrives from school. Without thinking I get up, forgetting bout the cup, to greet him and help usher him to the table and start his homework. While my back is turned, rifling through his backpack to pull out his folder I hear him clear his throat.
"Uh, Mom?"
"Ashes chocolate milk cup spilled in the kitchen."
"What? Oh, ok I'll go grab a towel in a sec. Thanks."
"...Uh, Mom?"
"Sorens in the chocolate milk."

I turn around to see this image, now forever burned into my brain. Soren had army crawled 5 feet in a matter of maybe 30 seconds, overturned Ashes cup, and was face down in the middle of the puddle, arm around each side to keep the milk from spreading too far, lapping it up like a cat with cream, and a beatific smile upon his face.

Now here's where I lose my Mommy Award nomination. I actually stood there for a moment, my mind racing wondering what to do? Do I go race over to him and take him out of his heavenly puddle of chocolatey goodness? Or do I look for my camera first and get a snapshot????

Mommy mode kicked in and I decided to pick him up. I kid you not when I reached over to him he growled at me! I turned him over to look at my baby, covered head to toe in milk and Olvaltine, from his tiny head all the way to his footy toes. He looked at me with a gigantic grin on his face, burped, and said

I'm really kicking myself that I didn't take a picture now. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words, and I lament the fact I can not show you what I got to see. Maybe next time. And knowing my kids, I feel safe in saying there probably will be a next time. Especially now that Soren is officially mobile.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Monkey See Monkey Do

Alright I have two things I want to say before I really get into this blog. First and foremost, I apologize for being seemingly lax on updating lately, and that unfortunately may continue for the next few weeks. I have been offered a wonderful new role in my local mommys board and I'm currently in the middle of transitioning myself and learning the ropes. I have been in front of this computer almost nonstop until midnight each night trying to learn and organize. You know it's bad when you dream about account information and advertising for two nights in a row ha! So bear with me my fellow readers, and know I'm not intentionally spacing out. I just have a lot on my plate. Once I'm settled in my new role I should hopefully pick back up again!

Secondly, I feel I should offer fair forewarning to any of my male readers. I dont know how squeamish you guys are about female anatomy in regards to nursing, or subsequent events that happen with 2 yr olds that I am about to relate. So my XY chromosome followers, read at your own risk!

The other night I was talking to one of my best friends who is a new Stay at home dad to his first son who is also the same age as Soren. I cant remember how we got into this topic of conversation but he told me I had to blog about a situation that happened a few months ago when Soren was only a few months old. So for my friend Greg, who couldn't stop guffawing as I related this story to him, I dedicate this post to you.

One of the things about having a newborn is that you're main job initially is to clean their diapers, hold them, and feed them be it by nursing or bottle. I nursed (still do for Soren). And when newborns are hungry you dont have the time or energy to worry about who is watching, You just instinctively nurse. On top of that, when Im at home, I'm fairly blase about the whole thing. My older boys have learned that nursing is natural and nothing to flip out about. It's just a part of the whole baby thing. So in the beginning months I always found myself sitting down next to Ashe while he watched Dora and nursed Soren.

After a month or two, Ashe decided he wanted a baby too. He has a baby doll he named Kora, and whenever I wandered around with Soren in my arms, Ashe would grab "Baby Kora" and wander with me. If I changed Sorens diapers, Ashe would want me to help him change Baby Kora too. If I wrapped Soren in a blanket and started crooning to him, Ashe would find a baby blanket and smother his baby doll (thank goodness you dont have to worry about dolls and oxygen or we would have had issues) and sing too. Monkey see Monkey do. So I should have seen this coming. But I didn't. I was too tired and sleep deprived.

One day I am sitting on the couch and Soren starts to root around looking for food. I positioned him appropriately and he went to town. Next thing I notice, Ashe walks in with Baby Kora dangling by his toy pacifier string. He sits down next to me.
"Yes, Soren is eating."
"BABY KORA HUNGRY TOO. I FEED BABY KORA" and he proceeds to lift his shirt and place baby Kora on to his chest... just like Soren is to me. I must say, Ashe has an instinctively good position! I dont know if I should be proud of him for that or what.

So after a moment it sunk in that he was trying to nurse his doll. Just like me. And I thought OH MY GOD I HAVE BROKEN MY SON! Mouth agape I watched.... and then just burst out laughing. Broken or not the scene was just too surreal and hysterical. Try to imagine a 2 yr old boy trying to latch his baby doll on to his nipple.

After I caught my breath I told him "Sweetie, only Mommys can feed their babys like that. Daddys feed their babys with a bottle. When you grow up you will be a Daddy. Would you like me to get you a bottle so you can feed baby Kora?
"OH.... OK MOMMY."
So we amble into the kitchen while I answer those wonderfully awkward questions (WHY DO DADDYS FEED WITH A BOTTLE AND MOMMYS FEED WITH THEIR CHEST?") and prepare a small bottle just for Ashe and his Baby Kora. I showed him how to feed his doll (Shirt down please, thank you sweetie) and he happily skips off bottle in one hand, Baby Kora dangling by his paci thread again in the other, to find a seat on the couch and feed his baby.

And I'm left to tell J I may have inadvertently warped our middle child. To quote one of my favorite bloggers, Good times.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

The Witching Hour

Every family has one. Every parent fears them. You can not escape it, no matter how hard you try. It's impossible to do so. And it happens EVERY DAY. That one point in your waking hours when your nightmares come true,  the clock strikes a certain hour and time halts to an agonizing crawl. Each minute feels like 5 and you find yourself glancing at the clock over and over and over again, pleading with the second hand to hurry the heck up and just MOVE FASTER!!! On top of this, the moment the clock strikes your hour, your kids suddenly morph into these little hellions, bent on utterly destroying what little sanity you may yet still cling to, different tactics each day but always with the same nail on the chalkboard intensity, and nothing, nothing you do, will stop them. You can't bribe them. You can not reason with them. You can't use warnings and get an effect. Time outs mean nothing to them. No. Oh no. You are on your own, dearie. And you must use your wits to survive and stay sane, always struggling with that instinctive desire to run out of the house screaming, pulling at your hair, and spouting gibberish. This awful time of the day is different for each family, sometimes even different for each parent. And there is nothing you can do but to hold on and ride it out. What is it that I speak of? This point in time that is so dreadful it can make any parent reduced to shudders, wincing at the thought of yesterdays hour, dreading the return of todays? My friends, It is called The Witching Hour.

The Witching Hour for me is from 4:30-5:30 pm every single day without fail. This is the time in my day that I prepare for from the moment my eyes open in the morning. The moment the clock turns to 4:29 I heave a sigh of resignation, take a few deep breaths, try to mentally shield myself from what I know is about to come, and shed just one, small mental tear of despair. Then I make sure to dive for my Ipod (the only weapon against the hour I have found to be  worthy and has saved me many times over), clip it on, and dive into the hour that Time forgets.

In this hour many things occur simultaneously. The least of which is that I have to start preparing dinner for a family of five to be ready by 5:30. Then I have to get my 7 yr old to start, and stay on track of, his homework. While I wrangle him to the table, I must also deal with the inevitable screams and howls of outrage from my infant who has decided (right at 4:30) that I MUST pick him up now and hold him nonstop, while trying to open hot oven or stir hot pots, slice and dice, pour, and sauté. I'll be honest folks. I've almost completely given up on fresh food. I am a huge fan of frozen dinners lately. Of course I have to weigh the risks of holding the baby while cooking vs. the shattered eardrums that may come with leaving him nearby in sight but not held, adding in the factor that of course J, who works from home, is on an important phone call and so I have to try and keep everyone at least to a decibel level that does not reverberate through the entire household. Next, as I am arguing with my 7 yr old who has decided all of a sudden he is STARVING and must eat now, and doesn't want to wait for dinner, which causes an argument about how its my fault he has to wait to eat, completely disregarding the fact that I offered him a snack the moment he walked in the door from school 30 minutes ago but he refused because he wasn't hungry then...... my 3 yr old decides he is a dog and wants me to play Fetch with the TV remote control. I try to redirect him to something else while I glances at the stove and notice that something doesnt smell right (OH CRAP THE WATER IS BURNING.... HOW DO YOU BURN WATER?!??!?!?!) while also glancing to see that it's only 4:34. 56 minutes to go.

Of course as I am trying to redirect my 3 yr old he accidentally steps on the babys finger which elicits a piercing shriek followed by sobs. I rush to lower the temperature of the stove, dive down to scoop up the baby and comfort him, then ask my 3 yr old to please PLEASE would you like to go watch Dora????... No, he doesn't. He wants to do homework like his older brother. With the same paper. No, not the same kind of paper, that would be too easy!!! The same piece of paper. of course, my normally deaf 7 yr old hears this across the room and starts to yell at his brother "YOU CAN'T HAVE MY PAPER I'M DOING MY HOMEWORK" as I notice in reality all he has done is put his name on the paper and started doodling a Star Wars figure at the top right corner. Juggling the baby on my hip I tell one boy to lower your voice, the other he cant have his brothers paper he needs his own, and start scrambling around looking for some crayons. Next I lean over to my 7 yr old, tell him he needs to start his homework and I will check back in 5 minutes. If nothing has been done he will get a time out for not following directions. Then I race over to the kitchen, place the sobbing baby in his excersaucer, throw some baby snacks to him, check the time. 4:40 pm  50 minutes to go.

I grab the entree, throw it in the oven, and start figuring out what would be a good side item. In the background I hear emerging mutterings from the two older tyrants, which soon turn to all out screams of defiance and outrage. I whip around and see my two boys in a tug of war over a pencil. Not just any pencil. A Transformer pencil, one of about 73 we have in our junk drawer 2 feet from me. Why they feel the need to fight over something that we have plenty of I could never tell you. I just don't have an answer. I dont know who started it, and frankly I dont care. I reach out to our drawer, grab a fistful of pencils, jump over the excersaucer and wailing baby to get to the table, and slam down my filled hand urging each boy to "Knock it off there are plenty of pencils!!!" I glance over at my 7 yr olds homework. He's written 3 words on his paper. I glare at him and mouth "Do. Your. Homework....Now." He glares back and mutters under his breath, but his hand moves with a pencil in grasp and under my hawk eye, incredibly he starts to write. After keeping my gaze on him for a moment more to solidify the fact that I am indeed watching, I glance down at my 3 yr old to make sure he is fine and not coloring on the table top, but actual paper. I bustle back to the kitchen, croon my my ticked off baby, give him a kiss, detach his clenched hands in my hair, and check both the food and the time. 4:54 pm.

This is when I bring out my weapon. I look to make sure all the kids are relatively safe and all the knives are high up enough so that no one can sneak by, grab one, and start playing "REAL PIRATES", double check to make sure the baby is safely contained I have a stock of baby toys to alternately try and tame him with, then plug my ears up with my I Pod ear plugs, hit play, and turn the volume up high enough that I can hear nothing but music. I have found, after trying multiple songs and only getting a positive feedback consistently, that if I play the song "Do You Want To Date My Avatar?" and sing it each time to the baby, he looks like he stops crying and once in awhile I catch a glimmer of a smile. On those very rare occasions I can catch what looks like a laugh erupt on his facial features. I could be wrong. I can't hear anything by this time. But I tell myself he is, and set to work on dinner, singing and dancing. Once in awhile I walk over to the table to make sure my 7 yr old is doing his homework, and doing what I can to make sure he stays doing it until it is complete. I then check to make sure my 3 yr old is alive, well, and if he is destroying the living room by then, I can at least sigh in relief knowing that nothing breakable is valuable.  Then  making sure dinner is ok on it's own, I place the baby in his high chair, grab some food for him, and settle down to get splattered with liquid ham and pineapples. Im now fighting to keep sane and dinner on the table at the appropriate time by drowning myself in my music.

It usually takes about 7 or 8 repetitions of the song before I am almost home free. At 5:25 I pull off my plugs, bark out that homework time is done and if it hasn't been completed he can do it after dinner but for now please clear the table. I send my other boy up to tell J it's time for dinner. I get out plates and utensils, place them side by side, and dole out portions, cutting up the kids so they are easy bites. I throw pots and pans into the sink, pull out 4 cups, pick a drink for us all (sometimes wine for Mommy) and by 5:30 I have everyone at the table, sitting down, eating (most of the time) and happily chatting about their day.

After dinner is done, the kids have put their dishes in the sink and I have loaded and turned on the dishwasher, I take a step outside and breathe. It's now Js turn to watch the kids so I can take a break and bask in the glory that I have survived yet another Witching Hour. I have 23 hours left before I must go through it again. Poor J though. His Witching Hour starts at about 7 pm each night, when he puts the two older boys to bed. I mentally wish him luck.

Photo courtesy of craziestgadgets.com

Monday, February 15, 2010

My Real Fantasy

Alight, so you are going to hate me. Hell, I'd hate me too if I wasn't me. But I am me, and I'm going to share something that will make any parent who is not me jealous. Ready?.....

I got to have a night out. Not just any night out where I had to come home at 3 am and deal with kids in the morning either. It was a full night out, complete with a hotel room SANS KIDS!!!!.....

..... and it was as awesome as you can fantasize. J and I fell asleep with big smiles on our faces knowing we didn't have to worry about being rudely awakened from our slumber by a crying infant or someone who didn't make it to the potty in time and needed a change of clothes (and sheets). We woke up at 8:30 in the morning, looked at the clock, looked at each other, and rolled back over and passed out again in pure bliss. We didn't get up until 10:30 and that was only because we knew if we passed back out again we may miss our hotel check out time.

For the first time in over 3 years (roughly 1095 days, give or take a month) we had a night out. yes, I am taking advantage of my mom finally living close by enough to watch over the kiddos during the weekend. Although she is practically shooing us out of the house too, offering to pay for a hotel just to get us out. I heart my mom. And already I am fantasizing about our next night out. I don't know when it will be, but I plan on trying to make this a little bit more regular. Maybe twice a year! Oh wow that would be so awesome!!!! I'm mentally drooling at the thought!

There were no crumbs in the bed, left over from kids deciding to come "cuddle you" in our bed. There were no squeaky toys hiding under the covers to scare the crap out of me as I tossed in my sleep. There were plenty of covers and pillows to go around without having to fight for that corner of quilt.

And the silence. I now understand the saying "Silence is Golden". I felt it. There was no moniter playing radio music just loud enough to be an annoying buzz in my ear as I tried to both sleep and listen for any rustlings of the baby. There was no pounding of kids feet above my head as they rushed to the bathroom, sounding just like a herd of pachyderms racing through our second floor. There was no hushed giggling at 4 in the morning as one boy tried to shine a book light in the eyes of his brother trying to wake him up (this happened last night by the way and I am seriously reconsidering that book light Xavier got as a Christmas gift.) None of that. Just J and I, in a cozy bed, with the shades closed to keep out the sunlight, and the sandman whacking us upside the head putting us into a blissful, uninterrupted slumber.

Man I forgot how good a decent nights sleep feels! of course, now that I had a taste of it, I want more. A lot more.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

If You Don't Have Boys...

look at all the fun you miss out on. I woke up this morning after a very rough night of little sleep. As I step out of the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee in hand I almost jumped when I saw the dining room table and what was on it...

No, that's not a real Cockroach, as I thought initially. It's one of Ashes toy Cockroaches he got for Christmas. One of the boys must have been playing with it and left it oh so cleverly by a forgotten morning sandwich. Proof it's not real? I picked it up

Just a typical morning in a household filled with boys and their bug toys. No coffee was spilled or harmed so it's all good.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Chocolate, Crafts and 3 Year Olds

I promised my FB friends I'd post a blog about todays adventure in lollipop making so here it is, pictures and all!

Today I did something I never attempted to do before. I decided to try and make chocolate Lollipops for Valentines Day with Ashe. Yeah, I suck in the crafty department. Mainly I fear scalded skin, scissor scrapes, and all the other assorted types of injuries that come with Elmers Glue and glitter. Especially knowing my accident prone 3 yr old. I swear he sneezes and we end up in ER. But today I took a chance in the hopes of doing something that would be equally fun and yummy!

After Sorens morning nap I wheedled, whined, and finally ordered Ashe to get on his shoes because we were headed to AC Moores to grab some stuff and make Valentine lollipops for his preschool. After compromising by allowing him to bring his Indiana Jones snake and "Dadet" (his blankie) to the car, he agreed to tag along and follow the rules (Stay wif Mommy and Fowwow Drections) of shopping. Once there he peacefully followed me around as I searched for molds and chocolate.

One home, I put Soren in his high chair to watch the entertainment, along with some snacks, and Ashe and I got down to work. Thank you Carey, for the ingenious idea of microwaving the chocolate bits instead of the stove! It worked like a charm. We prepped everything, melted the chocolate, and Ashe had a lot of fun putting the sticks in the molds. Then onto the chocolaty goodness part!

Ashe carefully spooning melted chocolate into the mold while I kept reminding myself my cell phone was in my back pocket in case I needed to call 911 for potential burns. Neurotic much? Yup.It wasnt even that hot, but I just dont trust anything with Ashe... or is it the other way around?

After a few attempts at pouring chocolate into the mold some chocolate got onto Ashes fingers. Now I always forget that despite dirty faces, my kids, all of them, are OCD about getting something on their hands. They just flip out until its washed off. I dont know where this comes from and its not for any other body part. So once a dribble of chocolate touched Ashes fingers he decided he was just DONE with spooning. Instead he happily licked a spoon and watched Mommy. 

Don't let his frown fool you. He enjoyed every bit. Trust me. 

Of course Soren didn't want to be left out. He got a spoon too. And a new outfit, shortly after.

While waiting for Mommy to finish up, Ashe went off to do a few more crafts. We went with a Ladybug theme (his favorite bug EVAR... but Cockroaches come in close second) and he made a Ladybug photo frame, a necklace, and colored in a wooden heart which he proudly displayed for the camera every time he saw my pick up my digi cam...

Finally they were cooled off enough to pop out and put in bags, ready for delivery! I have to say they came out great. I didnt have one, but both Ashe and Xavier got one lollipop. While Ashe was too busy to tell me how it was with the entire pop shoved in his mouth, Xavier promised me it was like "Paradise"... his words, not mine. We made enough for Ashes preschool, the boys to give to one another, a few family friends, and Grammy and Grampa. So yay! 

Frog and Ladybug Chocolate Lollipops

Mission accomplished. I tried something new and no one ended up hurt woot! I may get crazy enough to try this more often. Who knows?

My Superhero

"Mommy will you be my Robin?"

I glance over and see Ashe in PJs, topped with his Batman winter hat and Batman gloves. He's peeking out of his hat, pushed way down so he can barely see, and he is watching me, breathlessly awaiting my response.
"Of course. I'll be your Robin."
"Ok you be Robin, I Batman. Who Soren?"
"How about The Joker?" I suggest.
"OK! And Zavi is Penguin, and Daddy is Batmobile."
My thirteen yr old boy mind kicks in and I want to quip does that mean I get to ride Daddy? But I don't. I giggle inwardly instead.

This is a common scenario in our house lately. Ashe loves everything his older brother does (Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Transformers) but his love of Batman is his own. It started around his birthday when friends of ours, who have a boy Ashes age and loves Batman, got him a Bat plane for a gift. It's been love ever since. For Christmas, Ashe got the Bat Cave from Santa, filled with figurines of the legendary hero, his sidekick, and of course, what set wouldnt be complete without villains to fight? Ashe and Zavi love to play with it together, not fighting over the figurines, only who gets to move the elevator shaft.

When it started getting cold enough to think about hats, we went shopping and Ashe found his dream hat and matching mittens: Its a Batman hat, complete with Batmans face and bat ears like Batmans mask. So now, even indoors, Ashe insists on wearing it pretty much nonstop. 

Our local Batman taking a break from fighting crime

It's pretty much a guarantee that at some point in the day I will be asked if I am his Robin, or sidekick. And I always say yes. While I don't have to wear a grotesque green bodysuit with red and yellow underwear over (Thank you for small favors), I think to myself this is a good parallel to what it is to be a Mom or Dad:  to be there for your kids, letting them know that you're always by their side ready to help if they need it, but letting them learn and conquer new things on their own as much as possible, while cheering them on. 

Yesterday Ashe replaced his Batman hat with a green snake and was whipping it around the house with a scowl on his face. Concerned he was upset over something (he was really scowling) I asked him what was up.
"Mommy I Indie Jones! This is my Snake Whip!"
"Oh. Ok Indie, just make sure you whip that on the ground and not at people."
"Because you could hurt someone."
"OK. I no hurt someone. Only bad guys."
"Thanks Superhero."

I'm grateful he loves the good guys and isnt trying to emulate the villains like Xavier does. It's nice when the two of them play together. I dont have to break up any arguments over who will be who. Just who wins.

Thursday, February 4, 2010


I love genetics. When I was in high school biology I remember a lesson that started my love for them. We were learning about dominant and recessive genes and used eye and hair color as examples. Since that lesson I've always been interested in gene make up and it came into play a lot when I first became a Mom.

One lesson I remember learning was that blonde hair and blue eyes are recessive genes, whereas darker hair and brown eyes are dominant. When J and I began dating (I was still in high school) he had dirty blonde hair and the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. His hair has since darkened to a light brown, but his eyes are as penetrating and arresting as ever. I, on the other hand, have hazel eyes that change color depending on my mood, and dark brown hair, bordering on black. So when we married and talked kids, in the back of my mind I just assumed due to genetics and percentages that we would probably have dark haired, hazel eyed kids. Especially seeing as I do not know off the top of my head anyone in my family with blue eyes. I assumed both genes passed on to me from my parents were the dominant darker gene.

So imagine my surprise when Xavier was born, and he had Js eye color hands down, and they never changed over the months that baby eyes tend to. If what I learned back in high school was correct, it meant that I carried the blue eye gene too, but have hazel eyes because of the dominant gene. And as his fuzz grew in at a year old he was definitely blonde blonde blonde. And I remember thinking to myself then, how funny that genetics works out this way, and here we have a child with a 25% chance (now that I know I carry the blue eye gene) to have a child with blonde hair or blue eyes, yet we have a child with both! I thought it was great, but that he would probably be our one and only carbon copy of J.

Then Ashe arrived. Same startling blue eyes, same blonde hair though with a tinge of honey color to it. And I thought, how odd, who would have thunk that we could get 2 children with the same recessive traits from two adults, one of which (me) carries the ever dominant dark hair dark eye genes?

Then we got pregnant with Soren. And I half jokingly said there was no way in hell we would have 3 for 3 in regards to coloring. This baby would have either dark hair and blue eyes, or blonde hair and dark eyes, or dark hair and dark eyes and one child would finally look like me. There's no way I could be the only dark haired dark eyes person in the family, especially seeing as I was destined to be the only female in our family unit. But when he was born and turned those big blue eyes to stare fuzzily into my face I knew it was to be a false hope. True to form, he has Js eye color and his fuzz is just as blonde as his two older brothers. He's beautiful. They all are.

I started searching for what part of me I passed on to my kids when I noticed each one looks like J. People say they look like me when they see us together, but almost every person who has said that and then sees them with J has retracted their statement and agree they are carbon copies of my husband. I take that as a major compliment because J is pretty damn good looking. But in the (almost) 8 years of being a Mom I can think of only one time someone saw us all together and they said the boys look like me. In fact it only happened a few months ago and I remember being excited, poking J in the arm whispering "Did you hear that? Wow! He said they look like me!!" The only statement I get often I can agree with is they have my eye shape. But thats about it in the physical category. However they definitely carry some of my genes in the personality department.

Xavier is stubborn as hell, just like me. He gets it from the Baran side of the family ( my paternal side) where stubbornness comes as easy as breathing if not easier. He has a penchant for talking.... nonstop...about nothing. Like me. Ashe is outgoing like me and unlike J. Soren is still developing so I cant say yet what he taken from my side of the genetic pool.

J knows I search for things in the kids to somehow prove these Nordic looking children really did come from me, as way to somehow prove these are my kids. So when the boys do something outrageous he loves to point at them, look at me and mouth "Your side of family." And that brings me to why I blog today.

Early this morning Ashe woke up and wandered into our bedroom looking for a glass of chocolate milk and to ask if he could watch tv. J stumbled out of bed to comply then came back to snuggle into the warm bed covers for a few more minutes before getting up for the day. It's quiet and we're both almost back asleep when the door bangs open and Ashe proudly declares "HEY DADDY! I FARTED! I FARTED DADDY!!!" then runs off giggling, slamming the door behind him.

J turned his face to me, groggily opened his eyes in little slits and said "That comes from you." and rolled back over while I chuckled softly..... Now that I think of it, he better have meant Ashes sense of humor.....

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

I HAVE A Job Thankyouverymuch!

"Why don't you have a job?"

This was asked to me today by Xavier, as I finished buckling Ashe and Soren into their carseats and popped into the drivers seat as we were leaving Target to pick up prescription meds and other various household items needed. It was a good thing the car was in park because I probably would have slammed on the brakes and caused a fender bender. Instead I gripped the steering wheel, closed my eyes and took a breath.

I know Xavier doesnt know why this question would bother me because he is still so young and blissfully ignorant on the world. To him, things are very black and white. You either go to work, which involves typing on the computer all day, having business meetings and bringing home a paycheck. Or you dont have a job. While I can brush off Xaviers innocent question to just that, innocence, hearing it is like nails on a chalkboard. A lot of adults believe the same way Xavier does. And they do not have that child like innocence to use as an excuse.

Another reason though, a more quiet one that often goes unspoken but races through my mind a lot as I go about my days, is that while I know I have a job that is one of the hardest ones in the world, there is a part of me that also feels like it's not enough. Not necessarily not enough for me, but that general concept that because I dont bring in a paycheck to help with expenses, that maybe I'm not pulling my weight, my equal share. You can show me spreadsheets of how much of what I do is worth as a paying job. In fact the 2009 survey from salary.com shows that Stay At Home Moms National average yearly salary is estimated at $122732 You can show me how much I am saving our family expense wise by not paying out for daycare to go to a job that would only pull in enough to cover maybe that expense, but wouldnt cover the expense of professional clothing, the cost of all my implements I would need, the lunches out, continual classes not paid for by employers but are a MUST in order to keep up my license. So in the long run I realize logistically that staying home to raise our 3 kids is actually saving us a lot of money plus I get to be there for my kids. But sometimes I look at J as I take a quick break and pop on the computer for a moment of respite and wonder if I do enough to be considered a true equal partner? And that bothers me because I always want to be equal in the eyes of my husband and children.

But then I quickly see the flipside and think of all the people who really believe that being a Mom at home really isnt a job. It doesnt count. It's not that hard. It doesnt bring in a paycheck. I mean what could you possibly fill your day with all day long? And that bothers me. Because it usually comes from people who have no idea what they are talking about, haven't tried it, haven't lived it. There is a misconception that Moms who do not work outside of the house have a lot of free time on their hands. Yes, I get some free time once in awhile. Some days more than others. I steal those time periods when I can to have a quick mental recharge so I can keep going with listening nonstop about Transformers with "interest" or Lego Batman, or read The Very Hungry Caterpillar with feeling for the 80th time in a week, or bounce my baby to make him smile instead of crying. If I didnt have some time in between I'd go bonkers. I might already have anyways, who knows? J seems to imply that I have on occasion ha!

But if you peeked into my house and maybe saw me sitting on the couch with the tv on and my kids sitting beside me and think "Where the hell are the bon bons har har?"  you missed the fact the baby is either nursing or trying to learn to stand up by pulling my hair out in hanks and I am encouraging him. Or you might miss the fact that I am chatting with Ashe, who in the past had a speech delay and has only recently really overcome this through months of speech and developmental therapy that we did together every week. Or maybe I just got home from picking up medication for Xavier from target after having to run to the Drs office EVERY month to get his prescription because it can not be automatically refilled. Or we just got home from a day out at the Museum, me chasing an active 3 yr old who is running from exhibit to exhibit excited at learning about each one while I have a 16 1/2 pound baby strapped to my chest. Or we're relaxing from a trip to the park to get exercise and sunshine. Maybe I've got a load (or 8) of laundry being washed and dried, and the dishwasher is going from the gazillion dishes a family of 5 goes through. Maybe you notice bits of food on the floor. That would be from Soren learning to eat table food and we dont have a dog to pick up after. Normally I try and dust bust it when I find a free moment.

Maybe you notice my hair is in a ponytail and I'm still in sweats with snot stains on my shirt when I run out with the kids for an errand.. And you may think "Whoa that chick really let herself go!!! I'll never be like that!" without having any clue that I was up every 2 hours to nurse my baby, or dealing with a sobbing child suffering a nasty nightmare, or a wet bed from potty training and you know what? I'm fucking tired!!!! That snot stain is from my 7 month old who happens to have a cold and is teething 2 teeth at the same time. Trust me, I changed shirts before I left the house. This was just from walking from the minivan to the store entrance.

Or maybe you see my kid throwing himself down on the floor in a store and think "How sad, that kids can get away with behaving so awfully in public these days. When I was a kid..." I dont know what it was like when you were a kid, but I bet when you were you threw tantrums too. Parents deal with this stuff every day. Especially at the 2-4 stage. It's part of childhood development. And yes, kids love to pick the perfect spot in public to let it be known they are PISSED and you damn well better acknowledge it! But they do it just as often at home, if not more. And we're there to both teach them how to verbalize their emotions and learn better alternatives as they grow.

Then there is homework for older kids, making sure that they do it and do it correctly without you doing it for them. Then teaching responsibility to children by giving them and enforcing chores. And staying consistent and enforce those chores and rules when they get snippy. Or answer daunting questions like "Where do Babies come from" on the fly because they never give you time to prep for the big questions. Nope. They put you on the spot anytime, anywhere, and you damn well better have a good answer for them because if you fuck up or lie, trust me, they will find out one day. And when those more important conversations could crop up, if they don't trust you from before, they may not trust you in the future, when it really matters.

Dinner consists of whatever I can get my hands on and cook in 15 minutes because wouldnt you know, when it's time to make dinner, thats the witching hour in our house. Tantrums, whining, dawdling on homework, crying baby who wants to nurse while you're trying to cook pasta over the stove and you have to choose "Do I nurse baby and let the pasta over cook and have dinner be late for everyone else, or cook the pasta and let the baby cry? Gone are the days when J and I could sit down to a peaceful 3 course meal, sip wine, and really talk. Nowadays I shovel food into my mouth as fast as I can amidst getting things set for the kids, cajoling them to eat their dinner, and trying to both listen to J about his day at work and Xavier tell us about how ghosts are REAL MOM THEY REALLY ARE!

I am one of the lucky ones.I have a kick ass husband who pulls his weight and then some when I can not for one reason or another. J is the one who takes over after dinner, allowing me some quiet time at night. He puts the older two to bed each night while I take care of Soren. I take night shift and deal with anything that occurs between 11pm - 4am, he allows me to sleep in to catch a stretch of a few hours uninterrupted in the early morning. He is there for every parent teacher conference. And since we moved down here and he works from home, he has been my godsend when I need to rush to the DRs for one kid or another and dont want to bring the entire brood. He gets it when I need to get out of the house for a little bit, just to unwind. And he never complains in a serious tone. I acknowledge I have more help than the average Stay at home Mom. And I appreciate everything he does for us (and no Im not just adding this in because he reads my blogs. It's all true. Smooches, Babes)

But while I do not bring in a physical paycheck, I do have a job. It may not have a 401k plan, or an insurance package. I may not be able to physically bring in a paycheck to help pay the bills.  I dont have a 9-5 job. I do have a 24/7 job with no vacation or sick days. I do have 3 tough bosses. I do get yelled at often. But I get paid with sticky kisses and hugs, "I wuv yous", and shrieks of delight when I walk into a room. I get adoring pats on the faces and cuddles. I get "Thanks Mom" when I help my son figure out a hard homework question by walking him though it.

How to explain all this to a 7 yr old? How to make him understand that while it might not look like I do much for the family in the stereotypical sense I'm still doing something I feel is worthwhile and worth giving up the chance at social security and stocks and bonds? In the end, I just tried to explain a few of the examples I used above in a more simple way: No I dont get paid in cash but I get paid in other ways. And while it might look like I have a weekend nonstop, I dont really get weekends in the way he means. My weekend days are almost identical to my weekdays except for the fact that J is able to help out more so I can relax a bit. But that doesnt mean it's a free ride. I dont know if I made it clear to him enough but I hope I at least gave him the foundation of understanding that being a parent and one that stays home is not something that is less respectable than a typical job. And it is a job.

I came home and walked into the office where J was working. I mentioned to him what Xavier said to me and he burst out laughing. His comment? "I remember making that mistake...once." I love that man.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Moving Up In The World

Alright, one more blog for today then I'm done. Yes I know, I tend to blog in spurts. That's just how we roll here folks. Speaking of rolls...

No matter how much I nurse and then feed Soren baby food right before, he insists on "sharing" Js food with him at dinnertime. Tonight he stole J's dinner roll right out from under him. While I don't have a photo of that, I did grab a few snapshots of him stealing J's glass of water. What is missing in these photos, unfortunately, is the instant where Soren literally snagged the glass out of J's hand and tried to drink it on his own. Fortunately J has amazingly fast reflexes (must be something you get when you have 3 kids) and was able to save the glass from dropping, and both he and Soren from being completely soaked.

He noticed I had the camera and stopped for a photo op. Typical Beaulac Boy.

Screw Sippy cups, folks. We're going hard core and straight to crystal glasses at a mere 7 months of age.

Phone Etiquette

Not having a land line phone (cell phones only in this family), I admit to the fact that my children dont have too much of a chance to work on their phone etiquette. My bad. But I'm not going to pay a monthly fee for the ability of my kids to practice what to do on the off chance it's a Blue Moon and Jupiter is rising in the twelfth house and they get a phone call or need to call someone.

Last week Xavier brought home a tiny slip of paper with faded writing on it that looked kind of like numbers. He proudly informed me they constituted a phone number to his friend Christopher so that they could call each other and make a playdate. Great, I thought. A chance to add one more kid into the mix, one I don't know and probably hates all types of food except Tortellini and I'll be expected to feed him. I readily admit I am awful about play dates when the mom is not planning on staying. Despite the argument that it's great because the boys will keep each other entertained and out of my hair I have found the exact opposite to be true. Generally they sit around whining for things to do but shooting down every suggestion I offer, or want to eat but hate everything in the house, from chicken nuggets, to hot dogs to peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And then Ashe wants to join in and play with them, but they shut the door in his face and I'm left comforting a sobbing kid who only wants to have fun but is shunned and doomed to sit with Mommy, who is frankly, a lot more boring than his older brother and a new potential friend, in Ashes eyes.

Enough of my tangent. So phone etiquette.

With today being a snow day Xavier is bouncing around the house like a pogo stick on speed, crashing into everything remotely possible to crash into. He and Ashe are at it like 2 starving cats fighting over a poor mouse. I have tried, Moon Sand, Wii, Batman, coloring. Everything turns into a war between the two. After days (I mean hours) of this Ashe finally finds soemthing to do on his own and Xavier is wandering around aimlessly. As Im cleaning up the kitchen he saunters in and his eye catches sight of the tiny scrap of paper hung on the fridge.

"Mom, can Christopher come over today?"
"No, hon, the roads are really bad right now with ice, which is why you're not in school. It wouldnt be a good idea to have him have to drive over. But you can call him if you want."
"Sure. Here, I'll dial the number and you call. You know what to do right?"
"Ummm...... no."
"No? Seriously?"
"No, Mom."
Ok then mom, time to step up to the plate and teach your son ...

How to Use The Phone

1. Have Mom dial the number

2. Put the phone to your ear and wait for someone to pick up

3. When someone says hello you say "Hi, may I please speak to Christopher?"

4. When they ask who is calling you say "This is his friend Xavier."

5. If no one is home and you get the voicemail, wait for the beep and say "Hi this is Christophers friend, Xavier. I just called to say hello. My number is 867-5309  (no, that is not our number and I didnt teach him that... but it would be kind of funny now that I think about it.)

We go over this a few times until he feels comfortable and ready. So I dial the number. 4 different numbers to be exact because due to the fading pencil markings and the fact the numbers are really hard to read I keep getting the wrong number. Oops. Finally dialing the correct number, I hand the phone over to Xavier and he wanders off into the dining room while I continue cleaning up. After a spell of silence I feel a tap on my shoulder. Xavier is holding up the phone to me and says 
"Mom, it was voicemail."
"Ok hon, did you leave a message?"
"No, I forgot what to say."
"So, you hung up without saying anything?"
"Oh no Mom, that would be rude!"
"So what did you do?"
"The voicemail is on right now."
"...Right now? As in its hearing us talk?"
"I think so."
"Ok Xavier, lets go over this one more time. Please hang up the phone and we'll try again."


After another 5 minutes of practice and prep talk he finally tried again and got it right. And he felt confident after that. But if Christophers mom somehow stumbles on this blog, I am truly sorry about the first voicemail. I didnt mean to make your phone or your son a lesson for my son. I hope we didnt waste too much space as I have no idea how long Xavier waited to tell me he had your voicemail going. I owe you a coffee! Even better, I'll man up and let the kids come here to my house the first couple of times.


Let me preface this blog by saying I am no stranger to pain. I have gone through three labors, all natural (two I had no chance in hell in getting my epi due to how fast the boys decided to come and by the time #3 rolled around I basically said eff it, I can handle it one more time).

And now I am going to outrage many women here on this planet by saying something considered blasphemous. Sorry ladies. I just dealt with pain this weekend so fierce that it made labor seem like a walk in the park. There, I said it. And I promise I'm not being overly dramatic. After this weekends episode I think I would choose having another baby au natural than to go through this crap again. See the difference between these two pains is that with labor, you know it will end. And you know at the end you are going to be given one of the most precious things in the entire world, and something you have been dreaming for for months. You have also had months and months of mental preparation! This pain though, comes suddenly, without any mental prep, and you have no idea when it will stop. Not to mention you dont get to bring a precious baby home. Nope, you just get a shot in the arse.

So this pain I speak of....

I have a head cold and for all last week it kept getting steadily worse and OTC drugs did nada for it. I knew something was up when around 10:30 am Friday morning I went deaf all of a sudden in my right ear. Completely deaf. I had this odd feeling that I should maybe, just maybe, get a Drs appointment "just in case" seeing as we were going to be stormed out starting that evening and the entire city would be shut down for at least the weekend due to *gasp* snow. I made an appointment for 1:15 and went about my day with the boys.

By 11:30am I went from deaf to OMFG WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY EAR HOLY HELL SOMEONE PLEASE RIP MY EARDRUM OUT NOW AND LET THE PRESSURE OUT!!!!!!!. No joke. I tried for a day to come up with a good explanation for how it felt and the only thing I can think of is to imagine one of those balloons that clowns use to make balloon animals stuffed up into your head and being blown up and filled with jagged glass, and trying to pop out of your ear, but your eardrum is in the way and pushing back saying "oh hell no you can't come out this side" but the balloon filled with jagged glass wont stop blowing itself up and there is this war going on in your ear canal and you are just a witness to it and cant do anything to help.

And even that barely covers it.

I'm not saying I am awesome with pain. I admit I can be a baby sometimes. When I first get hurt I need people to back off and leave me be until I can get a handle on myself. If people bother me I explode. J has learned this early on that when I say I need a moment, I need a moment. It's kind of like having a mini panic attack that I need to both defeat before I can go on to dealing with my pain. Xavier is the exact same way as I am in confronting pain. Both of us need a moment for that initial impact to pass.

But this time the pain didnt fade. It only got worse as time went on, if that was even possible. And so while also dealing with this OMFG WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN MY EAR STOP STOP ANYBODY MAKE IT STOP pain, I also was dealing with that panicky attack thing nonstop. And I readily admit that it was the one time in my life that I was doing all I could to not drop to my knees and bawl on the kitchen floor. I couldnt because that would have scared the hell out of the boys but Oh God I wanted to more than anything else until the pain was taken away.

By the time 1 pm rolled around I was gasping for breath, constantly holding my ear, and in the Drs office filling out paperwork. Seriously, WTF people? I get that paperwork needs to be done, and I get that as I havent been to the DRs since I found out I was pregnant with Soren that it needed to be updated. But if you see a grown woman holding hear ear with tears in her eyes and she can barely talk from the pain, do not make them fill out paperwork until you have filled them with pain meds!!!!! I can not concentrate on my flipping name let alone my insurance information or who can have my medical records.

After all is said and done, and I finally meet the Dr,it's determined I have "THE RAGING EAR INFECTION OF 2010" (thats what I have titled it). She decides to inject me with steroids, supposedly to stop the pain in 20 minutes (har fucking har har. It took 2 hours before I could unclench my body and 4 hours before I could say I was pain free). And I get the shot in my arse, the first time ever in my life. Then I'm given a list about 3 feet long of all the meds I have to take for the next ten days, including steroids, antibiotics, and 800mg of Motrin throughout the day.

I get home, J sweetly rushes out to get my prescription filled and I sit on the couch trying to hold Soren who is whining, and my ear at the same time, rocking back and forth. J comes home an hour later with a sobbing Ashe (tantruming) and rushes out again because of course Target is out of Motrin due to the Tylenol recall. I cant take it anymore. I rush through our cupboards and find the codeine left over from when Soren was born and shove two tablets in my mouth.

J comes home and rushes back up to work. And as soon as his office door shuts, Ashe begins to sob. Soren follows suit. And I, still in pain that just will not let up, decide to join in too. Sometimes, you just need to let it all out.

It's now 3 days later. The pain is gone (and that is ALL I care about), but I am still deaf. J likes to quip it's nothing different, and that he's used to me being deaf anyways. I'm hoping to get my hearing back soon, but then again, there is a positive to being partially deaf. The screaming and fighting of the two boys stuck in the house due to the snow (I hate snow days) is muffled and not as ear piercing. I do try to look on the bright side of things once in awhile.

But I had better never have to go through this crap again. Ever. I might lose what little sanity I cling to now if it happens again. Forewarning, people.