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

Friday, March 30, 2012

Bedtime Theatrics

Kids are smart. And very, very diabolical. They know how to straddle the boundaries of parenting rules, push those buttons, and they laugh while doing it.

Take bedtime the other night:

J & I alternate bedtimes. This particular day was a HORRIBLE day for the kids and by the time dinner was finished I knew that I needed a break. Fortunately it was J's turn to put them to bed, so I grabbed my earplugs, plopped on the couch and ignored the fam while catching up on the Daily Show via Hulu. I barely noticed the boys heading up for night, I was so desperate for non child time. I did give them each kisses goodnight, but then turned right back to Jon Stewart.

After bedtime routines were complete, J wandered downstairs to his computer. I kept my ear plugs in.An hour later, caught up, I removed my earplugs to hear elephants dancing upstairs. The boys were NOT sleeping. Instead, it sounded like they were having a pagan festival shouting and dancing, along with numerous THUMPS that I would pay a good amount of money to bet that they were launching themselves off the bed. I'm sure they made a game of who could jump furthest.

Normally, if a parent puts the boys to bed the unspoken rule is that parent is also responsible for going upstairs and telling them to knock it off. But J hadn't shown himself since bedtime. I am guessing he also needed to escape and threw his own headphones on.

I tried to ignore it as long as I could. But by 9:30 with no fatherly intervention, I decided to deal with them. I sidled off the couch and started creeping up the stairs, trying to catch them unawares. But despite my stealth, I stepped on the third step, notorious for creaking. And while I would have thought the rumpus upstairs was loud enough to cover that tine squeak, the boys sometimes amazing hearing abilities (you know, the abilities they get when they know they're doing something wrong, but are deaf any other time of day?) kicked in. The next thing I hear is two year old Soren going "SHHHHHH! Ashe SHHHHHHHH!" a flurry of feet running, and then silence.

I open their door not a moment later. The light is on, the room is trashed, there are pull ups EVERY WHERE. And there are two little boys, "sleeping" peacefully, tucked in their matching covers, eyes closed. Soren is even trying to snore.

I smell bullshit. But... it was funny as hell. Trying as hard as I could not to burst out laughing, I said "You aren't fooling anyone boys. Go to sleep!".  They resisted acknowledging me as they continued their theatrics of sleeping angels and I closed the door.

I told J they needed more acting lessons if they wanted to pull that stunt off, but I have to admit, for amateurs in the theater business, they stayed in character.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

My Terrible Day

Today is that kind of day where I seriously question my sanity when I decided it was a good idea to have kids. If I had a time machine and could warp back to 11 years ago before I got pregnant I would consider going back to smack myself upside the head. I wouldn’t though, but I’d give it serious thought today.

I feel like Alexander and want to move to Australia.

I woke up this morning to the boys already at each others throats. Noticing the dark circles under J’s eyes and the fact he was downing tea like China was about to submerge underwater for all eternity, I guessed that they had been like this since they woke up.

Getting the kids into the car took more time and energy than normal, due to the constant bickering, forgetting things, and not sitting still so I could put shoes on their feet. I *almost* gave up and tossed them in the car barefoot, but it was only 30 degrees out. I didn’t feel like dealing with any nasty stares from the carpool people.

I asked them each to pick one thing to bring in the car for carpool: Xavier brought the Nook, Soren brought the I Pad, and Ashe brought his dragon puppet, Shakespeare.  Everyone seemed content. And then the fighting started. Ashe decided five minutes in that HE wanted the I Pad, and instead of asking Soren, he tried to rip it outof his hands. Being the youngest boy of three, Sorens MO for defense is to scream loud enough to shatter glass, and lash out with any appendage he can.

And it all went downhill from there.

I’ve been trying really really hard, to not lose my temper.I’m loud when I yell (due to projecting my voice through 9 years of theater)and It’s not pretty. But this was a day where yelling was inevitable. And while I hate the fact that I yelled (frequently today) there is a voice in the back of my mind right now that smugly quips that the little bastards deserved it this time.
When they tried bashing each other over their heads with electronics, I took all electronics away for an hour. Which made them both sit in the middle of the living room floor and sob for 45 minutes. When I told them to find something to play with, they wailed louder. When I threatened them with taking away all toys since they obviously did not like them, they wailed their way to the blocks and continued wailing while they built massive structures and knocked them down.

Once the hour was up, they happily sat on the couch to play a game together. It took them 3 minutes before they were fighting again. It continued all frikking day until I put Soren down for a nap and escaped down to my desktop to blow off steam. And then blogger broke.  So I have to write this in Word and hopefully publish it another day.

Some days, there just isn’t enough duct tape or alcohol inthe world to make the day turn around.

Monday, March 26, 2012


Shoot me now. Just get it over and done with. I promise, I'll thank you in the afterlife. Because we hit a new stage with Soren, and I remember how god awful it is when I went through it with the other two boys.

Soren has learned the word "Why".

Now, a part of me is excited with any new word he learns, seeing how it took him forever to start talking in the first place. I should be rejoicing that he has added new words to his list of vocabulary and can say more than bum, peepee, etc. But why did he pick up why? Dammit, WHY????

Soren has been shadowing Ashe and copying everything he does. Ashe says why a lot. But now I've got this parrot. A typical conversation goes like this:

Me: Ashe and Soren, it's time to pick up the blocks.
Ashe: Why?
Soren: Yeah, why?
Me (bashes forehead on nearest hard surface)

I wouldn't mind it as much if it were used frugally. But no, ANY time a word pops out of my mouth the instant response is "Why".

Me: Soren
Sore: Why?
Me: Flower
Soren: Why?
Me: Bathtime
Soren: Why?
Me: Butt
Soren: Why....(giggles)

I fucking hate this stage.

Friday, March 23, 2012


I must buy this shirt for Ashe. Have you ever seen those shirts that say "I put ketchup on my ketchup"? That's Ashe when it comes to Nutella. If he had his way, he would live on nothing but Nutella sandwiches for the rest of his life.

Ever notice how kids get stuck on one food for a long time? They refuse anything else and pitch a battle at every meal time if their ultimate food is not placed before them? Each child I have had has gone through this, but Ashe takes it to an extreme. I've had to compromise with him in order to make sure he got enough calories and vitamins to grow up. Dinner is MY turf. he has to eat or at least have a few bites of whatever I place in front of him. I don't care if he sits there until bedtime, if he doesn't eat it, he's not moving. But in return, I'll make him his favorite lunch: Nutella sandwiches with chocolate Soy Milk.

Even I, a lover of all things chocolate, watch him day after day and think I couldn't deal with that much chocolate on a daily basis. But I know with certainty, if I place a chocolate sandwich before him, on wheat bread, he will scarf it down.

I'm ok with this. I tossed out that idea of perfectly nutritious and balanced meals long ago when Xavier did the same thing and I realized we could either have a stand off each day and watch my boy wither into a skeleton and he made his independence known, or I could pick a different battle and concede defeat at lunch time.

I read once that there was a boy who lived on NOTHING but PB&J sandwiches for over 14 years and he was perfectly healthy. I have sympathy for that mom, and nod my head to her in understanding. I feel good knowing at least I can get Ashe to eat other food sources at dinner time.

And I watch Soren, the next in line for food battles. Fortunately he is our best eater. his favorite food? Broccoli. I kid you not, he's been known to want it for breakfast. And if he hits this food stage where all he wants to eat is broccoli, I'll be smiling every lunch time. You can't make that stuff up.

Do your kids have food wars? how do you handle it?

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A Letter to my Son on His Tenth Birthday

Dear Xavier,

On this day ten years ago, you made your first dramatic entrance. It hasn't been the last, as you are dramatic in everything you do. It's ok, son, you get those genes from me. And while I roll my eyes at you when you try to slide down the banister when I yell, err project, that it's dinnertime, and instead of the graceful landing you imagine you instead land in a pile of knobby limbs, I still laugh inside, knowing that at least part of me was rubbed off on you. Otherwise, seeing that you are a carbon copy of your father, I'd wonder if J's DNA overtook mine completely when you were created.

Your dramatic entrance to this world was preceded by your father puking his guts out all through the night from a virus, during a huge snow storm. You just had to pick the day your father was still green around the gills while I forced him to snow blow the driveway from the nine inches of accumulated snow. On the first day of spring, no less. I would have offered to do it myself, but I was as big as a blue whale, and I kept having to make leaping runs to the bathroom every three minutes to pee. I started having suspicions that my bladder wasn't that overloaded and was smart enough to toss a super plus maxi pad on, just in case. Which helped when my water fully broke as soon as I tossed your father's butt out the door in ten degree weather. Thank you for waiting until he was outside so I didn't have to explain that embarrassing moment.

After waiting for contractions to get stronger (and the driveway to be cleared despite the fact the street plows were nowhere in sight. Seriously folks, severely pregnant women should have first dibs on plowers) we headed over to the local hospital, where I started screaming for drugs before we even made it to the parking lot. Remind me to send your delivery doctor a card this week reminding him that I owe him a bitch slap. Because if you remember me ranting (many times) before, when I was admitted he told me I wasn't far enough along for drugs, and to let him know when the pain got to be almost too much. 40 minutes later when I complied, I was told it was too late. You were in such a rush to arrive that I went from 3 centimeters to PUSH DAMMIT in 40 fucking minutes. Not that I'm complaining. Much. But after ten years having you in my life, I realize that you are always in a rush. It's a part of who you are. You get that from me too. Oops.

Anyways, you were born, and instantly we were in awe and in utter love with you. You turned our lives upside down even when you were totally planned. You, my dear, just rocked. And ten years later, you're still rocking our life. Sometimes a little louder than we appreciate, but we expect that from kids. And our own genetic pools.

The one thing I regret was not having a digital camera when you were a baby. I fixed that before Ashe was born, but it still sucks knowing I need to one day scan the gazillion photos of you when you were little. Cause honey, you were a ham from the moment you took your first breath. Your face would light up whenever I pulled out my camera. Hell, you still light up nowadays.  You were the perfect round squishy baby. You looked EXACTLY like Charlie Brown. I did try looking for a yellow shirt with brown stripes to put you in, but fortunately for you, I couldn't find one. Because I would have totally pulled those photos out when you brought any girlfriend home.

Coming up to present time: I'm totally freaked out you're ten. I know how cliche it sounds to say it seems like only yesterday but really, it feels like only yesterday you were born. At the same time I could never imagine my life without you. I am SO FREAKING PROUD of all that you have accomplished, proud that you are such a strong person, and have been able to deal with all that life has thrown at you and can still laugh every day. I know your ADHD sucks. I know how tough it is for you. I hurt for you that you have to deal with this. But you know what, buddy? You make it look like anyone could handle the extra issues you have to deal with on a daily basis. And I know that's not true. You kick ass.

I know I may not say it enough. I know sometimes I seem like a major hard ass when I'm on your case about homework, or drowning our bathrooms (again) and ruining our ceiling with the water leakage. But I love, you, I'm so proud of you, and Dad and I are always there for you. I hope that we have shown that you CAN come to us with ANYTHING and we will be there to help, not judge.

You make me so happy when you're happy. I am thrilled to see you with your friends, having a grand old time and being a kid. I am loving it when you help your younger brothers out. I love that you help me out when I ask (most of the time). I love seeing you finally doing well and enjoying school. That was one of my biggest hopes for you.

And while I don't love Minecraft, Roblox, or Pokemon, I'm glad you have things you treasure and love. And while I do zone out when you tell me every minute detail about your recent mining expeditions on an online game, it's not because I don't care. I'm loving that you are passionate. Just remember, I hear you the first time. I don't need 42 reminders.

Soon, too soon, you will enter that scary world that is tween. Then teen. Please, please for Bob's sake, PLEASE come to me and talk then. Tell me about the girl you french kissed. Ask me about drugs, safe sex, and school. I'll give you straight up answers, promise to kick your ass if I ever find you huffing air fresheners (for your own good), and do right by you. But I'm always here to talk frank. I never had that as a child and I am hoping that that is a gift you will one day treasure.

I love you. I've always loved you, from the moment of your conception. And I hope that you know down to the marrow of your core, that I will ALWAYS love you more than you can imagine. I love you to the moon and back and then some.

Happy tenth birthday, sweet boy. Now, go eat your cake with blue frosting so you can poop blue and laugh about it.


Monday, March 19, 2012

On The Outs

I am on the outs with my kids. It seems that I am not wanted when it's bedtime thankyouverymuch. J and I alternate putting the two younger boys to bed. And for the past couple of months when it's my turn,  nine out of ten times they start to cry and reach out to Dad.

It would make any mom pause and wonder if her kids hate her and start to question what she did to make her kids despise her presence so much that they would actually burst into tears crying for Daddy the moment she says "Bedtime!" on a consistent basis.

Fortunately, I've gone through this before with each kid and I'm aware that it's not something I've done. It's actually quite a natural occurance with kids and parents. Each child goes through a phase of showing more love and affection to one parent, then the next, bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball at an Olympics table tennis match. It's nothing to do with one or the other being a better parent. It just *is*.

So if you're a new parent and this is happening

You don't suck as a parent and you have my permission to smack your partner upside the head if s/he dares to taunt you by saying the kids show good taste by choosing them over you. In fact, I give you permission to smack them twice. Tell them the second smack is from me.

That being said, when (notice I did not say if) this happens to you, you have two options on how to deal with being the one on the outs. You can
  • take it personally and feel hurt that you are not the stars in your child's eye for the time being, and wallow in a bout of self pity. This leads to the eating of many pints of ice cream, watching sad movies that deal with families being ripped apart, which leads to the purchasing of many boxes of tissues, a larger size pair of pants, and a new psychologist named Fran who never smiles and stares at you like you're a freak.

  • Quietly snicker under your breath as your parental unit partner herds the cats kids upstairs for teeth brushing, PJ's, referreeing on whose turn it is to pick a book, and multiple trips up the stairs telling them to "STOP SOUNDING LIKE A HERD OF ELEPHANTS AND GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I COME UP THERE AND DUCT TAPE YOU TO THE BEDS". And while said partner does this, you can happily get yourself a serving of your preferred alcoholic beverage, and start celebrating the fact you survived another day with children by diving into that book you've been meaning to devour. Or maybe watch some tv shows you wanted to catch up on but were not child appropriate. The night is yours and the choices are limitless!

I chose option two, myself. There *are* good possibilities with option one (helloooo ice cream!) but looking at each path, I don't think Fran and I would get along.

I admit, sometimes it hurts when you want to be the one to tuck them in and give your kids a goodnight kiss and they run away screaming for Dad. Even when you know you're a kick ass parental unit, you still stop and cringe for a moment. But I also know that there are times when only Mom will do too, and nothing Dad does is enough. It balances out. I also know that the main reason I'm on the outs right now is because J is willing to read Zelda graphic novels to the kids and I've been putting my foot down. It's written right to left and it messes my brain up. Give me "David Gets In Trouble" or "Click Clack Moo".

So, don't let it get you down. Give yourself a moment to cringe, then mentally remind yourself how you now have first dibs on the alcohol and can be in control of the tv remote. And ENJOY it! Trust me, it will be your turn again soon.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Holy Crap!!! Did You Know....

Recently I've been noticing a trend each time the family goes out somewhere. Most of the time it happens when we're out to dinner, but I also notice it quite often in virtually any type of store we venture into. I don't know why I'm noticing it more. I know it's happened in the past. But it seems that this occurrence seems to have stepped up in frequency. Maybe it's because the kids are older? I just don't know! But it seems that random strangers are on a mission to ensure that I am told something I may not realize......

I have three boys!

Holy shit, really???? I had no freaking clue! When the hell did this happen? Have I been drunk for the past seven years and totally not know this? Seriously folks, how did I miss the fact that I have not one, not two, but THREE boys???? Call the fucking press!!!!

Take tonight for instance. We went out as a family for dinner. Soren has now reached that age where going out to a sit down place is not only imaginable but feasible. J and I are stoked that we can finally forgo drive thru's for real, honest to goodness meat! So we head to the local tavern which offers amazing burgers. The boys so far, are really well behaved. Of course, we had just gotten out of the van. We hadn't even opened the restaurant's door when an older woman patted me on the shoulder. I turn around.

Old Lady: "Oh my dear, are those children all yours?"
Me, smiling: "Yes, they are."
Old Lady: "Goodness, you have all boys! Well, I know what YOU do every day!"

She pats me again on the shoulder and walks away, chuckling.

Later on, as we're sitting around waiting for our order, I'm engrossed in coloring the place mat with Soren when I feel another tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it's another older lady. I smile at her

Old Lady #2: "Dearie, you have three boys!!!"
Me: "Yes, yes I do."
Old Lady #2: Goodness, how do you do it?"

I stopped myself from offering the wonderful uses of duct tape and benadryl. With older ladies, you just never know how they would react. So I just smiled and shrugged. She mentioned the boys were angels and left.

Oddly enough, the same day I had a woman approach me in the grocery store when I had the two younger boys with me, and she said almost the same thing.

Now look. I am grateful and appreciate when people stop by and offer acknowledgement for the work it takes to raise children. But what is it with people having to point out the obvious? I almost want to say " you know, Ashe over there, was actually born a girl, but I was so distraught he didn't have a penis that I had him go through constructive surgery to add one on, along with a faux adam's apple. You can't tell though. The doctors did an amazing job!" JUST to see what the response would be.

Yes people, I have three boys. Three children with the XY chromosome. Three children with penises. Three children who rough and tumble, love the words poops, butt, pee pee, etc. Three children who try to outdo one another if someone either burps or farts. There is NO WAY I could not see this fact. It's pretty obvious, both out in public, and in the private of my own home when one or two of them wander around sans pants.

But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Soren Learns New Words

We have reached THAT stage in our house with Soren: the one where he knows his body parts, can say them, and certain ones he loves to say often and loudly. We've reached the crisis point too, because unlike the other boys, he has two older brothers who find this new found language hysterical, and Soren will do ANYTHING to make his brothers laugh.

It's great to see your little ones start to recognize body parts along with their own sense of self. But I swear I am going to bash my head on a wall if I see Soren saunter out of the bathroom one more time bare assed, grabbing his penis and loudly saying "MOM! PEE PEE! YEAH PEE PEE!!"

It's a hard balancing act, to try and not make your child feel that any of their body parts are taboo, while also explaining that grabbing ones crotch and calling it out so anyone in a three mile radius can clearly hear them is not a good idea. And it becomes harder when you have a 5 yr old and 9 yr old, who love potty humor, are sitting their laughing so hard they have tears streaming down their faces at each loud declaration of penis happiness.

And even I have to admit, the voice Soren uses when he does this is freaking adorable. He uses this bay like high pitched sound that makes the word pee pee sound really cute. I wish I could record it and post it here. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT!

The point is, I am up to my ears in pee pee talk. I both love it and hate it for their own reasons. And I get through this knowing that it won't last, Soren is learning new words, and I will use this to embarrass the crap out of him when he brings home his future girl friends.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Liebster Blog Awards

Irish from Dedicated to Life was kind enough to pass on to me the Leibster award. Thank you so much, Irish! If you haven't been to her blog, you should definitely check it out!

In accepting the award, the recipient:
  • 1. Thanks the grantor and links back to their blog.
  • 2. Identifies and publishes 5 new winners.
  • 3. Notifies winner’s via a comment on their blogs, and
  • 4. Posts the Liebster on their blog (while doing the Grateful Happy Dance)

So here are my five choices for the Liebster Award (in no order and you should definitely go check them out!)

Buried With Children
I've been following Jen's blog for awhile and I always get a gigantic grin on my face when I see she has a new blog up. This woman GETS IT! She is smart, sassy, funny as hell, and she can write an amazing blog about anything. Buried With Children is one of my all time favorite blogs, and Jen just rocks.

Becoming SuperMommy
I recently stumbled across this blog and after reading one post, I was hooked. Becoming SuperMommy is a great read, with a lot of humor. Go check it out!

The Big Fat Gini Blog
My good friend Sabra, who is also one of my biggest fans (love you!) told me that I had to check out her other friends blog. So I did. And I haven't stopped laughing. The Big Fat Gini Blog is completely real, with no sprinkles or glitter to shiny it up. Gini is as sarcastic as they come and I love her for it.

I'm Living Proof That God Has A Sense of Humor
I've been following Helene for along time, and I adore her blogs. Her kids and my kids could be clones of one another. She's another amazing mom who has a great sense of humor and I always look forward to a new post. I usually make sure I'm not drinking anything when I read though. I've been known to choke on coffee when I start laughing ather kids antics

The Pursuit of Normal
This is another new blog I've added to my list recently. A friend of mine hooked us up on Facebook when I started promoting my blog. When I went to check it out I knew I found another blog goldmine. Vicky has got a fantastic sense of humor and nothing, I mean NOTHING, is sacred. She recently wrote this blog about mice in her pantry and I almost died laughing. I giggled over it for days after. Fine, I'm still giggling about it.

Look, do yourself a favor and go check these fine femme bloggers out. Tell them I sent you and you demand to be entertained! You won't be disappointed, I promise ;)


Monday, March 12, 2012

Myrtle Beach 2012: Day 2 & 3

Why is it that whenever I am away from home my sleep takes a major nosedive? I'm supposed to be resting and yet I NEVER get a good nights sleep in a hotel, no matter how pricey they may be. I think during vacation I got a total of five hours sleep. Part of it was from dealing with kids waking up in the middle of the night, unused to a new environment, The other part is that if it's not my bed and my pillows, my body refuses to give in to unconsciousness. It's the one part of vacations I hate. I keep thinking it will change *this* time, but no such luck.

Aside from being exhausted, Day two was great. We woke up, ambled downstairs for free breakfast by the beach, then headed to one of the many indoor pools. It was too chilly to use the outdoor lazy river the boys were dying for. Xavier tried to get permission to go in the frigid river, even saying the 40 degree water wasn't THAT bad. Instead, I hauled the floaties into the heated warmth of inside and let the boys play on those in the pool.

After two hours of swimming and looking like prunes, we headed over to the beach, where Soren learned how much fun it is to chase seagulls. Poor kid didn't stand a chance, but that didn't stop him from trying for a good hour.

We grabbed Chinese delivery for lunch, chilled a bit, then headed out to the reason we came here in the first place: MagiQuest.

If you're a gamer, it's a pretty easy concept to understand. You game in real life, with quests and stuff. For you non gamers, I'll break it down a bit with an explanation.

At Magiquest, you become a character in an adventure. You choose what you want to be (sexy warrior? Trixter a la Puck? Want to be a magician? Name it). You create your own wand that works via lasers on tons of things both inside and outside. You want to open a door? Just point your wand at it and voila. Want to open a chest of gold? Use your wand. The only thing the wands didn't work on was flushing toilets in the restrooms.  After you have your wand, you are transported to a huge room and you are given a bunch of quests you choose from. And then you and your wand are off. Think of it as multiple scavenger hunts in a fantasy world.

The boys rocked it.

We had 90 minutes to complete as many quests as we wanted. Xavier tore off like a bat out of hell to solo quest. Ashe and I teamed up to quest together. Soren (and J) took off farming. For non gamers, this means they didn't quest, but looked for chests of gold. Every time Soren found a chest he'd wand it to death, then sing the Zelda song and pretend to open the chest with his hands. J and I laughed our asses off. I snagged a video.

Day 3, after (again) no sleep, we hit breakfast and the pool for a good while, until iut was time to pack up and leave the hotel. Boo. None of us wanted to leave. We loved our little penthouse suite with the amazing ocean vista. But unless we wanted to eat PB&J sandwiches for the next month, we were out the door.

Before heading home we stopped at Ripley's Aquarium. I'll be blunt. Don't waste your cash. It wasn't worth it Maybe I'm now spoiled after Atlantas aquarium trip last year, but I just couldn't get shelling out that much cash for such a tiny place. We went through the aquarium S.L.O.W.L.Y. and it still only took us 45 minutes.

Before heading out on the road, we decided to grab some lunch. We stopped at the Hard Rock Cafe, which looks like a pyramid. The boys loved it, as did I.

After a rocking good meal, we jumped in the van for a three plus hour drive. The boys passed out within the hour (THANK YOU!!!) so J and I had time to relax, watch the scenery, and not listen to "Are we there yet?". A huge bonus when you have three kids.
It's good to be home. It's nice to have my own bed again (YAY!!!) Still, the boys are clamoring for MagiQuest again, and J and I already miss the pull of the ocean. We're going to try and get more beach time in this year.

I had time today to take our photos and put them into a video scrap book. Check it out!

Boys and Bandaids

I realized I made a mistake long ago and never bought stock options for band aid makers. I could have made a fortune if this past week was any indicator.

This past weekend Soren was eaten by the end table monster. I don't know how. I assume that children are made of 1/3 Play-Dough, and can contort their bodies into various ways we adults can only imagine. Our end table is fairly solid, and looks like a mindless piece of furniture. But when you combine a two year old and an inanimate piece of furniture I can assure you that anything goes.

Consider the extreme sport of couch jumping. This is a household favorite, and many of the boys friends eagerly await an invitation to our home so that they too can join in. The only reason couch jumping is allowed in my house is because my floors are covered with soft "almost white" carpets, and it gives me a good reason to reinforce the fact that *I* am NOT a playground.

Or toy box hopping. In case you're unfamiliar with this sport I'll give a brief explanation. This is when your child dumps out all of the toys in the toy box, contorts his tiny body into shapes never taught in geometry to allow himself to get in, and then proceeds to "hop" the toy box from one end of the room to the other.

So I am quite used to the weird happening in my house when you have small folk and objects in the house. Their ability to make the impossible possible is uncanny. Hence, I don't even question the end table incident. All I know is that one moment Soren was happily playing beside me, and the next his fingers were caught in the maw of the end table.

It took me two frantic minutes to rescue him from the end table monster, the whole time screaming for J for help and trying to calm Soren down so I could maneuver myself around to try and save him. I admit it was one of those scary moments. I could not figure out how he got his hands caught in the first place, and how to remove his fingers without further damaging them. I drank a lot that night.

I finally freed him and the poor boy had two gouges on his fingers. One wasn't too bad, but the one on his middle finger was deep. Fortunately it wasn't too deep to require stitches but I paid close attention to it for the following week. After rinsing his hand in cold water to reduce swelling, and cleaning it out, I gave him two band aids and a popsicle. He was content, but still shaken, and spent the rest of the day super glued to my side which I could totally relate to. I wanted him close by as well.

But the band aids! Oh. My. God. You have to understand I have a giant box of band aids from BJ's since I have three kids, all rough and tumble boys. But I think I went through at least 3/4 of the box this week alone. Not because they needed changing, but because Soren kept losing them! It was like every 5 minutes something would happen to make those damn things fall off. I tried everything, from adding more on, doubling up, even taping them. I came close to pulling out the superglue. No luck. And Soren flipped out if one fell off. On the bright side, he learned a new word: booboo. He would screech it day and night indignantly the moment a band aid fell off. In the end I started carrying a mini first aid kit in my pants pocket so I wouldn't have to make a trip to the band aid box every 15 minutes. I do believe that there is now a permanent trail depression in my "almost white" carpets from the couch to the kitchen where the band aids are kept.

Yesterday, when (another) one fell off, I finally put my foot down. The cuts look clean and are healing up nicely. I told him now his booboos needed clean air in order to heal the rest of the way. He gave me a sideways look but conceded to moms authority. I thought that was the end of it.

But now he's asking for band aids for his 427 stuffed animals.

Friday, March 9, 2012

Myrtle Beach 2012: Day 1

I’m sitting in my bed, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean with a full moon hovering above. I can’t even begin to describe the beauty of this scene.

Today we left for our mini vacation, just to get away and recharge. Of course, it’s my family and we could never have a vacation without a few bumps in the road.

J and I decided to try and take off for Myrtle Beach around 10:30 in the morning. That gives me enough time to sleep in a touch, pack for a family of five, and head out. Once I woke up and showered, I started flinging clothes out of closets, desperately seeking the boys swim trunks. After finding them and setting aside clothing for two days for five people, I jammed them and our toiletries, plus gadgets, toys, snacks to feed a hungry elephant, and other odd assortments into five bags. One of these days I have GOT to invest in a wheeling suitcase.

We tucked the boys into the car, gave them each a vacation gift (a tradition in our household to keep them quiet for long car rides). Ashe got the puppet Baby Van Goat, Soren a new angry bird (hence now known as Awwww), and Xavier the Minecraft mining pick.

 We jumped, in, turned the car on when I shouted “WAIT! I forgot to pack Dads swimsuit!” Car off, J runs in and jumps back in the car with trunks in hand. We take off. J drives around the neighborhood then turns back. He forgot to lock the door. He locks said door and we’re off!

About ten minutes on the highways I smack my head against the window. I forgot my swim suit. We turn around.

Finally, only a half hour off course, we’re ready, we have swim suits, we have locked doors, and we’re on the road.

The boys did fantastic in the car. We only listened to “Are we there yet?”  for about 2 of the four hours, which is indeed, a record.

Arriving at our hotel, we enter our beautiful penthouse suite, with two bedrooms, a living room and kitchenette, not to mention two private balconies overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. We ooh and ahh while the kids run around and I start shadowing Sorens every move since we’re on the fourteenth floor and I keep having visions of him jumping off the balcony.

view from one of our balconies

We had time to kill before dinner, and even though it was cool and sprinkling out, we decided to hit the beach anyways and walk around. Of course with boys, walking and beach means total wet chaos. Within five minutes all the boys and myself were soaked running away from rolling waves in 50 degree water. We found a huge dead jellyfish washed up on shore. I think I was the most fascinated and took lots of photos.
Dead Jelly Fish!

 I’ve been tweeting a bunch of photos throughout the day of our trip, but when we get home I’ll upload and blog them for our mutual entertainment.  Ashe was desperate to be swept out to sea, or so it seemed, as he kept trying to go in deeper when he thought we weren’t looking. I may have to tie a leash on him tomorrow morning.

Nearing dinner time we went upstairs to change. The hotel has a dryer out in the hallway and I wanted to dry the boy’s shoes there, but J was uncomfortable with the idea. He said it was too loud for our neighbors and we didn’t want to piss them off right on the start, we had plenty of time for that. So the boys and I headed out to Medieval Times in soaking wet shoes.

Medieval Times was right up our alley. Before dinner we browsed the souvenirs. Ashe bought a wooden battle axe and cleaved the floor multiple times. Poor floor didn’t stand a chance. Xavier bought a flashing sword that would give anyone seizures. I told him he can’t turn it on. Soren bought a dragon statue and roared at everyone who came near him. I am SO glad most people thought they were cute and not on drugs.

The show itself was decent. Aside from the King who sounded like a taxi driver from New York, the actors did well, the fights were fun, and my boys walked away deciding THIS was their future career. Except for Soren, who was bored unless he was waving his flag in everyone’s faces and had to take bathroom trips four times.

Towards the end of the show, Ashes neck started hurting. It hurt him a few nights ago but went away in the morning. I think it’s a strained muscle. We stopped at Walgreen's on the way home for Tylenol, milk and pacifiers (because we forgot those too). Unfortunately, the kids were over tired and wired and Ashe went into a bawling fit. It took us an hour to calm him down and get him to sleep. Yes, we used drugs to help.

It’s 10pm, the boys are passed out and finally J and I have time to sit, relax, enjoy the most beautiful site nature could present us with (aside from comatose children). Happy vacation to us! I can’t wait for tomorrow. Now excuse me while I go enjoy the quiet and finally listen to the waves rush in under a full moon.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Epic Adventure Inc!

A few weeks ago J and I were feeling antsy. We get this way once in awhile, where we feel that we need to break up routine and just go somewhere different to change up the pace. We have a bunch of trips planned this year, but they're either weddings or a trip back home to Massachusetts, and we needed a trip NOW.

Since Xavier is in year round school (have I told you how much I adore year round school?) he will have essentially the entire month of March off. And we decided to book a weekend trip away with the boys. We scoured the area around us to find something both fun and open in early spring. There weren't many places.

We could go to the Biltmore, but we did that a few years ago.

We thought about hitting Atlanta up for the new Legoland Discovery Center. That would have been a great choice, but it opens up in late March and will be crazy packed. Not something we want to put ourselves through on opening week.

After days of searching, J hit upon an idea that makes both of us giggle. Because for most families it might seem completely cheesy but for our family of gamers and lovers of all things epic fantasy adventure.... it was perfect. So tomorrow we're heading to Myrtle Beach to hit

Linky here!

Oh yeah, baby! Quests, magic, dragons, and adventure! What more could a geeky family ask for? The place is a huge maze of adventure, and each person is given a wand to battle ogres, trolls, dragons, and race through dungeons and castles.

On top of that we added extra geek factor and booked a dinner at Medeival Times, where we can eat like kings of old and watch jousting, sword fighting, etc. My inner geek is drooling at the thought. J and I have wanted to go here even BC but now we have three small geeks to join us.

We also snagged a penthouse suite overlooking the ocean while we visit, and if the weather stays clear we can roam the beach.

When we told the boys they freaked out. Soren is already practicing his wand attacks, Ashe is determined to bring his Link hat, and Xavier is hoping they have swords instead of wands so he can do true battle. I may have to watch him more than the other two. All in all, the fam is psyched.

I'm sure I'll have plenty of blog fodder from this adventure, and if I have the energy, I'll try to blog while we're away. Wish us luck on the 4+ hour drive!

Monday, March 5, 2012

You Know You're A Parent If....

  • You keep extra underoos in your vehicles cup holder without batting an eye
  •  You throw laundry in the washer and a pair of googly eyes fall in
  •  You giggle when you hear the word European
  •   You keep a stock of Boogies Wipes within hands reach and you DON’T giggle at the name
  •  You think a Nutella sandwich, juice box, and a banana is a perfectly acceptable lunch    
  • You are willing to fix a Burger King crown in the middle of the night, just to stop the crying so you can haul ass back to bed
  •  Your car CD player has They Might Be Giants ABC on repeat and not Guns N Roses
  •  You actually wonder if Toy Story 3 might be too scary
  •  Your idea of heaven is to sleep the whole night through, in your own bed, and wake up naturally
  •  Your bed has turned into a trampoline
  • You put serious thought into creating a sign to wear that says “I AM NOT A FREAKING JUNGLE GYM”
  •  Lego’s are your nemesis and it is your burning ambition to destroy each colorful block you come across
  •  Instead of that new car smell, your vehicle smells like old milk, no matter how much you clean it
  •  The thought of wiping shit off someone elses ass doesn’t make you start gagging
  •  You start looking at duct tape in a new light
  •  You have more plastic cups than glass cups. In fact, you may not even remember the last time you had a bowl that doesn’t have a suction cup on the bottom
  •  You kick ass at candy land
  • All board games you own, no matter how new, are missing at least 5 pieces
  •  Your vacation destination is to meet a giant mouse instead of that beach on Tahiti
  •  You know what Monster Spray is and how to use it    
  • You think Mr. Clean and his magic erasers are the best invention since sliced bread.
  •  You have stock in Johnson & Johnson company. Or you should considering how many products of theirs you use on a daily basis
  •  Your BS detection skills have soared, and you can spot a BSer within twenty paces
  • You hit scan on your car radio and claim to have magical powers , turning the stations without touching the dial
  •  You’ve thought about putting googly eyes on the back of your head to scare little people into thinking you really DO have eyes there
  • Silence is NOT a good sign!
  •  You have stock in coffee and alcohol   
  • You have had wine out of a sippy cup and thought nothing of it   
  • Despite the fact you don’t own a single item of clothing without stains, you’re tired all the time, and your house will always look like a tornado went through no matter how often you try to keep it clean, you wouldn’t have it any other way
Add your own!

Friday, March 2, 2012

Puzzles Suck

I can read a book in a day. I can blog. I can even prevent World War 7 from starting in my house on a daily basis. What I can't do are puzzles.

The boys love puzzles. They could sit there for an hour, put one together, pull it apart, and repeat. They can even do this together without tantrums most of the time. This puzzle love has to come from their father's side of the gene pool. J also loves puzzles. I never got the amusement factor.

But while I am very happy that my kids enjoy something that helps their little brains figure out logic and all that crap, what I don't appreciate is when they pull out all of their puzzles at once, and leave them unfinished. Because that means if I want to pretend I have a clean house, I have to put the puzzles together again.

I really hate puzzles. I even hate the preschool puzzles where it's really obvious where each piece should go. Because sometimes I still get it wrong. And nothing  makes me feel dumber than screwing up a freaking preschool puzzle. I can cut my children's hair without them screaming and bleeding all over the kitchen linoleum. Ad their hair looks pretty damn good. I can wrangle three kids into the car and keep them happily quiet for long periods of time. I can do a lot of cool things that are difficult. But no matter how smart I am in some areas, when I have to do a puzzle I feel like the dumb kid in a classroom filled with mini geniuses.

What's one thing you can't do well?

Thursday, March 1, 2012

No, I'm Not June Cleaver ;)

The other week I was contacted by Triangle Mom2Mom, the News & Obvserver's informational area for moms, about doing an interview about my blog. It's up today and I wanted to share it. You can click here for the interview. I had a lot of fun doing this and I'm so honored to have been approached with this idea.

So go check it out and share it with your friends, unless they are like June Cleaver ;)