All hype with no Delivery

Yesterday we had a new roof put on our house. You remember Ike, way back when? Well, he made his way all the way up here to Ohio and brought some wicked winds with him. A large portion of our shingles were lifted during those winds.
A few months ago we got more wicked winds and lost a lot of shingles.
Hence, the need for the new roof.
I picked up the little guy from school and spent the whole ride home getting him pumped up about watching the roofers all day.
Big trucks and ladders and hammers, oh my! He is a huge fan of these things. I am forced to be Handy Manny on a daily basis.
We pulled up to the house and sure enough there was a big truck and lots of men with tools. Yay.
I have never been in a house while a new roof was being put on, so it came as quite a surprise when one of the first things the workers did was place giant plywood boards over all of the windows.
As the little guy and I stood watching the men with tools we were quickly quarantined from the outside world. Blacked-out.
The little guy looked at me and said, "Is dat awe? Dust duh wub?"
Poor kid, I had him so pumped and then that was all. Just the wood.
We did stand outside for awhile once they stopped chucking things off the roof and we watched. I hope that made up for his disappointment.

He still Really likes that

My baby turned 9 years old over the weekend. Too big. Too soon.
He had a camp out this weekend with Cub Scouts and came home tired. He fell asleep on the couch with, of course, his hand in his pants.
It reminded me of this story.
When he was just a baby he was at one of his 'well-check' appointments and the doctor was giving him the once over.
I was rambling about whatever, as I do when I am nervous, or forced into a small space with another person.
Dr. Dickey (real name) was checking the boys privates and I happened to say, "He really likes the bath."
What Dr. Dickey heard was, "He really likes That."
He launched into this speech about how boys will be boys. Once they find their penis they don't ever want to let go. I should just be prepared for a life of grape-groping.
Huh? What? It took me a minute to figure out the miscommunication. By that time he had rambled so long about my son fondling himself for years to come, it would have been more embarrassing to correct him.
I just went with it. Listened as the good doctor told me it was normal for my son to play with himself. Super.
I went home and told my husband that our son's permanent medical record was now flagged with a big red "PERVERT" stamp.
Happy birthday my sweet boy. May you have many happy years ahead of you.

My big Night-out: The Update

Maybe you remember, I had a girls night out last weekend. I gots to say, it was fun.
There was food involved and beer and a man with a guitar. Three things that I really like.
The best part of the night was when the very white, very Dave Matthews and 80's rock ballad, channeling guitar player asked for requests and my friend who had clearly had a few more cocktails than myself belted out, "Fast Car."
He just stared at our table and then asked what part of him made her think of Tracey Chapman. He made an attempt at the requested song. It was funny. He drew the line at a request for Beyonce.
The group that I was out with is such a good group of friends. They are the friends that you can go a month without talking to and then pick up as if you haven't missed a day.
We have seen each other through the general horrors of middle school and high school, the divorce of parents, the ups and downs of college, addictions, the illness and then death of a parent, a middle of college this is so not the right time pregnancy,'almost marriages, marriages, affairs, divorces, second-marriages, new jobs, lost jobs, 18 child-births, too many miscarriages, and everything in between.
These are the women who I may not see everyday, but I will still be hanging with when I am 60.
I have been blessed. With a girls night out and the girls to enjoy it with.

What not to say to the person who is watching your child

This morning when I picked up the little boy that I babysit his mom said, "I am so happy to see you. I have not been able to handle him since I picked him up from you yesterday. He is just out of control."
Really? Super.
I can say I will return her sentiments when she picks him up this afternoon.

Passing the Love Around

It has taken me some time to respond to the fact that I got my first award, not because I am ungrateful, but because I had to secretly e-mail another recipient of the award who has admitted in her blogs to having computer skills similar to mine, and find out how to get the 'award' for my blog. Thank you Viv. As if you had nothing better to do between keeping up with your five kids and flooding toilets than to coach me through a simple process.
Big thanks to Jen for the recognition and the kind words. I am so glad that you find me funny. I sometimes think I only humor myself.
I love Jen's blog. She is hilarious and can make me laugh when I need it the most. She is a talented writer and I look forward to reading whatever she has to write for years to come.
The rules of the award are as I understand them to list 7 things that I love and then to pass the award to 7 bloggers that I love. Consider it done.
* I love the beach. I love the ocean and the sand. It makes me feel good. Love it.
* I love a clean house. Again it makes me feel really good. I feel in control of life when my house is clean.
* Chocolate. It is my favorite.
* Quiet. When my kids are in bed or I have talked some poor soul into taking them all somewhere and my house is quiet, I love it. I can think a whole thought without interruption and it is bliss.
*Summer. I am a warm weather girl living in Ohio. I relish the summer months.
*Fall. Just the beauty of it. Also, after Summer I am so looking forward to the kids going back to school.
*A good book. I love to read.
Now for the bloggers that I enjoy. Some of them may not know that I am out here reading their stuff. Regardless, I will pass the love.
I enjoy reading what is going on with Jill. I am a little jealous of the fact she lives in California and I no longer do. However, she always has a good story to share and I enjoying seeing her pictures of warm weather and pools.
Then there is a fine lady over at all this trouble. She cracks me up. I relate to some of her stories and she makes me smile. Also, I love groovin' to her playlist.
I found Maeves Mom through Jen. She is a great writer and always has something fun to share.
Heather, recently wrote a touching story about a big life decision that snuck up on her quickly. I totally related. Great blog.
I just recently started reading Chicken and Cheese, which I found through Jen as well. She has some great things to share and has a way of putting things into a perspective that I can appreciate.
Kim posts great photos and I love to head over to her blog to see what she has been up to lately.
One of the funnier blogs I read is America's Next Top Mommy. She can make me laugh and cry. Sometimes all at once.
The passing of the love is complete. I am so happy about my first award. I hang it with pride.

Girls Night

Tonight I am going out with my lady friends. Yay. You can't see me, but I am totally doing the happy dance.
I feel like I did back when I was in middle school and my parents would drop my friends and I at the movies. I am wondering what to wear and who we might see.
It is actually the same group of girls that I would go to the movies with back in the day. Only now we can drive ourselves.
I also won't call the girls to see what they are going to wear. I will go with the stand by of my 'nice' jeans and shirt.
I wonder if I could get my Mom to drop my off anyway. Then I could partake in more than one cocktail. Seriously, after more than one I am so not safe to be on the road.
I think I will bum a ride from one of my friends. You can only drive so many mini-vans to a night-out on the town, before it just starts to feel like a PTA meeting.
Cheers!

Random thoughts of the day

I can get my two younger kids to do almost anything if I offer to race them.
It irritates Caleb that I let them win.
He is almost 9 years old and getting way too cool for our silly races. When the races occur in public it is serious cause for a lot of eye-rolling and head shaking on his part.
He only likes to race if I promise to really try. Little does he know, I am really trying.
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I noticed that Miles gets away with saying things to me that the other kiddos would not get away with.
It is hard to tell someone that uses so few words that anything that comes out of their mouth is inappropriate.
Today he wanted me to start playstation for him. He said, "Come on now. Lazy bones. I wanted it now."
He's pushin' it.
We do work on appropriate language with him. I promise. It's just to know how far he has come over the last few years is amazing. Sentences like that would have been unheard of. He would have just cried until I figured it out by process of elimination.
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We had the carpets cleaned today. The only thing that would be better is if we had hardwood floors installed. I know that is way, way, way down the list of things that will eventually get done, so I am really happy about the cleaning.
The red marker spot left by the marker eating pup is now a hardly noticeable pink spot.
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It is science fair time. Caleb chose the topic 'What is the best way to keep ice frozen?'. I felt this had been covered with the invention of the freezer, but he disagrees. If we find a better way I will be sure and pass it along.

YAZ I can feel better

I had serious doubts that my moods could be made better by a medication called 'YAZ'. When my doctor prescribed what is nothing more than a birth control pill, with some extra supped-up hormones, I felt that maybe she was just humoring me.
I wish there was an easier way to explain to your doctor that you feel like maybe you could be on the verge of snapping. It seems like I walk the line of telling her enough to explain how ridiculously crazy I feel without seeming well, crazy.
Anyway, I am happy to share that the 'YAZ' is helping, regardless of it's goofy-ass name. At the very least, I must admit that I have had fewer fantasies about giving my kids the smack-down lately.
Caleb even commented that I have been in a better mood.
There have been some 'side-effects' that I could live without, but when weighed against the idea of going back to feeling like I was before, I guess I can deal.

Low-brow Comedy

Sometimes life calls for low-brow comedy.
I discovered one of Stella's 'bath-time' babies next to the toilet. Clearly, it had not been explained to this baby doll that any area even relatively close to the toilet puts you in the line of fire. Hiding under or behind the toilet does nothing to ensure your safety from being sprayed by misguided streams of urine.
The baby learned her lesson the hard way. She had a very urine soaked head. It was dripping down her painted face and pooling around her neck. It appeared to even possibly be an intentional direct hit. To make matters worse she also appeared to have developed some black mold inside her water logged legs.
I made the solid decision to throw her out. End her time with us. I did not have the resolve it was going to require to wash the urine from her lovely crimped hair. Black mold frightens me. Away she went.
Of course, I forgot to bury her deep enough in the trash can and Stella found her.
I heard her shriek from the bathroom, "Mom, someone put my baby in the trash."
She was pulling the baby out of the trash can big tears starting to flow down her cheeks. The horror that someone would think to stick her baby in the trash!
Through her tears I explained what had happened to the baby. How she had been left in a less than sanitary spot. That being anywhere within a several foot radius of the boys most frequented toilet.
The tears didn't slow.
In a desperate move, I went for the low-brow comedy routine.
"Aw, don't cry for baby pee pee head, she is going to a better place where no one will pee on her ever again."
Stella laughed, "Baby pee pee head?"
"That's her new name."
We laughed. We talked more potty talk. We discussed the grossness of boys. We threw out baby pee pee head without anymore tears.

Just Ring if You Need Anything

The brown and white pup was having trouble with the whole house-breaking thing. We had heard about training dogs with bells that you hang on the door that you typically send your dog out to do their business. The idea being that you walk the dog to the door. Ring the bells. Open the door. Take the dog out to 'go' and then reward the dog. Very Pavlov. The dog will eventually be conditioned to ring the bells and expect the door to open so he can go do his thing in the great outdoors, rather than the rug.
It totally worked. Within a few days the pup was ringing his bell to go out and no more accidents on the rug.
Here's the catch. The pup is now taking advantage of the bells. A few weeks ago, I was upstairs trying to get into the shower before the kids got up.
I hear the bells, grab a towel and go running downstairs. The pup is sitting by his food bowl. He wanted to be fed. Now.
In the mornings when Caleb is downstairs trying to eat breakfast the pup is relentless in his ringing. When I yell down to tell Caleb to let the pup out, he informs me that the pup wants to play.
He rings and when Caleb stands to let him out he runs and gets his ball. He wants to play fetch. Now.
The past few days he has been ringing like a crazy dog. Whether I am doing laundry, showering or let's be honest, reading blogs, I am constantly interrupted by the bell ringing of a very impatient pup.
I watched him last night after he 'rang' to get out for the billionth time. Caleb made one of those pine cones smeared with peanut butter and then rolled in bird seed, bird feeders. The pup can smell the peanut butter and is trying to figure out how to gets his paws on it. Hence, the need for the billion trips outside.
Now, you might be thinking I should just ignore him. Hells no. That is when he leaves me a big stinky present by the backdoor, and looks at me with a roll of his eyes and a shoulder shrug and says, "I rang, where the hell were you?"
I am afraid that I will be answering to the call of his bell for years to come, unless I can figure out how to install a doggy door.


I think the pup was worn out after all of his bell ringing. If he wasn't so good with the kids, I might be tempted to leave him curbside.

More Thoughts From The Beast

The Beast came to me while I was cooking dinner yesterday and started in on a conversation that we have had multiple times. Only this time she had props to prove her point that I was unaware of until she whipped them out. Here is how it played out.
Me: Cooking dinner and yelling out the window for Caleb and half of the neighborhood kids to STOP filling the sandbox with water and yelling that no it is not okay to douse the pup with water even if he seems to enjoy it. WTF. Where do all of these kids come from? Wondering where the hell the hubby disappeared to?
Beast: Mom. What color am I?
Me: I don't know Beast. White I guess.
Beast: now holding a white crayon against her skin. I am NOT white.
Me: she has me here. While we are a truly pasty bunch we are not crayon white. Ummmm...
Beast: I want to be brown. Like Camryn. now the brown crayon is out
Me: Beast, we can't change the color of our skin. God made us this way and this is the way we will always look. unfortunately for The Beast I own stock in sun-screen and use it liberally.
Beast: Does God knowed I want to be brown?
Me: I am sure he does.
Beast: Does God knowed that I don't have a crayon that is my color? What color am I?
Me: stop cooking and go grab the crayon box. Find the apricot crayon. Give the crayon to The Beast. Here. You're officially apricot.
Beast: I can't wait to tell Camryn.

Roy G. Biv

Miles loves rainbows. When we are out and about he goes through this thing where first we have to find something red, then orange, then yellow and so on until we go through the whole Roy G. Biv.
Winter makes this even more of a challenge. There is no gray in Roy G. Biv.


Miles decorated his fingers and toes with "Rainbows". He was very proud of himself

He did not want to wear socks or shoes all day. Couldn't hide the rainbows. Thank goodness we didn't have anywhere to go!

We think he will eventually grow into those front teeth! He is so cute. I love that boy!

The Romance Might be Fading.

I love my husband. A lot. I really, really do. Sometimes though he says things that make me think the romance might be fading.
He came downstairs last night and said, "Did you see that I made Miles' bed? Do you want to hump?"
Even less now than about 10 seconds ago.
I don't know if I was more offended by the 'hump' word or that is has become so apparent that I am willing to trade sexual favors for household chores?
Regardless, a gal needs a little foreplay. Maybe if he had done the dishes then made the bed....

Feel that breeze?

I can open my windows today and that makes me just so stinkin' happy. I cracked the kitchen window at 6:30am, just because I could. It was chilly, but it wasn't freezing.
By this time of the year I feel trapped in my own home. Made prisoner by cold wet weather and end of winter colds and coughs.
We needed to get out. Even just to the backyard.
Miles and Stella are outside jumping on the trampoline and romping on the play set. The brown and white pup is happy to have friends to play outside with him.
Everyone is in a better mood today than they have been all week.
Poor Myrtle, the kitty, is the only one not allowed outside. Stella freaks out when I mention it. She is so afraid that she won't come back or that she will get lost. I am thinking about trying her on a kitty leash.
The hubby says to count him out of any walks that involve our crazy kitty on a leash. We will have to see how it goes.

What Expiration Date?

Today, I was going to write about my MIL and her unwillingness to accept expiration dates. I love my MIL. She is great and would do anything for myself or the kids.
I worry that some day she will come across this blog and her feelings would be hurt if she read what I was going to write.
So, I will just say that she does not believe in expiration dates. For anything. Milk, meat, cheese. If it has been frozen, it is good. I recently saw some chicken from 1994 in her freezer. 15 year old chicken. Yummy.
Recently, she discovered the little green bags. As seen on t.v.. Bananas last indefinitely. You know the ones.
She bought me some and I tried them out. The strawberries did last longer, but they got strangely hard.
In my mind I pictured some weird space-aged chemical seeping from the bags into my strawberries keeping them from aging. Years from now I would notice that the children were not aging, due to the high amounts of the anti-aging chemicals they had ingested by eating 'fresh' fruit.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't keep my berries from aging. I had to let them go naturally.
I am afraid my MIL is going to buy these bags in bulk. I am afraid we are going to go over one day and everything in the fridge and pantry will be 'green-bagged'. I bet she could get one more year out of her 2001 mayo if it's in the green bag.

Is it Summer Yet?

So far, March has not played very nicely. It has been January cold. Not cool. I am ready for warm weather, so I am posting pictures of fun summer things we do.


We jump on the trampoline a lot. So far only one neighborhood kid has broken an ankle. Yes, that is the kids school in the background. We don't like a long commute.


We have semi-naked jam sessions. The Beast is on the Sax. Caleb on the violin and Dad was on the guitar.


Miles won an award for best decorations. His helmet was awesome.


Stella, being very Green, had the float theme 'Support the Farmers. Buy Locally' She strapped a piggy on the back of her trike. It was great.


The local fire station sent out a fire truck to lead our neighborhood parade. The kids loved it! Our neighborhood ROCKS, in case you are in the market for a move.

Home Today

I kept Miles home from school today. It wasn't because of the bully. At least that is what I keep telling myself. Maybe it has a little to do with the bully. I just wanted to keep him home today and give him lots of hugs.
He also still has a bad case of the crap. Crappy cough, green crap coming out of his nose, crap stuck in his eyes. You get the idea.
I am sure he could have gone to school today. But, I am his Mom and so I get to decide that he just needs to be home with me today. Maybe I needed to be with him some too.
I am 'that mom'. The mom that has trouble some mornings waking up the kids, who are sleeping so warm and snug in their beds. Sometimes the thought of waking them and sending them out in the cold gets the better of me and I just let them sleep.
Then they wake up and I say, "Oh shit, what have I done!"
I rush to get them ready for school. Stuffing them into their coats and mittens, all of the 'warm and snug' thoughts gone, so I can have my few wonderful hours of peace and quiet.




Stella looking warm and snug. In this state, I am convinced that my children are lovely and quiet and listen to all of my Motherly suggestions. Then they wake-up.

Don't Make Me do Something I Might Regret!

I have a high tolerance for lots of things. I have my own kids to thank for that. One thing that I can't and won't tolerate, from my kids or anyone else is bullying.
Miles has been acting strangely during drop-off at school. I walk in the building with him, as I am taking Stella to Pre-k, but he goes one direction and we go the other.
This had always been fine. He was happy to go and even seemed embarrassed if I did happen to walk him to class so I could talk to his teacher.
Then a few weeks ago he started covering his eyes as soon as we were in the building and saying that he was scared.
I would reassure him and send him on his way. I checked with the teachers and they agreed that Miles was occasionally saying he was scared to them as well.
Today, I sent him down his hall, but made sure I watched him all the way. He has been sick and didn't really want to be at school today.
I could not believe it when some little girl and her gang of misfits, stepped out in front of Miles and intentionally blocked his way.
He keep his head down and his eyes covered, and when he would try to go left so would they. He tried around the other side and they blocked that path too.
You have got to be shitting me! The obvious leader (little Bitch) was clearly proud of herself and continued to step closer and closer until she was almost chest to chest with Miles.
Every ounce of me wanted to go down the hall and thump her ass.
Instead I said "Miles, say get the fuck outta my way before my Mom comes down here and opens a can of whup-ass all over you Excuse me please."
The bully looked up at me when she realized I was standing just down the hall and moved her sorry ass out of Miles' way. I gave her the stink eye like only a Mother can and hopefully let her know that I will be watching her from now on.
Why are kids like that? How do they know which kids to pick on? Miles had a good 6 inches on her and yet he was clearly scared. I wish he would have looked her in the eyes and said, "move your punk ass out of my way you bully."
Next time, I might not be so nice. I might just open that can of whup-ass.