Oh yes, another smoking rant

Here's the thang, yo...I frickin smoke.

I know it's bad. I know that people die from cancer and heart problems and other crap that may or may not have been worsened by smoking. You probably know someone with some sort of anti-smoking story that you could tell me, but guess what? I don't want to hear it. I know someone, too. And anyone born after 1960 knows someone and can give me all the reasons cigarettes are bad for you.

One thing that isn't plastered all over cigarette boxes or coming out of the mouths of smoker-haters is the danger of living my life "smoke free".

WARNING: This is a rant and if you are reading this to be cheered up tonight, you may want to go here.

:::inhales deeply::: :::as in breathing, not smoking, get off my back:::
I don't need passive-aggressive comments about how I shouldn't smoke because it'll mean certain death (and won't I please think of my children?) because certain death is pretty much a certainty as far as I'm concerned and at this point in my life, smoking cigarettes is keeping me from driving over a cliff, which I may be wrong about but am quite sure is going to kill me faster than smoking and if you say anything else about it you are quite possibly putting both our lives at extreme risk or maybe just yours but then I'll go to jail and won't anyone think of the children????

Is this a little passive-aggressive? Absolutely. How do you fight passive-aggression, anyway, if not with it's own kind?

:::catches breath because that was a lot of things to say in a row for a smoker::: :::coughs::: :::lights a ciggy:::

Ahhh....thank you, I feel better.

PS: I have had the worst month of my life. Please don't give me advice, especially about quitting smoking. I'll quit. Just not right now. Thank you.

Bucket List

I haven't been around in awhile because I guess I took a little Christmas vacation that more like a Christmas nightmare of trying to get everything done while I was sick and the kids were sick and plans got blown out of the water every five minutes and frankly, I had nothing funny to say. At all.

I'm back, but still with nothing to say.

:::crickets:::

As great as Christmas was this year, I have made a holiday bucket list...holiday experiences I would like to have before I die.

1. Experience Thanksgiving as a man. Think about it...this has got to be the best day of the year for dudes. You don't have to go to work, you can sleep in, you sit on the couch and watch football until delicious food magically comes out of the kitchen, you eat it, you watch more football while the kitchen gets magically cleaned, then you eat some more, you nap, you watch some more football, then a week's worth of leftovers and and a three day weekend with the biggest games of the season playing the entire time.

This totally beats spending the entire week cooking, ruining dishes and making them over, experimenting and torturing yourself over new pies, making double of everything so you can taste it to make sure it's right without destroying the presentation, fighting with in laws over who is going to cook what, getting up in the wee hours of the morning to make sure that everything is done at the same time, then all that work being gobbled up in thirty minutes, and four hours of kitchen clean up afterward. Ladies, we are clearly doing something wrong.

2. Be a Yankee for a day. I'm not really "Southern", but I live in a state where southern manners prevail. You smile and say hi to people you don't know, you don't talk about uncomfortable issues, and you feed anything with a mouth that gets within ten feet of you. One more rule is to keep your darn mouth shut when someone makes you mad. And I would love....love...just one time, to say what's on my mind without thinking about it first. Just once. Or twice.

3. Spend one week at home. I look forward every year to Christmas break so that we can have some family time just relaxing out the house. It's never happened. Just for the record, I'm busy the last two weeks of December 2011.

4. Hold the remote control. That is all.

Sappy Kid Blog

I cleaned today.

A lot.

Like, from the time I woke up until...well...I'm writing now, but only because I'm waiting on the dryer. Which just made a noise so I'm sort of avoiding it.

I'm achy and bitchy and I can't wait to take my kids to their grandma's house tomorrow so I can sit down.

But, now thinking about them being gone for the next few days makes me miss them. Since I have complained so much this week, here are some sweet things that make me happy to be a mommy...

Emma is learning how to spell. It's adorable. Everywhere I look, I see little signs she's made for me that say "I <3 U Mommy". They are on every wall, on my bedroom door, on the bathroom cabinets, on the posts surrounding the wood stove, on the computer monitor and her sheets. Awwww....

I have a huge marker board in the hall that I filled with a huge list of things to do before Christmas. When I went to check it this evening, Dalton had drawn a heart with two people inside labeled "mommy" and "Dalton". Double awwww because he's a boy.

Every evening at dinner, we take turns saying one thing we are thankful for and one nice thing about the person next to us. Tonight, Emma said "I like mommy because, when I was in her tummy, I loved her so much and I remember that and it's not any different now because I love her still." OMGSHE'SSOCUTE.

When we got in the car this evening, a Christmas CD was playing (one that I am ready to break in half if I have to hear it again, by the way), and all six of them, including Huston who hates to sing, belted out "Blue Christmas", which, if you've never heard six kids singing Elvis, you're missing an important life moment.

My sister came home yesterday for Christmas, and we stopped by to say hi to her and her husband and son, and as we pulled in the drive, Warrick said "Mommy, I have this weird feeling in my throat...I think I might cry tears of joy."

Warrick is my oldest at ten, and he has been giving me a least three hugs a day. And he's a boy. Hugging his mom. On purpose. I don't know why, but one doesn't question these things.

Huston told me that, even thought I dress like a nineteen year old boy, I'm still kinda' pretty.

Madilynn organized her bedroom today, and I realized again what a little mini-me she is...she hates cleaning, but she will organize the heck out of anything.

One of my mothers in law (yes, I have two) asked the kids why they cared if my sister's new baby would be a boy or a girl, since it would be too young to matter. They were highly offended by the thought that a cousin was "too young" and made declarations all around about how "cool" their other baby cousins are and even went so far as to point out the personality differences in the many babies in our family. I heart this mucho, yo.

At dinner tonight, I asked them about the true meaning of Christmas. Madi stood up in her chair and said "It's about Baby Jesus and nothing else!!!"

All of my kids miss their dad like crazy and are so excited that they actually get to go see him this week. That is one thing I love about them...their capacity for complete forgiveness and forgetfulness of the things that have gone wrong.

Another thing is how hard they try not to let me know how excited they are because they think it will hurt my feelings. They also plan out my time away from them so I won't miss them as much. Once, Dalton even went through my contacts in my phone to find someone for me to hang out with.

So, yes, I complain and I get grouchy and angry, but I love being a mommy, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Child Labor

I have realized something about myself this week and I am not proud of it.

I am not in the Christmas spirit. At all.

This is absolutely against article #2 of my personal creed..."all people must begin Christmas Spiriting the day after Thanksgiving and carry it through until the day before Halloween. You may drop the Christmas Spirit long enough to complain about the tackiness of Halloween, and to be grouchy while you cook a bunch of stuff for Thanksgiving, but then you must bring it back right away."

So, where are you Christmas???

I think I'm a little out of sorts because I hate that I still have Things To Do. I don't like having those, unless they are Things I Want To Do. I don't enjoy doing Things Other People Want To Do, or Things I HAVE To Do.

So, no more plans, yo. I'm done. I will attend the Christmas dinners at both my grandparents' houses. I will go to mass on Christmas morning (not midnight mass this year, because starting something at midnight with six young children is just asking for a drop in Spirit). I will host the Party Of Awesomeness on Christmas night. And that is all, my friend, that is all.

If I feel like baking, I'll bake something. If I feel like looking at more lights or going to more parties or making more crafts or anything else that people do during December, I will. But if I feel like sitting on the couch and reading while my kids slave away on housework, that's what's going down, yo.

Today, I felt like detailing Ninja Truck. I love detailing my car, it's relaxing and I get to look at it and go "Wow, this is gonna' be clean for ten whole minutes!" So I got the kids' junk out of the truck and made them put it away...which took twenty minutes. Then, I spent five hours doing the rest of the work while they played next door. When it was time to leave, they all came out to the truck with arms full of Stuff They Had To Bring. I told them no way, I spent five hours cleaning the truck and they are never allowed to put anything into it again ever.

We went to pick up my mother in law to look at lights and the kids shouted "Guess what, Mimi!? We cleaned the truck for five hours!!!!" At which she cracked up, but for the wrong reason. The right reason would have been the understanding that my children have never done anything for five hours straight except maybe whine. She was laughing because my truck doesn't look clean at all, because of the whole "when you buy a used vehicle, the first time you detail it is more like figuring out how much of the mess is permanent" phenomenon, and as it happens, my truck looks like BP had some oil lines running through it at some point, and didn't do such a great job on keeping them intact. Just sayin.

But, I had a nice relaxing day of cleaning and discovering that it doesn't really matter if I clean Ninja Truck or not, but I still like doing it. Tomorrow it's the house, which I don't enjoy at all, but I will enjoy looking at it with the satisfaction of knowing that it will be clean for an entire five seconds. :::happy sigh::: I can feel the Christmas Spirit returning....

I'm Beggin Ya

Dear Interwebz,
Please come get my children to sleep. I can't handle anymore.

I tell them to go to bed, and they just don't. I mean, they just don't. They act like I never said anything at all.

So I tell them louder, and also with some herding in the proper direction until everyone is in their room. But they don't lay down.

I tell them to lay down, so they do. And I tuck them in and turn off the lights and go sit down for the first damn time all day, but only for a second because then the parade starts. First it's "I need a drink" followed naturally by "I need to go potty". After that comes "Can I sleep on the couch? Or in your bed? Or anywhere but my own bed, please?"

For dramatic effect, when everyone starts getting super tired, they trot out their major emotional issues. It's usually the last one or two left awake and I've been trying for three hours to get them to sleep, and they will have been quiet for about ten minutes. I think the night is finally coming to an end until I hear footsteps and sniffles. A small being launches itself into my lap and cries "MOOOMMMMMMYYYYY!!!! Everybody hates meeeeeeee!" Or sometimes it's "I had a bad day at school, and I'm never going back again!" Or "I want my Daaaaaaddyyyyyy...call him call him call him call him call him call him call him call him..." And suddenly I'm crying too and asking "Why, why, why didn't you tell me this at dinner when I asked what was wrong with you?" And they're all "because I was fine at dinner!" And I'm all "Then you're fine now, GO TO BED!" And they get ten steps toward their room, but they turn around and ask some off the wall question like "But, Mommy? Was I adopted?" Or "Is there really a Santa?" And I have to tell them that there is a law that says mommies aren't allowed to answer any questions after midnight, so they will just have to ask me in the morning.

Three hours after I should be in bed, they finally fall asleep and I am too stressed out to sleep and it takes until three in the morning before I can stop the spinning in my head and pass out. And that's a good thing, because by four, at least two of the kids will be back up and trying to sneak into my bed with me, which I admit I have been more lenient about out of sheer sleepiness, but it's not really helping things because they steal the covers and also turn off my alarm clock before I hear it and then go back to sleep which is why we miss the bus every morning and pretty much why I wish the world didn't start until one in the afternoon.

So, please, Interwebz, can you fix my kids?

Execution

Ha!

I've waited since the end of summer and I've finally found a way to be rid of you.

I hate you, you know. The way you sneak into every minute of my life, the way you are always there everywhere I look in my own home, the way you evade my efforts to get rid of you for good. But I've got you now, my pretty.

You have become such a constant annoyance that there are days at a time when I don't even notice you, only to have your presence rain down on me with renewed force. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you.

For years, you have been there, waiting in the wings, wanting to take over my life, but I held you at bay, until a few months ago. You took advantage of what I was going through, and you snuck past the wall I had built against you.

Today, when I was working around the house not really thinking of you at all, you jumped at me from behind the sugar tin. As I spun around, you were everywhere...on the bulletin board, on the fridge, on every shelf in every room of my house, under the table, in my car, in my bed, stuck in the cushions of the couch....and it dawned on me -- I can be rid of you! Mwuahahahaha!!!!

So I swept you away. Every memory of you is banished from my house. You didn't think I could do it, did you? But I did, because there is one fatal flaw in your plan, my friend...you forgot one detail.

It's the end of the freaking semester. All paperwork starts over from here on out, and I no longer have use for anything with any school letterhead at the top. So get out of my life, schoolwork. For two entire weeks I will be blessedly free of you and your need to come home with every person in my house to find a new place to hide. We are done with you for 2010.

Good riddance.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Interwebz, I soooo sleepy.

If you come over and bring me coffee, I will both write and give you free Christmas goodies. Otherwise, I think I'll beat my kids to bed tonight.

If you see them running around, holler at them to get home and get into bed, please.

Christmas, Step 8

Homemade Gifts:

For a long time, I thought baked goods were the perfect Christmas gift. Nobody needs anything else to dust, I can't afford to give everyone cash or gift cards, and who doesn't love food? As I had more and more (and more) children, I decided that baking wasn't such a great idea. I love to bake, and do a lot of it in December, but only if I want to and only for my family. The thing about bakery items is that you want them fresh, which means making them very close to Christmas, which means that on Christmas Eve, you're still pulling pumpkin loaves out of the oven wondering why the inside is all gooey at the three o'clock in the morning -- not worth it so much anymore.

Last year, I decided to make candy. I made three different kinds, all in one afternoon, and it was awesome. The only problem was that I felt I needed more, so I quadrupled the amounts this year, both because there are more people on our list, and because I wanted to put more in each tin.

The meant making 500 chocolate covered cherries. That means rinsing them, drying them for two hours, then wrapping each individual cherry in a paste made of powdered sugar, corn syrup and butter, then sealing each one completely (so they don't leak) in chocolate. So after five hours, I got one quarter of them done. Actually, I got one quarter of them covered in sugar, and I have yet to try to cover them in chocolate.

So no more candy gifts. I'm not sure what I'm doing this year, and I'm hoping that everyone on my list is wanting a paper that one of the kids bring home from school, because that seems to be what I have in excess around here. And the kids won't let me throw any of it away, so maybe wrap a bow around it and pass them back to the teachers and call it even? I think yes.

PS: This is the text I got from my mom today after she accidentally sent me a text that was supposed to go to my dad:
"Oops. You probably don't even care, hog? Lol. That was for dad."

And this is how spellchecker can get you into trouble.

Christmas, Step 7

I finally got the first bits of shopping done today, and I'm very glad I decided to be sick this week and stay home from school. I don't have a Christmas letter from myself on how to handle Christmas "single", so I'm learning through trial and error this year. You, Interwebs, are lucky to have me to teach you.

Things I Learned Today:

When your ex says he wants to split gifts for the kids with you "so you can get really good gifts", just make your list around your own budget. His idea of "really good" may be different from yours, and his idea of splitting may mean giving you ten bucks per child "if" he has it two weeks after Christmas. Maybe. You don't want to take any chances, is my point.

If you have older boys, they probably want expensive electronical things. They will probably break them, so buy them used at a place that buys and resells stuff like that. But check Craigslist first because someone may list the exact same item for thirty dollars less literally five minutes after you buy it.

My girls wanted "FurReal" pets. I found them on sale today (score!) and bought two giant ones. As I wheeled my cart around Target in the wobbly basket, the toys were all "Meow. Meow....WOOF!" Which was really annoying. It struck me as I tried to hide them in the back of Ninja Truck before I picked up the kids from school that perhaps I shouldn't buy toys that make noise unless I can take them home before I put the kids in the car. Especially if three of the kids had asked for actual puppies and kittens for Christmas, and all the mewing and barking coming from the back of the truck may give them a wrong impression.

Be sure you have someplace to hide gifts. Seriously. Aside from your car, if those gifts make noise. And aside from areas of your home you may be afraid of, such as an attic or storm cellar.
(Underground locked room = good hiding spot. Scorpions and snakes and a foot of standing water = bad hiding spot.)

Dr. Grinch

As I am still not quite over the sickness I had two weeks ago, and I'm also about to go insane trying to get ready for Christmas, I decided to take a leave of absence for the last week of the semester. This gives me time to catch up with my life before my kids get off school.

I had strep before, and it seems to not be going away quite yet. I have to go talk to my doctor tomorrow. He is really nice in that made me sit in the waiting room for an hour but apologized for it profusely during while examining me when I was really uncomfortable and would've said ok to anything just to get out of that office kind of way. But I still don't want to go. I hate how doctors are all self-righteous about stuff like health and not doing anything that kills you or whatever.

Dr: What seems to be the problem?

Me: Well, I still feel like I have strep, even though I finished the antibiotics.

Dr: Ok....let's take a look...you don't smoke, right?

Me: Well, yes....er..yes, I do.

Dr: So you just started?

Me: No, but you ask me every time I come in, so it should be in my chart or something.

Dr: Oh, I guess I just assumed you would have taken my advice by now. But assume makes an ass out of u and me, so...mostly you, though. Because you smoke. After I said to quit.

Me: Yeah. :::looks guiltily at feet::: Ok.

Dr: Ok, you'll quit?

Me: Uh...yes. Sure.

Dr: Hmmm....ok, let me see what's wrong with your throat. :::gags me with a tongue depressor::: How long have you been sick?

Me: :::gag::: ooo eeegs

Dr: I'm sorry I didn't catch that.

Me: :::bites his hand::: I said "two weeks".

Dr: Yeah, well, I'm going to have to say that if you quit smoking, your throat should start feeling much better.

Me: I can't.

Dr: You can't? Why?

Mr: For religious reasons.

Dr: You have to smoke because of your religion? What religion, may I ask?

Me: I'm Catholic, but it's in the Ten Commandments.

Dr: There is no commandment that says you have to smoke.

Me: Yes, there is. "Thou shalt not kill."

Dr: So don't you think that could be taken as an exhortation not to smoke?

Me: I suppose. But I think it's disrespectful for me to get all homicidal during the Season of Peace and Love, don't you think? And quitting smoking...I don't know. I just think it's not really the time of year for stabbiness and road rage.

Dr: And quitting smoking....makes you "stabby"?

Me: My smoking habit is the reason you didn't lose any fingers earlier. Just sayin.

Dr: I must still insist that you at least try to cut back.

Me: Done.

Dr: And lose some weight.

Me: Really? That'll help my throat and my stabbiness? Ya think so, Doc?

Dr: No, it will not. It won't cure your smartassery, either, but it's good for you.

Me: You're judgemental.

Dr: No, I'm just concerned for your health.

Me: You're mean.

Dr: :::sigh::: I can't tell you what to do, but...

Me: :::storms out of the room::: :::forgets purse, has to go back and ruin a perfectly good storm-out::: Grinch.

Dr: Smoker.


I hate going to the doctor.

Chats with Shucks: Christmas Edition

Me: I guess since it's freezing I have to let you in the house. Don't be bad.

Shucks: I won't...I promise. Just let me in....HEY, since when are there trees in the living room?

Me: I'm busy, just leave the tree alone.

Shucks: :::lifts leg and pees on the tree:::

Me: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Shucks: It's mine. I have to claim it or nobody will know and the tree ghosts will come and steal it. Who do you think is responsible for making sure we still have the trees in the yard? They don't just stay out there by themselves, you know.

Me: Yes they do! That's what trees do! They stay where they are....it's their nature. OMG, you just peed on the Christmas tree!

Shucks: I wasn't peeing on the tree, yo. That would be gross. I was labeling it.

Me: With pee. You labeled it with pee. :::smacks the dog on the nose:::

Shucks: OW! Quit it, I'll box you with my Ninja Paws.

Me: Go freeze, Shucks. Just go outside and freeze. You are not going to come in here and destroy Christmas. Just go.

Shucks: Look, I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry you're upset about this, but I'm not sorry for ensuring that your tree is safe from ghosts. Ok? Just calm down. Why don't you take half of this tortilla that I buried in your closet and we'll talk this out.

Me: You're burying food? In my house?

Shucks: Tortillas are for special occasions only. If you continue to insult my ability to hang onto things, I won't share it with you.

Me: We haven't even had tortillas for a month....I don't think I want to share with you, Shucks.

Shucks: Suit yourself. I'll just go put this other half somewhere... :::digs at Dalton's mattress and hides the tortilla under it:::

Me: Dude, you are disgusting. :::gets the tortilla and puts it in the trash::: What else do you have hidden around here?

Shucks: Nothing :::chews on the shoe I've been looking for for two months:::

Me: SHUCKS! Get out!

Shucks: Why don't you just calm down, woman? I'll be laying down on my nice Christmas pillows over here.

Me: Your Christmas pillows? What exactly do you mean by yours?

Shucks: You know, as in "owned by me".

Me: Owned by you as in "Have your pee on them?"

Shucks: PSH! Whatevs, yo.

Almost Christmas Break

Do people ever grow out of acting up when "the boss" isn't around?

Remember as kids when there would be a substitute teacher and the whole day was just a waste? And I haven't worked in awhile, but I seem to recall a few work days that went the same way when the boss wasn't around.

Our teacher wasn't at school today, and we had this nice little old lady instead. Most of the time, we know if our regular teacher won't be there, so we plan our day accordingly; normally, I wouldn't plan to take a test that day, and just have stuff to do that doesn't require asking questions. This time, we didn't know, and the only thing I had to do was take two tests, and I didn't want to do that today, so I just goofed off and talked and studied a little.

Everyone else talked through the entire class. One guy kept leaving the room and managed to be in the class just often enough to make sure they didn't notice and count him absent. It's very close to the end of the semester, and we get the firing squad if we miss more than five hours or something, so it's very important that people are in the room, even if they aren't doing anything.

And if I could, I just need to mention that this makes me a little angry. I've missed about seven days of school because of my kids being sick. I can't miss any more or I face the wrath of the votech dean. However, I have done twice the work I need to. I am pretty sure that should count for something like maybe taking December off. Because I don't want to be anywhere but home in December.

There is one guy who sits in the front and he always leaves early. Our teacher notices it about half the time. He left today about ten minutes after class started, and the sweet little old lady started counting people and noticed that one was missing. She kept asking where the other person went and we were all looking around to see who was gone. After about ten minutes, three or four of us had figured out who it was, but nobody wanted to tattle. Seriously, like eight year olds. We're all "Hmmm....I don't know how many people are usually here...I see everyone I sit next to...I just don't know..." So finally, the lady decided she had counted wrong in the first place, and went back to her desk.

We all rolled our eyes at each other as a passive agressive statement about people who leave early and put the rest of us in a bad situation, and possibly also we were a little jealous that he thought of it first. Or maybe a lot jealous. Or maybe one of us was jealous enough that they spent the rest of the class imagining the wonderful adventures he must be having in the wide world outside the classroom. That person may have been me, but also maybe not, because the guy next to me kept leaning over and whispering "Can I go, too? Is it time to leave? Do you think I could sneak out?"

A few minutes later, the sub was obviously still bothered because she started going to every empty seat in the room and asking who normally sat there. This part was kind of funny, because the seat in question was the furthest from her, so we got the gossip on every missing person before she finally got to his seat. She asked where that guy went and we all said "Ohhhh...yeah...haven't seen him in awhile..." So she called in the teacher next door and wrote him up. And then some other girl realized what was going on and said "Oh, I saw him talking to that girl over there!" The "girl over there" was one who knew he was missing and hadn't told, so she wasn't very thrilled with getting called out. The thing is, I didn't see him talk to her, and I was pretty sure it hadn't happened.

It hadn't. She had been talking to a different guy, the one who kept disappearing but also coming back. So the lady who was trying to tattle starts cracking up and says "Oh, well, they all look alike, who cares?" I kid you not, she really said that. And I thought it was pretty racist against men, because that was pretty much the only thing those two had in common....

And what does it say about my life right now that I really want to grill that guy tomorrow on what he did during his free time so that I may live a little vicariously through him....maybe he took a nap, or got a pizza, or sat down and listened to his iPod....wow. He's my hero.

Another Run In with the Police

Dalton is the easiest kid in the world to raise. He is naturally sweet and giving and he gets along with everyone. He always tries to make everyone happy and I don't really have to do a whole lot with him as far as discipline goes. When he does act up, it's always a shock, but never has he done anything like what he did this afternoon.

We had to run home and change for church right after school this afternoon, so I told the boys to go ahead and switch turns in the front seat, which meant that Dalton had to get in the back so Warrick could sit up front. Dalton didn't want to. So he just didn't get back in the car.

When he saw that I was seriously going to leave without him, he decided to ride with us, but he wanted to get something from the house first. I didn't let him because we were in a hurry, so he thought he should show me what's up by sitting in the floor of the car and not bothering with being in a seat or a seat belt.

I drove down our road, telling him to get into a seat, but he still hadn't by the time we got to the stop, so I pulled over and waited for him to get in his seat. He said he was stuck, so I reached down to help him stand up. At the same moment, Warrick yelled "there's a police officer!" I'm not sure why my kids do this, because they have no reason to fear the cops (as far as I know), but they always announce it. The police cruiser was parked about twenty feet away, and I think he lives down the road he was on, but for some reason, he was just hanging out there.

Dalton immediately grabbed his arm and started screaming "Mommy! You hurt my arm, you hurt my arm!" I didn't hurt his arm, yo. I was trying to help him stand up, but I didn't do it nearly as roughly as I should have at that point. I thought there was something really wrong with him, so I patiently tried to help him up so I could see. There wasn't anything wrong, so I told him to get in the seat and buckle up.

He said no, so I turned around and told him to obey. He started jumping all over the car, screeching "NONONONONONONONOOOOOO!" I got him by the back of the neck and said (very quietly) "Get. In. Your. Seat." He continued to scream about how badly I was hurting him, so I got out of the car to go around by his door. That's when I saw the cruiser sitting there...I had forgotten all about him. It dawned on me what Dalton was doing.

As I opened his door, I yelled "Are you trying to get me in trouble with the POLICE?" Ok, probably not my best moment, but I was in shock. The good news is that I think I scared the policeman, because he suddenly decided he did want to go ahead on down his driveway and quit worrying about me.

But seriously? So I told Dalton to get out of the car and made him stand on the side of the road where the view of the departing cruiser was blocked. I gave him a very loud speech about how I didn't care if the police saw him getting in trouble or not, and that he would be in just as much, if not more, trouble with the cops as he was with me for not wearing his seat belt. Dalton looked at me in complete fear because he was learning an important lesson: Mommy is more badass than the police. Yep. So he put his seat belt on and I never had to tell him that the policeman was gone before I yelled at him, and if he hadn't been, I'm not really sure what I would have done.

Confession

On the phone with my cousin this evening, there was some serious discussion about how many moms tell the real story about their day.

I have nothing to write about this evening, mostly because it's past my bedtime and I am sleepy, yo. So it's confession time...help me convince my cousin that there is no such thing as a perfect mommy, and that we all make mistakes, sometimes even on purpose.

My confessions: (and you all have to come out of hiding and leave your own stories in the comment box)

Just yesterday, I skipped reading any "Monday folders" and didn't even make my kids do their homework because I'm tired of their school taking up all my time. Also, I was mad at my kids and I needed to clean...furiously. So I cleaned their playroom and didn't sign papers and I feel great about it. I think I'm starting Christmas break from homework folders before we start our actual break. I am digging this tradition a little bit.

Once, when only my oldest was in school, I got so busy with the three at home that I completely forgot to pick him up in the afternoon. When the school called, I'm all "OMG! Where is their dad??? He should have been there by now!"

A few Sundays ago, I took a nap. I have no idea what my kids did. I don't want to know.

Last year, I forgot Emma's birthday until the morning of. I had to plan a party in three hours.

This year, I argued with Madilynn for thirty minutes because she thought she was turning six and I thought she was turning five. She was right.

I get excited when the kids have to take medicine that makes them sleepy, and I won't let them take it during the day -- only at night and I sit on the couch and giggle as they fall asleep without my intervention.

I bribe my kids for everything. I had to admit this today when a lady sought me out to ask what my trick was for getting them to behave at the store...she started in on how important consistency is and how I must be very strict...I had to tell her the truth. I let them pick out candy on the way out of the store. I am, however, pretty consistent on this.

Ok, your turn, Interwebz...what's your mommy confession?

I wouldn't touch you with a 39 and 1/2 foot pole

For the fourth weekend in a row, the ex has decided he can't take the kids. He couldn't even let his mother take the kids because he couldn't handle any extra people in the house. He couldn't even let his mother take two of the kids while he stayed in bed because that would throw off his entire universe and things would just start falling apart all over the place.

My kids are not impressed. They aren't really angry at him or blaming him at all, which, as much fun as it would be, I absolutely don't want them doing. They have a new plan...get a backup daddy. Maybe they read this blog. But whatever the reason, they have decided that it is now my job to remarry so that there is always some dude around to hang with them on the weekends just in case their real dad decides to split.

(Note: This is not funny. I'm more pissed at him than I have ever been for letting our kids down. My kids amaze me in their ability to handle this situation. I am both amazed and amused by their solution to this problem, and that is where the funny comes in. So don't yell at me, yo.)

Potential Interview for "Backup Daddy"

Warrick: So....what do you have to say for yourself?

Backup Daddy: Well...I'm not sure...

Warrick: Well, a position has recently come open for Backup Daddy at our house....are you interested?

BD: Uhhh.....

Dalton: Why is your face turning colors?

Huston: That is a scientific reaction to fear...we should start with easier questions.

Donovan: Do you want to watch Elmo?

BD: Sure, anything but this interview...

Donovan: Elmo! :::goes into the bathroom to practice for the inevitable potty training by flushing all the toothbrushes down the toilet:::

Madilynn: Would you agree that I am, in fact, a princess? And do you like my shoes?

BD: Yup. Sure.

Madilynn: Hired! :::runs off for the fifteenth wardrobe change of the day:::

Warrick: Not so fast. Have you met my mom? Because you would have to marry her and she's kind of bossy.

BD: What? No, I haven't....Can you go get her please? I just need her to sign this paper and I can go..

Huston: Do you like video games?

BD: Well, not really.

Huston: Hired! I'm not sharing. :::returns to the computer:::

Dalton: Is your last name UPS? Because that's kind of weird, and I go to school and I don't want to have a weird name.

Warrick: Dalton, the kids don't have to change their name, only Mommy.

BD: Can one of you please go get your mom?

Warrick: Hold on a minute! Nobody is getting married around here until I figure some things out. Now, are you available for taking us to the zoo on short notice, preferably on weekends? And do you make enough money to buy more video games?

BD: Seriously, I think you should get your mom.

Warrick: Well, he's wearing that coverall, so I guess he has a job. Good enough. About the zoo, though...

BD: Where's your mom?

Dalton: I'll get my mom, but you can't name her UPS.

Warrick: I don't think this is working out...you'll have to go.

BD: I'm going to just leave this on the porch and...uh... :::runs to the truck:::

Christmas, Step 6

Christmas shopping, the most stressful part of the holidays, can be made much easier if you remember a few simple rules:

1. Don't try to outdo anyone or anything. You don't need to do better, or even as well as, last year. You don't need to out give what you got last year. Save the trees, yo. Or the whales...or something, just chill out a little bit.

2. Never take your husband shopping with you. I know, I don't have one, but still, I did for ten years. I used to think it would be a fun date night and after five years of this nonsense, I began writing myself a letter after each Christmas to read before the next Christmas, full of reminders of what went right or wrong that year. One letter read "DO NOT take L*** shopping. He will play with Legos the entire time, and then decide not to let you spend any money, and you will just have to come back and do it alone later." This happened every year.

3. Men are hard to buy for. I found a solution this year. I had a day with just my boys, and I went shopping for all of the men on my list. Then, I made a point to tell the men that the boys were so excited because I let them pick out presents for them. That way, the men can't complain about what the kids pick, and I am totally off the hook trying to choose something myself. (For instance, my father in law is getting a toy rocket. He will be less than thrilled, but since the boys picked it out, it's cute rather than tacky.)

4. Don't shop on Black Friday unless it's for yourself. You just don't need the stress. You don't want to have to kill some other mom over a Tickle Me Elmo and spend your holidays in jail with your face all over the news next to Elmo. It's embarrassing, really.

5. Don't go to the toy aisle in December. If you aren't done shopping for your kids by Thanksgiving, you're just screwed, and you need to give up and use it as an opportunity to let Santa do the punishing for whatever messed up thing your kid is doing at that point.

6. Don't spend more than you have. That's not funny at all, is it? But it's just stupid to go into debt over a holiday that is better spent focusing on something other than Buying More Crap. If you want to pay for Christmas all year long, you need to start the January before, not the January after.

These are my rules for shopping, and I'm still considering just not doing any of it this year. Especially when it's an hour past bedtime and the kids aren't anywhere near sleep...sounds like a Santa lesson to me.

Christmas, Step 5

Our favorite tradition during December is to go look at Ooo Doogies. Ooo Doogies are what our family calls Christmas lights, and I have so many memories of riding in the back of my mom's van every year when I was a kid, never too old to be completely enthralled by them. I am still enthralled, and I love taking my kids out, only wishing I didn't have to drive so that I could lean my forehead against the cold window and get lost in the magic of the lights.

A few years ago, I started a tradition with my kids of surprising them with our Ooo Doogies outing. I would put them to bed just like any other night, wait until they were quiet and falling asleep, then make hot chocolate and pack cookies. I would warm the car, wake them one at a time, leaving them in their jammies and wrapping them in their blankets, take them out to the car and give them their goodies. We would drive around looking at lights, spilling hot chocolate all over the car and listening to Christmas carols for a few hours until I either ran out of gas or ran out of energy, then go home and crawl back into bed. It's my absolute favorite tradition with my kids, and it's theirs, too.

The next morning, they are still sticky and covered in the remnants of whatever snacks I packed and splashes of chocolate on their faces, and I have to wash their sheets and jammies, and give everyone a bath before we can do anything else, but it's so worth it.

This tradition doesn't photograph as well as opening gifts on Christmas morning; it's not as public as the True Meaning of Christmas; it's not as familial as Christmas dinner or visiting the grandparents, but it's the one that always sticks the best in our minds. Last year was an insane Christmas with my separation from their dad, the Christmas Blizzard of 2010 (I love storm names!), being snowed in for the three day surrounding Christmas, and their dad being hospitalized after being snowed in with us...I'm not sure I managed to get a single picture or to slow down enough to remember a single moment. But I remember the Ooo Doogies and so do my kids. It's like a secret little adventure just for us, nobody knows exactly where we are and we forget about the little stresses in our lives and meld together in a rare instance of brothers and sisters who love each other and a mommy who gets to be a friend and children who don't need anything but this moment in time.

It's the first thing they ask about in December, always wanting to know exactly what day I'm planning the surprise. I never tell them and I never even know myself. In years past, I would try to go on a day that their dad was having a particularly hard time, both to give him a break and to give them a break from the depression that seems to emanate from one person and permeate the entire household.

This year, I hope to go on one of the many good days we are going to have in December. We have reached a time of calm and happiness and openness in our family that has come from years of bonding through rough patches. The recent disappointments the kids have gone through have brought them closer together. They look out for each other, they see that their siblings are their fellow warriors in the battle of life, and they appreciate each other for that. It amazes me to see them becoming better people because of the struggles in their lives. I am inspired by them and they are inspired by each other, and I can't wait to go look at Ooo Doogies this year because it fits our happiness together rather than forcing it.

Christmas, Step 4

I am pretty sure everyone gets sick at least once in December. It has nothing to do with Christmas, but since it messed with my getting-ready plans, it gets to be on the blog.

Even Almost Martha gets sick in December, but she does it beautifully, and would never do anything like let all the phones die and not have enough energy to put them on chargers and lay in a chair all night and have her kids make dinner and put themselves to bed while she discovers that crying and staring out a cold window don't go well with whatever is already wrong with her head. Never. Almost Martha doesn't even have to go to the doctor, because she waits until the kids get it and just finds out what they have.

Turns out it's strep, which is pretty much awesome in the treatability department, but not so awesome in the do anything besides cry department.

Warrick is the one I finally took to the doctor, and mostly because I knew he was faking but the school was going to keep sending him home every time he complained unless I had proof that it wasn't real. He didn't have a fever and his only symptom was a sore throat that was mysteriously absent except for the first hour of the morning when I was getting everyone ready for school. Even the doctor thought he was faking and told me she would do the test just to be sure, but that since there wasn't a fever and he really didn't seem sick, it was probably just a little virus. When the test came back positive for strep, the doctor was surprised, but not so much as Warrick, who said "I thought I was faking!"

Turns out his coach had told him about what happens when you have to have your tonsils removed, and Warrick was hoping that if he played up his sore throat, he would be on his way to a week of ice cream in bed with no school. Alas, no such luck...just the icky pink antibiotic and he'll be back at school on Monday.

On a slightly different note, avoid the pharmacy in December. Or maybe all year. But definitely in December. Everyone in the world was there today. Hi, guys! I got the timid tech. Warrick's prescription was done, but mine was not, so she rang his up and then went to get a little measuring spoon for it. Twenty minutes later, I was yelling at my kids to quit touching everything and practically making them drink the Germ-X on the counter (hey, maybe it would help them sleep...don't judge me), and trying to make eye contact with her to tell her to just forget the spoon. But she wouldn't look at me, and I think the problem was that they ran out of spoons, so she had to go mold me up a new one and that can take a little time waiting for the plastic to cool and everything.

By the time she got me a spoon, my own prescription was ready, so she just had to grab it from the pharmacist and I could be on my way. Only the pharmacist was involved in a very deep conversation about what happened to the shipment of oxycodone they were supposed to receive that day. (I wanted to venture a guess, but I was still aiming for getting out of there in under an hour.) My timid tech stood right in front of him just waiting for him to look up and ask what she wanted. Only he never did. Every once in awhile, she got up the nerve to stand on her toes a little, but then she would chicken out and just stand there normally again. She finally got his attention and asked for my meds after about ten minutes, but then he picked them up and started talking again, forgetting to hand them over to her. This led to some more toe-standing/regular standing from the tech, until he eventually noticed her and handed over the meds.

I didn't complain because I have learned to never complain until after the last kid is sick...much like flipping off the guy who cut your power...there are certain people that come into our lives whom we would like to screw with, until we realize that they are really the kings, and we just have to live with it. The people with the antibiotics and the electricity are two of them. Also the dude in charge of Interwebz, the person who controls fuel costs, and the person serving your food in a restaurant...trust me, don't screw with these people.

So in summary:
1. Use only drive-through pharmacies in December
2. Don't ask for a spoon
3. Don't piss off the kings

Christmas Step 3

Decorating the tree, Part Dos.

After the tree has been all set up with the diapers and the bricks and the hook, you are ready for the trimmings.

The first thing you need to do is make sure that the tree is still standing. When you leave the room to get the box of ornaments, you are likely to return to your tree looking like this:

I know it's hard to see, due to the fact that the only lighting in my living room is coming from the garland…so here's a better idea:

If you return to find your tree at this angle, you can either throw in the towel and decorate it like this, or start over with your hook and see what you can do. I chose to start over, and managed to find something a little taller than my kitchen chairs to stand on, but next year I'm going to make sure the tree isn't right next to the heater vent and maybe I won't get too hot and pass out and fall off the desk I was standing on. Even Almost Martha learns something new every Christmas.

When the tree is standing (or not), it's time for lights. If you were smart last year, you wrapped your lights around one of those things you buy for your garden hose. If you were not so smart, you also put the part with the plug in first, which means that you now have to unwrap all the lights before you can test them and make sure they work, which renders the garden hose idea useless. If you decide against testing them because you don't want your lights in a pile on the floor, you can go ahead and put them all on the tree. Then, plug them in. Then, see half of them not light up.

Tell your kids it doesn't matter, the lights that don't work just make the ones that do that much more interesting.

Christmas, Step Two

Forcing your kids to perform for family, even though you are the only person in the world who wants to see this happen:

Step One:
Play Christmas carols constantly. In the car, in the house, put them on an iPod and send 'em to school. This way, your children are learning the words to every Christmas song subconsciously, and you can make them sing any song at your whim.

Step Two:
Teach them some moves. If you teach the youngest ones, they don't think it's dorky. Then, when they're singing, the older ones join in because they will be more nervous and will want something to do with their hands while they're singing. Do not involve facial expressions in your choreography...they need their face to shoot daggers at you for making them do this.

Step Three:
Wait till after dinner when everyone is sitting on the couch. This makes it less likely that your audience will get up and leave.

Step Four:
Say "Hey, (kid's name), I'll be you don't know (whatever song you want to hear)."
Kid: "Yes I do"
You: "No way...I don't believe it." :::begin singing the song but using the wrong words:::
Kid: "That's not how it goes!" :::starts to show you how to sing:::
Other Kids: :::can't be outdone and join in the singing:::
You: :::laugh merrily at your cute kids and ignore everyone else rolling their eyes:::

Christmas, Step One

If you took Martha Stewart, made her a brunette and put a feather boa on her, gave her six small children, took away one arrest and added about twenty near arrests, threw a few poptarts on the floor, got rid of the snotty attitude and replaced it with badass, and took all but one hundred of her dollars away, you would have me. I'm the almost Martha of Christmas. No, really.

And in an effort to give back, I will guide you step-by-step through this holiday season.

Step One: Decor

We have moved into a new home this year, and were quite thrilled to see how our Christmas decorations looked in our new living room. We went from nine foot ceilings and spacious living to doors that smack you in the forehead if you don't duck and a living room that barely fits our couch. It was fun trying to squeeze all the Christmas into our new little space.

We have a five foot tall dancing Santa who used to occupy a prominent place near the mantel. He is no longer allowed in the living room because every time he swings his arms, he knocks a kid out of the window. However, he is also not allowed in the sight of Donovan's bed, because Donovan pushed him over the first day and is pretty sure that Santa has been out to get him ever since. Santa goes out on the porch along with the talking moose wreath to give Shucks a generous dose of holiday terror. Santa, by the way, is on strike now, and refuses to dance or sing, and instead shouts "ho!" when I walk by. This was amusing exactly once. Now I'm starting to get a reputation.

My awesome cousin came over and helped me decorate this year, and arranged a beautiful vase filled with ornaments to set near the TV. Then, another friend pointed out how it's shaped like a mouse, and now I need to decide if I should rearrange it or notice its mousiness all season. There is usually one thing every year that drives me nuts, so I'm thinking I'll leave the mouse alone and hope it cancels out the crooked tree.

The tree, the center of most Christmas decor, needs a more thorough explanation, so I will go into more detail. Please read the first few instructions carefully if you use a fake tree and have moved since last December.

1. Before you do anything, be sure your old tree will fit in your new house. Most people would use a tape measure for this, and I am sure that is quite adequate. If you don't have one, and yes, this is why I'm the almost Martha of Christmas, you should use a person. Have them pretend to be the base of the tree and hold it up while you assemble it. You don't want to put the real base down, just in case it doesn't fit and that would be some wasted effort. Your friend will be poked in the eye with branches and end up so far under the tree that you probably don't need a tree skirt, so make sure it's a good friend who will still love you after this. I prefer cousins or siblings...they have to love you no matter what.

2. After you establish that it fits, you can take it all apart in order to assemble the base. If you had free movers, the base of your tree is no longer functional. You will need three bricks, a bungee cord and a diaper (preferably clean). Poke the "trunk" of the tree into the center hole of a brick. If it's still a little loose, wrap the trunk in the diaper before you insert it into the brick. Make sure your cousin is standing by to catch the tree if it tilts. Put the other two bricks on either side of the first one, and secure all three together with the bungee cord.

3. Don't let your cousin leave yet, because the tree is still not sure how straight it wants to be. While she holds the tree up, you get a chair, a nail, a hammer and a plant hook. Put the nail where you want the top of the tree to reach on your ceiling. Then take it out and replace with the hook. Twist the top branches of your tree around the hook until it seems secure. Allow your cousin to let go, and your tree should be standing mostly straight and probably safe from falling over. You will know for sure after the ornaments are on. Good luck with that.

4. Find a pretty tree skirt to cover the bricks and you're all set for lights and ornaments.

Those are the basics for Christmas decorating. By Monday, we will cover putting the ornaments on the tree and whether or not lighted garland can share a plug with your refrigerator.

Turkey Day

Happy Thanksgiving, Interwebz. I wonder how much turkey it takes to feed the Internet. Probably a lot.

Giant win today watching the parade with my kids. When the Rockettes came on, Donovan said "Look, Mama! That's you!" Yeah, Mama could so be a Rockette. This is why I don't post pictures of myself, I can convince you that I'm a Rockette. No, really.

We started dinner at my sister's house with the Cupid Shuffle. That is how cool my family is. And I told Donovan he was "totally lame" because he only wanted to hang out with his mommy all night, and now that's his new favorite phrase...you know how you spend all that time waiting for your kids to talk, then wish they would stop? Yeah.

This year, my kids went on a Thanksgiving strike and decided they didn't like turkey, dressing, or any type of casserole, and as we know, they are offended by mashed potatoes (because "they taste like mashed potatoes!), so they ate only bread and fruit. They just aren't American, my kids. Or maybe they were celebrating freedom from real food, I don't know. At any rate, I am no longer wasting half of Thanksgiving day in the line for food six different times. Instead, I'm bringing a loaf of bread and a bunch of bananas, setting them up a picnic table and I'll be all "lates, yo...I'ma go eat and I'll see y'all when it's time to go."

I'm hoping they feel the same about Christmas gifts. Santa broke this year, y'all...had to buy Mama a new Ninja Truck. I'm thinking of wrapping giant boxes...that's what they want to play with anyway. Maybe I'll be nice and throw in some bubble wrap. I think that covers all the bases...fun and noisy.

Well, Interwebz, time to move on to Advent, my house will literally be exploding with Christmas tomorrow. I'm going to attempt to put 2500 square feet worth of decorations into a 1300 square foot home. It'll be storming glitter in here.

Good night.

Sidetracked

Well, Interwebz, I got seriously sidetracked by Glee and forgot to write tonight. Will Kurt ever be tolerated? Will Rachel ever grow up? Will Finn ever wipe that stupid look off his face? I have to know.

I just can't write until I know.

Bad Behavior

Today was Madilynn's kindergarten Thanksgiving program, which, if I could write it as cute as it was, I would be quite famous by now. The teacher let them all have a few seconds at the beginning to wave at their families in hopes that they wouldn't do it through the entire show. It worked, which makes me wonder if I should let Emma and Donovan go ahead and try to kill each other for five minutes before we get in the car each time, and maybe I won't want to drive off a cliff, which, luckily, is hard to do on the prairie.

I was hoping that Ninja Truck would solve this problem, what with all the seats and stuff, but apparently not.

Or maybe if I let the kids color on the walls and steal food and throw things at their siblings after dinner, they won't be inclined to do so until midnight every night.

On a completely unrelated note, sort of, my kids had Thanksgiving with my in-laws on Saturday. I was to drop them off and pick them up, which was fine with me, because I really needed a break. But when I got back to pick them up, I got questioned by my brother in law on what sort of table manners I was teaching my children. It seems that, right in the middle of dinner, my two girls and their cousin, who is right in between their ages, took off their shoes and started licking each other's feet.

Ok, here's the thing...I realize that my brother in law was probably kidding. But there have been so many times that I have picked my kids up to hear things like...

"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I told the kids that we don't talk about poop at the table...you're probably used to it, but I'm not..."

"I told them that the rules at my house are different and it's not ok to throw food when they're at my house..."

"I had to have a talk with them about not pouring their drinks on each other...I know you have your own set of rules, but I don't like messes."

Wow.

Because you see, my children never act that way at my house. And our rules, especially at the dinner table, are very strict. I don't like the implication that my children are using horrendous manners because I am teaching them that way...has it occurred to anyone that perhaps they are testing the boundaries when I am not around? I guess not....

Don't get me wrong, my children behave in a manner that drives me up the wall at least fifty percent of the time, but never at dinner! And never because I have encouraged them to act that way. Why would I ever send them over to my exes or his family's house with instructions to be on their worst behavior and show everyone else what I'm dealing with on a day to day basis? Would it benefit me at all to have them go over there and ruin dinner or a carpet or something? Would I get any pleasure out of knowing that nobody else can handle for one day what I deal with 24/7????

No, Interwebz, the answer is no. Stop shaking your head at me. Stop it.

Chats with Shucks 5, Nazi vs. Ninja

I have done everything I can to make sure that Ninja Truck wasn't stolen, but there is something fishy about it for sure. I got calls from both the man selling the truck (who is out of town) and his step-dad wondering if I was going to show up (an hour before I was supposed to be there) and making sure I had cash. Then another call ten minutes before I was supposed to be there wondering the same thing. So I purposely went to Starbucks and made myself ten minutes late just to make them sweat. I did that knowing they probably had some drug deal going down and that's why they needed the cash so fast, but I didn't care because I was annoyed.


Then Nazi Truck Lady yelled out the window at her husband the entire time I was there signing papers and letting her husband count the cash. She wanted to make sure he remembered how much I owed. And what person would remember to actually count the money if their wife wasn't screaming it at them? Because obviously not this guy! So she was just taking care of him, I guess. And she also wanted him to tell me one more time that I ought to pay the full amount her son asked for in the first place. I give this guy credit, I would have jumped off the nearest cliff if I lived with that woman, but apparently they have access to really good weed. Or at least he does and maybe he needs to share with her. And he didn't feel the need to remind me that I was taking advantage of his son, but that was probably more because I could plainly hear her saying it and it didn't need repeating.

So I finally got the title and hopefully everything else I need, and I made sure again that the truck wasn't stolen (but I'm still a little afraid that I'm going to find out differently when I try to tag it). I halfway wished I had gone for faster rather than bigger because I just wanted to get as far away from that place as I could. But luckily, I am still not soup, and neither is Brother, who was kind enough to go with me and make sure nobody got me.

All that being said, I came home to discover that I probably didn't need Ninja Truck after all, because Shucks was on the job...

Shucks: Look! Lookie Lookie Lookie!

Me: What, Shucks?

Shucks: Look what I got you!

Me: Um...that's Dustin's truck. It's been here for two weeks.

Shucks: I know! But I bought it! For you!

Me: You bought it?

Shucks: Yup, it's mine. But I want you to have it.

Me: Shucks, that isn't your truck. It's Dustin's.

Shucks: Nope, look... :::lifts leg...pees on truck::: See? Mine.

Me: Dude, that doesn't make it yours.

Shucks: :::melts to the ground and watches his entire belief system crumble around him::: Not mine...? But...I peed on it. How can this be?

Me: Ok, Shucks, I was kidding. Thank you for the truck, you're the best doggie in the whole world.

Sorry, Dustin, my dog marked your truck. I'm not sure on the legalities here, but I'm pretty sure you just got PWNED by my dog. Or your truck did. Whatevs.

Ninja Truck and Turkey, sans Nazi

I bought Ninja Truck. And I didn't get made into soup, but almost. I am very glad that the Nazi Truck Lady doesn't know where I live.

I'm going to have to have a little work done on it, so if anyone knows a good mechanic who charges about fifteen cents an hour and gets free parts, hook me up, yo. I'm pretty sure I got a good deal, because it wasn't until later that I realized the guy was actually asking $150, and he gave me the price of 100, then I tried to get him down to 75, and we settled on 90. Then he called me specifically to tell me a got a good deal (and why would he lie?) and also said that he was only doing it because I have kids. I knew those little short people would come in handy some time.

So, I am hoping I don't have to cram them into Dustin's truck anymore, and can cram them into my own truck which has more seating and enough space in the back for groceries and a baby elephant all at once.

And it gets great gas mileage, too.

Ok, that's a lie. But still...for seventy five dollars, who can complain?

Tomorrow is Monday, Interwebz. Can you do something about that, please? I get five days off for Thanksgiving (including the weekend), and yet I'm not satisfied...I want the entire week. Or maybe at least skip Monday.

I honestly have nothing to say today. Nobody made me mad all day. I got a truck but the Nazi didn't even come out to say hi or try to stab me or anything. I went to church but I didn't cry or inhale my gum. So I'm just not really all that funny.

Oh, and the ex isn't taking the kids over Thanksgiving break, but I'm glad because I know he can't. Unfortunately, Huston intercepted the text he sent me, so that's how they found out. Ex said he still felt "institutionalized", so the kids were all asking me where and why their daddy is "entrenched" because "institutionalized" is the one word Huston can't read, it seems. So, that was a fun explanation. They were disappointed, but I think it has more to do with the fact that they know I'll make them perform all the turkey songs they know if they have to spend it with me. Mwuahahahaha

The end.

Nazi Truck Lady

I went to look at Ninja Truck today. It is being sold by a man who lives far away and has his parents showing it for him. I talked to his mother to make arrangements and I'm pretty sure she is a Nazi.

Is that wrong?

She yelled at me on the phone because I said that I could come any time this afternoon.

Nazi Truck Lady: What time?

Me: Any time after one.

NTL: It's Saturday! What time?

Me: As long as its after one, I can come any time that is good for you.

NTL: Well, you know, it's Saturday, we are very busy and HOW CAN I TELL YOU YES IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME AN EXACT TIME?????

Me: Ok, ummm...two?

NTL: No.

Me: Three?

NTL: No. Two thirty.

Me: Ok, I'll be there at two thirty.

NTL: NO, I CAN'T BE HERE AT TWO THIRTY! HOLD ON!

Me: ....

NTL: My husband will be here, come at two thirty.

Me: Ok, thanks! I'll see you then.

NTL: :::click:::

So I was very glad that I would be dealing with the husband and not the Nazi Lady, and I took my brother with me because I didn't want to be serially murdered by the husband, either.

The husband started to get in the back seat of the car to let us drive around a bit, and Nazi Lady came running outside. He rolled down the window and told her what he was doing and she just glared at him from the front porch. Maybe she thought we were the serial killers, but I think she was planning up a delicious MannyRee and Brother soup.

We rode around the block, and then did all that car-looking stuff like kick the tires, stare intently at the engine as if it will explode in a minute as a warning not to buy the car, and chat with the guy about mechanics and blah, blah, blah...

I told my brother I wanted the truck, but he told me it was leaking oil.

Here's the math. Say I have one hundred dollars to spend on a car, and I was willing to buy this car for that amount with only a couple needed repairs. Then I find out that it's leaking oil, which the owner failed to tell me about when he listed the other problems. So I offer seventy five dollars on the car, and plan to spend the other twenty five on repairing the car.

I called the Nazi Lady this evening...

Me: Hi, this is MannyRee, the one who looked at the car today.

NTL: Um, you looked at a car? So what?

Me: Well, I wanted to make an offer.

NTL: What? What do you....hold on. :::yells things at her husband:::

Me: ...

Then the husband gets on the phone.

Me: Hi. Ok, here's what I got for ya. There were a few things wrong with the truck that your son told me about, and also an oil leak that he didn't. I am not trying to low-ball you, but do you think he would take seventy-five dollars for the truck, because all I own in the world is one hundred, and if I spend all of it on the truck, I can't pay for repairs.

Nazi Husband: (he's not a Nazi, though, just married one) Oh, seventy-five?...

:::NTL screaming in the background:::: NOOOOOOOO!!!!! Those are NEW TIRES!!!!!

Husband: ...um..yeah, it's new tires..

NTL: NOOOOO!!!! VERY LOW! I'LL KILL YOU! HANG UP

Husband: Yes, well, you see, my son has put ...hold on

NTL: TELL HER NO! TELL HER NO! TELL HER NO!!!!! ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HER??? SHE'S TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOU!!!! HANG UUUUUUUUUUP!!!!!

Husband: ...um, yes, as I was saying...new tires.

NTL: DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH WORK HE'S PUT INTO THAT??? HANG UP! THAT'S VERY LOW! HE'S NOT TAKING SEVENTY FIVE!!!

Husband: ...yes, he's put a lot of work into that. How bout I give him a call and ask him, since it's his car (I think he was looking at his wife at this point, because he said it very pointedly and I was too busy Googling "how to not become Nazi Soup" to say anything).

NTL: NO! I SAID NO! YOU WON'T CALL...TELL HER NO.

Me: Ok, just let me know. Thanks so much and please don't let your wife kill me.

NTL: NOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Husband: :::click:::

I'm pretty sure that the husband is soup now, and nobody is going to be calling the son with my offer.

Responsed.

The ensuing correspondence, following yesterday's email:

Electric Company:

"If you would respond to this email with your account number and the last four digits of your social security number, we would be happy to look into this for you."


Me:

"Account number: ###########-#

Social Security: ####

I am fairly certain the words "non account specific" (which was the heading under which I sent my email, because it was the only one that didn't require my account number) mean that you don't need my account information to read my correspondence. Please don't cut off my power because I am a smartass...I'm pretty sure that smartasses get electricity, too. It's in the Constitution. I think."



Electric Company:

"Actually, 'non account specific' refers to inquiries that relate to general, non-electric service issues...to discuss your account information, such as deposits, we need to verify who we are speaking with...

The deposit held on your account is $635.00

:::An entire statement of my account history, followed with an explanation of different bill paying options:::

In any event, we do show a credit balance on the account, and would note that there is at this time no danger of disconnect whatsoever. (We would note that smartassery of any sort has no bearing on disconnect of service, for which more than a few of us around here, your humble correspondent included, are deeply grateful. We also understand that having service cut off for any reason is a highly stressful situation, and kept that in mind.)
With regards,
Electric Company

Me:

Thank you for the information. Perhaps it is Gas Company who has two thousand of my dollars.
I apologize for my incorrectness, I can assure you it doesn't happen often.
Thank you for not cutting me off due to smartassery, and also for my new favorite word, which is smartassery. It will be used often and well.
In humble apologies and sincere earnestness in paying my future bills on time,
MannyRee

Dear Electric Company

To Whom it May Concern (probably nobody):
I have been dealing with you for quite a few years, now. I believe the two of us have reached an impasse and should part ways. However, this is impossible until I am able to build my windmill and solar panels. Therefore, I am writing to you to address some of the issues we have had in the past. I realize that you do not care that I am unhappy with you as I have less of a chance of leaving this relationship than I do of remembering to pay my bill on time. But lets face it, neither one of those things is going to happen.

I realize that I forgot to pay you, even after you sent me the notice on the pretty colored paper. I had to put cash into my account so that I could call a payment in, but the problem lies in the fact that I also had to take all six of my children to the grocery store that same day. This lasted from the minute school got out that afternoon until after my kids' bedtime that evening, which meant that dinner and homework were done around midnight and the kids finally fell asleep just as our alarms were going off the next morning. Somehow, in all of this shuffle, I forgot to give you a call. I sincerely apologize.

When I came home yesterday ten minutes before your offices closed to find my power out, I was not impressed. I had just been listening to the weather man say that the temperatures would be in the twenties over night, and there was no way I could keep all the kids warm in that house with no power. Yet, still, I know I am to blame because I did forget to call you.

I just have one question. You see, over the last few years, due to my inability to pay you on time, you have cut off my power numerous times to demand more of a deposit. You are currently in possession of over two thousand of my dollars. Dollars that could buy me a truck so that I have something to drive every day, but instead, are sitting in your pocket earning me one dollar a month in interest. While I appreciate you storing my dollars for me, I would like them back before you cut off my power again, please. It doesn't make sense to me that you can cut the power when my bill is just over one hundred dollars. Essentially, you own me two thousand dollars, and I'm the one crammed into a hotel room with six screaming children. Somehow, this doesn't seem fair.

Does this have to do with the time I flipped you off for cutting my power and then telling me you were too far away (ten feet from my house) to turn it back on again? Because I thought we were over that after I sent you another five hundred dollars to add to my deposit. But if that is why you hate me, please tell me what I can do about it. Feel free to come to my house and I will point all my other fingers at you until the one finger is cancelled out. Maybe you would like to come over for Thanksgiving or Christmas? We could be like family. Only, half the time, I don't have electricity for those holidays, either, because hell, it's a stressful time and rife with opportunities for forgetting to pay you.

That brings me to my final issue, and frankly, the only fault I will admit to having where you are concerned. I just can't bring myself to pay you on time. I don't have a problem paying my other bills, it's only you, Electric Company. And it's because I don't like you. If I had a million dollars in my account and a check all written out in a stamped envelope sitting right in my lap as I went to the mailbox, I wouldn't put it in. Because I have a mental block when it comes to paying you and I'm pretty sure it's because of the things you have put me through over the years.

So in order to work toward a better relationship with you, because I just don't see a way to move on to greener pastures, I propose the following:

1. I will go to therapy and try to work past my electricity issues so that I can actually pay you on time.
2. You don't turn off my power until I am the one who owes you money and not the other way around. OR, you can just send me all but five hundred dollars of my deposit back and I can promise you I can find a good use for it.

Thank you, I look forward to a better future for both of us.
MannyRee

Doin all the Right Things Wrong

Today I learned that I completely suck at not being perfect. Yes, that is what I learned, and yes, it makes sense.

I got a Bad Grade. And the fact that I am telling you, Interwebz, just shows what leaps of character I have made in my life over the last six hours, because when the teacher talked to me about it, I was gonna' punch her.

Well, I was going to punch her after I figured out how I could blame it on somebody else. See, the last couple low grades I got I was able to blame on DHS and stuff. This time, I don't really have much going on as far as stress, so I couldn't blame it on anyone else. Which sucks. Ya' know, because that means it was just me. Me? Yup...I'm still coming to terms with it.

After I decided not to punch anyone, the teacher laughed at me because she knew I was pissed, which, is it ever smart to laugh at the pissed person? I don't think so, but she's the boss, so I didn't yell at her or anything. She said "I knew you'd hate this. Um...did you read the book?" I'm all "Yes, I read the book....ok, well, no I didn't read the book. Because it was boring. Also, I already know how to do this. And also, the book was really, really boring." She laughed some more. I'm not sure why my demise was so funny to her.

As it turns out, I made corrections too early. Yes, I was supposed to pretend like I didn't see the mistakes and make all corrections later. So, since I made the corrections early, pretty much everything was off except for the final total. Which meant I only got about forty percent of it right. OR....I got a hundred percent of it right and the stupid book people messed it all up from the beginning...I'm not sure. Ok, well, had I read the book, I would have known that I was supposed to pretend like I didn't see the mistakes, which makes it all my mistake. There, I'll admit it. Psh.

I need a beer.

Anyway, My grade was bad. Very, very bad. I hate that. Especially because it got averaged in with all of my non-sucky grades and muddied up the water. Rude grade. That grade was an a-hole.

Luckily, my teacher is the opposite of an a-hole, so she's letting me do it over the "right" way. Psh again. Also, I have to read the stupid boring book. Grrr....even though I got a hundred percent on the test without reading it, I still have to read it. Actually, I'm not going to read it. That'll show 'em. I don't know who "them" are, but they shall be shown.

I also missed more points on all that Excel BS because I didn't bold some things. Really? Here, lemme show you. Would you like your titles to look like this:
NOT BOLD
or like this:
BOLD

Here's the deal...I like the bolded better, too, but I was copying off of a sheet of paper (not cheating, that was the assignment) and it was hard to tell if it was bold or not. The teacher couldn't even tell and had to pull up my document on the computer to check the format and see if I pressed bold or not. Yet, I have to do it over, because no, I did not press the freakin bold button. Grrrrrrrr....

She said "If your boss gives you a spreadsheet to recreate, and you miss something like this, you would be chewed out for it." I'm all "Really? That is the kind of job I'm training for? Because in my world, if my boss gives me a spreadsheet to recreate, I am going to ask him why the hell he didn't hit the little save button instead of having a stroke over my not hitting the bold button. But whatever, I'll go back and hit bold if it's going to make everyone happy."

Summing up today, I hate being wrong, I hate reading the boring book, and I hate the bold button.

Life Goal #15

What's up with texting?

I personally love it, but still. Is it just me or does it seem rude just to call someone anymore? I don't ever get phone calls anymore unless the person has texted me first to ask if it's ok if they call me. Of course it's ok! Didn't you call me every frickin day until last year when I finally got text on my phone? What's changed?

I mean, I don't mind if people ask before they call me, it's just that it weirds me out. Do I strike you as the type of person who would end our friendship over a spontaneous phone call? Is there something dark in my eyes that warns of certain death if you catch me off guard with the phone ringing with no preceding text tone?

Cell phones have changed our etiquette more than I can keep up with. I just don't get it anymore. Now I text all my friends before I call them, too, just in case I missed a rule somewhere. I don't want to throw off any one's day with an unscheduled phone call, even though it also seems to be appropriate to answer your phone no matter what you are doing. You know how they have those computer classes to teach the older generation how to use Windows or whatever? I think they should have celly etiquette classes for....well, young people like me who don't know what the hell is going on anymore.

Enough of that, I just sound old and mean now, which, Life Goal #15? Check.

On the way home today...

Huston: You just aren't rough on the cars, which is why you got stuck in the snow that one time and had to have Uncle Robby help.

Me: That's because I'm a lady.

Huston: Well, sometimes you have to be rough to stay alive, so...good luck with your life, lady.

Trucks, Disorders and Naps

I think Badass Truck is completely out of the question, although I did find a similar one for less money...it may work. Who knows. It kinda sucks not having a car. I heart Dustin's trucks, but lets face it, it sucked bad enough driving around with the kids trying to kill each other in the van. It's way more crappy when they're all crammed into a pickup. But still, Dustin's truck kicks Momvan's bootay.

I took a nap today. It was awesome and I totally needed it because I have managed to not sleep all weekend until then. Oh, except for the part where single parents shouldn't take naps, because there isn't another adult around to watch the short people.

The thing with kids is that they can undo an entire week's worth of work in less than ten minutes. So yeah. They did that. And more. No more napping for mommy, which is really fine because I'm a little mean if I take a nap because it takes me too long to wake up and then I don't want to sleep at night, which is why it's after one in the morning and I'm still awake even though I know that tomorrow is inevitably going to be yet another Monday. Also? A Monday without a car, which means I have nowhere to put all the papers the school sends home on Mondays and I need to take at least a couple hours out of the day to search for Ninja truck.

Also...if I don't find a car really soon, I'm going to run out of names to call them. Or I guess I should just stop naming them until I actually own one. But really? That's not fun. I do get a little attached if I name them, but not as attached as I would get if I had to fuel them up a few times or take them home to meet the kids.

And the kids don't even want a new car, not because they like sitting so close together, but more because they find it a giant pain in the bootay that I am spending time car shopping. Can you say spoiled? If their dad had just managed to not be sick over the weekend, I could probably have had it all taken care of. But noooo.....figures.

And I know that sounds mean, I am admittedly bitchy tonight, and not really mad at their dad for being sick. Actually, if you're feeling helpful, he could probably use a few prayers. Bipolar disorder is a Nazi asshole SOB, and I'm sure he's pretty miserable right now.

But at least he doesn't have to try to explain it to the kids, which I obviously suck at, since Being Bipolar seems to have become a life goal for a few of them. Little rebels.

Since it's so late and this post is basically just a really long status update, I think I'll move on to Facebook and bed. Maybe tomorrow I need to focus outwardly and not use Interwebz as a therapists couch. But thanks for letting me, Interwebz, because you make up for inaccuracy by being free.

Graceful Badass

In an effort to prove that I am still a ninja-mom, I attempted to walk down my sister's porch steps in the dark while simultaneously getting keys out of my pocket.

I busted my ass.

And it wasn't like I just tripped a little or anything. It was more like the earth beneath my feet went away, causing both of my feet to do this ballerina pointy toe thing, then the earth reappeared just in time to make my toes curl under my feet, both of my legs to bend the wrong way, and force me into an awesome yoga pose that nobody should ever do, especially if you're me and you hate yoga when you do it on purpose, let alone on accident, and also when six of your kids are watching you with a mixture of concern and laughter, obviously storing this up for future ridicule. (Although, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I made falling down the stairs look amazing.)

I sprained both wrists, which is awesome for typing and 10-key...which are my life. And I twisted both ankles (no right or left discrimination for me!), the exact type of injury you want to have when all the kids fall asleep on the way home and you have to carry them in. I did something to each knee, so instead of bending at the front of my legs, they kind of go in a little when I walk.

Also, I did something to my quads, which I thought was just a pulled muscle, but then I noticed that every time I point my toes, my eyes close. I don't understand it, but some wires must have crossed somewhere. It's not a huge deal, except when I'm driving a truck that's just a tad too big for me and I have to point my toe to go a little faster, then it's a little hard to see where I'm going so fast, and try explaining that to a police officer when you are driving around with seven people squeezed into a pickup that's not registered to you and it's midnight and you haven't slept for two days so it looks like you've been drinking when really you're just up all night worrying about people who don't really need you to be their mom and you don't really need to be their mom because you have six kids of your own who are currently very busy trying to convince the officer that they don't belong to you and will he please take them back to their old life when they had a bigger car? Yeah, not so easy, is it?

And I found a truck today. Her name is Badass, but she costs just a little too much. She had room for kids and groceries -- at the same time. I was a little too excited about that, so maybe that's why the guy didn't believe that I couldn't pay him more than I offered. But I gosta pay for the gas after I buy a vehicle, yo, so I can't just be buying trucks all willy-nilly and then not having the means to keep them on the road. Oh well, I think I can get a job with the circus now that I have this awesome toe-point-eye-close trick.

WANTED:

Position open for Backup Baby-Daddy.

Duties include:
Watching the kids when the ex is unable to do so.
Um, that's pretty much it.

Requirements:
Know stuff about kids
Don't suck
Be on call every weekend
Ability to handle six young people for a day and a half without calling me
Third row seating

Compensation:
My undying gratitude

Other Information:
I don't want another "ex", so there will be no wedding or anything...you just take the kids when he can't. You don't even have to be a dude. Actually, I'd prefer you not be, because not a lot of dudes can't handle this. And there won't be any of the other "ex" duties, such as paying child support or random phone calls where you get to try out all your favorite curse words. Unfortunately, the stalker position has been phased out, and all positions in lawyer-calling, text message-saving, and phone call-recording have been filled. As I said, I just need ya' to watch the kids every once in awhile, because mama gets a little crazy when she doesn't have her alone time.

If you are interested in this position, please fax your resume.
There will be a background check and random drug testing. We have a zero-tolerance drug policy. If, at any time during your employment, you test positive for drugs, we reserve the right to confiscate anything we deem appropriate and not disclose what we have done with it.

Brothers

I witnessed my boys being true brothers to their little sister today as they gave her advice about boys...


Madi: Some of the boys in my class scream and run away when I try to play with them.


Warrick: Oh, that means they like you.


Madi: What? Why?


Dalton: That's just how boys are.


Warrick: Yeah, if they like a girl, they're mean to them. Let me ask you, are you famous in your class?


Madi: What does famous mean?


Dalton: Do you have a lot of friends? I'm friends with everyone in my class, plus I have twelve girlfriends.


Madi: Well, I have lots of friends.


Warrick: Then you're famous, so the boys like you.


Dalton: Do you have lots of boyfriends?


Madi: Ummm....what's a lot?


Dalton: Well, do you have twelve? Because nobody has twelve...well, I have twelve girlfriends, but I'm pretty famous. You don't have twelve, do you?


Madi: ...


Warrick: It doesn't matter, it goes like this: If the boys say that they like you, then they want to be friends. If they say "I don't listen to girls", that means they like you like you. If they run and scream, that means they love you. But that's gross...I don't like girls at all.

Madi: But I heard you say that you don't listen to girls.

Warrick: Oh, yeah, well I don't. I meant it, though...I'm a boy, so I know when boys are saying what they really mean or when they're just pretending, and I was meaning it. I don't like girls. But those boys in your class just like you.

Madi: :::giggles:::

___________________________________________

I still haven't found my Mystery Machine, so if anyone knows of one that is for sale for $22, please buy it for me and I'll getcha' back. Or I'll make you Interwebz famous.

Kids

Sometimes I wonder what in the world my kids think about all day.

Second day of riding the bus for my oldest three, and the bus just didn't show up. I have no idea where it was, it didn't even drive past the stop. I was a little angry, because the kids are being picked up far enough away that I can't see them from my house, and they were standing at the stop on a main road for thirty minutes. Luckily, I'm a freaked out nervous mom and I was with them, but there wasn't any way for the bus driver to know that, so I wasn't very impressed that my boys were left standing there for so long. And no, yuk it up all you want, but we weren't late, we were ten minutes early. Do expect this to change in the near future. Yesterday, on their first day to ride, a mom pulled up right behind the bus, jumped out of her car, grabbed her kid and threw him on. She had obviously been late for their own stop. This will be me in the near future.

So I had to take the boys to school. No big deal. We had plenty of time to get there. Since we are still borrowing the truck, the kids are all squished together in the back, so I told the youngest two to stay away from the door while the other kids tried to squeeze their way out. The youngest two don't listen, so they threw off their seat belts and crowded against the door to see out the window right as Dalton was opening it. Donovan fell out. Yup...prime parenting moment right there...sitting in front of Snob School with all the yuppies lined up behind me and all the teachers standing in a row and my three year old just falls right out of the car into the drop off loop. I was a proud mommy right then. Then, in case nobody actually saw it, he screamed as if I had also run him over after I got done pushing him to his doom.

I was a little taken aback, because the teachers are supposed to help the kids out of the car, but were ignoring mine for some reason, and just sat there and stared at my son as he rolled around screaming. I did actually get out of the truck and go get him, but it just took me a minute, because I got all tangled up in my seat belt and then forgot that I wasn't driving a van and I may or may not have misjudged how big of a step it was and fallen down for just a second. Maybe. So that was our morning. Not exactly a great start, but mostly the worst thing that happened all day, so it wasn't too bad.

Donovan didn't break any bones or get run over or anything, so it ended up better than the incident yesterday when he slipped and busted his entire face...and that didn't involve moving vehicles or parking lots or anything -- only an innocent wood floor and a sock.

After school, we were all crowded back into the truck, and Huston started lecturing me on how to drive, because he's a boy and it's a truck and I'm only a girl, so I probably don't know what I'm doing. And I know I shouldn't go all "HA! You're WRONG!" on my own kids, but sometimes I get tired of my boys thinking that I don't know anything because I'm a girl, so I couldn't help but be a little snarky in my head when he pointed out this button:

And then proceeded to tell me that it's the button you press if you would like Indians to shoot arrows into your car for any reason. Yeah, girls are so dumb.