Out of, and into, the mouths of babes

I go into the kitchen a little bit ago, where the kids are having breakfast, and I say to the room "Here's the plan for today, guys. I want everybody dressed and out of the house for at least a few hours."

See, if it was up to them, they would sit around in their underwear watching TV all day and doing nothing. They need to at least see the light of day for a bit, get some vitamin D, etc. I'm not going to be responsible for creating cute little vampires, I'll tell you that much.

They don't like the idea of having to get dressed and leave the house, however, so Child 2 comes up to me with this sad, doe-eyed expression on his face and says "But I don't feel good." 

So I say "then put down the bacon."

And then he does this:

You can tell this kid is mine.

---

The Prince of Cake

Tonight at dinner, Child 2 was being very argumentative. This is not an unusual occurrence. He didn't like what I had made (macaroni and cheese, of all things) and he complained about every bite. "I don't like macaroni and cheese." I replied, as usual, "well, that's your dinner...." Child 1 loves macaroni and cheese, he was gobbling it down during the discussion.

Dinner is over and they both run off. Hubs is home, so I tell him he's in charge and I go downstairs to watch the Boston coverage.

Later, I go upstairs to get something and I find Child 2 in the bathroom crying. Also not an unusual occurrence. "Tell her what you told me," Hubs says to him. Uh oh...

"Mama, I have two things to tell you but you're going to be really really mad at me about both of them." (This is how he talks, he gives me lists. He's so much like me. Soon he'll be communicating entirely in Excel spreadsheets. My boy!!) "Okay," I answer cautiously, because by this time I was watching The Voice and Hubs was in charge of bedtime so I didn't really want to get involved in whatever the hell was going on here.

"Number one, I just found out that you really love the chocolate peanut butter dips." He says. He's talking about granola bars. "That's true, I do." I say, because who doesn't love chocolate and peanut butter? "Number two," he continues "I ate, like, six of them and now I think I'm going to throw up." He dissolves into sobs. Apparently as I sat and watched MSNBC he had stolen and eaten all of my granola bars because he was still hungry. "I FEEL SO GUILTY!" he cried. "OH." I say. "Well, I don't really care that much about that first one, but the second one? Yeah, you're kind of in big trouble. Okay, bye!" I say and run out of the room, leaving Hubs in charge of punishment.

Later Hubs comes down to report that "Child 2 is in his room and he's on lockdown. He's only allowed to come out to pee." Usually he comes out up to 10 times after he's gone to bed. One time I actually paid him $5 to stay in there all night. "Also I read him that cake post from Hyperbole and a Half."

"The God of Cake?" I say, because I know her stuff like the back of my hand. "You read him the God of Cake?"

"Yeah, that's what it's called, The God of Cake. Except I don't think it had the impact I was hoping for, because even while she's throwing up cake all over the place, she's not sorry at ALL. She's just a hyperactive, sugar-filled, throwing up, remorseless nightmare."

Because that's how we roll in this house: Allie Brosh is our go-to for cautionary tales. But, on the plus side, it's been over an hour now, he's still in his room and he hasn't thrown up at ALL.

---

Midnight adventures in barfing

One night last week, the kids had gone to bed and I was fucking around on my computer; getting my "me time" (so it was between the hours of 10:45pm and 11:30pm. 45 minutes of "me time" EVERY FUCKING DAY!! YES!!!") when I heard crying coming from Child 2's room. It was soft, it lasted a few seconds, and then it stopped.

I did nothing. In retrospect, I'm a fucking idiot, but you know how much of a bitch that "retrospect" can be. But this kid is a barfer, he randomly barfs at random times, usually in the middle of the night, and it always starts with him making these soft crying sounds. Then it escalates into a big, smelly mess, and it was right then that I should have gotten a bucket and put it next to his bed. But, like I said: Fucking idiot.

A few minutes later it started again. Soft crying, lasted a few seconds, then stopped. Then it started again, a little bit louder, a little bit longer, and stopped again.

I still did nothing. (Fuck off, Retrospect). Then it happened again: louder, longer, etc. Finally I decided to get up and go in there to see what was up. I sat down on Child 2's bed and he immediately sat up and gave me a hug.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I asked him. "No," he cried. "I'm just afraid of the balloons."

Ahhhh, I see. I laid him back down, covered him up and went back to my room. How cute, I thought. He's having a bad dream about balloons! Aren't kids just so cute??? I wish my bad dreams were about fucking balloons.

I went to bed, while he continued to intermittently make soft crying sounds. "Balloons," I thought as I drifted off. SO CUTE!!

Maybe 5 minutes after I fell asleep, suddenly there's a very loud "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" coming from his room. I bolt up, but I had been asleep for just minutes, so my brain didn't really bolt up with me. I was very confused, stuck halfway between sleeping and waking, and I got up out of bed and just stood in the middle of my floor, unsure about what to do, while he yelled stuff.

Then there's another "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" followed by the unmistakable sound of my child barfing. But I was still really confused. What happened to the balloons? And so I just stood there, listening to him yelling and retching, and hearing those horrible splashing sounds. *shudder*

"I should probably be doing something," I thought, and I heard Hubs coming up the stairs. "Oh, good," I thought. "I bet he can figure out what I'm supposed to be doing right now. And then hopefully he'll tell me."

It was right then that Child 2 screamed, at the top of his little lungs: "WOULD SOMEBODY JUST GET ME A FUCKING TOWEL???" and suddenly I snapped out of it! Yes! A towel! I should get him a towel!!! That's what I should be doing right now!! So I ran to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and brought it to him.

That was all it took, I guess. Just an angelic 7 year old shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs to snap me out of my disorientation. Oh, and in related news, this weekend Hubs went to Costco and bought a carpet spot cleaner. Only $80! Such a deal!!!

---

An aspect of parenting I could happily live without

---

Oh. My. God. Lice.

It was Thursday mid-morning, and I was home reading reddit working really hard, when I get the phone call that every parent dreads.

It was the school secretary, who happens to be one of the nicest, coolest people in the entire world. "Hi Jill," she says. "How are you, sweetie?"

Oh, god. She called me "sweetie," something must be horribly wrong!!!

"Oh, god, what's wrong?" I ask. "Well," she says "I looked at Child 1's head... and he has nits."

I heard her wrong the first time, so I said "Nips? He has nips?" What are nips? Nipples? His breasts are developing? OH MY GOD HE'S ONLY 10 AND HE HAS MAN BOOBS.

"NITS," she enunciates. "Lice nits."

Oh.

Nits.

That's bad.

Child 1 has nits. Child 1 has lice nits. OH MY GOD LICE. We have never had to deal with this before, and it's been my biggest fear since he started elementary school. Not necessarily the itchy gross bug part, but the mechanics of putting crap on his head and making him sit still for however long it's supposed to be on there and somehow getting him to not freak out and rub his head all over the couch or my arm or something.

"Oh god," I say. "Did you check Child 2?"

"Yes," she says, "and he has a few, but not that many."

"OH GOD!" I say again. "I don't know what to do, what am I supposed to do?"

I don't even have any idea what I'm supposed to be purchasing. She tells me that she has a kit that she got for free that she can give me. I say I'm going to come by and look at it and then go to Target and she should use her free kit for somebody who isn't freaking out and plans to go and purchase an entire pharmacy in the next 20 minutes.

Immediately my head starts to itch.

I run to the school to see what she has, which I realize in the moment was pretty stupid and unnecessary, but I have no idea what I'm doing so let's just go with it. Then I run to Walgreens and I purchase as many things as I possibly can (including candy for them and wine for me). I spent about $80. Is that how much you're supposed to spend?

Then I go home. And get on my computer. And post about it on Facebook and Twitter. Panicky posting. People were worried.

Then I get up and I panicky-run back to the school and I have her check me, since my head is now itching so intensely there's absolutely no doubt in my mind that my head is covered in gross bugs.

I'm fine, though; my hair is clean. For now.

Then I go back home and there's nothing I can do except wait for it to be time to pick up the kids.

And post about it some more. By the way, a huge shout-out to my new best friend in the entire world, Leah. Somebody sent me a link to her post My Advice About Lice and then I found her on twitter and she calmly answered my questions without judging or questioning my sanity or anything. Also to Mandy from Mandy Fish who told me that everything was going to be okay despite my freaking out. And to everybody I talked to that day who had advice and funny/nice things to say. Thank you, guys!

HOWEVER... it's hilarious how much contradictory advice I received from people in that time. I've made you guys a list, but first I want to say that please remember that I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm not commenting on the efficacy of any of these suggestions, so if you see in here something you suggested to me, please don't take offense. My only purpose is to point out the hilarity of the whole thing. I mean, I talk to a lot of people, both online and in person, and every single person I talked to had experienced lice before, so they all had something to say about it. And I appreciate that! That's why I go online with these things, to learn from your experiences. It was just funny how everybody contradicted everybody else.

Here's a small list, and I swear to you I'm not making any of this up. I heard all of these things from at least one person in a 3-4 hour period on Thursday afternoon:

• Get the stuff from the store and follow every direction exactly
• Don't get the stuff from the store, it doesn't work
• Get the stuff from the store but don't pay attention to what the directions say
• Use mayonnaise and saran wrap
• Whatever you do, don't use mayonnaise and saran wrap
• Wash the hair with white vinegar
• Wash the hair with blue Listerine. It has to be the blue stuff
• Don't pay any attention to the "alternative" methods people will suggest to you
• Rub with coconut oil
• Rub with coconut oil, and then follow it up with Tea Tree oil
• Stay away from coconut oil
• Let the hair get really dirty, lice hate dirty hair
• Keep the hair really clean, lice hate clean hair
• It doesn't matter if it's clean or dirty, lice hate hair products
• Get a metal comb; throw away the plastic ones that come in the kit
• The plastic combs that come in the kit are the best ones, don't invest in a metal one
• Just smother their heads with vasoline and you're done
• Don't forget to buy some wine for yourself

Needless to say, at this point, I'm confused. I decided to go with the first piece of advice in the list, which is what the school Principal told me on one of my trips there, and I figure, she's the one who decides whether or not my kids get to come back to school, so might as well go with what she says, right? (She also told me I needed to "remove the word 'burrowing'" from my vocabulary, because I said "I CAN FEEL THEM BURROWING INTO MY BRAIN" and she said "don't say 'burrowing', because that's just not right.")

So, finally I go get the kids, and I explain to them the situation, and they're both like "whatever" about it. Except then we get home, and I look at Child 1's head. And I see.... nothing. Nothing that I know of, anyway.

So, again.... I go online and I ask "WTF? There's nothing there? What am I looking for?" and somebody (helpfully) tells me to do a Google Image Search for lice so that I have a reference.

Oh god.

That was such a bad idea.

Such. A. Bad. Idea.

I have bug issues. We all do, I know, I'm nothing special. But these fucking pictures that I saw made my skin crawl and FUCKING FREAKED ME OUT. So, I go back to look at Child 1's head, and... of course... I see a fucking horror show, which might not have even been there, in hindsight..... and I lose it.

Which, of course, makes Child 1 lose it, thus making the whole process completely impossible for us both. I say (internally) "I CAN'T DEAL WITH BUGS OH MY GOD BUGS I CAN'T DEAL WITH BUGS OH MY GOD WHEN IS HUBS COMING HOME HE NEEDS TO DEAL WITH THE BUGS I CAN'T DEAL WITH THE BUGS OH MY GOD BUGS" and I become completely incapable of doing anything except sitting and waiting.

Sitting, waiting... and drinking, so I crack open a bottle. 3 glasses in and I realize... I can totally fucking deal with bugs. LET'S DO THIS SHIT, BITCHES!!!!!!

That was all it took, I washed and combed and rinsed and combed and wiped and combed and all that shit. By the time hubs actually got home I was already done with #1 and in the middle of #2. At this point we're all pretty much in the clear. I need to do it all again in about a week, but at least now I know that I can. 

And that's what's important. Oh, also the gross disgusting bugs are gone. That's also important. Hubs and I have both done ourselves, too, even though we didn't need to.

And laundry. Oh my god so much laundry.

I drew some pictures for you guys to enjoy

Only 7-10 more days of that and we should be fine.

My head totally itches right now.

---

"It made me realize I had failed as a parent"

Sunday night. I'm fast asleep. I have the bed to myself when Child 2 comes in and lies down with me.

He coughs. And twitches a little.

Silence.

He coughs again. And whines softly.

Oh, god. I know what this is. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! He's going to fucking PUKE! This is what he does when he pukes, he coughs and whines like that!

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has something stuck in his throat. Oh, please let me be wrong. I have to go to work in 6 hours, I can't be up all night with a barfy boy.

Silence.

Cough.

Whine.

Cough.

Louder whine.

Cough. Gag.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Wretch.

"Child 2, quick! Get to the bathroom!!"

He gets up and starts heading toward the bathroom. And he starts yelling.

"FUCK! SHIT!! FUCK!!! SHIT!!!"

Oh. Oh, good god.

He makes it to the bathroom and I'm now standing in the middle of the pitch black bedroom. From there I can hear the telltale sounds of stomach contents being emptied. Into the sink. Well, at least it's not the floor. Or my bed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he howls from the bathroom. "SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!" He's a yeller, this one. Can't really blame him. Throwing up sucks. But... really with the cursing? I say nothing, I figure it makes him feel better. After all, they did a Mythbusters about that; about how screaming obscenities makes painful things less painful, it's probably helping.

I see the shadow of hubs coming into the room so I grab my pillows and head to Child 2's bed. Hubs is on vacation now, he can deal with this tonight. Happy Father's Day, though! YAY!

I settle into Child 2's bed (which happens to be the most comfortable bed in the house because it has this awesome Tempur-Pedic mattress topper) and in comes Child 1, who squishes in next to me.

It's going to be a long night, isn't it?

The rest of the night drags on with me drifting in and out of consciousness, and every hour or so the house is filled with the sound of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK!!!"

Does he really have to scream like that every time? I mean... I know it sucks to be sick like this, but come ON, man! The windows are open! THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD CAN HEAR YOU! And did I mention that my mother-in-law is in town and sleeping downstairs?

At some point the screaming and the cursing stopped, which I think was around the same time that my alarm went off and I had to get up for work.

Hubs and I were talking about it when I got home from work (and after I had taken a nice long nap). We agreed that there's nothing quite like listening to your 6 year old child curse and barf like a drunken sailor. "It made me realize I had failed as a parent," he said.

I guess we'll have to work on that.

---

How I get my kids to cooperate when personal hygiene is involved

Earlier I was messing around with Child 2 and I noticed that his fingernails were really gross. I mean.... GROSS. They were long and fucking disgusting. They needed trimming.

(Here is where there should be a drawing of really gross, dirty fingernails, except I was completely unable to make that happen. I even traced my own hand on the wacom and no matter what I tried it just ended up looking like a bunch of mangled, dying finger puppets.)

So I grabbed the clipper thingies and grabbed his hand and he freaked out. He doesn't like getting his nails clipped. He always makes a big fuss and pretends that it hurts him, when clearly it really doesn't; the truth is that he's just kind of a pussy about things like this.

We argued about it for a while, I tried to reason with him about the importance of good hygiene and not being gross, but he just wasn't having it. Eventually I made him an offer he just couldn't refuse. That's what we do in this house, we make deals; we constantly barter. Do this for me and I'll do this for you, etc. I'm not sure what kind of future this is preparing him for, but... whatever. Hopefully not as a stock broker or a politician or anything. As long as I get what I want in the end is really what's important here.

So I say "I'll make you a deal: while I'm clipping your nails, you get to curse as much as you want." He was very intrigued by this, because usually these foul, foul words come out of his sweet, innocent face and I get kind of upset about it, because a 6 year old shouldn't be swearing!! And as long as we're being sincere, which I am, the truth is that I don't actually curse around him and I always yell at hubs when he does it. So, I guess it's hubs' fault. I hope he doesn't read this, and if he says anything to the contrary, he's a damn dirty liar!!

Anyway...... I gave him permission to curse like a drunken sailor the whole time I was clipping his nails and ultimately.... of course.... he agreed, because what 6 year old wouldn't want that??

It was painful to listen to, though. I clipped fast.

---

Why doesn't anybody want chocolate for breakfast?????

Oh, god, you guys.... I am so tired.

So, so tired.....

Child 1 has bad sleeping habits. It's my fault. I know. He starts in his own bed but comes into mine every night, which is usually the point when I stop sleeping. You can read about it here. I've been unsuccessfully and not even really very enthusiastically trying to change this for a while now, because at this point I figure I'm just fucked and I have to wait for him to decide it's time to stay in his bed all night.

That doesn't stop me from trying, though, and I've been attempting to come up with things that would be awesome incentives for him to want to stay in his bed all night.

And what's a better incentive than chocolate, right?? What kid doesn't love chocolate? I know this kid sure does. So, last week I told him he could have chocolate for breakfast if he stayed in his bed all night long.

His response? "Naahhhh, I don't want chocolate for breakfast."

LIES!!!!!!!! He wants chocolate for breakfast, he just wants to come into my bed more.

Goddammit.

But the latest trend in night time antics? Child 2 has now started coming into the bed with me. He usually comes first, and then Child 1 appears a few hours later.

I get no sleep when this happens. See? LOOK AT MY EYES!!!

It's been happening every night for the last 4 nights now, so last night I told Child 2 that he could have chocolate for breakfast if he stayed in his bed all night. He was very excited about that, and readily agreed to the plan. I was very optimistic.

But then at around 1:00 this morning, in he climbs, and before I even have a chance to say a word, he says "Mama, I decided I don't want chocolate for breakfast, after all" and then immediately passes out.

Goddammit!!!

I guess I'll be having the chocolate for breakfast. To ease the pain.

UPDATE: I sat Child 2 down earlier so we could discuss BedGate, and he started crying because he's been having bad dreams about being attacked by a giant ladybug and the only thing that helps him is to come sleep with me. sigh. So... I guess we'll be doing that for a while....

---

And no information was actually imparted

When I told hubs this story, his response, after laughing at me and face-palming, was the title of this post.

It was Sunday morning, it was early, I hadn't had any coffee or even gotten out of bed yet, and Child 2 randomly asks me "Mama, are you pregnant?"

I probably could have been offended by that, but I was pretty sure he didn't actually know what that means. So I said "No. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes," he said. "But it's hard to explain." That means he had no idea.

I didn't realize how right he was, though, and suddenly I'm faced with having to explain something that's really hard to explain to a 6 year old. Sunday morning. Early. Before coffee.

And so I say "It's, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh............ it's where babies come from. It's how you make new people. A baby grows in a Mama's tummy for 9 months and then it comes out and it's a baby."

Damn I'm good. I should win parenting awards. People should write books about me. Instructional manuals!

"Do you understand?" I asked, hoping this was the end of it.

"I think so," he said.

PHEW.

"But how do you know when it starts?" He asks.

Shit.

"It, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh............ You, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.................. "

Shit.

.............. long pause ...........

uncomfortable laugh

.............. long pause ...........

"You go to your doctor and she tells you."

He looks confused. I pray for hubs to enter the room and save me. He doesn't.

"We'll talk about it some more later," I say, officially putting an end to the torture.

That seemed to do the trick. I'll have hubs fill in some of the blanks.....

---

We've created a monster

On Saturday I had to go pick up my car, which was in the shop because I regularly break pieces of it off. This time I had been getting gas and I put the gas tube-thingy in the gas hole-thingy (that's what she said) and I distinctly heard the sound of plastic snapping (that is NOT what she said). The next day I was unable to open the side door (it's a minivan) because I had broken off a sensor which tells the side door that the gas door is open, and both the gas door thingy and the van side door thingy wouldn't open.

I swear there's a point to this; really there is.

So, I had taken my car to the shop on Friday and they had to keep it overnight, and then on Saturday it was ready. Except I didn't feel like walking to go get it because I was hungover lazy tired really really busy that morning, so hubs said he would drive me.... and that we should leave the kids at home by themselves.

I was freaked out, as you can imagine; they've never been home alone before. But we were only going to be gone for 10 minutes, tops, they were both hanging around in their pajamas being lazy kids, and they were totally fine with it; actually they didn't seem to give much of a shit about the whole thing. Anyway, Child 1 is 10 and pretty responsible, all things considered, and you can leave 10 year olds alone in the house, right? (Do me a favor and just give me a heads up before you call CFS, would you? THANKS.)

So, we went through a huge list of do's and don'ts and rules and laws and all that good stuff (you don't open the front door for any reason; if the house caught on fire, go out the back door and go to the neighbor's house; if there was a bear attack, play dead; don't open the front door for any reason; etc.), and I showed Child 2 how to call me on my cell phone, in case of emergency (Child 1 already knows how to call Hubs); we practiced a few times and he had it down.

I swear there's a point to this; really there is.

So, we left and were only gone for about 10 minutes, and all was well in that time. Except? Now Child 2 knows how to call me on my cell phone. And call he does. (Yes. That was my point. See how important all that back story is? It not only makes the pointless story even more pointless, it adds another layer of inanity that you wouldn't have normally known of. YOU'RE WELCOME.)

He calls when he's downstairs and I'm upstairs to tell me that he's downstairs watching Too Cute.

He calls when he's upstairs and I'm downstairs to tell me that he's upstairs and I'm downstairs.

Saturday night he decided to sleep on the couch in the TV room so he called me from the TV room to tell me that he was sleeping on the couch in the TV room, even though we had just had that discussion face to face a few moments before.

Sunday afternoon I was out running errands and he called me to tell me that he was downstairs, Daddy was in the kitchen making breakfast, and when I got home could I please heat up some of that leftover pizza for him because he would probably be done eating breakfast but would still be hungry by the time I got home?

Later on Sunday afternoon I was out taking a walk and he called to remind me that I hadn't yet made the pizza that he had called me about a few hours before. "Remember how I called you and asked you to make me pizza? You didn't do that yet, so I'm calling to remind you."

He's not very good at talking on the phone, though. There are lots of long pauses and lots of discussion of cats and cat activity; much like when you talk to him in person, actually. He needs a lesson in phone etiquette, definitely.

Oh, I gotta go... somebody's calling me.....

---

Family Portraits

We don't take a lot of pictures as a family. I don't like having my picture taken, for one, which is one reason why you've never actually seen me. I'm usually behind the camera, which I'm fine with. Even my personal Facebook friends will tell you they're disappointed at the lack of photos of me in there. In addition, though, the four of us are rarely all together in the same place, and it's especially rare for there to be another person there who can man the camera.

Recently my mom "requested" a picture of the four of us. Actually it wasn't so much a request, as it was a statement: "I don't have a recent picture of the four of you. The empty frame that I have right now is 5x7. I'll see you on the 17th to exchange gifts." (Yes, I do get my no bullshit attitude from my mother. Thanks, Mom!) This should be a pretty easy gift to give, except for the reasons I stated above, so on Saturday night when Hubs' sister and family came over for dinner, I knew I had to seize on this opportunity.

Okay, so... here's another thing. Child 1 does not like it when the flash from a camera goes off in his face, but it was night so we didn't really have a choice. She took a number of pictures of us, and they all pretty much came out like this:

She would take the picture, and then say "Oops, Child 1's eyes are closed. Let's try again." She said that about five times before we figured out that we should probably prompt him to keep his eyes open. Except with the added prompting, he started anticipating the flash, and not only would his eyes still be closed, his teeth would be gritted in this "I'm smiling, I swear I am!" kind of way.

We went through at least 10 tries that way, with the following script each time:

SIL: Okay, ready?

Me: CHILD 1, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!!

Hubs: KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!!

CLICK

SIL: Oh. Okay, let's try that again.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Eventually I just said "fuck it; good enough" because I was just so tired of sitting there and smiling and yelling and smiling some more. I know Photoshop, I can always take the eyes from one picture and put them over the eyes from another, right?

What we didn't realize, though, is that with all that yelling of "KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN," Child 2 was also apparently making an effort to keep his eyes open, and his smile was turning into the "I'm smiling, I swear I am!!" smile. And so with each picture, his eyes got wider and wider, and his smile got bigger and bigger, so when you look at them next to each other in iPhoto, it's like this:

Ultimately I settled on the least worst of the 20 or so options, with Child 1 kind of squinting and Child 2 just looking slightly out of the ordinary.

Close enough.

---

The Mombrella

This is how we walked home from school yesterday. The whole way.

---

FOUR DAY WEEKEND

Today marks the beginning of a four day weekend. Four whole days off. Four. In a motherfucking row.

Now, you might think that when I say "days off," I'm referring to not having to work, or not having to go to school, or doing homework or something lame like that, but no. In fact, I still have to work and the boys still have homework, there's just no school.

So what, exactly, is "off" in my world? "Off," to me, means any day I don't have to bug children to get up and get dressed. They can sleep as long as they want, for all I care. They can stay in the same pair of pajamas all fucking weekend if they want... I don't care! As long as I don't have to holler 8 billion times in a 5 minute period "DO YOU HAVE YOUR SOCKS ON?" I still have to deal with trying to get them to eat food throughout the day, but you can't be late when you're eating dinner.

I thought I might illustrate (such as it is) for you guys what a typical morning looks like in our house. A typical school day morning, that is, because a typical weekend morning looks like this:

First, you need to understand the general layout of our bedrooms. Here's a simple, top view diagram. Because I don't know how to draw 3-D shit. Or 2-D shit, even:

When I'm sitting on the edge of the bed like that, I can just barely see the hallway between their bedrooms out of the corner of my eye. This fact will become important soon. YOU'LL SEE.

So, here is a typical morning in our house. (I know, I know, we're very lucky we don't have to be anywhere until 9:08am and get to sleep until 8:00, I know!)

8:00 Child 1 wakes up, gets dressed, gets something to eat, all by himself, and then wakes me up. The kid is a goddamned angel.

8:01 I go into Child 2's room to try to wake him up. I tickle, I push, I shove, I cajole, I poke, I nudge... I wait

8:10 Child 2 somehow makes it from his room to the master bedroom, where he is given food.

8:10-8:30 I let him sit and watch TV and eat because he needs the time to wake up.

8:30 The getting dressed process begins. We have to leave the house at 9:00 so you would think that 30 minutes would be enough to get dressed and get shoes on and all that. Yeah. You would think.

Since Child 1, the angel, is already dressed and ready to go, he sits at the desk in his room and watches YouTube videos until it's time to go. Child 2 is magnetically attracted to this activity and spends as much of the 30 minutes as he possibly can standing behind Child 1 and watching the videos with him. In the meantime, I'm sitting on the edge of my bed with my computer, and I'm hollering orders and inquiries to Child 2, (he is perfectly capable of doing this all by himself, you know... he just chooses not to.....) and every time I yell something, I will see him, out of the corner of my eye, fucking BOLT across the hallway from his brother's room to his own.

Seriously. This shit goes on for the entire half hour.

8:30 "CHILD 2, ARE YOU STILL IN PAJAMAS??"

8:35 "CHILD 2, ARE YOU STILL IN PAJAMAS??"

8:40 "CHILD 2, ARE YOU GETTING DRESSED??"

8:45 "CHILD 2, ARE YOU GETTING DRESSED??"

8:50 "CHILD 2, ARE YOU GETTING DRESSED??"

8:55"CHILD 2, ARE YOU GETTING DRESSED??"

By 9:00 I'm practically begging him to get his socks on and out the door. On most days, one or both of us is in tears by the time we actually leave the house.

Four days. Four fucking days in a row that I don't have to deal with this.

PAR-TAY!

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I finally figured out a way to get this kid to listen to me

Before I begin, watch this; it's only a minute long:






Exactly.

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So, the other day I'm standing in my bedroom and I'm trying to get Child 2 to come upstairs and get dressed, because we had to be somewhere. It was much like the above video, which I always think about during moments like this. I don't need to elaborate. YOU guys know what I'm talking about.

I yelled a bunch of times and still nothing; he was lying on the stairs moaning about something or other, I don't know. I was getting pissed.

Suddenly I look at the TV that's right in front of me; there's a movie on, I don't know what, but things were blowing up and people were dying.

I had an idea.

Win?



Edit: Whoever posted this to their Facebook account, thank you! I'm getting slammed with visits. Can anybody tell me how that happened? I'll, uh.... draw you a shitty picture if you do!

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Strange things are afoot at the Circle Smo

I had some time so I made a logo. Because why not? Extra points to anybody who gets the reference.

My kids like their screen time. I don't do much about it. As long as their homework is done and they do whatever else I order them to do, I let them play Wii and stare at the computer as much as they want. I figure it would make me a total hypocrite for me to look up from behind my laptop monitor only to yell "get off that computer!" So, yeah...  they definitely get more than the daily recommended dosage of screen time. I'm okay with it. You should be too.

Bedtime is a struggle every night. They stall, they hem and haw, they tell stories, they come into the room with requests for things they don't actually need, etc.  I do a lot of yelling; things like "WHO IS IN THE HALLWAY YOU'D BETTER GET BACK TO BED RIGHT NOW" and "CHILD 2 STOP JUMPING AND LIE DOWN" and "STOP LAUGHING TO YOURSELF AND GO TO SLEEP" and "WHY ARE YOU STANDING IN MY ROOM AND NOT LYING DOWN IN YOURS" etc. You know what I'm talking about. This goes on in every household across the world, I bet. Every. Goddamn. Night.

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FUNNY STORY AND FUNNY PICTURE INTERLUDE

We have this cat named Spike; she loves Child 2 and he loves her. They have a very strange relationship, though, because he's constantly tormenting her and she's constantly scratching him for it, but then when you try to get them away from each other they both refuse to allow it. She's been spending a lot of time on his bed lately and for some reason he is unable (or he refuses) to sleep when she's there. He complains about it constantly, but then he won't let me shoo her away and shut his door (because then she won't be in his room anymore!) I just tell him I don't even want to hear about it, you crazy kid!! I gave up trying to figure out that relationship long ago. Enjoy your dysfunctional human/feline relationship, nutjobs!

The solution that he found to this new problem is to sleep on the floor. He set up a comfy little bed, dragged all his bedtime accessories down there with him, and now he sleeps on the floor every night, presumably so that Spike will stay on his bed and leave him alone.

Yeah, that doesn't always work out so well for him, though. Poor kid....

Hit me with your laser beam!

END OF FUNNY STORY AND FUNNY PICTURE INTERLUDE

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Last night two very strange things happened and I'm still trying to figure out exactly who these new children are and what has happened to my regular kids.

1. Child 1 got up and started walking down the stairs, which he often does. Upon questioning he replied that he was "going to get something," which he also often does. He came back upstairs with two books: two books that he had taken out of his backpack. Two books that he was reading for homework. He brought these books into bed with him and he, um.... read them!?

2. Child 2 was in there talking to himself and giggling. I, of course, yelled at him (*highfive*) and then when he started again I got up to investigate. I found him on the floor, head under the covers, with a flashlight... reading a book??

WTF???

Who are these people?? Because they're not MY kids, I can tell you that much.

What's next? They start eating the food I make for them? They politely take turns playing Wii? They listen to me when I speak to them???????

BECAUSE THAT'S CRAZY TALK.

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Hubs takes one for the team

Child 2 is very smart, but at some point along the line he heard a rumor or something about "sex" and got it into his head that "sex" was when two people kiss and snuggle a lot. So, lately he's been telling me that he wants to have sex with me, or he'll kiss me and say "we just had sex!"

Um. Awkward.

I've been trying to talk to him about it, but MY GOD is that uncomfortable, so I thought "Hey! I'll get a book!" Surely there are 10 billion books out there about talking to or explaining to your kids about sex, right? Right. I asked around for suggestions and ended up buying 5 different books for a variety of ages and maturity levels, and they came this weekend.

But somebody still had to read them to him, so I asked hubs; and I was really glad when he agreed. So on Sunday night, he and Child 2 went off to read while I sat in the bedroom, twittering (of course) and I could hear everything that was said......

When he emerged about 10 minutes later, he stumbled into the room and fell on the bed like he'd been wrestling with bears. I told him so at the time, and I'll tell him here now (assuming he reads this):

Thanks, Hubs, for taking one for the team!!!!

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I don't get no respect

It was Sunday morning and I was doing what I prefer to be doing on most Sunday mornings: I was fast asleep. Suddenly I'm shocked into life by the enormous force of a 50 pound Child 2 landing on my back. "MAMA MAMA WAKE UP MAMA COME PLAY MARIO KART WITH ME MAMA WAKE UP MAMA COME PLAY WITH ME" to which I respond "guhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

I roll over and he is now lying on my stomach and I am suddenly and instantly made very much aware that I really really really really need to pee. "OH MY GOD GET OFF ME I REALLY HAVE TO PEE" I shriek, and he says "I'll get off you if you come play Mario Kart with me." So I just give him a really good shove and I head off to the bathroom.

Ahhhhh. That's better! So... I'm sittin there, y'know... doin, uh... my thing.... and suddenly the door opens wide and in comes Child 1. Our bathroom is connected to our bedroom and I can see past him into the bedroom to see that hubs and Child 2 are on the bed there.... lookin at me... and I say "OH MY GOD CLOSE THE DOOR!!" He says "well, let me just do one thing real quick" and comes into the room, leaving the door wide open. "NO!" I shriek for the 2nd time in 2 minutes now. "CLOSE THE DOOR NOW!!" And so he does, but with him on the inside. Of course.

He does his thing, which is to get a very slow drink of water, and then he leaves, only closing the door behind him because I yell at him to close the door behind him, and I continue to sit there... doin, y'know.... stuff.... when suddenly the door is flung open once again and I see Child 2 standing there with what appears to be a ziploc bag full of pancakes. "Hey Mama, guess what?" he says. I bet he wants to tell me that he's holding a ziploc bag full of pancakes, but at that moment I don't particularly care, to be honest, so I say "CLOSE THE DOOR!!!" to which he responds "okay, yeah, but first-" and I just cut him off, and am now no longer shrieking, I am yelling. "NO! CLOSE THE DOOR!!" He looks offended and slams the door shut.

It turned out that he wanted to tell me that he had a ziploc bag full of pancakes. I found it lying on my bed when I came out of the bathroom.

Okay, so... wait. WHAT are you holding? Oh. That's just my ziploc bag full of pancakes.

Later in the day, I'm taking a shower, when the bathroom door is once again opened and in walks Child 2, who, without saying a word, proceeds to walk in, pull down his pants, sit on the toilet and take an enormous dump. With me in the room. Showering. When he is finished, he then has the nerve to say "Mama, can you get out of the shower and come help me wipe my butt?"

NO. No, I will not get out of the shower and help you wipe your butt. Walk around with a crack-full of shit, for all I care, just get the hell out of my bathroom. I tell him to go find his father. He leaves (leaving the door open, of course) and I don't know what happened after that because he didn't return.

Now, I know that these stories of mine are not unique. I know that every parent deals with this kind of shoddy treatment from their children and that you all have stories of your own, but here's the thing.... I think I figured it out! The reason our children treat us so horribly is that our generation is raising our children to have self confidence and good self esteem, without even the fear of physical retaliation for their wrongdoings. The unfortunate outcome of this kind of upbringing, however, is that our children do not fear us.

We need to change our ways, fellow parents! No longer should we simply lie back and accept this horrible treatment from our offspring! When a child is standing outside that bathroom door, what we want them to think is "hmmm. Mama would totally kick my ass if I open this door and come in, I'd better just hold it." We need to put the fear of god into these kids, people. THEN we'll get some respect.  Who's with me????

I got back at them, though. All day long whenever one of them walked by me I would grab them and squeeze the fuck out of them and say "I love you and I'm never letting you go, never ever ever letting you go" until they screamed "LET ME GO!!"

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! That'll learn 'em.....

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The Stop Singing Alarm

I originally posted this more than a year ago, but it got no love. NONE! So, I thought I'd give it another try....

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Child 1 doesn't like it when anybody sings in the car (this is a big bummer for me, since I do a lot of my singing in the car, but that's for another post). This afternoon, Child 2 decided to start singing Old McDonald, which prompted the invention of the STOP SINGING ALARM, which is just him yelling really loudly. The instructions, to his brother, were: "when you hear the stop singing alarm... STOP SINGING." So, this was the scene in the car today:

Old McDonald had a f-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- i, e i o. And on thi-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

- he had a chick-

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-bok bok here and a bok -

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

and then after a few minutes, Child 2 just started messing with Child 1 (because he's MY boy, and he does that. *sniff* so proud) so it changed to the following:

bok bok here and a bok bok there (quietly)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

bok bok here and a bok bok there

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

bok bok here and a bok bok there

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 

bok bok here and a bok bok there

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Repeat.

Kids are such fun.

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Every Monday so far this summer

This is Child 2's first real summer with camp, before this he's just gone to his preschool which was year-round. Since I've never had an NT kid in summer camp before, I figured I'd just do what everybody else with an NT kid seems to do: to send him to 4,000 different camps. Kids need variety, right? Otherwise they get bored? (Answer: Probably, but TOO FUCKING BAD). I made an elaborate schedule (on a spreadsheet!) and picked camps where he would attend with his buddies.

Okay. If you have littler kids than mine and you think this might be a good idea, let me please be the first to tell you that this is not a good idea. Experienced parents will already know this, because they've done this already and very quickly realized what a stupid fucking idea this is. Reasonable-minded people may now also be asking themselves: "who in their right mind would send their kid to a new fucking place every week?" The answer? Only an idiot would do that, apparently. (HI! )

The first day of camp is always the learning day, when you find out what the schedule is, what the rules are, where to park for pick up and drop off, etc. If you go some place different every week, however, every Monday you're starting all over again from the beginning. That's not something you think about, though, when you're an idiot and planning an elaborate social/camp schedule (on a spreadsheet!!) for your 6 year old.

That will definitely be something you think about next year, though. Because never again.

Child 1 is going to only one camp this summer; his fancy schmancy social skills camp, which is far away and at the top of a great big hill. He needs to be there by 9:00 every morning.

Child 2 goes to a different camp every week, in various different locations all around town. He, too, needs to be there by 9:00 every morning.

See, I bet you're already starting to see the problem here. That's probably because you're smarter than I am!

I've taken a map of Berkeley and I've labeled some pertinent locations, for you visual learners. Items in red are Child 2's various camps; there are actually more than 4 but some are in the same locations, even though they're different camps. I don't know... don't ask.

Every camp has a different schedule and a different policy for tardiness. Some say "be here no later than 9:05 or you'll miss the bus!!" or "be here no later than 9:10 because we lock the doors ahahahahahahaha!!!" and some say "meh, no worries. Be here when you can." But since every Monday is our first day, I never know what the policy actually is until we get there.

So, every Monday morning I have to race across town to drop off Child 1 (he can be there as much as 15 minutes early, so he always goes first). There is traffic, there is chatter... it is stressful.

And then I have to race back across town to wherever our new location is and hope that it's okay for us to be a little bit late.

... and then? I still have to get myself to work, usually by 10:00 but sometimes 9:30

This past Monday, however, was the Mother of all Mondays. Child 2's camp is waaaaaayyyyyy the fuck up in the hills above Berkeley, in a goddamn regional park for chrissakes (#4 on the map up there) with these twisty turny mountain roads. I had no idea where I was going so I'd printed a variety of different driving instructions. Except? It was really foggy. Like... really really fucking foggy. It's hard enough trying to see street signs that are buried behind piles of trees in the middle of the goddamn wilderness, but I couldn't even see more than a foot in front of me. So I got the GPS going, but it was telling me things like "make a U-turn whenever legally possible," when I KNEW I was headed in the right direction.

It was frustrating. To say the least.

I got him there eventually; about 20 minutes late. Luckily it was one of the "meh, whatever" camps so he didn't miss anything. But then I still had to find my way back down the mountain, of course.....

Next year? One camp. Maybe two. And that's it.

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Adventures with Wii Sports

Child 2 got a Wii for his birthday (he's going to be SIX!!) and we've been having a blast playing it. We have 2 games: Mario Kart and Wii Sports.

I suck at both of them.

Now, there's 2 different ways to suck at something: 1. You're awful but it's a whole lot of fun so you keep doing it, and 2. You're awful and you HATE it. Child 2 and I are both #1 with Mario Kart and we have so much fun playing it. We do a lot of screaming (Hubs says "are you playing a game or having a knife fight?") and we can often be heard hollering at the top of our lungs "ROCKET CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!" I love Rocket Car.

I'm #2 with most of the sports games, although I'm much better at Wii bowling than regular bowling.  He loves them all, though, and insists that I play them again and again, despite my suckery. Some are worse than others, of course.

For example, golf. We've only played it once, because I absolutely refuse to ever play it again. Did you know that when you get to +8 over par they won't even let you play anymore? Even they know you suck at it and so they just make you stop. Probably to save yourself from further embarrassment? Thanks, Wii!

I've made you a poorly drawn picture of how it went down. Enjoy!

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