Best. Comment. Ever.

While my dad was here visiting, we were talking of cartoons that we used to watch.  I looked at Mr. Delusional, who was politely following the conversation, but not having grown up here, was at a loss as to most of what we were talking about.

"Oh, poor Mr. Delusional, did you watch any English cartoons?" I ask, patting his knee in sympathy.
Iman giggles and says, "Not my dad, he's so old he only had rocks and dirt to play with when he was a kid!"

Yes...my husband is as old as dirt.

I could have told you that.

I saw a story on the news a few weeks ago talking about how whining is the most annoying sound. Ever.  Did they really need a scientists to confirm this?  I think that mothers all around the world read that article and said, "well, duh."

In case anyone in my city doubted it - I decided to take my kids grocery shopping with me.

Well, no - I didn't actually decide to do that.  Fate did.  Mr. Delusional was out on some family business...and I ... well, I needed groceries.  My kids had been playing outside in the heat all day, and have been either fighting off or getting over a summer flu.  In other words; they were in "a mood."

The whining started before I even left the house.
"he hit me!"
"I did not, she pinched me!"
"No I didn't, he looked at me!!"


Yeah...that's not an exaggeration of what happened at all.

Then we got there.  There was a fight about who was going to push the cart.  There was a fight about what kind of eggos to get.  There was Adam trying to nab all the stuff off of the shelf and then pouting when I refused to buy Corn Pops.

When we finally got to the checkout - I was more than frazzled...this is when the kids start asking me for all the things that they know that they can't have.
"Can we have a chocolate bar?"
"No."
 "How about gum?"
"No."
"Tic-tacs?"
"No."

Then I look up to see that while arguing with the kids about this junk...Adam has decided that he needed to catch up on the Kardashians and is happily flipping through a tabloid magazine.  I shake my head but think to myself, at least he's occupied and quiet, and I go on putting my items onto the till...then I hear a rip and see that Adam has torn one of the pages of the magazine.

I quietly meltdown.
My kids sense the impending doom.
They suddenly all become quiet and helpful.
The ride home is silent.

Then we get home.

There is the chaos that ensues in just getting out of the car.  Apparently it's too much to ask a 7 year old to help his 3 year old brother out of the car.  There is shouting, pinching, crying, slapping. Meanwhile, Iman is standing there barking orders to the boys, and I'm trying to be the Incredible Grocery Carrier and have 5 bags hanging off of each arm and shout "Would someone get the door??"

Then I realize that the neighbors are all out enjoying their peaceful evening.  *crickets and judgmental stares*

Eventually, I get the groceries in, the kids in and my temper under control.

Now, I wait for them to sleep.

More Daycare-isms

School is swinging down, and the things my kids say is as good as ever!

Enjoy!

While folding laundry, I notice the tell tale signs that Adam was playing with some scissors.
Me: Adam, what happened to these pants?
Adam: OhmeGod (it's his new word...don't know where he got it from) something happened to them in the washing machine!
Me: No, I don't think it was the washing machine...
Adam: Oh, I 'member now - a dinosaur ate it.
Me: A dinosaur, really!?
Adam: well, maybe it was Isaac.  He likes to cut.
Me: I don't think Isaac would cut up your pajama pants...
Adam: *sigh* Okay, okay, I did it.

---

While washing up the kids for our afternoon snack:
Me: What should we have for a snack today?
Daycare boy:  Idunno.
Me: I know, let's have some carrots and dip!
Daycare boy: Do I look like a bunny?

---

After making the afternoon snack above (carrots, broccoli, cheese and crackers):
Me: Okay guys, snack is ready.
Daycare boy: *looks over plate* Don't you have any meatballs around here?

---

Daycare girl: Hey Adam, let's make (daycare boy) possessed and then he can join us!"
Adam: Yeah! That will be fun!"

Eeeek! They know my weakness!

So, after a rough morning with the daycare kids (not even gonna go there), and then a nap time filled with chaos and homework, I had a relatively nice afternoon.

I decided about 2 minutes after I woke up that I would not be cooking supper tonight. It was gonna be a leftovers or cereal kinda night...and I knew that I'd have to mow the lawn after almost a full week of rain...which was gonna be hard work.

I don't like hard work.

I did it anyhow.  I think my lawn is easily 1/2 an acre.  Well, probably not.  I may be exaggerating just a bit.  But, when wrangling 3 kids, 1 power cord and pushing that machine through thick, tall grass - it feels like that much.

My kids helped out.  They pulled the cord so that it was always out of my way.  They moved the lawn furniture and put away toys.  The three of them sat together with their halos at just the right angles.

They waited until I was almost done. I was hot, sweaty, tired and frustrated with the number of trees and bushes that I have to wind around in the back yard.  I turned off the machine, sat down and wiped the sweat from my brow.

That's when Adam pipes up, "Mom...can we order a pizza?"
Me: "no"
Then Isaac tries, "We'll pay for 1/2." (this almost worked last time)
Me: "no, guys, not tonight"
Then Iman chimes in, "Well....can we get slurpees?"

oooh...she hit me where it hurts.  On a hot day, after mowing a lawn - most people would grab a beer.  Not being a drinker, Slurpees are my drink of choice.  Oh, how I want a slurpee!!  I want to walk to the store and get one, but the ramifications are just something I'm not willing to live with!  3 kids hyped up on more sugar than they've had in the last week - and then trying to get them to bed so that I can get the rest of my homework done....just not something that I can do.

But oh...how I want a Slurpee.

Tantrums

I've never had a child who's thrown tantrums.  Oh...they've thrown the occasional fit now and then, but never one of those screaming, throwing yourself of the floor tantrums where other people look at you and say "oh my God, what a horrible parent!!"


So, seeing that I lacked something in my life, God gave me Adam.

A few weeks ago, we went to buy bikes.

(Yes, I said a few weeks ago -- it's taken me this long to get my mental functionality recovered...I've just been in a fetal position rocking slowly in the corner this last while)  

Anyhow - the kids have all outgrown their old bikes and were in need of new...so we said "Hey, let's go to Toys R Us and look at some bikes!"  However, we didn't go to Toys R Us, instead, we stopped at another store along the way to look at the bikes there.  Apparently, this meant that the world was coming to an end to Adam.  He started crying the moment we pulled into the parking lot.  He's cried before, and so we thought he'd get over it by the time we got into the store.

We were wrong.

He cried all the way through the store.  Then he saw the bikes and stopped crying.  After checking out the bikes we realized that there was a sports store in the mall, and we could look there since we were already at the mall.  This made Adam cry again.  This time, he started to intersperse screams of "NO!" while kicking and screaming.  It sounded like we were torturing him. (note, I have never tortured, nor  head anyone being tortured, I'm using a figure of speech called an "a simile" - please stop sending me emails asking me, "did you really do that??")

So, he cried all the way to the sports store, saw a bike that he could actually try riding and was fine.  Then we left to go to Toys R Us.  We thought he'd be happy about that.

We were wrong.

He cried through the sports store.  He cried through the mall.  He cried through the other store we stopped at.  He cried through the parking lot.  He cried in the car.  He cried at Toys R Us.

He cried for 4 hours. He cried, he screamed, he kicked, he thrashed - he could have had a starring role in the next Exorcist movie.

And people wonder why I don't plan on having more.

Daycare-isms

It's been a long, long time since I was able to write one of these posts...we've been through a dry spell lately, but today they were right back at them.

"Stop being such a girly princess!" 
"HOLY GOD, IT'S WAININ'!!!"
"when my mom walks her shoes go 'click, click' and her boobies do this *jiggles about like crazy*"
While cleaning up a mess of blocks for about the 17th time today, my little dude looks at me and says, "Does my mom pay you enough to do that??"

Mo-om!!

Yesterday, while eating supper, Isaac decided that he wanted some juice, I told him that he'd have to go downstairs to get some out of the basement fridge.  Down he goes - and comes back up with milk.  He looks at it, looks at us, and then says "Oh...I brought milk by accident" (he comes by it honestly!) and then goes back downstairs to put the milk back and get the juice.

Suddenly, I hear *thump, bump, crash* and then..."uh....Mo-om!!" I rush down to see if he's okay, imagining he's got a bone sticking through his thigh or something. Nope, instead, I see that he's dropped the milk down the stairs, where at the bottom, the jug hit at just the right angle that it split all the way up the side.  Isaac is standing there in a puddle of milk, holding on to a rapidly leaking jug and desperately trying to cover the gaping hole to stop any more milk from spilling.

Folks, he was standing right next to a bathroom!!

So there he is, with a gallon of milk all around him, standing next to a sink with a complete look of bewilderment.

"What happened?" I asked after the cleanup began.
"I tripped on a piece of foam." he says.
"What foam?  There's no foam here."  But oh, I was mistaken.  There WAS a piece of foam...perhaps the size (and dimension) of a quarter on one of the stairs....

*le sigh*

a brief, musical interlude

My lovely daughter is in grade 4.  This is the year (where I live anyhow) that children learn all things fantastic, sexual education (limited to getting hair in the nether regions & body odor), the French language that they'll likely never use, and...the recorder.

Oh, I'm not sure if I can quite explain my complete lack of total joy emotion about this.  I don't come from a musical family, but it doesn't necessarily mean that I don't enjoy music.  I played the piano eons ago, and my dad can sing...but that's about as musical as it gets.

It would seem that Iman has inherited this lack of musical genius appreciation of music.  She was so excited to get that recorder.  She chose the color and takes loving care of it every day (cleaning out the drool that eventually makes its way into the inner chamber)  She makes sure that it's safe in her back pack and out of reach of her little brother who is notorious for trashing everything.

And she practices, God help me does she practice!  The tweets, the ear-piercing squeaks, the poorly played tunes...it makes me want to scream.  I love my child, I love to support my child, and as much as I want to support her in her endeavour to play melodious tunes, deep inside I really just want to quash her dreams.

What kind of horrible mother thinks that?  Apparently me.

It also got me thinking about my future.  I've been debating going further into my education and becoming an honest-to-God teacher... then I thought, someone went to school for 6 years to learn how to teach children to play music.  Why on earth would you want to do that?  I like that children like music...I like singing songs and dancing with my kids.  But there is no way on God's Green Earth that I'd sit down with a bunch of musical instruments and attempt to listen to them try to play.

I am Hethr, Mrs. Negativity this week.  I'm also praying that the recorder lesson plans are over soon, because my sanity is hanging by a very thin thread...a thread that's vibrating with every note she tries to play...

questions, questions and more questions

I had to take Adam to the doctor last night (sore throat, fever, etc).  I don't know about the doctors in your area, but here, it's endless waiting...waiting for what seems like forever.  I've learned to come prepared - books, snacks, his blankie, etc.

So, we pull up to the doctor's office and I see that there are only 4 or 5 other people there.  This is exciting because it means that I won't be there for more than 2 or 3 hours (yay).  We get in, give the required information and set down to the business of waiting.  While we're in the waiting room, I'm hit with a barrage of questions, questions that are likely personal and that we typically keep to ourselves.  Adam, however, has no etiquette filter.

what's on that kid's face?
why's that man sleeping?
why does that boy have a pony tail? Pony tails are only for girls.
that girl's not covering her cough. Can you tell her to do the elephant?
Why does that man smell like that?
What's wrong with that man?
That girl has chicken pox, I had chicken pox, did I give her the chicken pox?

After much embarrassment, the nurse finally calls us into the treatment room where we were forced to wait some more.  This time, the questions were about the room.

Is that a light switch?
Can we turn it off and then on again?
Is that a door handle?
What's that? (hand sanitizer)
What's that? (tongue depressors)
That's for my ear, right mommy?
Will the doctor be able to find my throat?
Can I lay down?
Can we lock the door?
When is the doctor coming?
What's that? (the case of swabs)
What are these? (the stir-ups)
When I grow up and become a lady, I want to use those to get my baby out, okay mom?
Ugh...how long until the doctor comes?
I don't like my wife.

yeah -- you read that last one right.  He actually said to me, "I don't like my wife."  Good God, I do not know where that came from, but it was so funny that I laughed until I cried.  

I'm back, did ya miss me?

So, I've been back from Mexico now for long enough that my brain has had a chance to absorb all the things that I saw there (some good, some not so good) -- don't worry, I've still got more to write on my Mexico Blog  but I have homework and kids and life to deal with first.

Which brings me to my post.  Apparently I was missed.  Poor Mr. Delusional has come to the realization that I do a lot more than he thought I did (I don't even want to know what he thought).  On Saturday, I was blissfully sleeping in and he did a load of laundry *gasp* -- sure, he messed up my routine, but I forgave him.  The kids were making their own lunches all week Adam has started weaning himself from his blanket...I feel like somehow I missed out on a whole lot while I was gone.

Things were back to normal pretty quickly though. Iman and Isaac were squabbling, Adam getting into things he shouldn't and me stuck doing all those chores that I really hate - like grocery shopping.  On Mother's Day.  Woot. Woot.

Not much else happened for me on Mother's Day - I got a home-made card from Isaac, spent some quality time with Iman, and visited with friends.  At bed time, as I snuggled with Adam, he kissed me on the cheek then sat there rubbing it for a bit.  "What are you doing?" I asked.  "Rubbing my love in so that it reaches your heart." he said.

Best. Mother's Day. EVER.

(Oh - a post script to my own mom - There is an entire post developing in my brain - dedicated to you and your awesomeness.  I can never thank you enough for everything you've done.  Love you.)

10 years ago today...

Take another walk with me down memory lane.  10 years ago today, I was 42 weeks pregnant...yes, forty-two.  I was as big as a house and slightly depressed that I could no longer wear any maternity clothes other than a pajama -- which was made of polyester.  That wouldn't have been so bad except for the fact that I was living in Saudi Arabia and the temp on that lovely day was around 35*C (or for my American friends, 93*F).  I was large, I was hot, and I was swollen.

However, I had a doctor's appointment that morning.  The previous 2 weeks I'd gone I was told "You're 3 cm dilated, you'll have that baby any day now!"  I'd stopped believing my doctor and her enthusiasm.  This time, I walked in and her face dropped, "You're still pregnant?!  Get out of here, go to the hospital, it's not safe anymore!"


So, merry me, I took along my hospital admittance papers and we drove to the hospital.  I walk in, all cheerful and happy and "yay we're having a baby" only to be stopped by a nasty old doctor who just dripped evil.  "I don't care if you're 50 weeks pregnant," she cackled, "you're healthy, the baby's healthy, go home!"  Then she got on her broom and flew away.  Well, not really, but that's essentially what I imagined.  :(

I softly cried to myself and began to waddle my way out of there, leaning on Mr. Delusional and trying to keep my wits about me.  And then a nurse came up behind me and said, "Dr. McWitch is off duty at 5, why don't you come back at 530?" and I heard the angels sing.

So we went home.  We were in the midst of moving from a 2 bedroom to a three (literally across the hall from one another, it was the kind of thing where you pick up a piece of furniture and move it to where you want it in the other apartment...no boxes or packing or any of that hogwash, so I moved some stuff around, Mr. Delusional got the bed put together and I took a nice, long nap.  Later on, we had some supper and then drove back to the hospital.  Dr. McWitch was gone and a new doctor was there.  She smiled and said "Of course we can take you.  There are a lot of women who are laboring right now, so you can just rest in your room until it's less busy."  I loved her.

I got to my room, read a little bit...painted my toenails....read some more...then they delivered a supper to me...it was 7pm.  They gave me a full chicken breast, mashed potatoes, gravy, a cup of tea and a small can of pop.  I inhaled it all.

Finally, around 1030 they were ready for me.  They wheeled me upstairs, we argued about how to induce (I wanted them to break my water...they said it was dangerous, etc, etc.  I eventually got my way).  Shortly after 11, they broke my water...the doctor tutting all the while.  I had instantaneous and very strong contractions.  The doctors and nurses decided to have a tea, because I was going to be "a while" before I delivered.

Around 1130, I told Mr. Delusional that I had to push. He pushed the call button.  The nurse came in with her tea cup in hand and said, "Oh, you're not ready to push yet, Mama, but I'll check you..." and she proceeded to lift up the sheet covering my legs....at which point here eyes popped and her tea cup dropped and she shouted, "Doctor!!  She's crowning!!"


At 1135, my beautiful baby girl was born.  Very white, very chubby (those extra 2 weeks in utero really showed) and very, very hungry.

Happy 10th Birthday to my beautiful Iman.  Love you forever!

What Next?

So, as if my life hasn't been stressful enough lately - with my last class forcing me to look within myself to places I'm not really comfortable going and then talking about it in a public forum (sort of -- it was for all my classmates to read).  Then the cost of this Mexico Practicum just keeps skyrocketing (passport fees, immunizations, travel insurance, etc) I hadn't really planned on these additional expenses....Then, to top off the list of monetary woes, my bursary for school ended...2 weeks before the new course was up to be paid.  :(  Ahh...such is life.

Then there are the issues around the house - the leaky sink (now fixed) and the broken dishwasher (still broken) which means that I'm still doing dishes by hand.  This breaks my heart....and wears away my skin.  No kidding here folks.  Check it out -- those are the fingers of Yours Truly, and the skin is literally sloughing off.  It's a very unpleasant feeling.  I tried doing a home hand treatment that I have called Instant Manicure, when that didn't work I tried another one that I'd forgotten I'd bought but discovered way back in my drawer BeautiControl Paraffin Treatment (no, this isn't a Beauticontrol ad, I swear!) Anyhow - that one worked a bit, but it's still bugging me.  If you have suggestions on how to fix this, please let me know (it's only on my hand that holds the sponge...weird huh?)

So, as if all of this wasn't enough, on Friday, Isaac started complaining about his sore throat - again.  This is the eighth time he's had tonsil issues in the last year.  It's frustrating...I tried putting it off, hoping against hope that it would go away - it didn't.  Then, this morning when Adam woke up he had spots all over him.  Big, red, itchy spots.  My mind instantly went to the irrational Bed Bug paranoia that I have.  I tried to brush it off, but by supper time, the spots started developing little rings around them...not a good sign!  So off to the doctor we trudged...Isaac indeed has tosillitus, and Adam?  He's got chickenpox.  Yeah...chickenpox.

What's coming next?  I only have 4 days left before I leave - please, dear God, please let them go smoothly!!

Dishwasher Woes

I've mentioned before about the issues with my dishwasher.  My lovely Mr. Delusional fixed it many times and has made me a very happy woman each time.

This time however - it was beyond his fixing abilities.  Sometimes it was filling, sometimes it wasn't.  There was no rhyme or reason to it.  We pulled the whole thing out thinking that perhaps the hose was kinked, but nothing worked. I gave up and have been doing dishes by hand for the last week or two.

Yeah, you read that right, I have been doing my dishes by hand!!!   


I know that there are people out there who don't have dishwashers and my complaints, to them, are likely whiny.  I did dishes by hand for far too long.  I hated it.  So, when we moved to our house and it had a dishwasher, I was in Lazy Hethr Heaven!  (too bad it also didn't come with maid service....ahhhh... that would be so sweet!)

Anyhow - back to me and my whining.  I've now been doing dishes by hand for a few weeks.  With the daycare kids here, that means that I usually do about 4 or 5 loads of dishes a day.  I. Hate. This.

So when I woke up this morning and saw the big red circle around today's date on the calendar, I did a little squeal of glee - today is the day that the dishwasher repair man was coming!!  The kids and I spent the morning coloring and baking and waiting for the moment the door bell would ring.

Finally - around lunch time, the van pulls up - the kids swarm him and the poor man is bombarded with questions:

• What's your name?
• What's in the bag?
• Why do you have a band-aid?
• You're not allowed to wear shoes in Hedr's house, you gonna take them off?
• Why do you have an orange screw driver?
• Can I see your screwdriver?
• Oooh - he has a flash light!  Can I play with your flashlight?

It went on for quite some time. Eventually I was able to feed them, wash them up and put them to bed -- meanwhile, Mr. Repair Man is tinkering around.  At this point, he's taken apart the entire machine - front cover is off, bottom piece is off, racks and screws and bits are all over the place.... and he's on the phone.  I hear him say "I've tried everything, I just don't know what's wrong with it."

Uh...so not the words I wanted to hear, hun!

A few (5) phone calls later, he's figured out the issue, and has to order a new part (water intake valve and also a new mother board 'just in case') and he leaves.

I still have no working dishwasher - I have to wait for the part to arrive and for a new service call to be booked.

Hethr's not happy.

It's only Monday and my Eye's Already Twitching

I thought that I would have a myriad of posts during spring break...however, it was quiet here.  My mother came and took my kids for 4 days (yes, all three kids for 4 whole days!) and with one daycare child sunning himself on the beaches of Cancun, another too little to cause much disruption, and the third happy to have me all to herself, it wasn't that bad.

Mr. Delusional and I enjoyed some much needed husband/wife time together as opposed to the usual mommy/daddy thing.  There's a difference.  A big one!

Anyhow - my mother eventually brought my kids back (yes, she had developed a bit of a twitch!) and soon after, my chosen son was back here (nicely tanned and full of stories) we were back into the swing of things.  Again, it wasn't that bad because my older two were here and each on loves to be the little mother hen to the daycare children. I was more like an observer than a caretaker.

However, all blissful things must come to an end.  Spring Break is over and we're back to our daily routine...and we didn't miss a beat.  Iman and Isaac each asked to be woken at 530 this morning to exercise with me.  No, I didn't bother waking them that early (I'm not that delusional!), but thought I'd wake them at 630 so we could have breakfast together.  That didn't happen.  They slept through their 7 am alarm....they slept through my 715 "wake up, you're going to be late" and their eyes barely flickered at my 730 "get up now before I get mad!"

We then had the mad dash for "I have nothing to wear" and let's not forget that "there's nothing to eat."  Eventually we got through the hair combing, face washing and teeth brushing and they were off.

Apparently that was the sign for Adam and the daycare kids to go totally psycho.  They fought over toys, they fought over noise, they fought over spots to sit, they fought over who was fighting.  It was horrible.  Then, as if someone waved a magic wand, they were nice and wonderful again....and a little while later, it was back to the fighting.  Needless to say nap time came and there wasn't even a fight to get into bed.  Everyone was very happy to crawl under their covers and grab some much needed sleep.  

They should be waking up soon - I'm hoping they're in a good mood -- we're off to hop in puddles regardless of smiles or tears!

Spring Break

Spring Break is coming.  Just 4 more sleeps.  Grandma has promised to take my lovely, sweet, innocent children.  All three of them.  She offered to do it for the whole week.  We'll see how long that lasts.

Now, I'm going to pretend that grandma doesn't read this blog and just write what I need to say.  So, Grandma - Close your eyes, exit the page, or just fain innocence when you see my lovely offspring.

They are fighting.  My daughter is very much a girl and fights with venomous words spat out in anger, while my son is very much a boy and uses his fists.  I'm not happy with either - but also realize that they are siblings, and as such, they will fight.  Meanwhile, Adam screams and whines and cries to get his way.  All in all, I'm running on that last little thread that's holding me together with sanity...and they're bringing scissors.

So, in an act of desperation, I called my mom for help.  She says "Tell them that Grandma says that they can't come if they don't behave -- put a star on the calendar so that I know...."

Well - this is all well and good, but they don't seem to give a rat's behind.  But -- I'm so close to digging burial plots in the back yard that I'm willing to lie to my lovely mother in order to have a little bit of peace in my life.  I'm THAT stressed.  Right now, I feel like a failure as a mom.

I got an idea!!

That's what I hear a lot now these days.  Whether it's from Adam and his chosen brother, "Hey, I got an idea...let's build a tower with the lego!" (and there's always such genuine enthusiasm when they say it) - or my older ones who have some crazy ideas....it's a common phrase these days.

Last night, while cleaning up from supper, I hear my lovely daughter say, "Hey, I got an idea and it won't even hurt......well, it might hurt a little bit, but it's gonna be so cool!"

Needless to say, I dropped what I was doing and rushed into the living room where I see Iman trying to convince Isaac to let her hold him with his stomach on her head while she spun him around - she called it a Human Helicopter.

sticky eyeball toy

When that idea was put far, far out of everyone's mind (and hopefully, but not likely out of existence) we sat down to a nice bedtime snack of Oreos and milk.

Today, Isaac comes home from school and he's gotten a ball as a prize for some reason that I don't understand.  Anyhow - this wasn't a bouncy ball, it was a sticky ball -- remember those sticky hands things we had as kids?  Or maybe the sticky octopuses that you'd whip at the wall and they'd creep their way down?  Yeah, it's that kind of material -- only it looks like an eyeball.  It's a little creepy, but right up Isaac's alley.

So, he's been playing with it all day long: showing the daycare kids that he can "defy gravity" because it sticks to his hand...or trying to toss it from one hand to another....you get the idea.

After supper, he decides that he needs to wash his sticky eyeball ball...he does - and is thrilled that it was even stickier than before.  He decides to throw it up...high...and of course, it gets stuck to the ceiling.

I hear trills of giggles and laughter - and then a "You need to tell mom!"
"no, you tell her!"
"no, you threw it, YOU tell her!"


after a bit of a pause and probably more fighting back and forth that I couldn't hear, Isaac pipes up with: "Mo-om...My eye is stuck to the ceiling!"


Mr. Delusional came to the rescue - he lifted Adam up to the ceiling where he reached up and pulled ... and pulled ... and pulled -- that stupid sticky eyeball must have stretched a good 4 inches before it finally came off.

And that, my friends, is a glimpse into the craziness that I encounter in my daily life.

Thank GOD, it's Friday!

I have had a rough week.  Sometime in the middle of Sunday night, someone came and switched out my kids.  They took my lovely, sweet, (rather) well behaved children and replaced them with fight-picking, screaming, whining demons.

Why?  Why did this happen?  I have absolutely no patience for it.

Adam's been rude and mean and pushing/swatting/shouting at everyone and everything if he doesn't get his way.
Isaac has been defiant (so out of character for him) - and Iman's been both clingy and screaming for her own space.

I'm tired.  I'm frustrated.  I have a bunch of homework to do, I have to finish preparing for my trip to Mexico and I have the homework that's associated with that as well.  I really want these last few weeks away from my kids to go nice and smooth....but it's not.

I'm just praying that we'll ground ourselves this weekend and start fresh on Monday.

Big Words and Little Mouths

Back around Christmas time, my chosen son's father was building a super secret gift for his wife (a shoe shelf!).  I'm assuming that chosen son was around while the piece was being built because he was suddenly taking the hammer from the Little Tykes tool station, banging the wall and sporadically shouting, "Dammit!!"

Mom and I worked hard at eradicating this word from his vocabulary.  However, children being the lovely little sponges of learning that they are, Adam quickly picked up on this fascinating expression and began using it himself.  He'd say things like "Stop saying 'dammit,' dammit!" or "Dammit, (child's name) said 'dammit' again!"

So, while I worked hard at ridding it from my chosen son's vocabulary, I worked just as diligently at wiping it from Adam's.  It seemed to work well, I don't recall them saying it much past mid-January.

It must be understood, however, that we are dealing with children...more specifically, we are dealing with my Adam - a boy who shines a new light on the antics of childhood.  We'd been dammit-free for a little over a month when today, Adam got upset that I wouldn't allow him to munch on chocolate covered almonds for supper.

That's right, I am an evil, horrible mother who doesn't let her kids eat chocolate for supper.

Obviously enraged by the deprivation of all things chocolate, Adam runs a loop through my kitchen and living room screaming in frustration.  He stops dead in front of me and with tears in his eyes shouts, "You Dammit!!"


It was so wrong of me to do, but I laughed.  I laughed until I cried.  This just made him even more angry, but I couldn't help it.  I laughed and laughed and laughed.

In the end, we talked about the whole issue and how that's not a word that nice people should say...then we ended up having popcorn for dinner.

What?  Is popcorn not a complete meal?

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

I'm sure that I've mentioned before my love for all things Seuss.  I love his stories, I love his art.  I love the messages that many of his stories send, and I love, love, love that his writing still inspires young readers today.  Dr. Seuss books are fun, engaging and (in my untrained and personal opinion) help children learn to read without any effort.

Since today is his birthday (and it's almost over, yikes!), the kids and I decided to have a Dr. Seuss Day.  We started off by reading some of his books: my personal favorite is The Cat in the Hat, but we didn't leave out One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish or Fox in Socks (another one of my favorites!).  We played a Cat in the Hat inspired game called Cat in the Hat I Can Do That!- which is so cool and so much fun.  We had the kids as young as 2 and as old as 33 playing and laughing and winning (we all won, of course!)

However, the day just wouldn't have been complete without our Green Eggs and Ham - this is one of the first books I ever remember reading.  One magical day my own daycare provider was flipping through those pages saying "I am Sam.  Sam I am" and it just clicked.  A whole new world had opened up for me and I was hooked on books.

Anyhow - I digress.  We read (a very worn and tattered version) of the Green Eggs and Ham and then got down to the dirty business of making and eating our own green eggs and ham.  Well...green eggs and turkey ham.

We started off with eggs...separated the yolks from the whites....you'll also need green food coloring (my picture is crooked, and I'm too darn lazy to fix it....live with it peeps!)

Then, I added a few (4-5) drops of food coloring to the whites and mixed it up. (oops, another upside-down pic!)

I put the green whites into the pan, and then topped them with the yolks.

While the eggs were cooking, my daughter helped to paint the (turkey) ham...just a little food coloring and water (a few teaspoons).

Once it was all together, we had us a "Green Eggs and Ham" meal!!

Now....to think on how to make something equally cool tomorrow.....

Saving my Sanity

So -- probably 2 years ago, I went all Flylady crazy and bought a bunch of her stuff.  The dusters, the "control journal" -- and a little book that she recommended called Saving Dinner.  I browsed through it, got distracted -- and left it at that.

Well -- after being sick of the same meal every week, I decided to give it another go.  I figured I didn't have much to lose.  If you saw my recipe book collection, it would become painfully obvious how many I've tried, and how many I've given up on.  I'm tired of trying and putting all this effort into foods that the family doesn't eat.

So, I pulled it off of my book shelf, blew off the dust and took another look at it.  I'm into week 2 of  using this - and let me just say, this book is awesome!  She has her recipes set in different seasons (so a winter, summer, spring and fall group)  She has a weekly menu complete with side dish suggestions (that's what always gets me when I make a meal!).   She has a grocery list -- nicely divided up into categories for you (such as produce, dairy, meat, etc).  Best part -- So far, it hasn't taken me more than 1/2 hour to cook my meals, they are healthier than anything else they would have eaten before AND most of the time, most of the family likes it.

That's saying A LOT.  You see -- if it were up to my kids, we'd have Spaghetti every night.  I'm lazy - so I'd rather just "cook" cereal.  Hubby's picky and likes his 4 square...it's a never ending battle!

I've been really sneaky with my meals so far.  I've told the family that we will be using this book for the whole year, and that I expect them to let me know what they think of each recipe.   We are rating it on a scale of 1-5; where 1 is please don't serve me this nastiness again!! and 5 is oh my God, I've died and gone to heaven!!  So far, most meals have been a 4.  That's something considering the range of picky eaters that we have!

We've had amazingly yummy things like Tuna Fusilli (sounds horrible, but was so good.  the kids each gave it a 5!), Sweet Bean Burritos, Herb Crusted Chicken Piccata (This was fabulous -- even though it was a little more black than nicely browned -- lol!), Ginger Beef, Romano Turkey Burgers (mmmm!!!), Fish Nicoise....etc...

It's been FABULOUS.  It's been fun to find some of the things on her shopping lists (like Neufchatel cheese....even the deli manager didn't know what it was -- but a quick google search told me I could easily substitute Cream Cheese).  Kale is a vegetable that I'd never heard of or even knew what it looked like -- but  the produce boy showed it too me...I was dubious when cooking it - but it's now my new favorite!

Her book has a bunch of recipes (also quick and easy) in the back for side dish options - BUT -- even better - she has "serving suggestions" listed under each recipe.  Things like "a big green salad and some roasted red potatoes" -- and she has those serving clearly marked on her grocery lists so if you don't want to make something, you can simply leave it out.

The menus serve 6...as in 6 adults - so we always have left overs.  My own family is eating fabulous, but my daycare kids are eating just as well - as the left overs often make it to their plates for lunches.  I nearly fell over when my little daycare girl (a very picky eater) ate 1/2 a chicken breast and a side of spinach and squash and then asked for seconds!

Yup, I'm sold.  I love this book.  I think you should try it.  Give it an honest to God try.  She only has 5 menus/week - so you still have the option to make an 'old favorite' or go out for dinner, or whatever.  So, my lovely readers -- if you'd like to check out the book, the link to it on Amazon is up near the beginning of the post, and my fellow Canadians - you're link is below.  I think the only complaint that I have is that it's written in US measurements (like "buy a 15oz can of ___") where as in Canada, everything is in grams.  It takes a little math okay, Google searching, but is oh-so-worth it.