Am I the only one??

Let me set the scenario for you:

• You walk into the kitchen and see crumbs all over the floor.
• You start to sweep the floor, find a bath toy under the table and decide to put that bath toy away.
• You get to the bathroom and see your towels that you'd piled up to take to the laundry, you decide to finish that job.
• When you get to the laundry room, you remember that you need to take out some meat for supper.  You take out the meat and head back upstairs.
• You walk into the kitchen to defrost the meat and see that your floor is still full of crumbs and you can't imagine how you can possibly be working all day long and still get no work done.

This isn't a one time thing.  This happens to me all the time.  Whether it's putting things away, preparing supper or even taking a shower (I once lost my bath towels.  Mr Delusional found them on the kitchen counter next to my coffee cup) I lose track of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.

I started thinking about this as I ran downstairs to get a hand towel (which were sitting in the laundry basket unwashed because I forgot to put them in the machine after remembering to take the meat out for supper) - and I had this whole post written up in my mind.

I came and sat down at my computer all ready to write it up and then....couldn't remember what it was I came to the computer for.  Was I searching for a recipe?  Was I needing to check my email?  Why was I sitting here??

True Story peeps.

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.

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...

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.

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.

A Festivus Friday Vent

My girlfriend Magz, had a facebook status this morning bragging about  rubbing in  talking about how wonderful her day was going and it wasn't even 8 in the morning.  Because I hadn't yet had my morning coffee, I was in a delusional haze and decided to comment about how my day was also going stupendously.

What an idiot I can be!

Why would I think that I could talk about how great my children were behaving?  Not 20 minutes after writing that little tidbit, they started fighting.  All I hear is, "Don't touch me....give it....stop looking at me....you're bugging me..." (need I go on?)  Also, for some reason, Adam has decided that instead of using words today, he'd much rather just put on the whine.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it before, but whining is one sure way to drive me directly to the loony bin.  I hate it.  I feel myself turning into Gargamel.  It's horrible - but there's nothing that I can do about it.  Me + Whining Children = The nastiest thing you will ever see.

So, combine this nasty freak of nature with my moody husband and I tell you, it was nearly the start of World War III here.  Can you believe all this because I asked him to be quiet during nap time?  (no, conscience, I don't think that the readers need to know that I over reacted to his obnoxious antics and said "If you wake up the children I'll kill you!!!" why would that have any affect on the support my lovely readers have for me??)

So now I'm sitting here, stubborn and angry and just wanting someone (Mr. Delusional) to bring me flowers and say sorry (even though I should be the one apologizing).

I lost it...

"I lost it"


You will not believe how many times I have heard that from my sweet middle son.  He loses his pencils, he loses his lunch, he forgets his back pack, or forgets to change out of his indoor shoes to his winter boots...he just forgets and loses things.

Last Monday, he came home from school saying that he'd lost his snow pants.  I didn't freak out or anything, because every once and a while it happens...mittens, snow pants (which all look the same) will accidentally make it home to someone else's house, only to be returned the next day.  So I didn't really think much of it.

By Wednesday, they hadn't been found.  I was irritated, but know that the end of winter is near (and I also have his old pair here)...he was going to need a new set for next winter anyhow...so didn't really take it any further.

On Friday he comes home and there's the normal chaos and craziness that happens when the kids arrive - this day, it's amplified because "Uncle" was here.  We play, we eat dinner and then we need to take Uncle back home.  Isaac gets ready and he's wearing a winter vest with a hoodie under it.  He NEVER does this.

"Where's your jacket?"
He puts on his most winning grin, "Uh....I...uh....lost it?"
"What?  How did you lose your jacket??"
"I don't know, but I think it's on the hill at school."

I'm still at a loss as to how you lose your jacket in the dead of winter, but I digress.  We delay the trip to Uncle's place and drive the route the kids take to/from school.  We stop at the school (at the hill) we look in alley ways, we look on the road.  There is no sign of his jacket.

Yay.

All weekend, the weather has been great, so the missing jacket wasn't that big of a deal.  Yesterday, his job was to go to the school to search the lost and found for it (and hopefully the matching snow pants too!) -- It wasn't in the lost and found box.

Oy.

This morning I wake up and the weather is -10*C (that's 14*F for my American friends) and the forecast was that it was to get steadily colder all day long.  A vest over a hoodie will not do.

So, it's 8am, I'm scrambling up and down stairs looking in bins and boxes and hoping and praying that I can find a jacket.  Every year, I donate their old winter gear -- but I didn't remember doing it this year....the old jacket is nowhere to be found.  I have toddler whining because his Frosted Flakes are soggy, I have daughter whining because she doesn't know what to wear...and Isaac is trying to convince me that the vest will be okay.

I find an old jacket of mine.  He looks like he's playing dress-up.  He starts crying because he doesn't want to wear an "old lady" coat.  A light bulb goes off and I call my friend/daycare mom -- she's got a son the same age as Isaac.  I managed to catch her before she left and she shows up with 2 jackets.  Yay!

I forgot that her son is tiny!  The sleeves are short, the waist is short - but alas, it's a jacket.  Then he goes to put on his snow pants....and I do a double take, "Those aren't your snow pants!  Who's are they??"

He's got someone's size 12 snow pants.  He wears a size 8.  He's swimming in them!  I tell him to make sure they get back to the rightful owner and send him off -- my son -- pants 4 sizes too big, and a jacket 2 sizes too small.

We have another 1 1/2 hours until they come home.  What do you think are the chances that he'll come home with his own jacket??

I has a stress

Yup - I admit it, I am NOT superwoman.  Today did me in.  Here's the reason why:  I woke up.


This is how my day went today:

• Wake up at 6am.
• attempt to spend the hour before my children wake up getting some reading done.  Failed because I spent it cleaning.
• Make lunches for the kids and Mr. Delusional.
• Chosen daughter arrives for the day, wants toast. I make it. She doesn't eat it.
• Children wake and finally get dressed (after 1/2 hour of nagging)
• feed all the children, get them washed up and out the door for school.
• Search for the walkie-talkie that has seemingly disappeared. (still lost for what it's worth)
• clean up breakfast dishes.
• put in a load of laundry.
• Chosen child arrives for the day.  He's talking a lot lately. 
• Adam and chosen toddler go off in a toddler talking duo.  It's funny/cute.
• Chosen daughter takes them "to the beach" - they must wear winter gear to the "beach"
• On their way to the beach, they find *insert suspenseful Jaws-type music here* an electric piano.
• yeah.  I was thrilled.
• The three children play with said piano at it's lowest volume setting (which is just a few decibels under bleeding eardrums)
• Yeah.  I was even more thrilled.
• They are happy though, and I can tell, because I can occasionally hear their squeals of glee when there's a momentary pause in the music.
• They are all running loops around my basement as they "dance" (hey, it's cold, there's not a lot of things they can do to get rid of the energy)
• They did the running/squealing/high-pitched piano playing for two hours.  Yes...Two Hours.
• Lunch time!  Yay.  Quiet.
• Chosen daughter refuses to eat anything except for her naked noodles.
• Nap time (otherwise known as bliss)
• During nap time I clean up lunch dishes, sweep, put in another load of laundry, finish my passport stuff, print off some papers for school, sit down to finish the Unit I'm working on now...and then relax.
• My tea kettle hasn't boiled yet - and they all wake up.
• They find the piano (how on earth did I forget to put it away??)
• We're back to the piano music/screaming like banshees.
• I lose my patience and shout at them (and take away the piano)
• they pout.
• I feel bad.
• Chosen toddler talks my ear off for the next 2 hours.  Like non-stop talking.  As in never stopping.
• I give up on feeding my kids a real supper and just tell my kids to eat a bowl of cereal instead.
• Argue with Iman about her homework.
• Get invited out to a movie (with an adult!!) - but can't go because hubby has to work late and I'm here with the kids.
• Shed a tear because I know I could have had a conversation that did not include the words: Iggle Piggle, penis or poop.
• Now - I'm simply waiting.  Waiting for them to pass out and hope and pray that I get a little "me" time. God, how I need some me time!

Just call me Mrs. Brady -- why are you laughing?

So, I'm on a new kick...I wonder how long it will last.  I have a fairly clean home (except for the never ending dust - God how I hate dusting!) and have been keeping on track with my cleaning routine (thanks to Flylady - if you've never heard of her, you may just curse me) and have been cooking relatively decent suppers thanks to a whole lot of cook books (my favourites are Company's Coming, but I've got tons of different ones).

Kitty Forman - She's like a super happy version of me

Why doesn't my family appreciate this though?  Monday I made a Hungarian Stew, it was good -- but my picky kids wouldn't eat it.  Actually, Adam was digging right in until Isaac said "I....don't really like this" Then all hell broke loose and no one wanted to eat.  It makes me want to scream when I go to the effort of cooking and no one eats it.  Moe and I ate it (really, it was good!) ...and then were "mean" because we wouldn't let the kids eat cereal instead of the perfectly fine meal on their plates.

Tuesday I made Pastito - I love pastito...you get pasta without a typical Italian pasta taste -- likely because it's more of a Greek dish.  It was heavenly -- and again, Adam was happily chowing away when the older two "didn't like" it.  I nearly stabbed them with my fork.  Again, they went to bed with "nothing good" to eat.  Whatever.

In anger - last night I refused to make anything.  Yup, I let them gorge on cereal...what do I care?  I was mean and nasty and grumpy all day (but damn, my house was clean -- because I didn't give up on that!).  Then I started feeling bad -- these are growing kids, they need more than carbs and milk to get through the day.  So, I went onto Allrecipes to find a nice healthy and hearty breakfast for them.  I chose an oatmeal - it's cold here, I thought it would warm their bellies and stick to their ribs.  I wake up and gather the ingredients (this one had egg -- odd, no?) I happily am stirring away and the kitchen is smelling like a warm cinnamon hug....it was great.  I spoon the oatmeal into their eagerly awaiting bowls...they take a bite....and -- you guessed it "I don't like it"

And I'm a bit like Lois on my bad days...

I was enraged, but quietly made my own bowl....this stuff was NASTY.  The people on the site all gave it a near 5/5...what the hell were they on?  It was friggen disgusting!!  I've made my own porridge/oatmeal before - and it was delicious...this was the equivalent of hospital grade oatmeal with a dash of cinnamon.  *gag*

So - I've decided that I'm done trying to be Mrs. Brady -- I'll settle for Kitty from That 70's Show with a side of Lois from Malcom in the Middle.

The Dishwasher Bandit strikes again!

Yup, it was almost a year ago that I had issues with my dishwasher that my wonderful husband tore my dishwasher to bits and fixed it.  This time, only the dishes on the top rack weren't coming out clean. I figured that it was blocked by bits of corn or something (why is it that corn doesn't get mashed to bits in the little garburator?  What's so magical about corn?  Mind you, it does come out of a human looking much the same as it goes in, doesn't it?)

Well, after days of nagging that finally ended in threats asking politely hubby finally listened took it upon himself to fix it.  Out came the racks, the spinner blade thing (yes, I'm very technical, aren't I?) and other bits and bobs to look for the offending blockage.  It only occurs to me now that I should have taken pictures.  Oh well...I'm sure that there will be a next time.

First thing that we find is a pen for a DSi.  For those of you that don't know what I'm talking about, a Nintendo DSi  is a little gaming system (think Gameboy, only modern) -- they have these stupid little stylus/pens that get lost all the time.  I think that this is how Nintendo makes it's money... Anyhow -- first we find a white stylus...then a few date pits...and olive pit or two, a red stylus...Donatello's mangled forearm...and finally a black stylus.

So, as hubby pulls each item out - he's grumbling louder and louder.  After retrieving the last stylus, he shouts, "Who put these things in here?"  To which Adam excitedly replies "Oh, Me, Me!  I did it, daddy!!"

Please don't ask me how these items got into my dishwasher without me noticing.  I have no idea myself, and quite frankly, I don't pay all that much attention to the inside of it.  I just load it and turn it on.  Silly me, forgetting that I have the modern equivalent of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes running amok in my house -- I should know better than to assume that things will be running "normal" in my house.

Dear Universe, What have I done? - with updates

Today was one of those days where you just feel like Karma is out to get you.  Ever have one of those?  I should have seen it coming, but didn't.

• First, toddler freaks out because he didn't get to pee in the toilet before his brother.  I don't understand it either, so don't ask.
• Then, middle child freaks out because I wouldn't let him take the Nintendo to school.
• Then, daughter freaks out because she can't do her hair or get the toothpaste out of the tube.
• Hubby complains about his sandwiches lately (apparently, the meat is "stringy")
• Chosen children think my snack is "gross" (cheese, crackers and dill pickles, what's the issue with that?)
• Chosen toddler and my toddler quickly resume their toddler take downs after 3 days apart.
• Chosen child doesn't eat lunch.
• Chosen toddler has a nightmare at nap time and spends the next hour whimpering and shaking on my lap (poor guy!)
• I spilled my tea all over my school work.  No ink to reprint.
• 2 of 3 children arrive home from school.  This is an issue, as there is one missing.  How did the other 2 not notice this fact?
• 4 children and I don our coats/hats/shoes/mitts and dash to the school as I am in a panic on the phone as to the whereabouts of my lost daughter.
• She's found, in the office, crying because she thinks she lost her brother and chosen sister.
• We walk back...with my hefting two 30+ pound  toddlers on each hip.
• Luckily, I remembered to set my alarm.  Unluckily, I forgot to lock the back door which my son opened in his bid to get into the house first.  I was still 1/2 block away.
• Alarm goes off.  Son hides in his room.
• My new neighbors must think I'm crazy as I set down the toddlers to run to my house which has a blaring alarm.
• My new neighbor is surely convinced that we are all crazy as my toddler runs by and says, "Hi! My butt hurts. I need a band-aid on it."
• My new neighbor is even more convinced of my poor state of mental health as my chosen toddler shouts, "Oooh! Pretty Back Boobies mommy Hedr!!"
• Finally in the house, the next issue happens when chosen toddler picks up his juice cup and promptly spills cold juice down the front of his body - shirt, pants and socks are soaked.
• The cold juice so startles him that he falls off of the chair.
• The fall shocked him, and he cries loudly.
• At this time, daycare mom shows up to pick up her daughter.
• Eventually, child, juice and table/floor are cleaned up.  But there are no spare clothes for him.  I have to find some that fit - and the only ones have my local hockey team on them.  Dad hates the local hockey team, but that's okay, because dad rarely comes at pick up time.
• Just got a message that dad is coming to pick up.

Can it be bed time yet??

UPDATE

• wrote a message on a friend's Facebook wall and everyone thought I essentially called her fat & ugly (okay, they were just joking, but still -- what was with that message?  THINK before posting, Hethr!!
• toddler woke up in the middle of the night with a night mare.
• I brought him into bed with me.
• He peed on me and my freshly cleaned sheets.

what a week

So, this week has been interesting to say the least.  First I had my imagination get the better of me and convince me that I had bed bugs (plus side to this, my house has been cleaned from top to bottom --- there is not a dust bunny left here, let alone imaginary bed bugs!).

For those of you who don't follow me on facebook (and what's with that, huh?  Join us, we have fun there!) - you'll know that my kids have sent me to puke city and back.  My son came home from school, went straight to bed, and proceeded to barf all night.  Now -- if you've read the above paragraph, you'll note that I just finished cleaning my house (including all the linens) -- well, I had to do the boys' room all over again...because the little man got it too and they both managed to puke in the bed.  Nasty!

After the boys started feeling well enough to jump all over one another and snag granola bars from the pantry (they think I don't know that they do this...silly boys!) -- I got sick.  I got sick, sick, sick.  The kind of sick where you're hot and cold and sore and just want to curl up and die.  So...I suffered through that for a bit....only lasted the majority of the night, and I now feel right back to normal again.

This morning, I woke up, went to make coffee -- and realized that I was out of coffee!  If any of you heard that strange sound this morning, it was the tortuous screeching of my soul as it learned that we'd be functioning "sans caffeine" today.  Luckily - a daycare parent saw my status on facebook and brought me a nice fresh cup of Tims....mmmm....Tim Hortons.....yum.



Moose 1, Dino 0

 Then, I decided that since everyone is feeling better, we'd be going out to the Jurassic Forest that I've talked about before.  We get there (first ones!) and there's a crew set up with wheel barrows and electrical wires and other assorted tools.  They proceed to tell me that some of the dinos may not be working because a moose attacked them.  Yeah...you read that right.  A moose went on the rampage and attacked some of the dinos!  I would pay some good money to get some video of that incident.  There were only 2 dinos that weren't functioning, and 1 brontosaurus that had a tail being supported by a ladder type thing...the others were being worked on and the guys would turn them on for the kids as we passed.  The kids asked what they were doing, I told them they were cleaning up the dino poop so the forest wouldn't stink -- they thought that was great.  I'm not really sure what was going through the workers' minds as my daycare girl repeatedly said "Thanks for cleaning the stink!"

So -- that's my week in a nut shell -- how was yours?

Warning - Job Rant

I love my job, I really do.  I love the chosen children that come into my life every morning.  I love the extended "family" that I get every day...

BUT...

I really wish that parents would respect my rules.  I only have 3 daycare families right now - 2 of whom are fabulous and the other one just doesn't seem to get it.  I don't have many rules for parents...really...how hard are these to follow??

1.  Please don't bring outside food in -- it's brought anyhow.  I'm not talking the tail end of a piece of toast or whatever was eaten in the car on the way here -- I'm talking a full out bag full of snacky things.  I mean, I have more than enough food to feed these little munchkins all day long.  When you bring in food from home, guess what -- it causes Tiny Toddler War.  Your child may not be the toddler, no -- but the fruit loops that she brings are akin to dropping an atom bomb in my play room.  I work hard to ensure that the children get tasty, nutritious food.  Stop sending your kid here with CRAP.

2.  Please don't bring toys from home -- yes, your little doodle-shnuckums loves her teddy bears and barbies with 1000s of pieces.  I don't.  I also don't enjoy the search for said toys at the end of the day.  Nor do I enjoy the fighting over said toys during the day.  Nor do I like the "Look at my new toy, isn't it beautiful? DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH IT" that comes out of your princess' mouth.  Nope.  Don't like it.  Do you realize that I have an entire basement that is devoted solely to daycare?  Do you realize that I have teddy bears, dolls, barbies, kitchen areas, books, cars, blocks, puzzles, crayons, paper, glue....and thousands more things here that are more than enough for your kid to play with.  Please tell me why you need to bring another thing in here?  And don't get mad at me when I can't find the stupid toy and refuse to look for it at pick up time, because, you know what?  I told you not to bring the damn thing in the first place.

That is all.

a week with my toddler - Update

Just some of the things that I go through in a week with my lovely, spirited, wild child.

Monday, after a really tough day, he came up to me saying "mommy help, boogie" which as you may have figured out -- he needed a Kleenex.  So, I sigh, grab one and tell him to blow.  He gives it a couple good shots and then I see it.  It's not a boogie in his nose...it was a wadded up gum wrapper.  He'd balled it up and, for some reason that I cannot begin to fathom, shoved it up his nose to live there for a while.  I know it's been a while, considering that the last time that we'd had any gum was on the Friday before.  Nice.

Tuesday, I was still in a bit of a funk, but Adam didn't seem to care.  Rather, he'd discovered a tear in my couch (along the top, behind where the back rest cushion is) -- apparently, this was fantastic, because he proceeded to dump his bin of dinky cars in there.  One by one.  I thought that he was lining them up on the back there...it wasn't until he said "Oh...Crash!" that I was alerted to his game.  Out of a bin of 200 dinky cars (yes, I know there are 200 there, possibly more), I didn't find out his dastardly scheme until there were only about 50 left.  I was left with the decision to leave my couch full of cars, or cut the bottom dust cover thing off to rescue them.  I still haven't decided what to do - the cars are in a "mom limbo" at the moment.

Wednesday we had an invite to the school.  They were doing a Welcome Back BBQ.  We went for burgers and cake -- and of course, got to tour the class rooms and meet the teachers.  While I was busy chatting up the teachers, Adam ran along from desk to desk, filing his pockets with crayons and erasers from the children in my son's classroom.  Sweet.  I get to send Isaac to school the next day with other people's possessions and a shameful note of explanation.

Thursday I realized that I wasn't down in the dumps because I'd been in a funk, nope, it was my body prepping me for the inevitable - the first cold of winter (and yes, I can sadly say that winter has arrived.  It snowed here.  Not in my city, but so close to it that you may as well say it was here...and it didn't stay, but still - we don't usually get those snows until mid-late October, and the snow doesn't usually start staying around until mid-November or so)  Anyhow - I was feeling sick, and because I'm a great mom when I'm sick, I wasn't about to cook my kids a meal.  It was an "eat your left over lunch, pick a cereal or starve" kinda deal.  My daughter figures that she'll be a great help and make popcorn for supper.  I lay on the couch in misery while they munched away downstairs.  Adam spilled his bowl, and rather than pick it up, he stepped on it, crushed it to bits and then pushed it under the couch.  My wonderful daughter decided to vacuum it up for me.  She's sweet that way.

Friday has just started, but he's already into a very "toddler" mood of Everything-That-I-See-Is-Mine.  I'm praying to make it to nap time - by which time, Grandma should be here to save the day.






Update 1  (yes, I'm leaving this open...I've still got a good 2 or 3 hours left before bedtime)- today (Friday), my sons' newly painted bedroom got a bit of a face lift by a graffiti artist who goes by the name of Little Adam.  And by "a bit", I mean, the entire length of a single bed from as low as he could reach to as high as he could.  He also did it in about 1.3 minutes flat.  With three adults in the home and only two children here for me to watch (including the artist himself), I'm still not sure how that happened.