Sunday, December 29, 2013

Report from Florida

I don't even have anything funny to say.  But Jessica is RELENTLESS.  Somebody should tell her about Google News or one of those mommy-blogs where they post all the time.  Probably because they get paid.

We are in Florida right now.

So, obviously everybody is sick.

Chris and I and the kids usually sleep in the same room, but due to low Florida attendance this year, for the first three days, Chris and I got our own room.


And then that ended, and I was reminding why it is so horrific to share with the kids.

Sam grinds his teeth, which is a lot of fun.  Not as much fun as it is to wake up to Lilly patting my face and telling me that I am the best mom ever.

Aww.  That adorable.  Now shut up and go back to sleep.

When she isn't telling me I'm magnificent, she's waking up screaming.

And Owen, well, he's a great sleeper, when he's not weeping about being forced to sleep with Lilly in the same room.

Sleeping children are so peaceful.

On T.V.

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The first morning of vacation, Owen woke up with little dots around his mouth.

The next morning, Lilly woke up with little dots around her mouth.

And, then, SURPRISE!  Sam woke up with little dots around his mouth.

The doctor said she would treat it, because it might be contagious.

You think?

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The weather has been relentlessly good this year.

It's a lot of pressure, actually.

Jeez, sun, can we get a minute to go outlet shopping?

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Holiday funtime parade of joy

Today was insanely stressful for no goddamn good reason.

Chris went to a football game so I was on my own with the kids.  Which is fine given that they are my children.  It's just that we are used to doing things as a family on the weekends which gives us a parent to child ration of 2:3, or dividing up, giving us a parent to child ration of 1:1 and 1:2.

But today was 1:3.  Which becomes a problem when you organize the day as if you are at a more favorable ratio.

This morning, I packed everybody in the car and we went to the Children's Museum.  Sam haaaaaaates the Children's Museum.  Life is sooooooo booooring.

We'd been there for about 20 minutes when I suddenly remembered that Lilly had a class at Little Gym.  Those classes are about a million dollars per session, so the thought of missing one was upsetting.  It was 11:30.  I knew another class started at 11:45.  We were about 15 minutes away.  This could work.

So I called the Little Gym, got the go-ahead to attend the different class, and then gathered the children.

"Mooooooom.  I don't waaaant to leave," says Sam.

Oh for Pete's sake.  I told them we could come back after the class.

Look, I had to say something to get them out of there, and kids have the memory span of goldfish.  It's not like they would actually want to come back.

That right there is what you call "foreshadowing," my friends.

Also, I don't know if you noticed, but that timeline from a few paragraphs up? Do you see where I went wrong there?  I estimated the time as if we were ALREADY IN THE CAR.  By the time we got to the car, it was 11:41.  Also, who the hell am I kidding?  The Little Gym is 20 minutes away.  Always has been, always will be.  WHY do I continue to believe I can get there in 15 minutes?

So I'm driving and I'm all hyperventilating about being late and some part of my head is saying, "Hey, calm down.  We're talking about a gymnastics class for three year olds.  It is not a big deal."

But my heart was saying  "IRRESPONSIBLE!!"

So we went, and got back in the car to go home and OF COURSE the children remember my earlier statement (lets not call it a promise) about going back to the Children's Museum.

I look at the clock.  It is about 1:00, and we have to be at a party at 3:30. Plenty of time to stop back at the Children's Museum for a bit and then get home, eat lunch, take baths, get dressed and get to the Christmas party.


Bathing three kids by yourself is a weird thing.  They can't share a bath because they splash and someone will inevitably get pushed into the faucet.

But if you want the whole process to take less than a million hours, you have to be simultaneously washing a child and getting the last child dressed.  Which is hard when you are only one person.

Then I had to get myself dressed, and at this point, the stress level had reached Red Alert, so I put a soothing song on to play.  Which is how I know that the kids gave me exactly 2 minutes and 48 seconds before they started screaming.

It was an emergency.  Like someone picked up an abandoned toy to play with that did not, historically belong to them.

When we finally got going we were soooo late.  So of course I got lost many times, many ways.  Merry Christmas, to you.

The party was fun, but Lilly started begging to leave about 45 minutes before we actually did.  She was nearly hysterical by the time we started the drive home.

And of course I was driving home, in the dark, alone with three children, and my phone died.


And Lilly's in the back seat:

"MOM.  Why is it DARK.  MOM.  Why aren't we HOME?  MOM. Why are we out so late?  MOM. I'm so TIRED.  MOM.  Why did you DO this?  Where is DADDY?  I miss DADDY.  MOM.  It is so DARK.  I'm SCARED.  MOM.  Can I eat my treats?  MOM!  You NEVER let me eat my treats.  Do we have to go to BED?  We already went to bed LAST YEAR."

But, as a parent, I'm not even mad at today.  Because nobody threw up.

Things that are normal for regular people are sinister for parents

I got home tonight and Chris said, "Owen is asleep on the couch."

Oh shit.   Shitshitshitshit.

Asleep on the couch is no good.  No good can come of this.

Children do not ever ever ever fall asleep unless they are about to throw up, or have just thrown up, or a combination of the two.

He didn't want anything to eat.  He didn't even want to WATCH T.V.

I'll keep you posted, but I don't have high hopes for our near future.


Friday, December 6, 2013

Lesson #1 in comedy

"Owen," I said, "I don't understand why you like this show.  It doesn't make any sense."

We were watching Oscar's Asicks ("Oscar's Oasis for those of you who are technical about words).

This is a ridiculous show where unpleasant animals in the desert fight about stuff and get hurt in a Wile E. Coyote kind of way.  They don't speak, or do anything of substance.  There is literally no dialogue, just pratfalls and old-timey cartoon torment.  Entire episodes will be taken up with a lizard trying to get a strawberry and the buzzard that stands in his way.

It bothers me.

You can't even pretend it's educational.

"Like right now, Owen.  All of a sudden there are a bunch of chickens.  Why are there chickens?"

He doesn't even move his eyes from the screen as he says, in a tone that clearly conveys he is exhausted by my stupidity, "Because chickens are always funny."

The thing is?  He's basically right.

Thursday, December 5, 2013

When babies go wild

Jessica texted me today and told me I needed to write another post.

Look, I offered everybody here a chance to guest post, but the sign up sheet remained quite empty.

So I bought the kids an advent calender.  But it didn't come until the 4th of December.  I told the kids, in a slow and clear voice, they they each had to take a turn opening a door.  One kid per turn, one turn per day.  EXCEPT today, when we would open four doors at once to catch up.

Okay?  Does everybody get it?


There will be ONE door opened everyday, which means only one kid gets a turn.  Except, for TODAY ONLY, we will open four doors.


That means Sam will open a door, Owen will open a door, Lilly will open a door, Sam will open another door, and then there will be NO MORE TURNS until tomorrow.  When there will be ONLY ONE TURN.

Got it.

So we opened the four doors, and Lilly has said, approximately every half hour in the 24 hours since then, "You forgot to let me open my second door."

Today, when I got home, chaos was ensuing.  Sam explained that Lilly bit Owen and now they were both crying.

Some people might think that Owen would be crying louder, but that was not the case.  She was WAILING, "It's ALL MY FAULT!"  And I was like, "Well, yes, I can't argue with that."

And Owen's over there on the couch all, "hey, I'm the one with teeth marks."

She was all kinds of upset, so I didn't really feel there was a lot of point in yelling, but you can't just BITE people.

So I said, in a serious voice, "You are not allowed to open any doors on the advent calendar tonight, Lilly.  Only Owen can."

Which was AWESOME, because it was totally true ANYWAY, but she was devastated.  She would have been devastated anyway, but now she thinks I'm a strict, hard-line, no-biting, parent!  WIN!

Until tomorrow, and the rest of the 17 days of December.

Side note, when Chris came home, we told him what happened.  Chris said sternly, "Lilly, you are not allowed to bite."

And Lilly said, "I didn't BITE him, I just BIT him."

And Chris said, "Yes, you are NOT allowed to bite.  It's dangerous, and it hurts people -

 - "I didn't bite him, I bit him," Lilly interrupts.

"Yes," Chris says, "You can't bite."

"I DIDN'T BITE him, I BIT him."

Oh stop it you two.

"Lilly, you are not allowed to bit either."