Day 52---a thousand words

As a Mom, I am apt to have a picture of one or all of my kids on my phone's "wallpaper." After letting my eldest borrow it to play "Sketchman" I got it back with a new "wallpaper."


  This is a priceless display of what it is to have a 9yr old boy.

It's the crook in his elbow....

Day 51....mutha f'n pistachios

"Mom!" Our youngest shouted, "We are learning about Kings and Queens and Lords and Ladies and Olden Times!"

"I know," I responded, "Did you want to tell your brother and sister some of the rules for eating properly as a prince and princess?"

"Yes! You have to put your napkin in your lap, and you cannot eat until the Queen takes a bite, and you cannot get up from the table until the Queen is finished, and...." he trailed off bored with his own wisdom and migrated towards the TV.

Meanwhile, the other children were circling the kitchen, packing their lunches and trying to say "apple" while holding their tongues---have you tried it? It doesn't quite come out "apple," more sounds like a term for  the place from which poop plummets. Anyway, while this was happening the large CostCo size bag of pistachios hit the ground and covered our kitchen floor... not unlike a small mollusk mosaic.
And I just felt very entitled to release a "GOD DAMMIT!" displacing all my daily frustration.  Thus the kids looked at me like "ooooh....you just said a bad word...we're gonna tell...."  And en lieu of apologizing, I, Mother of the Year, chose to make this a continued moment of shock and awe...

"Yes. I did.  Shall we all say whatever words we're dying to say right now?"

Their eyes doubled in size, as did the grin on their face, and all 3 of us (the youngest was MIA) sat amongst the sea of pistachios and began to giggle and swear.

"Shit!"
"Piss!"
"Asshole!"
"God Dammit!"
"Dick Ass Man!"

"Woa. That's a loaded one." I said caught off guard by my 9 yr old's enthusiasm.

"No. That's someone's name. Really. It's Dick Assman."

"That's terribly unfortunate," I replied remembering that I thought I had heard that before.

"Okay. Is it out of our system?"

"One more," said my son, "Getting giddy with fear and excitement."  He glanced over for approval.

"Nows the time. Get it out of your system, and then lets move on. You guys know that these are not words you use, right?"

"Right" they answered in unison.

Sitting back on his heels he pulled his elbows back as if revving up and opened his mouth wide and let out a "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU......CK."

It wasn't even angry... it just felt dangerous to say. We then cleaned up the pistachios and had a relatively pleasant dinner, not unlike the Lords and Ladies from "Olden Times."

ummmm...14 days later...

Day 1:
Where to start...is it a morning at the preschool when a tiny dish of tiny silver beads spills not once, but twice in a matter of minutes? Destined to serve as a strategically planted distraction by the charming little child who would then coat himself in paint while my hands were filled with tiny hazards?

Day 2:
Or is it trying to do laundry without having to re-wash or re-dry the same loads?

Day 3:
Or is it trashing our house by hosting a play date with multiple friends to appease our depraved children on the day before we have company arriving?

Day 4:
Perhaps it's finding out that the IRS wants our kidneys?

Day 5:
Or that in order to keep driving our car we need to put $$$$ in to it?

Day 6:
Or is it picking up a child from school only to learn that a friend that we just had over whacked him in the face to be funny?

Day 7:
Maybe it's the daughter who whines and pulls and whimpers for us to get in the car as soon as possible so she can immediately start the homework that she would like me to do?

Day 8:
Could it be the epically stoic meltdown of rebellion when asked to please set the table?

"Please set the table, it's your turn tonight."
"Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrgrggggg!"
"I already put the place mats out and the silverware is in a pile on the table. I just need you to put the silverware in the right place with the napkins."
A few clink, clanks, pinks, and plops were heard. And I re-entered the dining room. My "helper" was gone and the silverware was placed in a way that Picasso might have envied.
"Can you please come back in here?" I called out.
She returned like a battered, mute prisoner.
"I will show you where the silverware should go on this mat and then you can do the rest."
She gave me her best Ally Sheedy Breakfast Club glance through her bangs, and I returned to the dinner I was burning.
We ran through this cycle twice more...and then had dinner.

Day 9:
Or the eery declaration by our 5 yr old that "dying is sad, but burying people is fun."

Day 10:
Per chance it was the tooth fairy whom arrived on time, left money despite the fact that the child left teeth on the dresser instead of under the pillow and still left the child disappointed. "I wanted Daddy to see the tooth! Can the 'tooth fairy' " he said gesturing with finger quotes around the title, "still show him?"
"Yes," I said discovered and defeated though still willing to throw in a third person reference, "I'm sure she can."

Day 11:
Or the time sensitive tantrum that occurred minutes before we had to be somewhere else, involving the immediate need to remove a "meow" from her Build-A-Bear Kitty. "I want to make her meows myself!" she pleaded through tears.

Day 12:
Maybe it was the moment in which while I was making dinner, our eldest child started singing his multiplication homework, to the tune of "Gangham Style" which he put on loudly in the background, while our daughter pulled at my arm and pleaded for him to turn it down as she needed to focus on learning how to tell time on her homework, as our 5 yr old started break dancing with the dog, on the floor, in the middle of it all.

Day 13:
Or could it be the endless coughing virus that has plagued the state of Colorado?

Day 14:
Or the swift removal of said "meow box" at the mall 3 days later and then promptly losing our 5 yr old.  Perhaps that is where to start....

I would like to thank the mall security at Chapel Hills Mall.  You gentlemen do a fine job and I feel better knowing you are there. I will do my best to keep my son chained to my body from now on as he terrified me greatly by disappearing into thin air at the exact same time a single man sitting at the mall also disappeared. Yes, I am profiling. He was white, single, and at the mall. It was scary. I had, for the first time ever, that feeling that our life as we knew it was over and we were going to become a tragic CBS special or a Dateline topic. I wanted to vomit. And as I ran over to the woman at the smoothie kiosk, who promptly called security, I feared that she would not be able to help me.

She quickly got on her cell phone and calmly explained the situation. She then pulled the phone away from her face and asked, "Is he wearing a black hoodie, with a nike swoosh?"
"YES!!!!!!!" I could not believe it. It was the lotto. We won.
"They're bringing him down now."
"Down?' I thought to myself. "Jesus, how far did he get?"

I wanted to drag him out of that mall by his ear, but it was clear he had gotten pretty scared on his own. Although the sucker and stickers that security gave him didn't hurt.
As we walked through the mall to get back to our car, he proudly wore not one, but two mall security sticker badges, displaying to all the impression that his mother had lost him not once, but twice.

Day 37---"Mom has never been THIS confused"

"Mom has never been THIS confused," said my son as I pulled on the school doors...again.  My face was still scrunched and perplexed as I pressed my nose against the window to confirm that the dark school really was closed.
"Huh?" I said looking around at the empty street.
"Can we wait in the car?" Our shivering children asked holding their coats in the wind.
"Sure," I answered slowly looking around.  "Is it really closed?" I said out loud to myself.
I looked on my phone for school closures. On the site I chose, it had no information. I looked around... again. Peered in the window... again.

And then a horrible thought crossed my mind.  I started searching my phone for news.  Did N. Korea flip out?  Is this a nationwide lockdown?!

I couldn't find any info, so I called our friend who's child was next in line to be picked up for the other school, in a different district.

"Hey!"
"Hi!"
"So...."
"All the schools are closed."
"Seriously?!"
"Yea," she started laughing.
"Yea, I'm at one..."
"Oh, no!"  Laughing harder...
"What's going on?"
"Snow day."
"SHUT UP."
"Yup."
"It's a WIND DAY. Not a SNOW DAY."
"There's supposed to be snow coming.  And I guess they are worried about black ice."
"Ummm...the roads are fine."
"That's too funny."
"Okay then. Well, happy snow day. This is crazy."

I hung up the phone. Instantly, the kids asked if they could have friends over or go to a friend's house.

I paused, and then said, "No.  Apparently we are having a big storm, so everyone is staying home. No one wants to get caught out in the storm."

It's almost noon, and there is still no snow.

I want to be a weatherman.  The only job where you can consistently give misinformation and not get fired.  I'm rooting for you though, weather people, and I'm determined not to leave the house...just in case it snows.

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

So instead of school I'm trying to get Spotwise, who is getting into "treats" out of my "office."

Day 36----while you were in your "office"

Dear Todd,

I regret to inform you that while you were in your "office" this morning for an extended period of time you missed the grand event that took place on our second floor.  There were tickets involved as it was "invite only" and the dress code ranged from black tie to tragically chic. Remarkably, we all found something we could wear.
Are you dying from the suspense?

It was the Spring Line 2013 Spotwise (The stuffed leopard) Fashion Show.

She strutted down the multi-taped 8.5 X 11 paper runway in an array of outfits synchronized to themed music.  Her acrobatics were phenomenal. Clearly she's a pro.

Despite the challenges of a stuffed leopard fashion show, the only real obstacle was the audience.  The younger gentlemen who escorted me to the event, had a hard time sitting still.  They had a strong urge to "mess" with the stuffed leopard.

This came out in different dance moves, an occasional push-up over the runway, or some sort of Russian kicks mixed with break-dancing dangerously close to said runway.

Through much discussion and physical restraint the show went off without a hitch. Though I do think an increase in security might prove beneficial for the 2013 Fall Line.

I'm gonna go make a cup of coffee now, and then lock myself in my "office."  Tag. Your it.

Day 30--35...Dear Flu Virus

I'm calling you the Flu, because otherwise I don't know what you are.  You are by the far the worst intestinal, fever inducing, body-aching thing I as an adult have yet to experience.  Being on the other side of it now, I must say I feel quite triumphant, but am nervous if you might continue to grow stronger off of those you have not yet killed.

As I've been talking with people, there are many of us, apparently enduring your assault.  And those of us all seem to have one thing in common.  We have no "sick days" in which someone else steps up to fight the good fight.  What this means is we are trying to schedule your attacks on our bowels and intestines around pick-up, drop-off, meals (which often causes gag-reflex issues, acid reflux and some inner mouth vomiting just in the preparation), bedtime and any other thing that might HAVE to happen in order to keep our kids occupied and fed.

I'd like to address two things with you, Flu.

1. Ya picked Easter Eve?!?!?!?!  Please add to the above list of scheduling the responsibilities of said Easter Bunny. Fucker.

2. And secondly, thank you---yes, thank you, Flu---take this one as I will never thank you again. But thank you, for assaulting my husband simultaneously thereby allowing a side-by side comparison of two (the mommy and the daddy) enduring the same illness at the same time.  While horribly painful, and our home is a mess, I believe this simultaneous occurrence is as rare as spotting a leprechaun.  And it is this way so that the battle of which gender is tougher while sick can continue.  My dear Flu, the gift you gave me among all the horror and destruction was a white flag--waved by my spouse, as I assembled baskets, cooked Easter dinner for the kids and hid every egg.

In the words of Miss Piggy, often quoted by my five year old son, "I'm a woman! I am strong!"