One reason I don't have girls

I always assumed I'd have girls.  Or, at least one girl.  Someone to play Barbies with, someone whose nails I could paint, someone whose hair I could French braid (I can do a wicked French braid).  Someone to play dress up with.

(Okay, I admit I played dress up with the 8-year-old when he was 6 months old.  He looked... like a boy in a dress.  It wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be.  [And, don't tell him I did that.])

So, God had other plans for me.  He gave me the boys, he gave my brother the girls.  I find it quite amusing that my brother has all girls.  Beautiful, beautiful girls.  My brother, in his youth, was quite mean to the girls.  He's a good looking guy and all the girls liked him.  And he was kind of a dick to all of them.  In return, he liked the one girl who was a dick to him.  Go figure.

Anyway, at least I have my nieces to play dress up with and French braid their hair.  I am fortunate enough to spend a lot of time with my nieces during the week and indulge my inner girlie girl.

Today, friendship bracelets were on the agenda.  Remember these things?



They were all the rage when I was a kid.  I remember I spent an entire summer making these with my friends.  They, like us, were pretty awesome.  So, I got a little excited when I told her we could make these.

And then I tried to remember how to make them.

My niece has a Friendship Bracelet KIT.  A kit.  When I was a kid, we'd just go up to the local craft store and buy tons of different colored thread and make up our own designs.  Nowadays, kids can't think on their own, so you have to tell them, in detail, how to do everything.  What could come in this kit other than the thread, I thought.

Instructions!

As with most instructions, I felt I was reading Chinese.  What the hello is a number 4 knot?  I consulted our good friend, YouTube.  Okay, now I knew what a number 4 knot.  Back to the instructions.

Make a backwards number 4 knot.

Ugh.  I don't remember it being this hard.  My bracelet looks like dreadlocks on a white person.  Just a tangled mess that no amount of conditioner will help.  Just, no.  Give me an epic Lego battle any day.  Let's blow fake shit up.  Why can't we just make normal braided bracelets?

I can even French braid it!              

A rainy day at our house

So, that muthafucka Mother Nature screwed me again yesterday.  I had all kinds of fun outdoor activities planned for us.  Instead, the skies opened and vomited rain all over my fun.

Pretty picture?  Imagine how I felt.

We started off the day with a failed science experiment I got from my good friend, Pinterest.  In theory, it should've worked.  I understood the science behind it.  I explained the science behind it.  The kids were excited to help.  But, after it didn't do what I said it would do, they quickly lost (P)interest.  So much for that. 

Then came the rain.  At first, it consisted of a few big fat drops.  Those?  Are fun.  I pushed (with force) cajoled the children into staying outside during this period.  These kids are turning into pansies.  I mean, who doesn't have fond memories of playing in the rain?

After some time, they realized the error of their ways and I thoroughly enjoyed watching them (from the safety of the front porch [there comes an age when getting wet isn't fun anymore, mIright?]) ride their bikes, splashing through puddles.

The weather, of course, got worse, so we had to come inside.  That meant 5 obnoxiously loud (I love them individually, but, altogether?  They are loud.) children were running amok through the house.

My solution?

A movie.

You bet I did.  In my defense, I had 5 children running amok in the house.  Enough said.

And then came the fun part.  After the movie was over and the young one went down for a nap, I made the older kids do homework.

Heh.

I bet Mother Nature will think twice next time about messing up my children's day.     



 

It's the final countdown

So, we're 2 weeks away from the first day of school.  What the what happened to our summer??  Remember when I had all these big ideas for the Hap Hap Happiest Summer.  Ever?  Yeeeaahh... next time I promise something idiotic like that, I'll have to check the summer weather forecast.  While we've had some superfun days, with the rain and cooler temperatures, it hasn't been the summer of our dreams. 

But, what's done is done.  And now we have to switch gears and get into back-to-school mode.  We'll still play hard, but we'll have to work hard, too.  Remember when the principal said our kids get stupid over summer?  Well, I'm not letting that happen, nosiree.  I've been playing on Pinterest researching ideas to get the kids back to thinking.  Math games!  Writing prompts!  Science scavenger hunts! 

I?  Am awesome.

And?  Someday, they'll thank me.  Right now?  Notsomuch.

I'll admit I am secretly looking forward to the kids going back to school.  With the 5-year-old starting Kindergarten (all-day!), I'll have several hours to myself during the day for the first time in 9 years.  I won't even know what to do with all this free time.

I can do any and all of the following:

1.  Run.  Every.  Single.  Morning. 
2.  Write a blog post daily.
3.  Clean behind the refrigerator and stove.
4.  Rearrange my sock drawer according to color and use.
5.  Read an entire book in a day.
6.  Get a haircut.  And color!
7.  Make a delicious, well-balanced meal, using nothing processed or packaged.

What I most likely will do:

1.  Watch all 5 of the Twilight movies in a day.
2.  Rush around, tidying up the house, removing all traces of the snacks I've eaten over the course of the day.
3.  Shower.
4.  Make pasta for dinner.  With a bag of carrots as a vegetable.
5.  After helping with homework and putting the children to bed, complain about how tired I am.

It's going to be great!

   

A battle between good and lazy

You guys?  Parenting is hard.  I love them both so much, sometimes I think my hugs will pop their heads clean off.  And, of course, I worry all the time that we're doing a terrible job and, someday, it's all going to come back and bite us in the ass.   

We have good days, bad days and Epic Fail days around my house.  It's a slippery slope we're on every single day.  Who knows what kind of humans we're molding?  A day can change everything.  They're either going to cure cancer and, in honor, name the cure after us or blame us for everything wrong in their lives, put us in a dilapidated nursing home and NEVER.  SEE.  US.  AGAIN.  Or... you know, something in the middle.  The most we can hope for is that they turn out to be a better version of us.

And maybe they'll visit me at a (bright, happy) nursing home on Mother's Day.

Yesterday, the planets aligned and we had one of those days where, if Parenting were a class, I would've gotten an A.

Okay, A-/B+.

It started off like any other day.  We woke, we ate, we watched TV played enriching games to stimulate their brilliant minds.  My brother was in town this weekend, so we invited the family over for brunch.

While we were busy getting the food together, the boys started fighting over The Blanket.  This is the coveted blanket in our house.  Everyone wants it.  So, last Christmas, I bought us another Blanket to end the fighting.  Unfortunately, my little monsters took the second blanket to the basement and now there's only one on the main floor.

Me (to 8-year-old):  Go downstairs and get the red one.
Him:  NO.
Me:  Uh, yes.
Him:  NO.  No, no, no, no, no!

Oh, I wasn't having any of that shit this morning.

Me:  Either go downstairs and get the blanket or go to your room.
Him:  (nothing.)

Then the husband stepped in.

I love my darling husband.  Really, I do.  But, he has a tendency to, um, overpromise and underdeliver on threats.  For example, he'll say things like, "Do it or you're grounded for a month."  And then let the kid off the hook an hour later because it's haaaaaarrrd to enforce punishments.

Now, it's no secret I lazy parent.  I love my boys more than anything, but I admit I have a hard time staying engaged.  There's only so many Epic Battles Mommy can have a day.  Aaaand Mommy likes her Facebook and Pinterest.

I'm all for extreme punishments when warranted.  You intentionally cut your little brother with a shiv you've made out of a Lego piece?  You get points for creativity, but you're grounded (and may require possible stint with a child psychologist for anger management).  But, grounded for a month for not doing me a favor?  Probably not.  

Anyway, the husband stepped in and grounded the 8-year-old.  For the entire day.  Mostly because the 8-year-old kept talking back.

(finger wagging) Oh no, he di'n't.

So, fine.  Kid was grounded for the day.  And guess what?  We enforced it!  All!  Day!  (fist pump!) He was allowed to eat (and even then, it was only bread and water, damit), but he stayed in his room all day.  I even made him start on continue his summer homework!  Of course, this probably wasn't a good idea in retrospect (hence, the B+ grade I've given myself), because I don't want him to associate homework with punishment.  But, he likes to write (love that about him!), so I had him write about his favorite summer day.

Surprisingly, he didn't pick this day.

At 5:00, we let him have his freedom, as promised.  Lately, I've been trying to instill the idea of "good choices".  After talking it over, he agreed that he probably made a poor decision by not helping me out and would do it differently if he could.

Score:  Good Parenting 1, Lazy Parenting 0.

While Kid #1 was in prison, I invited Kid #2 to take a bike ride with me.  My 5-year-old has worn the training wheels on his bike to the metal.  To add to that, he doesn't even use them.  Every once in a while, you'll hear the metal scrape of those wheels as he rides.

Me (to 5-year-old):  Let's take the training wheels off.
Him:  No.
(side note:  why was everything a no today?!)
Me:  Yes.  Let's just try it.  If you don't like it, we'll put them back on.  (Read:  We are NEVER putting them back on.)
Him (after thinking for a minute):  Okay.

Enter husband (because I don't know how to use tools).  He took the wheels off, pushed the 5-year-old to get him going and off went the 5-year-old into the wild blue yonder!

Me:  Wait!  Come back!

We took a ride around the block.  The kid is a natural.  He strut around the house like a rooster, telling everyone, "I can wide a two wheelew."

Score:  Good Parenting 2, Lazy Parenting 0.

Today, on the other hand, started off good.  We played a couple math games (no, really!) and several rounds of Uno, but then it all fell to shit because I?  Touched the computer.

Now, the children are running amok and I'm too engrossed in my story here to bother with it.

5-year-old:  Mom, can I have some milk?
Me (distracted):  Sure.  You're big enough to lug the 2-gallon jug off the top shelf of the fridge, right?  And then pour into a cup, right?  No?  Well, be creative.

So:

1.  5-year-old (in PJs too small for him) loudly dragging kitchen chair across the room to fridge (me giving him the stink eye for interrupting my train of thought).
2.  Can't open fridge door because chair is in the way.
3.  Pulls back chair.
4.  Opens fridge door.
5.  Pushes chair back.
6.  Grabs 2-gallon jug of milk.
7.  Drops 2-gallon jug of milk.
8.  2 gallons of milk everywhere.

Okay, that's not what really happened.  However, I've been in front of the computer a while and it's awfully quiet around here.  I should go looking for them...

Score:  Good Parenting 0, Lazy Parenting 1,000,001

Life's a beach

My girlfriend invited the boys and me to visit, so, in the spirit of our hap-hap-happiest summer, another girlfriend and I took our 4 boys out there the other day.  My friend lives near the lake, in a summer-vacation-spot kind of area and we planned to spend the day at the beach.

Woohoo!  Day at beach!  Sand in every orifice!  Playing in water that fish have peed in (among other things) (not that it's much different from the water small children have peed in that we're used to)!  Water snakes!  Dead fish washing up on shore!

Wait.  Is that fish dead?

Yes.  Yes, it is.

Dead!  Fish!

It was an awesome time.  While we were 3 adults trying to corral 7 children in deadly waters, we were drinking delicious fruity beverages.  Alcoholic beverages, people.  Don'ttellmymother.







Look at these things!   They're like Capri Sun juice pouches for adults!  Love!

Anyway, after a few hours watching the kids scamper and cavort in the waves ripples, we decided it was time to go.  We packed up our stuff and drove back to my girlfriend's for dinner.

On the drive to the house, I realized I didn't have my wedding rings.

Sonofa.

I remembered I had taken them off to slather sunscreen on the boys (who wants dirty rings?) and had put them in my cover-up's pocket.  And, I could only assume, lost the rings at the beach when I put my cover-up back on.

So, while my one friend took all the kids home (and showered them - yay!), my other friend and I went back to the beach. 

My thoughts:  They'll be pretty easy to find.  All I have to do is find 2 shiny things on top of the sand where we had been sitting.  Easy peasy.

...And then we saw the family that had been next to us all day had built a mammoth sand animal in the 5 minutes we had been gone.

Of course.

My thoughts:  Forget it.  They're insured.  Let's go eat.

But my wonderful friend would not give up so easily.  She's a doer.  She's who I want to be like when I grow up.  After asking for permission to destroy the family's sand monster, my friend and I sifted through the sand.

Have you ever noticed how sparkly sand is?  Every time I saw something glimmer out of the corner of my eye, I got excited.  But, alas, it was just sand.  Stupid, stupid sand.  Everywhere.

Finally, I had to go talk to the clubhouse manager to see if a) they had a metal detector (no) and b) I could leave my name and number in case someone turned them in (fat chance).  Then went back to look some more.

When I got back to the scene of the crime, my girlfriend told me she, in fact, found one ring!  They WERE there!  I had been half hoping I had put them in a smarter place and would find them later when I got home.

But no.  I really am that stupid.

45 minutes (sifting through blazing hot sand) later, she found the other ring.  My friend saved the day!  And a phone call to the insurance agent (and the husband)!     
 
2 days later, I still can't believe she found them.  She's one of those lucky people.  I think I need her to buy a lottery ticket or something. 

We'll be sticking to the pool for the next few days.  Leaving the rings at home.

I'm becoming obsolete

I knew this day would happen.  Really, I did.  We even planned for it (sorta), finishing a room (twice) so they'd have a place to go without being too far.  I just didn't think they'd use it so soon.

I've lost my children to the basement.

You think I'd be happy.  I have the TV back!  No more Disney XD!  No more Jessie!  No more daggone Dog with a Blog!  No more Phineas and Ferb (I actually not-so-secretly enjoy Phineas and Ferb - more than the boys do, probably).

But, the boys are starting to not need me.  They can get their own breakfasts now.  And then they retreat to the basement.  Or, as my mother called it when we were children "the dungeon".  I spent time in my room (or, "the tower"), my brothers spent time in the dungeon.  We saw each other at the dinner table.  Or, possibly, on the way to the bathroom.

Is this the natural order of things?  Am I doomed to see my kids only when they have to pee?  Because that?  Is a real treat.

To add to that, the 4th of July has passed, which means our Summer of Fun is pretty much over.  And, while it's been the hap hap happiest summer they've ever had (of course), it has rained every.  single.  damday.  And we haven't had the chance to make wonderfully long-lasting warm-and-fuzzy family memories so I don't end up in a dilapidated nursing home.  Well, any memories other than the basement. 

Yay, basement!  The basement is awesome!  (Please don't put me in a home!)

Of course, because it's the Summer of Fun, we don't have true bedtimes.  Plus, it's hard to explain to the boys that they have to go to bed when it's daylight.

"No, it's not a nap.  It's bedtime.  Go.  To.  BED."

No concept of bedtime means lots more yelling at them (in the basement) to go up to bed.  (Please don't put me in a home!  Remember Summer of Fun!)

So, tonight, to help ensure at least one of them will take care of me when I'm old, we're having a slumber party in my room.  It's fun for them and they remember I exist.  And it helps with the "it's daylight" argument.  Plus, they enjoy all of us sleeping together.  I do, too.          

While I'm needed less, they still need me.  I'll take that for now.

Be careful what you wish for

So, remember when I signed up for a 5K?  Me neither.  But, I did.

For those who forget math conversions (read:  me), a Kilometer is .62 Miles.  Which means, a 5K is (5 times .62 equals) 3.1 Miles. 

My first 5K race took place over a month ago.  It was one of those color runs – a super fun event, even for not-real-runners (read:  me).  Looking back, it was kind of funny that I was so intent preparing for it.  Of course, training is always a good idea, but, well, we didn’t run.  So, there’s that.  In the end, I was glad we did it anyway.  It’s always fun to spend time with my college roommate and her family. 

And, more importantly, drink beer with her that night.  Woot woot!

A week after that race, my roommate and I planned to run another 5K.  This was going to be serious.  We were going to RUN.  And then, 2 days before the run, I had a suspicious mole removed from an area… that is sorta used in running, but, as far as I know, has never seen the sun.  Weird. 

Doctor:  Don’t do any lunges for the next week or so, until the stitches come out.
Me:  Um, I am running a 5K on Saturday.
Her:  Yeah, no, you’re not.

Okay then.  My roommate came to town to run the race anyway.  I cheered her on from the sidelines.  She did really well, too. 

Races:  2, Me:  0

I signed up for another race.  Damit, I’m going to run a 5K this year! 

From the beginning, my goal has been to run the whole damthing.  I’ve been running once or twice regularly to build up endurance.  (In my defense, we’ve had crappy weather in this area.  Rain + humidity [who knew today would have so many math lessons?] = a runner’s nightmare.  Or, a not-real-runner’s [read:  me] nightmare.)  And, I’m the queen of excuses, so if the dew point was above 50, I was sitting inside with the air-conditioning, a fruity beverage, and a good book  having the hap hap happiest summer the kids and I have ever had.    

But, yesterday was the race, so I had to do something beforehand to not die be ready.  2 days before the race, I completed a short run, a little over 2 miles in 22 minutes.  I thought a 10-minute-mile (okay, 10-minute-mile average, you math freaks.  Play along with me.) was pretty decent.  For me, anyway.

And I went into the race, stupidly confident.  If I can run 2 miles, I can run 3.1.  Right?  My SIL always says the first 2 miles are the hardest.  Once you get those in, you can run FOREVER.

Ugh.  Did I mention I’m an idiot?  So’s my SIL (love you, SIL!).

Honestly, the first 2 miles were okay – after the first 5 minutes (they’re always the hardest for me).  Would I much rather be on my couch, watching the Real World/Road Rules Challenge marathon?  You bet.  But, I paid the money and, deep down, I really wanted to do this.  I felt strong.  I had a good playlist going on my iPod.  I was going to rock this bitch.

Then came the 2 mile sign.  Good grief, wasn’t I done yet?  And (this is where it got bad) I got all in my head.  For those who run, you know what this is.  You’re thinking about which body parts hurt.  You’re thinking about how you still have 1.1… 1.0… .995 miles to go.  You’re thinking, “Man, it’s damhot out here.”  You’re thinking, “You know, it would be so. (gasp) easy.  (gasp) to.  (gasp) stop.  (gasp) running.  and… walk.  Just for a minute.”  You're thinking, "Your kids still need a mother."  And  "(Billy) Don't be a hero."

I’m disappointed to say I gave in.  Sometimes, I am strong enough to push through.  I’ll have days where I don’t think about it at all and can just go.  I wanted a day like that.

(shaking head sadly) Yesterday was not that day.

I finished the 5K in 34:00.  Now, I realize it’s not such a bad time to have for my first real race.  And?  It was 4 minutes faster than the last time I ran (read:  ran/walked) 3.1 miles.  (This is what “real runners” call a PR!)  But, I’m disappointed anyway.  Although, a runner friend of mine said I’m a real runner now because runners are never satisfied with their times.

Woohoo!  I’m a real runner!  (Fist pump!) 

Where’s the next half marathon?!