Diary of a Bad Mommy (Volume 6)

I feel like such a loser this morning. I didn't hear my alarm and overslept. When the phone ringing finally woke me up, it was 15 minutes before I was supposed to be in the car, taking Avery to school. All three kids were still asleep, I hadn't made her lunch, gotten anyone dressed. We could have eaten breakfast in the car (loser Mom, I know), but how in the world could I get us all dressed and ready in 15 minutes? I ran around in circles like a chicken with my head cut off, called a friend for moral support, and then gave up. I called the school and told them the truth. I'm a loser who overslept. They were very nice. They said it happens all the time, but that truthfully doesn't make me feel any better.
So, Avery is staying home today. I promise to read with her and teach her at least one thing today. I should be well-rested enough to teach her how to diagram sentences.

P.S. I just realized I accidentally stole a $10 item from Wal Mart last night. I am SUCH a loser.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

In case you hadn't noticed (or in case anyone actually had), I haven't been online much lately. It's not because I haven't thought about it. It's not because I didn't have anything to say. No, it's because I have headaches. And nausea. Unexplained, horrible headaches which lead to miserable nausea. My thyroid doctor told me to see a neurologist, but because that scares the bejeezus out of me, I've decided to diagnose myself. First, I started with minimizing my time on the computer. That seemed to help, but didn't fix the problem. So I went to the eye doctor Friday and he actually laughed when he examined my eyes. Apparently, my eyes are very imbalanced. He said "The muscles in one eye are working overtime to keep up with this eye." I immediately, almost shouting, asked "I don't have to wear an eye patch do I?" Thankfully, he said no. I just need some glasses. So much for the Lasik surgery I had 9 years ago. I would, however, prefer glasses to a brain tumor. So, I'll wear them. And gripe.

Anyway, I don't have the glasses yet, but since I'm pretty sure my problems are my eyes and not a tumor, I'm back in action. Pain and misery be damned. Actually, we just had a really great time at the Rangers game yesterday and I have, what I think, are some cute pictures I wanted to share. So, enjoy!

Here is our whole family, before the game. Aaron and I are both mortified at our double chins. Between the both of us, there are four chins. It's horrifying. Embarrassing. Motivation to keep up with this boot camp/torture I just signed up for. Just look at our children though. Totally worth it.

We had awesome seats, thanks to our good friends who gave us the tickets. Plus, it was an overcast day, so not many people came to the game. We had lots of room to spread out, which was great. Rhett and Reese got to watch the action up close.

Avery, of course, took it all very seriously. The game and the junk food.

I love this one. Aaaron bought them all these $5 mini-replica bats. Avery used hers to practice swinging when the guys were batting. Reese used hers for.....well, I don't know what she's using it for. I do know that she's holding it at the wrong end.

Reese's favorite part of the whole day was, by far, the peanuts. Aaron and I shelled so many peanuts, I'm surprised our fingertips aren't raw. She went nuts. Ha ha. Nuts. Get it? Peanuts? Nuts? Ok sorry, on to the picture.

Happy Monday!

Spare Toilet?

So what do you do with the cracked toilet after you remove it from your bathroom? It doesn't fit in the garbage can. I have no clue where there is a dump anywhere. For now, we have it sitting in the garage. Something tells me we are going to have to move it. Soon.






Yes, she really did it. What else could we say except, "Good for you?" That's all you can say when a potty-training 2-year-old actually uses a potty instead of her pants, the floor or the bed.

Exhaustion

I'm exhausted. Normally, I'm not one who requires a ton of sleep, but lately, it's gotten out of hand. Sunday and Monday morning, Avery was up at 5, throwing up. She was fine all day and all night until right around 5:15 both mornings. That was bad, but not as bad or strange as last night.
Last night, I started a fitness boot camp. This has nothing to do with the story except that it's hard for me to wind down when I work out at night. So I tossed and turned until almost midnight before I dozed off. I was up again around 1:30 and then again at 3. Around 3:30, I woke up to the sound of running water. I assumed it was a faucet and I lay there, debating with myself over whether I would get up to turn it off. Just forget it. It's not going to drive you crazy. You've finally gotten to sleep. If you get up now, you'll be awake for another hour. But, that's bad to waste water. You really should just get up and do it. Oh, for the love, you could have turned it off by now!
So I got up. To turn off the faucet. Except when I stepped onto the bathroom floor, I stepped in water. A lot of water. What the...?
The toilet was running. Water was all over the floor around the toilet. It must be leaking. Oh well, I'll call the Roto Rooter guy because he was the last one to mess with the toilet. Good. It will be free. Now, how to get it to stop? I lift the top of the tank off and pull on that ball/lever thingy. Nothing. Just more water flowing. And then I see it. An enormous crack down the back of the tank of the toilet. Water is pouring out. I say, very faintly, as if I don't really want him to see it, "Aaron? Honey? I need you." Nothing...just a snort from the bed. A bit louder, "Aaron? Can you wake up?" He mumbles and goes back to sawing logs. I finally yell, "Babe! CAn you get up? I need your help!"
He stumbles in, sees water and towels everywhere and says "What the hell?"
The towels are soaking it up quickly, but we know there's nothing we can do at 4 a.m., so he shuts off the water to the potty and we get back in bed, listening to the sounds of our bathroom being flooded. He says "I think we should have flushed it so it would empty out." We lay there for another 10 minutes, tossing and turning. I finally get up, flush it one last time, the water drains and the rushing stops.
Have you ever heard of this? I mean, seriously, a toilet just cracks and floods the bathroom in the middle of the night? I swear, my family has the weirdest stuff happen. At any rate, we're getting a new toilet today. Aaron wants me to go help him pick it out. As if I care what sort of toilet we get. As long as he doesn't come home with a hot pink one, I'm fine. But I'll go. And debate the elongated seat versus the energy efficient tank. Can't wait. I hope I can keep my eyes open long enough to NOT pick the hot pink.

Confessions

There are a few things I'd like to get off my chest, but none of them, on their own, is worthy of an entire post. So here goes:


1. I don't like going to the movie theater. Not because of the cost or because I have to wear a bra. No, it's because I cannot stand to hear people eat. Especially crunching. Ice is the worst for me, but popcorn is almost as bad. Just in case you are my friend and thinking that you will never eat in front of me again...eating with people or with the people in front of me doesn't bother me. It's when the crunching is happening to the side of me or behind me that seriously sends me into an epileptic fit.

2. I don't like to hear the phone ring. I love for my friends and family to call me, but my first reaction to hearing a ringing phone is "AAARRRRGGGGHHH!"

3. I love going to the grocery store. Everything about it thrills me. I love to clip coupons and buy things on sale. I love to compare prices of butter and cheese. I love to fill my basket with fresh produce and name brand items that I didn't get to have as a kid. I like to organize the items on the belt based on where they will be stocked in my house. I love to hear the beep of the checkout. And most of all, I LOVE LOVE LOVE to have a fully stocked pantry and refrigerator. It makes me feel like all is right with the world.
Sidenote: I used to want to be a grocery checker. I might be one right now if they hadn't gone to the automated beeper. I like the cash register. I used to pretend to use the cash register to ring up the items when my mom was putting away groceries. Sadly, this is one goal I fear has slipped through my fingers. Damn technology.

4. I love to smell my kids' feet. It cracks me up that even little babies get stinky feet. Go ahead, smell a baby's feet sometime. Right there, on the bottom, where the toes meet the feet. It's smelly, unless they just had a bath. I love it!

5. Getting massaged is my very favorite thing in the world. Actually, any rubbing of any kind on any part of my body is heavenly. And I don't mean that in a perverted way. If someone wants to play with my hair or tickle my back, they are my friend for life. I love it when Rhett sits and rubs my arm with his little chubby paws. I may have been a cat in a former life.

6. I cannot sleep unless my teeth are flossed. If I can't suck air through my two front teeth, I'll lie awake debating over whether or not to get up and floss or try to do it with my tongue or fingers.

7. On that same note. I never go to bed with makeup on. Ok, there was that one time in college when I had too much to drink, but usually, I can't do it. It's almost an obsession for me. I've tried. I want to be one of those low maintenance girls who just decides to go to bed and goes. Without a routine. It reminds me of a grandma to always have to clean my face before bed. But I can't sleep and it makes me gag when I see the mascara caked on my pillow and under my eyes in the morning.

8. I love to play poker. Online, with friends, in Vegas, anywhere. Ok, maybe I can't really afford to play poker in Vegas, but I've definitely played Shreveport or Kansas City. Actually, I like any kind of gambling, but mostly poker. And blackjack. I'm afraid I would be a gambling addict if we lived near a casino and if I weren't married to a somewhat level-headed gambler. And if I didn't want my kids to go to college.

9. I love celebrity gossip. I subscribe to US Weekly, not only because it's cheaper than People, but because it's trashier. But still acceptable and somewhat credible. I have standards.

10. I could spend $1000 in less than an hour in each of the following stores. (I dream about it all the time.) Barnes and Noble, Sephora, Ulta, Hobby Lobby, or Target.


That's all for now...but there is much more weirdness where that came from! Stay tuned!

The Dead Bird

I have to share with you this conversation between Avery and I that just took place. We are grilling salmon and planning to eat outside on our patio, so she and her dad are getting things all set up outside. She just walked in with the saddest, most pitiful face I've ever seen and said "Momma, there was a bitty baby bird outside and it is dead." Here's the rest of that little chat. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing at times.

Me: Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.
Avery: Yeah, isn't that sad? That poor little baby just got dead. Another bad bird got it dead because there is a hole in it.
Me: Well, I really hate to hear that, but at least now it's little soul can go to Heaven and be with God.
Avery: Nope. The trash.
Me: What?
Avery: Dad threw that bitty baby bird into the trash.
Me: Oh. Well, what else would he do with it?
Avery: How about just leave it there? How is that baby's momma going to come get it and take him home?
Me: Well, if the momma wants to find him, she will.
Avery: I'm going to go outside and say "Tweet, tweet, tweet" and let that momma know what happened to her baby.
Me: I think that's a good idea, Baby. I know it's sad, but that's what happens.
Avery: Yeah, I guess that's just what happens if you're a bird.

Maybe you had to be there, but it was quite a crack up. The solemn facial expression, the utter despair. It was one of those priceless conversations that I hope I never forget. That's why I like to write this stuff down...otherwise, I wouldn't remember yesterday.

Talking

I like to talk. A lot. My sister says my mom and I can yammer away for hours about nothing. I love to have a long gab session with Mom or a girlfriend when I'm not busy. I've always assumed that whoever was on the other end of my conversations was enjoying themselves as much as I am. However, something has been happening recently that has made me wonder if I'm annoying to everyone and they are all just too nice to let me know.
Let me clarify. No one has said or done anything to me that makes me think I talk too much. But I recently gave my number out to a lady who does, in fact, talk too much, and it's driving me crazy. She is a parent of one of the kids at Avery's school and she's very nice and she asked for my number in case one of us needed something on a school morning or something. Sometimes, if the weather is bad, we watch each others' kids in the car while the other takes her child inside. That way we don't have to get all the little ones out in the rain/cold. Here's the problem: She calls me EVERY school morning. I'm always in a rush to get all three kids fed, dressed and ready to go, and I use my drive time to run down the checklist to make sure I haven't forgotten anything and to talk with Avery about the day. I don't like to spend all my time on my cell in the mornings. I like to talk with her and get her prepared for the school day.
Apparently, this lady does not feel the same way. It's not that she calls that bugs me. It's the fact that she NEVER SHUTS UP that drives me nuts.
Let me give you an example. And then you can tell me if I'm as bad as this lady.
This morning, I overslept. So we were in a hurry. I got all the kids dressed and fed, but I took my banana in the car with me and was eating while I drove. I didn't really have a hand free for the phone, so when the phone rang, I debated about not answering. But I would feel terrible if she really needed something and I didn't answer. She would never do that to me. So I answered. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Hello?
Her: Hey there, lady. How are you this morning?
Me: Oh, fine. Just running behind, as usual.
Her: Ha ha. Well, I was just calling to tell you that I meant to bring you those books I told you about and I didn't really forget, but I left them sitting on the table. So I don't have them.
Me: Oh, that's fine. I'm reading something right now anyway, so I don't need anything new.
Her: Well, I'm thinking I'll give you 1-5 and then when you get to 5, you can let me know and I'll bring you the rest.
Me: Ok, that's fine.
Her: I don't have the sequel done yet because I'm reading it now. And I have a hard time putting it down, it's so good.
Me: Oh, don't worry. I can't read that many books all at once anyway.
Her: I mean, like last night. I so wanted to read, but I just took some medicine and went to bed.
Me: Silent. I know where this is going. My banana sits on my lap, open, getting banana junk all over my pants, but I can't drive, hold the banana and hold the phone. I wait.
Her: My periods just hit me so hard. I mean, it wasn't like this when I was younger. I was totally normal back then. I mean, sometimes I had cramps, but nothing like this. This is just terrible. So alot of the time, I take medicine at bedtime and it just knocks me out.
Me: I know what you mean. (I don't, but whatever)
Her: Like, one time, me and _____ (husband) were supposed to go on a trip and I had to back out at the last minute because it was so bad. My sister was all ready to watch the kids and she was afraid she'd have to take me to the ER, I was in so much pain. But I've had my gynocologist check it out and she says there's nothing wrong. I just don't understand. It's so hard with all these kids. And then, this morning, ______(Husband) was home because he was going in late and that gets me all of schedule. Like, he had the Swiffer out because someone tracked in mud and I'm like, Hey, I'll get it done later, but he keeps doing it...

And then, I pulled up next to her in the parking lot and she laughed and kept talking. I said "Do you know I'm right beside you?" She said she did. I was like "Um, do you want to go in first or do you want me to go?" She said "Ok, I'll go in..." and finally hung up. SHeesh.


Ok, have you had enough? See what I mean? Please tell me I don't do this. Please tell me that if I call you to tell you I forgot your books, I would just say "I'll get them to you later" and be done with it unless you asked me about them. Seriously? Do I call you 10 minutes before I am going to see you and tell you something I could tell you in 10 minutes and then end up talking about my period and my husband with the Swiffer? DO I? If I do, I'm going to go on silence for the next week. I cannot imagine making my friends suffer this way and if I do this, please, please tell me. Lauren this excludes you. I know you think I talk too much, but I personally think you don't talk enough, so there!

p.s. As far as I know, this lady knows nothing about this blog and would not have any reason to happen upon this. I wouldn't intentionally hurt someone and I would hope and pray that she would NEVER read this.

Lessons

You know the cliche, "You learn something new every day"? I believe that to be true, but sometimes, you are fortunate enough to learn more than one new thing each day. Today was one of those days.

1. Magazines fit nicely into a toilet bowl, but they do NOT, fortunately, flush.

2. Yelling at an 11-month-old to stop touching poop does not make him stop touching it.

3. A pickle jar, upon breaking, will not only shatter and shower the kitchen with glass, but it will also somehow jump the kitchen sink and land on the living room floor, lodging small pieces into your foot when you least expect it.

Happy Wednesday! :)

Perfect? Hardly

A few weeks ago, one of my friends told me that she reads my blog all the time and that my life sounds perfect the way I write about it. First of all, if this is true, that my life seems perfect based on what you read here, then I apologize. Second of all, my friend knows all too well that my life isn't perfect and while she didn't mean it as a criticism or insult (I don't think!) I thought I'd better clarify a few things.
I love my life. A lot. But I have my moments where I want to scream, cry, and/or run away. I just don't think people find my pity-parties interesting or entertaining. I find it fascinating that there are people reading about my life at all, so I try to keep the depressing parts to a minimum.
Not that they aren't there. They are, so I'm going to throw a bunch of stuff out there just in case there are other people under the misconception that my life is just one silly antecdote after another.

Take yesterday for instance. My day was full of nothing but tears, snot and diarrhea. All three kids had diarrhea. We all have allergies, and Rhett has a double ear infection. Every time Rhett went poopy in his diaper, it leaked and I had to change his clothes. His bottom was so red, it bled and he could barely sit on it. Reese is potty training and still uses the baby potty, so I emptied that potty of diarrhea at least 6 times yesterday. Each time, I scoured the potty and my hands with hot water, Clorox wipes and anti-bacterial soap. I finished the day with three beers and we ate dinner outside so we could hose off the patio when the pigs, I mean, KIDS, finished eating.

My kids argue. Too much. They drive me crazy. Sometimes I handle it fairly well, with a calm voice and time outs for all. Sometimes I yell, though. Sometimes I say "OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS ARE DRIVING ME NUTS!!!!" and I walk away from them, telling them not to talk to me for the rest of the day.

I argue with my husband. Sometimes over important things like child-rearing or money. Mostly though, we argue over the correct spelling or pronunciation of words, or whether or not we saw a movie together or with another person.

I have family issues. My parents divorced just when I was getting married 7 years ago. My dad just got remarried, my mom has a boyfriend, I have little tiffs with siblings from time to time, and I have trouble with my in-laws.

I think I'm fat. I get upset over things like today's lunch...I scarfed down a Waldorf Chicken salad I bought at Kroger, proud of myself for choosing something so healthy, only to realize that the calorie/fat count was for one serving and these idiots actually think TWO people are going to eat that teeny tiny salad.

I am a neat freak. Less so than before I married my "laid back" (Lazy/cluttery/dirty) husband and had to relax a bit, but still. I can lose my mind over a dirty floor or hairy shower and want to cry.

I am not the greatest friend in the world. I don't call my friends as much as I should and I don't tell them I appreciate them as much as I should.

Shall I go on or have I made my point? My life is no different/easier/harder than anyone else's. But my favorite thing about writing this blog is that it has taught me to look at the little things in life with humor and a positive attitude instead of sitting around wallowing in my own misery.
So there!!!

Mutton Bustin'

Remember this guy? Sir Smirks A Lot, my precious nephew?

Here he is Saturday night, at a rodeo. For those of you who don't know, they have a special event for the kids at the rodeo....it's called Mutton Bustin' (without the g, of course), which cracks me up. They ride a sheep instead of a bull, and it's a HOOT. My sister agreed to share this most important moment with you all....check out this link.

http://s59.photobucket.com/albums/g318/laurenperrier/?action=view&current=HPIM0239.flv

Enjoy!

It's Disgusting!

I love, love, love it when kids say words wrong. It actually breaks my heart when they finally learn to say things correctly. I wish I could catch every mispronunciation on tape....hey, here's one now.
Reese is watching TV and has found something she saw utterly disgusting...only disgusting seems too big for her little two-year-old mouth.

First Haircut

For the past couple of months, I've noticed Rhett's hair looking a bit shaggy around the ears. And in the past few weeks, it's actually started to look like a mullet. I had to admit it was time for the big boy cut. Not one to waste money on frivolous luxuries, I decided to cut it myself. I have no qualms about cutting my girls' hair. It's long enough that if I make a mistake, I can take them somewhere to correct it. But a boy. I've never cut a boy's hair. Well, unless you count the 6 month period during which I purchased a set of clippers and whipped it out on Aaron every few weeks. Even though the clippers came with a "Haircuts at Home" video, I never watched it and frankly, Aaron's hair didn't look too good during that time.

Anyway, I decided to brave the haircut...it just needed a little trim above the ears and in the back. No biggie. While I think it turned out fine. He didn't love it at first, but put food in front of the boy and you can get by with just about anything.

I included this shot just for Aaron because he thinks it's funny.

See what I mean? He's so focused on the snacks, he barely notices I'm behind him with a sharp object.

This was one of the more brutal shots. I was afraid I was going to cut him with the scissors, so I had to put a firm grip on his little head. It looks much worse than it actually was.

See? He survived.

Sleeping Sisters

There are times in every mother's life where you capture your children in a moment that takes your breath away. It is so precious that it almost causes you to forget about all the fussing, whining and arguing that has happened every other moment of the day. I was fortunate enough to snap a picture of a moment like this earlier tonight. The girls were watching a movie in my bed tonight and fell asleep. This is how I found them.

I wonder....who fell asleep first? Who decided first to quit fighting over who got the most covers and snuggled up to her sister?

I'll never know, but I love catching them like this. It's momentary confirmation that siblings are, indeed, good for one another and that, despite their consistent protests to the contrary, they do, in fact, love each other.

Potty Training

Isn't it ironic that potty training comes at the same time as the Terrible Twos? As if you don't have enough on your plate with the constant whining, arguing, and "I do it my-TELF!" Add potty training and it's enough to drive even the most patient, kind mother to tears. And I'm not the most patient, kind mother. The past few weeks have tested my patience, to say the least. But I'm here to report that Reese has not had an accident at home in at least a week. And she's even been going potty in public, when wearing a Pull-Up and the Pull-Up comes home dry 99% of the time. She is nothing if not stubborn. I mean, determined. Yeah, that's the "half-full" way of looking at it. Reese is determined. Not stubborn and belligerent. Strong and determined. Those are good qualities when entering the world. Just not so fun when you are the mother trying to mold determination and strength into a somewhat pleasant child.

My least favorite thing about potty training has been the vigilance with which I should be checking the little potty in the bathroom. I say should because Lord knows I forget to check it as often as I should. As if I have nothing else to do but be on Turd Alert all day. Rhett checks it for me when I forget. Can I get a collective "EEEEWWWW"? I know. It's gross. Our days are full of hand-washing, clothes changing and potty emptying.

When I feel sick to death of the little potty and cleaning up tee-tee and poopy messes, I try to think of the positive things about potty training. In my husband's eyes, it's one step closer to financial freedom. One less child in diapers. Woo hoo!

In my eyes, it's things like this:

Reese ALWAYS wants to wear her big girl panties. Even at night, when she has to wear a Pull-Up. I love it that instead of arguing, she just wears both. It looks uncomfortable, but she refuses to do it any other way. Love that strength and determination.

Cooties

Some days, it's just better not to listen to your voicemail. Today, I heard a message that has left me uncomfortable ever since. THe father of some kids I babysat a few times this week left this a message that went something like this: "Dodi, I'm so embarrassed to call you. I just got a call from the school that _____ has lice and I have to bring her home. I know it's so white trash, but I wanted to let you know since they've been at your house all week." (For the record, they are very nice people and nowhere near white trash.)

Poor guy...I know he was embarrassed. And I wasn't the least bit upset. At all. Until I had this thought: Holy crap, Avery is at school today. And is supposed to bring a new friend home with her today. What if we spread lice all over her precious little preschool and give it to this new kid? How embarrassing. It's funny how, a few minutes before, I was like "Oh, this is no big deal." and now I feel like "Oh my gosh, we are so white trash! We have cooties!"

Ok, so where do we go from here? I checked Reese and Rhett and they are fine. I called Ave's school, they checked her and she's fine. But I, for one, feel like I have bugs crawling out of my underwear and under my skin. I will keep you posted, but for now, I'm going to go boil my entire body in lye, ok? Later.

Post 2 - Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to two of my favorite April Fools...
To April: My sister in law. The only chick I know tough enough and crazy enough to hang with my brother. He's a mess, but a cute, fun mess and she brings out the best in him. Love you, girl!

To Misty: One of my dearest friends ever. She took care of my baby girl, Avery when I had to go to work and loved her like she was her own. She is one of my most precious friends and she knows ALL my secrets. Happy Birthday. Miss you and Love you!!!

It's A Girl!!!!!

You know Avery, my precious oldest daughter who wants to be a boy? Today she shocked her teacher and myself by choosing to wear a dress for class picture day. I had told her she needed to look extra nice today and she chose her "new dress what you bought me that one day." Isn't she pretty? (Don't answer if you don't think so.) Don't get me wrong...I think she's always adorable and I think it's so cute that she likes boy stuff, but there's nothing like seeing your sweet baby girl dress like a...well, a girl.


And of course, if Big Sister is wearing a dress and looking "Pitty", then Baby Sister must do the same. She has her own style, that's for sure. It does not involve hairbrushing. Ever. But she is proud of herself and that, in my opinion, is way cuter than any hairdo could ever be.