Backhanded Love

My little Brady has a big heart.  When he feels the love it just oozes out of him as though he will burst if it's not expressed and showered upon those around him.  (this goes for when he is in a bad mood to, mind you)  But it is something I admire about him.

So the other day I could see the delirium of love washing over him as he climbed onto my lap.  He started rubbing my leg with his sweaty little boy hand and gazed into my eyes.  (I'm telling you girls...you're in big trouble...)  He sighed a big sigh and said dreamily...  "Do you know who my favorite mommy is?"

I smiled, recognizing the little game we play.  "Is it me?"

He beamed and hugged me enthusiastically.

Then he leaned back, rubbed my leg again, and gazed into my eyes.  Then paused....looked down...looked back up to me and said.

"Um...I think you need to shave those."

You. Are. SOOOOOOOOOOO. Embarrassing.

I knew this day was coming.  One day my little girl who used to look up at me with such admiration and awe would see me an roll her eyes and be mortified.  What I DIDN'T know was that I would become this giant loser by the time she was only 8. 
Lucky for me there are still glimmers of her being impressed by me.  Like when the girls in her 3rd grade class begged her to have me (ME!!) be a chaperone on a field trip because I look like a COOL mom and have pink hair.  (I'm COOL, people!)

But then the next day as I pull up to the curb in front of the school with the radio blasting and I'm belting out the lyrics enthusiastically she suddenly finds me horrifyingly embarrassing.  I totally don't get it.  Maybe it was the bright yellow and green St. Patricks Day pajamas I was still sporting? 

So I am resigned to the idea that I have entered full time dorkdome in the eyes of my pre-pre-teen.  So I might as well embrace it.  My ideas include but are not limited to:

1.  Dancing disco as I blare Justin Bieber in my car when I pick her up from school and shouting - "I've got the Bieber Fever!"  Maybe I can get a bumper sticker too....

2.  As she leaves for school I can ask her, loudly, if she remembered to put on clean underwear?

3.  While talking with her friends I can play with her hair and ask her if she'd like pigtails again like she wore on Saturday and I can put big pink bows in it too!

4.  Wear nothing but bunny slippers and duckie pajamas whenever her friends are around.

Hmmmm...any other juicy ideas out there?

Now take a look at these...really...embarrassing is in the genes.

Ok, so maybe it's a little more obvious in me.  Poor girl.

Accusers Vs. Apologizers

On the playground you can find 2 different types of parents, usually. The apologizers and the accusers. 99% of the time I think first time parents land in category #2. Only children are very rarely to blame for anything. Those children are perfect and have never been naughty a day in their life. Not when they spit on your 2 year old, or bit your leg when caught them peeing in the corner. Nope.

Accuser parents are the ones that in any given situation will blame any other possible child within a semi reasonable distance. If their child HAS undeniably misbehaved it was because of something YOUR child did.

Apologizers, like me, are the parents who are just going to bend over and take it. Our first reaction tends to be, someone is crying, what did my kid do to cause it? Often these are parents of "strong willed" kids. Because chances are, our kids WERE involved in some way. And when someone blames one of our kids, we tend to take it at face value. Or if you are like me, you just smile and apologize and walk away feeling bitter that your kids was blamed...again.

What makes it so hard to stand up for our kids?? I think people like me, with "unique" kids feel so inadequate as parents at times, it feels wrong or unreasonable to stand up for them. It's so easy to blame kids like that. A pattern is set - these kids are bad news and can be the easy target.

It is amazing how quick a mother can become protective, even violent when a child's physical safety is jeopardy. Why do we let these little battles that eventually add up to a lifetime of hurt, just pass us by. A while ago it came to my attention, that my kids have an apologist mother. And it isn't fair to them. They don't need an accuser mother either. They need an advocate.

And I am working hard at not falling over myself with apologies about their behavior - which is often unruly or in need of correction. But instead, I am working on explaining the situation at hand. (Especially with Vincent) And then not apologizing for his behavior, but trying to see how we can change the matter. I'm not saying I don't make them apologize. It's just that seems to be my go to response. And why is that? They ARE good kids. Wild, creative, spicy, loud, funny, rambunctious kids. I don't want to make excuses for them. But sometimes, they need to be defended. They need to know that no matter what, mommy has their back. (Even if they don't always have mine and might actually jump on it when I am not looking).

GingersMom - the eternal work in progress.

Randoms

We spent the weekend trying to survive Pukefest 2010 in the Ginger household.  We tried to take out the entire neighborhood with our creepy crud - and managed a couple friends.  But since  we have no neighbors and live a deserted GHETTO we only reached out and touched a few.  Poor Boo spent his 4th birthday in the ER.  Nothing says happy birthday  like squirting out both ends. 


Today Savannah came home from school with a tummy ache.  Mean heartless mommy that I am, told the assistant nurse that I thought she was faking it.  She did not seem amused.  So I went to get the little faker from school who had plastered the obligitory sad sad sicky pout on her face.  The head nurse was in the office by then.  She nodded at me with a knowing look on her face.  She's got Red's number.  "I didn't call you."  We have an understanding.  "Oh I know..." I said.  Here at home she is delightfully skipping around and singing.  Another point for team Red.


On another note, she decided to take a bath.  With tons and tons of bubbles.  I walked by and she had covered her head and face with bubbles to look grey haired and bearded.  She shouted out as I walked by, "I am George Washington's Wife!"  I am sure Martha is looking down on us and appreciating us so so very much.

Spring Break

Dear Elementary School,

Please take my children back.  My sanity is dangling by a very thin thread.  The children have sprouted devil horns and their heads are spinning full around.  It has become quite clear to me that exposure to me, their mother, is one that only breeds pure evil.  Please take them back so I can delight in them in the after school hours when they are tired from working all day and only mildly capable of overthrowing any semblance of control that I have over them.

Most sincerely,

Gingers Mom

And may I declare it with great joy that I am reminded that I am NOT called to homeschool.  Foolish Gingers Mom for ever giving that a moment of consideration.  And now let us rejoice that Spring Break is almost over.  Do you hear the angels singing?  I do believe the sun is shining, the birds chirping and the flowers blooming as all things praise God for the return of school....

Until the end of May.

Red-Isms

My parents visited us from the mainland.  And...shocker...Dan spent most of their 2 weeks here traveling or out to sea etc.  So for much of their visit they slept in my room and I roomied up with Red.  She was sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor and me in her bed.  As we were getting ready for bed one night,  I offered to  sleep on the couch in the living room so Red could have her own bed.

"No mom, you need to know what it is like to not have a TV in your room."

Does CPS remove children from homes for such deprivation?

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GingersMom:  Red, if you get any more beautiful the boys are gonna come after you and you'll have to beat them off with sticks.

Red:  YES!!!!

GingersMom:  Yes to the boys a'comin or yes to the sticks?

Red:  Both!!!

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Yesterday I was sitting mindlessly like tub of jello (As per usual), the kids outside playing when I heard Savannah shouting:

LINUS IS HAVING BABIES!!!  LOOK HE'S HAVING A BABY!

One might become alarmed to learn their neutered male dog is giving birth.  However, as one wise friend once told me...denial is key.  The best parenting advice ever...just pretend it's not happening.

Moms and Women

This was a fantastic article sent to me by a friend.  You may just pass it over but it is worth a read.

Is it just stress, or could you be a woman struggling with undiagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder?


Most of us are familiar with hyperactivity and attentional problems in kids, and the debate over whether Ritalin is being over-prescribed. You may have also read an article here or there about ADHD in adults. John Ratey and Ned Hallowell's book on ADHD, Driven to Distraction, made its way to the New York Times best seller's list. But chances are that you haven't read much about girls or women with ADHD. Why not? Because ADHD has long been considered a male problem that affects only a few girls and women.



What are the signs of ADHD in women? ADHD in females can often be masked. Women with ADHD are most often diagnosed as depressed. And many women with ADHD do struggle with depression; however that is only part of the picture. As Sari Solden, author of Women with Attention Deficit Disorder, describes it, ADHD in women is the disorder of dis-order. In other words, for most women with ADHD their lives are filled with disorder which can feel overwhelming - piles and clutter out of control. There are some women with ADHD who have successfully compensated for their ADhD, but the price they pay is to expend most of their waking energy combating their natural tendency to be disorganized. Many women with ADHD feel a powerful sense of shame and inadequacy. They feel constantly behind, overwhelmed and frazzled. Some women with ADHD feel that their lives are so out of control that they rarely invite others into their home - too ashamed to allow anyone to see the disorder, too overwhelmed to combat the disorder that pervades their lives.



ADHD can be mild, moderate or severe. Some women are able to cope with the demands of daily life until they become a mother. For other women, their coping abilities don't collapse until baby number two comes along. The job of housewife and mother is especially difficult for women with ADHD because of its very nature. To raise children and to run a household well we are required to function in multiple roles at the same time, to cope with constant, unpredictable interruptions, to function with little structure, little support or encouragement, and to not only keep ourselves on track, but also be the scheduler of everyone else in the family. Who has soccer practice? Who has a dentist appointment? Who needs new shoes? Who needs a permission slip signed? Where is the permission slip? Who needs to go to the library? Who needs us to drop everything this minute because they skinned their knee or because they have an ear ache and want to come home from school? And in the midst of all this we are supposed to keep on track, planning meals, doing housework, laundry, planning social events, and, for the majority of mothers, working full time.



ADHD has become a more challenging problem for women as the demands in our late twentieth century lifestyles become greater and greater. Now we are expected to juggle homemaking, child care and full time employment, along with a full complement of extra-curricular activities for our children. What is highly stressful for a woman without ADhD, becomes a continuing crisis for a woman with ADhD. These women frequently suffer from anxiety, depression and low self-esteem because they find they can't live up to the superwoman image that so many women attempt today.



What is the difference between ADHD and stress? Stress is temporary or cyclical. A woman who feels disorganized and overwhelmed due to stress will heave a huge sigh of relief when the holidays are over or when the crunch at work has passed, and will set about returning her life to order. For a woman with ADhD, the stressful times are bad, but even in the best of times there is a feeling that the wave of "to do's" is about to crash over her head.



You may have ADHD if you: Have trouble completing projects and jump from one activity to another. Parents and teachers told you that you should have tried harder in school. And are frequently forgetful; have trouble remembering to do the things you intended. Frequently rushing, over-committed, often late. Make impulsive purchases, impulsive decisions. Feel overwhelmed and disorganized in your daily life. Have a disorderly purse, car, closet, household, etc. Are easily distracted from the task you are doing. Go off on tangents in conversations; may tend to interrupt. Have trouble balancing your checkbook; difficulty with paperwork.



Having difficulty with one or two of these things doesn't mean you have ADHD. This list isn't meant as a questionnaire for self-diagnosis; but if you find yourself answering "yes" to many of the questions listed above, it may be very helpful to seek an evaluation from a professional very experienced in diagnosing ADHD in adults. (A good place to begin your hunt for such a professional is to call the child ADHD experts in your community.)



If you are an undiagnosed woman with ADHD, help could be just around the corner. Women who have blamed themselves for years as lazy or incompetent have received help, through ADHD-oriented psychotherapy, medication and ADHD coaching and are now feeling and functioning much better.

Creative Spelling

Vincent is in Kindergarten.  They have a way of teaching them to write now called "Creative spelling".  It involves just writing down the letters you hear.  A "wing it" approach.

It is cute and I actually like it.  It makes for fun letters to Grandma and Poppa.  "I lv you.  Cm c me soon."  etc. 

Dan, love of my life, has his own version of creative spelling. 

Vincent and Brady are both big into learning how things are spelled.  So, now they ask us to give them words so they can try to spell it out. 

The other day we were in the car on the way home (from church, mind you).

Dan:  How do you spell  "Assume"?

Kids:  A...S....uh....  (much giggling from Dan)

Dan:  How do you spell "Ship"?

Kids:  S....h....i....(more giggling)

And his favorite of all

Dan:  Spell "Country"

Kids:  C.....u....n....t....r...y

He almost had to pull the car over for this one.

Only daddies get such satisfaction from having their kids sound out naughty words. 

Much eye rolling by Gingers Mom.....

The Butt

Last week I took my kids to the Children's Discovery Center.  This was a moderate attempt at finding something educational and fun to fill in one of the many many days off school here in Hawaii.  The kids haven't had a full school week since October thanks to "Furlough Friday".  So, in an attempt to avoid complete parenting failure, I have decided to seek out learning experiences.  (Unlike the last many months of Wii Fridays.)

So off we go to the Honolulu Children's Discovery Center. 

There are tons of fun things to do there.  Play rooms where you can pretend you are grocery shopping, change the oil in your car, play dress up...  And then there is the body science room.  You can see how your heart pumps blood, assemble a brain puzzle and even wind your way through the digestive system.

That's right folks!  You can take a stroll through a giant intestine and slip down the anal slide. 

My kids thought this was absolute bliss. 

There were many screams of  "I'm in the butt!  I'm in the butt!"

Is it just me that would think all children yell this out?  Why then, oh why, were the only children screaming, "I'm poop, in the BUTT" ....MINE?

It was a fun day all in all.  We learned alot.  Although I was tempted to teach the kids a thing about hemorrhoids...  Obviously THIS butt, has not see childbirth....  But I refrained.

When Daddy got home, he was very impressed to hear from Brady.  "Mommy took us to the big Butt.  Daddy, did you go in the butt?"

It's wrong.  So wrong.

Stuff Not About Naked Barbie

I have 2 boys. They are awesome in many many remarkable ways. As of late, my little one impresses me most with a particular skill. Cockroach killer.

Brady is 3 and the best cockroach killer around. He has a masterful approach and technique.

I'm not exactly sure why, but it requires Vincent's shoes...knee and elbow pads...and a helmet. Then he will proudly puff out his chest, saunter over to me and pat me on the shoulder. With a pitying look on his face he says....

"It's ok mommy....I kill the cockarochies."

I feel so safe and proud as charges out into the dangers of the patio to save me from the world's evils. My hero.

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Vincent is 5. He is afraid of girls. Now when I ask him if he wants to go on a date with Mommy he freaks out and says he is scared. Terrified he will be asked to "kiss" at the end of the date. God forbid. This is the same child that will cry hysterically if I forget to hug and kiss him goodnight.

A few weeks ago we took the kids to see Princess and the Frog with a few other neighborhood kids. One was an adorable blond, blue eyed 5 year old girl named Kate. As we were walking through the mall after the movie, Kate looks at Vincent with quiet determination and grabs his hand. My poor, sweet, pale skinned Vincent turned red over his entire body. Walking ahead of me I noticed his elbows, the backs of his legs, his WHOLE body was flushed with embarrassment. He looked back at me desperately and stretched out his other clammy pink hand and reached for me. It was hard...so so hard...not to point and laugh at him. (Yes. I realize that makes me a bad mother.) But I attempted a very thinly veiled look of sympathy. Then he finally grabbed my hand and said "Mommy! I'm scared!"

And so it begins, son.

Kate had a scowl on her face at this point and tugs on Vincent's other hand. "Vincent...don't you go trying to hold your mommy's hand!"

Can't blame a girl there. I did have mercy on him and held on tight to his sweaty little fingers in a stand of solidarity. Momma's got your back. No worries. As long as we aren't having this issue in 15 years from now, I think we'll be ok.

And So We Wander....

When as a mother, you get a moment to stop. Sit. Have a cup of coffee. And listen to....silence.

(Yeah right...)

No really. We get that now and then don't we? Kids at school, napping? If not, proceed to kitchen for frying pan and go beat on the man that impregnated you. Right now.

Ok, so here you are enjoying the silence. Some people use this opportunity to clean. (Ick) Watch TV, read...ok. Exercise (double, triple ICK) Me? I wander. In my mind...wander off. I'm sure other people do it. It can't just be me. But my mind truly is a Wonderland of things to discover and contemplate.

Sometimes I have deep meaningful thoughts and conversations in my head. But mostly...mostly...it goes something like this.

Ah...it's quiet in here. Bliss!
I should pick up those toys....nah.
Why is that Barbie staring at me?
Why is it naked?
Why is it always always naked?
I remember when my boobs were perky like that.
Why does my husband always grab my boobs when the kids "aren't looking"?
What does he find so appealing about me bending over the dishwasher?
I should take chicken breasts out of the freezer for dinner.
Last time I made chicken the kids said it smelled like feet.
Why does the boys' room ALWAYS smell like feet?
When is the last time they had a bath?
When is the last time I had a shower?
If I don't shave soon I am going to have to get me some Birkenstocks.
I should add granola to the shopping list.
That Barbie is still staring at me....

Hey, Where Did the Clouds Go?

My life in the last year has been one adventure after another. The move, experiencing a new place, schools, church, friends, furry roomates in the attic... Lots of big changes. Tearing up those roots in San Diego was laborous, but in predictable fashion, a good step for our family as a whole. Even though the kids were taking bets when my sanity would in fact fizzle out and I would start mumbling jibberish, I managed to hang onto it, even if it is just a shred.

Being in Hawaii has given me the opportunity to evaluate alot of things in my life. To consider what is important to me, to determine what got me where I am and why things are the way that they are. Well... I am HERE because the Navy made me go. But at least it isn't Sedona.

After a long process that is detailed and self indulgent I came to a realization about my life. Particularly my life in regards to Vincent. My unique one. My "spirited" one. My strong willed one. My ADHD one. The one that has me crying "Why God Why?" on a regular basis.

I began a mission to discover why my particular relationship with him was so challenged. What was it about me that was unique to cause all these sparks to fly when we are together? I looked inward and started to explore. Not in a effort to blame myself for the "mistakes" I have made but in a quest for understanding.

I began to research about ADHD and the environments in which kids grow up and what common factors may be involved. Apparently, 60 % of children with ADHD have a parent with ADD. A light bulb went on.

DAN HAS ADHD!

My research became more pinpointed and I started to compile evidence against him to prove it. Look here I have proof that I can blame you for this after all! Now I have more than just stretch marks and saggy boobs to hold against you. I can sit in the corner, giving you the stink eye, remembering my svelt size 6 body and the rational mind I once had.

However, as I read on learning more about this particular "condition" something struck a very familiar chord. Strangely, this did not resemble my husband at all. Stranger still, the description of a grown woman, particularly a mother with ADD could have been written about myself.

Holy Crap! Sorry honey...you can just hand that blame back to me. Oops. Put it right here in my pocket. Thanks...pat pat.....

Dan and I laughed at this for a while and shoved it on a shelf...far...far...away...under a musty blanket.

But something kept leading me back to that shelf. And after several months I became brave enough to peek under that blanket, and explore some more.

It has been a long road, but I have finally come to terms with the fact that I do have ADD. I have consulted many doctors, evaluated their opinions and accepted it. Embraced it even! I am not some underachieving hack, masquerading as an intelligent individual. Perhaps I am in fact an intelligent individual, with unique brain functions who just marches to the beat of a very erratic drum!

And for the first time in my life, I feel....hopeful, happy, optimistic and just downright GOOD. It is amazing when you can look at something with the right perspective. Instead of being hard on myself for being flaky or impatient I can understand WHY I have done the things I have done. Understand WHY I have a difficult time with certain things. Not an excuse...but an understanding that I am wired a little different. And who didn't know that anyway??

And the realization has been so freeing for me. For all you judgers out there (as if I have a vast million followers....Hi mom!) yes I do take medication. Not because I believe all "disorders" must be treated with chemicals, but because it is what is working for me. After a week of said medication, I woke up with a realization. That the night before I had gone to bed, satisfied...telling myself I did a good job as a mother today. And that is a first for me.

This is a good thing for me. I'm anxiously awaiting what might be around the next corner. I guess we'll find out...

Memories: They're Not What They Used to Be

Motherhood is not what I expected. I had a great childhood. One of those dreamy little lives that seemed akin the Cleavers. Granted, I have realized that people tend to remember things very different than their parents. I have sweet memories of decorating Christmas cookies with my brothers. My mom remembers the annual Schmidt family brawl. I remember going to my grandparents house for "Grandma-palooza" in the summer while my parents stayed home. I thought that they were so sad missing it all. Little did I know that they were having their own palooza of different kind. We both looked forward to it equally (Ok, let's be honest, they probably looked forward to it more than us) but saw things in very different perspectives.

So each day as I am serving the kids dinner, threatening their lives, giving them a bath, breaking up a fight, tucking them into bed, and teetering on the edge of my sanity as I look down at my wet, tattered, dirty clothes and mussed up hear and the tick in my left eye......I wonder. Are they remembering this the same way? Will they remember amongst all the yelling and discipline and downright mental breakdown of their mother the good things I manage to squeeze in there? Like the extra squirt of bath bubbles I add just to make sure they have enough to share. Or the fact I stayed up an hour late to make sure the right t-shirt they wanted to wear to school the next day made it into the dryer. Or giving them just ONE more cookie because I like they way they smirk when they ask.

Will they eventually turn around and say, "Thanks for not killing me, Mom for...." pouring an entire bottle of strawberry syrup on your new carpet? For running on the driveway in the front yard in your underwear yelling at your brother? For making a trip to the grocery store seem like I needed war paint? For asking the lady in the line at the store if she farted?

I can only hope. Get on my knees every day and pray that the Lord will glaze over the memories and let them remember me as a calm, cool, collected mommy. Ok, so that isn't going to happen. But maybe if I scrape together enough spare change, I can manage to hire a therapist that will convince them one day that hey...Mom wasn't so bad. That is if I am not locked in a padded cell by then.

Strange Hawaiian things #1

There are a number of things I have observed in Hawaii that has one scratching their head and saying "WTF?"

Red went on a field trip with her first grade class. As usual, I had to sign a permission form. Along with it is a list of instructions.

1. Bring a lunch in a bag that may be thrown out.
2. Be to school ON TIME
3. Footwear is required

Since when is footwear optional? Is this a Hawaiian thing? Can I send my kids to school with no shoes? It would definitely lower my monthly clothing budget for the kids. Especially for Red who destroys her shoes in a single bound. Or she begs begs begs me to buy her a particular pair of shoes. She PROMISES they are comfortable...she will wear them everyday. She simply cannot LIVE...WITHOUT...THESE...SHOES.

Where are the shoes? In the bottom of the closet only worn once before Red had complete toxic meltdown about how they were SO horrible and PAINFUL. And if I make her wear them it will damage her feet for life and she will need crutches to hobble herself to school....maybe even a wheelchair.

So here I am thinking...footwear optional. Not a bad idea.

Dogs v. children

Don't you just love it when some young new married person tells you they know exactly what you are going thru with your kid because...they have dogs?

You stand there in the middle of Walmart with your hair disheveled, clothes mussed up and a tick in your left eye...(because you have to admit your stupidity here: you came to Walmart with all three of your kids in tow) and dream about the the large blunt object you would like wield upon all the short loud people and then turn on the said idiotic new married person.

Yes. I can see how a little schnauzer could just bring you to your knees.

Dogs chew furniture, pee on the floor, maybe wake you up at night with their whining or scratching. They beg for food, needs baths on occasion and usually have bad smelling gas. Yes. These are all usually true and can be said for most children as well. I can see the similarity.

Talking back, sassing, lies, tattletales, hitting, spitting, stomping of the feet and turning blue in the face these are exactly why parenting is nothing like having a dog.

How many Labradors paint your dining table and chairs with Vagasil? How many chihuahuas squeeze an entire bottle of strawberry syrup on your newly laid living room carpet? How many chow chows yank off their poopy diaper and proceed to paint a lovely Picasso on your wall? When is the last time you saw a golden retriever ask a grocery clerk if they have "itchy itchy crabs"?

A whole world of adventure lies in wait for these young unsuspecting DINKS (double income no kids). I personally would like to pop a giant bowl of popcorn and have a nice glass of chardonnay (let's be honest here...a bottle) and sit back in an easy chair and watch when their first child is born and discovers the wonders of the bathroom medicine chest.

For now, I just smile and say..."Yes honey, dogs and kids are one and the same."

Update

My creative juices have dried up. My children have sucked every semi intelligent and witty thought from my brain and fed it to the dog. At least that is my theory. Either that or those brilliant and pithy ideas have ended up in the same place as all the missing socks.

If anyone happens to know where they can be found, you have hit the jackpot.

My husband does not believe me that the dryer eats the socks. But he is wrong. I know it. I believe that my dryer has gotten tired of cotton socks and has turned carnivorous. It now feasts on my brain as I do endless load of laundry.

Beware. Laundry WILL destroy your brain cells. That is reason enough for me to avoid it.

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We are in the process of packing up our house for the big move. We don't leave for Hawaii until March. But we have rented out our house and will be living with my parents for the next 4 months.

My kids are thrilled. It is similar to being told that you will be living at Disneyland. With endless cookies and bowls of candy.

They dream of dinners consisting of nothing but olives and marshmallows.

I am pretty sure that they are disappointed that Dan and I are actually going to be living there too.

We are the destroyers of all joy.

Bound and determined to taint their Grandma and Poppa - palooza.

I fear for our safety. They are going to be evil greedy over sugared monsters by the end. Have pity on me.

How Much Longer????

I am counting down the days...hours...minutes...until the kids go back to school. I am giddy. Positively dancing with glee knowing that in a week, they will be back at school where they belong. Out of my hair! No more grocery shopping with all 3 kids, no more whining and bickering from the hours of 7:30 and 2:30!!!! Yeah!!!! I am a happy woman. Well...I will be. Come next Tuesday.

As for now, that is another story. Let me give you a small glimpse into what my summer has been like:

Yesterday I took the boys to get a haircut - photo to follow soon. Afterwards I decided to take them next door to the shoe store even though I was already overwrought. Stupid mommy moment.

I proceed to have the kids measured. All 3 have outgrown their shoes at once. Damn. I just bought new shoes LAST month. Of course they have nothing for the boys in their sizes so while I am trying shoes on Red, the boys begin to trash the joint. Shoes everywhere. Stinky actually started trying to tear down the racks of shoes. I was purple with frustration.

Temper tantrums in abundance!

Boo started having a fit because he found Lightning McQueen shoes 4 sizes too big and wanted them. Stinky laid on the floor in the checkout line and screamed.

Then he stood up, took off all his clothes except his shorts, threw them at me and proceeded to run about the store shrieking and laughing. I could NOT catch them. People pointed and laughed. Encouraged them even! As I ran and shouted and looked like an idiot who never should have been appointed children.

Red stood on the sidelines and coached them. "She's coming!!!" She would shout to them. And the giggles would head off in another direction.

I grabbed her and hollered like a lunatic at her as people tsk tsked at me for losing it.

Finally I was able to capture the littlest one and made Red hold him down.

I eventually caught Stinky and ranted all the way to the car about the beating to follow.

Thank you Jesus that summer is coming to a close. Can we skip this next year??

Another Day at the Office

As I was cooking dinner once night, Red looks at me and says,

"Mommy, when I grow up....I don't want to be a mommy."

A little hurt, but curious I ask her why.

"Mommys work ALLLLLL the time. They cook, they clean they do laundry, dishes....."

So proud and smiling, I say

"That's true, but I love you."

Red sits and ponders for a while.

"Daddies.....they don't do anything!"

Never ask...

Mommy: Stinky, what does a pig say?

Stinky: Oink!!

Mommy: What does a bird say?

Stinky: Tweet tweet!!

Mommy: What does a dog say?

Stinky: Ruff Ruff!!

Mommy: What does a MOMMY say?

Stinky: Moo!!!

Little Treasures

Stinky and I were playing the name game. Can you guess the first name of your relatives. (Poppa's name, Grandma's name, Daddy's name etc.)

Gingers Mom: Stinky, what is mommy's name?

Stinky: Mommy.

GM: That's right. But what is my real name?

Stinky: Oh yeah....The Boss.

The other day Red climbed up on me for a cuddle. She laid her head down on my chest and was quiet for a long while.

Red: Mommy, your heart is going tap...tap...tap...

(she taps on my chest)

GM: That's right. My heart is pumping blood through my body and that is the sound it makes.

She ponders that for a moment.

Red: No...I think Jesus is trying to get out.