Monday, April 30, 2012

Especially When It Looks Like Nothing

So I've heard I shouldn't blog if I'm bored.  Makes for bad reading.  What if I instead said I feel rather bored, yet I am also so damn busy I can't see straight.  I once read a book... well, okay it was pretty I skimmed it... but it was called "What Mothers Do (Especially When It Looks Like Nothing).  In it, the author brought up the fact that while a mom multi-tasks a hundred things at once (it's a hundred, right?!) if she was to answer the phone in the midst of it, she'd probably say, "Oh, I wasn't busy".  WRONG.  The author proved her point much better than I could, but I know exactly where she's coming from.  In a moment I'm going to go work on some first grade math while scrubbing my kitchen floor while the dishwasher's running while the dryer is running while the clothes washer is running while the kids are napping while the casserole is thawing while I'm wondering if I'll freaking know how to sew on Boy Scout badges when the Hubs gets home with them while baking a small human inside my uterus...  (and breathe.)  ...And if you were to call me right now I'd say, "Ah naw... go ahead... I wasn't up to anything."

Anyhoo...I damn near (gasp.) vlogged something today because it's been one of THOSE days.  Ie:  at breakfast the children decide to see if they can hit the same note at the top of their lungs in unison.  I was doing laundry at the time and could only just laugh and thought, "Boy motherhood is a... blessing...?"  And then I thought of you, dear reader, because that shit was funny.

I also caught this today:

This is a picture of two toddlers picking up a gigantic mess they made without being asked.  Now, I know they just like to sing "Clean up, clean up" together, but Ima pretend its a product of good breeding... mmmkay?  But proof my day is not all for naught. 

If you want a random track update, I thought I would add that this kid:

jumped 10 damn feet at district.  He didn't even get first place.  What the what??  What do Olympians jump?  This blows my mind.  I'm going to blame the hormones in food or some other soapbox.  Crazy.

Random skinny picture of me:

They don't come around often and simply must be shared.  I apologize. 

Happy Monday, ya'll.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

To My Dearest Eddie Vedder

To My Dearest Eddie Vedder,

I am just not sure how you could set up a concert in Atlanta without consulting me first.  Wait, that's rude.  Just, why didn't you call??  I would have told you I have a baby due on September 19th and that I am simply not able to make it.  I am sure you would have obliged and set up an even better date.

Here is how my brain works (and apparently my husband's...).  The Hubs hears Pearl Jam is coming September 21st (with Foo Fighters?!  ...sigh.)  He immediately calls because I guess he loves to hear information before me.  He drones on and on, rubs it in, about how the radio stations are blowing up about it.  How huge it's going to be.  How amazing.  ...And backstage passes are available???  Although I would probably just stare at you and stutter...  Anyway, my brain immediately starts rolling...  could I induce?  my babies always come a week late, why wouldn't this one??  could I pop a baby out and run??  wait!, there was that time I went to Music Midtown on crutches!... would this be so different???  But these thoughts were the weird split-second kind... quick and... well, dumb.  This may be God's sick sense of humor at work again... after all, the family's savings IS in jeopardy when meeting you could be involved.  (For $1000... what the what??)

So I make coffee this morning and throw in the Ten album in a ritualistic sort of manner.  Those were the days.  Forceful-grown-up-hood is okay, right?  Teaches responsibility?  I'll make a casserole for a sick friend today.  Get my son's occupational therapy done.  Make sure the house sparkles.  But I'll have you know...  it all sounds homely, but not only am I rockin this shit, I am OWNING this shit.  Is there not a way to mix this housewife self with my easy breezy former self?

So, in my daydreams, very much like a cheesy afternoon Lifetime flick... my friends contact you and tell you what a fan I am.  You, being the lovely person you are visit me in the hospital.  You spout some amazing words of wisdom, "Hey, keep on rocking in the free world..." And I name my fifth kid Vedder.  It's a lovely story, right?


At most admiring, a most pregnant, a most conflicted personality... fan.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Five For Friday

Oh lest ye should think I wrote a few times and gave this shit up again... I am here to prove you wrong.  WRONG I say!  But I would like to point out that this week has been mayhaps one of my craziest and I am fried.  (It IS 4/20, but it is not at all in a good way.)  So Ima just spit some shit out and we'll see where it goes.

1. We've had appointments every damn day for the last week and a half, Maximus and I.  I am still cursing the irritatingly-beautiful-unfrumpy-dermatologist, but moving on... next came the midwife on Monday.  The Hubs and I have decided to wait to find out the sex of this next wee babe.  I have to say, that'll be exciting in the delivery room, but for right now... it sucks.  Let's face it, and pardon me while I whine... this is the 5th baby... nobody cares.  Well, they care.  *I* care.  But you don't hear the "squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!" or the "oooohs" and "aaaaaaaaaahs" like with the first baby, or perhaps the second.  Frankly, people may just think it is odd-er when I'm NOT pregnant.  (Aww.  Look at me, I'm trying to make my own jokes about it.)  But there's also no planning.  I've got boy stuff.  I've got some girl stuff.  Bam.  Done.  I am as prepared at 18 weeks (or 19?  20?  see what I mean?  I can't remember.) I will be at 40.  I'm on a quest to figure out a way to make it more exciting... like Santy Claus coming or something.  I dunno... not knowing the sex... it's interesting.  Throw some ideas at me. 

2.  Moving on through appointments...  we had our first Occupational Therapy appointment this week.  I will tell you this, it should make my fried feelings a bit clearer:  in the middle of the appointment, the therapist asked if *I* was okay to go on.  I guess I had been sitting in the corner of my living room making some pretty twisted awkward faces.  We have the Dr. House of OTs.  Don't get me wrong, I totally appreciate it...  but its not always easy to watch.  She was out to show Max just who the alpha-dog is.  Whenever he'd cry (oh... 85% of the visit) she'd throw him on the balance ball, work him out and declare, "THERE IS NO CRYING IN THERAPY!" (Is it wrong that as shattered as I was to watch my baby get so distraught, some part of me was giggling on the inside and repeating, "There is no crying in baseball!"?  ...I think I'm sick.)  Anyway, Dr. House was wonderful and I feel we're on the right road... it's just not at all pleasant.

3.  Here's one for you.  A priest walks into a bar...

No, no, no...  how's about... a frazzled, frumpy woman who is distraught over the fact that the nursery volunteer did NOT show up again to church, walks up to the priest at communion time.  (This woman is me, did you catch that??)  All my duckies follow in their row.  Daddy is the caboose.  Before blessing each 'blessing' and handing me communion, the priest says in a booming voice (this is in front of the church), "How DOES this HAPPEN!?"  oh, you funny, funny man.  I giggled and said, "Ha!  Ha!  I just don't know!  Ha!"  Of course, I fall asleep at night developing new answers... I usually come back to, "Wouldn't YOU like to know.  Ha!"  See.  I am safe no where.  Not even a Catholic church.  I will have to get over this one and become a friendly person again.

4.  My babymama texted me a million times Wednesday night.  Don't get me wrong, we have a pretty good relationship and I like her fine... it was just dinner time... by myself... with all the minions, a guinea pig and a dog.  Caleb was at his track meet and vying for a place at district.  I'm excited for the guy, but when Lola gets hungry... all hell breaks loose.  I was starting to get irritated when she texts, "long jump:  8ft 1 in.  1st place.  We're going to district!"  I did one of those only-in-the-movies double takes.  I set my phone down and picked it right back up again.  What the what???  The next day the kids and I taped that shit out on the floor.  (home school math, right... right?!)  Damn is all I can say.  That booger jumped 8 FEET 1 INCH.  I'm proud.  Daddy's going to go watch our little Olympian this weekend at district.  (its so obvious I didn't birth him.  My stumpy self probably couldn't jump a foot... and by the time you have a few babies... well... nobody wants me to try, I am sure.)

5.  Something rare has happened tonight.  As rare as a big foot sighting.  Nay, the McRib!  I am home alone... well, with 75% of the babies.  This.  feels.  weird.  My Cooper has joined the Scouts.  He has jumped in with both feet.  I'm just not used to such enthusiasm from the kid.  Not that he doesn't get enthused... it's just that he doesn't always let us see it... out in the open.  Anyway, he and The Hubs are at his very first campout.  I am hoping nothing weird happens to take away his enthusiasm.  And yes, I know that kids have to go through stuff... it's part of the learning... but just not tonight!  I am so excited for him.  And as everyone's first question is always (gulp) 'WHAT ABOUT SOCIALIZATION?!?!" when it comes to home schooling, I am super-duper psyched that he is making new little friends.  (I am also crazy psyched that next time someone asks me about the 'S word', I can say, "BAM.  Boy Scouts, bitches.  done and done." ...only I'll be nicer... maybe.)  

So there you have it.  I'm gonna eat this night up.  Live out loud!!  Be wild!!  Ima paint my toes... and... and...  eat cereal in bed... and... and...  watch crappy basic cable television all night!  (Is 'What Would You Do?' really our best option for Friday night television, America??  Am I the only one with John-Quinones-Anxiety, fearing that guy is going to jump out of every awkward public situation in my life??) 

And then in the morning I will be so ready for everybody to be back home.

Happy Weekend, ya'll.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Five for Friday

Let's wrap up this ridiculous week.  I'm hoping some good weather and (better) adult interaction will rejuvenate my spirits.  I'm ready to put this one to bed.

1.  I went to the dermatologist today.  Whenever I leave the house it just becomes a... thing.  Being pregnant never makes it better.  Well...  being 18 or whatever weeks pregnant doesn't make it better... I just look... squishy...  fluffy... not pregnant.  I like nothing more in the world than feeling absolutely frumpy and having someone wearing high heels and possessing amazing skin tell me, "ooooh THIS is better?!"... referring to my skin that yes, I thought looked better.  Once again, lest you think I am a whiner, I realize this is not cancer, but DAMN.  I just hate acne.  It's all made so much better when I have to navigate public with no makeup.  Really does wonders for the already faltering self esteem.  Bite me, doc.

2.  I forgot to schedule Lola's baptism.  Again.  For the second week.  ...Or rather, for the 17th month, see as how some Catholics schedule their kids' baptism even before they are born.  Ooops.  My bad.  Why can't I remember this?  She is going to look monstrous next to the wee babes.

3.  Here's an idea that came to me in my sleep regarding ye ol' weighted blanket.  Mayhaps shutting my brain off actually accelerates my idea process, as when I am awake there are just simply too many small voices in and around my head.  Ima make my first poly pellet purchase this weekend.  If you're along for the ride or making one yourself, it occurred to me that Michaels puts out a 40% coupon each week.  I'm going to grab enough flyers for the Hubs and I to buy 4 2lb bags.  $8.99 each goes down to $5.40 each.  This excites me.  In pricing the materials I'd need, it began to worry me that the "million dollar" price tag I saw all over the web may just be quite fair.  Anyway, here's a good blog that has instructions for constructing this monstrosity:  The Squishy Pickles  - found it to be the most easily read-able for a gal of my craft-caliber.

4.  I found this Tuesday:

 There are many things going on here:  a kid that enjoys reading, a kid that can keep his siblings busy (wooooooooo hooooooooooooooooo!), another great reason to homeschool...  impromptu reading on a bright and sunny afternoon.  Love.

5.  So the occupational therapist finally called to get this show on the road with Maximus... hey, it's only been six weeks since his initial evaluation, but who's counting.  Time to get to work.  ...or, work some more, I mean.

Toodles.  Ima work in a nap both Saturday AND Sunday... that's just where I'm at peeps.  Happy Weekend!

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Damn Weighted Blankets.

First of all, I apologize if you just googled and found me because you too are desperately seeking a damn weighted blanket.  If you are like me and have a hell of a lot more time than money ( seems to be equalizing lately though... not in a good way) you are seeking a way to make this freaking thing.  ...because, 'how hard could it be to make a blanket?'  ...A BLANKET.  argh.

I also apologize to those that just don't give a shit about weighted blankets.  ...And why would you.  I wish I didn't.  I wish I had not become obsessed with the things.  But here is where I stand.  Moving on.

Having a newborn is hard.  It is hella hard.  Not during the day.  I tend to think that's easy-peasy.  Eat.  Sleep.  Poop.  Eat.  Sleep.  Poop.  And the doctors tell you that you should do the same.  It's the night that becomes ridiculous.  I get nauseous just thinking about it.  I hate the feeling of needing sleep, getting 5 great minutes of it and then being awakened.  It makes me literally nauseous.  And it seems all my babies do the same thing:  perfect angels during the day, little devils at night.  I tip toe around the Hubs because of his crazy early schedule and hold these wee babes into the night while silently praying Fox is running a small marathon of Cops.  Otherwise I'll be subjected to nothing but infomercials... hormones will make me cry about the fact we will not give in and pay for cable.  Anyway.  The kids have been good about quickly sleeping through the night... In fact, Lola began respecting my sleep somewhere around five weeks.  Heaven.  The diva still sleeps 8pm - 9am.

It becomes absolutely ridiculous when your NEARLY THREE YEAR OLD begins screaming at least four times a night.  What.  the.  Hell.  A nice mommy would think, 'poor dear' and console him back to sleep patiently... she also poops glitter and keeps an immaculate house (both as unlikely at the Awesome Abode).  This chick stumbles, very much zombie-fied, into the kids room... throws the blanket back on him and trips back to her own bed... unswayed by the legos, stuffed animals and left over pbj's along the way.  My Maximus cries because his blanket has come off.  Every.  Damn.  Night.

Every.  Night.

At first the family trainer (the pack-n-play lady) told me to make up some sort of curriculum during the day to teach Max how to put his own blanket on at night.  This all seemed so unnecessary but necessary considering little Lola can do this herself.  We worked with it... trouble is, once we realized the kid has Sensory Processing Disorder, it became apparent he just simply cannot put the blanket on himself.  The coordination simply isn't there.

Enter the damn weighted blanket.  They are used to calm kids with Sensory Processing Disorder.  Especially those that are affected proprioceptively, as Max is.  Google that shit.  They are worth, like, a million dollars.  Not really... but $100 and $1000000 is roughly the same to me.  I have now been on a mission to make my own.  I have no sewing skills.  I also just learned what a poly pellet is.  (I've also now schooled the peeps at Hobby Lobby and Michaels...leading me to believe no one ever uses these things, really.)  I am not crafty... this should be a humorous adventure that you can now join me on.  Updates to come.

I'd better go.  It's naptime and he's screaming presently...  deep breaths.  deep breaths.

Monday, April 09, 2012

Excessively Douche-y Douche Bags and Other Matters of the Heart.

Alright, alright, alright (read as Matthew McConaughey... it'd be a lot cooler if you did.)  I apologize for my absence... sorta.  Had I been blogging for the last two months or so I would probably have felt pretty damn irresponsible.  Of course, I've been told lately I should take more time for myself... which makes me giggle a bit... psychotically... and wonder how I could make these 'experts' a fly on my wall.

So, I like writing.  Up until the point I don't.  And chances are, you like reading... up until the point you don't.  We will solve this by doing this 'Five For Friday' style just to catch you up a bit.  (I reserve the right to go past five.)  I will throw in a few (what I find to be) entertaining pictures and we'll call this done for the day.

1.  Probably the most interesting thing to happen in the last two months is that Maximus has been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder.  I'll link it there in case you are a nerd like me.  If you decide to take on that rabbit hole, I will tell you he is affected proprioceptive-ly and perhaps vestibular-ly.  What this means for me is that all his little quirky-quirks that were so hard to explain are now being unraveled.  His speech delay has reasoning behind it.  Waking up screaming five times a night is explained.  Broken windows in the living room are explained.  Even the fact we've always called him 'The Brute' somehow makes even more sense.  It was not that long ago I began googling 'autism', if that tells you anything.  I knew something was up, I just couldn't put my finger on it.  Autism seemed like an awfully harsh diagnosis, but I knew there had to be an answer to his behavior and delays.  The diagnosis of SPD comes with a lot of relief and a lot of damn work, honestly.

2.  This happened:   

All possible chaos hits the fan around September 19th.  My excitement is squelched both by the stress of it all and the

3.  Excessively douche-y douche bags.  There.  I said it.  People suck.  I've gotten pretty sick of people lately and maybe that was one of the reasons I haven't blogged.  Picture it:  you tell someone, "Yay!  We're having a baby!" and it is met with:

"Have you heard from the discovery channel on having your own show yet?!"
"Giving the Duggars a run for their money?"
"Do you know what causes that?"

These statements seem to be all in fun, but I have heard them A MILLION TIMES.  It's like when Grandma tells the same damn story over and over again.  Eventually you want to smack her.  It wears on you.  I always answer, "yep... going for our own show!  That'll make diapers affordable!"  Or "YES.  SEX CAUSES IT.  WE LIKE IT."  Boxed up answers make me feel just as douche-y.  

Answering questions about my uterus or my husband's penis is also very fun whether at work, church or on the street:

"Wow.  Are one of you going to get fixed?"
"Have you heard of a vas-ect-omy!"  
"Will they tie your tubes after labor?"

I have now grown up in a way that allows me to tell nearly anyone, "Well, I really don't think that's any of your business."  

I also love when such a 'mistake' must be due to the fact I am Catholic.

"Is this because you are Catholic??"
"Well, I guess you'll just have a big Catholic family." (this was uttered by a Catholic "friend", without a smile and in a very sarcastic manner.) 

I didn't make up any of those.  Maybe it doesn't seem that bad to you, but I do not live through one single day without a sneer or joke at my expense.  After a while it hurts.  It hurt with the third kid.  It hurt with the fourth kid.  The fifth kid is getting it even worse.  The attitude from family and friends that the fifth kid is not nearly as important as the first is wearing on me as well.  

Okay.  I'm done whining.

4.  I have rosacea.   Nope.  Not as big as cancer.  For some reason I got a lot of hits on my whole rant on adult acne and I thought you deserved an update.  While acne just doesn't seem like the biggest deal, it gets pretty damn old after a while and I am crazy glad to be (nearly) rid of it.  I can now show my face in public.
5. We're still rockin' it homeschool style.  To the point that we'll finish up our curriculum about a month early.  At that point we'll be diving into science full force.  I am crazy proud of Coop.  His reading is amazing.  I don't know how parents get the exact numbers to brag about... 'my child reads on an eleven-teenth-kabillion-one level'... but I'm pretty sure he's up there.  Multi-syllable words are no challenge for him and second grade should get pretty exciting.  Just to update... I may be one of the only mothers to think "The Story of the World" curriculum sucks, but so be it.  We're on the search for history again...  

There you have it.  That's what I've been 'doing'.  Sometimes a whole lot of shit, sometimes a whole lot of 'nothing'.  It's true that as a mom the days are so freaking slow, but the years zoom past.  I look forward to being in touch with the world again...  until next time!

Monday, April 02, 2012


Ima take this thing back up again.  ...And soon... I promise.  But before I do, I should warn you...  my brain feels an awful lot like this: