Thursday, May 31, 2012

Eff Vacation.

Just like money... vacation in the Awesome Abode is usually welcomed simply because, "Well, thank God we had it!"  We never seem to get ahead, both in the money area and the vacation area.  Anytime we have a bit of moo-lah, something comes along that needs repairing, purchasing or I dunno... removing.  I always think, "Thank you, Lord.  At least we had the means to do what needed to be done."  but we're always back to square one.  Same with vacation.  The Hubs takes off a week and suddenly an emergency trip has to be made to pick up the stepson hundreds of miles away (he's okay) and a million appointments pop up.  I rolled over this morning to find a small decrepit Z trying his best to crack his eyeballs open.  ...Off to the doctor we go to receive our diagnosis of pink eye.  I'm just so excited 'cause that junk spreads like wild fire and I just can't wait to receive mine! 

On the week marches...  appointment to appointment and chore to chore.  You just do what you've gotta do.  I just can't wait til 'vacation' means 'beach' or 'beer' or.... sleep.

Here's the funniest thing I've spotted this week.  I usually say, "I'm puttin' my big-girl panties on", but this has got to be my new favorite saying:

I guess I just can't wait to get back to our regularly scheduled programming.  Sometimes vacation stinks. 

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Let's Run Around in Underwear and Drink Coffee

They left me alone.  They freaking left me alone.  How could they do it???  They have trusted me with this:

 MONSTER*.  Clearly.

My Max has aged out of the Babies Can't Wait program.  Part of me is like, "Freaking-A!  I get my house back!  Let's run around in underwear and drink coffee til noon 'cause nobody's gonna be all up in my business!  And why clean anyway!?"  The other part is like, "oh.  dear.  God."

Each individual's sage advice?  The Occupational Therapist, the Speech Therapist, the Family Trainer?  "...go get yourself a good developmental pediatrician and good luck!"  oh, thank you, thank you.  If you're a little lost in the whole scenario, their reasoning is because Max still has a big delay in speech and constant tantrums and... quirks?  Sensory issues.  (Have I Googled 'autism'?  yes.)  At the age of 3, kids are aged out of Babies Can't Wait (an early intervention program in our state for special needs babies and toddlers) and turned over to the school system.

Now I am not a home schooler that 'be hatin' all over the system'... but I will admit I am leery with it.  Well... leery was the word a few weeks ago.  After a group of ten IEP (individual education plan) team members all told me he did not meet the requirements for special needs pre-school based on 'THE TEST WE CONDUCTED ON THIS PARTICULAR DAY' I decided the system was full of shit.  Thank you, system, for classifying my child into a nutshell based on one test on a particular day.  I fought the whole thing and persuaded them to more specific testing.  So there's that.  Fight the man... especially when it comes to your kids... what better reason?? 

Now, if he doesn't make it in the second time I will do a tiny happy dance because life won't be as inconvenient as I imagine it could get trucking 3 home schoolers, a special needs kid and a newborn to school every day.  ...And then I'll sit back and fret about what to do next.  Pray tell... why does insurance commonly NOT pay for speech therapy??

So... that's whats on my mind.  

Namaste.  ...and all that shit.

*Aww, that's no monster. 

Saturday, May 12, 2012

A Day in the Life.

What love looks like.  Clearly.

A controlled chaos.  No, really.

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!.... we really dig rolling down hills for some reason.  Can't pass one up.

I'm afraid I look like this...  most of the day.

Can I just add that I hate using photos on Blogger??  Makes the perfectionist in me a homicidal maniac.  That is all.

Thursday, May 10, 2012

...In Which We Learn Not To Say 'Fucking'

I'm going to say fuck in this entry a lot... mmmkay??  And it shall be a true testament to my amazing parenting skills...  my fortitude and well... my children's education about four letter words.  I've been told by a lot of people to write this story down.  Where?  I don't keep baby books... well... I tried... with Coop.  I wrote something in Z's.  I bought one for Max.  I didn't even bother with Lola.  And not that it is baby book material.  So, if ya know me, you've heard it... but here we go.  I have no where else to plant it.

Picture it.  mmm... let's call it Wednesday.  It must have been last Wednesday because that is just the worst day of the week.  The Hubs' job has decided it will throw just a huge wrench in our entire schedule by working the Hubs some pretty strange long hours on that day.  While I obviously love these children and they are mine to care for, by 8:00pm Wednesday night I frankly feel like I could die.  It's just a long ass day.  Last Wednesday was one of those.  I do not recall smiling most of the day.  I don't necessarily remember why... could have been any number of things...  money?  messy house?  too much to do?  lack of sleep?  want of coffee?  prego belly weighing me down? kids' bad attitude?  MY bad attitude?  mayhaps all of the above?  Likely all of the above.

I will spare you the gory details.  They are boring.  The day was boring... and that was probably most of the problem.  Coop had complained about a bug downstairs.  Noted that it was huge.  I ignored the whole thing and proceeded with my evening.  I put the youngest two down for bed.  Lola is always so easy... Max always screams.  Ah, Wednesday.  While shuffling the eldest two down I noticed on the stairs something... eh, large.  A shoe maybe?  Someone's discarded size 22 sock??  Mayhaps someone's freaking PET CAT???  DEAR.  GOD.   Realizing I couldn't make waves, lest the entire thing would go up in smoke right in front of my eyes... less quiet time to read... less Calgon time...  I chose to ignore the monstrous bug, climb over it and proceed down the stairs, noting that I would be back with perhaps a shot gun to take care of the thing.  The kids lay down in their bunkbed and I said I'd be right back.  Fly swatter in hand, I proceeded back up the stairs where this "bug" sat waiting for me in the foyer.  What was I to do??  What any normal tired person would do... proclaim to myself, "DAMN.  That is a HUGE fucking bug!" 

To be fair, I totally thought I was out of earshot.  I drowned that bitch in the toilet and made my way back down the stairs to the laundry room that sits adjacent to the boys' bedroom.  Everything was quiet...  for a moment...  and then I heard the tiny voice of Z say to his brother,

"Coop!" in a whisper, "that was a Fucking Bug because it was so big."

Silence continues.  I shake my head quickly like a cartoon character.  Nope, couldn't be.

"Cooper.  That was a Fucking Bug because it was so big. That's its name."

I could only imagine from the laundry room Coop's eyes getting as big as saucers and praying I hadn't heard his little brother.  While imagining... I was also laying all over the washing machine trying to keep my laughter to myself.  Sorta.

"Cooper!  That was a FUCKING BUG because it was so big!!"

"Uh, Zander... I don't think think you should say that."



This is where I interjected.  I couldn't let the madness continue... as funny as it was.  Poor guy.  They are all kinds of into Wild Kratts and Nature and Nova.  He was just excited he knew the bug's name!  That's all.  He tried to tell me then too about the Fucking Bug.  It's these snapshots of life that make it all fun.  I heard myself say, "Now Zander, we don't say 'fucking'.  That's not a nice word." and I giggled inside.  These are the times, right??

Well, I suppose I need to learn that we don't say 'fucking'.

Friday, May 04, 2012

Tuesday, May 01, 2012

Links I Like

Here's some stuff I've been digging and thought I'd pass along...

1.  I freaking love looking at other people's menus.  ...Especially really cheap ones.  This chicky's looked especially tasty... and cheap this week.  I'll be trying the garlic cheese pasta.

2.  I couldn't agree more.  A take on Nazi Breastfeeding Tactics.

3.   If you need Cinco De Mayo worksheets, this is the place to get some simple ones.  I'm thinking we'll be using them whilst I cook up the grub.

4.  sniff.  sniff.  Here's what I didn't count on:  the radio stations around here reminding me of my sadness UNTIL September.  I feel like a bratty kid at Walmart that was dragged down the toy aisle by an idiot parent only to find out I wasn't getting a toy.  This too shall pass.

5.   Oh, I just love this gal.  Plus, she's answered a question I ask myself daily...(or mayhaps confused me more... but made me feel better about it...?) "OH GOOD GOD! Was I just a helicopter parent??  OH NOES!!!"

6.  I enjoy stuff like this.  It helps remind me I'm not crazy.  Too damn hot to play outside all day anyway.  Why not learn??

Check 'em out.  If you've got some snazzy linky links, send 'em my way!
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