...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."

"BUT IT WAS A FUCKING BUG!"

"ZANDER!  DON'T!"

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'.

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!

Eff Baths.

I hear a lot, "you know, you should take time for yourself, take a hot bath or something."  This is usually from well meaning patients at the office.  I usually reply with, "yeah, so anyway..."  Here is the perfect scenario that occurred last night to demonstrate my whatever attitude when it comes to 'relaxing'.

I don't do baths.  I usually only take 'em when I need to shave my legs and I'm too damn lazy to stand up to do it.  TMI?  you're welcome.  Last night was one of those nights.  Coop has picked a book from the library that is 359 pages long.  While the Hubs and I are glad he's so into books, we realize that we are the narrators and we are too tired by whatever time people finally begin to fall out around the house.  Luckily, last night Daddy was chosen as reader du jour and I was off the hook.  I am relishing the fact I may have mmm... 10 minutes? to myself.  It was at minute three that I heard a rustling at the door.  I assumed it was either a lost squirrel or a child that had wandered from his bed.  I whispered, "Z, is that you?"  No answer.  Louder:  "Z, is that you?"

"Hey, mom!  Why's your mirror so dusty??"

I know from this side of the door he's standing beside the full length mirror on the other side of the door.  I am a mom.  I know he has not come to ask about my dusty mirror.

"What are you doing, Z?"

Silence.

more silence.

Finally, "Mom, will you wipe my butt??"

Sigh.  To someone with no kids, this probably sounds bizarre and grotesque.  Me?  Totally used to it.  I sat there.  Sometimes I honestly think, "DAMNIT!  Why me!?"  But this time my brain reminded me of a lull in silence much earlier in the day.  Over the den of little people climbing everywhere and screaming, I heard Z say to Coop, "You're a good bruder, Coop.  I wike you a wot".  Ah.  warm fuzzies.  "Ok. I can wipe your butt.  Just give me a moment... AND GET BACK IN YOUR BATHROOM."  (This was followed by a lecture about lessons in wiping his own dang butt.)

I came back to my nice warm bath and savored a moment... then another voice came to the door.  This time I yelled, "What do YOU want?!"  Coop says quietly, "When you get done, can you come downstairs and give me a kiss and hug?"

oops.

"Yes, give me a moment."

Eff baths.

I guess sleeping is my "me" time?