Oh Dear. Mama's in the Cooking Wine

     So. I had some downtime at work recently, and the new crock pot to break in. Which equaled thinking up recipes to try out in it, which equaled a phone call home and the request that Jasin go hit up the local Liquor store and inquire about a nice white cooking wine. Possibly some red cooking wine too, while you're at it. Just ask them for suggestions and buy whatever they give you, I instruct.

     I arrived home  to 2 inexpensive bottles of wine on the kitchen table, and the next day off, and, being a sucker for white wine, decide to give it a try. OMG. It was the best wine ever. Anyone following Facebook will know that, the next morning I stayed in bed, trying to think up a perfectly rational and acceptable reason for drinking wine for breakfast. Before church and a baby shower for my niece later that afternoon. I wandered downstairs to the noise of duck and squirrel calls their Father had so thoughtfully bought them the day before (The joys of living in the Boondocks and being surrounded by almost constant Gun and Sportsman shows. The deep South Rednecks have NOTHING on the WNY Southern Tier's gun/hunting/sportsman obsession.) and opened the refrigerator and had to really talk myself out of a perfectly respectable little sip of wine. I mean, really, when you think about it, it was going to be a busy day, I was going to have to wrestle with George through church, I was going to have to cook dinner, run errands, go to a baby shower, and my truck was not running right again. Who wouldn't blame me for a little tiny jump start to the day? A pick-me-up, if you will. Why NOT start the day all relaxed? I wouldn't even care about the ducks and squirrels that were bound to be descending upon my house en mass any moment now. I would WELCOME the adorable little creatures even, if I could just have a glass sip of that wine. But, I did not. And because of that restraint, I may or may not have impatiently told George there were monsters under the pews at church who eat little boys who do not behave in church. Paving my way DIRECTLY to hell, I imagine. (The health insurance does indeed pay for counseling, for those of you who wonder if  we shouldn't book an appointment....)

     For several days, I managed to just look at the cooking wine, sitting tantalizingly on the top shelf of the refrigerator. I had things to do, and children I was responsible for. There was only a glass left in the bottle anyway, after using it for my crock pot chicken in Sunday. No harm there, right? But, then there was the bathroom. And the fact that I had decided to clean and purge my entire house of 10 years of accumulation, starting with the smallest room; the bathroom. And, after 3 garbage bags of junk, and at least 12 years of memories, and having to make myself throw out baby barrettes, baby washcloths, journals of weight and exercise from when I was thinner, and suddenly doubting my worth as a housekeeper, mother and ever reaching skinny status, I was a miserable wreak who called Jasin and informed him it would be better for my mental status if we just left the house as is, and moved to a different one with new stuff. Then, I won a treat basket from the Library basket raffle. With lots of things, including chocolate inside it.

     If that wasn't a sign, I don't know what was. The universe could not have been any clearer. Does no one else see the connection of misery/wine/chocolate here? I thought so. So, not one to ignore the Universe, I poured half a glass of the magic wine, and grabbed a 3 Musketeers bar from the treat basket, a trashy novel, and snuggled into my recliner last night.
  
    Before I knew it, I was feeling soooo very good. I was relaxed and feeling on top of the world, completely okay with life in general, and having the urge to look through my phone contacts and see who I could look up and get in touch with. Instead, I decided to announce my wonderful elixir on Facebook, and how amazing I felt. At which several people demanded to know the name and brand of my magic cooking wine. I had to think long and hard, about telling anyone what it was. I could not possibly imagine letting ANYONE, ANYWHERE, EVER touching my wine. It was all mine, and I was not feeling up to sharing it. Ever. Seriously.
    
      A small part of my brain told me I needed to wander to the refrigerator, and type in the name and brand of the wine. And then, after posting this on Facebook, I may have followed it with a threat to people not to go buying all the wine. I have decided to go and buy 2 more bottles first thing tomorrow, when the liquor store opens. It's already in my head. "Drop this kid off at the Birthday party, that kid off to the Cub Scout thing, and then I can stop at the liquor store, grab a few bottles, and stock up, before I pick the other kid up from the sleep over...."

     Cheers everyone! Have a great weekend!!

Old and Decrepid

     Who knew. I am old. Not even middle aged. I mean, ELDERLY, old. I am reminded of it constantly. From my children:

     "Mom, was color invented when you were a kid, or, was everything still black and white?"

     "Did the dinosaurs die before, or after you were born?"

     "You were born in the 1970's??? Wow. You are soooo old, Mom."

From my poor arthritic body that creaks and groans when standing, making the first 5 steps not unlike those of a gangly newborn giraffe. The same body that can accuritely predict incoming rain and the severity of it days before any satalite or the National Weather Service can. (Sorry, to my Dad who was a highly educated Meteorologist and predicted weather for 30+ years. Arthritis wins over college here, Dad.)

     People in the public sector, as well. A patient of mine the other day, when a student nurse was tagging along with me for her clinicals:

     "Oh! We have a young one in here!" Comments the 70 something patient.

     "Are you implying that I am old, there, mister?"

     "Well, she isn't as old as you and I are, you know."

Or the kid at K-Mart yesterday. All I wanted to do, was replace my crockpot. I use it constantly, esp when I work, so that dinner is done for the kids, with minimal effort from the sitters or Kaila. The ceramic pot cracked awhile back, so I haven't been able to use it lately. My kids have eaten a lot of pancakes, spaghetti and fish sticks. Nobody in my household (and probably the sitter, too) wants to ever see any of these foods again. And, no names here, (SARA RALEY CECCHIN!!!) but someone recently posted a bunch of crockpot recipies, reminding me that I really needed to replace my crockpot. Here I am, dropping the the ball, depriving my kids of decent meals, because I can't seem to even remember to buy a new one. (Another sign of old age.)
     So, yesterday, I do my hair, get all dressed, I WORE EARINGS, for heaven's sake! I never get to wear earings anymore. When I do, my kids and husband become all suspicious.

     "Where are you going?"
    
     "I am going too!"

     "Are you going someplace we don't know about?"
     "You're going to be gone a long time, aren't you?"
     "Are you SURE you're just going grocery shopping?"

     "Why are you wearing those? I mean, REALLY, why are you wearing those?"

Nothing like your family, making you feel like you are are reformed hooker, about to fall off the wagon. So, anyhow, I get all dressed up, because I get to go all the way to Olean, just George and myself, to do fun shopping. I get to buy stuff to make baby presents for several people having babies, I get to buy a crockpot, and browse through the garden dept of K Mart and checkout herb and veggie seeds, and buy stuff to repot my plants. Plants that I rescued from a dark corner at work, struggling at death's door, and smuggled home to revive. They deserved new pots. All happy, earings jingling cheerfully at my earlobes, I go to the checkout, where the young man cashing me out starts off with:

     "And, would you like the extended warranty for your new appliance, Ma'am?" (Let's be honest here. Unless it's a hot Southern man with a sexy drawl, born and raised to call everyone 'Ma'am', immediatley making you  want to, you know, wear earings for him.... we all cringe a little when the word 'Ma'am' is used.)

     "No thanks"

     "You sure?"

     "My last crockpot lasted almost 17 years. I'm not too worried."

     "Wow! That's like, only 2 years younger than I am! That's like, OLD!" The shocked little darling bursts out. I went home and took the earings out.

     But, there is hope. I bought workout DVD's. With the assurances of the commercial, a lot of imagination, some hope, and the desperate wish for pixie dust, and four magic wands,  I can absolutely look like a Brazillian swimsuit model in only a few short weeks. Which will absolutely make me look young, solve all my problems, make me healthy, wealthy and afford me the ability to wear earrings without interogation. Ha!

Living With Sheldon Cooper

     I live with Sheldon Cooper. He is masquarading as my (almost) 8 year old son, Joe. I feel bad for poor Joe, as George seems to get most of the lime light. The guilt I felt, when someone told me they didn't even know I had another son, was terrible. Joe is a beautiful boy, with enormous blue eyes, a mop of thick hair that seems to grow faster than I can have my sister cut it. He is a smart, handsome kid, who only sees the world in a literal sense. For example;

     We were recently watching 'The Fox and the Hound'. Kaila was sighing over this being one of her favorite movies, because the backround is so beautiful. Not Joe.

     "I hate this movie! It is so WRONG! Black bears are not that big! They do not have red eyes! Todd is at a Game Preserve. No one can be running around with guns and traps - the Game Warden would be arresting him. WHAT?? WHAT??? The BEAR dies going over the waterfall, but the small little fox WALKS AWAY?? Who puts all these lies in a movie??? Owls are nocturnal. This is either wrong, or Big Mama has rabies. Either way, it is NOT good that she is awake."

     "SHUT UP, JOE!!!" screeches Kaila, "You're ruining the whole movie!!"

     "Mooouuummm! Kaila said a bad word! She said shut up!" Informs George "Beat her!"

     "Mom. I am only telling the truth. This is not something little kids should watch. This is teaching them wrong things. No parent should let their kids watch this stuff." lectures Joe.

     "Oh look! Bedtime!" I announce with relief.
Or:
  
     "Mom. Do ducks have feathers or fur? Baby ducks."

     "They are kinda downy, as they grow their feathers, I think. I really am not 100% sure."

     "No fur?"

     "No."

     "Then WHY is a baby duck in a baby book titled "Furry Babies''??? This is all wrong."

     This is from the kid who is obsessedd with Trans Formers, and now The Avengers. The difference being, that these things are possible, with some scientific work. Which, he is prepared to do. If only his Mother would put in a science lab for him, he could get started. Preferably with a secret entrance, so George will leave him alone. He is not sure what his first project will be. It could be a Force Field. He cannot believe no one has invented one yet. He inquired last year where Wal Mart keeps them. It seems the girls at school just WILL NOT leave him alone. At all. He matter of factly announced the other day at dinner, that he gets marriage proposals daily. He says this in passing, and continues on with another subject entirely, but, I interrupted him.

     "Beep beep! Back up, Joseph. You get proposals daily?"
  
     "Yes. WHY am I cursed this way??"

     "Yeah, he really does, Mom. This one girl is always finding Me and Kaila in the hallways, and telling us how much she is on love with Joe. She is going to marry him. She says she will wear him down sooner or later." Lexi fills me in.
    
     We ran into this little girl at the local grocery store recently. Her older sister smirks at Joe, and says,

     "I know you! You are Joe, and you are in love with my little sister!"

     "No, I am not." Joe enunciates, "SHE is in love with ME. I am going to invent a force field very soon for this problem."

     "JOSEPH!!!"

     Joe is not sure if it will be the Force Field, or the Time Machine first. He REALLY needs a Time Machine. It is endlessly frustrating to him, that he does not already own one. It would come in handy on a regular basis. For instance:

     "What is for dinner, Mom?"
 Heeeeere we go. He hates almost everything.

     "Slop. I am cooking slop. AKA roast beef."

     "Do I like slop?"

     "Yes. Yes you do."

     "Can you hurry up and build my lab? I need my time machine right now."

     "Why?"

     "Because then I could go into the future 10 minutes, and try dinner, so I know if I like it or not, so I know if I am eating tonight. What are you doing?"
     "Getting Tylenol."

Or, there is the other reasoning behind the immediate need for a Time Machine:

     "Guess what?"

     "What?"

     "I have not decided if I need to build the Time Machine first, or the Force Field first."

     "Because...?"

     "If I had a Force Field, I could build things uninterrupted by girls.... But, if I had a Time Machine, I would know for sure. I could go into the future, and see if I need to get started right away on fixing George."

     "And what is wrong with your brother?"

     "Mom. Come on. He is going to end up in jail some day. He is crazy. He is upside down all the time, always flipping up the couch, or doing somersaults, he is into everything, including my stuff, he is aways changing his pajamas - it's a sign there is something seriously wrong with him. And, he never leaves me alone. I have to lock myself in the bathroom, to do my homework! And THEN he says he has to go potty, and I STILL cannot get it done. He's a problem. If you build me a lab, I can fix him. And keep him out of jail."

     "Or, we could build a second bathroom. Just saying...."

     Or, there are the one liners, delivered without any pause:

     "If I were to be a bird, I would be a swan. Because my middle name is Grace!" Lexi announces the other day.

     "More like DISgrace." Snorts Joe.

     Or the other day. I sneezed.
 
     "Ha! It worked! I made you do that. I have been working on mind control. Don't mess with me, Mom." He was soooo serious about it.

     "GEORGE!!! You better be glad I do not have my lab yet! I am THIS close to hooking electricc up to my stuff, so you would get electrocuted every time you touch it!!!!" I recently overheard.

During dinner the other day, we were discussing a veggie garden we want to put in. (Read MOM will put in, plant, water, weed, etc....) And where we could put it. We were all tossing ideas around the table, when George lets out an impatient groan.

     "That is all a big waste of time, energy, work, and water. You are doing it all wrong." He says around his hot dog, "You need to build a green house that has solar panels, and a rain collection system that could be rigged to water the plants at a certain time. It would be energy efficient, have lights, be used year round, save money on food all year, and still be good for the planet." O.M.G. I was speechless. He did not understand why this was even an issue. To him, this was just a no-brainer, and a waste of conversation.

     Joe keeps me busy. I spend a lot of time on my phone, Googling things for him. He has an endless barrage of questions that I just do not know the answers to. And it is not just 'one' question. He will continue to shoot them off - for days if needed - until he is completely satisfied with the answer. His teacher mentioned that he is in a group in her class, that spends a lot of time digging deeper into things, and researching them in books, or on the Internet. I was a little nervous, going into parent teacher conferences with his teacher this school year. I was worried what I would be told. I definitely thought for certain, they were going to tell me there were problems with my kid. He does not MEAN to sound condescending, when he thinks someone is wrong. He is so laid back and easy going - except when he isn't. And then, he can have a melt down in seconds. And argue for HOURS, about whatever the problem is. (For instance, snacks, if he doesn't eat his dinner.) I wasn't sure what the teacher would tell me. His teacher just loves him, and told me, "I don't know how to put it, what words to use, but there is just something different about him. Something special. He has a lot of potential." Lets just hope he uses his powers for good, and not evil, right?

     He will also grow up to be very financially savvy. The arguing and lectures we received this past Christmas, while picking out a tree, were unbelievable. He marched matter of factly around the tree lot, checking out prices, until he found the least expensive tree on the lot. A scrawny, tiny, Charlie Brown of a tree. And then spend half an hour following us around, arguing WHY we needed this tree. It was cheap. It would only be in our house for a month. We did not need a huge tree. It would shed less. We would not have to move many things in the living room. It was cheap. We should not be wasting money on a tree that we would only have for a month. It was cheap. It was more responsible with money, to buy a cheap tree. It was cheap. It would be easier to get it home..... it went on and on. The other 5 of us finally settled on a nice, medium sized tree. Which, a mile down the road, flew off the top of my truck. "SEE?! If you would have bought the SMALL tree, I could have carried it, and this would not have happened. If you only would have listened to me...."

     "Sounds like somebody needs nap, right mom?" Pipes up George.
It will be so interesting, to see how my own little Sheldon Cooper grows up. To see if he invents a Force Field, a Time Machine, or figures out how to give toys an electrical charge.... It will also be interesting to see how his little brother fares, sharing a room with the Mad Scientist...

Home Schooled Mom vs Public Schooled Kids

     I am waiting to see where this post goes, before I name it. What excitement has occured in my household this week, that is worthy of a post? Well, there is the usual Traumatic Thursday. Anyone who follows my Facebook may have caught my Thursday rant, about how much I hate them. Please understand, this comes from a formerly Home Schooled person, who is experiencing public school along with my kids. When I was growing up, we were told what our daily assignments were, we did them, and we were done. We could sleep in, do our school, and be on our merry way. We had such a free spirited youth, that sometimes I hate sending my kids off, to be cooped up in school all day. And sometimes, I happily toss them out the door, and drink tea in my pajamas while snuggling George. Depends on the day.

     Thursdays are the bane of my existance, because my three school children all need to be picked up from various places at different times. In the nicer weather, they can walk. We haven't had a whole lot of that lately, so, slopping through the snow, slush, mud and general misery, we go. Lexi at 2:30, Kaila at 3:00, and Joe at 5:00. For Lexi, we can just sit in the truck and pull around, and the nice school ladies shove your kid in your vehicle and happily wave you off with a smile. For Kaila, one must park, be buzzed into the school, and physicaly see the tutor monitor. Seeing you outside does not count. Seeng you in the front door, does not count. Sending one of your other kids in to get her, does not count. Texting Kaila that I am parked out front, in full view 'See? I am waving from here - see me?', you guessed it; does not count.  "I must see the whites of your eyes!" She sings out. (She may have seen extra white in mine, due to all the rolling they do, as I drag George out of the vehicle AGAIN, or he will sit there in full tantrum mode), then buckle him back in, while the inevitable fighting over the front seat ensues, as I stand in whatever slop Mother Nature has shipped our way that particular Thursday, so I can drive half a mile back home. The homework and chore portion of our day begins then. It's terrible.

     This past Thursday, I assisted Lexi with a project due the 11th. I was actually pretty proud of myself for getting it done early. It really wasn't optional. According to the 3 page list of directions sent home, along with an E mail, and a letter detailing that we the parents understood this project, it's due dates, it's requirements and our needed particapation in it, that we had to sign and send back the next day, which Lexi forgot,  so, thusly recieved a 'strike' for. No stress, right?
      The project was suposed to be about France. It could be on a poster board, in a box, or done as a Power Point Presentation. God Bless the parents that do a Power Point for their 3rd grader's school project. We bought a poster board.
      Lex did so much research for this project! I was so proud of her, as she had gone to the library and taken out several books, and printed out lots of information from the internet. I had to load a french/english dictionary into my phone, for one part of it, but, overall, she knew her stuff. We put the whole thing together, and wrote out a color coded presentation, to go with it. We were pretty proud of ourselves, umtil I realized I had forgotten to pick Joe up from Cub Scouts, and make dinner. And Lexi hadn't even STARTED her regular homework yet.

     Thursdays are hardest on poor Joe. Joe tends to get up between 5:00 and 6:00 AM, so he can have his quiet time, uninterupted bathroom time, and watch Transformers, while snuggled in my chair, without getting screamed at by his sisters, who do not want to ever watch Transformers, and by George, who does not like anyone besides himself and myself in my recliner. After school, he has Cub Scouts, and comes home at dinner time. After which, he has his homework. Which includes a book report and spelling test every single Thursday. It is a miserable experience for both of us. He is overtired, George is overtired, I am stressed out, and nobody wants to do spelling tests or book reports. When his pencil broke for the 5th time with only 15 spelling words the other night, we were both frustrated. At 2 minutes before bedtime, his book report wasn't done, Lexi's spelling test was not done, but we were all DONE.
     "But mom!" reminds Lexi, "We still have to practice multiplication problems!" 20 minutes past bedtime.
     "NO! I am so DONE with homework! We are ALL done. Enough is enough. Skipping one night of multiplication will not affect your college GPA; it is bedtime; no more homework tonight!"
     "My teacher says, that when parents sign our homework, it is because you are saying that all our homework is done. You signed the homework, and now, if you don't do multiplication, it means you are LYING, Mom. And the teacher asks us, too. And we have to tell her that it doesn't get done, because you cannot LIE, Mom...."
     "I. DO. NOT. CARE. GO. TO. BED!" And, up the stairs we trooped, with my kids now thinking I am not only a shrew, but a liar, too. Splendid.

     Baseball/softball starts soon. I realized during our fun Thursday routine, when I picked up all the paperwork Jasin had brought home from signups, that all the fund raising orders and money were due Saturday. Of course.
     It's my own fault, for not looking at it before then. Kaila and Joe each needed to sell 5 things, in a town where every other kid is selling the same stuff. I mentaly calculated bills and my paycheck, and told the kids they were going to have to wander out after school Friday, and sell magazines, wrapping paper, cheesecake, cookies and frozen pizzas. Have fun, kids! They made their goal, sold 10 things between them (Special shout out to both of the babysitters, who, between them, bought 3 things, using different names... awesome girls, they are!) Here we come, baseball season!

     Unless getting the house cleaned, and laundry caught up makes anyone else beside myself excited, that is about the extent of anything amazing at our house. Supermom here really outdid herself, proving to the school that I am a liar, forgetting my kid at scouts, having a homework induced meltdown, and trying not to over roll my eyes at the tutor monitor. I rock, right? We can always try again next Thursday - but the Mom of the month trophy isn't going to me this month.

Date Night

     This weekend, I had taken Saturday off, so I could help out at a benefit for friends of mine. We decided to have the sitter come, so we could make a day of it. The possibilities were endless! It is rare anymore, that I wear anything more than scrubs. On my non scrub days, there really isn't any reason to get terribly dressed up, so, it wasn't until I attempted to take the kids to Buffalo for the day on Friday, that I realized, I have NOTHING to wear. Nothing. No jeans, a few sweaters I have had since before Kaila was born, and some odds n ends from here and there over the years. How many mothers out there, when thinking about buying themselves something extravigant, like, say, socks? Immedietely think of at least 92  things the kids need? So, here we were, going to go go out, for the first time since last August, and before that, last March, and I have a pair of kahkis, and no jeans. Enough was enough. I bought some clothes. It was awesome. I was even happy, (Who am I kidding?? If I could do cartwheels and backflips, they would TOTALY have been done!) to see the jeans I tried on were LOOSE! This was the best day ever. (Except for all the other 'Best Days Ever'...). Anyhow, after a blessedly uniterupted lunch at our favorite Mexican place, we were off to the benefit, back in Franklinville. Rocking new jeans, AND earings!
     The benefit was a huge success, and people were shoulder to shoulder, and having a great time. All night it was "HI!!!! I haven't seen  you in FOREVER!!!!", and, "Where's George?" My voice still hurts. But that's okay, because, for a few scrub free, kid free hours, I felt like a person, and not just "Hey Mom!" and "Hey Nurse!". Kinda nice. Until after.
     We had already recieved a text from the sitter; "When are you coming home?" Ugh. I swear, I have more guilt and restrictions over staying out late (All of 7:00 PM), now, then I did as a teen. I responded "Dunno." because, it was only 7PM! We were out, and kid free! The possibilities were endless! I even ran into my neighbor from across the street. After the usual, "HI! We haven't seen you in FOREVER!" It was inquired as to what we had done on this rare day off. "Oh my gosh!" exclaimed myself and the Captain Morgan swishing about inside me; "I bought NEW UNDERWEAR! You have no idea how epic that is. It's been YEARS!!! You have noooo idea, how exciting this is!" I probably would have still said it, even without the Captain Morgan. Lots of Moms out there will totaly understand.
     After leaving the Benefit, we sat in the parkinglot, eating our Chicken BBQ from said Benefit. Mostly because, we knew that taking it home would decrease our chances of getting ANY of it, considerably. The kids would have totaly pounced all over that. The cold dinner conversation consisted of

"So, what should we do now?"

"I don't know. I cannot have anything more to drink, I have to work in the morning."

"Yeah. Me either. I have to get up with the kids in the morning."

 (Okay, STOP right here. I had exactly 5 drinks, as did Jasin. Over a 6 hour period. Before I make us out to be irresponsible alcoholics...)

"How about a movie?" At this point, we both whip out our phones, to look up movies. Nothing till 10PM.

"Well, that's a long time to have to kill time. And, I have to get up at 4:45...."

"Yeah. So...... any other suggestions?"

"We just ate, so, there's no point in driving anywhere for anything to eat. The  movies are too late. We have established we should not drink anymore....."

"It's only 7:30!!! We haven't been out in over 6 months! We have a sitter!"

"And new earings. *SIGH*"

"I know! How about we go to Olean to Tops, and go grocery shopping!"

"NO!"

"ANY suggestions at all?"

"Ummmmm. No. I got nothing." At this point, we are idling on the road in front of our house.

"Nothing? Because I really don't want to pull in the driveway right now. It will probably be another 6 months, before we can do this again."

"Nothing. I have no ideas at all. We cannot drink, I have to get up early for work, so we can't really go Buffalo way, I think the poor sitter wants to go home...."

"Hell. Fine. I will pull in."

We were home before 8PM. Upon entering, I handed George new underwear I had bought him. The kid was so overjoyed and excited, he could hardly believe it.Yeah, son, I completely understand......
Responsible adult that I am, I was tucked into bed by 10PM, with the realization that I will not have another opportunity to wear any of my new clothes until Tuesday..........

Snowed in Shenanigans

     My kids are on Winter Break this week. I was off Tuesday and Wednesday, and, wouldn't you know, the weather predictions weren't too wonderful. I probably COULD have taken them out and about, but, living half an hour from ANYWHERE,  if I don't have to drive in the slop, I really don't want to. Tuesday, I went out, rented movies, and made popcprn. That seemed to tide them over somewhat. And, I am excited to say, I finally was able to use my new oven that night! (Little side note here, just to get it out of my system; I was NOT the first to use it. One of the babysitters was. You may all be upset for me now. The sympathy is appreciated.) After producing dinner, the nightly arguement with Joe began. He is stick skinny, not because I do not feed him, but, because he is pretty sure he hates everything I set in front of him.

"Mom, what's for dinner tonight?"

"Homemade pizza rolls."

"I HAAATE those!! Why do you have to always make stuff I hate?"

"I have never made them, Joe. You haven't even tried them before."
"Uuggghh!!!! Can't you hurry up and put a lab in here for me, so I can get started on my time machine??"

"What the heck do you need a time machine for?"

"Because, mom!" (in the tone of voice to suggest I have the IQ of a dead goldfish) "Then I could go ten minutes into the future, to see if I like it, so I know if I should try it or not."

"OMG, Joe. Just TRY it, for heaven's sake!"

"I neeeed a science lab, Mom!"

"I neeeed a new kitchen, Joe. Guess who's gonna win this one?"

It was decided that dinner was acceptable, and I was begged to make more, which entailed a quick trip down the road to the store to get more ingredients. It is the occasional meal that is tolerable, that my kids are still upright. Otherwise, they would eat more, and I would have way  more disposable income, if I just let them eat cereal, toast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

     Wednesday, I awakened to the sounds of bickering, arguing and screeching, wafting up the stairs. By 9AM, I decided something had to be done, before we were all insane. At this point, the kids have been cooped up at home all week, and were sick of each other, the house, the TV, and George is still getting over a cold. His constant crying and whining were beyond bearable.

"Minions, assemble!!"

"What, Mom. What do we have to clean?" They all asked miserably.

"I am going to the store, to get stuff. I will return."

"What stuff?"

"Whatever will shut you all up for the next 12 hours." They were good with that.

Off to one of the local dollar stores, I went. I bought stickers, Easter window clings, foam stickers, puzzles, trains, cars, tractors, nail polish, lip gloss, activity books, markers, games - whatever I could inexpensively find. I filled an entire cart up. Went home, set it all out, and told them to occupy themselves. It was wonderful. The house was an absolute disaster, but, they were so content! As I write this, I have neon pink finger nails, and neon orange toe nails, done by Kaila, as George took a nap in my lap. It was such a fun day. And, we made do-it-yourself subs for dinner, which met with Joe's approval. TWO DAYS IN A ROW!!! Maybe tomorrow, I can take them to do something fun. They need to get out. 

     In other news, I am completely thrilled that it is daylight again, when I arrive to work. That may not seem like anything special to some of you, but, for someone who arrives and departs in the dark, the walk from parkinglot to front door in the daylight is rather nice.
     I have also (after 2 months, because, you know I work for the federal government, and 2 months is STAT, in their terms...and, that is how long the entire process has taken....) gained access to the fitness center, at work. Because, you all know, (well, most of us, not the fanatical workout, buff friends of mine out there), that, after a few weeks of half hearted, minimal effort, and the outrage over limiting chocolate and wine intake, weight loss results are expected at the approximately 45# range, and the jeans size at about 3 sizes smaller. I would like to think that I will be COMMITED! This time is IT! I am going to get up an hour early EVERY work day (LOL!!!!) and work out! And again AFTER work! There will be work out videos at home, elliptical workouts, and morning waks/runs/bike rides. I will look like a Barbie Doll - or, at least her mother, by June. Maybe July. Of next year. Or not. Either way, I decided if I cannot make it to a gym one floor below me, at the place I spend almost 13 hours a day at, then, no other membership will be worth the money. Otherwise, there will once again, be no pics of Moriah during any summer trips we make. Like hopefully Maine. Unless we re-do the kitchen. Because that really really needs to happen. Maine would be nice, too though. Lord knows we all need it. Until then, I am going to google recipies that will make me a size 6, and keep Joe happy....

  

Midnight Ramblings

    The bug seems to have hit our home again. George seems to be hit the hardest. Getting up with sick kids every hour or so is bringing back memories of newborns in the house. Newborns, who would be quiet as soon as I started to feed them. George, however, becomes downright chatty. Three nights in a row now, we have been up more than asleep. Sometimes, he sits in his bed and cries. Others, he comes right to my bedside.

     "Mom. Wake up. I am hot again. You need to take my temperature and it's time to give me more medicine. You should probably listen to my heart with your scope, too. Mom? Wake up! I am sick! We need to go downstairs. You should probably carry me. I am too sick to walk down all those stairs. Did you bring your scope in from your truck after work?"

     "Uugghh. Do you think you will sleep through the night again, anytime soon, son?"

After he has been medicated and used the potty, and had a drink, and we have rocked in the chair awhile, the talking begins. We've discussed the ocean, possible visits to the ocean this summer, cracks in my bedroom ceiling and why houses settle, and what causes hairline cracks, the light on my dresser, shell collecting, Joe's legos, and where they might be hidden, where Lexi puts things she doesn't want him to find. He's told me he likes kisses, and snuggling on my pillow, why I have to go to work, why he thinks I shouldn't. My little doctor has given me his own plan of care - when he thinks he should receive medicine, and which one "I don't have a cough, so, not the cough medicine. Just the medicine that makes you not hot anymore. Don't you think you should take my temperature first, Mom? Not with your hand!!!!!! Use the thermometer! I probably need a drink. Where is your scope, now? You need to listen to my belly and heart." It's like being at work with a psychotic patient. Only, I cannot medicate him as such.
      I finally got the little motormouth back to sleep around 4 AM this morning.
     "One hour. I get to sleep for one whole hour before work. One beautiful, precious hour. Okay. I can do this. I am so cold. Lord. That overtired cold. Doesn't matter. I can still sleep. If I don't look at the clock, I won't panic because I cannot fall back to sleep. Sooo tired. And cold. What if the alarm clock wakes George back up again? Then what am I going to do? Don't care. I will worry about it in an hour. Actually, probably LESS than an hour now. That's okay though, because I can totally do this on an hour of good sleep. Wait. Was it an hour, or was it actually an hour and a half? Do I look, or just try to sleep till the alarm goes off? My throat hurts. I should have grabbed a cough drop. No. I probably would have choked to death on it. So.... if we do make it to Maine for our vaca this year; what if it rains the whole time? Locked in an RV for a week. Who is going to water all my flowers and feed the cat if we go?  What if we just skip the vacation and re-do the kitchen, instead? We could just take the kids to Lake Erie for a day, and tell them it's the ocean.... and, we could pick a hot sunny day, that is guaranteed to be nice, instead of chancing a week locked in an RV in the rain. Bet I still have at least 50 minutes left....." Off goes the alarm. "Mom! It's time to get up for work! Your alarm is going off! Get up and get in the shower, Mom! I will just come downstairs with you, okay? You need to carry me though. I think maybe you should leave your scope home with me..."

     At this point, this entire post is during a break at work, after 3 nights with no sleep, and with two more days of work left to go. I am too tired, even, to worry about my kids being sick. Because I am pretty sure they just have a bug, and none of them need an antibiotic. And that's about all a doctor is going to do that I cannot at this point. Joe has a bit of a cough, and is maddeningly whiny, and Kaila has a sore throat, and, as dramatic as she can be about ANY pain -(If the hysterics we have gone through over teeth coming out is any indication of her pain tolerance levels, I can only imagine child birth for her some day....)- she is pretty sure she is dying. However, they haven't been up all night as of yet. Just George and me. Either rocking in the recliner, or snuggled up in my bed. " I think I should probably stay in your bed for awhile mom. I might need to cry again, if I get hot. You need more kisses? I like kisses." You know, the germ infested ones? I sure as heck don't get this many when he isn't contagious. I will take what I can get, however. Have a good weekend, people. When I get some sleep, I am sure the whole 'guilt of being at work and not seeing my poor sick children for 4 days, OMG, what kind of mother am I?????'  will kick in. Until then, they have been instructed to drink lots of tea and water, rest a lot, and bug their Father.