Goodnight Moon
17 Jan 2012 Leave a Comment
This is a live blog, brought to you direct from my Master bedroom. Remember, that room that had been taken over by my two small children which I finally reclaimed to myself after nine months? Yeah. That lasted about two weeks until somebody got the sniffles and ended up in my bed one night, and it was all downhill from there. Oh how I missed the feet in my back all night long.
So we begin again tonight with the weaning process. Step one is move child out of my bed and into her own bed. Four feet away from me. That’s all. The following account is a minute by minute live account of our journey.
7:30pm: I mentally prep her for what’s to come, talking up how great it’s gonna be to be to sleep in her BIG girl bed, while I feed her sister. She is taking full advantage of my hands being full, jumping off my bed, then on her bed, running around in circles like a wild Indian.
7:44pm: I lay the baby down and we get her pajamas on, find her stuffed animals, and get her tucked into her toddler bed. She lays down with a smile on her face, thanking me for her fuzzy blanket, as I get ready for bed.
7:48pm: I climb into bed relishing the fact that I’m getting the whole bed to myself, complete with every pillow and all the blankets I want. I can hardly contain my excitement.
7:49pm: She realizes we are four feet apart.
7:49pm and 2 seconds: She starts to cry (fake…more like a whine) and asks to sleep with me. I remind her gently that we have our own beds and I’m right next to her.
7:50pm: The whining escalates and now she’s thirsty. My method is going to be to not let her manipulate me out of bed 1000 times, because she knows this will wear me down. I tell her if she wants a drink she can get a plastic cup from the counter and get water from the refrigerator. (I prepared ahead of time) This stuns her for a moment, then the whining and “I can’t”, “I want you to come with me”, and “I’m thirsty” wails continue. I ignore them.
7:58pm: She finally stops sobbing after 8 minutes and goes to the kitchen. She comes back with a plastic cup filled with a half an inch of water and tells me it’s coming out (of the refrigerator dispenser) too fast. Fair enough. I instruct her to get her water from the bathroom sink. Again, she cries about the fact that she can’t and she wants me to do it. I tell her no and listen to her cry (fake) inches from my face.
8:04pm: She finally gives up and gets her water from the bathroom sink. She is proud of herself, and happily carries her cup over beside her bed and tucks herself in, sipping her water every few seconds. I close my eyes.
8:06pm: I feel someone breathing on me. I open my eyes. She’s in my face with her eyebrows scrunched together and her arms crossed. She tells me she’s mad because she can’t sleep in my bed. (we’ve been working on expressing our feelings with words instead of smacking people) I tell her thank you for telling me how she feels, kiss and hug her, then tell her to go back to bed. She stomps off and throws herself on her mattress.
8:08pm: She’s back with a huge grin, giggling. She smirks as she explains to me she’s not going to bed until I read her a bedtime story. She says this in the same tone I use when I tell her if she doesn’t eat her dinner, she’s not getting a snack. I can’t help but laugh a bit, before sending her back to bed. Apparently, she really thought that one was going to work. Now she’s crying (real) with howls and shrieks in between sobs. I ignore it. They get progressively louder.
8:14pm: Now she’s in my face shrieking and howling that she wants me, she never gets to cuddle, she doesn’t want to sleep alone, and so on and so forth. I send her back to bed, hoarse from all the crying.
8:19pm: Now she has the hiccups, which sends her into mega-meltdown. She blames her hiccups on the fact that I’m not letting her sleep in my bed. I tell her to drink her water because it cures hiccups. (my LeBonheur friends will appreciate that advice)
8:22pm: Her generic sobs have turned into a plea that she’s cold. I tell her to cover up with her blanket. She says she can’t, it’s fallen on the floor and it’s too far for her to pick up. She’s five inches from the floor. I ignore her. She continues to sob over and over that she’s cold, kicking her legs violently on the mattress.
8:27pm: She picks up her blanket off the floor, quietly sobbing.
8:31pm: the sobbing stops.
At 8:36 and 8:39pm, she let’s out one long wail and then gets quiet again.
It is now 9:11pm and she is still awake, but quiet. She’s turning her turtle nightlight on and off, changing his colors, and making his stars shine all over the room. I’m really thirsty, but I know if I move a muscle, much less, leave the room then we will be back to square one. This makes my thirst worse.
It’s now 9:19pm and she’s turned off her nightlight and let out a sigh. I bet she’s asleep. I feel like a heartless parent, but I don’t know what else to do. She’s too much like me: stubborn and strong-willed, but she’s got a sensitive side under that rough exterior. I hate to be tough on her, but let’s keep things in perspective… she’s sleeping FOUR feet away! It’s not like I’m abandoning or emotionally abusing the poor child. It’s going to be alright. Right?
Over the Hills and through the Woods… (Part 2 of 2)
18 Dec 2011 Leave a Comment
(Missed part 1? Click here )
What’s worse than being stuck in bumper to bumper traffic that is not moving with a van full of screaming, unhappy kids? Well, not much to be perfectly honest. I’d rather pull out my teeth one by one with a rusty butterknife than sit through that again. Luckily, we were only six miles from the next gas station exit! Oh…thank God!!! That exit seemed like an oasis in a desert with the promise of rest rooms, water for the baby’s bottle, the chance to change the little ones and feed the big ones. The only problem was we couldn’t be going any slower unless we had been going backwards!
As we inched along, we anxiously counted down each tenth of a mile. With every start and stop, the kids only became more irritable. We kept turning up the volume of the TV trying to drown out the sound, to no avail. The screams only got scarier and louder. At one point, Addison was gurgling because she was suffocating in her own tears and snot and the youngest baby was scratching desperately at the plastic sides of her car seat trying the claw her way out…juice cups were flying in all directions, the van was shaking with the motion of every tantrum, and my sister looked a little like a crazy person about to snap.
One and a half hours of this super-sized funness later and we could finally see the exit! Hallelujah!!! Then, would you like to know what happened???? Just guess…because my eye is twitching just thinking about it! They fell asleep! Are you $&@#% kidding me?! We pull into the gas station and assess the situation to make a plan: big kids are quiet but have to pee, and the babies are just sitting there like they gave up in defeat. So I grab Hannah and a baby bottle so we can both use the restroom and I can make milk, then my sister can do the same and we’ll change both babies’ diapers in the car. I look at my sister. Cool? Cool. Let’s do this!
So Hannah and I tear into the gas station like somebody set us on fire, and I realize there is a line with a few people. Damn! Well, we waited this long right? As it begins to dawn on me that the pee-line is moving half as quickly as the traffic line on the highway, I begin to worry a little about my sister being left in the car with the other three kids. By this time there are five more women behind me, five in front, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Another painful 15 minutes goes by as Hannah is pinging around kamikaze style from aisle to aisle, rearranging candy bars and knocking down chip displays, taking full advantage of mom being stuck in a stationary position. As I’m making the one millionth pitiful attempt to coax her into standing “the hell still and keep your mouth SHUT!” (how it actually came out), SHE came inside.
She, meaning someone who looked exactly like my sister, carrying three children through the gas station door. But that was where the resemblance ended. This woman was absolutely crazy! This woman had finally had enough. She blew in with the force of a category four tropical Hurricane, eyes blazing as she scanned the interior for me like the terminator hunting for his prey. I felt her eyes lock with mine, death rays singeing my eyelashes, as a devil-growl roared from her throat and hollered, BRITTNEY! Fix your baby some milk!!!”
The next thing I know, the baby car seat comes sliding across the floor stopping in front of my feet with a baby whose eyes were now as big as footballs. Something came out of my mouth as I began to yell back my reply, letting her know I wasn’t having a freaking birthday party inside either, but I’m sure it didn’t make any sense to anyone else around us. Our conversation at that point probably looked more like a scene out of Twighlight when two werewolves begin to attack each other. Miraculously, everybody in the filling station shut up, looked at their feet, and the line started moving a lot faster. I imagine we were a pretty frightful looking bunch: two women with children on the edge is scarier than a group of thugs with guns, I assure you.
I grabbed my kids, took care of my business, grabbed some snacks, and yelled at the guy checking me out. Why? I’m not really sure but it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the moment when you have twenty people staring at you in fear. Then I grabbed all four kids with my sister on my heels and we tore out of the gas station with as much force as we came in with. I can only image the sighs of relief that went around the room after our exit.
After loaded back into the car, with all settled in and happy, my sister and I were able to breathe for a second. Suddenly, the van was filled with fits of our hysterical laughter as we recalled the playback of what just happened and inched our way back onto the highway. One thing I am thankful for is that I am not from Carlisle, AR. Chances are there is now a warrant out for my arrest for disturbing the peace, child endangerment, domestic terrorism, or any number of things.
Over the Hills and through the Woods… (Part 1 of 2)
18 Dec 2011 1 Comment
…to grandmother’s house we go! Or, in my case, over the bridge, across the river, and through the never-ending miles of on and off construction. For as far back as I can remember, the drive to my Grandma’s house in Arkansas has been long, boring, and filled with the monotonous scenery of empty field after empty field, only broken by the occasional 30 mile stretch of orange barrels. I’m 28. You think in nearly three decades they would have completed all the roadwork. It’s like they are eternally demolishing, rebuilding, and repairing the same 250 mile stretch of highway between our house and hers. In fact, I’m pretty sure some of those barrels are the original barrels that were blocking off lanes of traffic back when I was a baby. I mean, whose crappy job is it to put out and take up those things anyway? It’s kinda like they started the project in 1980, ran out of money, and just left them there and nobody has even noticed that you never actually see any “road construction workers,” just their paraphernalia littering the highway. If I ever do see one of these mythical crew members, I will be sure to give him a special thank you for the hell I went through to get back home tonight!
As my sister and I hustled our tired kids into the mothership, complete with all our baggage and a few bags of Christmas toys, snacks for the road, and half a pound of fudge that I graciously took off my Grandma’s hands, our prayer was for a quick, peaceful trip with four sleeping kiddos worn out on good food, no naps, and new toys. What we got was a car full of cranky, overtired demon possessed children in dirty diapers with nothing to feed them but fudge and rice crispie treats for six hours! It was honestly one of the worst car rides of my entire life.
It didn’t start out that way, though. Actually, the trip back started off just as planned. We left on time. We didn’t leave anything essential behind. Everyone was fed and happy, and both little babies fell asleep before we even made it out of the driveway. The Wonderpets DVD was softly playing in the background on the the tv as my sister and I chatted about nonsense. But somewhere around Carlisle, AR we hit construction traffic and that’s where things began to fall apart. I know it was Carlisle only because I had the time to Google where the ___ am I? as I sat PARKED on the interstate wondering why nothing was moving!
A wreck?! Oh my…it must be a pretty bad one, I thought, and silently prayed no one was seriously hurt or dead and hoped the traffic was from some other source, like construction. Boy! I got my prayers answered in a big way!!! After about 20 minutes of going zero miles an hour, things began to move at a snail’s pace and we saw some “road work ahead” signs. Always annoying, yes, but better than a wreck by far. My relief was short lived, however, because right at about the same time one on the babies woke up. I’m not sure which one it was first, but the sound was an ear-piercing scream of annoyance that they were not moving, not eating, not dry, and strapped down. If you’re a parent, you know a child’s cry has a domino effect on every other child in a 100 mile radius. So, instantly our peaceful car was morphed into a cage of death reverberating with the sound of two shrieking, hungry babies and two whining preschoolers who suddenly were hungry, thirsty, and had to pee. I had to roll the windows down to release some of the force of their fury. If I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure my van would have exploded!
We were now, once again, not moving. Not even an inch!
(…Part 2 of this post will be continued tomorrow because I am too tired tonight)
Shady Deals
28 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Stupid does not descriminate
I love Black Friday shopping. I’ve gone every year for the last four years now. I usually map out a plan with whoever agrees to be my shopping buddy, grab some Starbucks, and set my sights on the store with the most deals. Something about the anticipation of nabbing a great deal is super exciting, isn’t it? It doesn’t really even matter what the deal is as long as it’s a deal. “Guess what I paid for these toe socks?! FIVE CENTS!!! Everybody’s getting a pair!” Yes! Toesocks! Awesome. Just what everybody wants for Christmas…two layers of cotton shoved between each individual toe. That should be considered a form of torture.
To date, I’ve never made it home on Black Friday with an advertised “doorbuster.” You know what I mean by doorbuster: those tempting ads they put out weeks ahead of time that make people insane enough to camp out in front of the store for hours, or even days. Those people are nuts! Or maybe I just value my time too much. An hour of my time that could be spent playing with my kids, or better yet, sleeping, has got to be worth at least $200. And that price goes up the older I get. There was one year we made it home with a TV on supersale. But as soon as we plugged it in it almost caught on fire. Returned and lesson learned.
So really, I’m not a slow learner, I continue to go for the fun of it more so than the objective to grab a great steal-of-a-deal. I was really disappointed that this year stores were opening at midnight and even 9pm on Thanksgiving! That ruins it for me. That takes away all the excitement of waiting, of getting up super early and coming home to crash after a long morning, of getting to enjoy the holiday separately from the shopping day…bleh! It just ruins it! No more Black Friday Thursday, whatever, for me.
However, I’m not stupid! If I was planning on buying something anyway, I may as well try to get it when it’s on sale. Enter: online shopping. Hello? Killer deals for great prices with free shipping and I never have to change out of my PJ’s or get off my couch? Sign me up! Or…so you think…
Online Shopping: Take One
The item in mind: A step2 Push buggy, pink of course, to push my little K around at the park. Awwww. The steering wheel even has a horn. Super cute! Regular price: $60. Black Friday in-store deal: $25. Dang! Maybe I should go stand in line. Wait! Online price: $30. Cool! I’d spend the extra $5 bucks in gas to get there, have to wait in line four days, and they may be gone before I can even grab one. Online it is!
I put it in my virtual cart and go to checkout. Price: $60.
What?!
Reload.
Price: $60.
Okay, it’s only 11:00pm. Not officially Black Friday, nevermind the store opened at 9pm, but I can wait. So I set my alarm for 12:01am.
At 12:01am I get back online only to realize the server is so busy that it takes 15 minutes for each page to load, and that’s if it loads at all. By 1am I have made it to checkout.
Error: can’t fetch price!
What?!?! What the heck does that mean.
Reload. Checkout. Error. Repeat.
I do this multiple times.
Okay, keep in mind I’m doing this from the mobile site on my phone. So I chose to visit the full site just to see if there is a glitch. There is! Thank goodness! I really want the buggy now. I can picture it under the tree. The server is still painfully busy but by 2am I’m ready to check out.
Price: $30. Yes! Total: $72. What?!?!?!
Shipping. Yes, shipping!!! Are you kidding me? Shipping cost more than the toy?! No way! So I go back to the main site…*Free Shipping on orders of $49 or greater. Great! Well, I don’t want two buggies, but I really want the one, so let me see if they have anything else I can get for the girls…they got me!
After another hour of shopping online with dial-up page loading speed, I finally am satisfied with my selections.
Checkout. Finally! $30 toy I cane to buy, $20 worth of junk I have to buy, Grand total: $82.
Wait just a cotton-pickin’-minute!
I read the fine print: *Free shipping on orders $49 or greater up to $20 off total shipping
Are you serious? It’s 4am. And I still don’t have a buggy. I got online at ELEVEN o’clock! I could have been to the store, run somebody down with a shopping cart, been arrested, gotten bailed out, grabbed a milkshake, and been home by now. This is ridiculous! Online shopping is supposed to be easier, right?
Now I understand why people are so crazy. I will not be wasting my time again to save a few bucks. I DID not order the buggy and I’m threw with my Christmas shopping. Thank you Toys R Us for trying to con me out of $80 for a toy you are running on Black Friday sale for $25.
Again. Lesson learned.
‘Tis the season to shop for toys
12 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
My friends, the Christmas Season is nearly upon us! Well, unless you are a major department store or online retailer in which case Christmas marketing started before Halloween. Is it just me or do Christmas trees and Jack ‘O Lanterns seem like they need to be separated by at least two months or even just five aisles? Somebody should let Walmart know. It’s just weird.
There are just 42 shopping days until the big event. Six weekends. Factor in that I will need to secure a babysitter to shop, wrap and hide gifts, and find a tree and it seems like I’m already behind! I’m starting today after the alarm company leaves, but I don’t have a clue what I’m looking for…and normally I find it super easy to buy for my kids. Why does buying Christmas gifts put you under so much more pressure than buying gifts at any other time of the year?
It’s because the stupid stores start pushing the idea on you in July! Seriously, Target is about to give me an anxiety attack. Actually, I think it’s because any good parent wants their child to be pleased and happy that morning. I do. But I feel that way every morning, don’t you? Maybe it’s the tradition? It’s the one day you get to spoil your kids rotten and not hear about it from their grandparents, even though their grandparents do it all year long. Only…well, if you do the Santa thing you don’t get any of the credit! Who came up with that retarded idea? There’s definitely alot of anticipation that builds up to that one day.
So, I’m carefully considering what to get them and I haven’t got many ideas. It’s easier to make a list of things NOT to get them. Maybe it’s just me, but I peruse the aisles and reject anything that is too messy, easily broken, could be a choking hazard, or used as a weapon. For example:
Markers, paint, crayons…not on my walls, thank you very much!
Roller skates…can you say head injury?
Polly pocket, winkies, little pet shop, etc…I can clearly picture how these toys would show up on an abdominal x-ray. I’ll save my kid the radiation and bowel obstruction, and myself the ER copay.
Anything motorized…refer back to ‘head injury’ and note that I will never remember to charge it, so I’ll save myself the whining.
Bowling pins, bats, tennis rackets, drumsticks, etc…methods of assault, both against me and each other. Enough said.
Anything with four legs…this would only add one more victim for ‘assault.’
Candy…pretty sure we’ll have Halloween candy left at Easter.
So what’s left? Barbies minus the small accessories, stuffed animals, and Nerf balls? I cringe as I point out to you matted hair, a ‘one eyed duck’ cousin, and projectile weapons of mass destruction.
I don’t know how my parents survived the aftermath of Christmases past.
Happy Shopping!
What’s for dinner?
12 Nov 2011 1 Comment
I am a really GREAT cook! Really, I’m something like Rachel Ray…well, without the money…or the tv cameras…oh, or the time or the behind-the-scenes prep guys. All that fanciness aside, I can roast a pork tenderloin that will make you wanna smack your mama! I make a mean lasagna from scratch and 4-alarm chili that is on fire, meaning, it’s delicious. Man, I miss my homecooking!
One day I will cook like that again. One day. That day is NOT today. And it probably won’t be tomorrow either. It takes way too much time to cook the way I want to. This makes me sad. My hat goes off to all the moms I’m FB friends with that are always posting the four course meal they made complete with mouthwatering pictures. These moms also post pictures of the latest coordinating wardrobe they embroider for all their adorable children, and somehow manage to post a status about taking a nap too.
Nap? What’s that? I can assure you that if I found the time to nap, I wouldn’t waste precious sleep time posting about it on FB. Just saying.
But kudos to them because I’m super jealous!
My cooking habits have become so awful that today I asked Hannah if she was ready for dinner and she asked for lunch instead. School lunch is probably the most nutritious meal she gets in a day. Poor kid. Tonight, she had Captn Crunch. Two bowls actually. I’m sure there’s a food group in there somewhere, right? And hey, I put it in milk. After complaining to my friend how awful of a parent I was, she gave me this advice: Give her a spoon of peanut butter for dessert and call it a well-balanced meal! Grains, dairy, and protein.
I like the way she thinks! She’s either a really great friend or one heck of an enabler. Whichever way you swing it, I’m cool with that and slightly less guilt-ridden.
I just can’t muster up more energy than what is required to microwave some leftovers or heat up some chicken tenders. Most of the time, Hannah’s not going to eat it anyway and ask for suckers.
That reminds me…I should really make her a dental appointment. I’ll add it to my list of “Things Good Moms do that one day I’ll find time for.” Do you have that list? Weird things go on there like make homemade playdough, return the toy that Parenting Magazine announced a recall for, subscribe to Parenting Magazine, don’t give the recalled toy to the kid whose birthday you forgot to buy a gift for…you know, stuff like that.
Anyway, I need help. What’s your go-to meal? What do you make your kids that’s simple to prepare, semi-nutritious, and doesn’t strand you in the kitchen for three days prepping, cooking, and cleaning? I mean, I appreciate a hot meal for myself sometimes and those are rare when you are trying to meet the demands of two-under-four at dinner time after they haven’t seen you all day. You’d think I had moved to Alaska for a year the way they cling and whine for my attention!
Share your meals! My three year old will thank you!
Grateful Hearts
28 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
in Family Matters, Spiritual Matters for the Christian Parent
I had an interesting conversation with my best friend tonight. It was about having things/services just to have them, not because you really need them. I am so guilty of that. I’m a little ashamed.
For example, I have satelite tv. In four rooms. Which makes absolutely no sense! Why? Because I only have two TVs. You do the math. And really, only one of the two gets watched on a regular basis. Not by me, of course.
I wanted tv for two reasons. One, I wanted to be able to watch the news and the weather when the weather was bad. And two, so Hannah could watch her favorite Nick Jr shows. Great plan. Sounds reasonable. However, there are a few factors I must relay. First things first, I never have time to watch the news or figure out how my DVR works to record it, and I haven’t stayed up past 9 o’clock in months. Second, did I mention it’s satellite? Cable isn’t available in our area yet so the only “bad weather” warning I’m gonna get is the blue screen that pops up when the signal goes out each time the wind blows too hard. I’m having Dave Brown withdrawals. Somehow, I just feel safer when he’s talking. I could get sucked to Oz in a tornado and not panic as long as Dave was there giving me the VTI readings and tracking rotation patterns. Just saying.
So, in all honesty, the four-room-satellite-tv-service-with-DVR is really for the benefit of a 3 year old who, by the way, only wants it on as background noise while she plays with her My Little Ponies. And believe me, DirectTV knows this! That’s why they put the good my kid’s favorite tv channels in the premium more expensive channel package. So I am paying $80 or so a month to have the Wonderpets as ambient background music. I should have just saved my money and bought the complete seasons of all her favorite shows on DVD. I wish I had put a little more thought into this before I signed a two-year agreement.
Oh, well, for Christmas I guess I’ll complete the senselessness and buy each of the girls (and by that, I mean me) a tv. At least that way I can justify why I have service in four rooms.
But the tv is not the only unnecessary thing we have. I’ve got 3 bedrooms. We use one. My garage? I’m too scared that I’m gonna hit the house with the Mothership so it stays parked in the driveway. And the humongous fridge? Just a really expensive way to store a case of mountain dew, gallon of milk, and bottle of ketchup. That’s all that’s in there.
We could get by in a one room apartment with a mini-fridge and a parking pad. Such a waste! It’s a waste I’m grateful for but I am concerned about the message it sends to my girls. I want them to understand that what’s most important is that their basic needs are met, and they are safe, healthy, and loved. I also want to instill a sense of responsibility in them to help others. This year, for Thanksgiving I think Hannah and I will check into preparing or serving meals to those in need. It’s never too young to start modeling service and we can still make time for family and our own traditions. I have so much to be grateful for and I hope to spark that same gratefulness in the hearts of my beautiful daughters!
Worms!
25 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
I am done with the bugs! Really…I’ve had enough of all things creepy crawly. The mouse at the apartment was bad, but I survived (and so did he if you remember…yech!) Then there were the swarms of alien locusts that would wait patiently at our door, looking for an opportunity to dive bomb towards me and chew off my face! God, those things were hideous. I tried to kill one with a broom one time and I swear it screamed like a woman set on fire. I held it down as it vibrated under the broom I was trying to crush it with, but I couldn’t take the cries of terror and let go only for it to kamikaze around me in a fit if rage. Lesson learned! I never tried to kill another one. I’d just stay inside the apartment, imprisoned, until it died in the heat of the day.
And there was also the fleas. I’m so not going there!
So when we moved to our new house, I breathed a huge sigh of relief in hopes I was finally free of the bugs. Some part of me thought that the apartment was causing all my creepy crawly problems and life would be insectless once we moved. I guess I’m retarded. That, or God is blessing me with my own personal plague. We have millipedes everywhere!
Everywhere! My driveway and back porch become a sea of moving worms at night. O.M.G! I called Terminix last week and urgently pleaded for them to come out and nix my worm problem Terminator-style. It was Tuesday. The lady said she could have someone out on Saturday. I ever so politely said, “I don’t think so. I’m being invaded by worms. I’ve killed thirty just since I started this sentence. I need someone out NOW! Please.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t hang up the phone and scheduled a treatment for the next day. They tried not to come until I blew up their hotline with ‘My children and I are being eaten alive by worms’ messages and finally the guy showed up at 7pm. Whatever works, right? At least now they aren’t coming inside…well, not as many. Usually, I find one when Hannah suddenly climbs my leg in terror, screaming, “WOOORRMMM!!!” or I find baby K, barreling full-speed ahead towards one. I guess they look yummy to her. Gross kid!
Tomorrow, I guess I’ll go to Home Depot and look for something super strong to exterminate the little critters. Kryptonite, maybe, for my super worms! What the heck do you use to kill worms anyway? So if you see me out in a Hazmat suit spraying some steaming lime-green putrid liquid…keep your distance! I’m out to kill.
Flower pots, flat tires, and water puddles!
08 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment
Sorry, it’s been awhile since I blogged. I don’t think anyone really missed my nonsense but I’ll pretend like my life matters to someone. Or my calamities. Whatever. Speaking of which, I have a few more to add to the list…
So thank you to the random gentleman who stopped and helped me dislodge the ginormous plastic flower pot from between the bottom of the Mothership and the pavement. To the string of fifteen cars who passed me by as I desperately tried to kick it loose with my high heels and my umbrella, you suck and I hope you get smacked in the face with bird poop when you get out of your car. As for the owner of the flower pot that was abandoned on the middle of the street just as it curved so I couldn’t see that I was about to collide head on with it at 45mph, I just have to ask: what in the name of Jesus were you going to plant in such a HUMONGOUS pot?! A giant man eating Venus fly trap??? Somewhere in Hernando there is a Little Shop of Horrors. Trick-or-Treaters beware!
Luckily, the Mothership was de-potted with no major damage. However, this week it suffered an unsalvageable flat tire. Which, according to Gateway, is all my fault. So apparently, the light that came on Friday night that looked kinda like a “U” only with four dots at the bottom and an exclamation point in the center…well, THAT, my friends would be your flat tire light. Who knew? Not me, obviously. So I drove all weekend on a flat until it was pointed out to me on Monday morning. The guys at gateway had a good chuckle as they charged me $200 for a new tire. Considering all the snazzy signals and warnings the Mothership doles out on a daily basis, you would think the flat tire light would look something more like, oh, say…a tire! Who illustrates for Toyota?! A blind third-grader???
But the real kicker this week was the water leak behind my washer and dryer. Unbeknownst to me, the fittings to the washer were not tightly installed and have been dripping. Since we moved in! Fabulous. The water ran down the wall, saturating the Sheetrock, then underneath the tile flooring until it finally began pooling in my garage and the entrance to my master bedroom. That’s where I actually discovered it first, as I got out of bed at 6am to make Baby K a bottle and stepped in a huge puddle of water underneath the carpet nowhere near a water source. I looked like a crazy person hunting around for where it was coming from and wondering if my house had been mistakenly built on top of flipping Old Faithful! After some investigating of every exposed pipe in the entire house, upstairs and down, plus panicky calls to my builder and the utility company, I finally found where it was coming from. The slow drip underneath the hot water connection and the POCKETS of water in my Sheetrock were a dead give away. How many gallons of water can a wall hold? Too much! Then I had to move everything, shopvac up the swamp that was becoming my bedroom, and run fans on everything to try and dry it all out. Still debating whether I should just replace the wall or cross my fingers and do an anti-mold dance.
So anyway, sorry for the lack of blogging. I’ve been just slightly busy. Rest assured, however, there is never a dull (or dry) moment in the Lee household.
Dear Little Brother
21 Sep 2011 Leave a Comment
Dear Little Brother,
I may not tell you this very often but you are a heck of a special guy and I want the world to know it! You have such a sweet and tender heart when you play with your nieces. It brings me so much joy to see their faces light up when you walk in the room. They adore their Gunkle Ray! 
Tomorrow you turn 19. I can’t believe that much time has passed. It seems like yesterday you were sleeping with a Mickey Mouse blanket and playing in the dirt with your Tonka trucks. I miss those days, but I am so proud of the young man you have become. I am looking forward to watching you graduate this year, and I am also dreading saying goodbye when you leave for military training. It makes sad that I won’t get to see you when I want, but I’m excited to see all the great things you will do!
And thank you for coming to my house on a minutes notice after a long day of work and school to entertain my kids so I could pack! You were a lifesaver! That’s why I love you, Little Brother…because I can count on you!
Thank you for insisting I let you dig through the POD to get my mattress too. I was totally set to put the kids in their travel beds and sleep on the floor. No biggie! But you wouldn’t have it! You moved a table and chairs, random boxes, and a washer and dryer all by yourself to make sure I could sleep comfortably. That rocks and my back will thank you!
I should remind you, though, that I, too, was in the military and I spent a three day field exercise sleeping in a foxhole (that I dug) with a gas mask on during a lightning storm that nearly drowned me in rainwater while I was attacked by fire ants. True story! After that, the dry and carpeted floor sans fire ants doesn’t sound so bad. Just remember that image as you make your final decision to join. I mean…I’m not trying to selfishly talk you out of it or anything…Did I ever tell you the story about how they made me drink water until I threw up? Then I had to drink more…
Okay, I’ll save it for later.
I love you and I hope you have the best birthday yet!
Love,
Big Sis
