Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Last night was an especially snuggly night, and as I read Caleb's Bible story for the evening, he listened more intently than usual. We read Bible stories to the kids and pray before their library-selected story each night, and typically, Caleb is about as interested in his Bible story as he is in any food that is not pizza or mac-n-cheese. He acts like its a serving of brussell sprouts he has to choke down before the main course. But last night he learned about how Jesus loves the little children. After the story, we sang "Jesus Loves the Little Children," and then he looked up at me with those big grey eyes and asked, "Momma, where is Jesus?" I explained how Jesus is in heaven, but he gave us the Holy Spirit to live in our hearts so we can talk to Jesus whenever we want and be close to HIM. Big stuff for such a little guy, I know, but what can I say, I'm not great at explaining major theological issues with three year olds on the fly.
Caleb's, ever concerned with matters of transportation, then asked, "Momma, how'r we gonna get to heaven with Jesus?"
"When it's time, he's gonna come get us and fly us off to heaven with him"
"He just can, Buddy. I'm not sure how it works really."
And then he presented his Grand Plan...
"Well Momma, what's gonna happen is, I'm gonna save a seat on my Space Shuttle for Jesus, and when we go to heaven I'll drive and Jesus will sit next to me n' Daddy, and you and Sissies will sit in the back. But you won't be scared cuz I'll give you flashlights."
And there you have it: Caleb's grand plan for how to get to heaven. Thousands and thousands of years of theology, and my boy solved all the problems in a second or two. Ah, the sweet perfect faith of a child.
Friday, December 16, 2011
I remember being that age and having the same issue... 5:30 am would roll around and I'd just be laying their waiting to be allowed out of my room to go take over the world, but now I guess I'm out of touch because I just want them to be quiet and leave me the heck alone at that time. You don't poke a sleeping bear, do you? So don't BUG me!
Mean, I know.
Last night, we told Caleb not to bother Mommy at night (for about the 400 thousandth night in a row, sigh), since he spent the previous evening calling me to play from 1 am till 4 am when he finally diegned to fall asleep again. Our instructions last night were as follows: "Do NOT call for Mommy unless you are hurt or on fire. Got it Caleb?"
"When can you call Mommy?"
"If I'm hurt or on Fi-er" (add adorable eyelash batting and your mental picture is complete)
"Good, Night night!"
6:15 a.m. this morning I hear in a lowing, plaintive voice:
"Mooooooommmmmmyyyyyyy! I'm on FIIIII-EEEEERRRR! "
Knowing full-well he was not on fire, I snickered and endeavored to ignore him and return to dream land.
But he continued. The boy repeated that he was on fire about 30 times before I finally lost my schmidt and stomped off to his room.
"What!? YOU ARE NOT ON FIRE!"
"Is it wake up time yet? I'm on fi-er. (eyelashes: bat bat)"
"UGH! GO. TO. SLEEEEEEEEP!"
And so the battle continues, until either I win, and he begins a kinder-gentler sleep cycle (see: teenage years), or I give up and allow him and his sisters (who while away their morning time singing (screaming??) garbled versions of radio tunes) to wake up and take over the world according to their wishes. I think they're winning. Dammit.
"What're we going to do today, Brain?" ... "Try to take over THE WORLD!"
Sunday, December 4, 2011
My little buddy Caleb turned three this past Friday. Something about that rings of sadness for me. Not a baby anymore. Not gonna need me so much soon.
I know, I should be jumping and shouting, I mean, the boy didn't even sleep thru the night consistently until he was 2 1/2, so I should be utterly thrilled he does that now. And he's fully and completely potty trained, which is just awesome. I'm tickled to get rid of his diaper pails, his extra wipes containers, etc. And he's riding a "big boy bike" he got for his birthday... so no more stashes of tricycles hogging space in the garage. I could go on for the benefits,...
I also have to sell my glider rocker. The one I so lovingly (and at times grudgingly with tears of sleep deprivation) rocked my downy-haired boy on night after night during feedings. We just don't need it anymore. But there in that chair, I conjure remembrances of his sweet baby aroma, his adorable coos, and his wiggly games as he attempted to escape my lap during bedtime stories.
Already long gone are his crib, his onesies, his baby spoon/fork sets... and on the chopping block now are added his strollers, smaller carseats, and various baby toys. His board books went to a friend this week. Sigh.
As a trade, I now have this wonderfully independant, immensly charming little stinker. He's just an awesome kid, and not a day goes by that Ryan and I don't share a glance across the room at each other and find each other beaming when we've seen him doing something hilarious, something new, or something brilliantly mischevious. He's crossing into worlds of imagination that I relish joining him in to get away from the adult world. Worlds where superhero's reign supreme and all dragons are either vanquished, or squashed to their end by an even more Terrible Caleb-Monster, depending on which part in his mind-stories he has chosen to play in that day. Race cars bring adventure, and fires beg to be quenched with sisters to be rescued.
And he's trying so hard to care like his sisters about learning new things in school, though his interest still lasts a mere 5 minutes. He'll joyfully declare "I know all my (colors, numbers, etc.) now!" after getting just one right, only to go woefully wrong with the next question, with sisters and Mommy snickering nearbye but still cheering him on all the more for the next attempt. He's shy like his sisters were at this age at first with new folks... but then after about 5 minutes around people, he'll open up with some of the most charming, hilarious conversation topics- the boy can really work a room with is humor and sparkling eyes.
His boundless energy is unbelievable. The boy never actually requires a nap, though he gets one each day so I can keep up with him... it's Mommy who needs the break, not him, and we both know it. And, like the lovely three-nager his sisters were, he's boldly and unashamedly trying defiance on for size, now shouting "NO! I. Don't. Want. To. and I'm. NOT. Gonna!" when told to do things with an adorable but maddening little foot stomp accompanying each syllable. He always backs down still, but it's funny because he always puts up a good fight first.
Maybe not so much for "Daddy-big-spanking-hands", but he at least works a good fight for "Mommy-butterfly-kisses-style-pitiful-spankings". ;)
He's such a little GUY, too, which brings so many humorous smiles to my life. He's delighted that he can now pee standing up like a man, relishes any-and-all guy role models (superheros, especially Spiderman, are the awesomest, to him), farts with joyous glee, and rapturously tortures his sisters to no end.
And much to Ryan's chagrin, he's definitely left-handed like his Mommy (tee hee).
I can't wait to see what my little guy will be like in the years to come, but it's just so tough to say goodbye to baby stages.
Until I remember the sleep deprivation.
THANK YOU SO MUCH CALEB FOR LEARNING TO SLEEP!
Now could you please do it past 7 am? Just once in a while?
Monday, November 14, 2011
Caleb and I were having our usually dinnertime exchange tonight after his first 2 bites of dinner..."Mommy, can I be done now?"
"Pleeeeeease, I wanna be done. How many more bites?"
"No! Eat your food, I'm not doing this again tonight (I said, knowing full well that we do this same routine every.single.night)...
(1 minute later)
"Can I be done?"
(20 minutes of the same routine repeated over and over again later)
"Can I be done NOW?"
"Caleb, you are going to make me so mad I turn purple. Do you want that?" (I asked, in perhaps my stupidest moment yet)
"YES! Purple Mommy, Purple!"
(Hand to face, Mommy's shoulders sink in failure)
"Caleb, that was not a goal, that was a threat. I'm not going to turn purple. Your going to make Mommy so mad that it's gonna make Mommy nuts. That's not a good thing Bud. Now EAT!"
"NO! Turn purple!"
"No, I'm not turning purple, and that's final!"
"PLEEEEEASE turn purple Mommy!"
(1 blissfully quiet minute later)
"Can I be done now? How many more bites?"
"CALEB! STOP IT AND EAT"
... then, from the living room I hear Ryan chime in: "Wow, he's good! Manipulative like his Daddy. You turned right purple there"
Yes, my boy is an evil genius. He has learned just how to make me change color on cue.
(What Mommy imagined happened next. )
Saturday, November 5, 2011
"Neat! Did you know that legos were named LEGO after the danish words 'Leg Godt' which means 'Play Well'? I never knew where they got their name."
Hannah: "What's Danish?"
Mom: "It's the language people speak in Denmark."
Hannah: "What's Denmark?"
Sarah (in her "duh!" voice): "Ugh, you know, that place we go shopping all the time."
Mom: "Sarah, do you mean 'Walmart?'"
Sarah: "No Mommy, I think it's called 'Denmart,'... I'm pretty sure. Right, Hannah?"
It's seems I'm wrong. Two against one- it's only fair, right?
Friday, October 28, 2011
-With laundry, as soon as you get used to righting inside-out shirts before folding them, inevitably you'll pick up a right-side-out shirt, turn it inside-out, and then have to switch it back again. Entropy.
- As soon as you clean floors, milk WILL be spilt. And yes, I do cry over it thank-u-very-much. Entropy.
- As soon as the kitchen's clean, dishwasher unloaded, and sink is empty, it's time to cook again and mess the dang thing up again. Entropy.
- Laundry all done and put away? Someone's gonna pee their pants. Why? ENTROPY.
- As soon as your hands are covered in cooking goo (eggs, bread dough, flour breading, etc.) someone WILL need hollar, "Mommy, I gotta go POO POO right now!" - Damn you entropy!
And don't even get me started on crumbs and sand on my floor.
So in sum, thank you Pastor Frank, for giving name to the force that shapes my days, keeps me addicted to caffienated drinks, and sucks the nice-mommy-ness out of me. I also plan to blame entropy for my fluffy midsection, the need for padded bras, and those white hairs I keep pulling out. Believe me, it's much nicer to blame (poorly understood) thermodynamic principles than to go on a compulsive cleaning rampage, swearing at my family and digging thru closets full of stuff better off buried anyway. And in the meantime, I'll keep singing this song, cause it sums up what gets me thru the toughest days, when Entropy carries a sledgehammer thru my otherwise peaceful world...
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
"Pinch-nut!" she declared. "Call me PINCH-NUT!"
Somewhere behind her was the sound of my mother, Ryan, and I falling out of our chair with giggles. Papaw was, as yet, unawares, since he can't hardly hear a word they say. He giggled too, though, once we hollered it to him. ;)
Meanwhile, after about a million "Pinchnut" jokes throughout the weekend and a day or so, Sarah offered up the evening blessing before our meal. Her Nonnie, as we call my mom, was so impressed with Sarah's prayer that she declared, "She's my little evangelist, that one."
"Just call her 'Pastor Pinchnut'!," I stated.
And so, "Pastor Pinchnut," she is.
The End. Snort.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
So I've compiled a list of the girls' tricks and trouble-making for your further enjoyment. They usually work as a team at most of this, with Caleb as their target. In my little Buddy's defense, I figured I should even out the scale a bit by recording a little sampling of his sisters' favorite torture-tactics:
Like an amped up, meaner version of "red-rover," the girls will band together as a team to play keep away with Caleb's most favored toys. Poor kid doesn't stand a chance... like the kid from The Shining gazing down the hall at the creepy ghost twins (wanted to post a picture but it scared me too much, so I'll just leave you with your own mental image ;)) In the end, he usually just squeals and runs off, but he has been known to hurl heavy objects at their twin Berlin Wall, which just makes me feel bad when I have to punish both the girls AND Caleb.
2. Bunkbed Shut-Out:
Caleb is not allowed on the top bunk of the bunk beds in either his or his sisters' room, and the girls know it and take full advantage. So on those occasions where Mommy makes the girls allow their little brother in on the action in their rooms, they will just flee to a higher altitude for their play, making it impossible for him to join in the fun. For extra brother-torturing fun, they will hurl stuffed animals and pillows at him, which at first is kinda fun to the little guy, until he realizes he can't hurl them back. He has the perfect revenge, though, because while the Rapunzel twins are up in their tower, he can ravage the lower parts of their room and wreak havoc upon their toys ;)
3. Death by Volume:
It's a well-known fact that a five year old girl can achieve heights of vocal volume and pitch that would shock even the most-skilled opera go-er. So when Caleb invades one of the diva's space, the offended girl will usually use her sound forcefield as a weapon, deploying a bone-shattering, angry rant that makes curse words unnecessary. When needed, this weapon can be deployed from the time-out spot across whole clusters of rooms, and does not diminish during a spanking, making it one of the girls' most trusted and oft-used strategies of brother-torture.
I have WRATH!
It's kinda not fair that Caleb has to live his life like a parolee with his parole officer breathing down his neck. The sisters feel that it is their job in life to report him for every offense, no matter how trivial, so that Mommy can be the one to inflict pain and punishment. It's their way of making the job of driving Caleb crazy simpler without actually having to lift a finger.
They look sweet and innocent, I know, and usually they're just cute little chuckleheads who sing loud hymns out of tune and dress themselves and their dolls in outlandishly mismatched outfits, but occasionally a dark side appears. I'll never pretend to understand sibling rivalry, having been an only child, but I know God has a sense of humor giving me three kids after spending my childhood up my Mom's rear-end driving her crazy all the time begging for siblings. I think even if Jesus himself were standing right in front of them, one of them would be trying to elbow out the other two to be first in line to meet him. It's just a sibling thing, I guess ;)
*Ok, now I guess I have homeland security flagging me and reading this because of my wording... hi there big tough guys, it's just lil' ole' me spouting my usual snarky mommy-nonsense. No real bad stuff here, I pinky swear!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Sarah, singing to the tune of B-I-N-G-O: There are 7 Continents, Antarctica's the cold one. North America, South America, Australia, Europe, Asia, Africa.
Hannah: Ok, this time you say Koala when I say Australia. This time you say Koala when I say Australia. LISTEN TO MEEEEEEE! THIS TIME SAY KOALA SARAH! SAY IT! SAY IT! SAAAAAYYYYY ITTTTT! SARAH!
Sarah (At the same time Hannah is squealing the above orders to Sarah): I'm gonna sing and not listen to you LA LA LA. North America, South America. LA LA LA. Not listening to youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhahahahahahahahahahaha! Australia, EUROPEASIAAFRICA!
Sarah: I'm not gonna talk to you or play with you ever again!
(5 second pause)
In unison: Ok, now listen kids, "[both kids break into a song rendition of the Lord's Prayer]"
Sarah: Ok, now this time, we're gonna learn another song about God so you can know about God, and Hannah, if they don't sing, you smash their heads together.
Hannah: Oooh, I'll smash em and send em to jail.
I had to stop listening at this point from giggling so hard in the hall outside their door (I moved from my spot at the monitor so I could hear better). I swear I've never smashed a head or even threatened them mildly for not participating in lessons, so where do they come up with this stuff? My kids are nuts!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
"Ok, which one Caleb?"
"What bally ball?!"
"The round one."
"...(Stunned, stifled-laugh silence)...Can you be more specific?"
"The one that bounces!"
"Ohhhkayyy, that's closer to helpful, but they all bounce... just tell me which ball you want... do you want the tennis ball?"
"What color ball was it? Wait a minute... you call everything purple... let's see... was it the one with Buzz Lightyear?"
"No! The one that goes in the street!"
"THEY. ALL. DO. THAT!"
(four minutes of frustrated guesses later...)
"Let's just look in the toybox for it" We shuffled thru the toybox for about 5 seconds before he noticed the same foam basketball that he was looking at 5 seconds before this all started...
"Der it Is! I got it Mommy!" and off he trotted happily outdoors.
As I shuffled outdoors, bitterly I thought of all the wonderful things I could have done with those 5 minutes of my life while trying to sort out what my adorable little imp was wishing for ;) Reminds me of an old skit I loved of Abbot and Costello...
Abbot & Costello Who's on First by jwj
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
And now with school starting next week, who knows when I'll find the time to pop in and write, but I promise I'll try, really I will. Even if it's just to update what we're up to with school. So here's the scoop on us lately: the kids are great... all three have taken to the water this summer like little ducklings, whether it's in the pool or at the lake. And our friends and church buddies must think we've been kidnapped after not seeing us much of the summer, but really, who can resist camping when we do it in such glamorous style (really, we call it "glamping"... you can't call it camping when you have a/c, cable, and hot water on demand, and you do nothing but lay around on a floaty in the middle of the lake all day whilst children whoop with glee and swim endlessly around you).
When we weren't at the lake, we've been either frolicking in the sprinklers out back, splashing in friends' pools, or at the zoo. This is the life.
And now school is ramping up, and though I can't say I'm stoked, I am looking forward to it. This year, in addition to learning at home, the kids are in preschool/kindergarten classes at Grace Academy, a lovely local co-op we discovered last year, and I and my good buddy Lamanda will be teaching the girls' class of romping, stomping 5 year olds. I'll be teaching more of the "Five in a Row" curriculum at home, and supplementing with Math-U-See and reading instruction. Sarah starts 2nd Grade Hooked on Phonics, while Hannah is working on improving her phonemic awareness skills and simple sight word recognition with some kindergarten level readers thrown in. Sarah just sails thru reading and math instruction, while Hannah seems to have a slower pace, but that's just the beauty of homeschooling them, no pressure. I want Hannah to develop a LOVE for reading, at the pace that's developmentally right for her, while not holding Sarah back from her voracious appetite for devouring books whenever they're given to her. I'd also love to start adding in a little Spanish here and there, but I'm not sure where to begin there, so that's a work in progress... for now, Dora, Diego, your my team. Don't let me down.
And many folks have asked what I'm doing with Caleb all this time. I plan on sticking him in the closet on a coathook while I teach, just to keep him out of the way.
Ok, well, while we're not doing anything formal during school time for him, I am going to encourage him to join us at the table whenever he desires for storytime, crafting, songs, etc. If he's interested, great. If not, that's ok too. I'll keep working informally on getting him to know his colors, shapes, and letter/numbers (Gah! He's so close on his colors and shapes, and just when I think he's got it, he yells, "TRIANGLE!" when I ask him what color grass is... I think at this point he must be messing with me). And when he's not working, my little buddy does just great playing with his toys nearby, smashing and crashing about and destroying the room while we work at the table. During breaks, he gets lots of Mommy time, too, for stories, cuddles, snacks, or whatever else he might want. It's a rough life that boy has, I tell ya.
The cool thing for us, though, is P.E. includes frolicking in the sprinkler while it's still warm out, riding bikes around the block, and chasing after each other in hide and seek. Field trips are whenever and wherever we want, with no stupid permission slips needed. And when we're all just feelin' funky, skip it, it's kindergarten and they need to be outside playing and learning about life more than they need to be filling out worksheets and answering rote questions. I'm in seventh heaven at home teaching these kids, even if they drive me batty on a frequent and consistent basis. Friends always say, "Good for you, I'd never be patient enough to teach my kids." I hope someday I'll be patient enough, too, but for now I'm just covering us in prayer and hoping God guides them more than I do, because if this blog proves one thing, it's that I could work a bit on the "patience" dept. And the "not cursing" dept. But I got the "shower your kids with love and teach them about grace and maybe some worldly stuff along the way," dept. covered. ;)
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
My headgear makes me impervious to my sister's poundings. Tomorrow, I'm going to take over the world.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
In our play area, there is a water theme... so there are little whale playseats, slides in various shipwreck and sea animal shapes, and little ride-ons like turtles and boats. Caleb claimed one boat for his own (much to the dismay of two watching little girls... that's it buddy, Mommy is the only girl for you!), and was happily pretend fishing when I heard him remark, "There's something wrong with the motor! The boat won't start, I'm gonna have to get out and fix it!" He then continued to repeat this little drama about 10 more times before giving up and surrendering his boat to the waiting girls, who were all to happy to snatch up the broken boat for their own.
For those of you who don't quite get Caleb's reference to the broken boat...
Ryan has a boat. A boat that almost assuredly never actually starts when you need it to. And guess what Daddy says every time we're marooned on his boat? It's so funny what they pick up when you don't intend for them to be listening... :)
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
3. The Toss Across
in his trusty time out chair. Again. With his foot in the electrical plug to drive mommy crazy. Again.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
I searched the dusty, Barney-brainwashed files of my brain and could find no reference to chop-sticks, so I challenged, "Hannah, Nonnie never gave you a chop-stick... what on Earth are you talking about?"
Hannah's voice ramped up about three million decibles and at least 2 octaves, "THE CHOP-STICK! Mommy, you didn't forget it did you! I neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed my CHOP-STICK!"
"Hannah, have you lost your mind? We haven't had chinese food or sushi in ages- I. have. no. idea. what. you. are. talkingabout!"
"MOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYY! I gotta have my chop-stick! Can we go back to Aunt Catherine's to look for it?"
"Um, No. I'm sorry, you must have lost it but I'm not going to go looking for a chop-stick. Why did Nonnie give you one, anyway!?"
Hannah replied in glass-shattering staccato notes:"My lips are dry, Mommy! I need my chop-stick!!!!"
"OOOOOOoooooohhhh! I have your CHAP-stick in my purse, Hannah. CHAP-stick... not chop-stick."
"Oops...so, you have it?"
"(Sigh) yes dear. You can have it when we get home."
I'll never get to eat Chinese without a little giggle to myself again. :)
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
"MOMMA, YOU LET IN A WASP!"... "Crap! No Ryan to kill this thing," I thought to myself, "now I hafta look tough and get it out or kill it myself." I pretended an air of confidence that would have won me an Oscar, chasing the bug around with a thick junk-mail envelope, my weapon of choice for stalking errant bugs since cancelling my daily newspaper subscription. The air of confidence came to a sharp halt, though, once a missed strike led to me losing where the bug was in my sights. "Where is IIIIIIITTTTT?! I can't find IIIIITTTT!," I hollered in a panic. Suddenly, the bug reappeared and was no more after a swift swipe of my American Express pre-approval envelope (hey, it is good for something!). After I left to drop the carcass outside and returned indoors, my children hollered triumphantly, "Yay! Momma, you got it!" Sarah, who is a hopeless t.v. addict, added, "Yeah, Momma, you saved the T.V.!"
Sarah's are apparently to save the t.v. above all else :)
"You can take my family (esp. the little brother), but I'll be darned if you're getting my cartoons!"
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I hung my head in shame while Ryan corrected the dear in-between giggles. And by the way, the child has seen and interacted with both cows and goats before... unfortunately though, she's got more of my genes than I thought because as smart as she is, she still has a little dingbat in her at times, too ;)
And just to prove the boy knows his stuff when it comes to construction...
The boy was on a bit of a "cherry picker" bent today, but believe me, he's done the whole book before flawlessly without prompts. Cracks me up!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Also, one time at the grocery store, he was flirting with the cashier with his eyes while waiting for the line to advance, and when we got to the counter, leaned in and asked, "How you doin'" ala Joey from "Friends" (which he's never seen... please don't call the Mommy police on me). The cashier then couldn't help but fall in love with my little 2 foot romeo, but alas, he knows where his skittles and potty training star stickers really come from, and in the end, I convinced him that Mommy is still the better girlfriend for him.
Then today, I see my sweet blonde angel playing on the floor with tinkertoys when suddenly one doesn't quite fit the way he wanted. So out from my cherub's mouth comes this little doozy: "DAMMIT!" With a side of "Dammit dammit!" After picking my jaw up from the floor and disciplining him, the guilt set in. "Caleb baby," I said, "that was a horrible no-no word you said, and it's never ok to say it. I know Mommy says it sometimes when I'm mad, but that's wrong. I'll make a deal with you, if Mommy says that word, you tell Mommy that it's a no-no word and that it's bad and that Mommy should never say it. You are not to ever say that word again, you hear me?" "Yes Maam. Sorry Momma"...
So now I'm realizing just how much my toddler has in common with the dementia patients I used to take care of. They could swear up a blue streak, but ask them to remember simple things, like how to remember to shower or not pee in the trash can, and they get a little stumped. Same thing with toddlers. Caleb can apparently remember a curse word I've used, oh maybe a dozen times, without difficulty, but ask the boy to name his colors, numbers, shapes, or letters (which we go over at least eleventy gabillion times a day) and he's at a loss, left only to patently shout out "green!" or "b!" randomly here and there in the incorrect context. I have no doubt he'd pee in a trash can before choosing to go potty in a toilet, as well...just ask my mom what he did in her brand new tub (haha you just told me not to post it on facebook :) ).
I will now accept my "shame on you, you horrible Mommy" award... yes, I broke my toddler. But he's got an excellent chance of making millions with a career in standup comedy or public radio even if he never learns those minutia of academia I keep bugging him about.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
to this:before you could say, "Oh Snap!"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE OUT OF STOCK!... DO YOU ACTUALLY MEAN TO TELL ME YOU COULDN'T CALL ME IN THE 6 HOURS SINCE I LEFT TO TELL ME YOU ARE OUT OF MY DAUGHTER'S DRUG?!!!"
At this point the checker stepped back and you could almost hear her signalling, "Code B at the checkout counter! Alert! Alert! We have a CODE B! Crazy -itch at the checkout counter!"
The manager appeared, and I explained my ploit: "I'm told you are out of stock for Augmentin. How is it I had to schlep three sick kids down to the Walmart pharmacy, which I'm pretty sure is one of Dante's CIRCLES OF HELL, not once but twice in one day, only to find out you couldn't pick up the phone and call me in the 6 hours you've had my prescription sitting out."
Her reply, "Um, are you part of our auto-text program, because we can tell you this info by text in the future if this ever happens again"
"Happens AGAIN!? Are you saying this is a normal occurance?! And yes, so you know, I am a part of that program, but even if I weren't, you have like a MILLION copies of my information on that little computer of yours and you're saying you can't call me at home instead of texting if there's a problem?! Did I mention I have THREE sick kids here in this cart, and that this has RUINED my evening. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage three small people on a good day, let alone manage to keep them from sucking up every rogue germ in this place while in the pharmacy section here?"
"Yes, maam. I know it must be hard, I have a kid myself so I know it's tough"...
At this point I had to restrain myself not to put my shoe up her nose. Please don't get me wrong, Mom's-of-one, but it is exponentially harder wrangling two or more people in a shopping cart, let alone the overly-loud, virus-crazed grumps I had yesterday.
"Maam, I'm going to call another Walmart and see if they have this in stock."... this was followed by 20 minutes of Walmart-hell-waiting while she whispered frenzily over the phone to someone else. "Maam, they have this Rx at another Walmart (which is a half hour away)... they'll have it ready for you in a half hour when you get there. Again, so sorry."
I might have cried at this point.
I loaded three sad, dissapointed little grumpies into the car for another trip in rush hour traffic, only to repeat the same routine of "Please, you can't all hold my hand in the parking lot at once, please stop wrestling your sister's hand, no we can't visit the bathroom just to see if they have awesome auto-flush toilets, please be good I'msorryIcan'tgetyouhomeintimetoplayyyyyyy!" a half hour after the origional version in another Walmart parking lot. At the front of the line, I'm told, "Oh, we told them (the other Walmart pharmacy people) we'd have to contact your doctor before we can begin filling this." I definitely cried at this point. Then I explained my situation and begged for help because I knew this was not THIS pharmacy's fault, but what I needed now was mercy, assistance, Augmentin, and a big fricken bottle of xanax for my nerves. My Rx was done after another 30 mins in the waiting area, whilst my children mopped up every germ in the place and the people in line scowled angrily at me for making their wait longer by insisting my stuff be pushed to the front of the que.
We left at 3:30, and arrived home to my parent's house, who were kind enough to prepare dinner, at 6. Needless to say I'm transferring my prescriptions elsewhere and having words with higher-ups today, but since this blog is here for me to vent occaisionally, please allow me to do so. And please feel free to vent along with me... I know we've all been there! It's just rare for me to turn from a confrontation-hating wimp to an angry she-wolverine who could have made Kim Jong Il or Kadhaffi piss themselves and retreat, but I guess all of us have a breaking point. Oh snap!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
"Hi, my name is Peggy..."
You ask him, "Does your tummy hurt?"..."*Djess (*yes)" (he nods emphatically, pie eyed and with a goofy grin)
"Does your throat hurt?!"..."Djess"
"Why aren't you eating?!"..."Djess"
"Can you fly?"... "Djess"
"Is your name Fred?"... "Djess"
It really is maddening. I'd love to find out whats up with the boy, but I'm afraid I'll probably never get an answer and a day or two from now he'll just mysteriously start eating again (I hope).
And this isn't our first go round in the nut-case infested waters of parenting. I remember the first time Sarah ever had a real temper tantrum. She was about 18 months old, and one minute she's playing happily on the floor with her sister, and the next minute she stood up, opened her mouth, and began a keening wail that continued for what seemed like an eternity. We tried and tried to figure out what could be wrong with the little pixie... "Did your sister hurt you?" ..."Waaah!" "Are you hurt?!" "Waaah!" "Sad?!" "Waaah!" "What the heck is wrong, Sarah?!" "Waaah!" ... this continued on for a good 45 minutes before we threw up our hands and decided to take her to the nearby E.R. for an exam because we figured there had to be something bodily wrong for a person to continue crying hysterically for that long for no discernable reason. Luckily for our pocketbooks, by the time we got into the parking lot of the E.R. it was like a switch was suddenly hit and she all of the sudden stopped crying and started sweetly singing "Amazing Grace" in her babyish version of slurred chinese with her sister accompanying next to her from her carseat. We never did find out what caused the breakdown, but we soon learned that this was just the first of many episodes of emotional hysterics which came to be Sarah's norm for when she had tantrums at that age.
I remember another episode when Hannah was just 5 weeks old, still a squirming, wriggling mound of angry pink mush in a onesie (the angry part, alas, continues still today, sigh...that girl has a blazing temper!)... she hadn't pooed in two days, which was really unusual for her, since she was still a tiny infant, and she had also gone from an angry ball of pink mush to a completely furious ball of kicking screaming mush. Being new parents we threw up our hands and drove her to the E.R. at 10:30 at night to try to see what was causing the back-up. We were also so severly sleep deprived, which can drive even the most rational person to thinking up the strangest scenarios for their baby's woes ("Did her stomach explode?! Are her bowels twisted and deformed and she'll never lead a normal life and I'll have to feed her that $9000 formula that that kid on the Discovery Channel Medical Mysteries show needed because they had the same diseased bowel problem?? Will she never lead a normal life?? Oh woe is us!")... by the way, let me digress here and say, if you are expecting a child or are a new parent, NEVER WATCH THAT SHOW!... The Discovery Health people seem to make a sport out of convincing normal, well-educated parents that their child could have any number of unpronounceable, unheard of diseases just becuase they seem to cry at a different pitch or, say, haven't pooped in 2 days... Also, never ever Google your child's symptoms. They will have you convinced your child has one foot in the grave in no-time.
So $600 in X-rays later, the Dr. in the E.R. walks in with good news. "Well, I can't find anything really wrong with her, but she really is full of crap." I'd love to see the diagnosis code for that one. It's definitely a genetic disorder, though.
So we took our angry squirming princess home and after about an hour spent bicycling her teensy little legs, she erupted like Mt. Vesuvius all over the wall, the carpet, her blankets, and her Mommy, after which all was once more right with the world.
Don't get me wrong, kids are soooooooo worth it, but I know now why parents' hair seems to gray faster than couples without kids. Any insight into what's up with Caleb would be much appreciated, because for now he remains my little "mystery wrapped in a diaper". He may be able to talk, but it's not much more informative than "Mr. Peggy" at the moment.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Him: I'll save you! Here, have some Baked Alaska!
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
"Mommy"= I love you or am super-thankful for something you did
"Mommy" (extra long vowel version)= what I call you if I'm tattling, or if I want your attention at 3:00 am
"Mommy" squared (aka "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy...!")= what I call out when you are on the phone or don't answer the first time at 3:00 am
"Mom"= neutral ordinary Mom... I neither love you or hate you at this particular moment, but I must call out this name before everything I say because your sanity is not my priority (i.e. MomIfinisheddinnerMomI'mwashingmyhandsMomdad'shomenowMom...")
"Mom" (extra long vowel version, or alternatively, "Mo....om!")= What I say before I'm going to complain about something you said, did, or thought.
"Ma"= Southern version of Mom... also what I'll call you when I'm a teenager and don't wan't my friends to know I care about you in the least
"Mama"= This ALWAYS gets an extended vowel at the end, and at times, in the middle. What I say when I want to whine about something to you. Can also be used as a neutral term, esp. in the South.
"Ugh"= What I'll call you when you are just the most uncool, unfair, awful Mommy on the planet. Accompanied by eye rolls and turning away from you to stress my irritation. With the girls turning 5 soon, that's the one I get called more and more often. I figure it will crecendo in the preteen years and become no more than a sullen muted growl. Again I stress... time, please stop now! I wanna be Mommy forever!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Fast forward to the next day, I'm driving in the car and I get cut off by some guy who apparently didn't notice me coming down the road he was turning onto, and without looking, the driver pulled right out in front of me, making me have to brake harder than usual to accomodate him rather than end up wedged in his driver's side door. "Moron!," I (ashamedly) exclaimed. "What's wrong Mommy?" my darlings asked in unison. "Sorry kids, it's just that bad drivers put Mommy in a very bad mood and make me angry. I shouldn't have name-called though." Next remark was priceless: "That's ok, Mommy. When we get home you can have one of your happy pills and feel all better"...
If only it were that easy, baby. Now I have to brainwash the events of the last few days so they don't think mere substances can erase heartaches and pain. But first I'll have a good giggle at their sweet humor :) But I got the lesson... my snide sense of humor can sometimes teach them the wrong ideas, and maybe (ok, certainly) I need to keep a tighter reign on my tongue around them.