I always feel like somebody's watching me.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Worthy of Stephen King

After an excruciating trip to the grocery store with three Velociraptors disguised as my children, I made the impostors earn their keep by cleaning the house.

My eldest daughter's cleaning territory was her bathroom. She scrubbed the toilet, the sink, the counter and the mirror, hopefully not in that order. Soon after she finished her task, she decided the loose tooth that had been plaguing her had to come out. She yanked out a loose canine last night, and informed me that it's soon time for braces.

Tonight, it was a molar. Two teeth in one weekend is a new record for our family and I have decided that I need to go out and check the back field for glowing alien space craft. The Tommyknockers are coming. I don't care if my kid IS taken over by alien entities. I don't like dirty sinks and the Crocodile Dentist had to redo her scrub job, much to her dismay.

I also very much dislike pulling loose teeth, and am appreciative of the aliens and the work they do.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Pasta anyone?

I fear that I am unable to make one of the families favorite dinners anymore. We all love baked ravioli and there is never much left over when I fix it. Big bag of frozen ravioli. Check. Big jar of marinara sauce. Check. Big bag of shredded mozzarella cheese. Check. Bake it and eat it. Check. Can't get any simpler than that. Right? Well, if I take into consideration the clean up involved after a four year old projectile vomits pasta chunks all over, I'm going to have to take this one off the "easy" list.

I knew it was coming, there is a groaning and whining sound that precedes the vomit. I had her on the couch, which I had protected with towels, and a bucket at the ready. I still wasn't ready for it when it happened, and she managed to coat her jammies, her hair and most of the towel I had laid down. But let me tell you about talent. The kind of talent only a mother of three has. I can hold a puke bucket and call my husband at the same time.

Why would I call my poor husband, while he's on duty, to come home and help with a tiny Linda Blair?

"Hey, we are at threat level Exorcist here, can you come home an help me please? Since you JINXED ME?" I didn't even give him a chance to answer before I tossed my phone out of firing range.

You see, earlier in the evening during supper, he had been talking to our oldest about her morning tirade. Her complaint was that she was SO TIRED from her younger sister keeping her up with her crying the night before. He pointed out to her that there would probably be other nights she wouldn't get ideal sleep. What if she had an activity that kept her up late or WHAT IF ONE OF HER SISTERS WAS UP ALL NIGHT THROWING UP?

As soon as the tiny one started groaning and complaining that her belly hurt, I knew I had been jinxed. It's always me. I am always the one being puked on, cleaning up puke, or holding the puke bucket. When the Universe handed out jobs, I got "puke monger". Some people are destined to be pooped on by every bird that flies over them. Some people are destined to step in every animal land mine they walk near. Me, I'm a puke magnet.

So, I guess I need to come to terms with my lot in life. Not a lot I can do about it except for maybe get a young priest and an old priest and hope for the best.

Monday, March 21, 2011

SOMEBODY has a case of the Mondays!

What do you do when your computer takes a big, fat crap? You cry like a bit, fat baby, that's what. By some stroke of luck my husband decided to back up our photos, all 8,000 + of them, on a SD card. This was about three weeks ago. Had I realized it was a foreshadowing of events, I would have had him back up my thousands of iTunes songs. This makes me sad and snivelly and I can't even listen to depressing music to match my mood.

This brings us down to a seven year old iBook. The keyboard smells like B.O. and feet and most of the websites I frequent don't work with it. I am so excited to have some new followers and comments on my blog and I can't even comment back because the smelly dinosaur laptop hates me and wants to ruin my life. Which brings me to my morning.

I was informed this morning, without prejudice, that I am the most hated and worst mother ever. Oh, and death was wished upon my person. All before 7:30am. Now I am mad and I can't even listen to death metal music to match my mood.

Now the angst-ridden tween is grounded, without prejudice, the computer is apart and my world is devoid of music. And it's only Monday!

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Just one more minute...

I did not set my alarm clock this morning. Two days a week I take pleasure in NOT having to get up for anything in particular. Eight o'clock is my "sleep in" goal, since I live with three children who think sleep is merely an inconvenient thing I make them do. Their motto is the equivalent of "Are we there yet?" when it comes to sleep. They pop out of bed, "Can we be awake now?", at the most God-awful of hours. ONLY ON THE WEEKEND mind you. During the week, when I am up at the crack o' dawn, and they need to be up shortly thereafter, they are out cold, like they're sleeping off a Nyquil induced coma. It's actually crossed my mind to lie to them about what day it is to keep them in bed. Either that or actually GIVE them NyQuil....

BANG BANG BANG BANG was my alarm this morning at 7:15. My husband pulled off his Darth Vadar breathing mask and went to the door, unlocking it. (We lock our doors to keep the human octopus that is our four year old out of our bed.) Our soon-to-be six year old was at the door, frantic. "I CAN'T SMELL ANYTHING WITH MY NOSE!!" As opposed to your ears? She wanted nothing more than to inform us of her mucous-ridden nasal passages.

We got another 30 minutes of sleep before demands for sustenance were being made by the octopus. Seriously kid, bears don't eat all winter. Wanna know why? CUZ THEY'RE STILL SLEEPING.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

No Cool-Whip.

So back to my daughter's business venture. The phone rang today, a number I didn't recognize. The female caller asked for my daughter. A few minutes after retreating to her room, she emerged and informed me that one of our neighbors had called to tell her she would pay her $5 to come scoop dog poop. "I'm going to be RICH this summer."

"Did you go ask her if you could pick up her dog poop? When did you do this? Which neighbor?" Standard grilling procedure ensued.

"I put signs under everyone's doormats who have dogs." She raced around, gathering her things.

"How many phone calls should I be expecting? Do I get a cut for being your SECRETARY?" I actually swear every time the phone rings because it is ALWAYS missing and it is NEVER for me.

"MOM!" She didn't want to be late for her job. Can't shirk those doodies you know..

After she left it dawned on me that this would be the first time poop had been picked up in this lady's yard because the snow JUST MELTED. What a deal she was getting! $5 to have someone else pick up an entire winter's worth of mooky sticks.

My daughter returned home about 45 minutes later, out of breath and pink-cheeked. "I picked up FOUR Cool-Whip container's worth of poop! Do you know how much poop that is? That's a lot of poop mom. FOUR Cool-Whip containers!" She said it at least three more times.

Now all I can picture, instead of creamy Cool-Whip, which I sometimes like to eat by the spoonful, is a Cool-Whip container full of dog shit. I can't get the vision out of my head. I don't think I will ever be able to eat any sort of whipped topping again. Thanks a lot kid.

To top it all off, she managed to find an empty ice cream container to point out to me that she could have FILLED THAT TOO! Now I can't eat ice cream either. On the up side of things, my diet should now be a breeze!

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Area 51 in my own living room.

My preteen daughter carelessly left a "diary", of sorts, lying around the house today. I opened the cover and read the first page.

"I have started this notebook to record my science questions and observations. This book will bring my nature senses back to life. With good will, Cecilia"

The next several pages did, in fact, include nature observations and questions. "Why are lemons sour?" "Why are pine cones poky?" She either has not yet discovered the answers to these pressing questions or she is keeping the information "need to know."

Not so much a diary as it is more of a scientific journal. Last I checked she wasn't involved in any top secret government experiments, so I felt it fair game for blog fodder. If I disappear from existence after writing this then I guess it would be safe to assume she's involved in Black Ops.

She can add an entry when she gets home from her play date. "Why does cabbage smell when you cook it and why does it make my mom fart SO LOUD?"

There ya go, Cecilia. I've embarrassed you AND me.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Sky is the Limit

"Lose 10 pounds and two inches? Why would anyone want to lose two inches!?" My 10 year old just asked this of me as she surfed the 'net.
I squeezed my own waist to illustrate why someone would want to lose two inches. "OH!" She said, snorting. "I thought that meant height!"
Oh dear LORD no! If that was the case, I'd be eating Twinkies and HoHo's three times a day to GAIN inches. I could use a nice 5'7" instead of my measly 5'4 1/2". Don't forget the half! Although, since they can't put halves on driver's licenses, mine actually says 5'5". Whoa. Rebel. If I die in a fiery inferno, they won't be able to identify my body because the height won't match up. Oops...guess I shouldn't have let that one slip. Now my worst enemies know how to off me and not get caught.

Much to my delight, the weather has greatly improved this week. This, in turn, improved my mood and my driving skills. Much to my dismay, my eldest daughter announced that the return of nice weather and melting snow would resurrect her "business". Last summer my little entrepreneur went door to door in our neighborhood offering to scoop poop for people with dogs. That's right folks, she's gonna sling some slop and bring home the bacon. She's pretty excited about it all. Normally the tooth fairy is her only form of income and as she is currently lacking any loose teeth, she's gotta go where the money is. I will totally expect her to list "tooth salesman" on her first job application because that is just how she rolls. That, coupled with "Canine fecal removal specialist" ought to land her a corporate gig right out of the chute! Heck, she may even be able to skip college with that on her resume!

So, for all you underachievers out there, aim high. Don't hesitate or you'll miss your calling! After all, we aren't getting any taller!

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Vanity aggravated.

Yesterday the mayor of our city visited my daughter's school. Two kids in each class were chosen to ask the mayor a question and guess who's kid was chosen! You guessed it, mine. My daughter, who can't walk past a mirror without stopping to stare at herself and WATCH HERSELF TALK, also has a smart side.

The kids that were chosen got to sit in the font, in a sort of "panel". The mayor spoke to whole school about his life growing up with an alcoholic father. His father was also a smoker and the mayor told the children of his father's eventual death from lung cancer. My ten year old daughter repeated the mayor's story to me using probably the same words he had. She had, after all, hung on every.single.one of them.

The question she asked was this: What do you want to accomplish in your term as mayor? She had to stand up, in front of the whole school, introduce herself, and ask her question. She told me he answered her question first. He said that he wanted to leave our city better off than when he came. Good answer for a crowd of grade school kids I suppose. After he answered her question he said to her "I like you. You have a lot of confidence." I am not even kidding you when I say that this child was floating on a cloud ALL DAY LONG.

This man made an impression on my kid. Never mind his politics, he made her feel like she was the most important person in the world and she will take that with her forever. I fear the mirror obsession will only get worse from here on out.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Destined for Lameness.

It was brought to my attention today by my 5 year old that we will never ever go to Disney World. I asked her why not? "Because they have a ride that crushes your teeth. Gabriel told me." Gabriel is her friend at school. She also has a friend, Gerry, who was "born with potatoes in his ears."

"Really. A tooth crushing ride. I went to Disney World when I was little and I still have all my teeth."

"Well you have to PAY for it!" She had that "duh mom" tone to her voice.

"I refuse to pay someone to crush my teeth so you don't have to worry about that."

Today she is still convinced of a "tooth crusher" at Disney World although Gerry did finally admit to her that he was not, in fact, born with potatoes in his ears. Now I have to go rough up this Gabriel kid so he'll get her to believe me about the teeth crushers because apparently *I* am chopped liver and her 5 year old classmates know EVERYTHING.