life with WE

There were three in the bed and the momma said, I'm crowded, get the f out!

I woke up this morning with feet near my face.  "Weird," I thought to myself, remembering that Mike is out of town. 

As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, the evening started coming back to me.  Ah yes.  I'd promised Warren he could sleep with me one night while Mike was gone and last night was his night.  Of course, Warren sleeping in my room requires more steps than I'd like.  We needed his night light, his bedtime music, could I close the door to the bathroom, and could he put his arm on me for a little bit?  Fine fine and fine.  Whatever.  By 9:30 he was grinding away on his teeth and I was wide awake and annoyed.

I snuck out of the room to play on the computer for awhile, returning to bed at 10:30 surprised to find that the tooth grinding was still in progress.  Ugh.  I put one pillow over my head and hoped for the best.

At 3 a.m. I felt as if eyes were burning a hole into the back of my head.  Yeah, they were.  And those eyes were attached to Elaine who 'had a bad dream and needed to get in bed with me'.  Sweet.  She climbs over me, kneeing me in the bladder in the process and settles into the middle of the bed.  For the next hour she proceeded to put her arms in the air, talk to herself, and play with her stuffed animal.  I groaned at her and begged/demanded that she 'get some freaking sleep' now.

At 4:30 I woke up again, and the three of us were in an 'H' shape.  Elaine had her feet on Warren and her head on me.  5:15 and I had no covers, she had them all UNDERNEATH her because she was hot.  At 5:45 the sound of two children grinding their teeth woke me up.  By 6:15 we were all wide awake.  And the fighting commenced.  "You have all the covers!"  "I want to lay by mommy!"  "Can we turn on the TV yet?"  "My stomach hurts!"

I answered none of them.  Instead I got up, locked myself in the bathroom and sat in the shower for 40 minutes.  I'm certain I drained the hot water tank and burned off two layers of skin.  I gave myself a mental pep talk and decided to exit the bathroom happier than I'd gone in.

"Okay you two, it's time to get dressed for school!" 

"But we're so tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrredddddddddd.  Can't we stay home today?"

I think my towel turban wrapped head spun around five times as my eyes turned red and my voice dropped about seven octaves and went all evil-like.  "Absolutely not.  NOW MOVE IT!"

And now surely my day can only get better, right?

If the truth shall set you free, what will lying bring you?

Oh Elaine and the lying. 

She's a liar liar pants on fire.  And she has no 'ticket' item for me to threaten her with.

I've explained time and time again how she will get in more trouble for lying than for whatever she did that she's lying about.  I've told her she always has to tell us the truth, no matter what.  I've explained that we'll always love her even when she makes bad choices, so telling the truth just has to be done.

And still, she lies.

She lies like a rug.  She's a fibber.  Her nose is growing.

It's never about anything horrendous, but it's there.  And it's constant.  Most recently it involved covering up a few bathroom accidents.  Did she really think she could hide pee-soaked underwear in her closet and I wouldn't find them?  (Also, GROSS.)  Did she think she could come to my room reeking of urine, lie to me about peeing herself and assume I would not find the PUDDLE OF PEE ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR NEXT TO A PAIR OF PEE SOAKED UNDERWEAR?  Did she think I would not check the toyroom to see if she had indeed picked up her capri sun and candy wrappers?

Basically, what I'm saying is, does the girl take me for a fool?

When I bust her for lying and yell at her, she does this thing where she lowers her gaze and looks as if tears are forming.  But the tears never spill and instead the mouth smirks and she giggles.  People, that is like adding gasoline to a fire.  UGH!  So very frustrating.  I call my mom to vent my frustration and she laughs.  She laughs and laughs and thinks it's hilarious that she'll lie to my face like my youngest sister Jackie did.  (That's right, I'm pointing at you you sticker stealing pumpkin switcher uniform slipper!)

I can punish Warren by taking away legos or the wii.  The threat of taking away those things is enough to scare that kid straight.  Elaine on the other hand has no favorite thing.  She flits from toy to toy and uses her imagination so much that she doesn't really require toys.  She doesn't love the wii, she doesn't love baby dolls.  The best I came up with was taking away TV, but how in the world does that relate to lying?  And I still don't think its enough.

I tell you, that girl of mine, she frustrates me.

The madness inside my house

They streak past me as I work on making dinner.  He's chasing her, she's giggling.  The noise level is at the max.  It's been like this for hours.  For days.  For weeks.

They're wound up - can't burn enough physical energy.  It's too cold outside.  Too wet.  Too dreary. 

They're kids.  They are made for motion.  And my two kids are in constant motion.  Which generally isn't a problem except when the constant motion is in the house.  And it's like day 100 of it.  And the noise level never decreases, it only increases.  And this will surely end with one of them hurt, blaming the other. 

So I snap.  As I've done for the past 100 days (which by the way is a total exaggeration, but it seems like it's been that long).  They pause, look at me with hurt in their eyes and get quiet for a moment.  But the temptation, it's too great.

She giggles.  That contagious giggle that gets her going and eventually radiates from down deep in her belly.  It's irresistible.  He loves the giggle as much as we do, so he starts chasing her again. They're off. 

I should be happy that they aren't fighting.  I should revel in the fact that they are playing together, getting along.  I should find the joy in my children being children.

I should.

I will.

Patience, I've got to find some.  Grip, I've got to get a.  Chill pill, I definitely need to take one.

There is a reason they make headlights automatic these days.

I parked on the side of the street, checking the signs to make sure I was parked in the right area.  Two hour parking, I wondered out loud.  I turned off my headlights, sat there for a moment, and decided that surely that two hour parking law was not enforced at night.

I darted into the restaurant, meeting up with two girlfriends.  Over the next three hours we chatted and dined on some fabulous pizza.  (Sidebar.  Taking a break from the healthy eating kick to splurge on good pizza while talking with some girlfriends?  Freaking fantastic.)  I wanted to stay awake, so this time I refrained from alcohol opting instead for about oh, seven Diet Cokes.

Finishing our meals, we said our goodbyes and headed out for our drives home.  Three blocks away from the restaurant I spot the lights in my rear-view mirror.  My heart starts beating out of my chest.  It's a cop.  Dude, what have I done?  And my mom is SO gonna kill me.

Wait!  I'm 35 freaking years old.  That's right.  Deep breaths.

The officer approaches the car and I roll down the window and quickly realize Raw Dog Comedy on satellite radio is now dropping f bombs every minute.  Whoops.  Turn that off, stat.

"Ma'am?  Did you wanna go ahead and turn your headlights on now?"

Sunuvabeotch.  The one time I take them off of the automatic setting...

"Yeah.  Sorry about that officer."

"I'm going to need your license and proof of insurance.  I'll be right back after I write this up."

A few minutes pass and I get giggly.  I mean who worries about what their mom will say about a ticket AS A FREAKING ADULT AND MOTHER MYSELF?  The cop comes back up to the car and says, "I didn't write you up, but we do have to record every time we pull someone over.  I basically wanted to make sure you weren't drunk and that you would turn your lights on."

"Thanks officer.  Sorry again about that.  And um yeah, when do you think I'll be old enough that I quit panicking when I get pulled over?"

"Never.  Now drive safe!"

Food wonderful food.

When you are trying desperately to eat right and possibly lose weight (a gal can dream can't she?) you realize you ate the like the freaking queen of England back in the day!

Not recently back in the day.  Back in the day back in the day.  No, over the past few years (the recently back in the day), I've eaten relatively healthy.  Oh sure there was the random indulgence in the occasional/frequent/daily alcoholic beverage.  Sometimes there would be takeout from a Chinese place and of course that required crab rangoon.  Oh, and a jaunt or four to Red Robin for a banzai burger and fries dipped in ranch.  And what was I saying?  Because the drool from the thought of fries dipped in ranch has shorted out my computer.

We've done fairly well healthy foodwise as a family.  Wheat bread, chicken, fish, whole grain pasta, salads and such.  Of course our kids are allowed poptarts and Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal.  And candy.  On occasion.  Or daily - as in we are still working on the freaking Halloween candy because I only let them have two pieces a day okay?  But before they eat that candy, they have had a well balanced lunch and they snack on yogurt. 

But as I was saying... the eating like the Queen of England back in the day.  Ah, before my metabolism quit on me.  Before the world was worried about trans fats and whole grains and calorie counting.  Back when Martha Rounds Slimnastics was all the rage and my mom belonged to Vic Tanny and we loved the smoothie bar there.  I don't think there was a lot of working out then, more just running around in leotards.  Back in those days, Cap'n Crunch was my required daily food.  2 bowls for breakfast, another one after school and one before bed.  All served with fabulously fatty whole milk.  Ooh and as a child my most favorite lunch was egg salad.  Fatty fatty egg salad made with miracle whip served on white bread.  Second fave?  Salami and super sharp cheddar cheese on white bread with miracle whip and sometimes plain Charles Chips smashed on top.  And at my grandma's?  A hot dog stuffed with cheese, wrapped with bacon and then broiled to perfection.  Served with a bottle of RC cola and followed up by a homemade chocolate malt in a real old school malt maker (which my grandpa still uses every day and I so wish I had one).

Yum.

As I sit here eating my oatmeal (lowering my cholesterol) and drinking my coffee with splenda in it, I think back to those good old days.  Ah cap'n.  I miss you so.  You were a good man.  And egg salad?  You had me at hello. 

Let me reminisce about your favorite childhood foods.  What did you eat back in the day that you couldn't dare touch now?  One of your faves.  Leave it in the comments so I can come back and drool while eating my salad with light dressing later for lunch.

Brain dump to do list.

Warren has trouble sleeping.  He can't fall asleep well, he doesn't stay asleep well, and he basically wakes at the same time every morning, regardless of what time he went to bed.  He's had night terrors.  He's had bad dreams.  He's come to me so many times saying that his 'brain hurts' and he 'can't stop thinking' that I lost count.

Yes, I was that child.  I fretted over so many things out of my control that I had gazillions of bad dreams and ran to my parents room unable to sleep.  I'd lie on their floor, get in their bed, or head out to the living with my dad.  He'd turn on the TV to distract me and he'd fall asleep while I watched M*A*S*H wondering how in the world watching soldiers die in a hospital was going to help me get over the fear of everyone I loved dying.

In an effort to help with Warren's sleep, Mike and I created the 'brain dump' (patent pending).  Warren reads for about a half an hour right before bedtime to wind down.  Then one of us goes in his room to help him dump out his brain before he goes to sleep.  My theory is that if he can give us his worries, he won't have them in his head. Verbalizing them could help him get rid of them.  Half of the time we don't even know what he's brooding over - he tends to keep it all in and then just act like a jerk or cry for no good reason.  My logic was that Warren could give his worries or concerns over to Mike or I so that he no longer has to worry about them.  When we pitched the 'brain dump' idea to him, we said he could use that time to tell us anything he was worried about, nervous about, plans he's always making etc.  But then he would be on his own to fall asleep, chill and relax.  He was all in.

Genius, right?

We thought so.  Until it turned into just another stalling technique for bedtime.  I'm not saying it doesn't really help him - I think it does.  But I think now it helps him in a different way.  Instead of his worries, now he seems to use brain dump time solely for his tomorrow's 'to-do' list.  "I want to play Wii, play with my legos, read, um, that's about it."  And of course, when I do the brain dump, he jabs me every so often.  "I want to practice basketball because you said you would today and you didn't."  Or, "I want to play Wii, because you didn't let me play it a lot today."  Nice, eh?

So this brain dump idea has gone astray.  We still don't know what he's worried about when he acts like a jerk and we just have to hope eventually he'll share.  For now, the brain dump is simply hang out with your mom or dad for two more minutes while you list all of the things you'd like to do tomorrow.  Which of course bugs the crap out of Mike and I.

Not so genius now, eh?  I probably won't get that damn patent.

Back to the regularly scheduled ruining of lives...

Tuesday (after playing in the snow):

W:  Sometime I want a laptop in my room.  Practically every kid on our street has their own computer.

Me:  Is that so?

W:  Yes.

Me:  Well, maybe sometime you can have one, but not any time soon.  We have two computers, both of which you are welcome to use at any time.

W:  UGH, it's just not fair.

E:  I still want a TV in my room!

Me:  Yeah, not a chance.

E:  BUT I WANT IT!

Me:  I know Violet Beauregard.  You want an oompa loompa now!  But you're not getting one and you're not getting a TV either.

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This morning, ten minutes before bus stop time...

Me:  W, I'm washing your green coat, so you'll have to wear the newer one.

W:  But (tears spring to his eyes), you know I hate that new one.

Me:  It's nothing to cry about.  And no, I don't know you hate that one.  But it's too bad because the green one is all wet.

W:  It's not fair!  (Do you catch the common refrain?)  That new coat makes me so warm I get hot.

Me:  Well ain't that a bitch?  A coat that makes you stay warm.  Sorry I'm the worst mom ever!

W:  UGH.

Because I don't have time to ruin their lives everyday...

And then I put the camera back in the car and went down that hill four times.  The final time I slid into the parking lot off my sled!  Brought 'em back home, and made them a warm cup full of marshmallows with a side of hot chocolate of hot chocolate with just a wee bit of marshmallows.

Reading counts and so does nagging.

Reading is a large part of Warren's second grade curriculum.  As it should be.  In addition to their reading textbooks, the kids are required to read a book each week.  The book is referred to as a 'red sticker book' which they choose from their school library.  The sticker indicates that it is age level appropriate and allows the student to take a computerized quiz for reading comprehension.

A new red sticker book comes home each Thursday, as that is library day.  They get two books - one of their choosing and one red sticker book.  This red sticker book MUST be read before school Monday, as the 'reading counts' quizzes are taken Monday morning.

Warren is like his mother and LOVES reading.  Loves it.  And the red sticker books are great as they are the type of books he's interested in and are age appropriate chapter books.

But, Warren also LOVES the Wii.  Much like his father.

So each and every Sunday I gently remind nag Warren to read his red sticker book.  He responds with great respect by ignoring me or giving me the 'in a minute'.  I gently remind nag again.  He again responds with great respect huffing and puffing and mutters of me ruining his life.  And the cycle continues on and on until the book is read and his life is ruined. 

Yesterday, I opted to take a different approach.  I reminded him once, and he informed me that he had already finished four out of 11 chapters.  Great.  I then asked him if he wanted me to keep reminding him all day and have him get annoyed with me, or if he wanted to be responsible for it himself.  He thought for a moment and decided to handle it himself.  I said great, but just to remind you, bedtime is still at 9 whether that book is read or not.

That was at 9:30ish a.m.  At 7 p.m. the book was still on the coffee table, and was still bookmarked on chapter four.  It took everything in me to restrain myself from shouting YOU HAD BETTER GET TO READING THIS BOOK LITTLE BOY.  But I didn't.  And I knew it wouldn't get done and that at bedtime the tears would flow and hatred would spew from his mouth because surely it is all my fault regardless of his earlier decision.

And then?  At around 7:10, the book was picked up and read.  That kind of reading where he followed me from room to room reading it while Elaine took a shower and I worked on taxes.  OMG it totally worked!

Sometimes I totally ROCK at this parenting thing!

To bowl or not to bowl, that is the question.

I used to love me a Superbowl.  The commercials, the food, the drinking, the camaraderie... ahh memories.  That was before I had kids.  I take that back.  The first two years with Warren I still did love the Superbowl, because he went to bed and I could still hang out.

Now the Superbowl is more...eh.  I have kids that have school the next morning.  So they can't be coming to a party with me and hanging out until all hours.  Said kids also make it difficult to ever watch a real show start to finish because oddly enough, they 'need' things all the time.  Snacks, drinks, help tying their shoes.  Sometimes they need to play the wii RIGHT NOW no matter what I happen to be watching on said TV.  And NO I do not give them their way, but you have to realize that the fight about not playing the wii takes a solid five minutes and involves whining and crying and me getting ticked off thereby missing whatever it is I'm watching.

So now, I sort of watch the Superbowl.  And I have one appetizer rather than a buffet of appetizers.  And Mike usually goes somewhere to guy it up and enjoy the bowl.  And it's fine.

Perhaps if I was a bigger football fan.  Or perhaps if the Rams were a real football team it'd be different.

I will keep the kids up late and even have the miss school next year when the Cardinals make it to the World Series.  :)