Meatballs, Bowling Balls, a Pink Beaver, and Uranus

Boy has life in my house changed.  I remember when there was only one child.  He was so easy to teach manners to.  He was polite and kind.  The more they learn, the more I'm torn between tears and laughter.  I have four boys now.  Gone are the days of "excuse me" and niceties (when Dad's home anyway).  Now, the little ones just learned "anus" from the oldest, who by the way, is in middle school and can't stop laughing at the word "balls".  This is a recent development, and though it's kind of cute how he blushes every time he laughs at it.  He still can't help himself.  I know it only gets worse from here.  The younger ones are obsessed with planets and can you guess which one is Dad's favorite, and therefore the kids favorite?  Yup, Uranus.  I am such a lucky gal!

Hubby doesn't help, as he is so amused with this that he says balls any chance he gets just because the oldest can't help but laugh.  This is what my days have turned into.  We took the four year old bowling while the others where at school, the same day we had spaghetti and meatballs for dinner (my bad). Hubby spent all of dinner getting the little one to excitedly talk about the biggest, heaviest balls ever that he needed to roll. But it's okay because he is big and strong. Strong enough to roll big giant balls. "Oh, by the way son how are your meat-balls?", thanks my Dearest Husband.  I really needed that.


I swear that I used to be a lady.  Really I did, at least to a certain degree.  Being surrounded by all these little men has really changed me.  I fight against noxious gases and wrestling, talk of turds and long discussions about whose poo can stop up the toilet.  Try as I may to maintain a certain level of decorum in my home, I am severely out-numbered.

Now, I'm waiting for puberty and for the oldest to giggle at everything from tacos, to our roosters (cocks).  I refuse to ever call them that.  It is bad enough that there is a cartoon out there called Pororo.  It has a bunch of different animals.  There is a green alligator,  a white polar bear, a brown fox, and get this...a PINK beaver, an actual pink beaver.  I swear a man had to make that thing up.  The fox is more orange than brown, so you would think that they would make the beaver brown like a real beaver.  Nope, it's a pink beaver.  Hubby searches for it on the weekends he's home just so he can sit there and laugh at the fact that it's a pink beaver.  It's just so wrong.  What's worse is that I'm the one who had to point it out to him.  It stuck out like a sore thumb.  Yup, the oldest has asked why the beaver is pink.  The poor boy wasn't about to get an answer out of me, and hubby was laughing so hard that the poor kid just walked away.  After all, it's not like he was actually watching that kiddie cartoon, he just caught a glimpse on the way to grab a snack from the kitchen. 

If this keeps up, the poor boy will be giggling at everything and the younger ones will laugh right along with him because he's the cool older brother.

This is such a man house.

What In The World?

My husband saw my recent influx of baby patterns purchased on ebay.  I thought I would get the usual lecture, "More stuff you'll never use?...You sure do like wasting money don't you?", and the like.  He said nothing.  Next thing you know, I get an interesting pattern in the mail.  It is a Halloween costume, of sorts.  I find myself staring at an adult costume for Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, a sexy version.  For those who do not know me, let me give you a little background.  I am about 5'7.5" tall and a bit chunky.  I had my last child 7months ago and I have exercise issues.  This is who I am, so I know I did not mistakenly purchase such an item.  I never even knew such an item existed.

Instead of the grand lecture I was expecting, I got that pattern and in the right size too.  So I put it on my hubby's pillow and forgot about it.  Last night he asked me, "So what'd you think?"  I asked him about what and he held up the pattern.  I said I hadn't really thought about it.  Here it comes.  Wait for it.  "I figured since you plan on sewing until next Christmas that I might as well put in a request".  Yup, there it was.  I wouldn't get a lecture, not a word, so long as I made this costume.

I suppose I should be flattered.  After all, he want's me in his little fantasy world.  He even put in a request for velcro so we wouldn't have to deal with zippers or buttons.  The trouble is, I am no seamstress.  Sure I've made kid costumes and baby clothes and accessories, but I never had to wear those.  This pattern is like six pages long and is fully lined and has boning and under things and whatnot.  I have told him I'm clueless when it comes to something this intricate.  I also pointed out the boxes full of patterns that I own and the very few things that I have actually sewn.  It didn't work.  He chose this time to compliment me on all the things I've made for the house and the kids.  He told me how amazing I am and that he has the utmost confidence in me.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that I can't even read the material requirements correctly because the chart is so convoluted.

Now, he wants to come shopping with me to buy the material for this thing.  Never in a million years would I have thought that he would ever accompany me into a fabric store to actually decide on something to purchase.  I am dreading the whole thing.  But if it works and I get all the extras when I'm done, then Woo Hoo, and all that without a lecture.  I will so be making him watch the kids while I try to work on this thing.

So, when my kids ask me what I'm making and I tell them a costume, will they expect me to wear this on Halloween. Hahaha, Never I tell ya NEVER.  Only time will tell.

Like the Christmas That Never Was

It's funny to me how things work out sometimes.  My 4 and 5 year old boys share a room.  The older one used to beat the crap out of his brother to get what he wanted.  We're talking black eyes without warning.  He was frustrated that when he would talk nice to his little brother his brother never answered back.  Nevermind that the poor kid couldn't really speak yet.  Now, the older one is sharing wonderfully, but more often than not, the younger one smacks him with something as soon as he gets bothered.  With all my teachings of kindness, really, he did it to himself.  The older one taught him how to be. Now, it is my job to un-teach it and it is taking a good long time.

Their relationship has resulted in what is essentially the removing of Christmas.  Between items they have either lost, broken, or weaponized, their Christmas gifts have just about been eliminated.

Example: GatorGolf:  Innocent enough game, comes with two plastic golf clubs.  Which have been used to beat each other with.  They have been removed. (reserved for a later date when both have been behaving and for limited use while highly supervised.  Works great as a treat)

Leapster games:  Educational and allows me some peace, great for long drives.  They have either been lost, broken, or accidentally on purpose flushed down the toilet.

They are blowin' through them fast.  I have half a mind to make them cornhusk dolls and call that Christmas.

I'm about to pull one of my "cleaning" sessions in their room.  Now, I call it "cleaning", but what I really mean is that I will go through all their junkie little craps that they seem to collect en masse and make them choose what to throw away.  This is reserved as an end of my wits tactic that serves a dual role as keeping the mess under control, and teaching the consequences for bad behavior.  Okay, maybe it serves a third purpose.  See, they are more than capable of cleaning their room with minimal supervision.  I'm in charge of the clothes, though they help put the laundry up.  They are in charge of the toys and trash.  When they decide to pretend to clean their room on a regular basis, I will usually sit with them and play director while they do the work.  When, after weeks of trying, I've had enough of them lying about their room and hiding things in their closet or under their bed, and I'm tired of piling it up in the middle of their room so they can really put it away, that is when I go all psycho on them (with plenty of warning).  Then once, maybe twice a year at my convenience, I will dump all of their toys and stuff in the middle of the room.  We will organize everything completely, and they must decide what to throw out.  They get through it with a lot of "I'm sorry" and tears, which breaks my heart.  However, for the next few months all I have to say is, "Do you want me to go in there an clean it for you?" 

Now, I'm really not a tyrant.  Enough is enough.  I'm not one to clean and vacuum their room every single day.  It's just not who I am, and when I've tried in the past I've been miserable.  So now I just don't try.  I do expect them to keep their room tidy enough, and they love to vacuum.  I never would have thought that one day I would use the privilege of vacuuming as a reward.  It's insane to me. 

I think I must now buy gifts with a frame of mind that includes, "can they smack each other with this?"   Unfortunately, the answer will always be "yes" so now I have to rethink the question.

Is blowing through Christmas inside of three months a record?  It is for me.

There Must Be Something Wrong With Me

I've been a bit bored and stressed, as usual I suppose.  Apparently I have this bad habit of buying crafty things in hopes of keeping myself busy through whatever this mind-numbing blur is.  So now, I have accumulated about 17 patterns to sew, and an almost complete set of knifty knitters from ebay.  That place should come with a warning.  It's like gambling, but not.

I am well aware of the fact that even on my best day, I really don't plan on making all of these things.  I justify it by telling myself that they are patterns for baby clothes and gear.  Lord knows that I have enough supplies to start quite a few projects.  I have patterns for the cutest things, in sizes for the whole family.  Unfortunately, I am not really inclined to make them.  See, I don't have the time during the day to pull all this stuff out.  Once the kids get to bed and I'm done around here, I'm too tired to deal with it.  So, I guess I know that I will likely never get to any of this stuff.  However, now that I have them, I will never part with them...just in case.

It isn't like I have the money to blow on all this crap.  Again, I justify this by telling myself that they are only about two dollars each and I can easily blow x amount of dollars in fast food for the family.  I can justify anything.  We all can.  The truth is, I really wish I could make all this stuff.  I know how to.  My skills are lacking due to lack of practice, but they come back quickly when given the opportunity.  I love to make things.  There is just no time during my day to devote to this stuff.

So, I have tried to do this knitting thing.  It is easy enough.  The thing that is making the idea of these projects seem doable is the fact that I can do it while watching the kids.  It doesn't really take a lot of concentration.  It can be done while watching them in the back yard.  If  you need to stop, it is easily picked back up.  As of now, it has been doable.  Let's just see how long it takes me to get bored with it.  Even though it is doable, it is very boring.  Whereas the sewing is not boring at all, but it takes concentration and a lot of time.  Both of which I don't have much of right now.

I am open to tips and suggestions.  Also, I'm wanting to get an embroidery machine and I really need to be stopped before i try to justify that expense.  Perhaps if I get all this sewing done, I'll try embroidery.  But I know I don't need it now, but I love looking at them and reading about them.  I am weak willed and have wanted one for years.  I am torn.  Will this ever end?  It's ridiculous, I know.

Another Day In Paradise

Between the teething, thumb sucking, aversion to reading, and innate laziness, my children have been quite a handful for the past couple of days.  There have been days when I wished I could drown myself in Calgon just for a minute of peace.  Other than those moments when the four of them are screeching at me at once, however,they sure are cute.

Everyone is gaga over the baby.  It's a good thing, because the 4 year old was using his belly as a pillow while watching television.  If he wasn't so heavy, it was really quite cute.  Then there is the five year old, who can talk his kid brother into just about anything without much effort at all.  He's my mischievous one. The oldest tends to stay out of sight.  I think he believes that out of sight really is out of mind.  It must be nice to be so naive.  He thinks that I can't smell his nasty turtle tank from right outside his room, as he yells to that he already cleaned it.  Not!  That thing is so gross.  

Even though my nerves got the better of me, and Hubby came home with wine coolers because I "sounded stressed" on the phone, I could still watch them sleep forever.  They are the sweetest most affectionate of boys.  Unfortunately, their sense of timing sucks.  They tend to tell me they love me and hold on to me for dear life when I am running with the baby at arms length because he had a diaper blowout that looks more like he got crapped on by an elephant.  Yes, these are the times when my little ones want to shower me with love.  I tell myself that soon they will understand why I can't stop what I am doing every two seconds and shower them with all the love they deserve every minute of the day.  For now, I just turn around and say, "Okay, I'll give you hugs and kisses but you have to hold your brother", and shove the nasty poo ball at them.  The always run away, haha.

 

Homecoming

So, Hubby finally made it home after this last little trip.  He must have called me six or seven times today to explain to me just how "excited" he is to be coming home tonight.  I didn't really think much about it as I went about my day.

Wouldn't ya know it, as soon as I bend over to take the chicken out of the oven, boom, the door opens and there he is.  As those who follow me know, he was all about me taking out the chicken.  Anyway, I have gathered so many eggs from my small little flock, that I decided to make deviled eggs.  I rarely make them because it's a pain.  Besides, I live in a house full of males and I really don't want to fuel the gas fires.  However, today, I deviled some eggs. Hubby was thrilled, because it is a rarity and he does enjoy them so.  Then I proceeded to make this strawberry and whipped cream angel food concoction.  It was fabulous.  So, I hit the food trifecta apparently.  Who knew?

Once the kids were down for the night and things calmed down a bit, I had all but forgotten about his adorably annoying advances.  Then, as I put the last load of laundry into the dryer, there he was again.  It's like he has this twisted radar that just senses when I'm bent over at the waist with arms full of stuff.  Good thing it turns him on...I suppose.  As he tries his best to be flirty, I tell him to wait for me in the room.  I poured some wine, and as I step through the door I see it.  He had talked a good game all day, but still, there he was.  Hubby was asleep snoring the kind of rolling thunder, I think I'm an elephant kind of snore.

We are getting old, but that's okay.  I forgot how old I felt after drinking two glasses of wine.  He better not wake me up at 2 AM.  Well, we'll see.

Half and Half

Have you ever had one of those days when, try as you might, the glass is just this side of half-full?  I have searched for the amusing part of things.  I have tried to be clever.  Apparently, a house full of people taking turns with a stomach bug just is not pleasant...at all.  By the time the others are over it enough to be cute, I'm in no mood to notice.  I will say this though, nothing lifts your mood quite like a baby's first, "Mama".

See, all the other kiddies said, "Dada" first.  "Mama", only came out in screams.  Not this time.  I came around the corner and my little Fatty looked up, smiled, raised his arms and said, "Mama".  I could've done a cartwheel.  If I knew how, that is.  So, stomach bugs and the mess that goes along with it, can be momentarily forgotten with one magic little word.

I say that now, but in a couple of years I'll dread the sound as it called to me about 1,000 times a day.  For now, I will savor it and love him even more.

Apparently, there is something good, no matter how rough the day.