3 more 'sleeps' till Valemount! (June 24 2008)

Three more "sleeps" till family vacation. I am very excited, but not for the obvious reason. You see, we've been doing the countdown since 100 "sleeps". Which is great, as it gets the kids excited and something to look forward to, not to mention it help them with math. I'm excited because when we get there, I won't have to listen to it five plus times a day. Sure, 5 times a day may not sound like a lot, but go ahead. Figure it out times 100 days! A minimum of 500 times in the past 100 days I've heard ___(insert number) of sleeps till Valemount! MINIMUM. Why did I start this? Sometimes I get lucky. Sometimes the kids space it out for me, so I only here it once every 3 hours. Other times I listen to 5 children repeating themselves over and over and over in a 5 minute window. The more they talk about it, the more I want to tell them they're not going. Unless I can put a wool sock in their mouth.

I've done that before. No no no, not the wool sock thing. I've told the kids at one point or another they can't have something they want or have been looking forward to. Not to be mean, but as a punishment. Which I SUCK at. For example, if I was planning on giving dessert after dinner (which is RARE) and a child has been particularly naughty, I'll tell him he can't have dessert that night if he continues. Of course they DO continue as they KNOW I'll give it to them either after the other guys had some, or I'll tuck some away for the next day.

This has (obviously) backfired on me, so I had to come up with something new. I lie. Yup. You heard me. I lie to the little buggers . If 2 or more of the kids have been misbehaving to the point where they don't care about timeouts or the rare spankings I may hand out, I hit em where it hurts...their tummys. NO. I don't hit them in the tummy. I'll say loud enough for ALL the kids to hear, "Well, I WAS going to buy ice cream tonight, but since you all can't get along/listen to me, I guess NO ONE will get any." Then I let out this loud, long disappointed sigh. Of course, I had zero intention of actually getting ice cream, but they don't know that.

Is that wrong to "punish" the better behaved kids? *shrugs shoulders* I don't know. It may not be "conventional', but it's been working for me. Instead of me having to be after them all the time, they now hold each other accountable. I hear woes and cries coming from the next room, and instead of someone running out and tattling, I hear this; "No! Don't do that to __ (insert child's name) or WE won't get a treat if she's planning on a treat today." Oh yeah baby. The tattling has been cut in half! In. Half. Half of 36874320 times a day is pretty significant. Now if only I could use that wool sock for the other 18437160 times, I'd have it made!!

Don't play with the dog poo (June 22 2008)

Don't play with the dog poo. Seriously. Someone, at some point of our lives, had to of told us that. Otherwise the world would be full of adults poking at dog crap with a stick, or hiding it someone's shoe.

A couple years ago I was visiting with Shannon while our boys were playing together. There was a nice large pile of dog dung that the boys were examining when Shannon called out to them in a casual tone, "Don't play with the dog poo." This didn't phase me one iota. Shannon's roommate (who was childless) laughed her ass off. We looked at her with confusion. She said, "It's amazing what you have to tell kids. You'd think it was obvious to NOT play with poop!" Hmmm. I guess so!

I never realized what we do have to tell kids. Since I've had my nephews live with me I've taken notice of it a bit more. Here are just a few phrases I've uttered that I'm sure would raise eyebrows from a childless adult.

My list of Parent isms
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Don't play with the dog poo. (Said to Braden and his friend Aiden)


2. Don't lick your brother's bum. (to Mackenzie)

3. Next time you get poop on your finger, don't wipe it on the wall. (to Braden and Alex)


4. My bra is not a toy (to Sam, Braden, Ben, Alex AND Mackenzie)

5. We don't put underwear in the toilet (to Alex, Mackenzie and Ben)

6. Don't talk to mommy/auntie right now. I put myself in time out. (to ALL)

7. Only ONE person goes pee at a time (to all the boys)

8. Do NOT pee on other people (to all the boys)

9. Take the sock off of your penis (sigh.. to all the boys)

10. Stop poking my boobs (to Ben and Mackenzie)

11. Don't wipe your boogers on the wall (to all, as I STILL have no clue who the
actual culprit is/was)

12. If you insist on punching your cousin, at least do it like you mean it, darnit! (that has been said in a moment of desperation, hoping "reverse psychology" would work...it didn't. Said to Braden and Ben)

Winks and hyperactive fish (June 14 2008)

My new daily routine is getting up, feeding the herd breakfast, and while they eat I get "me" time. My new routine to make me feel more like ME is put on my contacts, do my hair (somewhat) and put on make up. It's AMAZING how different I feel with makeup on. In my early 20's I wore it all the time. I stopped and didn't wear makeup for about 5 years. In those 5 years i may have worn makeup maybe 5 times.

Yesterday was the same old thing. I dropped the boys off at school, and went out for breakfast with Mackenzie, Alex and my mom. After breakfast we headed over to zellers to do some shopping. I was strolling through the toy department in search of a miracle toy that children could play with that no one would fight over...yeeeah. That doesn't exist...I looked up to see a VERY good looking fellow. he was quite the eye candy! We had brief eye contact and then he winked at me! I felt my face go beet red, and I quickly turned around with a what-the-heck-just-happened look on my face. Needless to say I was feeling pretty good about myself. About 15 minutes later I was in the DVD section, scoping out the movies. An older gentleman, around 60 or so, looked at me and gave the polite "hello nod". I returned it with a polite smile, and then he winked at me! WHAT THE HECK?? Twice?? In the same day?? Sure he was a little old, but my ego was boosted!! My mom and I decided it was time to head over to the cashier. We had all we needed and needed to be on our way. The girl at the check out counter seemed pleasant enough, till she gave me a weird look. When we were done paying and were heading to the car, I asked mom if she saw that weird look the cashier gave me. She said no, she didn't see. Then mom did a double take at me and asked why I was winking at her. Huh??? I wasn't. She said "Look at me for a minute". I did, and she started laughing. She asked if my contacts were bothering me. I said no, why? She tells me my left eye blinks twice...while my right eye follows every other blink. Niiiice. That may explain the cashier's funny look and the old man, but that hot guy was totally winking cuz he liked what he saw! That's my story and I'm stickin with it!!

I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism about 2 years ago. I take one and half iddy bitty little pills everyday, and will probably have to take them for the rest of my life. No biggy. They help me function. I have to get blood work done every year to year and a half to make sure I am getting the proper dosage. If someone were to take a dosage that was too high for too long, they would end up showing symptoms of hyperthyroidism. Well, today I managed to dumped half my prescription down the bloody sink. I am not impressed with me! I can just see in the news over the next couple of days some scientists or biologist will be doing a study on fish. Fish that are very hyperactive in this particular area...shhhh! It wasn't me!!!

Where's that 2x4???? (June 11 2008)

12 more days of school! It's bittersweet. All the driving I do is enough to drive one insane. Half day kindergarten has GOT TO BE ABOLISHED!! What a pain! On the other hand... all these kids and me. Alone. 24/7. for 2 months. I wave my white flag!!

16 'sleeps' till vacation time! It really will be a vacation too. The kids might be around me, but Aaron is coming, not to mention it's our annual family reunion. which means lots of other adults to help watch kids. The kids pretty much have free reign of my aunts property there too. So I'll only see the kids when it's time to eat meals, and when they find me to tattle on someone. Tattling. OH. MY. GOODNESS. Unless someone is bleeding, choking or drowning, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!!!

If my sister gets her kids back at the end of the school year, Ill have a very quiet ride up there. Just Aaron, Kenzie, Braden and myself. In my CAR. Sigh. I'm really gonna miss driving the van. I LOVE the van. I don't miss my car one iota.

We usually go for 3 days, but this year we'll be gone for 5. I would have liked to stay for a week, but Aaron can't take that much time off of work. Bummer.
My favorite part of the trip is the 8 hour drive there and back. Even with whiny kids. I'm always daydreaming. Driving that long will be "therapeutic". After typing that, it sounds kind of odd. I think I'm odd, so no shocker there!

I'm the type of person who needs to be bashed in the head with a 2x4 before i notice, or "get" something. So I've been doing a little praying. God knows I need the 2x4 smack, and he has certainly shown me when I've asked!! ex - in labour with Mackenzie, I prayed, cuz I didn't want to go to the hospital too early. 12 hours of contractions, my water broke. Wait. no it didn't. It BURST!! Right away I raised my eyebrows, and said out loud (to God) "Now THAT was a sign!! Thanks!!" lol! (My water never broke with Braden!!)
So I'm asking for Him to "hit" me again. In regards to a certain someone. sigh. I NEED to know either way, and things are progressing REALLY REEEEAAALLLY sloooooooow. A little TOO slow. But I haven't gotten hit with the 2x4 yet. And getting rather impatient!! I know, I know... All on His time, but I think He knows I NEED AN ANSWER before I either give up, or go completely nutso!!

I make myself shake my head. I think I just blog-prayed. Hmmm. that's a first. well, I'm off to pick Ben up from K. I'll probably post something later. I'm in a really good mood today. YAY!!

Topic Jumper (June 8 2008)

I'm not going to use this blog as a "diary". If I did, the posts would be...well, sad, sappy, boring and LONG. I've been against the blogging thing forever, cuz I didn't "get it". Then I created this blog and found quite a few friends here who have also just started or are re-starting their blogs. Small friggin world.

I like reading blogs. I like taking a sneak peak into the lives of friends, family and even strangers, even though it's just a surface look. I envy some of the bloggers out their. Their writing skills are phenomenal. Some are serious, and some are down right hilarious.

I'm not sure what "theme" this will have, if any. I can say that I won't be posting too many of my "issues" on here though.

I don't know about you, but for me, certain topics can only be brought up with certain people. My love life...or lack there of...will usually be reserved for Shannon and a couple others. My finances, I'll leave that topic for my mom...as in, "mom, can ya lend me $50??? PWEEEZE". Religion...yowza. I can only talk to so many people about that, because no matter WHAT, I start to cry. I'm not sure why.

I topic jump. I used to make fun of a friend of mine for that. HA! Never mind used to. I STILL bug her about it. She switches topics so quickly, that sometimes, I'm still 3 topics behind as she rambles on. No fret though. She eventually comes back around again and we catch up just fine. I can stay on topic while having a conversation, but through writing? Not a chance.

This weekend Braden and Mackenzie went to their dad's place. (long story short, Aaron is Mackenzie's dad, but he refuses to leave Braden outta the picture, since Braden's "dad" IS outta the picture. Aaron refers to both of them as his kids...awe. and "Sigh" :) ) Aaron is totally into MMA (mixed martial arts). He goes to classes 5 days of the week to train. So he's "training" Braden on the weekends. YIKES! Braden is learning all these techniques and what not. He's SIX!! My BABY!! I completely trust Aaron. I just NEVER want to see it again! Yesterday Braden was grappling with his cousin who is 10, and about 2 feet taller than him. The whole time I was like "OoooH!! AHH!! GASP!!" while chewing on my fingernails and clenching my ass cheeks together. Aaron was looking at me with raised eyebrows, and probably hoping I would leave soon so there wouldn't be such a "mom" presence. Aaron was calling out moves to Braden, coaching him how to get out of the "ball cruncher" move, or whatever they called it. He may have been witnessing guy stuff, but all I was seeing was my baby getting a boo-boo.

Here he is. I don't know why I was so concerned though...

he WAS kicking some serious ass... Awe. Look at my little tank!!

Poor Braden. You'd have to know him. I guess you'd have to know me better to know I'm not being a degrading cow towards my own flesh and blood, but... I can see him in 12 to 15 years or so. He's the guy that everyone will love and adore. The big muscular kid/man with a HINT of a beer gut, waving a giant foam finger at a sports game while smashing a beer can on his head. His motto may just be "strong like bull, smart like tractor". After the "game", he'll come home telling his dear old mother how lovely she looks, and ask her to make him something to eat. Like always. I'll say of course, while licking my thumb in preparation to rub the encrusted mustard off of his face from the 4 hot dogs he already consumed at the game. I'll just hope he keeps any fight stories to himself.

Mammal Eggs (June 5 2008)

I have a very vivid imagination. So do my children. I encourage this. A great imagination, I believe, is the stem of a great sense of humor, and individualism. To put it boldly I think people with no sense of humor are sad, sad creatures. In both the literal sense and not!

My kids love animals. We drive by a cow farm everyday on the way to school. When the cows are out, they are usually right by the fence grazing. The kids and I yell out "COWS!!" every time. The kids know that milk comes from cows. A few months back I told them when I was little, I used to think the brown cows made chocolate milk. They giggled and said I was silly. It got really quiet in the van for a bit. I could see their little wheels turning. Braden says to me, "Mommy, I think you were right. I think chocolate milk really DOES come from brown cows!!" I smiled and was in my glory. I was happy because I didn't TELL them whether it was true or not. I had simply stated what I had believed at one point, and to this day secretly wish chocolate milk really DID come from brown cows.

A few days later, my 7 year old nephew, Sam, asked me if this was all true. I turned it around on him and said "What do YOU think?" I wasn't gonna correct him and burst the "fun" for the other kids. I mean seriously. It's not like he asked what 10 + 10 was. I didn't actually TELL them this was true. It's no different than Santa Claus, tooth fairy, etc. Well, other than the fact a chocolate milk producing cow has never come into my home and left a gift for me while I slept. AND for the fact I HAVE convinced the kids that Santa, the tooth fairy etc WERE true...But that's beside the point!!

This morning on the way to school we, like always, drove past the cows. Braden piped up from the backseat, "Mommy. I know that the brown cows and all the other cows all make regular milk. I just like to pretend." I smiled and told him I liked pretending to.
My youngest nephew Alex, who is 4, got all excited and said "Nannie!!! (their nickname for me) I see a cow laying down! It must be a tired mommy cow!" I chuckled and asked "why do you think it's a tired mommy cow?" He said, with a great enthusiasm, "Because it's hard work keeping chocolate her cow eggs warm and getting them ready to hatch!!"

Lesson on mammals tomorrow.

They can keep va-jay-jay (June 4 2008)

Grey's Anatomy is my favorite show. I went into a deep dark depression every Thursday night during the writers guild strike. I sunk even deeper into depression 30 seconds after the season finale aired 2 weeks ago. I snapped out of it about 3 minutes later, but that was tough times I tell ya.

Now flashback about 2 years

A past friend of mine, (I'll call him 'K'), was in denial. He was 23 and had VERY thinning hair. He kept his hair "longish", as he believed himself to be a rock star. I was with him and his twin brother at a concert when K was admiring himself in the reflection of the car window. He asked his brother if his hair (which was ROCK HARD and BRITTLE from all the hair products he used) looked alright. His brother laughed at him and said "Dude. We're going BALD man. Our hair will never look "alright" again!"  K almost died. He was offended, hurt, and in BIG time denial. My best friend and I dubbed poor K the name "Baldy McHairline". Not to his face of course, but WE coined that phrase! Or so I would like to believe.

Flash forward about 2 years or so.

My favorite show, Grey's Anatomy, is taking credit for our phrase!!  You know, "McDreamy", "McSteamy" etc. EXCUSEY MOI?????  Not only do I NOW have to EXPLAIN that I did NOT "steal" the "Mc" phrase when referring to "Baldy McHairline", but am now being accused anytime I use a phrase like that! such as "Grumpy McGrumperson" when referring to my cranky child, or "Smelly McSmellerson" when changing a poopy bum.

It may seem frivolous, but gosh darn it, I want credit!!  I'll be kind and let them have "va-jay-jay" though.