Thought I Made It Through Hell, But Then My Computer Was Attacked By Flying Ants

Hey.

This post is going to be short and most likely ridiculous. I don't usually write during the day but certain circumstances, which I will impart to you in the coming paragraphs, prevented me from writing last night. I've got a preschooler set up with a Pokemon cartoon 10 feet away and a baby who I'm pretty sure is going to skip her nap judging from the babbling that is coming from her crib, so I'm going to do my darndest to pound this out quickly.

Here goes.

Last night I walked into the office to sit down and write a post for you about how Baby Roo is now more or less sleep-trained. (No thanks to the Supernanny). She still wakes up at night, but has come to terms with the fact that she won't be enjoying the comfort of our bed or using my face as her pillow any longer. I mostly just have to tuck her back in and give her the pacifier, and then I stumble down the hall back to my room. Yay!

Anyway, I walked into the office last night to sit and tell you all this. Except when I turned on the computer monitor, I discovered at least 50 of these flying ant thingys congregated on my screen. I had left our window open to enjoy the night breeze and I guess these disgusting creatures came through the screen.

Sometimes I really hate the desert.

As you can imagine, I handled it real mature like and quietly. (Ya, right.)

I grabbed the nearest stack of bills and began screaming and whacking away like it was a scene from Braveheart. When it was over I surveyed the damage. There was one missing F18 key from my keyboard and a lot of dead bug juice, but for the most part my computer was okay. Me and my mental state however, did not fare as well. I took a shower to wash away the heebie jeebies and retired to the couch to watch The Office. Dead bug juice, I decided, could wait until daylight.

So that's why I didn't post last night. I'm sure you were all real disappointed, all 14 of you.

Have I mentioned how much I appreciate those of you following me? And anyone who reads this excuse of a blog? Thank you so much. Mr. C said I haven't been delivering lately, so to you, I apologize. I'll get back on track. To him, I say that he wouldn't be able to put an interesting sentence together either if it'd been him being sleep deprived for the last couple of weeks/years. So there, Mr. C.

In all fairness, I asked him if I'd been delivering. He gave me an honest answer. I just like to twist things around and make him look bad for some reason. It's a sickness, probably left over from my Dr. Phil daydreaming days.

Anyway.

Final note (cuz it's been 45 minutes instead of 15 and the baby didn't take a nap and instead wrote on herself with pen while I sat 12 inches away from her and remained oblivious): Mr. C got an offer to teach for a few weeks in China this summer. He and I have always talked about wanting to take the kids abroad, but I was hoping for Italy. Or Austrailia. Or Spain. China is way, way, way down on my list- like maybe right above Iraq. What do you guys think? Am I balking on a good opportunity here?

You all have a good day.

My Favurit Presnt

Hey there!

So. Mother's Day. How was yours? Mine kind of rocked.

We ended up going to the beach and staying overnight at a hotel. In the morning, Mr. C took the kids to Mickee D's while I stayed in the room and ordered room service. I got to spend the morning curled up in a big fluffy bed reading, drinking coffee, and eating croissants.

Yes, it was as wonderful as it sounds.

I also got a new camera (YaY!), a mini rose bush with my favorite kind of roses (yellow with red tips) and a couple of sweet cards. My most favorite gift, however, came from my girl Princess G. Her teacher bound a "cookbook" filled with recipes that were dictated to her by the students. She asked them, "What's your favorite dish that your Mom cooks for you?" What came out of the kids' mouths was so sweet and funny that it almost hurts my heart.

Here's PG's page:

How cute is that? My favorite part was the whole "5 degrees for 1 hour" bit. I know our gas bill would be a lot nicer if we could cook everything that way.

Reading through the recipes reminded me of how much I miss looking at kids' writing. When I was a Kindergarten teacher, it was one of my favorite things to do. There is something so sweet and innocent about the way beginning spellers write their thoughts.
Anyway, I thought you might get a kick out of looking at some of the cuter ways that kids' spelled the different dishes. Of course, it's not the same looking at it in typewritten font. You kind of have to close your eyes and imagine it written in lots of backwards letters by a tiny hand gripping a fat No.8 pencil, with the author's tongue stuck out in concentration.

See if you can guess what these say:

1. coclitp cez
2. spugite
3. bastpgty
4. rikskprs yith spekos
5. banam slpes
6. bak shugr cokes
7. kupkx
8. cesadeuz
9. bunanu mufis
10) fitos

Here's your answers:
1. chocolate chip cookies
2. spaghetti
3. not sure, but it's either "best spaghetti" or "basghetti". I'm hoping it's #2. Kids with lisps have a special place in my heart.
4. rice crispies with sprinkles
5. banana splits (but I love that the student wrote it out as "banana slips")
6. baked sugar cookies
7. cupcakes
8. quesadillas (this one was my fav. maybe it was the z they threw in there at the end.)
9. banana muffins
10. I know you thought it was Fritos, but it's actually "french toast".

See? Is your heart all melt-y and soft? Or did I just end up making you hungry?

Either way, you all have a good night!

I See How It Is

Well, if there was a Santa Claus that came around for Mother's Day, I would've just gotten the equivalent of a stocking full of coal.

I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes just now while my kids were all playing (surprisingly well) together. I hear J call out, "Mama!" so I turn around and say "Hmm?". He glances at me, waves his hand dismissively and says, "Oh, not you. I was talking to the Fun Mama."

Fun Mama?

Princess G sees the look on my face and explains, "Yes, we're playing family and I'm the fun mama. We do all this fun stuff all day long."

I see. Well, this "unfun" mama has to finish washing towells, packing beach bags and toys, get her crew dressed, and pack a lunch so that we can have a fun day at the beach.

Fun mama. Hmph!

Happy Mother's Day, to all you fun mama's out there.

20 Minutes

Today was a terrible, awful, no good day with a happy ending. It started with the damn cat crawling into my pantry and eating a loaf of bread (plastic wrapping and everything) like a nasty little feral raccoon. And it culminated this evening with a phone call from my brother-in-law saying that my sister had been in a bad car accident.

I was staying very calm and together until he described the accident to me and I heard the words "spun out" and "Highway 62". That's when I started shaking, because much of Highway 62 is 2 laned, narrow, and somewhat curvy. There is not room for anyone to spin out and be okay on that highway. I ran out to the garage to where Mr. C was, hurriedly gave him directions on how to finish up dinner, and then got in my car to drive the 20 minutes it would take me to get to the hospital.

In that time, I had a million thoughts running through my head. While my brother-in-law had already told me that she was conscious and talking, all those "what if" scenarios were having their way with me: What if she has a brain injury? What if she has internal bleeding? Joe had said that she was extremely disoriented, so I worried that she would have amnesia. What if what happened to Natasha Richardson happens to her? What if she dies?

I need my sisters. No one is going to listen better, laugh harder, or be more honest with me. We are a trio. Though we all are married with new last names, our mutual friends still refer to us as "The Herrington Girls". We grow up with the same parents in the same household, yet we are each completely different. I'm the old bossy one, Sara's the nutty fun one, and Karen is the quiet responsible one. She'll fool you with her shy exterior-once you get to know her, you'll find her witty and sarcastic. She's a devoted aunt, an athlete, and a good cook. If I didn't have her, I wouldn't have anyone to make fun of mom with.

Kidding, mom.

Anyway, I met my dad and brother in law at the hospital. My dad took one look at my face and said "She's going to be okay, Tacy." Then I felt better because I knew he wouldn't lie to me. And sure enough, 4 long hours later they came out and told us that the CatScan showed no broken bones or signs of internal injuries. As far as I'm concerned, this is a miracle. You would think so too if you saw her car. It's front end is completely gone.

So, do me a favor tonight. If you're reading this and you're fortunate enough to have a sister, just take a moment right now to be extra grateful for them. I know that the bond I've got with my sisters is unique to us, but that the bond that sisters in general share is a universal thing. Ain't no love like sister love. Amen!

By the way, they let Joe go in first to see Karen tonight and when he came back out he told me that she said I could go see her on one condition: that I didn't cry. Well, phooey on you, Karen. Here's what you don't know: I got it all out in those 20 minutes.

You all have a good night.

T-Shirts I Love

Just came back from the grocery store where I saw a shirt that made me laugh. Then I got sad because I realized that I've reached a point in my life where seeing a funny shirt can be the highlight of my day. But just in case you live in a small little bubble the way I do, here's what the T-shirt said:

"Tiger? Nah. Cheetah!"

That might be my most second fav T-shirt I ever did see. My number one was a shirt I saw on St. Patricks Day a few years ago. It said, "Mom, Dad, I'm Gaelic."

Hahahahahahha. Makes me laugh everytime I think of it.

Like I said, small bubble.

Hell, Thy Nameth Is Sleep Training

Actually, real hell is potty training, but I'll save that for another post. Tonight's post is about sleep training.

"What?" you ask.

No, we are still not sleeping through the night.

Yes, the baby is almost 18 months old.

Yes, we know this is wrong.

No, we haven't been motivated enough to do anything about it.

Yes, I'm aware this is lazy parenting.

We've been baaaaaaaaad. Really bad. And you'd think the third time 'round we would have it down. Princess G was so easy, she practically sleep trained herself. In fact, I think she did. She was very systematic about it. She tapered down from 3 night feedings, to 2, to 1, and then she just started sleeping through the night. It was easy. I thought all kids did it that way until I had J. He was much, much harder because his allergy/skin issues would cause him to wake up every couple hours just screaming from discomfort. He didn't sleep through the night until we got his allergy issues under control, which was a full year and a half. But even then, we rarely put him in bed with us. We just roamed the hallways, bumping into walls, alternately cursing and praying to God, any God, to please PLEASE let us get some sleep, already.

And now there's Roo.

Like I said, she's spoiled. Badly. She doesn't even really have to cry. She stands up, calls out "Mama!", and when I walk in there she's waiting with her blanket in one hand and dolly in the other. Then I take her into bed with us for the rest of the night. Sometimes, (and this is really really bad) she'll wake up before Mr. C and I even go to bed and we'll actually argue over who gets to hold and cuddle with her on the couch.

I know. We made our proveribal bed, and now it's time to (not) sleep in it.

So last night I decided enough was enough. I'm tired of getting squished into a corner of my own bed while Roo sprawls herself out in the middle. And as much as I love Roo's feathery soft baby hair, I'm tired of waking up to it tickling my nose. I'm tired of sleepwalking down the hallway because some pint sized sleep-sucking Nazi has given me my orders, and I'm tired, tired, TIRED of interrupted sleep.

I told Mr. C that I was going to start sleep-training Baby Roo. He said "She's not sleeping through the night? I never even hear her cry!"

That's cuz you snore through all of it, Mr. C. All of it.

(Feel free to go through the above paragraphs and change those "we's" to "I's". Truthfully, I was just trying to be diplomatic.)

Anyway. So last night I woke to Roo calling me. I ignored it for 5 minutes, which ended up feeling like 5 hours because hearing a little tiny voice expectantly call "Mama! Mama?" while knowing that a)she's naively and sweetly expecting you, and b) you're cold heartedly ignoring her, can be torturous and guilt inducing.

So, then I remembered an episode of The Supernanny where the Supernanny taught the mom to stay by the child's crib while the child cried it out. The said parent was just supposed to sit near the baby but not make any eye contact. That way, the child wouldn't harbor any bad feelings of abandonment while simultneously learning to self-soothe. So, I grabbed my pillow and went down the hall to crash on Roo's floor.

And that's when it got just plain ridiculous.

Roo could not have cared less about any abandonment issues. Girl was just PISSED OFF that I was in there and not picking her up. She SCREAMED in the most blood curdling god-awful way for at least 40 minutes. I know it was at least 40 minutes because after laying there facing the wall for that long(god forbid I make eye contact), I thought "Well, maybe a cup of water will calm her down." That's when the kitchen clock told me it'd been at least 40 minutes.

After that, it was "Well, maybe if I put a shirt in there that smells like me."

Then,

"Well, maybe if I reach through the bars and hold her hands."

Then,

"Maybe if I just pick her up for a minute and sing to her."

The last one she actually fell for, but as soon as I put her sleeping little self back down in her crib, she commenced her screaming.

I can not tell you how long this went on. I can only tell you that I fell asleep to the sound of her screaming. When I woke up again, it was silent and I crept down the hall to return to my own bed. I collapsed there, thankful that the ordeal was over.

I bet you can guess what happened 10 minutes later:

"Mama! Mama?"

So tonight we begin round 2. Wish me luck. There's no going back now. I'm deep in the trenches. I'll let you know how it all ends.

You all have a good (restful) night!

It's Great Being a Girl

This morning I was in the bathroom with the 3 littles, trying to get everybody ready for the day. J and Roo were on stools brushing their teeth while I was brushing Princess G's hair. As soon as J was done, I told him to return his toothbrush to the holder and go watch some cartoons. At this, Princess G was just indignant. The conversation went like this:

PG: What? Why doesn't he have to brush his hair?

Me: His hair isn't long enough to brush.

PG: That's not fair! All he has to do is put on clothes and brush his teeth?

Me: Uh, yeah.

PG: But he doesn't even match his clothes!

Me: Well, you don't have to match your clothes.

(This was such an untruth. For some reason, I don't mind letting J walk out of the house looking like a colorblind tourist, but PG and I will have a throw down over whether her socks look better pulled up or folded over).

PG: No I can't!

*sound of crickets chirping while I silently give her props for drawing the bs line*

Me: Well, if you want I can cut your hair exactly like J's- then you can just put on your clothes and brush your teeth like he does.

PG: (with an eyeroll) Maaaama! I'm not going to get a BOY haircut.

*more silence while she thinks.

PG: Mama, you know what? I wouldn't want to be a boy. Girls get to wear dresses OR pants, capris, shorts, blouses, sundresses, skirts........

I fade out on the coversation while she lists every item of girl clothing imaginable in Forrest Gump style. (Remember- "BBQ shrimp, boiled shrimp, shrimp linguine", etc. )

Love that movie.

I come back to her saying:

PG:.... and sandals. Well, girl kind. I guess they can wear the boy kind. But boy sandals are ugly. Boys feet are ugly too.

Me: Mmm-hmm.

PG: It's way more fun to be a girl.

Me: (finishing her ponytail) Way more fun.

So I guess we got the first of our mother daughter "gender inequity" talks out of the way. Maybe that'll be it for a while. At least until she learns about monthly periods. Yay.

You all have a good night.