Last night was the boys bath night. And, I must say in the grand skeam of things it went off without a hitch! Sure they tried their hardest to drown my bathroom but go ahead and try you two heathens...you will fail. Liam didn't scream nearly as loud as I know he is capable of when I washed his hair...Logan didn't spit water at me like he did last time...Lucian did not try and hurddle over me in his attempts to bath with the boys...and I didn't end up muttering the lyrics to Tom Petty's I won't back down...so like I said...a success.
It was the end of the bath that went downhill...
I wrap them respectivly up in ther hoodie towels. They look adorable sitting on my sofa and mightly tiger and a cocky little duck that I forget who I am dealing with and I leave them there while I go upstairs to get their jammies....oh man.
When I come back down I have three males standing around a rather large pee spot in the middle of my floor. And, like just on cue they turn and look up at me with identical...it wasn't me expressions. What do you do?
"Logan was it you?" "Nope, it was Liam."
"Liam did you pee on the floor?" "No, it was brother." (He has yet to say Logan...he is only known to our Liam as brother.)
No help there. I turn and give my best glare at Lucian but he doesn't flinch...I don't know if he's found more confidence because he has his comrades and he knows I can't prove it or he really is innocent.
It is 7:00 P.M. and the last thing I want to do is steam clean my carpet so I could just about stomp my foot...but I don't...it shows weakness.
So I put the demon dog outside. Dress the boys and put them upstairs with Lily to play trains...clean the carpets...get my shoes and coat on and wait patiently for Daddy to arrive...when he does, the baton is now in his hands and I am gone...as I giggle to myself either with the crazies or meaness....which ever...I don't care I am free...freee
And, I still don't know who peed on my carpet. Baby cams...I need baby cams...oh forget it...ignorance can be nice think of all the things I don't have to clean...
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Marking on the wall
Every wall in my house is colored, penciled, markered, or painted on by the hands of my two boys. I am not saying all when it's only a few just to make a better story...I mean all! I think the only ones I think that haven't fallen pray to this fate is the one hallway by the bathroom and my moms room...only because in that particular room they were too busy coloring on the sheets.
The very first night in our new home Logan found a pencil...I don't know how we hadn't even fully unpacked yet and marked the entire upstairs. I yelled in a not so dignified way and told him not to ever color on my walls again...he calmnly looks at me and replies...you mean OUR walls. I love it when whaat you teach them gets thrown in your face like bucket of ice.
I've resorted to time outs...to slaps on the hand...to making them wash the walls...to taking away a favorite toy...to yes even a spanking...a mother can take only so much...
We've painted the walls twice in our downstairs alone. The cielings are ten feet and too many square feet to do on a regular basis...this mayhem has to stop. They just don't care...it's too much fun. They will take the licking and keep on ticking...or scribbling...
Last night my darling husband gets up to get LT's nightly bottle and I hear a gasp. It's never a good thing when your manly husband gasps like a girl. He yells for L our middle child and asks who did it. He quickly responds to LT...he insists it's him and he's sticking to it. Dad asks again and he tells him he has a choice...a hard spanking if you lie to me again or a little spanking if you tell me the truth. L finally says "Okay I did it." He gets a slight pat and a hug and told to go to bed...now please realize...it was already bedtime. L promptly stomps upstairs and yells I hate you Daddy...I haven't seen my husband run that fast. L is swooped up and taken into the bedroom and put into bed...lights out...which is bad because he usually gets a night light...door closed...and the screaming begins.
He comes downstairs and asks if we need to cut the little man some slack and I take him by the hand and show him all the walls...and by this time I got up to see how bad the damage was this time...and I mean damage. He found red and green paint...it was found under his sisters bed in a box...I guess it now needs a lock. I had red and green on my white trim...on my white cupboards...on my tile...and on my freshly painted walls. I ended in the kitchen and said he is only four but this isn't norma.l We can come to the conclusion that little spankings and the threat of spankings is not working...too much like mommy and daddy...they never worked on me either. We need to get creative...and I haven't thought of a plan yet.
When J finally got that bottle and went upstairs he hears L calling for him and he enters to see what he wants. He says he is sorry, and that he won't do it again...the lieing...the painting...the yelling of I hate you...he will be good. "Now may I please get out of bed?"
As I am scrubbing my kitchen and trying to get it all clean I am not ashamed to say I am stumped...but it is almost 5 and we've almost made it through a whole day without any tom foolery...so I may be stumped but I am hopeful. Let us keep our fingers crossed.
The very first night in our new home Logan found a pencil...I don't know how we hadn't even fully unpacked yet and marked the entire upstairs. I yelled in a not so dignified way and told him not to ever color on my walls again...he calmnly looks at me and replies...you mean OUR walls. I love it when whaat you teach them gets thrown in your face like bucket of ice.
I've resorted to time outs...to slaps on the hand...to making them wash the walls...to taking away a favorite toy...to yes even a spanking...a mother can take only so much...
We've painted the walls twice in our downstairs alone. The cielings are ten feet and too many square feet to do on a regular basis...this mayhem has to stop. They just don't care...it's too much fun. They will take the licking and keep on ticking...or scribbling...
Last night my darling husband gets up to get LT's nightly bottle and I hear a gasp. It's never a good thing when your manly husband gasps like a girl. He yells for L our middle child and asks who did it. He quickly responds to LT...he insists it's him and he's sticking to it. Dad asks again and he tells him he has a choice...a hard spanking if you lie to me again or a little spanking if you tell me the truth. L finally says "Okay I did it." He gets a slight pat and a hug and told to go to bed...now please realize...it was already bedtime. L promptly stomps upstairs and yells I hate you Daddy...I haven't seen my husband run that fast. L is swooped up and taken into the bedroom and put into bed...lights out...which is bad because he usually gets a night light...door closed...and the screaming begins.
He comes downstairs and asks if we need to cut the little man some slack and I take him by the hand and show him all the walls...and by this time I got up to see how bad the damage was this time...and I mean damage. He found red and green paint...it was found under his sisters bed in a box...I guess it now needs a lock. I had red and green on my white trim...on my white cupboards...on my tile...and on my freshly painted walls. I ended in the kitchen and said he is only four but this isn't norma.l We can come to the conclusion that little spankings and the threat of spankings is not working...too much like mommy and daddy...they never worked on me either. We need to get creative...and I haven't thought of a plan yet.
When J finally got that bottle and went upstairs he hears L calling for him and he enters to see what he wants. He says he is sorry, and that he won't do it again...the lieing...the painting...the yelling of I hate you...he will be good. "Now may I please get out of bed?"
As I am scrubbing my kitchen and trying to get it all clean I am not ashamed to say I am stumped...but it is almost 5 and we've almost made it through a whole day without any tom foolery...so I may be stumped but I am hopeful. Let us keep our fingers crossed.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Sleep
There are a lot of things that are not talked about when you are pregnant. One being the reasoning behind shaken baby syndrome....they don't tell you that there will be days when all you want to do is lift your child off the floor and shake the shit out of them. Generally speaking you never want to shake your child more than when you are sleep deprived. I would like to declare I have never shaken my baby, toddler, or child nor will I in the future (jury is out on the probability of shaking my teenagers)....I just really want to...but alas good judgement and love has always (thus far) won out.
I wonder how long a mother can go with severe sleep deprevation without going nuts. Considering I believe my house to be haunted...that I see doors that are open when infact they are not...that I swear I hear my children yell for me when infact they are not...I may already be in the early stages of crazy. And, based on this I can come to the conclusion of 4 years is the limit.
I had high hopes that once they entered toddlerhood my sleep would improve. But, no you have a plethera of reasons why your child is intruding on your slumber. One of my favorites is the sneek in to bed to only to pee on you gamebit...not nice. Right now I am figthing the two year molars. And, I ask...Why does it not bother him during the day. Sure he drools like a bulldog. But, really that's it. That is the only symptom I have observed in the daylight hours. Yet, LT is so regular these past days I hesitate to even fall asleep before midnight because I know he will have me awake. I've given up sleeping a full night in my bed...if I want any sleep; I sleep with him. Now the jokes on me. When we were looking for big boy mattresses for my sons I went cheap. Very, very cheap. It's like sleeping on solid plywood. My kids bones are like rubber and weigh less then 40 lbs...but when your brittle with age and closer to 200 then 100 the beds are not so much compfy as they are midevil. This is my punishment. Had I known I would be sleeping in it as much as them I would have gone for the tepur pedic.
I don't know anything anymore except for the intense desire for sleep. A desire so great that as I am writing this my children are ripping up newspaper on top of chair cushions on the floor. The dog and the boys are making such a horrific mess and all I can think of is; will they be entertained long enough to close the computer and sleep for a few moments. Leonardo De Vinci only slept in increaments of 20 mins every 4 hours...I am no De Vinci but 20 minutes right about now sounds just about right...almost worth shaking someone for it.
I wonder how long a mother can go with severe sleep deprevation without going nuts. Considering I believe my house to be haunted...that I see doors that are open when infact they are not...that I swear I hear my children yell for me when infact they are not...I may already be in the early stages of crazy. And, based on this I can come to the conclusion of 4 years is the limit.
I had high hopes that once they entered toddlerhood my sleep would improve. But, no you have a plethera of reasons why your child is intruding on your slumber. One of my favorites is the sneek in to bed to only to pee on you gamebit...not nice. Right now I am figthing the two year molars. And, I ask...Why does it not bother him during the day. Sure he drools like a bulldog. But, really that's it. That is the only symptom I have observed in the daylight hours. Yet, LT is so regular these past days I hesitate to even fall asleep before midnight because I know he will have me awake. I've given up sleeping a full night in my bed...if I want any sleep; I sleep with him. Now the jokes on me. When we were looking for big boy mattresses for my sons I went cheap. Very, very cheap. It's like sleeping on solid plywood. My kids bones are like rubber and weigh less then 40 lbs...but when your brittle with age and closer to 200 then 100 the beds are not so much compfy as they are midevil. This is my punishment. Had I known I would be sleeping in it as much as them I would have gone for the tepur pedic.
I don't know anything anymore except for the intense desire for sleep. A desire so great that as I am writing this my children are ripping up newspaper on top of chair cushions on the floor. The dog and the boys are making such a horrific mess and all I can think of is; will they be entertained long enough to close the computer and sleep for a few moments. Leonardo De Vinci only slept in increaments of 20 mins every 4 hours...I am no De Vinci but 20 minutes right about now sounds just about right...almost worth shaking someone for it.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Here it goes
So I've been told that I need to start a blog. I've been told this because of my ramblings about my children and the things they do tend to make people laugh, cry or both. I will not be politcally correct here on my post...I will not censor myself and I can't promise I won't make anyone gasp in alarm...but I do hope that I will make someone feel better about themselves and their crazy times with the kiddies.
I believe that most my post will involve my children primarily my boys...as my little girl is an angel. And, as I believe that there is always an opposite to counter balance the world...my boys are devils!
This rambling will be about my husband. He lost his ring. It's been lost for about two weeks now. Every night he will look down at his bare ring finger and proclaim that he feels lost without it...that he needs it to feel complete. Then he will look at me wistfully and ask if I have come across it in my cleaning. Some wifes would feel awful and run themselves ragged cleaning and tearing apart the house trying to find it. To be the one to place it upon his finger, to be the one to make him complete once again. However, this is me...and I know if he was really incomplete he would of found it already. Most likely he just wants ME to find the ring. I think it may be my stubborness or it may be because I am stressed out with finding all my kids crap...but I do not want to find his ring. He looked so sad the other night and for a moment, for a brief moment I let myself fall under his power and I began to look for his ring; first mistake. I decided to start in the boys room....second mistake. I make the beds and look in the sheets (he was sleeping with L the night we found it missing) not there. I move the bed and there it is...not the ring. A hole the size of my hand in the carpet. Now I know why my 80 lb puppy enjoys squeezing himself under the bed to sleep...he has a thing for carpet fibers. Did I scream? Nope. Did I get angry? Nope. Did I drag the dog in and rub his nose in it? Nope. I moved the bed back. Straightened the sheets and comforter, picked up the dirty clothes from the floor, turned off the light and walked downstairs fortified with the knowledge that I was right all along...nothing good will come from tearing my house apart looking for his ring.
I believe that most my post will involve my children primarily my boys...as my little girl is an angel. And, as I believe that there is always an opposite to counter balance the world...my boys are devils!
This rambling will be about my husband. He lost his ring. It's been lost for about two weeks now. Every night he will look down at his bare ring finger and proclaim that he feels lost without it...that he needs it to feel complete. Then he will look at me wistfully and ask if I have come across it in my cleaning. Some wifes would feel awful and run themselves ragged cleaning and tearing apart the house trying to find it. To be the one to place it upon his finger, to be the one to make him complete once again. However, this is me...and I know if he was really incomplete he would of found it already. Most likely he just wants ME to find the ring. I think it may be my stubborness or it may be because I am stressed out with finding all my kids crap...but I do not want to find his ring. He looked so sad the other night and for a moment, for a brief moment I let myself fall under his power and I began to look for his ring; first mistake. I decided to start in the boys room....second mistake. I make the beds and look in the sheets (he was sleeping with L the night we found it missing) not there. I move the bed and there it is...not the ring. A hole the size of my hand in the carpet. Now I know why my 80 lb puppy enjoys squeezing himself under the bed to sleep...he has a thing for carpet fibers. Did I scream? Nope. Did I get angry? Nope. Did I drag the dog in and rub his nose in it? Nope. I moved the bed back. Straightened the sheets and comforter, picked up the dirty clothes from the floor, turned off the light and walked downstairs fortified with the knowledge that I was right all along...nothing good will come from tearing my house apart looking for his ring.
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