Sassy Mama: Smudgemama is sick, sick, sick

Okay, so I'm like, really, really sick. Thought it was just a womanly-bladder-infection type issue but apparently now that my kidneys are making themselves known, I think we can say that it is at least a UTI (urinary tract infection). Already went to the doctor...got the meds...just not a clear diagnosis yet. And my head hurts and I'm dizzy. I mean really, really dizzy. Driving on over to my local HMO I was already panicking. That happens when the road in front of you reminds you of ocean waves, or at least that is what your head is interpreting them as. Anyway....I kept remembering my German teacher in high school saying, "Fritz ist kaputt." See, this was a question and answer session with our teacher in which we had to ask him questions in German. Someone must have queried if he had a dog (sorry, I'd write that in German but all I can come up with is "haben hund" and I'm not even sure that part is right.) Anyway, he had answered that no, they didn't have a dog, but they used to and his name was Fritz, but Fritz had died. So Fritz was kaputt. Alright. So this is going through my head on the drive over there and around the same time I notice that my "check engine" light is on and right at about that time my cell phone made it's last plaintive bleep-bleeps to let me know that it had, indeed, had it and it was giving it all up and shutting itself off. And I started to realize that these were all metaphors for my life.....check engine, low battery, Fritz is kaputt.

But before I posted about Fritz being kaputt and all, I wanted to make sure that "kaputt" was the word for "dead" in German. I wasn't very thorough and only consulted one online dictionary but it didn't list dead. It listed many other words that might as well mean dead, so I'll take Mr. Pittner's word for it and assume that dead is another of the many meanings "kaputt" lays claim too. However, I have to say one defintion in particular stands out as a clear description of my life at the most present time. Click the link above and I'll just about bet it all that you will guess the correct definition.

Sassy Mama: Reasons I Hate Chuck E. Cheese

We recently went to Chuck E. Cheese for our eldest child's birthday. We already have a family rule that states, "Thou shalt not eat any foods served from Sir Chuck E. Cheese," so we were there for the games only. I don't know if we don't have enough Chuck E. Cheese restaurants (and I use that title loosely) in this area, but that place was jam packed. As I sat crammed into a tiny table in the toddler zone, working up the motivation to get me and Cassidy into the mix I started to realize all the reasons I hate Chuck E. Cheese. Here they are:

1-On any given day I'm not even sure I like my own children.

2-Therefore, I most likely don't like other people's children. And there were many, many "OPC" at this place.

3-Kids, not known for their domestication abilities in the first place, go back to their feral roots once deposited into the Mouse's House of Cheese.

4-They are rude and try weird acrobatics...around my child...whom I like and want to protect.

5-I'm pretty sure at least 50% of that crowd had germs...kid germs....like long-lasting cold viruses and fevers and general crud. Of which I wanted none.

6-My husband morphs into a big kid, which he does anyway, but it is really bad when I spot him at the easiest game just slamming away to get the most tickets possible. I mean, does he want the huge, life-like Chuck E. Cheese stuffed animal or what?

7-Parents, on average, do not pay ANY attention whatsoever to their children in Chuck E. Cheese.

8-Because they stamp your hand and your child's hand (also annoying) with a unique code thus no one can take off with your child---who by the way, probably has no worries, after all, he/she is acting like a neanderthal on meth.

9-When a parent has to actually talk to their child and say, "No Alyssa, you CAN'T climb onto the back of that ride while that little girl is on it," they are staring at you who has been telling "Alyssa" to be careful, be careful, BE CAREFUL as she tried to slide in the back window of the van ride your own daughter is trying to "drive." By the way, parents who frequent Chuck E. Cheese please tell your children that when another parent tells them, "Be careful" that really equals, "Get the f--k away."

10-Because Chuck E. Cheese and its' people chaos and crappy food is basically my Kryptonite. I leave that place drained, spastic and stupid.

I freakin' hate that place.

Sassy Mama: Supernanny wouldn't approve

I'm prone to doing that---falling off the radar. In fact, you have to be lucky enough to live with me or to have fathered/mothered me to hear from me daily. Life has been life...work, work and more work. And Christmas is killing our budget. Just ripping it into tiny, teeny, shreds.

Every morning for the past week, the phrase, "Good morning, let the chaos begin!" has pranced through my brain. It's been that bad.

On the funny news front, today Lovemelots, my second-oldest man-child (6 years old) told me he was making "drivels" in class in the next day or two. I said, "Huh?" He said, "Drivels Mooommmm....you knowwwww." (Did I mention that LML loooovvveeeesss to whhhhhiiiiinnnnneeeee?) No, I don't know. And since he has a certain humilating habit of wetting his pants at school, I was afraid to know what he was talking about. Turns it out it was harmless "Dreidels" he was referring to. Good to know.

Ornery Tiger Cub has taken to talking back to me in the worst way. Ornery Tiger Cub is the third born man-child in our family. Today he poured milk on the dining room area rug and proceeded to do a little jig on it, ala "Lord of the Dance." The only reason I turned around is because I could hear his little feet tapping away and it was about to drive me over the edge...ordinarily dancing isn't prohibited in our household but with the trolls that live downstairs it is strictly a no-no. Our downstairs neighbors have NO tolerance for joy. There shall be no joy as long as we live OVER their roof.

Anyway, I turn around and there's OTC (ironically enough, OTC is also the abbreviation for "Over the Counter" as in "meds" as in "what I've needed ever since OTC was born---I'm not shitting you") doing his jig and I see what's he done and I send him to the corner telling him about how making messes is not good and wasting milk, thus money, is also not good. As I leave him in the corner he turns around to me, all attitude, and says, "Excuse me, what did you say to me?!" Okay, so he probably learned that from me. Still not good. Sorry Nanny 911 but I veered right off their prescribed naughty chair/corner with that remark. Afterwards I looked him sternly in his eyes and said, "You don't talk to your mommy that way." And as I'm walking away he said, "Wh-at-ev-errrrr." Dear Lord in heaven, I just about lost it again. Breathe mama lion, breathe.

But sometimes OTC can be quite funny. An evening about a month ago he marched right to our bedroom door in a fit of frustration. Behind that closed bedroom door was his sleeping father (who at the time was still employed at the pharmaceutical company in the security department and worked graveyard shift hours). As he turned the door knob I yelled, "WAIT OTC, before you march into the lair of the sleeping papa lion, perhaps you should come tell mama what the problem is first."

All he heard was "stop." And that was just too much. He slumped himself over one of the dining room chairs, which in this tiny apartment, is only like, five inches from my bedroom door, and lays his head down. I think, "gee...something has got my boy down." I say to him, "Really OTC, it's alright...tell mama what is wrong." He lifts his exasperated and exhausted face to look at me and sighs, "It's just....it's just, my brothers are acting like apples." Okay....are you saying your brothers are fruits? Geez, now I'm glad I stopped you from telling your father that. But wait, you are only three-years-old, what do you know about males who act like fruits? So to clarify I asked the question I ask nearly hourly, day in and day out of my life----"What?" He says, "Apples! They're acting like apples!" And then I got it....and I started laughing and couldn't stop myself for quite awhile, eventhough I knew I should discipline him for attempting to call his brothers assholes.

That's my life....a sassy three-year-old son who calls his brothers the names of fruit in fits of frustration (which opens up a whole other way of code speak...does Banana=bastard?) and a six year old that can't pronounce dreidel correctly and makes me think he is planning his next few "accidents."

And I haven't even started on Astroboy (the oldest man-child) and Pebbles (the youngest child and only girl) and their antics for the last month or so. Because I'm tired and the bed is calling and frankly, internet, you're not. You're just a white screen right now.

Good nite.

Sassy Mama: Absense makes the heart grow fonder--but I'll take quotes for a hundred in the mean time...

Or something like that. In which case, hubs needs to take a trip somewhere. OR, better yet I need to.
I'm sure I have blog-worthy things to blog about. For instance, a week or so ago we were all seated around the living room watching TV when I glanced at Astro Boy who was fiddling around with his nose. My mother-brain worked the equation at lightening speed...for those who are not in the know it goes like this: boy child fiddling with nose=boy child picking his nose=boy child eating byproduct of nose=mother going berserk, flailing about and screaming, "EWWWW!!! Stop that shit right this second!"

I did my equation as I said above, in lightening speed, and decided I simply did not have the energy to flail about and my mouth went into gear before my brain could form a simple sentence and this is what was yelled across my living room, "DON'T YOU DARE EAT YOUR NOSE!!!" Hmmmm....I distracted him alright, unfortunately it was with the hilarity of his nutso mother.

During the same night I heard the best quote ever in regards to how I feel about the male species. It was on Everwood and the older nurse/mom was drinking with Andy's best friend/neighbor and they were talking about how Andy kissed this woman and didn't take into regard the fact that she is in a happy relationship and wouldn't just drop it all because he finally decided to show her he loved her. The older nurse/mom says, "Men are weak. They're all weak. Except soldiers...they're sexy." Amen to that.

Another quote that had me in stitches (and this would be in regards to our past and present socio-economic status) was from Chris's Dad in Everybody Hates Chris. Chris's younger brother was failing math..or science...or something and they had Chris mentoring him, only to have the brother fail worse on the following test. The family is sitting at the table astonished that the boy is doing even worse and Chris's mom says that they are going to have to get him a tutor. Chris's dad says, "We can barely afford kids. We certainly can't afford stupid kids."

And on that note, I need to do some virtual job-hunting for the hubby because we all know that if it ain't connected to his computer game or a TV, it ain't getting done by him.

Sassy Mama: How bad is it....

that my two older sons sing along to, "Ain't No Hollaback Girl" at the top of their lungs while I'm driving?

Sassy Mama: I've been far too stressed as a mother....

when I see someone's email address as "Misty Nites" and all I can think of is bedwetting.

Sassy Mama: Middle of the Road

I used to really get a bug up my butt about those who had "middle of the road" tendencies. I was opinionated (okay, I *am* opinionated) and those who sat on the fence seemed to have none. That bugged me. Badly. I wanted to scream, "Pick a side already!"

However, life has a way of teaching you how many shades of grey there really are and I have softened a lot in what I believe is right and wrong...knowing that there are things that I just don't understand because I haven't been there.

Which is why tonight's Wife Swap was so interesting to me. (Reader beware: Boring Synopsis Begins Here) In a nutshell, one wife had three young sons and a very lax attitude towards manners, discipline and housework. Her own childhood consisted of strict regimens that eventually made her feel almost like a failure if she couldn't always be perfect. She decided that it would be better for her kids to enjoy childhood and to above all, have fun. But unfortunately her best intentions backfired and she ended up with unruly boys that were nearly out of control. Enter the etiquette-teaching mother from Mississippi. She, too, has three children. Her family eats off of china plates and silver ware every night and dress formally for dinner. They have strict rules and regimens. You can imagine what mayhem took place in each household when a ettiquette-loving lady takes on a bunch of little wild cowboys and a relaxed "Roseanne-esque" woman tries to get the uptight family to have some fun.
But in the end it was awesome. The fun-loving mother taught the regimented family how to lighten up a bit and the ultra-conserative mother gave the boys the boundaries and rules they were craving. And then each mother continued to implement those things that added to their family life that the other one had started. Happy ending. (End Boring Synopsis)

That got me to thinking about how we run this household. We take a moderate approach which means that somedays my dining room table will have stacks of stuff I'm sorting through, items that are in transit to another room (much like people waiting at a bus-stop), stacks of folded laundry and somedays, even some dirty dishes from the previous dinner (gross, I know, especially since I'm usually the one who gets to handle those dishes). Other days it might actually be scrubbed down and cleared off. As far as conduct, it is hard because our boys have SO much energy. So it usually goes as follows:
1-If you must burp outloud, say excuse me. They know that it isn't polite and should they ever have a girlfriend from a conservative family, they better learn to burp quietly.
2-Put your used dish in the sink and rinse it off. This is a recent accomplishment for us with the two older ones.
3-Bring your dirty laundry to the laundry room. Do this often, hopefully daily, but I'll settle for a few times a week.
4-Put your toys away in the evening. I can't handle toys on the living room carpet after 5:30 p.m. This doesn't always work as visitors to our home can tell you, but at some point, they pick them up or risk having their toys meet the garbage can.
5-Quote Eminem, Kid Rock or any other possibly "objectionable lyrics" and watch mom come unglued. This becomes a game for them, which is bad and sends me into fits. So...we are working on this.

The truth of the matter is that we are, like most other parents I believe, just trying to stay on top of the crap. So yeah...you're going find socks (both clean and dirty) stashed in odd places that we haven't yet gotten to. You will most definitely meet our most persistent and present pets, aka crumbs.

The vacuum cleaner? Well, it never gets put away so get used to seeing it as a constant decor item in the living room.

Jackets are on the backs of chairs and there are probably a few glasses on computer desks or windowsills that we have used within the last 24 hours and just like our dining room table "bus-stop" clutter, they are just waiting for either Phil or I to come around on our twice daily "dirty dish round-up."

The linoleum, most assuredly, will be sticky.....somewhere.

It basically boils down to us living haphazardly but functionally. We don't have our kids polishing silver but we also don't let them scoot by doing absolutely nothing. The best we can hope for is that we are training them on how to take care of themselves but not sliding too far towards laziness or ultra-strict regimens.

It's a constant adjusting of our "parental steering wheels" to stay on the road and somewhat in between the lines. And sometimes we like to pull right on over at a vista point and enjoy the view.

Sassy Mama: Regarding the magazine cover below

I got the link from Kristine who made a cool cover. You can make one here also. Enjoy!

Sassy Mama: How could I resist?

magazine
Originally uploaded by smudgebaby.

Sassy Mama: The Big Questions

I'm pondering the big questions today. No, not about the meaning of life, or if there is really a God or even whether it's true or not that each person has a soulmate out there somewhere. For all my disjointedness, I think that I actually have my own personal answers to those questions.

No, the one question that is on my mind today is: Why do we have children? Why? I think we are lured into the cuteness, especially us woman-folk. Babies are everything we love: soft, good-smelling, sweet, pleasingly round (appeals to the eye), and just so innocent. It's like you can smell, hear and feel God when you are holding a baby. Heaven on earth. And who doesn't want a bit of heaven on earth?

But then they walk. And then they talk. And then they say, "no" or some sound that clearly resembles a "negative" answer to whatever you are telling them.

And later they wet their beds. Every night. And don't put their dirty, soiled p.j.'s in the laundry room. They let you find them with your bare feet. And they fight, oy they fight. They disobey at every turn.

You continue to love them because you know, they're family and your offspring, but there can be whole weeks when you don't like them.

Did I mention they are messy? So messy.

And loud. So ear-splitting, brain-draining, temper-gauge-rising LOUD.

When a good day comes along, probably after the first week of school, I'll be able to recite all the joys of having children. But not today. Not when I am up to my ears in pee-pee clothes, hyper children that are confined to a tiny apartment (don't you dare suggest I take them to the park, I hate the freakin' park... have you ever tried to keep track of four tiny children in a big park complete with a weird man overlooking the whole playground, making you so sure he is going to grab one of your AWOL children and hurt them)---an apartment that is starting to resemble both the sight and sound of the primate house at the zoo, and heat. Heat sucks.

I have more big questions, but that's enough bitchin' for now.

Sassy Mama: Pebbles

Pebbles
Originally uploaded by smudgebaby.

This is Pebbles....I suggest you don't piss her off.

Sassy Mama: Saturation Point

I found mine today, i.e. my saturation point. It happened while we were parked outside the pediatric dentist office while the older boys were getting their teeth worked on. Phil was on dentist duty while I sat in the minivan with Ornery Tiger Cub and Pebbles. Everything was going as good as can be expected, considering I had confined a 3-year-old and a 1-year-old to a small space. I had them unbuckled so they could roam and pillage--the absolute bare minimum prerequisite to ensure the happiness toddlers. So things started out fairly well.

Soon though, the pillaging and thrashing grew tiresome and the wee ones became restless...and LOUD. Out of nowhere, Ornery Tiger Cub started a chant that almost killed me: "Mama-wait-mama-wait-mama-wait-mama-wait." It was chanted at a rapid fire speed with a high-pitched helium-induced-like tone. My head actually started to buzz. As my brain cells and synapse processes paused in horror, I experienced a complete absence of thought. Which, of course, was nice....but soon the buzzing came back and my brain clearly shouted, "MAKE THAT SOUND STOP NOW!" So I did what I do best. I yelled, "Stop that yelling right now!" I'm a good example, aren't I?

I've been having these brain freezes more frequently lately. Amidst the noise and chaos of the children fighting or playing (and sometimes you can't even tell which they are doing, all you know is that it is too damn noisy!) I freeze up. For a split second there is nothing...no thoughts. And although that sounds heavenly, it isn't. It's more like a major traffic jam on the brain-thought-idea highway. All thoughts freeze and I'm left (not for a long time, so don't grow concerned) with my mouth agape and murmuring, "Ahhh......." shortly followed by, "Shut up now. Shut up now!" And then I just want to flip out, start yelling and hollering and scaring the little human ballistics factories into submission.

It's horrible I know. And I do feel guilty. So I talked to my sister about this since she has four kids and I desperately needed to know if these are *normal* feelings for a mom of four or if I needed to seek Anger Management classes. My sister prefers not to be named by her real name. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that she'd be happier if she never, ever gets mentioned in this blog. But she ain't that lucky. After much thought as to what her alias should be (Horsey, Mouse, Hamburger Helper, Horatio) I think I've decided on "Bisquick." Why? Because I like the way it sounds. There's no funny story to go along with it. I just want to call my older sister "Bisquick" and since this is my blog, damn skippy, I'm gonna do it.

So I called Bisquick up and asked her if this was normal. But she wasn't listening. Because her kids were hollering and hooting in the background like a bunch of drunks during last call. I understand this scenario so I patiently repeat my question,

"Bisquick," I say, "is it normal for us mothers of four kids to want to flip out? I mean, of course it's normal. But is it normal for our heads to buzz and to have the urge just to slap their heads together? I wouldn't ever do it. On purpose. But is it normal?"

And Bisquick's answer was, I think, more to herself than to me. She replied, "Well, Jen (she doesn't have a spiffy nickname for me...yet...but I'm thinking it's going to start with "b" and end with "h") kids are just like that."

What? Okay, rewind. I know kids are "just like that." What I want to know is if I'm on the fast track to loony, anger-filled Momville. So I repeat the above question and she basically repeats her answer, "Jen, I don't know why. Kids are just weird."

I think Bisquick had been hitting the bottle prior to my call to her and I don't blame her. I did eventually get both a coherent and applicable answer from her but it was lame and I forgot it already.

This I know.....I'd be a freak if I didn't have the urge to take whatever measures necessary to stop the crazy primate-house-like noises that bounce my eardrums are hither-skither. That wouldn't be normal. It'd be like watching a bee land on your arm and prepare to sting you and you do absolutely nothing about it. That's just not natural.

But I also know this, I must be an outstanding mommy because the worst I've done is yelled, "Quiet" or "Shut up" real loud, oh alright, and added some pretty colorful cuss words. BUT.....I've never boxed their ears or hung them upside down or followed through on any of the other loony thoughts that flash through my head when they drive me to that point. And that, ladies and gents, takes mad mommy skills.

Sassy Mama: Look to the Light...

There is a light at the end of my tunnel and the date is set for the end of this month-the day my older two children go back to school. How beautiful is that? Less than a month away and they have to take their child energy someplace else. I'm so excited.

We recently got a school newsletter in the mail and there was a sheet of school supplies that are needed for each grade. Holy crap! Since when do fourth graders need Post-it notes? And since when did schools become brand-conscious? At the top of the paper it said, "Please buy exact brand whenever indicated." So that totally ruled out my planned Dollar Tree excursion. Thank God Wal-Mart is cheap. But shopping at Wally World for school supplies is a little like jumping in a free-for-all stationary volcano. But hey, I've got the 5 cent folders and the reams of binder paper for 33 cents a piece as my badges of honor. Coool.

Phil is still milking this vasectomy thing and I'm supposed to be supportive of it all. No puns intended. Seriously.

I had the worst headache today....absolutely horrid. Phil in his martyr-saint-like status pitied me and sent me to bed. I slept WAAAAYYY too long (I view this as his fault...I'm asleep and don't know any better. He has a clock....wake me up!) and woke up at 8:30 p.m., just in time to watch Hogan Knows Best. Love that show. Anyway, my house is thrashed, the kids are hungry, laundry is still dirty and the table still needs to cleared....but hey, at least I'm rested. Ugh.

Sassy Mama: Glories of family life....AGAIN

It must be a federally mandated law that while the making of dinner at least one child needs to approach my tiny kitchen workstation and tell me, "Ewwww....I don't like that." I don't understand this because the following conversation always takes place:
One of Them: EWWWW....I don't like that. -OR- EWWWW....I don't like it cooked that way.
Me: So?

I know that kids need repetition and consistent enforcement of rules and routines, so I guess this evening ritual must fall under that umbrella too.

In a family of six, there are no short-orders. I always laugh and laugh when I see that mom description...you know the one....where it talks about how much moms should be paid because they are nurses, counselors, taxi drivers, yada, yada? When I get to "short order cook" I laugh my ever-expanding ass to a teeny-tiny daisy duke behind because that just never happens here. No way. I've got four kids who are like night and day. Well there's four of them so they are like dawn, day, sunset and night. So following that analogy, one is jone-sing for a strong cup of coffee, another is starving for an IHOP-style breakfast, another has a blood sugar drop that warrants a big meat and potatoes meal and yet another wants a nice nightcap. I can't even compete with that. So I make whatever floats my boat. Generally I try to keep the meals to a 50% approval rating, which in my world means at least two kids will eat it. Other than that, I don't care. My job is to prepare tasty meals for you. If for some anal retentive reason you don't like hamburgers or stove top stuffing or carrots that are cooked, that is YOUR problem. And by not eating the tasty fare placed before you, you are not doing your job and that makes mommy very angry (or at the very least annoyed if I'm already exhausted).

Let me point out I have no guilt in this. Perhaps if I had less children I'd feel more apt to perform an outstanding job of catering to my kids' culinary diversities. Perhaps I'd decorate their plates with garnish. Perhaps I'd even sport a cute little apron ala Mrs. Cleaver. Perhaps......I'd end up raising self-centered little humans.

I'm not knocking families with less than four children...I may actually be envying you...but that's another post for another day. I'm just realizing my tendency would be to over-indulge if I had less children to rear. And that would be no good.

On my more ambitious days I like to think my Roseanne-esque attitude of "take it or leave it" actually benefits the little angels. It's important to know that you can't always get your way and be able to adjust to things as they are presented.

Since I love my children I like to prepare them to real life. As I told AstroBoy tonight, "You better get yourself a good job." (I mean when he's an adult.) "Why mom?" he asked with innocent eyes peering across at me. "Because you only like expensive things: crab, steak, chicken and salmon." "Okay" he said.

To which I know he thought , but had the foresight to not say, "Oh so we have to eat shitty hamburger because you and dad have crappy jobs?"

Sassy Mama: The longer I.....

I've noticed that the longer I've been a parent, the smaller the stack of parenting books on my bookshelf becomes.

When I had my first child, I bought every book for each new milestone. From teething to temper tantrums, I had the experts at my fingertips. And with each additional child I birthed, the less I referred to these books. Were the books so well written that I had it memorized and no longer needed to go back? Well, possibly. But the main reason I never went back was they didn't work the first time. I'm sure those average, "normal" couples (what is that again? Last time I checked it was: 2.3 kids, live in the suburbs, own a two-story with a pool, own a couple dogs...a cat possibly, two incomes and a combined daily commute of four hours) have children that adhere to the advice these books spout but I ain't never met a book that could figure my kids out. Never, ever.

Case in point or rather "A Day in the Life of Smudgebaby":

Exhibit A:
Child (pick any of the four): throws a tantrum and starts yelling.
Book says: Tell the child calmly and firmly, "I don't like being yelled at that way. You may talk to me when you are ready to be respectful.
My REAL-LIFE results of saying the above: I get chased around the apartment by a child yelling, "But I am beinnnnnngggg we-spect-full! MOMMMMMYYYYYYYY!!!!!! MOMMMMYYYYY!!!!!"

Somewhere, my child did not hear nor heed the part about, "You may talk to me when________." When I try to remind them by repeating my statement, they give me a "who me?" expression as to say, "Oh....you were saying all of that for my benefit." No sweet child, I was talking to the cat. And then they start screaming AGAIN.

Exhibit B:
Children are fighting/wrestling/manhandling/beating the utter crap out of each other.
Me (following chapter from parenting book): "Stop. Stop! STOP! STOP!!!! We. do. not. hit. in. this. house. We are respectful of each other in this house."
Eldest child: "Mom, we don't live in a house we live in an apartment. And besides, he hit me first and I was just trying to defend myself. I explained to him. He didn't stop. (second eldest child starts to pinch eldest child while talking) Mom! Mom...DO. YOU. SEE. WHAT. HE......"
and before he finishes his sentence he starts pummeling second eldest child and I am left screaming, "Stop. Stop! STOP!!!!" Sound familiar?!

Now repeat this above scenario several times a day, interchanging the three older boys in a do-si-do fashion. When finished, slide Mom a cold one.

I have many other examples: For instance, how the baby daughter's dolls are all (hmmm...a mystery) missing their tops, the eldest child's insistence (he's only 9 for crying out loud!) that he isn't going to prom because he isn't going to part with his money (what money?!) to rent a tuxedo, and the 3-year-old son's penance for yelling, "I'm a punk, I'm a punk!" and giggling (no, thankyouverymuch, he hasn't heard that from me) or chanting Eminem lyrics (oh...alright...he probably heard the lyrics from me).

See....I live in an odd world.

Sassy Mama: Oops...I've fallen asleep at the blogger-wheel

And judging from my counter, millions (insert sarcasm here) are wondering where I'm at. Okay...more like, maybe, 30 people are wondering where I'm at.

But I think I like it that way. I'm a regular reader of some of the more popular blogs and I've noticed that if the blogger actually tries to have a life (lest he or she will run out of blogging material) and leaves the blog for, say, three or four days, their inbox lights up with tons of fans wanting the next installment. And whereas I'm sure that is flattering (I'm guessing here....) I can also see how that is smothering. Personally, I'd freak out.

In other news:
I haven't run away yet...from any of my "jobs": mother, wife, maid, lackluster cook, and most recently an actual part-time paying job. In fact, I'm enjoying my outside employment more than I thought I would. Which is nice...but strange. I usually start jobs and about two weeks into it I start asking myself, "What was I thinking? This is awful." So far, so good....which is GOOD.

Now, I'm aware that I live under a rock (actually, my rock is my four kids) so I'm not hip to pop culture as much as others are. So keep this in mind while I spout off at how great I think this "new" (meaning: new to me) website, www.43things.com is. It is so neat to participate in. If you are a fellow under-rock dweller, you might not know what this is. 43 Things is a website where you can list your goals in life. You either type your goal in or click on one that interests it and then click a button to add it to your list. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it. Maybe too much so because, although I'm only at 29 things, I have a feeling that I'm going to go over 43 things. In fact, what does happen if I go over 43 things? Hmmmmm.....gotta find that out. Anyway, you can also list places you want to go. When you add a goal, it shows you others (if there are others) with the same goal and their comments (if they left any). And quite possibly there will be others who have accomplished this goal that leave comments on whether it's worth doing or not. Which is another neat perk for YOU. Say you've quit smoking (guess you can tell what's on my mind), you type in "quit smoking" and it will take you to the page where others have left comments. If you want to, you can click on the "I've Done This!" button and a new page opens and it says, "Congratulations, you've done__________!" and it gives you the option of whether to rate it (Worth Doing or Not Worth Doing) and/or comments.

Tired now and am finding that I ramble-type when tired.
More later...sleep soon.

Sassy Mama: Sick

I know I haven't posted in eons but that cold virus hit us like a ton of bricks. First it was Ornery Tiger Cub with a double ear infection. Then a couple days later I came down with it....around the same time Ornery Tiger Cub had an allergic reaction to the meds they gave him and I had to run back to pharmacy for another type of antibiotic. Then Pebbles got sick along with me. Took her to the doc but she was all clear. Then LoveMeLots came home sick as a dog with an astounding temperature in each ear and vomiting alot. Went back to the doc for the third time, still feeling like horseshit myself. He had the beginnings of pneumonia and an ear infection. Puked up his first dosage twice and they only gave me enough for the five days. And it was the weekend. So after maaannnyyy phone calls, I finally just went to the pharmacy and they looked it up, saw where it was noted for another refill because of the puking and then magically produced it. Done? Nope. Phil caught the bug. And then, AstroBoy came down with it over the last couple days and we took him to the doctor today because of ear pain. Fourth time at the doctor's office for kids. He came out all clear. So I've been busy. And sick. I promise to be more witty and fun-loving in the next post.

Sassy Mama: John Cena and My Boys

JohnCenaandBoys
Originally uploaded by smudgebaby.

Awww...priceless....today Astro Boy and LoveMeLots Boy got to meet John Cena (WWE Champ). Whom, by the way, is so nice and quite a gentleman. ;o) I made sure the boys thanked John for his time and for posing in a picture with them. Astro Boy is still recovering from meeting his idol and really pissed at LoveMeLots for squeezing in closest.

John's arms are huge! Notice his shoulder/arm area is bigger than Astro Boy's head!

Sassy Mama: Follow-up Note to Self

Don't bitch and moan about Mother's Day because future might hold nice diamond ring. I feel like an assface.

Sassy Mama: Note to Self

I musn't build up Mother's Day in the days prior to actual event because it never, ever pans out.
AstroBoy is not talking to me because he's pissed that he had to leave Grandma's house. Ornery Tiger Cub ripped up my teenage journals this early a.m. Pebbles...well she's alright except she did slam her forehead on my nose...on purpose. LoveMeLots boy is half asleep. And hubby bs'd at work and just now got home. Nice. At least I have a box of See's Candy. I'll just eat into oblivion.