In the book and movie Diary of a Wimpy Kid, (which is a great movie – even if you don’t have any kids) someone drops a slice of cheese on the school playground. It doesn’t get touched for awhile which causes it to get moldy and disgusting. Finally, someone is forced to touch the cheese and thus contracts “The Cheese Touch.” Anyone hexed with ‘The Cheese Touch’ is ostracized and made an outcast until they touch someone else and pass it off. I think in the movie, it was given to a foreign exchange student who took it back to his own country. Regardless, it is paramount to have ‘The Cheese Touch’ removed from the school as soon as possible.
Now, I understand that kids are stupid. Also, that they like to emulate what they see in the movies. My Dad tells a great story about how after he and his buddies saw a movie about a guy getting tortured in the jungle, they talked the neighborhood nerd into volunteering to be tied up in the lot where they played. After spreading molasses on his belly, they sat back and waited for the ants to come. After several hours of this poor kid lying in the sun, it was time for dinner. They went home. (I’m not sure if they untied the victim before they left or not)
As my own father was the king of movie reenactments, I suppose the following story should then not have surprised me too much:
A few weeks ago my oldest daughter, Tali, one of the most goodie-two-shoes kids I know, somehow gets talked into leaving a piece of cheese on the playground at her school. There are 500 kids at this school and MY daughter’s friend has the bright idea to do this. Of course, my daughter is the one who actually DOES it. She’s in 6th grade, which is the last grade out for recess after lunch.
Apparently, in Wimpy Kid fashion, the cheese was left untouched overnight. It was also left untouched while grades 1 – 4 went out for recess the next day. And then it was 5th grades’ turn. Of the 498 children remaining in the school who did not have any part in planting the cheese, it was my SECOND daughter, Josie (the incredibly sensitive one), who was pointing at the cheese and got shoved forward, forcing her to touch it.
What are the chances? Of course since I’m Mary Carlton, the chances are apparently very good. If Tali had gotten in trouble it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. I think it would be beneficial to get in trouble at least once before going to junior high. Then, if and when it happens again, she won’t be a mess and we won’t be shocked.
But, Josie was the one I was worried about. A child who is already nervous, anxious and shy does not need the added pressure of The Cheese Touch. Having everyone run away from you where ever you go is not conducive to building one’s self esteem.
Josie, however, is very resourceful and can manage on her own more than she herself realizes. In a tactical move of extreme brilliance, Josie was able to pass off “The Cheese Touch” to a substitute teacher and it’s now left the school…for the time being…
Monday, November 15, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Fool Supplies
I blew it this year. I'm not sure what happened, but somehow I failed. Don't get me wrong, I fail a lot. Just usually not so blatantly.
Sitting on my dining room buffet for over a month are the following items: 1 set of watercolor paints, 2 boxes of gallon size Ziploc bags, 1 extra large bottle of hand sanitizer, and 6 black dry erase markers. Okay, forget the dry erase markers, they don't count. Alright, maybe they count half-way, but it really wasn't my fault I swear!
All I had to do was look at the list of supplies each child needed and buy them. Of course, post-purchase the task continues. Each supply must be properly labeled and delivered to the school on the proper day. I have learned that not bringing the supplies on the day that the teacher expects them can be a problem. You want to watch what'll happen to your kids when they get caught with a cough drop in their book bag? (No tolerance policy on medication remember?!?) Drop by your child's classroom with a bag full of supplies to give to an unprepared teacher. It will send her head spinning right off her shoulders and into the solar system mobile hanging from the ceiling. Seriously! I've seen it happen. Witnessing this will not bode well for the rest of the year.
We went to WalMart (due to the fact that we are in Leavenworth, KS and our only option is WalMart) the week before school started. The schools on Ft. Leavenworth started August 10th while Leavenworth's Schools started September 7th. That alone seemed to give us an advantage. No one is school supply shopping a month before school starts, are they? Why yes, yes they are! And the Leavenworth WalMart was hopping when we went. Oh joy!
What you need to understand is that there was a time when I had only one or two children to buy supplies for. I was that Mom happily walking up and down the aisles with two young girls picking out pink pencil cases and Disney colored pencils. I don't know that I considered it "fun," but I'm not sure that the word "torture" would have come to mind either.
This year, given the option, I think I would've liked to give water boarding a shot. I think it would've been far less painful than "Back To School Shopping." If you read my last post I did talk about my love for the Staples commercial where the parents ride around on the shopping cart piling things in while the kids drag their feet behind. It's the subject matter I love! (That's obvious right?)
I am not excited to take any child to any store...unless of course I find a Babies R Us that takes returns, of the human kind. Entering a store with a child in tow, should give you an automatic 10% off. The more kids you have, the higher the discount. Think about it. I do not typically enter any store with my kids unless I have a specific purpose for being there. Give me a discount and it makes it even easier to decide what I want and how many I can afford. The sooner I leave, the sooner the associates can stop following us around to clean up after the path of Hurricane Carlton. Anyway, just a thought.
So there we are in WalMart with 5 kids and a spread sheet that tells me how many of each item I need for what classroom. I had highlighted the appropriate columns and thought I had fair idea of what I needed to get. But when we started down the aisles my mind went blank. I couldn't remember if we needed the folders with pockets WITH the little insert thing-ys or without them. I pulled the cart to the side of the aisle to study my list. The boys were wrestling in the basket of the cart, the girls were claiming that every notebook on the shelf was too ugly to possibly buy and Charlie's looking longingly toward electronics. I sigh, give him the cart with the boys and send them on their way. So I am down one adult, but also down two boys which, because they are boys, is roughly equal to more than half of my kids.
The girls have no focus. The are asking for rubber cement, a neon green calculator and a radio that fits in a school locker. None of these things are on the list mind you. Do they really think I'm that dumb? I do the best I can with the minimal help I'm receiving. I give up after buying about 1/2 of what we need and we go to find the boys. (All 3 of them) They are in the toy section fighting with light sabres. Nice! I kept my cool until I saw the girls kicking up their feet in order to "fling" their flip-flops down the aisle. When Josie's nasty, end of summer, slab of cork flew sideways and ended up two aisles over, I briefly wondered whether people ever get kicked out of WalMart as I herded them out of the store. (Charlie got to stay behind and pay).
These dreaded lists get longer every year. When I was in school, they hadn't yet invented the almighty glue stick. One bottle of liquid Elmer's was good enough. It was good enough for any craft project, it was good enough to puddle on your desk and peel off when it dried, and it was good enough for some kid named Eric to drizzle on his chair and sit down when my Kindergarten teacher told him to "glue himself to his seat." (And that was good for about a 1/2 hour of chaos in our classroom). But now, good ol' Elmer's is doing double duty. Not only do I have to buy several glue sticks for each kid (this year's total was 16), but they also want a bottle of the original! Keep in mind that the glue sticks must be of the white variety, not the purple which turns clear or the glitter kind and the liquid glue must be white, not blue. I think it's a white conspiracy if you ask me. (Thinking about it, I haven't seen one reference to The Wiz since I moved to Kansas).
Americans have also become progressively more germ-o-phobic in the last several years. I now have to send in anti-bacterial wipes AND a gallon size jug of anti-bacterial gel for each child. I guess it's good. I've never been one for being to stressed about germs. You know the mom whose kid drops their pacifier in the grocery store parking lot and then you see her suck the pacifier off, spit over her shoulder, and plug the kid up again? You do know her, you really do! IT'S ME!!! In our house we don't have the 5 second rule, it's more like the 5 day rule. If you can pry it back up off the floor to eat it, and you still want to...go for it!
Anyway, now the kids line up for lunch and before they reach the entrance to the cafeteria, they must first pass by the "Gel Keeper." She is like the "Crypt Keeper" only more creepy. So each kid puts out their hands and gets a squirt of anti-bacterial gel in their palm before they can get their meal. My mom used to tell me, "Don't worry about it. Everyone eats a pound of dirt before they die." A few years later she switched to, "Yes Mary, everyone eats a pound of dirt before they die, but I never said it had to be in the first 2 years of life!" So no, I'm not thrilled about spending my husbands hard earned money on gelatinous alcohol when there is perfectly good soap in the school bathroom.
I truly have no idea how I ended up with an extra bottle of that. What comes to mind is that I was in the process of labeling and depositing each keg of gel into the kids' designated bags when I got interrupted (a rare occurrence) and by the time I got back to my labeling, did not realize I had missed the final tank of sanitizer. It now sits silent, patiently waiting to murder germs on contact!
The other thing is tissues. They can't ask for Kleenex, that would be showing preference to a specific brand. (Apparently Elmer has cornered the market so they can ask for that by name). The trick is for each teacher to ask for enough snot rags to last through the whole year. This keeps them from having to pay for them out of their own pocket since the school districts are cutting anything they can out of the budget. I bought 7 boxes of "facial tissues" this year. Our last school did not supply paper towels either. I think I had to send in 8 rolls of those. For future reference, I draw the line at having to supply the entire school with toilet paper!
I can guarantee my Mom never had to buy "resealable plastic bags" either! Just say Ziploc for God's sake! I knew that these reclosable type bags did exist when I was in school, because some kids had their sandwich in them at lunch. Mine was always in a baggie with a flap. This was adequate I suppose, but the kids with the "high end" bags always seemed to have such soft and spongy bread on their sandwiches. Of course, my house may have just had stale bread, but I doubt it since we had 8 kids in the family and went through several loaves a day. There were also the kids who had their sandwich in tin foil. There's something inherently wrong with wrapping a PB&J in foil. I get a metallic taste in my mouth just thinking about it. Better to just stay away from those kids.
It seemed to make sense to purchase the above mentioned SEVEN boxes of Kleenex at the commissary and not at WalMart in an attempt to save some money. I figured I would grab the plastic bags there as well. In a moment of rebellion I decided that I was going to buy the "Glad" brand bags instead of ZipLoc. Darn it, I have to buy 4 boxes, I may as well save $5 by being cheap. Besides, I don't care anymore that ZipLoc has the Box Top for Education on the box! (I had been 'relieved' of my duty as Box Top Coordinator for the kids school - which is a whole other article - and I did care, I was just trying not to). So I pat myself on the back for being tough and gypping the school out of $.40 for not buying ZipLocs...until the night before school starts when I realize I bought "twist and tie" style bags. Are you kidding me? They still have those?!?!? I somehow had 2 boxes of ZipLocs in the kitchen cabinet so I labeled them and sent them to school. I wasn't going to make a special trip to the store for two more boxes of resealable ones, so by the time I actually went back and bought them, I couldn't remember which kids I was supposed to send them in with. Do you think the kids have a clue? So there they sit, waiting anxiously to suffocate something in their air-tight grip.
Why we didn't buy stock in Crayola after the 3rd kid was born, I'll never know. I think we pretty much pay for the Christmas bonus of most Crayola workers on the Eastern Seaboard. Every year, it's the crayons, the markers, the colored pencils. They don't tell you to buy Crayola, but anyone willing to send their kid to school with Rose Art crayons on the first day of kindergarten, must either a) have faith in the No Bullying policy of the school, b) have confidence that their kid will beat up anyone that dares to make fun of them, or c) wants their kid to be tagged a nerd for the next 12 years. Not only would my kids die of embarrassment if they didn't have the Crayola brand, but they must have the new box every year.
It occurred to me this year, that I have enough Crayola paraphernalia in my house to supply 27 Afghani schools. But before I ship it all off, wouldn't it work to just give the kids 10 markers that I promise I will triple check to make sure they are not dry? Can I not just wrap a rubber band around them since they go from the new box into the pencil case within the first 52 seconds of the first day of school and therefore no one will remember that you didn't have a brand new box by the end of the first weekend??? No, apparently not.
Since the school district feels they no longer have to supply classrooms with tissues and paper towels, they must've told the art department they are SOL as well. "Dear Art Teachers, because we have pissed off the classroom teachers by making them buy their own tissues we feel like we have to take some of your supplies away too. This way we will be considered equal opportunity scumbags. Therefore, we will still take care of everything except for water colors. We opted for these because you can buy them at WalMart. We will allow you to add them to the 'school supply list' so the responsibility for this purchase now rests on the parents shoulders. Just so you know, we told the teachers they could put tissues on the list to save them from having to spend their own money, but because we like you better we will let you pick out any additional random supply to also add to the list. We suggest Baby Wipes. Sincerely, School District # blah, blah, blah"
Just to be obnoxious, the art department decided they would indeed put water colors on the supply list. And instead of listing Crayola as an acceptable brand because it happens to be the only brand that WalMart and even the Kansas City Targets carry, they specify that the water color paints should be "Prang" brand. Never heard of it, can't find it. And so therefore, in my second rebellious stand I purchased Crayola and decided to let the kids live dangerously. In the process of not finding Prang paints I bought Crayola from a couple different stores. Due to yet another interruption, I somehow missed labeling and placing those in a bag as well. So there they sit; 12 divots of concentrated color waiting to adhere themselves to anything from paper to fingernails to unwashable shoes!
After more than a few trips to several different stores, I put everything in the dining room. I opened the new label maker I'd bought 4 months ago and I went label crazy. I feel the need to put the kids names on EVERYTHING, even the stuff that goes into a pile for the class to use. I want their names on the box of Kleenex so every time that teacher goes over to it, they will see my child's name. This way, in April, when they have gone through all the boxes sent to school in September, they will think to themselves, "Hmmm, I know I calculated the amount of tissues needed for a class of 26 kids living in Kansas averaging 3.8 colds during the school year, but I calculated wrong...Well, I know I saw more than one box with Josie's name on it. I certainly won't be bothering Mrs. Carlton to send any more in! I'll hit up Tommy's parents instead!" Always thinkin', I am always thinkin'!
Again, I claim no responsibility for the dry erase markers. Despite the fact that most schools have done away with the original chalk board and are now using Smart Boards and dry erase boards the stores have not caught on. You would think that since I have to send in a total of 9 blue or black dry erase markers, I would be able to purchase blue or black dry erase markers in something other than a "rainbow" pack. Because I refused (in my 3rd act of defiance) to purchase five $10 packages of 8 multi colored markers just so I could get the black and blue ones out to send to school. They went in without them on the first day. A friend who was headed to the 'big city' picked them up at Staples for me. And there they sit, ready to draw on anything and smear on everything.
But as I said before, somehow, somewhere, someway I screwed up. I blame the kids. I keep saying I'd be a great Mom if I didn't have to deal with them. Always interrupting, wanting to be fed, clothed, sheltered...brats! Now I am left with these extra supplies and I have no clue where they belong.
As I finish writing this the same supplies are still in my possession. No longer on the buffet. They were moved to the 'craft closet' when I had Sawyer's birthday party. Since they are no longer in my line of vision everyday, I have yet to resolve the issue of who didn't bring in the required items.
On one final note, I would like to point out that I see no reason for me to sharpen all of the kids pencils before they arrive the first day. Seeing as the school required 48 #2s from the Carlton family, I felt that sharpening 24 of them went above and beyond the duty of a Mom. And that's me; always the overachiever!
Sitting on my dining room buffet for over a month are the following items: 1 set of watercolor paints, 2 boxes of gallon size Ziploc bags, 1 extra large bottle of hand sanitizer, and 6 black dry erase markers. Okay, forget the dry erase markers, they don't count. Alright, maybe they count half-way, but it really wasn't my fault I swear!
All I had to do was look at the list of supplies each child needed and buy them. Of course, post-purchase the task continues. Each supply must be properly labeled and delivered to the school on the proper day. I have learned that not bringing the supplies on the day that the teacher expects them can be a problem. You want to watch what'll happen to your kids when they get caught with a cough drop in their book bag? (No tolerance policy on medication remember?!?) Drop by your child's classroom with a bag full of supplies to give to an unprepared teacher. It will send her head spinning right off her shoulders and into the solar system mobile hanging from the ceiling. Seriously! I've seen it happen. Witnessing this will not bode well for the rest of the year.
We went to WalMart (due to the fact that we are in Leavenworth, KS and our only option is WalMart) the week before school started. The schools on Ft. Leavenworth started August 10th while Leavenworth's Schools started September 7th. That alone seemed to give us an advantage. No one is school supply shopping a month before school starts, are they? Why yes, yes they are! And the Leavenworth WalMart was hopping when we went. Oh joy!
What you need to understand is that there was a time when I had only one or two children to buy supplies for. I was that Mom happily walking up and down the aisles with two young girls picking out pink pencil cases and Disney colored pencils. I don't know that I considered it "fun," but I'm not sure that the word "torture" would have come to mind either.
This year, given the option, I think I would've liked to give water boarding a shot. I think it would've been far less painful than "Back To School Shopping." If you read my last post I did talk about my love for the Staples commercial where the parents ride around on the shopping cart piling things in while the kids drag their feet behind. It's the subject matter I love! (That's obvious right?)
I am not excited to take any child to any store...unless of course I find a Babies R Us that takes returns, of the human kind. Entering a store with a child in tow, should give you an automatic 10% off. The more kids you have, the higher the discount. Think about it. I do not typically enter any store with my kids unless I have a specific purpose for being there. Give me a discount and it makes it even easier to decide what I want and how many I can afford. The sooner I leave, the sooner the associates can stop following us around to clean up after the path of Hurricane Carlton. Anyway, just a thought.
So there we are in WalMart with 5 kids and a spread sheet that tells me how many of each item I need for what classroom. I had highlighted the appropriate columns and thought I had fair idea of what I needed to get. But when we started down the aisles my mind went blank. I couldn't remember if we needed the folders with pockets WITH the little insert thing-ys or without them. I pulled the cart to the side of the aisle to study my list. The boys were wrestling in the basket of the cart, the girls were claiming that every notebook on the shelf was too ugly to possibly buy and Charlie's looking longingly toward electronics. I sigh, give him the cart with the boys and send them on their way. So I am down one adult, but also down two boys which, because they are boys, is roughly equal to more than half of my kids.
The girls have no focus. The are asking for rubber cement, a neon green calculator and a radio that fits in a school locker. None of these things are on the list mind you. Do they really think I'm that dumb? I do the best I can with the minimal help I'm receiving. I give up after buying about 1/2 of what we need and we go to find the boys. (All 3 of them) They are in the toy section fighting with light sabres. Nice! I kept my cool until I saw the girls kicking up their feet in order to "fling" their flip-flops down the aisle. When Josie's nasty, end of summer, slab of cork flew sideways and ended up two aisles over, I briefly wondered whether people ever get kicked out of WalMart as I herded them out of the store. (Charlie got to stay behind and pay).
These dreaded lists get longer every year. When I was in school, they hadn't yet invented the almighty glue stick. One bottle of liquid Elmer's was good enough. It was good enough for any craft project, it was good enough to puddle on your desk and peel off when it dried, and it was good enough for some kid named Eric to drizzle on his chair and sit down when my Kindergarten teacher told him to "glue himself to his seat." (And that was good for about a 1/2 hour of chaos in our classroom). But now, good ol' Elmer's is doing double duty. Not only do I have to buy several glue sticks for each kid (this year's total was 16), but they also want a bottle of the original! Keep in mind that the glue sticks must be of the white variety, not the purple which turns clear or the glitter kind and the liquid glue must be white, not blue. I think it's a white conspiracy if you ask me. (Thinking about it, I haven't seen one reference to The Wiz since I moved to Kansas).
Americans have also become progressively more germ-o-phobic in the last several years. I now have to send in anti-bacterial wipes AND a gallon size jug of anti-bacterial gel for each child. I guess it's good. I've never been one for being to stressed about germs. You know the mom whose kid drops their pacifier in the grocery store parking lot and then you see her suck the pacifier off, spit over her shoulder, and plug the kid up again? You do know her, you really do! IT'S ME!!! In our house we don't have the 5 second rule, it's more like the 5 day rule. If you can pry it back up off the floor to eat it, and you still want to...go for it!
Anyway, now the kids line up for lunch and before they reach the entrance to the cafeteria, they must first pass by the "Gel Keeper." She is like the "Crypt Keeper" only more creepy. So each kid puts out their hands and gets a squirt of anti-bacterial gel in their palm before they can get their meal. My mom used to tell me, "Don't worry about it. Everyone eats a pound of dirt before they die." A few years later she switched to, "Yes Mary, everyone eats a pound of dirt before they die, but I never said it had to be in the first 2 years of life!" So no, I'm not thrilled about spending my husbands hard earned money on gelatinous alcohol when there is perfectly good soap in the school bathroom.
I truly have no idea how I ended up with an extra bottle of that. What comes to mind is that I was in the process of labeling and depositing each keg of gel into the kids' designated bags when I got interrupted (a rare occurrence) and by the time I got back to my labeling, did not realize I had missed the final tank of sanitizer. It now sits silent, patiently waiting to murder germs on contact!
The other thing is tissues. They can't ask for Kleenex, that would be showing preference to a specific brand. (Apparently Elmer has cornered the market so they can ask for that by name). The trick is for each teacher to ask for enough snot rags to last through the whole year. This keeps them from having to pay for them out of their own pocket since the school districts are cutting anything they can out of the budget. I bought 7 boxes of "facial tissues" this year. Our last school did not supply paper towels either. I think I had to send in 8 rolls of those. For future reference, I draw the line at having to supply the entire school with toilet paper!
I can guarantee my Mom never had to buy "resealable plastic bags" either! Just say Ziploc for God's sake! I knew that these reclosable type bags did exist when I was in school, because some kids had their sandwich in them at lunch. Mine was always in a baggie with a flap. This was adequate I suppose, but the kids with the "high end" bags always seemed to have such soft and spongy bread on their sandwiches. Of course, my house may have just had stale bread, but I doubt it since we had 8 kids in the family and went through several loaves a day. There were also the kids who had their sandwich in tin foil. There's something inherently wrong with wrapping a PB&J in foil. I get a metallic taste in my mouth just thinking about it. Better to just stay away from those kids.
It seemed to make sense to purchase the above mentioned SEVEN boxes of Kleenex at the commissary and not at WalMart in an attempt to save some money. I figured I would grab the plastic bags there as well. In a moment of rebellion I decided that I was going to buy the "Glad" brand bags instead of ZipLoc. Darn it, I have to buy 4 boxes, I may as well save $5 by being cheap. Besides, I don't care anymore that ZipLoc has the Box Top for Education on the box! (I had been 'relieved' of my duty as Box Top Coordinator for the kids school - which is a whole other article - and I did care, I was just trying not to). So I pat myself on the back for being tough and gypping the school out of $.40 for not buying ZipLocs...until the night before school starts when I realize I bought "twist and tie" style bags. Are you kidding me? They still have those?!?!? I somehow had 2 boxes of ZipLocs in the kitchen cabinet so I labeled them and sent them to school. I wasn't going to make a special trip to the store for two more boxes of resealable ones, so by the time I actually went back and bought them, I couldn't remember which kids I was supposed to send them in with. Do you think the kids have a clue? So there they sit, waiting anxiously to suffocate something in their air-tight grip.
Why we didn't buy stock in Crayola after the 3rd kid was born, I'll never know. I think we pretty much pay for the Christmas bonus of most Crayola workers on the Eastern Seaboard. Every year, it's the crayons, the markers, the colored pencils. They don't tell you to buy Crayola, but anyone willing to send their kid to school with Rose Art crayons on the first day of kindergarten, must either a) have faith in the No Bullying policy of the school, b) have confidence that their kid will beat up anyone that dares to make fun of them, or c) wants their kid to be tagged a nerd for the next 12 years. Not only would my kids die of embarrassment if they didn't have the Crayola brand, but they must have the new box every year.
It occurred to me this year, that I have enough Crayola paraphernalia in my house to supply 27 Afghani schools. But before I ship it all off, wouldn't it work to just give the kids 10 markers that I promise I will triple check to make sure they are not dry? Can I not just wrap a rubber band around them since they go from the new box into the pencil case within the first 52 seconds of the first day of school and therefore no one will remember that you didn't have a brand new box by the end of the first weekend??? No, apparently not.
Since the school district feels they no longer have to supply classrooms with tissues and paper towels, they must've told the art department they are SOL as well. "Dear Art Teachers, because we have pissed off the classroom teachers by making them buy their own tissues we feel like we have to take some of your supplies away too. This way we will be considered equal opportunity scumbags. Therefore, we will still take care of everything except for water colors. We opted for these because you can buy them at WalMart. We will allow you to add them to the 'school supply list' so the responsibility for this purchase now rests on the parents shoulders. Just so you know, we told the teachers they could put tissues on the list to save them from having to spend their own money, but because we like you better we will let you pick out any additional random supply to also add to the list. We suggest Baby Wipes. Sincerely, School District # blah, blah, blah"
Just to be obnoxious, the art department decided they would indeed put water colors on the supply list. And instead of listing Crayola as an acceptable brand because it happens to be the only brand that WalMart and even the Kansas City Targets carry, they specify that the water color paints should be "Prang" brand. Never heard of it, can't find it. And so therefore, in my second rebellious stand I purchased Crayola and decided to let the kids live dangerously. In the process of not finding Prang paints I bought Crayola from a couple different stores. Due to yet another interruption, I somehow missed labeling and placing those in a bag as well. So there they sit; 12 divots of concentrated color waiting to adhere themselves to anything from paper to fingernails to unwashable shoes!
After more than a few trips to several different stores, I put everything in the dining room. I opened the new label maker I'd bought 4 months ago and I went label crazy. I feel the need to put the kids names on EVERYTHING, even the stuff that goes into a pile for the class to use. I want their names on the box of Kleenex so every time that teacher goes over to it, they will see my child's name. This way, in April, when they have gone through all the boxes sent to school in September, they will think to themselves, "Hmmm, I know I calculated the amount of tissues needed for a class of 26 kids living in Kansas averaging 3.8 colds during the school year, but I calculated wrong...Well, I know I saw more than one box with Josie's name on it. I certainly won't be bothering Mrs. Carlton to send any more in! I'll hit up Tommy's parents instead!" Always thinkin', I am always thinkin'!
Again, I claim no responsibility for the dry erase markers. Despite the fact that most schools have done away with the original chalk board and are now using Smart Boards and dry erase boards the stores have not caught on. You would think that since I have to send in a total of 9 blue or black dry erase markers, I would be able to purchase blue or black dry erase markers in something other than a "rainbow" pack. Because I refused (in my 3rd act of defiance) to purchase five $10 packages of 8 multi colored markers just so I could get the black and blue ones out to send to school. They went in without them on the first day. A friend who was headed to the 'big city' picked them up at Staples for me. And there they sit, ready to draw on anything and smear on everything.
But as I said before, somehow, somewhere, someway I screwed up. I blame the kids. I keep saying I'd be a great Mom if I didn't have to deal with them. Always interrupting, wanting to be fed, clothed, sheltered...brats! Now I am left with these extra supplies and I have no clue where they belong.
As I finish writing this the same supplies are still in my possession. No longer on the buffet. They were moved to the 'craft closet' when I had Sawyer's birthday party. Since they are no longer in my line of vision everyday, I have yet to resolve the issue of who didn't bring in the required items.
On one final note, I would like to point out that I see no reason for me to sharpen all of the kids pencils before they arrive the first day. Seeing as the school required 48 #2s from the Carlton family, I felt that sharpening 24 of them went above and beyond the duty of a Mom. And that's me; always the overachiever!
Monday, August 16, 2010
School Haze
Ahhh, it's that time of year again. Lucky for me, in the great state of Kansas, that times comes earlier than most of the country.
The heat continues to scorch the brown straw that was once grass, several lame sit-coms have yet to premiere and the new season of Saturday Night Live has not begun. Friends of mine on the East coast are getting in one more trip to beach, they are still wearing white, and their kids are watching another iCarly marathon.
And yet, MY KIDS HAVE STARTED SCHOOL!!! Which is further proof (not that I needed any more) there is a God. And He is GOOD!
They returned to their day prison on a Tuesday. Not starting on a Monday "gave the children the opportunity to meet their teachers and find their desks." Yeah right! This is just the school districts way of subliminally making the kids think they are starting after a 3 day weekend...like, say, Labor Day?!?!
What cracks me up is that in the first couple weeks they couldn't go outside for recess. Are you ready for this? It was too HOT!!! I'm not quite sure if that's ironic or just a bummer. (But I can with a fair amount of confidence that Alanis Morissette doesn't know either). We had something crazy like 32 consecutive days over 90 degrees. I could gross you out and tell you about the frogs that kept jumping onto our air conditioning unit only to dehydrate in the sun...but I'll refrain.
Don't get me wrong, no one is happier than me that the kids started early (with or without outdoor recess). And PLEASE don't feel sorry for them. Since they got out in late May, they did have a full summer, as did I. It all works out, except of course for those kids who moved here after getting out of school, in another state, in late June. Their parents are thrilled, unlike the parents who moved away from Kansas this summer. Those kids got out of school in May and don't go back until Sept. To those of you with that unfortunate fate, I do send my apologies...pahahahahaha. SUCKERS!!!!! No, really. I'm sorry...heh heh heh heh. I know, I know, it'll be me in a few years and I shouldn't laugh...but I can't help it. I'm just so darn giddy!
My happiness was slightly quelled when I realized that Sawyer's preschool had changed their dates and now he starts a month after the other kids. Seriously?!?! What the heck am I supposed to do with him all month? I got stuff to do! And it does not include making him pepperoni pizza and changing his diaper several times a day. I know I should be so thrilled and proud that he has been "discharged" from his Special Ed. classroom and will be completely mainstreamed this year. I am. Well, I was. Then I realized that Special Ed. preschool started the same week that the other kids did and mainstream preschool started substantially later. It was shortly after this blow that it occurred to me that he will no longer have the "short bus" come pick him up every day.
I've said before, I'm a big fan of the short bus. I admit, I was one of those kids who made fun of the short bus when I was young and as I became an adult, hoped I wouldn't have a child ever have to ride the short bus. But the more you come in contact with special needs kids, the more you realize they don't have cooties, they're not contagious, they are just kids trying to be kids. And the drivers and assistants on the buses Sawyer rode had pretty much reached Sainthood in my eyes by the end of the year.
First of all, the short bus comes right to your front door! You can't beat that on a day when the wind chill is 15 below. (We're in Kansas remember?) And, on the days that Sawyer was taking off one shoe every time I was retying the other one, they waited! For a long time!!! The day he saw the bus coming and sprinted around to the back of the house, I think the driver said, "Wow Sawyer, I didn't know you could run so fast!" I can think of a few things I would've said if I were the driver. I think I had a few bus drivers back in the day that would've waited until the parent left and then cussed the kid out! Come to think of it, maybe she did do that and he couldn't tell me, but I prefer to think she didn't. Plus, and this is not a small factor, ANYONE willing to keep careful track of Frog gets major points in my book!
**If you need further explanation, please go back and read "Dear Frog." I promise that will clue you in.**
Now that they have started school, I realized I had been anticipating the yearly debut of my all time favorite TV commercial. Maybe they haven't started airing it yet, but you know what I'm talking about. "It's the most wonderful time of the year..." The Mom's and Dad's dancing through Staples just gives me goosebumps! Really, can it be stated any better? I'm hoping that they haven't done away with that commercial. The majority of my TV viewing lately consists of "Good Luck Charlie" and "SpongeBob Drive Me Crazy Pants." Perhaps Staples doesn't see much profit margin from advertising miserable kids to the tweens. However, they ought to realize many parents' TVs are taken hostage by Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, and therefore would be smart to show that commercial. Think of they joy they would bring all those parents who have been forced to have "iSaved your Life" as background noise AGAIN!!! How many times can they watch the same one??? That's a rhetorical question as it's apparently enough times that I can quote most of every episode!
But, back to my point. Staples, if you're out there....I'm waiting!
The heat continues to scorch the brown straw that was once grass, several lame sit-coms have yet to premiere and the new season of Saturday Night Live has not begun. Friends of mine on the East coast are getting in one more trip to beach, they are still wearing white, and their kids are watching another iCarly marathon.
And yet, MY KIDS HAVE STARTED SCHOOL!!! Which is further proof (not that I needed any more) there is a God. And He is GOOD!
They returned to their day prison on a Tuesday. Not starting on a Monday "gave the children the opportunity to meet their teachers and find their desks." Yeah right! This is just the school districts way of subliminally making the kids think they are starting after a 3 day weekend...like, say, Labor Day?!?!
What cracks me up is that in the first couple weeks they couldn't go outside for recess. Are you ready for this? It was too HOT!!! I'm not quite sure if that's ironic or just a bummer. (But I can with a fair amount of confidence that Alanis Morissette doesn't know either). We had something crazy like 32 consecutive days over 90 degrees. I could gross you out and tell you about the frogs that kept jumping onto our air conditioning unit only to dehydrate in the sun...but I'll refrain.
Don't get me wrong, no one is happier than me that the kids started early (with or without outdoor recess). And PLEASE don't feel sorry for them. Since they got out in late May, they did have a full summer, as did I. It all works out, except of course for those kids who moved here after getting out of school, in another state, in late June. Their parents are thrilled, unlike the parents who moved away from Kansas this summer. Those kids got out of school in May and don't go back until Sept. To those of you with that unfortunate fate, I do send my apologies...pahahahahaha. SUCKERS!!!!! No, really. I'm sorry...heh heh heh heh. I know, I know, it'll be me in a few years and I shouldn't laugh...but I can't help it. I'm just so darn giddy!
My happiness was slightly quelled when I realized that Sawyer's preschool had changed their dates and now he starts a month after the other kids. Seriously?!?! What the heck am I supposed to do with him all month? I got stuff to do! And it does not include making him pepperoni pizza and changing his diaper several times a day. I know I should be so thrilled and proud that he has been "discharged" from his Special Ed. classroom and will be completely mainstreamed this year. I am. Well, I was. Then I realized that Special Ed. preschool started the same week that the other kids did and mainstream preschool started substantially later. It was shortly after this blow that it occurred to me that he will no longer have the "short bus" come pick him up every day.
I've said before, I'm a big fan of the short bus. I admit, I was one of those kids who made fun of the short bus when I was young and as I became an adult, hoped I wouldn't have a child ever have to ride the short bus. But the more you come in contact with special needs kids, the more you realize they don't have cooties, they're not contagious, they are just kids trying to be kids. And the drivers and assistants on the buses Sawyer rode had pretty much reached Sainthood in my eyes by the end of the year.
First of all, the short bus comes right to your front door! You can't beat that on a day when the wind chill is 15 below. (We're in Kansas remember?) And, on the days that Sawyer was taking off one shoe every time I was retying the other one, they waited! For a long time!!! The day he saw the bus coming and sprinted around to the back of the house, I think the driver said, "Wow Sawyer, I didn't know you could run so fast!" I can think of a few things I would've said if I were the driver. I think I had a few bus drivers back in the day that would've waited until the parent left and then cussed the kid out! Come to think of it, maybe she did do that and he couldn't tell me, but I prefer to think she didn't. Plus, and this is not a small factor, ANYONE willing to keep careful track of Frog gets major points in my book!
**If you need further explanation, please go back and read "Dear Frog." I promise that will clue you in.**
Now that they have started school, I realized I had been anticipating the yearly debut of my all time favorite TV commercial. Maybe they haven't started airing it yet, but you know what I'm talking about. "It's the most wonderful time of the year..." The Mom's and Dad's dancing through Staples just gives me goosebumps! Really, can it be stated any better? I'm hoping that they haven't done away with that commercial. The majority of my TV viewing lately consists of "Good Luck Charlie" and "SpongeBob Drive Me Crazy Pants." Perhaps Staples doesn't see much profit margin from advertising miserable kids to the tweens. However, they ought to realize many parents' TVs are taken hostage by Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, and therefore would be smart to show that commercial. Think of they joy they would bring all those parents who have been forced to have "iSaved your Life" as background noise AGAIN!!! How many times can they watch the same one??? That's a rhetorical question as it's apparently enough times that I can quote most of every episode!
But, back to my point. Staples, if you're out there....I'm waiting!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Nip-tease
Let me preface this post with a humongous apology to my millions of fans out there who have been unable to eat, sleep, or exercise while waiting for a new post. I know it's been rough for many of you who have been dying to go for a run and pound the sizzling pavement in the humid, mulch-ish smelling air of your neighborhoods. Even more have bravely fought the desire to get to the gym for Body Pump or spin class, because you felt the need to sit for days by the computer to see if a new post had popped up. Alas, no such luck for almost a month...can you believe that snotty little blogger? If I were you, I'd blame me for all your exercise negligence. It's okay though, I got your back, and will take the heat for you. That's just what a nice person I am.
So onward, dear readers, to yet another look into why I blog for sanity's sake!
Note: The names of certain people and animals have been changed to protect the innocent. Any likeness to any person or animal, living or dead, may be the exact person or animal I am referring to, but my guess is, you really don't care!
Baby Charlie got nipped by a dog tonight. A friend from days gone by had stopped by my parent's house while walking his dog to say hello. Lets call the dog...ummm...Bob Dole!
Sidebar: When Charlie and I first got Peanut, we tried to name her Bob Dole. We were/are big Bob Dole fans and it was shortly after SNL did the skit where Bob Dole was on Real World. (Worth looking up on YouTube if you can find it!) At the time, it seemed like a good tribute.
I know what you're thinking and I guess I could see where those who don't comprehend my warped sense of humor and true love of Republican icons would not find it funny and may even see it as disrespectful to name a dog Bob Dole. I assure you it was only because we loved him so much that we would name our dog that. Think about it; if you name a dog after someone you don't like, would you be nice to it? Duh, NO!!! I could go on about this, but I'll save that for another day. Let's just say that if someone were to name their dog Mary Carlton, I would take it as a first rate compliment.
Unfortunately, the name 'Bob Dole' didn't stick on our puppy and we ended up with 'Peanut'. But, because I now have the freedom to re-name the dog in this post anything I want, I choose Bob Dole.
*End of Sidebar*
Bob Dole was a pretty dog, but it was obvious there was a mix of one of those two breeds that make normal people a bit skittish and freaks like Michael Vick smile. All the kids were a bit nervous at first, but then they slowly started to come around. The tennis ball was Baby Charlie's idea.
When Bob Dole started catching a tennis ball in mid-air on high bounces, low bounces, sideways bounces...the kids were diggin' it. They all took turns throwing the ball. Even Lyra who can talk herself into being petrified of dogs let go of my hand for almost 20 seconds at one point.
My friend was getting ready to go and he put Bob Dole back on his leash but Charlie kept throwing him the ball. They were (mostly) short throws within the length of the leash, but I have to admit that some were out of Bob's range. Because both Bob Dole and Baby Charlie were getting more and more wound up, my friend took the leash back off the dog. The game of fetch continued and after a particularly wild pitch that the dog did not even see, Charlie turned away from the dog and started to run. Bob Dole, being a dog, was jumping and playing with a great big smile on his face. He nipped and caught Charlie on his side.
Sadly, it was just like you'd think - I could see it happening before it did, but was not in a position to stop it. (Like I want to jump in there and get bit by a dog?!?)
Charlie screamed like he'd been shot at close range...not that I know what that sounds like, but I'd bet it'd be a pretty loud scream which is what Baby Charlie let out of his large open mouth.
Bob Dole managed to get one top tooth and one bottom tooth onto/into Baby Charlie's side. So there were two teeth marks about 4 inches apart. What I think was the bottom tooth gave him an immediate dark bruise the size of a pencil eraser. It has since turned into a larger bruise the size of a half-dollar. The other "wound" actually did puncture the skin. It didn't even bleed, but looked like it might.
Poor Baby Charz, he went crazy. He screamed for forever. My friend felt really bad, but it was just one of those things. But I have to admit, it was an uncomfortable situation.
Later we were in the house and Charlie's still screaming and my dad says "What would make it feel better?" And he says "Only if I could play the clarinet!" Excuse me? Okay, exactly when did playing the clarinet even come onto your radar screen, let alone become a focal point. I could find no relevance to any situation with that comment.
My Dad then told me that he was showing Tali (the oldest - who plays clarinet) his clarinet. Baby Charlie had been asking all day to play it, but my dad didn't have the cork grease or whatever you need to put it together when it hasn't been played in a long time. Finding out that the TV show "Wipeout" was on had a significant calming effect...but we only caught the last 20 minutes and so then there was renewed screaming.
The next statement was "I wish I was borned tomorrow." My Dad said "Why?" He said, "B/c then I wouldn't have got bitted." My Dad tried to make light of it with "Oh, it was just a little love nip!" This brought on another onslaught of tears...Lord! "It wasn't a nip...I got bitted!" Dad and I were on the floor laughing. It suddenly occurred to me that one of my non-blood relatives would've had the damn dog shot by now, and I'm finding immense humor in the situation!
Anyway, I got him to calm down long enough to get him into my parent's room to watch TV and guess what was on? "The Jackson's; An American Dream" and then all was right with the world...until that ended, but I promised he could watch it On Demand tomorrow and that helped to quell the screams.
Note to self: Double check Mom and Dad's cable package before promising children they can watch something On Demand!
When I finally, finally, FINALLY got him upstairs for bed and managed to get the Sponge Bob pj's on without coming remotely close to touching any part of the "injury" he settled down and got into bed. We talked for a few moments and he said with a sniff, "I wish I never got bitted." To which I replied, "Charlie, remember BobBob said it was a Love Nip!"
Being 5 he answered "It's a bite, it's a Bite, it's a BITE!"
Being immature I responded "It's a nip, it's a Nip, IT'S A NIP!"
"BITE!"
"NIP!"
"BITE!"
"NIP!"
"BITE!"
"NIP!"
"Awwww Mom, can't I just call it whatever I want?"
He sounded so tired and pathetic I actually felt a twinge of sorrow for the little guy. "Of course baby, you can call it anything you want!"
He paused just long enough for me to remember how much I love him when I heard a tiny voice say,
"Can I call it Michael Jackson?"
So onward, dear readers, to yet another look into why I blog for sanity's sake!
Note: The names of certain people and animals have been changed to protect the innocent. Any likeness to any person or animal, living or dead, may be the exact person or animal I am referring to, but my guess is, you really don't care!
Baby Charlie got nipped by a dog tonight. A friend from days gone by had stopped by my parent's house while walking his dog to say hello. Lets call the dog...ummm...Bob Dole!
Sidebar: When Charlie and I first got Peanut, we tried to name her Bob Dole. We were/are big Bob Dole fans and it was shortly after SNL did the skit where Bob Dole was on Real World. (Worth looking up on YouTube if you can find it!) At the time, it seemed like a good tribute.
I know what you're thinking and I guess I could see where those who don't comprehend my warped sense of humor and true love of Republican icons would not find it funny and may even see it as disrespectful to name a dog Bob Dole. I assure you it was only because we loved him so much that we would name our dog that. Think about it; if you name a dog after someone you don't like, would you be nice to it? Duh, NO!!! I could go on about this, but I'll save that for another day. Let's just say that if someone were to name their dog Mary Carlton, I would take it as a first rate compliment.
Unfortunately, the name 'Bob Dole' didn't stick on our puppy and we ended up with 'Peanut'. But, because I now have the freedom to re-name the dog in this post anything I want, I choose Bob Dole.
*End of Sidebar*
Bob Dole was a pretty dog, but it was obvious there was a mix of one of those two breeds that make normal people a bit skittish and freaks like Michael Vick smile. All the kids were a bit nervous at first, but then they slowly started to come around. The tennis ball was Baby Charlie's idea.
When Bob Dole started catching a tennis ball in mid-air on high bounces, low bounces, sideways bounces...the kids were diggin' it. They all took turns throwing the ball. Even Lyra who can talk herself into being petrified of dogs let go of my hand for almost 20 seconds at one point.
My friend was getting ready to go and he put Bob Dole back on his leash but Charlie kept throwing him the ball. They were (mostly) short throws within the length of the leash, but I have to admit that some were out of Bob's range. Because both Bob Dole and Baby Charlie were getting more and more wound up, my friend took the leash back off the dog. The game of fetch continued and after a particularly wild pitch that the dog did not even see, Charlie turned away from the dog and started to run. Bob Dole, being a dog, was jumping and playing with a great big smile on his face. He nipped and caught Charlie on his side.
Sadly, it was just like you'd think - I could see it happening before it did, but was not in a position to stop it. (Like I want to jump in there and get bit by a dog?!?)
Charlie screamed like he'd been shot at close range...not that I know what that sounds like, but I'd bet it'd be a pretty loud scream which is what Baby Charlie let out of his large open mouth.
Bob Dole managed to get one top tooth and one bottom tooth onto/into Baby Charlie's side. So there were two teeth marks about 4 inches apart. What I think was the bottom tooth gave him an immediate dark bruise the size of a pencil eraser. It has since turned into a larger bruise the size of a half-dollar. The other "wound" actually did puncture the skin. It didn't even bleed, but looked like it might.
Poor Baby Charz, he went crazy. He screamed for forever. My friend felt really bad, but it was just one of those things. But I have to admit, it was an uncomfortable situation.
Later we were in the house and Charlie's still screaming and my dad says "What would make it feel better?" And he says "Only if I could play the clarinet!" Excuse me? Okay, exactly when did playing the clarinet even come onto your radar screen, let alone become a focal point. I could find no relevance to any situation with that comment.
My Dad then told me that he was showing Tali (the oldest - who plays clarinet) his clarinet. Baby Charlie had been asking all day to play it, but my dad didn't have the cork grease or whatever you need to put it together when it hasn't been played in a long time. Finding out that the TV show "Wipeout" was on had a significant calming effect...but we only caught the last 20 minutes and so then there was renewed screaming.
The next statement was "I wish I was borned tomorrow." My Dad said "Why?" He said, "B/c then I wouldn't have got bitted." My Dad tried to make light of it with "Oh, it was just a little love nip!" This brought on another onslaught of tears...Lord! "It wasn't a nip...I got bitted!" Dad and I were on the floor laughing. It suddenly occurred to me that one of my non-blood relatives would've had the damn dog shot by now, and I'm finding immense humor in the situation!
Anyway, I got him to calm down long enough to get him into my parent's room to watch TV and guess what was on? "The Jackson's; An American Dream" and then all was right with the world...until that ended, but I promised he could watch it On Demand tomorrow and that helped to quell the screams.
Note to self: Double check Mom and Dad's cable package before promising children they can watch something On Demand!
When I finally, finally, FINALLY got him upstairs for bed and managed to get the Sponge Bob pj's on without coming remotely close to touching any part of the "injury" he settled down and got into bed. We talked for a few moments and he said with a sniff, "I wish I never got bitted." To which I replied, "Charlie, remember BobBob said it was a Love Nip!"
Being 5 he answered "It's a bite, it's a Bite, it's a BITE!"
Being immature I responded "It's a nip, it's a Nip, IT'S A NIP!"
"BITE!"
"NIP!"
"BITE!"
"NIP!"
"BITE!"
"NIP!"
"Awwww Mom, can't I just call it whatever I want?"
He sounded so tired and pathetic I actually felt a twinge of sorrow for the little guy. "Of course baby, you can call it anything you want!"
He paused just long enough for me to remember how much I love him when I heard a tiny voice say,
"Can I call it Michael Jackson?"
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Life Goes On...
Lyra, my Lyra. Sweet 7 year old Lyra who is missing her Daddy more than even she understands. I have spent night after night with her while she cries unable to wake up from a bad dream, or when she does wake up tells me she dreamt that Daddy got hurt or worse...that I told her Daddy was never coming home.
People can tell me all day how resilient kids are and I will tell them all the questions my kids have asked while Daddy's been gone. You can never completely bounce back from that kind of fear I think. I thought as they got older the deployments would be easier, I was wrong...way wrong!
So, back to Lyra (Leer-uh...rhymes with "Bartender, can I have a beer, uh make it two") Her full name is ILYRA. It's an Albanian name, that loosely translates to "freedom." And if I had any notion that naming her that would give her the personality to find her own freedom, I may have hesitated on the choice.
As far as I can remember she has done things her way. She has never been known to try to "impress" many of her relatives. This mainly goes to her Grandparents. Although she has a fun filled relationship with my father that has the two of them in a constant battle of who snuck the last spank, most days she doesn't give my mother the time of day. She's not outwardly malicious or nasty, just aloof. And it's worse with Charlie's parents. But, where my mother just ignores Lyra right back (which seems to maintain her respect), Charlie's parents try to force her to engage with them. This doesn't work out so well. It has gotten me in trouble for not "teaching that child how to respect her elders" and has gotten her a bad reputation for being a pill. For anyone who is agreeing with the elders comment; if you really use the word "elders" you're probably a little too prim and proper for this blog. Feel free to stay, I'm just sayin'...
The last time Charlie deployed to Afghanistan was in '07 and the child in question was 5. Although seemingly fine on almost every other front, she developed a ginormous fear of darkness and guns.
+++Note to parents: The musical OKLAHOMA, while seemingly innocent and fun, does nothing to reassure a phobic child when the theatre lights go down and the cowboys start kicking up their heels and firing their guns. However, should you forget this tidbit of advise, the guy working the lobby at Allenberry Playhouse in Carlisle, PA is very nice to chat with.+++
This deployment has been a bit different. She no longer screams bloody murder at the movie theater. This has been extremely helpful to the rest of the family as well as hundreds of theater goers. Nor does she blink an eye when her brother and 1/2 the neighborhood play Army Man.
She does however get angry. Very angry. So much so that after repeated unprovoked attacks on her siblings, I have put her into therapy. (I should mention here that I'm a big proponent of therapy. Everyone can use someone uninvolved in your life to talk to...and a professional usually gives you much better advise than the drunk sitting next to you at the bar.)
A few months ago, Lyra announced that she would be making her First Holy Communion when her Daddy came home and not on April 10th when the rest of the CCD class would. She told me "I want Daddy to see me do it with his own eyeballs, not through a camera." I had to admit, she made a good point. She was very upset that he did not get to see her play basketball this year. It didn't seem to matter that he didn't see Tali or Josie play either because "He saw them last year, he's never ever seen me."
I know this whole deployment thing has been hard on me and my brain can process why he's there. Tali made her 1st Communion while Charlie was in Afghanistan. It was hard for her, but Tali somehow has the ability to do what she needs to do and move on. She is mature beyond her years and my most emotionally stable child.
Lyra, not so much. So, when she announced she wanted to wait, I understood. After talking to friends and family I got up my nerve to go see the parish priest. Father Blank (no, not the real name, duh) is a very nice guy and is not any more threatening than any man of the collar. As a good Catholic, all priests make me a little nervous. Really, if you can completely let loose in front of a priest, you probably also use the word "elders" and we've already discussed your options to stop reading.
So, Father was cool and said "No problem. We'll figure it out once he comes home and do whatever you want to do." What was great was that he made this decision without the help of the DRE (Director of Religious Education). I did not want her involved any more than necessary. Let's just say she's a bit of a fanatic about Religious Ed., and loves to lay the guilt and any blame on the parents who are not "displaying a faith based example" for the children to follow. She announced at the beginning of the school year that "at least one parent of any child in a sacramental year shall sign up for an adult Bible study at the chapel." I refused for several reasons:
#1. The best way to get Mary Carlton to not do something is to tell her you are forcing her to do it. (Maybe why some of those college assignments didn't go so well)
#2. I had already signed up to go to the Women of St. Ignatius (WOSI) on Thursday mornings and they did a Bible study there. The DRE announced that WOSI and/or Knights of Columbus Bible studies did not count toward the sacramental year requirement. (I quit WOSI out of protest-- and the desire to have Thursday mornings free.)
#3. I have 5 children...given the choice, do you really think I would rather stay at church while they go to CCD instead of go back home and be alone for an hour and 1/2? Do you even have to think about that one???
#4. Perhaps, most importantly, the kids go to CCD at 8 AM on Sunday mornings. Please re-read reason #3 and then think about where I'd rather be at 8 AM on a Sunday morning. I kick them out the door and go back to bed!
Back to Lyra. We avoided the initial discussion with the DRE, and things continued along the chaotic path that has been this deployment. Lyra continued to fulfill all of her requirements and attended the day long retreat in mid-March. That afternoon they had a professional photographer come to do pictures. I signed up and we had Lyra's picture taken. Truthfully, I was afraid if I didn't do this, she would end up making her 1st Communion some random Sunday and never put the "outfit" on.
The pictures came out beautiful and the dress fit and all was well. The Friday before the Big Day, I mentioned to Lyra before she went to school, that if she had any intention at all of making her 1st Communion the next day, she HAD to go to practice that afternoon. I was very worried she would wake up Saturday and say "Let's go do my Communion thing now." I didn't really think that would happen, but with Lyra, you never do know. So what does she do...she says "Yes, I do want to make it tomorrow!"
After scraping my jaw off the floor (and washing my chin as the floor is perpetually filthy) I told her we would go to practice that afternoon.
So we went and it was entirely too long and the kids were losing their minds by the time we left. The morning of Communion was full of the typical chaos. The boys were fussing because they didn't want to go to childcare, the girls were annoyed I made them go at all BUT THEN I made them dress up. Evil Mother!!!
Mass was held at 10am on Saturday. We were instructed several times at practice AND at the actual mass that this DID NOT fulfill our Sunday obligation! (Thanks for nothin!) The mass itself went on for TWO HOURS! How many second graders do you know that can hang that long in church? Then, put them in uncomfortable outfits...
Lyra was horrible during mass. Fidgeting, fussing, whining and complaining. I finally realized she is at her worst behavior when she is nervous (it all makes sense now). When I questioned her about being scared she nodded and provided me with enough "What ifs" that I started to worry. I honestly was not sure she would go through with it until the host was actually in her mouth, and when it was, I'm sure the entire church heard my huge sigh of relief.
All I kept thinking was it's done, it's over, I don't have to stress anymore. As mass continued another 15 minutes the boy in front of us was crawling under the pew and the girl in front of him was twisting her head piece around so that the veil was against her face and she was sticking her tongue out against it...pretty!
Lyra was more than ready to go (so was I, so were Tali and Josie) when the DRE stood up and said "We have a few children out there whose Mom's or Dad's are deployed..." At this point, I was thinking that we were going to pray the "Peace Prayer for Deployed Soldiers" that we usually pray at the end of each mass which seemed like a nice touch. But no, they asked that the kids with a deployed parent to stand up. I stood up with Lyra because she was looking a bit pale. We were the only ones who stood up, and everyone looked at us with those pity filled faces and Lyra burst into tears.
As the DRE continued to talk I'm sure what Lyra heard was: "Lyra Carlton, please don't forget that your Dad is not here on your special day. Everyone else's Dad is here and we'd like to rub that in your face! Please stand up so we can all stare at you and make you feel worse than we already have."
It was then time to process out of the church, so there we went. I looked really tall surrounded by little girls wearing white. Lyra was hysterical. And after all that do you think that Father or the DRE talked to Lyra afterwards? NOPE! How sad is that?
I didn't realize I had stopped listening when Lyra started to cry, but my friend told me that the DRE ended her talk with "We're sorry they cannot be with us today, but well, life goes on. And the closing song will be..."
LIFE GOES ON??? Those are your words of wisdom for a heartbroken 7 year old? Thanks for your insight and "faith based example" lady!!!
People can tell me all day how resilient kids are and I will tell them all the questions my kids have asked while Daddy's been gone. You can never completely bounce back from that kind of fear I think. I thought as they got older the deployments would be easier, I was wrong...way wrong!
So, back to Lyra (Leer-uh...rhymes with "Bartender, can I have a beer, uh make it two") Her full name is ILYRA. It's an Albanian name, that loosely translates to "freedom." And if I had any notion that naming her that would give her the personality to find her own freedom, I may have hesitated on the choice.
As far as I can remember she has done things her way. She has never been known to try to "impress" many of her relatives. This mainly goes to her Grandparents. Although she has a fun filled relationship with my father that has the two of them in a constant battle of who snuck the last spank, most days she doesn't give my mother the time of day. She's not outwardly malicious or nasty, just aloof. And it's worse with Charlie's parents. But, where my mother just ignores Lyra right back (which seems to maintain her respect), Charlie's parents try to force her to engage with them. This doesn't work out so well. It has gotten me in trouble for not "teaching that child how to respect her elders" and has gotten her a bad reputation for being a pill. For anyone who is agreeing with the elders comment; if you really use the word "elders" you're probably a little too prim and proper for this blog. Feel free to stay, I'm just sayin'...
The last time Charlie deployed to Afghanistan was in '07 and the child in question was 5. Although seemingly fine on almost every other front, she developed a ginormous fear of darkness and guns.
+++Note to parents: The musical OKLAHOMA, while seemingly innocent and fun, does nothing to reassure a phobic child when the theatre lights go down and the cowboys start kicking up their heels and firing their guns. However, should you forget this tidbit of advise, the guy working the lobby at Allenberry Playhouse in Carlisle, PA is very nice to chat with.+++
This deployment has been a bit different. She no longer screams bloody murder at the movie theater. This has been extremely helpful to the rest of the family as well as hundreds of theater goers. Nor does she blink an eye when her brother and 1/2 the neighborhood play Army Man.
She does however get angry. Very angry. So much so that after repeated unprovoked attacks on her siblings, I have put her into therapy. (I should mention here that I'm a big proponent of therapy. Everyone can use someone uninvolved in your life to talk to...and a professional usually gives you much better advise than the drunk sitting next to you at the bar.)
A few months ago, Lyra announced that she would be making her First Holy Communion when her Daddy came home and not on April 10th when the rest of the CCD class would. She told me "I want Daddy to see me do it with his own eyeballs, not through a camera." I had to admit, she made a good point. She was very upset that he did not get to see her play basketball this year. It didn't seem to matter that he didn't see Tali or Josie play either because "He saw them last year, he's never ever seen me."
I know this whole deployment thing has been hard on me and my brain can process why he's there. Tali made her 1st Communion while Charlie was in Afghanistan. It was hard for her, but Tali somehow has the ability to do what she needs to do and move on. She is mature beyond her years and my most emotionally stable child.
Lyra, not so much. So, when she announced she wanted to wait, I understood. After talking to friends and family I got up my nerve to go see the parish priest. Father Blank (no, not the real name, duh) is a very nice guy and is not any more threatening than any man of the collar. As a good Catholic, all priests make me a little nervous. Really, if you can completely let loose in front of a priest, you probably also use the word "elders" and we've already discussed your options to stop reading.
So, Father was cool and said "No problem. We'll figure it out once he comes home and do whatever you want to do." What was great was that he made this decision without the help of the DRE (Director of Religious Education). I did not want her involved any more than necessary. Let's just say she's a bit of a fanatic about Religious Ed., and loves to lay the guilt and any blame on the parents who are not "displaying a faith based example" for the children to follow. She announced at the beginning of the school year that "at least one parent of any child in a sacramental year shall sign up for an adult Bible study at the chapel." I refused for several reasons:
#1. The best way to get Mary Carlton to not do something is to tell her you are forcing her to do it. (Maybe why some of those college assignments didn't go so well)
#2. I had already signed up to go to the Women of St. Ignatius (WOSI) on Thursday mornings and they did a Bible study there. The DRE announced that WOSI and/or Knights of Columbus Bible studies did not count toward the sacramental year requirement. (I quit WOSI out of protest-- and the desire to have Thursday mornings free.)
#3. I have 5 children...given the choice, do you really think I would rather stay at church while they go to CCD instead of go back home and be alone for an hour and 1/2? Do you even have to think about that one???
#4. Perhaps, most importantly, the kids go to CCD at 8 AM on Sunday mornings. Please re-read reason #3 and then think about where I'd rather be at 8 AM on a Sunday morning. I kick them out the door and go back to bed!
Back to Lyra. We avoided the initial discussion with the DRE, and things continued along the chaotic path that has been this deployment. Lyra continued to fulfill all of her requirements and attended the day long retreat in mid-March. That afternoon they had a professional photographer come to do pictures. I signed up and we had Lyra's picture taken. Truthfully, I was afraid if I didn't do this, she would end up making her 1st Communion some random Sunday and never put the "outfit" on.
The pictures came out beautiful and the dress fit and all was well. The Friday before the Big Day, I mentioned to Lyra before she went to school, that if she had any intention at all of making her 1st Communion the next day, she HAD to go to practice that afternoon. I was very worried she would wake up Saturday and say "Let's go do my Communion thing now." I didn't really think that would happen, but with Lyra, you never do know. So what does she do...she says "Yes, I do want to make it tomorrow!"
After scraping my jaw off the floor (and washing my chin as the floor is perpetually filthy) I told her we would go to practice that afternoon.
So we went and it was entirely too long and the kids were losing their minds by the time we left. The morning of Communion was full of the typical chaos. The boys were fussing because they didn't want to go to childcare, the girls were annoyed I made them go at all BUT THEN I made them dress up. Evil Mother!!!
Mass was held at 10am on Saturday. We were instructed several times at practice AND at the actual mass that this DID NOT fulfill our Sunday obligation! (Thanks for nothin!) The mass itself went on for TWO HOURS! How many second graders do you know that can hang that long in church? Then, put them in uncomfortable outfits...
Lyra was horrible during mass. Fidgeting, fussing, whining and complaining. I finally realized she is at her worst behavior when she is nervous (it all makes sense now). When I questioned her about being scared she nodded and provided me with enough "What ifs" that I started to worry. I honestly was not sure she would go through with it until the host was actually in her mouth, and when it was, I'm sure the entire church heard my huge sigh of relief.
All I kept thinking was it's done, it's over, I don't have to stress anymore. As mass continued another 15 minutes the boy in front of us was crawling under the pew and the girl in front of him was twisting her head piece around so that the veil was against her face and she was sticking her tongue out against it...pretty!
Lyra was more than ready to go (so was I, so were Tali and Josie) when the DRE stood up and said "We have a few children out there whose Mom's or Dad's are deployed..." At this point, I was thinking that we were going to pray the "Peace Prayer for Deployed Soldiers" that we usually pray at the end of each mass which seemed like a nice touch. But no, they asked that the kids with a deployed parent to stand up. I stood up with Lyra because she was looking a bit pale. We were the only ones who stood up, and everyone looked at us with those pity filled faces and Lyra burst into tears.
As the DRE continued to talk I'm sure what Lyra heard was: "Lyra Carlton, please don't forget that your Dad is not here on your special day. Everyone else's Dad is here and we'd like to rub that in your face! Please stand up so we can all stare at you and make you feel worse than we already have."
It was then time to process out of the church, so there we went. I looked really tall surrounded by little girls wearing white. Lyra was hysterical. And after all that do you think that Father or the DRE talked to Lyra afterwards? NOPE! How sad is that?
I didn't realize I had stopped listening when Lyra started to cry, but my friend told me that the DRE ended her talk with "We're sorry they cannot be with us today, but well, life goes on. And the closing song will be..."
LIFE GOES ON??? Those are your words of wisdom for a heartbroken 7 year old? Thanks for your insight and "faith based example" lady!!!
Saturday, May 15, 2010
And then there are books...
I love to read...have always loved to read. I remember walking to the post library as a kid and checking out 10 books only to go back 3 days later b/c I was done and needed more. In fact, my Dad tells a story about how I came home crying one day saying the librarian wouldn't let me check out the number of books I wanted b/c she didn't believe I was reading them all. I think he came with me the next time I went.
***NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR*** I don't care what anyone says. Being a "reader" does not automatically make you a good speller. My Mother used to tell me that all the time. She figured since I read so much, spelling would come easy. Yeah, not really!
I am a horrible speller and will forever be a horrible speller. I keep meaning to create a Face Book group called "Please give us a spell check button."
Anyway, so I have continued to be a poor spelling reader. When I went back to work, after 5 kids and 10 years, I worked at Barnes & Noble which was perhaps the best job ever! Who doesn't love a bookstore? Very few people! (And they are the type of people I don't want to hang out with anyway) Who comes into a book store? People who like to read, that's who!
Check this out: They actually PAID me to hang out and help people find books, recommend books to people, shelve and display all the latest books, and watch how much money people spend on books while I saved a bundle going to the library! (Okay, I didn't save a bundle working there, BUT I really only spent money on gifts for other people and it was at 40% off!) To top it off, I didn't have to bring the kids to work! How cool is that?!?!
So, to celebrate my love for books and assist my ever depleting memory bank, I have started compiling a list of the books I read. It's great for recommending books to others when I can't think of the title AND it's good to check back so I can know if I've read a book before so I don't waste my time reading it again. I always include a little synopsis of the plot to remind myself what it was about. I may not remember the title, but maybe I'll remember the story line...or not.
To protect the potential reader of books off my list, I don't give anything away that you wouldn't find in the jacket cover and maybe less. I love my father dearly and would recommend asking his advice on almost anything...except a book or movie that you don't want to know the ending to. Honest to God, I cannot discuss a book or movie with him that he doesn't give away the twist at the end. Come to think of it, he does that with TV too. I'll say "Dad, I started watching _______ (pick a series, any series). I'm on Season One." He'll reply with "You know I really enjoyed that until they killed off so and so in Season 3. Seriously?!?! This is typically a main character and if it really bothered him it was most likely an attractive female).
The other issue I must touch upon is one regarding the books I read. I don't judge you based on the blogs you read (however lame they may be), so I don't expect to be judged on the books I choose. I have graduated from college and am done learning anything I don't want to learn. Therefore, I feel no need to exercise my brain when it comes to books.
This can best be explained by describing to you what happened when someone criticized my preference in books.
I had recently been stuck in a German hospital with no English TV or radio for two weeks before Baby Charlie was born. I was reading a book or two a day. I wouldn't have thought you could manage a John Grisham in a day, but I did...several times. In addition to about 8 John Grisham's, I had read the first two Janet Evanovich books which featured Stephanie Plum, bail bonds woman.
A few weeks later I was at a dinner party and the wives started to discuss books. I recommended Janet Evanovich to everyone. Someone said she'd never heard of her. I was trying to explain the story line to her and one of the the other ladies said. "Oh, there's really no intrinsic value to reading her books."
I wish I had enough self esteem at the time to tell her to get off her high overly Christian horse and kiss my ass! Excuse me for reading something beyond "The Red Tent," which if you want my opinion was too long and TMI. Alas, Mary the Meek won over.
I did look at her and respond "Well, the intrinsic value in reading her books is that they remove me from my reality here!" There most certainly is value in escaping your reality. Even when you are enjoying that reality. At that time I was most certainly NOT enjoying my reality so what better way to survive than to forget who, where and why you are...better with a book than a drink, I always say. Come to think of it, I never have said that. Both seem to work equally well at times. BUT, a book doesn't give you a hangover, so it's got that going for it.
Regardless, I have never forgotten, or forgiven that remark. Have I mentioned my grudge issue? The issue is that I hold them near and dear to my heart. I have honestly tried to work on this, gone to confession, wrote about them, trying to get over hurtful things people have done or said...and you know what? Ain't gonna happen!
I wouldn't say I have tons of grudges...but the ones I have held aren't goin' anywhere. There are simply some things I will NEVER forgive. I guess I just don't want to bad enough. I would love to tell you some, but seeing as my marriage is in a really great place right now, I'll just keep my mouth shut. Just to clarify, these issues are not with my husband, but trashing his family on my blog may not go too well. Actually, I've deleted and re-typed this about 5 times debating on what I can get away with. Now I'm just curious to see if he'll read it and comment. Waiting honey...are ya out there?
So, back to the point. I will start putting my book lists on here for anyone interested. Read them, delete them, print them out and shread them for all I care. I'm just lettin' you know.
***NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR*** I don't care what anyone says. Being a "reader" does not automatically make you a good speller. My Mother used to tell me that all the time. She figured since I read so much, spelling would come easy. Yeah, not really!
I am a horrible speller and will forever be a horrible speller. I keep meaning to create a Face Book group called "Please give us a spell check button."
Anyway, so I have continued to be a poor spelling reader. When I went back to work, after 5 kids and 10 years, I worked at Barnes & Noble which was perhaps the best job ever! Who doesn't love a bookstore? Very few people! (And they are the type of people I don't want to hang out with anyway) Who comes into a book store? People who like to read, that's who!
Check this out: They actually PAID me to hang out and help people find books, recommend books to people, shelve and display all the latest books, and watch how much money people spend on books while I saved a bundle going to the library! (Okay, I didn't save a bundle working there, BUT I really only spent money on gifts for other people and it was at 40% off!) To top it off, I didn't have to bring the kids to work! How cool is that?!?!
So, to celebrate my love for books and assist my ever depleting memory bank, I have started compiling a list of the books I read. It's great for recommending books to others when I can't think of the title AND it's good to check back so I can know if I've read a book before so I don't waste my time reading it again. I always include a little synopsis of the plot to remind myself what it was about. I may not remember the title, but maybe I'll remember the story line...or not.
To protect the potential reader of books off my list, I don't give anything away that you wouldn't find in the jacket cover and maybe less. I love my father dearly and would recommend asking his advice on almost anything...except a book or movie that you don't want to know the ending to. Honest to God, I cannot discuss a book or movie with him that he doesn't give away the twist at the end. Come to think of it, he does that with TV too. I'll say "Dad, I started watching _______ (pick a series, any series). I'm on Season One." He'll reply with "You know I really enjoyed that until they killed off so and so in Season 3. Seriously?!?! This is typically a main character and if it really bothered him it was most likely an attractive female).
The other issue I must touch upon is one regarding the books I read. I don't judge you based on the blogs you read (however lame they may be), so I don't expect to be judged on the books I choose. I have graduated from college and am done learning anything I don't want to learn. Therefore, I feel no need to exercise my brain when it comes to books.
This can best be explained by describing to you what happened when someone criticized my preference in books.
I had recently been stuck in a German hospital with no English TV or radio for two weeks before Baby Charlie was born. I was reading a book or two a day. I wouldn't have thought you could manage a John Grisham in a day, but I did...several times. In addition to about 8 John Grisham's, I had read the first two Janet Evanovich books which featured Stephanie Plum, bail bonds woman.
A few weeks later I was at a dinner party and the wives started to discuss books. I recommended Janet Evanovich to everyone. Someone said she'd never heard of her. I was trying to explain the story line to her and one of the the other ladies said. "Oh, there's really no intrinsic value to reading her books."
I wish I had enough self esteem at the time to tell her to get off her high overly Christian horse and kiss my ass! Excuse me for reading something beyond "The Red Tent," which if you want my opinion was too long and TMI. Alas, Mary the Meek won over.
I did look at her and respond "Well, the intrinsic value in reading her books is that they remove me from my reality here!" There most certainly is value in escaping your reality. Even when you are enjoying that reality. At that time I was most certainly NOT enjoying my reality so what better way to survive than to forget who, where and why you are...better with a book than a drink, I always say. Come to think of it, I never have said that. Both seem to work equally well at times. BUT, a book doesn't give you a hangover, so it's got that going for it.
Regardless, I have never forgotten, or forgiven that remark. Have I mentioned my grudge issue? The issue is that I hold them near and dear to my heart. I have honestly tried to work on this, gone to confession, wrote about them, trying to get over hurtful things people have done or said...and you know what? Ain't gonna happen!
I wouldn't say I have tons of grudges...but the ones I have held aren't goin' anywhere. There are simply some things I will NEVER forgive. I guess I just don't want to bad enough. I would love to tell you some, but seeing as my marriage is in a really great place right now, I'll just keep my mouth shut. Just to clarify, these issues are not with my husband, but trashing his family on my blog may not go too well. Actually, I've deleted and re-typed this about 5 times debating on what I can get away with. Now I'm just curious to see if he'll read it and comment. Waiting honey...are ya out there?
So, back to the point. I will start putting my book lists on here for anyone interested. Read them, delete them, print them out and shread them for all I care. I'm just lettin' you know.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Addendum to Dear Frog
This just in:
A strange looking female was seen wandering the streets of Ft. Leavenworth, KS last evening. It was not the well known ghost who is occasionally seen walking the grave yard and golf course on the base looking for her children. ('The Lady in Black' apparently sent her children out to get kindling for a fire in 1880 and they never returned).
No, not your average local ghost, this woman was dressed in pale pink pajamas with frogs all over them (frogs whose eyes glowed in the dark mind you), a hooded gray bathrobe flapping behind her and very comfy looking black Merrills on her feet. She was also carrying a flashlight.
As neighbors peered out their windows they report hearing the woman mumble a string of mostly indistinguishable words. The only word they could make out (that we are able to print) was "frog."
Rhythmically panning the yards and carports with a very weak flashlight that her children had obviously drained the batteries from, she continued most of the way down Thomas Ave.
A quiet shriek came across her lips as she was walked across a nearby residents yard and spotted a green (possibly grey) stuffed amphibian sitting comfortably in the baby swing of the swing set.
The last visual we have on the perpetrator was an anonymous witness seeing her trot up the alley, robe pulled tight around her and frog tucked under her arm and a delirious smile on her face.
Take caution if you see anyone resembling this description. Call the police and DO NOT under any circumstances try to take her down yourself. Any one nuts enough to leave the house at 11pm to comb the area for a stuffed animal has certainly lost their mind and is capable of anything.
Letter to the editor:
Dear Mr. Editor,
Why must you print such slander of what I can only assume is the most normal of women?
I'm sure many mother's would tell you that not only would a sane person leave their house in the dark of night to track down a stuffed animal, but an argument could be made that the parent that did NOT do that could qualify as a full blown lunatic!!!
Survival is an instinct of even the most incompetent of parents. And to survive while maintaining sanity, certain things must be considered.
1. How long does it take the normal child to scream themselves to sleep when desiring to hold their most prized possession?
2. How many parents will tell you they have an "normal" child? (And to those of you who think your child is normal, you are sadly mistaken.)
3. How many other non-normal children are in the house?
4. How long does is take those other children to fall back asleep?
5. What is the cost/benefit analysis of hunting the neighborhood for said prized possession at 11pm while it is windy, but dry vs. 3am in the rain?
6. Merrill's are so comfortable and functional, only the most savvy mother's wear them as slippers.
7. You may think that only a nut-job would parade around in pink pajama's with glowing eyed frogs, but perhaps her sister gave her those pajamas. The same sister probably recommended the Merrill's so we can only assume the sister is a smart contributing member of society. And sanity usually runs in the family does it not? Insanity certainly seems to.
So my point Mr. Editor is this: The woman's only mistake is not having 3 - 5 of these silly frogs. Why she doesn't just go to eBay and buy a few more is beyond understanding. However, if she is so dedicated to one child that she will sneak around the neighborhood at night, she must be severely dedicated to her other 4 children as well. Of course, I don't know for sure that she does have 5 children, why would I? And I wouldn't know that she's gorgeous either. That would just be a guess.
I'm just saying give her a break!
Respectfully,
Anonymous person that may or may not know the subject of your article, but someone who definitely, maybe, is NOT the person you (or I) was referring to.
A strange looking female was seen wandering the streets of Ft. Leavenworth, KS last evening. It was not the well known ghost who is occasionally seen walking the grave yard and golf course on the base looking for her children. ('The Lady in Black' apparently sent her children out to get kindling for a fire in 1880 and they never returned).
No, not your average local ghost, this woman was dressed in pale pink pajamas with frogs all over them (frogs whose eyes glowed in the dark mind you), a hooded gray bathrobe flapping behind her and very comfy looking black Merrills on her feet. She was also carrying a flashlight.
As neighbors peered out their windows they report hearing the woman mumble a string of mostly indistinguishable words. The only word they could make out (that we are able to print) was "frog."
Rhythmically panning the yards and carports with a very weak flashlight that her children had obviously drained the batteries from, she continued most of the way down Thomas Ave.
A quiet shriek came across her lips as she was walked across a nearby residents yard and spotted a green (possibly grey) stuffed amphibian sitting comfortably in the baby swing of the swing set.
The last visual we have on the perpetrator was an anonymous witness seeing her trot up the alley, robe pulled tight around her and frog tucked under her arm and a delirious smile on her face.
Take caution if you see anyone resembling this description. Call the police and DO NOT under any circumstances try to take her down yourself. Any one nuts enough to leave the house at 11pm to comb the area for a stuffed animal has certainly lost their mind and is capable of anything.
Letter to the editor:
Dear Mr. Editor,
Why must you print such slander of what I can only assume is the most normal of women?
I'm sure many mother's would tell you that not only would a sane person leave their house in the dark of night to track down a stuffed animal, but an argument could be made that the parent that did NOT do that could qualify as a full blown lunatic!!!
Survival is an instinct of even the most incompetent of parents. And to survive while maintaining sanity, certain things must be considered.
1. How long does it take the normal child to scream themselves to sleep when desiring to hold their most prized possession?
2. How many parents will tell you they have an "normal" child? (And to those of you who think your child is normal, you are sadly mistaken.)
3. How many other non-normal children are in the house?
4. How long does is take those other children to fall back asleep?
5. What is the cost/benefit analysis of hunting the neighborhood for said prized possession at 11pm while it is windy, but dry vs. 3am in the rain?
6. Merrill's are so comfortable and functional, only the most savvy mother's wear them as slippers.
7. You may think that only a nut-job would parade around in pink pajama's with glowing eyed frogs, but perhaps her sister gave her those pajamas. The same sister probably recommended the Merrill's so we can only assume the sister is a smart contributing member of society. And sanity usually runs in the family does it not? Insanity certainly seems to.
So my point Mr. Editor is this: The woman's only mistake is not having 3 - 5 of these silly frogs. Why she doesn't just go to eBay and buy a few more is beyond understanding. However, if she is so dedicated to one child that she will sneak around the neighborhood at night, she must be severely dedicated to her other 4 children as well. Of course, I don't know for sure that she does have 5 children, why would I? And I wouldn't know that she's gorgeous either. That would just be a guess.
I'm just saying give her a break!
Respectfully,
Anonymous person that may or may not know the subject of your article, but someone who definitely, maybe, is NOT the person you (or I) was referring to.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mother's Day
In honor of Mother's Day 2010 while Charlie is gone for yet again ANOTHER Mother's Day; I have taken the day off and am recycling something I wrote a long time ago.
This was written in 2004. Just think, I didn't even HAVE the boys yet!
ENJOY....
Since Charlie is not here to buy the girls gifts for me, I was thinking about what I’d really want from them anyway. They do love me unconditionally, and make me laugh when I’m on the verge of tears. They are my amazing miracles. Still……If their little brains could just somehow open up (however briefly) and grasp the following advice from me, their Mother, I think it would be incredibly beneficial to us all. I would certainly be more sure of maintaining my sanity, which could save us all time and money in the long run. (Therapy costs are rising.) Contributing to my sanity could only assist in keeping Charlie and I together longer. (A stable home life is healthy for children. Just ask Dr. Phil.) Hours of “timeouts,” loss of TV, even medical bills from needless beatings would all be saved. Life could be grand. Unfortunately, at their age, they could never process my words of wisdom. They’d be lost on 5, 4 and 2 year old brains that don’t absorb much beyond Barney, Cheese Sticks and the shape and size of their feces.
Instead of talking to the walls any more today, I’ve decided to share my thoughts with you…
1. When we are in public and you are working of rhyming, please stop when I ask you to. This will typically only happen after certain words such as: Duck, Muck, Luck…. Or Mit, Sit, Slit…..
2. When you aren’t listening and I start to count “One, Two…” This is not the time to show me that you know how to count to three. Also, should I be counting to your sister, please keep your numbers to yourself. I prefer to count on my own thank you. This will benefit both of you when the beatings begin.
3. Two things I never want to hear you say after you answer the phone: “She’s doing poopies” or “She’s doing Spit-em-ups right now.”
4. If I look exasperated and ask if you want to see my head spin around, this is not a promise of entertainment. It would not make you laugh; the thought should make you afraid. Be very afraid!
5. If you MUST touch, breathe on, or look at each other. Please do not do so at the following times: When I am driving, & when we are in public, including, but not limited to the grocery store, church, or any place the Germans will stare or feel the need to correct me or you.
6. When I have been gone over lunchtime, and I ask if Daddy fed you, please lie and say “Yes.”
7. When I have been sick or unable to assist you in the morning and I ask if Daddy picked out your clothes, please lie and say “No.”
8. The rule about not pointing is a good one. People who point too much get beat up. Same goes for staring. Same goes for people who tattle.
9. I will never think that cutting your own hair is a good idea until you are old enough that I no longer have to take credit for how ridiculous you look.
10. While you are rolling around on the floor of any given public place and people look down at you and smile. They DO NOT think you are cute; they are simply fantasizing about how far they could punt your little body. Either that or they are telling themselves how lucky they are that you are not their child.
So there you have it; my feeble attempt at maintaining harmony between parents and children.
Hope everyone has a wonderful Mother’s Day!
Love~
Mary
This was written in 2004. Just think, I didn't even HAVE the boys yet!
ENJOY....
Since Charlie is not here to buy the girls gifts for me, I was thinking about what I’d really want from them anyway. They do love me unconditionally, and make me laugh when I’m on the verge of tears. They are my amazing miracles. Still……If their little brains could just somehow open up (however briefly) and grasp the following advice from me, their Mother, I think it would be incredibly beneficial to us all. I would certainly be more sure of maintaining my sanity, which could save us all time and money in the long run. (Therapy costs are rising.) Contributing to my sanity could only assist in keeping Charlie and I together longer. (A stable home life is healthy for children. Just ask Dr. Phil.) Hours of “timeouts,” loss of TV, even medical bills from needless beatings would all be saved. Life could be grand. Unfortunately, at their age, they could never process my words of wisdom. They’d be lost on 5, 4 and 2 year old brains that don’t absorb much beyond Barney, Cheese Sticks and the shape and size of their feces.
Instead of talking to the walls any more today, I’ve decided to share my thoughts with you…
1. When we are in public and you are working of rhyming, please stop when I ask you to. This will typically only happen after certain words such as: Duck, Muck, Luck…. Or Mit, Sit, Slit…..
2. When you aren’t listening and I start to count “One, Two…” This is not the time to show me that you know how to count to three. Also, should I be counting to your sister, please keep your numbers to yourself. I prefer to count on my own thank you. This will benefit both of you when the beatings begin.
3. Two things I never want to hear you say after you answer the phone: “She’s doing poopies” or “She’s doing Spit-em-ups right now.”
4. If I look exasperated and ask if you want to see my head spin around, this is not a promise of entertainment. It would not make you laugh; the thought should make you afraid. Be very afraid!
5. If you MUST touch, breathe on, or look at each other. Please do not do so at the following times: When I am driving, & when we are in public, including, but not limited to the grocery store, church, or any place the Germans will stare or feel the need to correct me or you.
6. When I have been gone over lunchtime, and I ask if Daddy fed you, please lie and say “Yes.”
7. When I have been sick or unable to assist you in the morning and I ask if Daddy picked out your clothes, please lie and say “No.”
8. The rule about not pointing is a good one. People who point too much get beat up. Same goes for staring. Same goes for people who tattle.
9. I will never think that cutting your own hair is a good idea until you are old enough that I no longer have to take credit for how ridiculous you look.
10. While you are rolling around on the floor of any given public place and people look down at you and smile. They DO NOT think you are cute; they are simply fantasizing about how far they could punt your little body. Either that or they are telling themselves how lucky they are that you are not their child.
So there you have it; my feeble attempt at maintaining harmony between parents and children.
Hope everyone has a wonderful Mother’s Day!
Love~
Mary
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Letter to the General
I was missing Charlie the other night (pretty much like every night, except the ones where I'm too tired and delirious to miss anything) and I decided that maybe I should write someone a letter to let them know that I really needed him to come home.
One of the Generals over there is a family member's friend that I got to know several years ago. It was during my early 20s when I was not nearly as calm, refined and cultured as I am today. Hard to believe, I know!
Anyway, this is what I'd like to tell him:
Dear General Whom-I-Knew-Many-Moons-Ago:
Please let Charlie come home now as I am tired of his extended play date in Iraq. He has had fun, but is now needed at home b/c I am losing my mind. In order to maintain any amount of my sanity, which is currently down to ounces, he needs to leave your playground and return to my war zone.
BTW, as I am known as a 'helicopter Momma' I may as well be known as a 'helicopter Wife' and feel the need to let you know you have a pretty boy living next to my husband who is complaining about his need for beauty sleep. It would be nice if you could re-locate Zack Efron to where he would not be kept awake by my husbands TV, perhaps instead he could fall asleep to the sounds of IEDs or shells hitting the perimeters of his building.
Getting back to my husband; I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need this favor. You see we have five kids, yeah, stop laughing General Whom-I-Used-To-Party-With, and they have morphed into psychotic monsters while Charlie has been away. Today, I took them to a swimming party and Josie felt the need to hide Lyra's clothes in a different locker than Lyra left them in. This made Lyra so angry that she went to the stall where Josie was getting dressed and pulled the towel out from the bottom of the stall. Unfortunately, Josie was standing on the towel at the time which only confirmed that the floor was made of concrete.
I brought the two of them to the car and left Tali with Baby Charlie at the party so he could have some cake. As they came out and I went to meet them, I was informed by one of the other mothers that Baby Charlie had pushed her son for no reason and her son had pushed Baby Charlie back and knocked him over. Although he got the brunt of it, she was sure to emphasize that Baby Charlie started it. Makes a mother proud!
Later in the day, I was informed that Baby Charlie had broken a glass bottle outside the back door. When interrogated, he said "That was like 3 yesterdays ago and besides TJ told me to do it." This was reassuring as when questioned about hiding Lyra's clothes, Josie's response was "Tali told me to." I really think that if Charlie is not returned to maintain order in this house, my children will grow up susceptible to suggestions and end up jumping off bridges.
So you see, General I've-Seen-You-Sing-Paradise-By-The-Dashboard-Lights, no one here listens to me! Maybe you could break the cycle. Pretend like you care about what I have to say and that you are not only just hearing words, but realize that these words have meaning and perhaps there is a request of action among them!
I am well aware that there are many, many real 'Army Wives' who have had multiple deployments of 12 or even 15 months. These women somehow manage to feed, clothe, and even bath their children on a regular basis without maiming anyone in the household. I cannot promise the same. Somewhere I heard "The first step is to admit you have a problem." HELLO, Houston?...it ain't goin' so well!!!
I am low on rations, ammo, and Mike's Hard Lemonade. Aw hell, if I thought lawyers, guns, and money would help, I'd tell ya to send them! But what I need is my children's father. No one can put the fear of God into those creatures like he can. (That thought alone makes my heart smile)
I will be available to pick him up at the airport any time, day or night. Don't worry about compensating me for the duct tape and rope to keep the kids immobile at home while I go. If time is a problem, he really doesn't even need you land at the airport. I have runway lights lining the front porch and Charlie does a mean PLF.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, remember who I am, and figure out who my husband is. And of course, returning him to front lines of my household.
Respectfully~
Mrs LTC Charles Carlton
One of the Generals over there is a family member's friend that I got to know several years ago. It was during my early 20s when I was not nearly as calm, refined and cultured as I am today. Hard to believe, I know!
Anyway, this is what I'd like to tell him:
Dear General Whom-I-Knew-Many-Moons-Ago:
Please let Charlie come home now as I am tired of his extended play date in Iraq. He has had fun, but is now needed at home b/c I am losing my mind. In order to maintain any amount of my sanity, which is currently down to ounces, he needs to leave your playground and return to my war zone.
BTW, as I am known as a 'helicopter Momma' I may as well be known as a 'helicopter Wife' and feel the need to let you know you have a pretty boy living next to my husband who is complaining about his need for beauty sleep. It would be nice if you could re-locate Zack Efron to where he would not be kept awake by my husbands TV, perhaps instead he could fall asleep to the sounds of IEDs or shells hitting the perimeters of his building.
Getting back to my husband; I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need this favor. You see we have five kids, yeah, stop laughing General Whom-I-Used-To-Party-With, and they have morphed into psychotic monsters while Charlie has been away. Today, I took them to a swimming party and Josie felt the need to hide Lyra's clothes in a different locker than Lyra left them in. This made Lyra so angry that she went to the stall where Josie was getting dressed and pulled the towel out from the bottom of the stall. Unfortunately, Josie was standing on the towel at the time which only confirmed that the floor was made of concrete.
I brought the two of them to the car and left Tali with Baby Charlie at the party so he could have some cake. As they came out and I went to meet them, I was informed by one of the other mothers that Baby Charlie had pushed her son for no reason and her son had pushed Baby Charlie back and knocked him over. Although he got the brunt of it, she was sure to emphasize that Baby Charlie started it. Makes a mother proud!
Later in the day, I was informed that Baby Charlie had broken a glass bottle outside the back door. When interrogated, he said "That was like 3 yesterdays ago and besides TJ told me to do it." This was reassuring as when questioned about hiding Lyra's clothes, Josie's response was "Tali told me to." I really think that if Charlie is not returned to maintain order in this house, my children will grow up susceptible to suggestions and end up jumping off bridges.
So you see, General I've-Seen-You-Sing-Paradise-By-The-Dashboard-Lights, no one here listens to me! Maybe you could break the cycle. Pretend like you care about what I have to say and that you are not only just hearing words, but realize that these words have meaning and perhaps there is a request of action among them!
I am well aware that there are many, many real 'Army Wives' who have had multiple deployments of 12 or even 15 months. These women somehow manage to feed, clothe, and even bath their children on a regular basis without maiming anyone in the household. I cannot promise the same. Somewhere I heard "The first step is to admit you have a problem." HELLO, Houston?...it ain't goin' so well!!!
I am low on rations, ammo, and Mike's Hard Lemonade. Aw hell, if I thought lawyers, guns, and money would help, I'd tell ya to send them! But what I need is my children's father. No one can put the fear of God into those creatures like he can. (That thought alone makes my heart smile)
I will be available to pick him up at the airport any time, day or night. Don't worry about compensating me for the duct tape and rope to keep the kids immobile at home while I go. If time is a problem, he really doesn't even need you land at the airport. I have runway lights lining the front porch and Charlie does a mean PLF.
Thank you for taking the time to read this, remember who I am, and figure out who my husband is. And of course, returning him to front lines of my household.
Respectfully~
Mrs LTC Charles Carlton
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Patience is a virtue...
It's been awhile since I've been called a tease..heh, heh, heh, but I realize telling everyone to come check out the blog and then not write for several days was not the nicest thing to do.
It was not, however, intentional. And as a matter of clarification guys; as long as we are talking about it, there are girls out there who don't "intend" to be a tease. Y'all need to just get it through your heads that smiling and saying hello is not an invitation. It's just a pleasant facial expression and a common greeting. But that's all in a galaxy far far away from my current life...
So here's the deal. I was going to write last night. (I enjoy getting comfy and toasty in bed and writing on my netbook.) Unfortunately, the days events did not a comfy ending make.
First of all, it was Wednesday. That meant that Lyra had a soccer game and Charlie had a t-ball game. I thought I was in for a calm evening as Lyra skipped her soccer game due to a "sprained" ankle. She really did hurt it two weeks ago, and I foolishly allowed her to continue playing on it. Truth be told, I allowed her to stand out on the soccer field and compare headbands and ponytails with her friend until the ball rolled by them and into the goal twice. But, in the course of the game, when they separated the two of them she actually did some running around. (This would be the game where the assistant coach feels the need to yell at a bunch of 7 year olds who aren't playing up to professional capacity. See Post Titled "Random Thoughts...from the week so far")
So Charlie played T-ball which I have come to realize means Tackle Ball to most 5 year old boys. The ball would get hit and 10 of the 12 kids on the team (2 are girls) would end up in a pile on the infield fighting over who was going to make the play. Charlie seems to be the ring leader in most of the pile ups which makes a mother proud. So the game ends after two innings because it takes an hour to play two innings and Charlie falls to pieces. He simply didn't want the game to end. He comes to me screaming and crying and I tell him he better go back out there for the "good game" ritual or he's not going to get his snack. No luck, so I pick him up to take him to the car only then noticing that his feet are literally two bricks of mud. Leave it to my child to find the one mud pit in the outfield while he was playing pitcher.
You know where this is going...I pick him up to take him to the car and he starts kicking me in the shins with his nasty cleats leaving bruises under the glops of mud that are now sliming down my legs. We get to the car and I buckle him in only to realize that the girls have my keys. They are at the complete other end of the park...literally 4 baseball fields away. I buckle Charlie into his car seat, still screaming, and go to get the keys. I get 3/4 of the way there and Lyra is coming towards me. I yell "Do you have my keys?" She stops "No, Tali does." Okay, she is 20 feet from Tali and I am twice that far. "Run over to Tali, get the keys and bring them to me." Her answer? "NO!" This was not a good moment for her to test her independance. I honestly think the look in my eyes scared her more than anything. I went balistic. It was a lovely site for the neighborhood to see. I thanked God that the fields I was passing were now flipped and only the outfielders could really hear what was going on.
She made the smart decision to get the keys and bring them to me, then she ran ahead to play on the playground until I caught up. I'm in the car first and tell her to get in and she decides to slide down the parallel poles one more time out of defience...and she falls. I knew it hurt, but frankly, I didn't care. "GET IN THE CAR!" Keep in mind that during all this, Charlie is still crying. I realized that Josie has since appeared in the car. That girl is stealth, it's uncanny. I drive back to the other end where Tali is and tell her she needs to come home. She does her 327th eye roll of the day...again not a good moment to test her mother. "GET IN THE CAR!" She sauters over to the car and says "Did you get my jacket and soda?" "No" "Well it was right there." "Well, it doesn't fit me, not mine, not picking up after you!" Wait for it...wait for it...there it is, 328th eye roll of the day! We pull up to where the jacket is sitting and I open the side door. She sits there for a second and says, "Am I getting out to get it?" Deep breath Mary..."Yes, yes you are."
At this point it crosses my mind how difficult it will be to drive when my head begins to spin and I spew green vomit all over the windshield.
Sawyer had left the game early with a friend and was home waiting for us. The friend said Sawyer was in a great mood and she left. Within 3 minutes there was Sawyer on the floor of the kitchen in complete meltdown mode. Charlie and Lyra were still crying and Tali who suddenly is a walking hormonal factory, bursts into tears because everyone is making so much noise. Josie, surprisingly enough, was the only one not crying and for that I was grateful. Oh wait, she just realized she had homework that she forgot about.
It doesn't get much better than that folks, 5 out of 5 crying! And crying hard! Just another happy evening in the Carlton home. Really? Does this ever happen to anyone else? Someone told me today that they like my blog because it makes thier life seem so calm in comparason. So glad I can be of service!
Somehow, by the grace of God, we get through showers and some semblance of a meal. I was downstairs trying to make heads or tails out of a bunch of Special Needs jargon to be ready for a big meeting with Sawyer's school on Friday. (They want to kick him out of Special Ed, yet he was just diagnosed with autism. A post for another day. But if you want to feel overwhelmed, google "autism." There's just a wee bit of information out there...NOT)
so I'm on the computer praying that they will just fall asleep. I really don't want to go up there unless I have to. Lyra, Charlie, and Sawyer are in my bed watching TV and it occurs to me that I don't need no Super Nanny, I need Vic Mackey to quel the territorial gang wars raging in my bedroom. (Vic Mackey - "The Sheild" If you don't know, put it on your Netflix cue starting w/ Season 1. It will NOT disappoint!!!)
Earlier in the day, I had washed my extra set of sheets for the third time. The first and second times were Saturday and Tuesday. I was so proud of moving them to the dryer now that they were certainly CLEAN! I had big plans of re-making the bed so I could wash the sheets that had poptart crumbs and goldfish ground into them. If successful in changing the sheets, I may actaully be able to start folding the 5 loads of clean laundry that had been patiently waiting at the foot of my bed for several days.
If I got the clothes folded, maybe I could put them away. And if I did that, I could crawl into bed with a clear conscience and type on my blog. I might even stay up to play on FaceBook. However, it was not meant to be...When I came up Sawyer was still awake (damn afternoon nap). He must've been saving his energy. He started screaming that he didn't want Lyra in the bed and I don't remember what else. I no sooner get him to sleep and Lyra wakes up. She falls apart b/c she was trying to stay awake to watch a movie and she "can never stay awake to watch anything." Telling her that when I was young "The Sound of Music" came on once a year and if you fell asleep there was no DVR-ing it or pulling it off the shelf in the playroom did nothing to calm her. Apparently, falling asleep during the made-for-TV Disney Movie "Good Boy" can be a life altering failure for an eight year old. How glad am I not to have her rough life?!?!
She falls back asleep around 11:30. I think of the netbook on the floor next to me...maybe. Who am I kidding? Screw that! I'm going to sleep! (Good thing too b/c Baby Charlie was up at 3:30)
So, dear reader, I was not neglecting you. However hard to believe, I promise that I was not sitting back and feeling giddy that you may be checking the blog only to find I had not written again. Have faith, my friend. If I am not writing, it's because life is so psychotic that I can't make it to the computer. But see, for you, this is a good thing...because there most certainly will be a story to follow!
It was not, however, intentional. And as a matter of clarification guys; as long as we are talking about it, there are girls out there who don't "intend" to be a tease. Y'all need to just get it through your heads that smiling and saying hello is not an invitation. It's just a pleasant facial expression and a common greeting. But that's all in a galaxy far far away from my current life...
So here's the deal. I was going to write last night. (I enjoy getting comfy and toasty in bed and writing on my netbook.) Unfortunately, the days events did not a comfy ending make.
First of all, it was Wednesday. That meant that Lyra had a soccer game and Charlie had a t-ball game. I thought I was in for a calm evening as Lyra skipped her soccer game due to a "sprained" ankle. She really did hurt it two weeks ago, and I foolishly allowed her to continue playing on it. Truth be told, I allowed her to stand out on the soccer field and compare headbands and ponytails with her friend until the ball rolled by them and into the goal twice. But, in the course of the game, when they separated the two of them she actually did some running around. (This would be the game where the assistant coach feels the need to yell at a bunch of 7 year olds who aren't playing up to professional capacity. See Post Titled "Random Thoughts...from the week so far")
So Charlie played T-ball which I have come to realize means Tackle Ball to most 5 year old boys. The ball would get hit and 10 of the 12 kids on the team (2 are girls) would end up in a pile on the infield fighting over who was going to make the play. Charlie seems to be the ring leader in most of the pile ups which makes a mother proud. So the game ends after two innings because it takes an hour to play two innings and Charlie falls to pieces. He simply didn't want the game to end. He comes to me screaming and crying and I tell him he better go back out there for the "good game" ritual or he's not going to get his snack. No luck, so I pick him up to take him to the car only then noticing that his feet are literally two bricks of mud. Leave it to my child to find the one mud pit in the outfield while he was playing pitcher.
You know where this is going...I pick him up to take him to the car and he starts kicking me in the shins with his nasty cleats leaving bruises under the glops of mud that are now sliming down my legs. We get to the car and I buckle him in only to realize that the girls have my keys. They are at the complete other end of the park...literally 4 baseball fields away. I buckle Charlie into his car seat, still screaming, and go to get the keys. I get 3/4 of the way there and Lyra is coming towards me. I yell "Do you have my keys?" She stops "No, Tali does." Okay, she is 20 feet from Tali and I am twice that far. "Run over to Tali, get the keys and bring them to me." Her answer? "NO!" This was not a good moment for her to test her independance. I honestly think the look in my eyes scared her more than anything. I went balistic. It was a lovely site for the neighborhood to see. I thanked God that the fields I was passing were now flipped and only the outfielders could really hear what was going on.
She made the smart decision to get the keys and bring them to me, then she ran ahead to play on the playground until I caught up. I'm in the car first and tell her to get in and she decides to slide down the parallel poles one more time out of defience...and she falls. I knew it hurt, but frankly, I didn't care. "GET IN THE CAR!" Keep in mind that during all this, Charlie is still crying. I realized that Josie has since appeared in the car. That girl is stealth, it's uncanny. I drive back to the other end where Tali is and tell her she needs to come home. She does her 327th eye roll of the day...again not a good moment to test her mother. "GET IN THE CAR!" She sauters over to the car and says "Did you get my jacket and soda?" "No" "Well it was right there." "Well, it doesn't fit me, not mine, not picking up after you!" Wait for it...wait for it...there it is, 328th eye roll of the day! We pull up to where the jacket is sitting and I open the side door. She sits there for a second and says, "Am I getting out to get it?" Deep breath Mary..."Yes, yes you are."
At this point it crosses my mind how difficult it will be to drive when my head begins to spin and I spew green vomit all over the windshield.
Sawyer had left the game early with a friend and was home waiting for us. The friend said Sawyer was in a great mood and she left. Within 3 minutes there was Sawyer on the floor of the kitchen in complete meltdown mode. Charlie and Lyra were still crying and Tali who suddenly is a walking hormonal factory, bursts into tears because everyone is making so much noise. Josie, surprisingly enough, was the only one not crying and for that I was grateful. Oh wait, she just realized she had homework that she forgot about.
It doesn't get much better than that folks, 5 out of 5 crying! And crying hard! Just another happy evening in the Carlton home. Really? Does this ever happen to anyone else? Someone told me today that they like my blog because it makes thier life seem so calm in comparason. So glad I can be of service!
Somehow, by the grace of God, we get through showers and some semblance of a meal. I was downstairs trying to make heads or tails out of a bunch of Special Needs jargon to be ready for a big meeting with Sawyer's school on Friday. (They want to kick him out of Special Ed, yet he was just diagnosed with autism. A post for another day. But if you want to feel overwhelmed, google "autism." There's just a wee bit of information out there...NOT)
so I'm on the computer praying that they will just fall asleep. I really don't want to go up there unless I have to. Lyra, Charlie, and Sawyer are in my bed watching TV and it occurs to me that I don't need no Super Nanny, I need Vic Mackey to quel the territorial gang wars raging in my bedroom. (Vic Mackey - "The Sheild" If you don't know, put it on your Netflix cue starting w/ Season 1. It will NOT disappoint!!!)
Earlier in the day, I had washed my extra set of sheets for the third time. The first and second times were Saturday and Tuesday. I was so proud of moving them to the dryer now that they were certainly CLEAN! I had big plans of re-making the bed so I could wash the sheets that had poptart crumbs and goldfish ground into them. If successful in changing the sheets, I may actaully be able to start folding the 5 loads of clean laundry that had been patiently waiting at the foot of my bed for several days.
If I got the clothes folded, maybe I could put them away. And if I did that, I could crawl into bed with a clear conscience and type on my blog. I might even stay up to play on FaceBook. However, it was not meant to be...When I came up Sawyer was still awake (damn afternoon nap). He must've been saving his energy. He started screaming that he didn't want Lyra in the bed and I don't remember what else. I no sooner get him to sleep and Lyra wakes up. She falls apart b/c she was trying to stay awake to watch a movie and she "can never stay awake to watch anything." Telling her that when I was young "The Sound of Music" came on once a year and if you fell asleep there was no DVR-ing it or pulling it off the shelf in the playroom did nothing to calm her. Apparently, falling asleep during the made-for-TV Disney Movie "Good Boy" can be a life altering failure for an eight year old. How glad am I not to have her rough life?!?!
She falls back asleep around 11:30. I think of the netbook on the floor next to me...maybe. Who am I kidding? Screw that! I'm going to sleep! (Good thing too b/c Baby Charlie was up at 3:30)
So, dear reader, I was not neglecting you. However hard to believe, I promise that I was not sitting back and feeling giddy that you may be checking the blog only to find I had not written again. Have faith, my friend. If I am not writing, it's because life is so psychotic that I can't make it to the computer. But see, for you, this is a good thing...because there most certainly will be a story to follow!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Thanks for stopping by!
WOW!!! I asked you to come and you did! You really did!
So, here's where I say thanks and welcome to my blog! However, there are a few things you should know before you begin to read on. I have no problem with anyone and everyone reading my stuff, but there are a few select people who may enjoy it more than others. I want to take the time to point out the characteristics of those who will most benefit from said reading. That way, they know who they are and the rest of you can decide if I am blogworthy!
If you have children, know any children, or were once a child...you may want to read on.
If you are a parent, know a parent, or had a parent...you may want to continue.
Catholics (recovering or otherwise) and anyone else harboring excessive guilt...you are always welcome here.
If you have lived in 10 different houses in 13 years of marriage and have stopped hanging curtains altogether...put down your husbands rank and hang out here!
If you live in fear that Social Services may come knocking at your door by accident, perhaps looking for directions, and happen to see the state of your house...read on Sister!
If you have ever almost set the house on fire because you forgot about the nipples and/or pacifiers you left to boil on the stove...you are among friends.
If you skip any recipe that requires cutting up more than two things...find a comfortable chair and sit. (cuz you know you ain't worried about what's for dinner yet!)
If you've ever been at a school function and your child says "Stop! My Mom's not here yet." And you say "Honey, I'm right here in the front." And he says "Oh Wow, I didn't know that's how you look in a dress!"...I feel your pain.
If you re-wash at LEAST one load of laundry a week, because the first time you washed it you left it in the washing machine so long it is almost dry...we may be related.
If you have ever put one sippy cup or pacifier (the special one) into a dishwasher full of clean dishes and re-ran the whole thing because you were simply too tired to unload the clean stuff first...you, my friend, are home!
BUT,if none of those things sound remotely familiar...you may have better things to do with your perfect life than read my blog. However, feel free to deviate from your obnoxiousness and see how the rest of us live!
So, here's where I say thanks and welcome to my blog! However, there are a few things you should know before you begin to read on. I have no problem with anyone and everyone reading my stuff, but there are a few select people who may enjoy it more than others. I want to take the time to point out the characteristics of those who will most benefit from said reading. That way, they know who they are and the rest of you can decide if I am blogworthy!
If you have children, know any children, or were once a child...you may want to read on.
If you are a parent, know a parent, or had a parent...you may want to continue.
Catholics (recovering or otherwise) and anyone else harboring excessive guilt...you are always welcome here.
If you have lived in 10 different houses in 13 years of marriage and have stopped hanging curtains altogether...put down your husbands rank and hang out here!
If you live in fear that Social Services may come knocking at your door by accident, perhaps looking for directions, and happen to see the state of your house...read on Sister!
If you have ever almost set the house on fire because you forgot about the nipples and/or pacifiers you left to boil on the stove...you are among friends.
If you skip any recipe that requires cutting up more than two things...find a comfortable chair and sit. (cuz you know you ain't worried about what's for dinner yet!)
If you've ever been at a school function and your child says "Stop! My Mom's not here yet." And you say "Honey, I'm right here in the front." And he says "Oh Wow, I didn't know that's how you look in a dress!"...I feel your pain.
If you re-wash at LEAST one load of laundry a week, because the first time you washed it you left it in the washing machine so long it is almost dry...we may be related.
If you have ever put one sippy cup or pacifier (the special one) into a dishwasher full of clean dishes and re-ran the whole thing because you were simply too tired to unload the clean stuff first...you, my friend, are home!
BUT,if none of those things sound remotely familiar...you may have better things to do with your perfect life than read my blog. However, feel free to deviate from your obnoxiousness and see how the rest of us live!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Random Thoughts...from the week so far...
There are people in the world who still use rocks to mash wheat to make bread and some who wash their clothes in the local river. Am I really so helpless that I need an "EZ Cracker" to break, peel and/or separate my eggs for me? Really???
Will someone please tell FaceBook to install a spell check button? Am I the only one who needs this?
Did the man at the optical shop think I didn't hear him the first TWO times he said "Boy, I hope your husband comes home soon?" Did he really have to say it one more time as the 5 kids and I walked out the door? Thanks for your support buddy!
Who raised the parents that are out there yelling at their kids during sporting events? How does that seem okay to tell your son/daughter "it's about time" they scored a goal? At 7 years old, I'm thinking that kid is gonna hate you soon if he doesn't already. Get over yourself and the fact that you are old and are no longer playing competitive sports!
What kind of "cleaning lady" leaves the vaccum in the middle of the living room with the cord wrapped around it all weird (not in the proper cord wrapping position) and leaves the bag of trash sitting next to the back door when she passes the garbage can on the way out?
How did Hallmark convince my children that they MUST accompany their $10 - $15 birthday gifts to friends with a $6 musical (and quite annoying) greeting card?
I've had two people leave me messages this week saying "I thought we discussed this and... " NEWSFLASH! I have 5 children and a deployed husband...do you really think you can tell me something once and I'll remember it? If that's the case; GET A CLUE SISTER - I can't even remember my kids names half the time, you expect me to remember a conversation from two weeks ago? Not gonna happen!
I'm sure there were other people and events that annoyed me this week, but seeing as my brain cells are stir fried...I can't remember them.
Will someone please tell FaceBook to install a spell check button? Am I the only one who needs this?
Did the man at the optical shop think I didn't hear him the first TWO times he said "Boy, I hope your husband comes home soon?" Did he really have to say it one more time as the 5 kids and I walked out the door? Thanks for your support buddy!
Who raised the parents that are out there yelling at their kids during sporting events? How does that seem okay to tell your son/daughter "it's about time" they scored a goal? At 7 years old, I'm thinking that kid is gonna hate you soon if he doesn't already. Get over yourself and the fact that you are old and are no longer playing competitive sports!
What kind of "cleaning lady" leaves the vaccum in the middle of the living room with the cord wrapped around it all weird (not in the proper cord wrapping position) and leaves the bag of trash sitting next to the back door when she passes the garbage can on the way out?
How did Hallmark convince my children that they MUST accompany their $10 - $15 birthday gifts to friends with a $6 musical (and quite annoying) greeting card?
I've had two people leave me messages this week saying "I thought we discussed this and... " NEWSFLASH! I have 5 children and a deployed husband...do you really think you can tell me something once and I'll remember it? If that's the case; GET A CLUE SISTER - I can't even remember my kids names half the time, you expect me to remember a conversation from two weeks ago? Not gonna happen!
I'm sure there were other people and events that annoyed me this week, but seeing as my brain cells are stir fried...I can't remember them.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Michael Jackson vs. The Tap Dance Kid
Child #4 (5 if you want to be specific, but that's a story for another day). Baby Charlie, yes, at 5 years old he is still called Baby Charlie...AND he's not even the youngest child or the youngest boy. So there! Feel free to submit possible nicknames. Nothing seems to stick.
Back to the point, my wonderful, adorable, exasperating child #4. He is hilarious. I say God made him cute so I don't kill him and I do believe there is some truth to that.
Today, I had a ton of work to do on the computer and really needed the kids out of my face. It was a beautiful afternoon and when they complained they had nothing to do outside, I gave the girls the 6 little bottles of nail polish that I forgot to give them for Easter. (That means they got too much stuff in their baskets if you ask me).
The boys were out playing Army man with their bows and arrows. I'd call that Indians, but that's just me. Baby Charlie has been running around the neighborhood with a bunch of older boys playing Army man and he gets annoyed b/c he has to borrow a gun from one of them. It's not that I have anything major against buying him a toy gun, he just hasn't been in need of one til now. And since he was just as happy to run around with his bow and arrow today...I'm thinking I can blow it off for a few more weeks. Sawyer doesn't quite play Army man. At 3, the older boys let him be like the "Innocent Victim" that pops out from behind the furniture in a shoot 'em up video game. They try not to shoot at him when they come running around the corner and he's using his bow to "golf" the wiffle ball around the yard. He is however, great for pointing out the direction the other kids ran. Of course he's a double agent; an equal opportunity snitch.
Back to the girls who are SO excited that I just gave them new nail polish for no reason! I'm such a cool mom...if they only knew. I go back into the living room to finish writing a timeline of one of the kids medical histories. This is long and tedious and frustrating beyond belief. At this point, someone knocks at the door. I am faintly reminded that I saw the doorbell sitting somewhere in the house. (Yet another brain cloud - did you read the last post? If you did then you would know what I'm talking about and not feel left out)
***I would at this point advise any parent to double check that your doorbell is securely fastened to your house. There are few things more annoying than having your children remove the doorbell from the front of the house then proceed to hide behind the tree and ring it every 47 seconds. Think about it, you can't sit there and wait until the brat comes sneaking back to ring it again. They are all falling all over the ground behind the oak tree and you can't see them. They tried sitting in the living room holding the doorbell under their leg, but quickly realized that if there is a child within yelling distance I am NOT getting up to answer the door...now, back to the knock.
It is my good friend's husband. He has come to help me figure out a Geek Squad question that I need to find the answer to b/c Charlie's laptop has a virus...in Iraq. Gotta love those Signal guys! Good Friend's Husband (names have been changed to protect the innocent) is making progress and showing me how to navigate the computer which I think I understand but will not be able to do once he walks out.
Enter child #4, with a big grin on his face. This is trouble and I knew immediately what was going on.
"Look at my toes Momma!"
"They're lovely." I said, "Who painted them?"
"Me! Did I do good?"
I'm wanting to crawl under the desk, b/c as much as Good Friend would've laughed her ass off, men just don't see the humor in this kind of thing. I then reassure Good Friend's Husband that he should be glad that his boy is the oldest. As I write this I realize that I completely forgot Good Friend's Child #4 is a boy and has two older sisters. Oops! (Good Friend is probably reading this and thinking I should be lowered to Acquaintance status)
I return to the discussion at hand. "Can I see your fingers?"
"I didn't do them."
"YES!!!" I shreik in my head. Then I foolish ask "You know why you shouldn't do your fingers right?"
The reply "Because I can hide my toes in my shoes, right?!?"
I'm actually wondering if this is how drag queens start out and what Charlie will think if Baby Charlie puts his toes up to the web cam the next time we Skype. Sawyer came in a few minutes later with a pedi mani and feeling very happy. (These were of course rainbow manicures.)
Good Friend's Husband has turned so pale you could see the thoughts circling his brain. "Must leave now. Must leave NOW!" This is actually good as it replaced "I can't believe this house is such a disaster!"
"Well,Mary,justtellCharliewhatItoldyouandit'llbefineseeyoulater.Bye!"
"Uh, thanks, bye!"
We try to follow Good Friend's Husband out to the porch to bid him farewell but he's gone with the wind. Charlie starts telling me of yet another YouTube video he found of something Micheal Jackson. What I find truly amazing is the amount of random stuff on YouTube. Storm troopers moon walking, MJ vs. Sponge Bob, and my personal favorite; Michal Jackson videos done with Lego's. He's seen them all and made the rest of the family suffer through each and every one. He's borderline obsessed. He told me last week, "I very want a shiny glove Momma. Just one!" He has also asked to walk through the cemetery on post to see if we can find Michael Jackson's grave. "He could be there Momma, he could!"
As he babbles away I am picking up toys from the front yard that a leprechaun must have left there b/c certainly NONE of my children would have left them out. "It's not just that I didn't play with it, I didn't even see that toy today!"
Suddenly, I hear him pause and my brain tries to replay his last statement...uh oh, it was a question. You can tell b/c he's looking at me with that I-just-asked-you-a-question face. Crap...
"What honey?"
"Do I look like him?"
"Who?"
(Loud sigh of exasperation) "Michael Jackson! You know, but not the skin."
"Um, I guess you can dance like him."
"I think I would very like..."
Is he gonna say he wishes he was black? The irony of that will be lost on the masses. Please God, don't let him ask for a Jheri curl.
"I would very like a Michael Jackson t-shirt that I could wear."
I didn't know I was holding my breath until I let go....
Fast forward to 8pm, I am writing Josie's research paper, another long story that just doesn't fit into tonight's schedule. I hear this horrible clonking noise upstairs. I couldn't tell if it was the neighbors or not. I had recently sent Lyra up to go to bed and Charlie to get jays (as in PJ's) on.
Finally, I am concerned enough that I get up to make sure it's not a herd of cattle.
There stands my boy, my husbands namesake, the child that holds so much hope for brain cells in the family; naked as a jay bird walking around in a circle with the heels I wore to church Saturday on his feet. As I'm silently praying that these are not the shoes he was planning on hiding his painted toes in, I say "What on Earth are you doing?"
"I'm tap dancing. Did ya hear me? Was is good? Wanna see?"
"Yes so did the neighborhood! I don't know, how could I? And NOOOOOO!!!"
He clomped down the hall, happy as a clam singing "Beat It."
So I'm wondering...do you think anyone will do a sociological study on the sexual preferences of kids whose same sex parent has been deployed multiple times?
Back to the point, my wonderful, adorable, exasperating child #4. He is hilarious. I say God made him cute so I don't kill him and I do believe there is some truth to that.
Today, I had a ton of work to do on the computer and really needed the kids out of my face. It was a beautiful afternoon and when they complained they had nothing to do outside, I gave the girls the 6 little bottles of nail polish that I forgot to give them for Easter. (That means they got too much stuff in their baskets if you ask me).
The boys were out playing Army man with their bows and arrows. I'd call that Indians, but that's just me. Baby Charlie has been running around the neighborhood with a bunch of older boys playing Army man and he gets annoyed b/c he has to borrow a gun from one of them. It's not that I have anything major against buying him a toy gun, he just hasn't been in need of one til now. And since he was just as happy to run around with his bow and arrow today...I'm thinking I can blow it off for a few more weeks. Sawyer doesn't quite play Army man. At 3, the older boys let him be like the "Innocent Victim" that pops out from behind the furniture in a shoot 'em up video game. They try not to shoot at him when they come running around the corner and he's using his bow to "golf" the wiffle ball around the yard. He is however, great for pointing out the direction the other kids ran. Of course he's a double agent; an equal opportunity snitch.
Back to the girls who are SO excited that I just gave them new nail polish for no reason! I'm such a cool mom...if they only knew. I go back into the living room to finish writing a timeline of one of the kids medical histories. This is long and tedious and frustrating beyond belief. At this point, someone knocks at the door. I am faintly reminded that I saw the doorbell sitting somewhere in the house. (Yet another brain cloud - did you read the last post? If you did then you would know what I'm talking about and not feel left out)
***I would at this point advise any parent to double check that your doorbell is securely fastened to your house. There are few things more annoying than having your children remove the doorbell from the front of the house then proceed to hide behind the tree and ring it every 47 seconds. Think about it, you can't sit there and wait until the brat comes sneaking back to ring it again. They are all falling all over the ground behind the oak tree and you can't see them. They tried sitting in the living room holding the doorbell under their leg, but quickly realized that if there is a child within yelling distance I am NOT getting up to answer the door...now, back to the knock.
It is my good friend's husband. He has come to help me figure out a Geek Squad question that I need to find the answer to b/c Charlie's laptop has a virus...in Iraq. Gotta love those Signal guys! Good Friend's Husband (names have been changed to protect the innocent) is making progress and showing me how to navigate the computer which I think I understand but will not be able to do once he walks out.
Enter child #4, with a big grin on his face. This is trouble and I knew immediately what was going on.
"Look at my toes Momma!"
"They're lovely." I said, "Who painted them?"
"Me! Did I do good?"
I'm wanting to crawl under the desk, b/c as much as Good Friend would've laughed her ass off, men just don't see the humor in this kind of thing. I then reassure Good Friend's Husband that he should be glad that his boy is the oldest. As I write this I realize that I completely forgot Good Friend's Child #4 is a boy and has two older sisters. Oops! (Good Friend is probably reading this and thinking I should be lowered to Acquaintance status)
I return to the discussion at hand. "Can I see your fingers?"
"I didn't do them."
"YES!!!" I shreik in my head. Then I foolish ask "You know why you shouldn't do your fingers right?"
The reply "Because I can hide my toes in my shoes, right?!?"
I'm actually wondering if this is how drag queens start out and what Charlie will think if Baby Charlie puts his toes up to the web cam the next time we Skype. Sawyer came in a few minutes later with a pedi mani and feeling very happy. (These were of course rainbow manicures.)
Good Friend's Husband has turned so pale you could see the thoughts circling his brain. "Must leave now. Must leave NOW!" This is actually good as it replaced "I can't believe this house is such a disaster!"
"Well,Mary,justtellCharliewhatItoldyouandit'llbefineseeyoulater.Bye!"
"Uh, thanks, bye!"
We try to follow Good Friend's Husband out to the porch to bid him farewell but he's gone with the wind. Charlie starts telling me of yet another YouTube video he found of something Micheal Jackson. What I find truly amazing is the amount of random stuff on YouTube. Storm troopers moon walking, MJ vs. Sponge Bob, and my personal favorite; Michal Jackson videos done with Lego's. He's seen them all and made the rest of the family suffer through each and every one. He's borderline obsessed. He told me last week, "I very want a shiny glove Momma. Just one!" He has also asked to walk through the cemetery on post to see if we can find Michael Jackson's grave. "He could be there Momma, he could!"
As he babbles away I am picking up toys from the front yard that a leprechaun must have left there b/c certainly NONE of my children would have left them out. "It's not just that I didn't play with it, I didn't even see that toy today!"
Suddenly, I hear him pause and my brain tries to replay his last statement...uh oh, it was a question. You can tell b/c he's looking at me with that I-just-asked-you-a-question face. Crap...
"What honey?"
"Do I look like him?"
"Who?"
(Loud sigh of exasperation) "Michael Jackson! You know, but not the skin."
"Um, I guess you can dance like him."
"I think I would very like..."
Is he gonna say he wishes he was black? The irony of that will be lost on the masses. Please God, don't let him ask for a Jheri curl.
"I would very like a Michael Jackson t-shirt that I could wear."
I didn't know I was holding my breath until I let go....
Fast forward to 8pm, I am writing Josie's research paper, another long story that just doesn't fit into tonight's schedule. I hear this horrible clonking noise upstairs. I couldn't tell if it was the neighbors or not. I had recently sent Lyra up to go to bed and Charlie to get jays (as in PJ's) on.
Finally, I am concerned enough that I get up to make sure it's not a herd of cattle.
There stands my boy, my husbands namesake, the child that holds so much hope for brain cells in the family; naked as a jay bird walking around in a circle with the heels I wore to church Saturday on his feet. As I'm silently praying that these are not the shoes he was planning on hiding his painted toes in, I say "What on Earth are you doing?"
"I'm tap dancing. Did ya hear me? Was is good? Wanna see?"
"Yes so did the neighborhood! I don't know, how could I? And NOOOOOO!!!"
He clomped down the hall, happy as a clam singing "Beat It."
So I'm wondering...do you think anyone will do a sociological study on the sexual preferences of kids whose same sex parent has been deployed multiple times?
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Lost not Found...
Now I lay me down to sleep...amid the crumbs from the French Toast Sticks Sawyer was eating in my bed this morning. He continues to eat only cold food and actually prefers some things frozen. I'd like to attribute that to his love for me, knowing that taking the time to put said French Toast Sticks in the microwave could easily waste 30 or 40 seconds of my life. However, I'm sure it's better described as one of his "quirks."
Sawyer's "quirks" would fill more than a few pages and at the moment, I don't have that kind of time.
What I wanted to write about is how clueless my other kids are.
Unfortunately, the sheet on which I scribbled several of their answers to my questions is no longer on my nightstand where I put it. I know it was there at one point b/c I put it there. I know I put it there b/c I had to carry it up the stairs to do so. I know I carried it up the stairs b/c we have a lot of stairs and I actually deliberated on doing it right away or waiting until later. I know I did it right away b/c I knew if I waited until later, I would lose it. AND I did not want to lose it!!!
As frustrating as all that is, what's even more annoying is that I have a brain cloud regarding the paper. If you don't know what a brain cloud is, and why would you as I just made it up this minute, here's the best way I can think to describe it: You know when your really hungover and after you've been awake for awhile you get this foggy memory in your brain of something that might have happened the night before? You can feel it and almost see it, but you couldn't really know for sure that it did in fact happen until, with some luck, the fog clears. Of course there are times the fog doesn't clear and you are left with only a few frames in the movie segment of your life that was taped the night before.
If you were with friends, they can, at times, fill in some of the blanks until you can see more of the whole picture. And then there are those times that you were alone, or with people you can't call (for any number of reasons) and ask what happened the night before. I still have a brain cloud about a Simon & Garfunkel song from my senior year of college...but we'll save that for another day.
Anyway, back to the paper that I cannot find. I have this vague recolection that sometime either last night or this morning...it all mixes together...something happened to that paper. I can only say I remember thinking "I don't want to forget to get that paper back." Why would I think that? Why indeed.
I have 5 kids, a deployed husband, and in addition to all the fun that brings, I've had extenuating circumstances. One of which is that my children don't sleep through the night. (Don't even think about going there...it's not what we are talking about.) So I'm exhausted, overworked, underpaid, etc., etc. Last night at 8 pm I gave up. I popped a Tylenol PM and told the kids that if the house catches fire to save themselves.
We did not have to get up early this morning and in fact if I didn't have children annoying the crap out of me, I could've stayed asleep until 8. BUT by 6:30, I had children driving me to the brink of insanity. Sleep is something I don't give up on easily. I have spent many an hour laying in bed trying deprtely to ignore the WWF match going on around and on top of me. (My king size bed is appartently the only adiquate place in this humongous house to host Saturday morning wrestlemania.) I have mastered the technique of opening my eyes just wide enough while grunting that the children think I am conversing with them. This is premature payback for all the conversations I'll be trying to have with them as teenagers. The kids can fight, talk, eat and even perform technical gymnastics manuvors on my bed and i will still stubbornly lay there thinking "if I don't move, maybe they'll go looking for me somewhere else in the house."
So there I was, trying to suck the last few minutes of sleep into my brain. There was some semblance of a conversation with one of the kids, I think it was Lyra. She needed to spell something I think. In an attempt to get her to leave me alone I must've scribbled whatever it was that she needed on "THE" piece of paper. I am fairly certain that in my semi-consious state, I told her I wanted the paper back. And I would bet money that she sweetly replied, "Yes Momma, as soon as I'm done." LIAR!!!
I have now searched the entire humongous house for "THE" piece of paper. I have to make sure I captilize "THE" because if I don't someone may perhaps not realize that I am looking for only ONE particular piece that is of utmost importance to me. The average citizan might be unsure as there are well over 5 million and 36 other papers in this house. That too is fodder for another day. (Wow, I might actually have enough material for a blog!)
So amid the potential habitats for about 629 forest animals, I am looking for ONE paper! Even I know this is a lost cause...
POSTNOTE: I literally fell asleep typing this the other night. (Thank the Lord for automatic draft save!) The next day I asked the suspect child if she did in fact have my paper. "Yes, you wrote our email on it, don't you remember?"
"Oh, you wanted Daddy's email? Did you send him a message?"
"No, I wanted OUR email...and you already asked me that yesterday."
"Whatever. Where's my paper?"
"Still on the desk where I told you it would be."
"Can you please get it and put it by my bed?"
"Yes Momma, as soon as I'm done."
Great! Now she's a habitual liar...I have yet to get "THE" paper back!
Sawyer's "quirks" would fill more than a few pages and at the moment, I don't have that kind of time.
What I wanted to write about is how clueless my other kids are.
Unfortunately, the sheet on which I scribbled several of their answers to my questions is no longer on my nightstand where I put it. I know it was there at one point b/c I put it there. I know I put it there b/c I had to carry it up the stairs to do so. I know I carried it up the stairs b/c we have a lot of stairs and I actually deliberated on doing it right away or waiting until later. I know I did it right away b/c I knew if I waited until later, I would lose it. AND I did not want to lose it!!!
As frustrating as all that is, what's even more annoying is that I have a brain cloud regarding the paper. If you don't know what a brain cloud is, and why would you as I just made it up this minute, here's the best way I can think to describe it: You know when your really hungover and after you've been awake for awhile you get this foggy memory in your brain of something that might have happened the night before? You can feel it and almost see it, but you couldn't really know for sure that it did in fact happen until, with some luck, the fog clears. Of course there are times the fog doesn't clear and you are left with only a few frames in the movie segment of your life that was taped the night before.
If you were with friends, they can, at times, fill in some of the blanks until you can see more of the whole picture. And then there are those times that you were alone, or with people you can't call (for any number of reasons) and ask what happened the night before. I still have a brain cloud about a Simon & Garfunkel song from my senior year of college...but we'll save that for another day.
Anyway, back to the paper that I cannot find. I have this vague recolection that sometime either last night or this morning...it all mixes together...something happened to that paper. I can only say I remember thinking "I don't want to forget to get that paper back." Why would I think that? Why indeed.
I have 5 kids, a deployed husband, and in addition to all the fun that brings, I've had extenuating circumstances. One of which is that my children don't sleep through the night. (Don't even think about going there...it's not what we are talking about.) So I'm exhausted, overworked, underpaid, etc., etc. Last night at 8 pm I gave up. I popped a Tylenol PM and told the kids that if the house catches fire to save themselves.
We did not have to get up early this morning and in fact if I didn't have children annoying the crap out of me, I could've stayed asleep until 8. BUT by 6:30, I had children driving me to the brink of insanity. Sleep is something I don't give up on easily. I have spent many an hour laying in bed trying deprtely to ignore the WWF match going on around and on top of me. (My king size bed is appartently the only adiquate place in this humongous house to host Saturday morning wrestlemania.) I have mastered the technique of opening my eyes just wide enough while grunting that the children think I am conversing with them. This is premature payback for all the conversations I'll be trying to have with them as teenagers. The kids can fight, talk, eat and even perform technical gymnastics manuvors on my bed and i will still stubbornly lay there thinking "if I don't move, maybe they'll go looking for me somewhere else in the house."
So there I was, trying to suck the last few minutes of sleep into my brain. There was some semblance of a conversation with one of the kids, I think it was Lyra. She needed to spell something I think. In an attempt to get her to leave me alone I must've scribbled whatever it was that she needed on "THE" piece of paper. I am fairly certain that in my semi-consious state, I told her I wanted the paper back. And I would bet money that she sweetly replied, "Yes Momma, as soon as I'm done." LIAR!!!
I have now searched the entire humongous house for "THE" piece of paper. I have to make sure I captilize "THE" because if I don't someone may perhaps not realize that I am looking for only ONE particular piece that is of utmost importance to me. The average citizan might be unsure as there are well over 5 million and 36 other papers in this house. That too is fodder for another day. (Wow, I might actually have enough material for a blog!)
So amid the potential habitats for about 629 forest animals, I am looking for ONE paper! Even I know this is a lost cause...
POSTNOTE: I literally fell asleep typing this the other night. (Thank the Lord for automatic draft save!) The next day I asked the suspect child if she did in fact have my paper. "Yes, you wrote our email on it, don't you remember?"
"Oh, you wanted Daddy's email? Did you send him a message?"
"No, I wanted OUR email...and you already asked me that yesterday."
"Whatever. Where's my paper?"
"Still on the desk where I told you it would be."
"Can you please get it and put it by my bed?"
"Yes Momma, as soon as I'm done."
Great! Now she's a habitual liar...I have yet to get "THE" paper back!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Palm Sunday...
Charlie emailed me this morning and told me he missed Mass. He was feeling especially guilty b/c it was Palm Sunday.
My FB post today read:
In an attempt to save my own soul, I have thrown the kids under the bus. I just couldn't face extra long mass with monsters in tow...If anyone sees my kids in Hell, tell them I said Hi! (Oh wait, I'm probably gonna be there anyway)
So then I wrote back to Charlie with the following~
It's okay you missed mass, the kids did too. Here's what happened:
Jesus was the Grand Marshall of his own parade. Everyone was happy and waved palms.
Jesus had dinner with his crew and gave them the 411 on some stuff that was coming up. They thought he was talkin' smack.
Jesus and the gang went to a garden, Jesus prayed and the crew racked out making Jesus kinda ticked off.
Judas showed up with some soldiers. He kissed Jesus and someone chopped an ear off one of the soldiers. Jesus put the ear back on and went with the soldiers.
There was a riot going on at Pontius Pilots' crib and everyone wanted Jesus to be killed even though there was no reason to do so.
Pontius dumped it onto Herod who dumped it back on Pontius and then they had coffee.
(During all this Peter was perpetratin' just like JC said he would)
The crowd was going nuts and decided to ask for the ancient day Charles Manson to be let out of prison so Jesus could be crucified.
Pilot had no balls and let them nail Jesus on the cross.
Jesus and the guy next to him became buds.
Jesus died, all the while telling God to forgive everyone. (Which when you think about it, should have really tipped them off. Would you be telling God to forgive everyone who just treated YOU like crap and were in the process of killing you? Probably not unless you had some kind of 'in' with the Big Guy.)
Once he was gone, people started to realize they blew it.
The good guys (mostly women of course) put him in a tomb and went home for the Sabbath.
...to be continued....
Of course feeling guilty myself, I start quizzing the kids on some Catholicism over dinner.
Mom: What are the two main parts of the mass?
Tali: The Beginning and The End
Mom: Who can say the Hail Mary?
Tali and Josie sing it b/c they apparently are unable to just say it, but they got it right so I let that go.
Lyra: Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Something, something, and something else.
Mom: That's nice. Try again.
Lyra: Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Bless us O Lord and these thy gifts...oh wait, that's the other one. It doesn't matter, I don't want a treat anyway.
Mom: A treat?
Lyra: If we know all our prayers the CCD teacher will give us a candy bar, but I don't care.
Mom: Well, there's this other treat. It's called NOT GOING TO HELL! You may want to work towards that!
Lyra: Maybe.
My FB post today read:
In an attempt to save my own soul, I have thrown the kids under the bus. I just couldn't face extra long mass with monsters in tow...If anyone sees my kids in Hell, tell them I said Hi! (Oh wait, I'm probably gonna be there anyway)
So then I wrote back to Charlie with the following~
It's okay you missed mass, the kids did too. Here's what happened:
Jesus was the Grand Marshall of his own parade. Everyone was happy and waved palms.
Jesus had dinner with his crew and gave them the 411 on some stuff that was coming up. They thought he was talkin' smack.
Jesus and the gang went to a garden, Jesus prayed and the crew racked out making Jesus kinda ticked off.
Judas showed up with some soldiers. He kissed Jesus and someone chopped an ear off one of the soldiers. Jesus put the ear back on and went with the soldiers.
There was a riot going on at Pontius Pilots' crib and everyone wanted Jesus to be killed even though there was no reason to do so.
Pontius dumped it onto Herod who dumped it back on Pontius and then they had coffee.
(During all this Peter was perpetratin' just like JC said he would)
The crowd was going nuts and decided to ask for the ancient day Charles Manson to be let out of prison so Jesus could be crucified.
Pilot had no balls and let them nail Jesus on the cross.
Jesus and the guy next to him became buds.
Jesus died, all the while telling God to forgive everyone. (Which when you think about it, should have really tipped them off. Would you be telling God to forgive everyone who just treated YOU like crap and were in the process of killing you? Probably not unless you had some kind of 'in' with the Big Guy.)
Once he was gone, people started to realize they blew it.
The good guys (mostly women of course) put him in a tomb and went home for the Sabbath.
...to be continued....
Of course feeling guilty myself, I start quizzing the kids on some Catholicism over dinner.
Mom: What are the two main parts of the mass?
Tali: The Beginning and The End
Mom: Who can say the Hail Mary?
Tali and Josie sing it b/c they apparently are unable to just say it, but they got it right so I let that go.
Lyra: Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Something, something, and something else.
Mom: That's nice. Try again.
Lyra: Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Bless us O Lord and these thy gifts...oh wait, that's the other one. It doesn't matter, I don't want a treat anyway.
Mom: A treat?
Lyra: If we know all our prayers the CCD teacher will give us a candy bar, but I don't care.
Mom: Well, there's this other treat. It's called NOT GOING TO HELL! You may want to work towards that!
Lyra: Maybe.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The Carlton Anti Christmas Letter
Now that it's March I figure I should include the Christmas Letter:
I‘d like to introduce myself to those of you who haven’t heard of me yet: My name is Father Fred and I live at 632 Thomas Ave, Ft. Leavenworth, KS. This also happens to be the same house in which the Carlton Family resides. I have lived here slightly longer though, since 1875. They moved in last August. This of course means it is MY HOUSE and I periodically remind them of this. As I move about the place, I catch bits of conversations and tend to read over Mary’s shoulder while she’s on Facebook, so I feel justified in writing the Christmas Letter this year.
The year apparently started off with a bang as Charlie and Mary began to prepare for their move to Latvia. They stocked up on winter clothes for everyone at the after-holiday sales and Mary began tracking her food purchases on a chart so they would know how many boxes of Mac-n-Cheese they would need to survive 3 years in a foreign land.
The family got mentally and materially prepared for this major move to the other side of the world when low and behold, Charlie found out (through a fluke) in February that they had been denied the move back in September. This was great news as Charlie had been taking Latvian for 6 months at that point. What a marketable language that is! Also, Mary had decided to embrace the move as her Lenten Sacrifice and NOW what was she supposed to do????
So plans changed, some items were returned, food lists went in the garbage and Charlie began to look for another job. After possibilities like Charlie going alone for 18 months or deploying for 12, Mary was thrilled to hear that there was a job (in the United States where they speak English) at Ft. Leavenworth for Charlie to be a “Red Team Instructor.”
Mary sponsored 4 acts at the St. Ann Variety Show in the spring. One each for the girls’ classes and one in which the 3 girls & Baby Charlie sang “Brother for Sale” by Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen. I’m guessing they had no buyers as Baby Charlie is still with the family!
Because they were now moving in July and not September, the summer plans were rearranged. The family drove down to Disney right after school let out and spent a VERY, VERY HOT 7 days at Disney World. There was also a VERY, VERY LONG 45 minutes one day when Baby Charlie got lost. They spent one day with Cousin Katie & her daughter Lily there. From what I hear, Lily and Baby Charlie have a loving relationship with a lot of hair pulling and punching involved.
Then, Charlie came to Kansas to find a house and start work, while Mary took the kids to the annual “Last Hurrah” trip to Topsail Beach, NC. Luckily, Cousin Hannah rode with them half way to the beach and Mary had a nanny so she wasn’t on her own. Charlie flew into NC on Friday for a short 36hrs in the sand and they started their cross country trek on Sunday.
The trip itself wasn’t too eventful; unless of course you count the hotel in St. Louis that happened to be across the street from an arena where the Jonas Brothers were playing that night. Oops! Good Daddy that he was, Charlie found a friendly scalper and took the 4 oldest while Sawyer and Mary went to bed early.
(I had a whole paragraph written about the kids getting Swine Flu the day after they arrived in Kansas. It was exciting news back then, but now that everyone and their brother have had H1N1…it landed on the cutting room floor.) Instead, I’ll tell you that Tali (5th), Josie (4th), Lyra (2nd) and Charlie (K) all attend Eisenhower Elementary School. Mary & Baby Charlie took a two-week vacation to VA in September for him to enroll in Kindergarten at St. Ann. This was b/c he didn’t make the cut-off date for Kindergarten in Kansas and Mary was that desperate to get him into school full-time. The school district will transfer a student into Kindergarten if he has gone at least 2 weeks in another state. How cool is that? Plus, Mary got to see all her friends, do lunch, and see how life might be with one child. WOW, I’m sort of surprised she returned to Kansas! Sawyer goes to Bradley Elementary School for Special Ed Preschool and the Child Development Center Preschool to encourage socialization, although “the Sauce” is talking up a storm and enjoys showing us all how smart he is on HIS TERMS!
Once in Leavenworth, the family moved into MY HOUSE. They love it b/c it’s big, I love them b/c they’re Catholic and have LOTS of kids! They don’t bother me too much, but the crying can get a little annoying. I like to let them know I’m around by opening drawers and the dryer doors. I turn out lights and have also been known to change the temperature in the house. The family has smelled smoke in the fireplace even though they are cemented closed, but I have yet to appear in any pictures or “bless” the children by sprinkling water on them as legends say. I’m waiting for them to decorate the tree to see if they notice when I rearrange the ornaments!
Charlie leaves on January 2nd for a 6-month deployment in Iraq. Please don’t worry about Mary and the kids as I’ll be here watching over them… Mwahahahaha!!!!
Merry Christmas~
Father Fred, Charlie, Mary, Tali, Josie, Lyra
Baby Charlie & Saucey
I‘d like to introduce myself to those of you who haven’t heard of me yet: My name is Father Fred and I live at 632 Thomas Ave, Ft. Leavenworth, KS. This also happens to be the same house in which the Carlton Family resides. I have lived here slightly longer though, since 1875. They moved in last August. This of course means it is MY HOUSE and I periodically remind them of this. As I move about the place, I catch bits of conversations and tend to read over Mary’s shoulder while she’s on Facebook, so I feel justified in writing the Christmas Letter this year.
The year apparently started off with a bang as Charlie and Mary began to prepare for their move to Latvia. They stocked up on winter clothes for everyone at the after-holiday sales and Mary began tracking her food purchases on a chart so they would know how many boxes of Mac-n-Cheese they would need to survive 3 years in a foreign land.
The family got mentally and materially prepared for this major move to the other side of the world when low and behold, Charlie found out (through a fluke) in February that they had been denied the move back in September. This was great news as Charlie had been taking Latvian for 6 months at that point. What a marketable language that is! Also, Mary had decided to embrace the move as her Lenten Sacrifice and NOW what was she supposed to do????
So plans changed, some items were returned, food lists went in the garbage and Charlie began to look for another job. After possibilities like Charlie going alone for 18 months or deploying for 12, Mary was thrilled to hear that there was a job (in the United States where they speak English) at Ft. Leavenworth for Charlie to be a “Red Team Instructor.”
Mary sponsored 4 acts at the St. Ann Variety Show in the spring. One each for the girls’ classes and one in which the 3 girls & Baby Charlie sang “Brother for Sale” by Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen. I’m guessing they had no buyers as Baby Charlie is still with the family!
Because they were now moving in July and not September, the summer plans were rearranged. The family drove down to Disney right after school let out and spent a VERY, VERY HOT 7 days at Disney World. There was also a VERY, VERY LONG 45 minutes one day when Baby Charlie got lost. They spent one day with Cousin Katie & her daughter Lily there. From what I hear, Lily and Baby Charlie have a loving relationship with a lot of hair pulling and punching involved.
Then, Charlie came to Kansas to find a house and start work, while Mary took the kids to the annual “Last Hurrah” trip to Topsail Beach, NC. Luckily, Cousin Hannah rode with them half way to the beach and Mary had a nanny so she wasn’t on her own. Charlie flew into NC on Friday for a short 36hrs in the sand and they started their cross country trek on Sunday.
The trip itself wasn’t too eventful; unless of course you count the hotel in St. Louis that happened to be across the street from an arena where the Jonas Brothers were playing that night. Oops! Good Daddy that he was, Charlie found a friendly scalper and took the 4 oldest while Sawyer and Mary went to bed early.
(I had a whole paragraph written about the kids getting Swine Flu the day after they arrived in Kansas. It was exciting news back then, but now that everyone and their brother have had H1N1…it landed on the cutting room floor.) Instead, I’ll tell you that Tali (5th), Josie (4th), Lyra (2nd) and Charlie (K) all attend Eisenhower Elementary School. Mary & Baby Charlie took a two-week vacation to VA in September for him to enroll in Kindergarten at St. Ann. This was b/c he didn’t make the cut-off date for Kindergarten in Kansas and Mary was that desperate to get him into school full-time. The school district will transfer a student into Kindergarten if he has gone at least 2 weeks in another state. How cool is that? Plus, Mary got to see all her friends, do lunch, and see how life might be with one child. WOW, I’m sort of surprised she returned to Kansas! Sawyer goes to Bradley Elementary School for Special Ed Preschool and the Child Development Center Preschool to encourage socialization, although “the Sauce” is talking up a storm and enjoys showing us all how smart he is on HIS TERMS!
Once in Leavenworth, the family moved into MY HOUSE. They love it b/c it’s big, I love them b/c they’re Catholic and have LOTS of kids! They don’t bother me too much, but the crying can get a little annoying. I like to let them know I’m around by opening drawers and the dryer doors. I turn out lights and have also been known to change the temperature in the house. The family has smelled smoke in the fireplace even though they are cemented closed, but I have yet to appear in any pictures or “bless” the children by sprinkling water on them as legends say. I’m waiting for them to decorate the tree to see if they notice when I rearrange the ornaments!
Charlie leaves on January 2nd for a 6-month deployment in Iraq. Please don’t worry about Mary and the kids as I’ll be here watching over them… Mwahahahaha!!!!
Merry Christmas~
Father Fred, Charlie, Mary, Tali, Josie, Lyra
Baby Charlie & Saucey
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Puke-a-pa-looza 2
Author's note: The following is not for the weak of stomach. (Except of course for Charlie, b/c despite his wimpy stomach he must be forced to feel my pain!!!)
This just in: The second annual Carlton Puke-a-pa-looza was held over the last several days. Although last year's event was held in early May with Mary's LASIK surgery starting off the weekend fun, this years' festivities were held in mid-March lining up perfectly with the kids Spring Break! (Having two major events coincide always makes for more fun.)
Sawyer was the opening act. He started off the weekend with a vomit session that would put many a drunk to shame. He threw up so much and so many places that it became a math lesson for Tali to figure out how many rooms in the house he had thrown up in. (1/3 of the rooms on the second floor and 3/4 of the rooms on the first floor)
It seemed as though there may not be a full-fledged festival this year as the waters (and tummies) were calm Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. But Josie was not going to let the opportunity pass us by. She decided to headline the event and started throwing up Monday night. Shortly thereafter, Baby Charlie joined in. Not to be outdone by the children, Mary felt the need to "blow" them both out of the water (no pun intended - Nah...of course it was).
Baby Charlie and Sawyer were to appear at day care Tuesday and Wednesday, but they blew off both gigs to encore at the house. Sawyer outdid himself with a blowout of major proportion Tuesday morning. Who knew there was anything left in that little body to poop up down and sideways...all over his favorite Thomas pajamas? (For those of you who follow Frogs escapades...he luckily avoided hopping into the mosh pit!)
As Josie came to the front of the stage over, and over, and over, and over, Tali couldn't hold back anymore. By Tuesday night she was yakking with the best of them. And her love of dark blue Gatorade showed. So much so that Mary, who thought she had taken her final bow in front of the toilet, came back for more.
And so it went Tuesday night. From 9:30 to midnight, Baby Charlie had the mike, and kept a running commentary on Phinias and Ferb and SpongeBob for anyone who would listen. (He had gone backstage and napped for several hours in the afternoon). He was allowed four sips of water every 8 minutes. After two and 1/2 hours Mary had lost all track of time, sips, and days of summer vacation.
Meanwhile on Stage 2 the schedule went something like this; 10pm: Tali and Josie do a duet, and Mary sings backup. 11pm: Josie goes solo. 12:15: Tali on melody and Mary picks up harmony. 1:30: Josie and Tali sing together again and Mary follows their lead. 2 am: Josie is back on stage with nothing left to give.
Everyone agreed it was time for an intermission so there was a break. Just when it got a little too quiet, Baby Charlie let loose all over Mary's comforter at 4:10. This included the sips of water Mary had so carefully rationed, plus the extras he'd been sneaking while she was wiping up vomit from Tali and Josie. And then there were those Ritz Crackers he'd taken from the kitchen and ate while Mary was doing her own thing. "But I was so hungry!"
The lights went down and the stage fell silent...until at 5am Sawyer was wide awake, feeling better, and ready to conquer the day! He sat up with one of his common battle cries; "I want meatballs!" Mary's response, "Are you freakin' kidding me?" was still echoing in the hallway when he thankfully fell back asleep until 8.
It was somewhere around that time that Josie, although continuing to try to produce during the early morning hours, was forced to put down the mike and sleep. Tali too, racked like a rock star. Mary - having dreams of the health care debate b/c Fox News was on - drifted in and out of consciousness.
Lyra and Sawyer played the day away. Baby Charlie continued to vomit through the afternoon, but b/c God had the forethought (well of course He would) to send Mary's mom out and to allow her to remain unscathed by the storm, Mary was able to sleep until late afternoon when she became vertical for the first time in two days. When asked about the experience, Mary Lee said "I've honestly never seen anything like it." This does not mean she advocates for the continuance of the festival nor does she encourage anyone else to come witness it.
Clean up will begin tomorrow am. It's expected to take days, maybe even weeks for the venue to recover. Mary and her Mom will be paid double her salery (of nothing) to restore order to the event grounds. (Yet one more example of Mary Lee's sainthood)
Update: it is now 2am...everyone is asleep and the house has been vomit free for about 10 hours...what a long, strange trip it's been....
(Tickets for next year's Puke-a-pa-looza will go on sale at Christmas)
This just in: The second annual Carlton Puke-a-pa-looza was held over the last several days. Although last year's event was held in early May with Mary's LASIK surgery starting off the weekend fun, this years' festivities were held in mid-March lining up perfectly with the kids Spring Break! (Having two major events coincide always makes for more fun.)
Sawyer was the opening act. He started off the weekend with a vomit session that would put many a drunk to shame. He threw up so much and so many places that it became a math lesson for Tali to figure out how many rooms in the house he had thrown up in. (1/3 of the rooms on the second floor and 3/4 of the rooms on the first floor)
It seemed as though there may not be a full-fledged festival this year as the waters (and tummies) were calm Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. But Josie was not going to let the opportunity pass us by. She decided to headline the event and started throwing up Monday night. Shortly thereafter, Baby Charlie joined in. Not to be outdone by the children, Mary felt the need to "blow" them both out of the water (no pun intended - Nah...of course it was).
Baby Charlie and Sawyer were to appear at day care Tuesday and Wednesday, but they blew off both gigs to encore at the house. Sawyer outdid himself with a blowout of major proportion Tuesday morning. Who knew there was anything left in that little body to poop up down and sideways...all over his favorite Thomas pajamas? (For those of you who follow Frogs escapades...he luckily avoided hopping into the mosh pit!)
As Josie came to the front of the stage over, and over, and over, and over, Tali couldn't hold back anymore. By Tuesday night she was yakking with the best of them. And her love of dark blue Gatorade showed. So much so that Mary, who thought she had taken her final bow in front of the toilet, came back for more.
And so it went Tuesday night. From 9:30 to midnight, Baby Charlie had the mike, and kept a running commentary on Phinias and Ferb and SpongeBob for anyone who would listen. (He had gone backstage and napped for several hours in the afternoon). He was allowed four sips of water every 8 minutes. After two and 1/2 hours Mary had lost all track of time, sips, and days of summer vacation.
Meanwhile on Stage 2 the schedule went something like this; 10pm: Tali and Josie do a duet, and Mary sings backup. 11pm: Josie goes solo. 12:15: Tali on melody and Mary picks up harmony. 1:30: Josie and Tali sing together again and Mary follows their lead. 2 am: Josie is back on stage with nothing left to give.
Everyone agreed it was time for an intermission so there was a break. Just when it got a little too quiet, Baby Charlie let loose all over Mary's comforter at 4:10. This included the sips of water Mary had so carefully rationed, plus the extras he'd been sneaking while she was wiping up vomit from Tali and Josie. And then there were those Ritz Crackers he'd taken from the kitchen and ate while Mary was doing her own thing. "But I was so hungry!"
The lights went down and the stage fell silent...until at 5am Sawyer was wide awake, feeling better, and ready to conquer the day! He sat up with one of his common battle cries; "I want meatballs!" Mary's response, "Are you freakin' kidding me?" was still echoing in the hallway when he thankfully fell back asleep until 8.
It was somewhere around that time that Josie, although continuing to try to produce during the early morning hours, was forced to put down the mike and sleep. Tali too, racked like a rock star. Mary - having dreams of the health care debate b/c Fox News was on - drifted in and out of consciousness.
Lyra and Sawyer played the day away. Baby Charlie continued to vomit through the afternoon, but b/c God had the forethought (well of course He would) to send Mary's mom out and to allow her to remain unscathed by the storm, Mary was able to sleep until late afternoon when she became vertical for the first time in two days. When asked about the experience, Mary Lee said "I've honestly never seen anything like it." This does not mean she advocates for the continuance of the festival nor does she encourage anyone else to come witness it.
Clean up will begin tomorrow am. It's expected to take days, maybe even weeks for the venue to recover. Mary and her Mom will be paid double her salery (of nothing) to restore order to the event grounds. (Yet one more example of Mary Lee's sainthood)
Update: it is now 2am...everyone is asleep and the house has been vomit free for about 10 hours...what a long, strange trip it's been....
(Tickets for next year's Puke-a-pa-looza will go on sale at Christmas)
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