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!

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!

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.

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?

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!