Thievin' Thursday

I'm too busy watching American Idol to actually come up with a thought-provoking post (cough...must be watching AI all the time then, you think?), so I am thief-ing an email I sent to the Sexy Guy while he was deployed (wow, my g-rating--see the bottom of the page-- must really be plummeting with THAT word).
This email was sent to him as he waited for word on whether or not he was moving. I had started the morning with : "Dad's on the move!" and ended up saying, "Never mind, Dad's in the Hurry-up-and-wait stage".


5 Sept: It's just a really long story (and it wouldn't be very entertaining if I shortened it). Shoot, you have no where to be, so I'll try and see if Ky will let me get through this.

So, I decided to BBQ. It'd be fun, I could BBQ while the boys played in the yard-- so I decided to move the grill to the front garden--via that long hallway. Well, I asked A2 to open the door for me and I tipped up the thing and started wheeling it---I was walking backwards. Well, long ago, I took the mesh fencing off the big pond and put it over the little one, thinking Ky was more likely to fall in that one. So as I backed up, A1 failed to warn me that I was about to hit anything (He didn't notice) and the spiky bits ripped into my leg (luckily I had jeans on and it tore a hole in them and just scratched me) and I went down on my hand-- hard. It's bruised today-- didn't know hands could bruise. I stood up, took account of my jeans (whatta drag) and began again. Well A2 then decides to help by moving the fencing in a way that Ky will not only drown, but she'll get skewered along the way-- so, when he leaves, I decide to rearrange the fence and gouge the top of my foot-- it starts to bleed, so I went in to disinfect it (how long ago did I have a tetanus shot?) while the baby cries and the boys are all put out about watching her.

Back to the BBQ.
I put the charcoal in, knowing I was really wasting my time since the top had blown off the grill during the storm and everything (entire bag of charcoal) had gotten damp. I struggled to get it going while J2 paced around me upset that he has to hold Ky. I scoop all the coals out and start with a fresh bag. It lights right up, so I proceeded to shuck the corn to get it ready. I have already snapped at the boys for huffing about watching the baby-- J2 said, "Well you said you'd BBQ while we jumped on the trampoline, but we can't do that if we have to watch her!" So I told him, "Fine-- I just won't BBQ, I can't do it all".
Well, he now has her in the grass. I asked A2 to please set up the table with all of the condiments, but as I open the fridge....

Another story:
Ky loves baby meat sticks-- isn't that funny? I never gave the other kids any, but she loves them, so I buy them. Well, let me correct that.... she loves the first three of the bottle and eats them like a wild animal, but the rest, she tears apart and throws all over the floor, so... I refrigerate the remainder......


When I went to pull out something, that danged baby meat stick bottle fell out and in my attempt to catch it, I batted it across the kitchen floor. I watched it bounce (whew, no break) (but the lid did come off), bounce (yikes, still no break though), bounce bounce bounce-- all the while splashing meat juice up the cabinets, chair and table legs.

SO, I tell A1 to leave the kitchen and I begin cleaning. I have the meat on the grill, so I am beginning to panic a little. I also have on my mind: There's laundry that's hung all day that needs to come in before it rains, and clothes in the washer that may sour if I don't get them out soon, there's a plastic chair blocking my pathway in and out the door and, is the corn burning out there on the coals?
.... and then A1 says "Ky made a poo!" and they all start "eeeeewing" (which makes me wonder if it's oozing).
I change Ky, set her in her high chair and throw snacks at her so she can eat while she screams at me, flip the burgers (they're ok) and turn the corn. I rush back in to start the broccoli and begin taking things to the table.

Anyway, in the chaos, A1 went to his room and played a video game, A2 started pestering me to eat, and J2 was sprawled on the couch watching tv while Ky yelled at me.

It was enough. I'm tired and can't tell you the last time I sat and played a video game or watched the tellie un-interrupted. I told them, "That's it!" and packed up the burgers & bell peppers, put the uncooked hotdogs back in the fridge along with the corn and broccoli and then I sat down on the couch and watched "Everybody Loves Raymond".

They ate cereal.

I bet next time I go to do something they want, they'll be a little more considerate...

yeah, you're right, probably not.

Wordless Wednesday-- My man in a t-38 --SEXY

I'm Prejudiced?!

It has been brought to my attention (which usually requires a brick up side of the head) that I may be showing a bias on my blog. A gender prejudice!

There seems to be more Miss Ky photos than of the rest of the clan.
But...

I have a perfectly reasonable excuse.




I am still primarily in charge of dressing child #5 (although I have to race my husband to it, since he's really enjoying having a little girl) and have NO INFLUENCE whatsoever with the others.



So, you can look at pictures like these:


























Or these: Camo and stripes go together, right?



What ARE you guys doing?







And that's even if they have clothes on. I have more photos of this guy in his underpants (and without) than I have of Miss Ky....





Otherwise, he's a pretty sharp dresser.




Maybe I should have a poll.....

Today's your Birthday...

----beeep----
(real high-pitched, sing-song voice)
"Hiya!
J the Grockle? I'm calling to RSVP for A1's birthday sleepover. Obnoxious Hyperactive Son would love to come, and I am so thrilled you invited him--especially after that little incident last year at the farm when he nearly bit his tongue off and you had to sit with him as he choked in his own blood (instead of seeing your precious little boy pet the farm animals). Oh, and don't worry about the incident at H's party, Obnoxious seems to be getting a little more coordinated, so I highly doubt that he will trip and crack his head at your party. One last thing though, he is having issues with bedwetting. It seems to be only happening when he drinks anytime after noon and especially with fizzy drinks. Could you please limit his drinking without the other kids knowing--I don't want him to get embarrassed. Thank you for inviting him. He loves A1-- probably because A1 is just about the kindest child anyone could ever meet.
(real high pitch here-- the voice goes waaaay up on good byes--even the men do it) Biyeee!"
----beeeeeeeep---------

This post style was brought to you (by the ingenious Painted Maypole) in the style of an answering machine message. Check out her Blog for more great Monday posts ideas.

And Happy Birthday, to my "Sweet, sweet Petunia" (a silly name we gave him as a wee guy-- it's from Veggie Tales). The boy who always runs back to give Mum an extra hug. The boy who loves his sister dearly. The boy who slipped in shyly as I was weeding my way through the nightmare face-lift on the ol' Mac, to ask if I was the one who picked out the craft gift for him. "I really like doing crafts and coloring and stuff", he said in his soft voice with his dimpled grin.

This blog's disclaimer: Obnoxious child really isn't obnoxious, but how funny would this message be if I said "Perfectly Friendly, although accident-proned Son loved by A1"?

Mothering Sunday or, The Plague is Coming!

Happy Mum's Day to you celebrating it. Mothering Sunday is held in March, usually preceded by a Saturday where Tesco's are bursting at the seams with frazzled men and their children. I was foolish enough to go in for scones yesterday and dang near didn't live to see my breakfast in bed this morning.

The first March we were here to experience the bombardment of adverts for the upcoming day, we were the very tired parents of a non-sleeping five-month old. I dashed about madly to get cards for our three mothers and spent hours contemplating the best British-type gift for the cherished women in our lives. Reflecting back, I remember thinking, "Has this holiday always been in March? I could've sworn it was in May." The Hubby never corrected me, but looked as bewildered as I was.
Imagine our surprise when we finally figured it all out-- and I was two months early for "our" holiday (I think I still mailed them late though).

This year, I'm better rested. I know now that I should buy my Mums cards on Monday (they'll disappear quick, these people don't mess around in changing holidays) to mail to the U.S in May.

This year I received breakfast in bed (oops, it was Fast Sunday),
and some of the most beautiful cards ever made (in my opinion). Mother's Day is getting better.



I used to dread Mother's Day like the plague and I'll tell you why (gee, must you?).

Every Mother's Day falls on Sunday-- strange coincidence, I know.
As a family, we strive to keep the Sabbath day holy-- pretty much like Biblical times, meaning: we don't work and don't want to be the cause of somebody else working.

All Mother's Day Brunches are on Sunday.

While happy Mother's all over the United States are washing crab legs down with champagne, I am bathing four very different kinds of stinky little critters that want to give me grief on everything from the clothes I've laid out to who each critter has to bathe with.

I've showered (before the dawn of time), fixed my hair hastily and dressed in the clothes I should've thrown out on my 5th wedding anniversary, but by the time the little beasts are fed, bathed and dressed, I look like I've been in a fight with a wet dog.

I do all of this while my husband attends church meetings. He then arrives (looking pretty scrumptious in his pressed, puke-free suit), five minutes before the meeting is to begin so that we can jointly tie--I mean safely hook--each wriggly, angry mini-monster into their car seat...while the teenager exudes attitude. ('nuff said)
We then begin the 2 1/2 hour drive to church.
Alright, I might be exaggerating on the time taken to commute to a building a few blocks away, but when children are screaming in your ear, time seems to go more slowly-- like "I think I remember that last ice age" slowly.

Next, I sit in a church meeting listening to MAN after MAN speak about how wonderful his mother was.
You know her.
She was the lady that NEVER raised her voice at the children, always had a clean, warm home and delicious meals on the table that said MAN would never have dreamt of saying, "I don't like that! Can't we just have chicken nuggets like billy's family?".

I am shrinking further and further into my wrinkled, Mork & Mindy-style cowl-necked sweater (or did I buy it during the Three's Company run?) wishing for the roof to collapse.

Can it get worse? Of course it can!

The children are dragged up front to sing about their Moms, "Mother, I love you, Mother, I dooo--hoooo", all smiling lovingly at their perfectly pressed mothers. But mine....

My children have memories like elephants. They remember that I made them eat their greens the night before. They remember that I shouted at them before breakfast when they dropped a baseball on the baby's head...and when they dumped the bath water all over the floor while playing "sinking ship", and when we were getting in the car and again when they darted out of the car into a busy parking lot.
Yep, there is love just oozing from their smiles..NOT.
They look like someone pinched them. They're NOT singing, they are just looking terribly uncomfortable.
My scowling kids are given flowers to hand out to the mothers in the congregation. Luckily they don't try to pretend I'm not there-- in fact, now that they're waltzing through the aisles with flowers, they are each quite happy. One gives me some. Now I get to take home a beautiful reminder of Spring, WHO's LIFE WAS CRUELLY CUT SHORT TO COMMEMORATE THIS BLOODY, HAPPY HOLIDAY.

Um,
sorry about that.

That was past Mother's Day. Present Mothers Day is Mothering Sunday in the U.K.
For some reason, it just works better here.
The Hubby, who was scheduled to work, got a call before we left for church saying his shift was cancelled. He looked scrumptious in his pressed, puke-free suit-- but even better, he had bathed the kids while I dressed in something purchased in this decade.
My kids honored me. They sang. J2 even participated in a duet.. with a smile... directed at me! I came home with a potted flower, picked out of the box by the child that knew I liked purple.

I am feeling so fuzzy that I want to share this day with you, regardless of what month you observe it. Since I can't mail you a Mum's Day card, I am sending you flowers. Daffodils from my front garden. I even knocked the bugs off... you're welcome, and have a great Sunday!!