You Can Write A Lot About Nothing

Warning: The following post has absolutely no content anyone would find interesting.

All aspirations I had of ever appearing to have any class... gone.

I realized this as I was making my way through the kitchen, having been summoned by one child that was sitting on a toilet.

I grabbed a carrot stick as I passed the kitchen countertop and popped it into my mouth...
on the way to go wipe a stinky, little bottom.
Chewing food while wiping poo. Crunching on crisp, healthy carrots in a putrid green fog.
Out goes all of my lectures about good hand-washing habits when they see a carrot poking out of my mouth in the bathroom.

(I'm just a micro moment away from having books, magazines and a small refrigerator in there)

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You know that 365 challenge? One of the things that Chris advised was not to be hard on yourself for missing a day.

How about a week? I'm an over-under achiever.

I seriously have not even lifted my camera (except to photograph clothing of Miss Ky's being listed on an online sale site-- not very artistic).
I did take over 277 pictures at one footie game, does that count for anything?

I am NOT quitting, but my challenge will be more like the 358 Photo Challenge. AND yes, I had to use a calculator for that.

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The computer transfer is complete.

I don't handle change well.
I don't like running into the computer room to quickly print an urgent church report only to find that the printer was one of the things overlooked in the set up.
I also don't like that my iPhone seems to think I am trying to give it bad information from another iTunes and wants me to sync (remember how the hubby suggested I sync two weeks ago and I lost EVERYTHING?) (also remember how I mentioned that not all of my music transferred? They're still on the phone, but not in my computer library).

The photos-- perfect. AND I've managed to load all 900 photos from our Disney World trip to an online storage place. Now if something terrible happens, 900 of 29,884 photos will be safe.


What?

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I have taken Mental P Mama's advice and have a holiday-for-one booked. My UK bloggy friends interested in meeting up in March should contact me...

Actually, the Hubby booked it for me, I'm going searching for Mr. Darcy...

U.S. bloggy friends interested in meeting in one very hot, muggy state where a certain larger-than-life mouse resides-- during hurricane season-- should also contact me.



*crickets*

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Did you know Bugs Bunny was allergic to carrots? (more specifically, Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bunny was allergic to my toilet snack of choice).

Go on, share with me your disgusting highlights of the week...

Suckered

Do I have "Fool" written on my forehead?

Last night ended badly. After a crazily over-booked day (nothing new, I seem to be doing this regularly-- but it's really bad to schedule yourself to feed two young missionaries on the same day you've accepted a dinner invitation, have a play date booked for one child and a football match for another), the hubby decided it was in the best interest of everyone that he mess with my computer.

He discovered at 11pm when I was incoherently babbling about not getting a break from the kids (more specifically a certain head-strong toddler) in 7 straight days, that he may have made a bad choice.

Do NOT feel sorry for the man. I stayed home from watching Simon Lappin Norwich City play so that one kid could attend a birthday party. Three joyful hours of blaring disco music and sugar-high children-- in the company of Miss Ky, the Talk-a-tron.

So, last night, in my already fragile state, the toddler decides that bed is just not the place for her and because she's exhibiting signs of impending illness, I let her get away with it...
until 3am or so when I crack and can't take anymore of her whinging.

(I'm a much more empathetic mother when I'm rested, honestly).

At 7am when the 11 year-old complains of killer headache, I basically let him know that he would suck it up and go to school. I gave him Motrin and a banana to go with his breakfast, because I'm kind like that and at 8.03 we barely make the bus stop.

At 8.20 am, middle child is declaring he has no school trousers. I insist he does and send him back upstairs. This argument continues until 8.30, leaving me no time to shower myself.

Laundry is done and mostly put away, so I look elsewhere for missing trousers.
I start with the small space under their bunk beds that is not taken up by drawers and discover not only enough lint to recover a bald cat, but that smallest boy has been declaring his love for Norwich City Football all over the wood of his bed. In pen.

In the meantime, toddler is going full speed ahead with her whinging process despite only a couple of hours of sleep. She is riding her bike through the house complaining that her eyes hurt (allergies).

Sometime after I've loudly stated that I quit and I am officially turning in my resignation as mother of these children, middle son is miraculously wearing trousers. Buoyed by this new turn of events, I try to plunge ahead, knowing that the bus has been missed, but that we still have time to get there in the car-- with me un-showered. Not great, but workable.

That is the time that middle child decides he needs to find a hat for "Hats for Haiti" day.

He's known all weekend he needed a hat, but chooses this time to look for one. The kid is his Dad's child 100%. He stands there and wills a hat to come find him. Amazing.

Those 2 children were late for school and don't you know that when all other mothers (and dad's) are back home drinking their coffee or off to their busy jobs, there has to be someone who knows me there at the school gate to greet me in my bed-headed glory?

Toddler falls asleep on the way home and the evil me wants to shake her and shout, "Don't you dare sleep!"... I'm not confessing whether or not I gave in to that urge.

We are home for precisely one hour and thirty-three minutes when the phone rings and the nice lady on the other end politely tells me that the child who now needs to come home because of the terrible headache, "said he had this headache before school...". Point taken woman, but I've had a headache for the last 22 years and no one has ever sent me off the pitch.

And now,

whinger toddler and child suffering a brain hemorrhage are laughing it up and eating Jalepeno Cheez-Its while watching Ice Age.

I've yet to take a shower.

Do I have "Fool" tattooed on my forehead?

I've Run Out of Scheduled Posts...

I've run out of scheduled posts...
and the computer switch isn't entirely complete. We're currently experiencing a mail mess because Gmail is determined to load as an IMAP instead of a pop account. All of my previous purging was for naught since my 17,000 emails on gmail's site decided to load.

Because of that, you're stuck with rambling...thanks for your patience, something I have none of so I admire greatly in others.

I have a little news regarding Son Number One.

Remember how I told you he was back in touch with the girl that devastated him? I was getting calls about how she was texting him and bumping into him frequently at work. She started going around his apartment and I considered buying tranquilizers by the case-load to keep myself from going bonkers with anxiety.

Well, she didn't let this Momma down. She did exactly what I warned him a drama addict would do by baiting him, hooking him and then letting him know she was going to give her relationship with someone else another go.

He was fed up and determined to get out of Dodge-- even though it meant leaving a good job with people who appreciate him.

He couldn't understand how I could predict her every move.
I never told him that she was me about 30 years ago. I was hooked to the roller coaster of off and on relationships-- the break up and the makeup was my crack. I thought that's what everyone did.
This addict is recovered now, but there's still a little crazy inside. I'm not above turning a man into a puppet if I need to, even if that man is my son.

Keep your lectures, my shame is shadowed by my success.

I just did the most manipulative thing I have ever pulled in my life on my poor boy.

His ex-girlfriend has remained his friend this whole time. She has put up with more cr@p than anyone should. I guess she is to Son #1 what he was to the Drama Queen, always right there whenever needed.

I heralded that.

It wasn't difficult to expound on all of C's attributes.

I reminded him how she was always welcome here and loved by the grandparents.

He was putty in my hands.

Last night on a Skype call, she was waving to me from the background. She's helping him move back to Nevada.

I'm a satisfied Momma.

Indoctrination

When did it happen?


When we flew over here in 2006, me heavily pregnant surrounded by 3 boisterous boys and one mercurial teenager, there was a strange ritual going on around us in the airport.
Hoards of people stood frozen in previously bustling pedestrian traffic areas with their faces all turned zombie-like towards large screens placed throughout the terminal.

It was frustrating.

They were completely unaware of anything happening around them and stood firm like blocks of concrete for us to maneuver around.

Weirdos. freaks.

The scary thing was that whatever was possessing them seemed contagious, as perfectly normal-looking people would come to a complete stop, luggage and all, to stand with the masses.

That was July 1st. On the 10th of July, something happened that spread like wildfire through every pub, store and news program. We watched it over and over on every channel... a violent act performed that held our gazes like a horrific accident on a freeway.

My rocket-building, computer-nerdy husband caught it. He bought some tickets to attend one of their gatherings and it all went south from there.
There were more tickets, radio subscriptions to keep up with live updates, clothing with advertisements (to draw more unsuspecting souls) and special events held to include children. Children!

I let it happen. I did it because I had a new baby in the house and quite honestly was willing to pay just about any price for some quiet Saturday afternoons.

Only, Sexy Guy wasn't satisfied just indoctrinating the boys. He began taking my innocent little daughter. He called it "you time", a "time to scrapbook". I didn't see the signs then, despite it being so clear now.

He bought into their membership. Hundreds of pounds of our funds went in to supporting this "cult".

2009 he deployed to Iraq. He worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with updates and news of his "second family" (yeah, going into war-- this is what he worried about). He worried about his membership and the kids' membership fees going to waste,
so I BLINDLY stepped into his shoes.

When did it happen?

It seemed so innocent, a game here, a game there and now I am one of those freaks that will turn down dinner invitations, birthday parties, baby showers etc... if they're scheduled during a home match.
I wear their garish colours-- even though I'm a winter and bright green and yellow do not become me.

The first clue that I had a problem was last weekend, when leaving an away game with soaking wet hat and gloves and completely numb toes, beaming ridiculously as I stated, "This was the best day ever!"

Why would a woman who has given birth to five healthy children declare an away match as "the best day ever?"

• It had something to do with being within a few feet of him... (their stadium doesn't hold 26,000 like ours and they let us stand right next to the pitch--camera welcomed!)

• A little more to do with the fact that we annihilated the team that made a laughing stock of us in the Autumn (which resulted in the sacking--firing-- of our then manager and a goal keeper that has never seen the pitch since). "Eeee I Eeee I Eeee I Oh, Up the football League we go. When we win the title, this is what we'll sing: 'We are Norwich, Super Norwich, Lambert is our king!'"

• It could've been the excitement of watching one of the opposing team supporters jump a fence and cross the pitch to get at us and our 1900+ supporters-- only to be forcefully taken down, face first in the mud by the police (po-po shut him down).

• Or it might've been because as we were leaving the flooded car park, we came upon him (dreamy guy) and another player.

We offered Simon a lift across the car park,
even though there was no room in the car.

For a split second (or forty),
I was willing to put the kids out.


Yes,

this June/July I will be one of those zombie-like creatures with eyes glued to a screen. I doubt I'll see another Zinedine Zidane-type moment and I know I won't see Simon Lappin running his hairy, Scottish legs on the pitch, but it doesn't matter.

I've been brainwashed.

They Never Saw it Coming

At dinner

I asked each boy to pick his two favourite friends. Each kid willingly named two, except for the six-year old, who named four.

I told them to hold the image of those friends in their minds.

Then I picked out a really terrific event that each son could image he was going to-- with his two best friends.
One child was going to see a really awesome movie he's been talking about,
one was going to be a mascot-for-a-day for our favourite footy team and
the youngest boy was going to a fun zone area (with his four friends).

Me: "Now imagine I'm driving you and your two very favourite friends to that special event and Friend One says to Friend Two, 'You're really stupid'. Friend Two says, 'I am not stupid and you stink'. Friend One says, 'You always cry about everything' and crying friend replies, 'I hate you!'".

J2 says, "Oh... like me and A1".

Me: "Yes, like you and A1. Every day I can't wait for my three best friends to come home from their day at school.
I make sure I've finished all of my errands and all of my chores so that I can be standing up at the bus stops eagerly waiting to see your faces."

"I cheer when there's a snow day, I love school holidays, I LIKE being with you, but my best friends-- the people I love most in the world come home and call each other names and antagonize each other to anger or tears".

Very somber faces.

Poor kids, only a few minutes before they thought I was getting ready to let them take friends on some really cool outing.

At least I know I got my point across.





Still in computer switch-over mode , so no 365 this week, but I will happily bore you with photos next Thursday! (my itunes is only missing some parts to some albums and we haven't touched the photos yet-- fingers crossed).
I do want to clarify: Never at any time have I ever been unhappy with my Mac baby. We've been loyal mac owners since they were called apples and took up an entire desk. This switch is to improve space and speed for my continuing education-- you know, just in case you're considering a Mac and think I've had any problems with mine.