Neglect

I know the last few months I've neglected my blog as well as the blogs of all of you I adore. I apologize. It's not intentional, believe me. My self imposed internet hiatus is due in large part to necessity.

Annabel continues to be a huge problem. As much as I adore my baby girl I am still scraping by on 4 hours of sleep a night max (I get an additional 3-4 on Saturdays and Sundays when Jimbo allows me to sleep in, bless that man). So each new day I'm dragging even worse than the one before.

Logan has reverted to his "stimulus" behaviors. This means he'll be totally normal one minute and thrashing his head and arms around the next. This is a huge concern. Right now he's academically ready for kindergarten but if he disrupts the classroom...it will cause problems. So we're working on that.

Vincent absolutely refuses to potty train. It's a nightmare and I'm so tired of cleaning doodie that could belong to an adult. So we're still trying to get that going.

And Arwen. She's been pretty good recently. Making A's on her tests, reading like a fiend (she's amazing, reading level 3 readers) and being good natured. Then the pesky critters from her school arrived and she's been in a funk. She doesn't understand why she can't hang all over the baby or her brothers. It's pretty sad to be truthful.

So to everyone - I Miss You! I've been catching up on all your old entries and when the kids settle I'll be sending out some emails (you know who you all are!)

Daughter Humor

As she's being nit-picked (pun intended) and I'm grossing myself out combing through her hair (I'm a serious bugphobe) Arwen turns to me and says:

They were just having a party inside my head and then you showed up and ruined it!

I laughed so hard I tripped over her chair and nearly busted my hiney. So there is something to be learned from this - always find the humor in something, it makes surviving it so much easier.

P.S. I won't go into how she thinks the bugs are "cute" - WTF?

Had to happen sooner or later...

Last week I noticed what I assumed was heat rash on Arwen's neck. As any of you that have read my blog know, she has ezcema and has break outs from time to time. No big deal, I put hydrocortisone on it and figured it would get better. This morning I got out the cream before she went to school and she started scratching her head, complaining it "itched". Do you see where I'm going with this??

So I put down the cream, started looking around in her hair and I saw what my dumb ass thought was fleas. We had the rabbit inside last night and I thought, it's just from the pet. Then I found another...and another... I called my Mom in panic, having zero clue what the nastiness was. A quick google search later confirmed what she thought. Our household has it's first case of Lice.

I'm trying the new Cetaphil treatment that's supposed to work wonders. I've yanked off the sheets and pillows and have bagged the stuffed animals. But here is what pisses me off. Being the concerned parent I am, I contacted her school. That is the right thing to do isn't it? Warn the other children and their parents that lice may have found it's way around the school. Well, it seems they "don't contact parents or do lice checks" anymore. They only check a child if a teacher has a concern and then they send him/her home.

If I get rid of this shit and she comes down with another case of it I'm going to personally go down there and shake her scalp out on the Principal.

*thus far the other kids have checked clean but bless them, I'm doing the cetaphil treatment on them too to be safe.

Cheap

It seems my potty mouth isn't the only thing my children are picking up from me. They are also implementing my nifty little slang terms too.

Today Arwen was playing her video game and she got killed at random and I heard her yell:

"Well that was cheap!"

I say that all the time. Now my daughter does. The world is in so much trouble when my children reach maturity. I'm apologize in advance.

Selective Helping

I've decided to run away from my heathen children for a few minutes to blog about a phenomenon I've discovered and labeled personally. It's something that wasn't around in my childhood, back when a "no" answer would mean subjection to objects such as switches or belts. This new state of mind occurs when you ask your child to perform some menial task and depending on:

A. Their mood
B. Their mood
C. Their mood

They may or may not respect that request.

Example.

Today as I was cleaning the sink I asked my oldest daughter to go downstairs to keep an eye on her brothers and baby sister. I notice she doesn't respond immediately so I repeat the request, gazing up and noting she is no longer in the room. Instead she has chosen to retreat outside to feed her rabbit, thus doing something else that is fun versus productive.

Selective helping, my children suffer from it. Do yours?

It's called a CARSEAT

I'm about to pull out my soapbox and technically, I am a hypocrite for doing it but I think you'll forgive me when I explain. Without further ado...

After I dropped Vincent off at school today I made a quick trip to the Piggly Wiggly (yes we have one and yes I know - it's flaming redneck as hell) for a loaf of bread. I pull into the parking lot and park the van, reaching for my keys when I see it.

A man driving a small mazda four door of some kind cuts across the parking lot in an angle to pull along side me and in his lap is a very small toddler, I'm talking 18-24 months old. He throws the mazda in park and climbs out, toddler in his arms and walks inside. I shake my head at him (of course he doesn't see) and I go in and grab a loaf of bread.

While I'm waiting in the line the man comes behind me with the little boy, cuddling him and speaking softly to him. So either he loves the child or he's putting on a show. I take my time when I walk out the doors and strap Annabel in, walking around just as they exit the store. I glance over in the back of the mazda and a car seat sits empty. I wait to see what will happen.

The man comes around and opens the door and slides into the drivers seat, child once again in his lap. He slams the door shut and adjust himself and turns on the motor, ready to take a trip down the interstate with an infant on his lap.

What the fuck???

Now I realize we live in the country and I myself have allowed my children to take the wheel in my lap while on our road which is a cul de sac in the middle of nowhere. But I would never allow them to sit in my lap while driving roads where there is traffic.

I should have called the cops on the guy, I really should have. If I see an accident occurred on the news tonight and a child was killed because he was in his parents lap instead of his car seat I'll never forgive myself.

Dear Jimbo~

My Dear Sweet Husband~

When our 14 month old is hacking, possibly choking and you're wondering whether or not she needs assistance, a word of advice...

She is only 14 months old and if she is choking asking her "Are you ok sweetheart?" isn't likely to illicit a response.

Next time try actually walking over to access the situation, it could mean the difference between laughing or shouting "oh shit".

Much Love Sweets,

Your Wife

The Art of Cursing

Five years ago, my mouth was sparkly clean. Rarely would the f-bomb be uttered from these lips, only a random "damn" or "shit" in sight. Then something monumental occurred, a life changing experience that is supposed to make you want to keep things G-rated.

I had kids.

It started out small. A little "damn" when I dropped something or a little "shit" when I stuck my finger in...well shit. But eventually the small pleasure I derived from these phrases lost it's charm and another word worked itself into my potty mouth vocabulary. A word I always hated and made me cringe. A word that would have gotten me a slap to the mouth as a teen. I'm talking about the word, the big word, the F word.

The f-bomb is a frequent flier in my house. I'll drop it without thinking; when I drop a plate and smash it, when I stub my toe or when I step onto a hot wheels car (those miniature objects of metal and sharpness are the bane of my existence). But I realized the other day it's taken another direction. I also use the F word when I need to release built up stress from hours alone with diapers, Thomas the train, and laundry.

Sometimes when my day is shit and I'm ready to explode and the kids are screaming and fighting and I just want to blow, I just let it fly - Fuck! And then something inside me says, "ahhhhh" and I can return to my folding, chasing and wrangling - at peace once again.

So if the future generation that comes to you courtesy of my home have the mouth of a sailor, please forgive me, at least they won't be bullies, liars or thieves. Sometimes you have to strive for the obtainable. We're going to make Ozzy's family look like the Cosby's.