Halloween and I have an eight year love/hate relationship. On the whole, he is totally inconsiderate and obtrusive. He barges in, right as I'm enjoying the beauty of Fall, and sugars up my kids like there's no tomorrow. He forces me to either spend a fortune on cheaply made costumes that rip after ten minutes of wear, or attempt to assemble seven of my own. I am no Martha Stewart, and creativity continually manages to elude me, forcing my poor children to suffer. They usually end up walking the streets looking like a cross between a super hero/zombie/tiger, or swimming in a hand me down costume that is three sizes too big. I am costume designingly challenged, and yes, I'm aware that "designingly" is not a word.
To make matters worse, Halloween shoves his monetarily inflated pumpkins in my face, and makes me feel guilty if I do not buy them. Then, when I give in to paying eighty dollars (because everyone has to have their own,) he gives my children the idea to use knives to poke holes in them. Who the hell came up with the idea of encouraging children to wield knives and stab at almost impenetrable, overgrown squash? It was obviously not a parent! So I am left to referee seven armed children who insist on doing the carving themselves. Then after five minutes of butchering the orange orb, the kids start crying because they cannot make it look like a skeleton. So mommy has to come to the rescue and try to carve up the back side so it somewhat resembles a bony face. Again, I'm not Martha Stewart, people! Meanwhile, the other kids all get bored while waiting for their turn, and decide to use the pumpkin innards to start a flinging contest. Have any of you ever tried to scrape dried pumpkin off of a vaulted ceiling? Not an easy feat.
Then, the bastard invites my children to wander the streets, way after their bed time. They neglect homework and barely eat a nibble of my carefully prepared nutritious dinner, in order to get down to business. They need at least a good two hours to load up on cavities...I mean candy.
But it doesn't end there. Upon returning home, Halloween allows them to eat a crap load of candy, inducing stomach aches and sugar highs that are very comparable to being on methamphetamine. When they finally turn five shades of green and puke, they retire to bed, still in their costumes, leaving a mountain of candy wrappers all over my living room, for me to clean up. I find half eaten suckers, weeks after he is gone.
Halloween is, by far, the worst holiday ever invented. It is a huge capitalistic ploy by candy companies to, once again, take advantage of innocent consumers. I say, we bill Willy Wonka for our resulting dentist visits! There is one small redeeming factor about Halloween that allows for my undying love, despite all of his negative qualities...leftovers. I am a self professed candy freak. I'm a huge junk food addict, and the spoils of trick or treating are always enough to make me want to endure the annual suffering. My kids do not really care for chocolate, so it is discarded, carelessly on the floor in favor of the sour stuff. Which honestly, puts a smile on my lips because they do not even protest when I scoop it up and hide it in my secret spot.
If you need me tonight, I will be out on the streets, hating life until about 9:00 pm. After that, however, I will be relaxing in my jacuzzi tub, feasting on the unpopular scraps of chocolate, left to me as a reward for putting up with the greatly despised Halloween.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
He's Baaaaack!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Moms Gone (unintentionally) Wild
Ya know what can really make a mom's stomach jump up into her throat? Sitting on the toilet, completely indisposed and hearing this sentence coming from a child on the other side of the wall:
"Oh, my God...it's on fire!"
If you've ever had to abruptly stop doing your business to check and see whether your house is going up in flames, then you know my pain. I ran, pants down, toilet paper in my crack and the wind in my hair, to the boys' room, to find the room still standing and flameless. There was smoke coming from heat lamp, used for the lizard cage, which was face down on the carpet. There were, however, two neighbor kids who had come to play. I had forgotten that they were at our house, in my panic stricken state.
I've never pulled up my pants quicker in my life. Not even as a drunken sorority girl, getting caught peeing in the bushes by the cops, have I ever gotten redressed so fast. Those poor, mentally scarred boys will never be the same. I think that my boys were even more embarrassed that their mother had the audacity to expose herself to their friends. All the explaining in the world will never make them understand that when a mother fears for her children, not even being pantless will stop her from doing whatever necessary to protect them.
Have Yourself A Merry Little Tuesday!
Hey, here's a little insider tip: If and when you get bored of reading my blog (because I'm sure it will happen eventually,) check out www.humor-blogs.com! It is a great resource for funny, off the wall and sometimes crude humor laden blogs. A great one to take a gander at is "Dorky Dad." A self admitted awkward father, who is able to look at the half empty glass and then chug its contents, no matter what they may be!
Another great blog to check out is "Crummy Church Signs." An awesome example of the best intended signs can be a real big mistake! This blog's author just completed his second book, and is donating the proceeds to orphaned children, which is more than I can say for a lot of other authors!!
Of course, there is the ever insightful "The More The Messier" blog. A mother with experience in raising six kids, some older, some still little tykes. She has a wonderful sense of humor, and great tips for how to make unusual Halloween costumes, (and why asking your husband to help is not always a great idea!)
All this and more may be found, simply by clicking on the little green icon at the bottom of the page titled, www.humor-blogs.com. A word to the wise though : Do not visit "Humor Blogs" if you are supposed to be accomplishing anything of great importance. You might laugh so hard that you wet yourself and have to leave work to change your drawers!! Happy reading :o
The Best Defense Is A Good Wrought Iron Fence
How do you handle three children fighting over the same highly coveted item? Normally, I take the item and put it away, leaving three tantrum throwing toddlers, inconsolably sobbing on the floor. Daniel solves the issue by taking the item and chucking it over the fence. Today, however, I was fed up with the sound of crying. Phillip's recent trend in biting, Ella's new found high pitch screaming and Aiden's recently patented "Mega Whine" have been more than my already worn out patience quota could weather.
The item of desire, this particular morning, is an umbrella stroller. For some reason, it has an irresistible quality. The normally feared restraining device that causes my children to start wailing and bucking like a bronco, has become a fascinating Indie 500 trial. One kid sits in it, unbuckled, mind you. The other pushes it, as fast as toddler legs will allow, around the house with a speed that would make Dale Earnhardt jealous. The stroller only comes to a halt, when an unobliging corner refuses to jump out of the way, causing a "fiery" crash. The injured victims, stagger to their feet, bawling and blaming the guilty driver. Two minutes later, the racing team is back on course, tearing across the kitchen with even more zeal than the first few attempts at breaking the sound barrier.
It was providing them with so much enjoyment (and the occasional bloody scrape,) that I couldn't bear for them to have to stop because of the lack of race cars...I mean strollers. So I foolishly went to the van and took out the other two umbrella strollers. It was like Christmas morning in our house! They all squealed with joy and ran to get their doll/action figure of choice. The poor, helpless toys, sitting unaware of their inevitable fates, were subjected to many laps around the house. Fortunately, none of the toys were seriously hurt. Unfortunately, it did not stop the kids from getting hurt. The race track...I mean kitchen, became a demolition derby in a matter of minutes. Strollers were careening into each other and bouncing off of kitchen appliances, creating a whole new avenue of entertainment, and unavoidable injury. The drivers all ended up with scrapes, bruises and tear stained cheeks.
When they could all subdue their sobs enough to speak, they turned and looked at me with furrowed brows and squinty eyes, as if to say "This is all your fault, Mom!" As usual, my attempt at being the fun parent has gone awry, and I have once again turned into a broom wielding wicked witch. They are currently holding a meeting in one of the bedrooms, to plot their revenge against their meanie mother. So, I'm off to hold a cup to the door so that I can get a head start on my defense!
Monday, October 29, 2007
And The Winner Is...
The next poll will not include reader submitted choices, but will still be more fun than a barrel of monkeys! So make sure to cast your votes, and be ready to submit your answers for next week's poll!
A Breed Of Crazy Seed
Well, that's it. We baptised our last baby yesterday. I am officially out of the babyhood era. Our house is no longer littered with pacifiers and breast pads. It is no longer an obstacle course of walkers, swings and playpens. We will never hear the lusty cries of hungry newborns and change twenty diapers a day (at least, not until I lose bladder control). Oddly, I am okay with it. I have enough on my plate with our 7 crazy children. Another baby would probably be the final push that sends me right over the edge of sanity!
Our last baptism went well, for a hastily planned, spur of the moment function. The three Prescott babies all looked angelic, (too bad Reed was acting like Satan's little spawn.) Daniel's uncle (Fr. John), performed the sacrament, as he always has. He is so patient and easy going during baptisms. The 34 (maybe more, I've lost count) grand kids might all be screaming and running amok, and he will just continue on as though they are all sitting quietly in their pews, hanging on his every word. I think he has acquired that ability from concelebrating years of Prescott sacraments. The Prescotts, as a whole, do not have subdued children. There has been much speculation as to why that is. There is the whole nature versus nurture debate, though no one can be totally sure of which has played the greater role in this phenomena. Our drive to the church, however, proved an excellent argument for the nurture theory.
Me: Hey guys, let's play the alphabet game.
Marlie: Okay, I'll start.
Daniel: What is the alphabet game?
Me: Are you serious? You've never played the alphabet game? It is a classic car trip game that involves finding letters in sequential order, on things like license plates and billboards. It provides at least 10 minutes of distraction.
Daniel: (laughing) Okay. If you say so.
Me: Do you have a better game?
Daniel: Yep, it's a classic Prescott car trip game.
Me: Okay, let's hear it.
Daniel: (giving me a playful nudge in the rib cage) "Never Leave Your Ribs Open!!!"
Me: That's a game? Who made that up?
Daniel: I dunno, one of my bored brothers, I guess. But it lasted the whole car trip!
Me: Oh my gosh. A game consisting of punching each other in the ribs? That is completely barbaric!
Daniel: Yeah, but it was fun! And you didn't have to know your alphabet to play! Everyone could join in.
(I am sitting in disbelief over what I am hearing. But then again, it is the Prescott clan we are speaking of. I have never met a family with so much testosterone and so many physically engaging games.)
Me: And you're saying that this game lasted the whole trip?
Daniel: Well, not always. Sometimes we got wise and covered our ribs, so the game morphed.
Me: It morphed?
Daniel: Yeah, because then it changed to "Never leave your jaw open!" So you had to cover your ribs and your jaw. That game lasted for the remainder of our trips.
I had to make Daniel promise that he would never teach our kids the "Never Leave Your ____ Open" game. After all, I am a Prescott by name, not blood. I have not the patience nor ability to ignore, like Uncle John and Mama Jackie. My kids fight enough out of anger, I may just drive off a damn cliff if they start pummeling each other for fun.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
One step forward...two shops back
Warning: Do not read this post until you have read the previous one titled, "Please pass the gravy, damn it!" If you don't, this will not make as much sense. Then again, it might not make much sense anyways. I've been told that the innermost functions of my mind are highly erratic and irrational. Please keep this in mind as you read the conversation that Daniel and I had last night. The conversation takes place in our kitchen, after I have returned from the mall.
D: Did you find a baptismal outfit for Reed?
Me: Yes, but they didn't have any traditional outfits, so I bought him a little suit.
D: How much did you spend?
Me: Hold on, I'm not done. (Here comes the itemization part of our usual post-shopping argument)
D: Again, how much did you spend?
Me: Well, that's hard to say. I did not keep a running tab.
D: What? Why would you need to keep a running tab for one outfit?
Me: Hold on please, let me explain. (Daniel sighs and takes an over dramatic gulp of his wine.)
Me: I had to stop at Sears and buy a stroller because I forgot Reed's at home. Next, I returned those jeans that I've been meaning to return for awhile. So, I was actually up by more than a hundred dollars. Then, I found Reed's outfit, but realized that he doesn't have any black shoes. I found some cute Pedi Peds that he can wear again, which totally makes good money sense. When I was in the checkout line, I spotted an adorable hair clip for Ella, and you know she needs all the help that she can get in the hair department. The poor girl is follicularly challenged!
(Daniel is trying to follow my rambling and find some sort of rationale in my thought process, but I can tell it is a struggle.)
I was on my way out of Nordstrom's when I spied an adorable onesie for Phillip's teacher's baby. It was a cute little Dr. Seuss "Green Eggs And Ham" onesie for only sixteen dollars. I've been looking for a perfect gift for her shower. So that actually saves us on gas money because I won't have to make another mall trip. See how smart I was being?
(Daniel tilts the wine glass, finishing the rest of its contents, and rubs his forehead repeatedly. I can tell he is not in agreement with me.)
Hallmark was on the way to the parking lot, so I popped in to grab some baptism cards for the other Prescott babies. While I was picking out cards, Marlie pointed out the precious baptism trinkets on a nearby display. You know how badly I hate being the only one without a gift at parties. So I selected two very small gifts for Grace and Luke.
I realized that I had spent more than I had planned on, so I sacrificed the new pair of slacks that I so desperately wanted, and we left the mall. See? I didn't buy one thing for myself! Just call me Prudence from now on, because my over spending days are long gone! (I was practically beaming from my amazing feat!)
(Daniel just stood silent at his corner of the kitchen counter. He was hunched over, head lowered, eyes peering at me as if to say, "Are you serious?" I could tell that I had not succeeded in convincing him of my praise worthy job. But I sincerely thought that I had displayed great restraint during my trip. Hadn't I made that clear in my explanation?)
D: (Pulling out receipts and gazing at them, still in silence.)
So, where is the part where you used restraint? (He doesn't even wait for an answer.)
Firstly, I will agree that you needed to buy Reed an outfit. But Ella did not need a new hair bow. She pulls the pony tails out of her hair every time you style it. So that was a pointless six dollars. Ms. Van's baby did not need a sixteen dollar onesie. You could have bought a whole pack of onesies for ten dollars at Sears. Besides that, you just bought her a twenty dollar Christmas ornament at that craft fair last weekend, remember?
(I look confused, but then recollect buying said ornament, and mouth a quiet "Oh yeah." He continues:)
As far as the baptism gifts, let me just say this. Being empty handed is not a crime or social faux pas, as you have said many times. When I was a kid, we were damn lucky if we were not empty handed on our own birthday! This is not even a birthday party. It is better to be empty handed than empty walleted, which we now are, thanks to you.
Me: But wait, I didn't even buy those slacks. I made the sacrifice, and am going to wear that old skirt in the closet that shows my bruised legs. I think we should focus on the positive here, don't you?
D: Okay, let's do that. I am positive that the "old" skirt in your closet is only a few moths old. I have seen you wear it once, which does not make it old. I am sorry that your legs are bruised. Might I suggest taking those iron supplements that you had to buy to keep your legs from bruising? They are sitting, untouched, in the back of the medicine cupboard. Or, you can wear one of the ten pairs of nylons in your drawer. My mother...
( Let's pause here. Daniel's mother is a living saint, just to let you know. Any woman who has 13 kids and lives to tell about it, deserves automatic heavenly hall of fame status. I am nothing like her. Okay, back to the reprimanding.)
D: ...had one dress and one good pair of pants when she was raising us. She never went to a mall. She never had the option of over spending. I know that you are not her. But you have a big family like her, and need to realize that. We cannot spend like we have one child. I am positive that you are no closer to being rehabilitated than you were two months ago. (He pours another glass of wine.)
(I am feeling utterly defeated and can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I am wondering if the alcoholics feel this way at AA meetings.)
You had one hundred, seventy dollars from returning the jeans. But you spent one hundred, fifty five at the mall. That leaves us with fifteen dollars cash. We need fifty dollars to pay for the baptism tomorrow, which means a trip to the ATM. However, you did take back those jeans, so I'm willing to let you slide. (He smiles and then hugs me.)
(Later that night, I am pulling out Reed's outfit form the Nordstrom bag, and discover something. There is a shirt in the bag that I had not purchased. I venture to guess that it was one of the many garments that Reed was ripping off of the clothes racks as we strolled through the store. Daniel looks at the shirt and then at me, as if to say, "What the hell is that?)
Me: I swear, I didn't buy this!
D: I know, it is not on the receipt.
Me: I guess I'll have to go back to Nordstrom to return it.
D: NO! No, I'll go. We can't even afford a return, if it is made by you!
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Please pass the gravy, damn it!!
Being on a diet really bites the big one. I have been on a diet for about two brutally long months now. I feel like I am starving to death. Going places is pure torment because I am constantly faced with temptation. Every little morsel cries out to me as I pass by. "Pick me, Kadi. You really need me. You've been so good. Just reward yourself!" The thoughts bombard my mind like little soldier ants on a mission to divide and conquer. It is everything I can do to turn away and deny my hunger. It is a battle that I feel like I am never going to win.
Now, before you send me an angry email about how I have an eating disorder, and need to seek professional counseling, let me divulge one more bit of info. I am on a debt diet. I gave up my credit cards (yes, more than one,) to my husband as an act of good faith, and also under threat of death! I've tried everything to curb the urge to spend. That freezer trick...you know, the one where you freeze the cards in a bowl of water? It is supposed to give you time to contemplate whether you really need the object of your obsession, while the card defrosts. Well, that trick is not really effective if you own a microwave, or very hot water. Any half witted human could have figured their way around that deterrent! Being that I am slightly more than half witted, it only took me two days of desperation to nuke the hell out of that giant ice cube. The really sad thing is, I cannot even remember what I ended up buying after all that effort.
With seven kids there is always someone in need of a new pair of pants or shoes. There is always a birthday party or baby shower to buy a gift for. In our house, there is always a broken door or lamp or something in need of repair. The everyday expenditures add up quickly and leave no room for splurging, which I have a hard time swallowing. I do splurge on myself when we get a big chunk of extra cash, because I feel the need to look decent when in public. Let's face it, people stare at us like we have two heads. No matter where we go, we get stared at and ultimately judged by our appearance. I know that it should not affect me, but it does. I'll be damned if I look like a run down, rag wearing baby machine with seven scruffy kids in tow. I have always relied on the approval of others, which is horrible, but the out right truth. I have also placed a great amount of importance on my own looks, another sad reality. But I can, at least, admit to it. God has really hit the nail on the head by putting me in a place, that has forced me to learn a lot of things the hard way. The habits of my early days really came full circle to bite me in the ass! Some days, I wish God wasn't so stinkin' gracious with his hard knock life lessons. It was so much easier to just get by on outward appearances and the hope that a lush, green money tree would sprout out of nowhere.
My primary problem lies in the fact that we are a one income family. Daniel's income does well to pay our bills, feed us and do an occasional outing. But if we have any extras to fund, they are either charged or denied. Personally, I prefer the former! My secondary dilemma lies in the fact that spending creates a feeling of euphoria that I can derive from no other source on earth. I think I was born with the addiction to shop. My dad told me early on that I have champagne taste on a beer budget. I never was a saver, like my sisters. The Hello Kitty Store was my childhood heaven on earth. As I got older it was Wet Seal. After I got married it was Target and Nordstrom. Now I am struggling to put into practice the theory of "doing without." I have to be honest, doing without really sucks.
The road toward Saver-ville has been rocky. So many times I have secretly desired to turn back and run like mad to the mall, credit cards in hand. I miss Spender-ville like a crack addict misses his pipe. I think back on my care free shopping sprees with a fondness that can only be compared to memoirs of eating homemade cookies at grandma's house. Then I reflect on my arrival back at home, after the sprees. The feelings or tremendous trepidation that would well up when Daniel's jaw hit the floor after seeing a plethera of bags in my hands. The panic inspired knots in my stomach as I tried to decide where to stash some of my purchases, until my husband's fits of rage died down. The guilt that flooded my mind when the credit card bills arrived the next month. The knowledge that my spending would never allow us to experience financial freedom.
Come to think of it, there is a lot more that I do not miss! It is actually nice to come home from the store, and not have to stuff receipts in every vacant crevice , or try to rationalize 300 dollar trips to Target. I guess being on this diet, no matter how challenging it seems, is actually allowing me some freedom from all of the traumatic aftermath. So, as much as I miss my beloved shopping trips, it is really worth saving myself the grief that followed. Maybe this diet isn't so bad after all. Now, if I can just make it through Christmas...
Friday, October 26, 2007
My New Home Ventillation Design
Proof That Smoke Inhalation Causes Brain Damage
The boys were up at five o' clock this morning. By six o'clock they had already eaten breakfast, peed all over their bathroom, watched some cartoons and then decided that they were bored. So they made up a new game. The name of the game is "Stack The Couch Cushions Against The Wall, Run Full Speed And Crash Into Them." The winner is the one who does not get hurt. As you can see below, Daniel was not the winner! The cushions fell before he got to the wall, and well...you can pretty much guess what happened after that. I tried to get a few pictures, but I missed the part where he crashed into the wall because Ella was on top of the fridge and needed help getting down. Did I mention that I despise three day weekends? P.S. don't forget to email me with your poll answers. See the side bar for details. Happy Friday!!
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Jeckyl and Hide (yes, it's a pun!)
Want to see me go from mild mannered mother of seven, to mind boggling, face contorting, banshee like mega bitch in 6 seconds flat? Well, too bad, cause I forgot to turn the video camera on this afternoon. So you'll just have to read this and form your own mental picture.
If you read this morning's post, (and you better have!) you would know that the day did not start out too well. The really crappy part is, it got infinitely worse, as it progressed. Daniel forgot his wallet at home, and returned shortly after I finished posting my morning vent. He expected, as I suppose all husbands do, an impromptu romp before hitting the road. It must have been a fantastic experience for him because he forgot his wallet AGAIN, when he left for work.
It was not so great for me, however. I should have made a shirt that read "I gave my husband a quickie and all I got was a lousy period." Yep, you guessed it. Minutes later, my favorite time of the month commenced. If you are grossing out reading this...then just leave now. This is not a post for the faint of heart, or pure of spirit.
Phillip stayed home today, with a sore leg. I pray that it is a growing pain, because midgets cause me to experience inappropriate laughter, and how sad would that be to always be laughing at my vertically challenged son? So he took advantage of the situation, and tortured Ella all day long. It was an endless cycle of, "Moooooooooommmmmyyyyyyyy!! Phillip's hitting me!" Followed by some half assed defense from Phillip. For a kid who was limited to laying on the couch, he sure did manage to make my day a living hell.
Flash forward to 1:30pm. I am picking up Marlie and Daniel from school, when Marlie's friend asks if she can come over. I so badly want to slam the door shut and give her the international sign for, "Sorry, I can't hear you," but her mom is standing there. Did I mention that her mom is Marlie's teacher? So she takes a seat in the back row, and immediately starts arguing with Daniel. For an outsider, she sure can fight like a Prescott.
Before I even pull up to the pick up line at the younger boys' school, I spot a huge yellow sign. The sign reads: "No School Tomorrow." I frantically look through each backpack and find that every kid has a note from the Superintendent that informs all parents of the cancellation due to fire conditions. At this point, I want to bash my head against the steering wheel and knock myself unconscious. I give an exaggerated thumbs down to the teacher holding the "No School" sign, as I drive by. She laughs at me, as though I'm kidding. In all honesty, I'd like to jump out of the van window, grab the sign, tear it to shreds. and stomp on it, just to make a point.
Trenton enters the van, holding a note from his teacher. I open the envelope, hoping for a tiny iota of good news. Nope, it is a referral to the Principal. Trenton has been misbehaving in class so badly that his teacher saw fit to send him to the Principal. His infractions included: Not listening, not following directions and refusing to lower the hood on his sweatshirt. I shoot Trenton the "Look of death" from my seat, and peel out of the school's circle drive.
When we return home, I put on a movie for the kids and make snacks, so that I can sit and check my email. My legs are throbbing from the increased blood flow, and my abdomen is crying out for a moment of respite. The movie does little to stop the kids from thrashing the living room. I think I actually turn green and rip off my shirt when I see the mess they made. It is a transformation that even Lou Forigno (sp?) can take lessons from. Half way through my conniption fit, I find Marlie's friend hovered in a corner, looking petrified. I calmly explain that sometimes in our house, I have to become a screaming monster to get the kids to cooperate. I think the explanation is a day late and a dollar short. When her mom comes to get her, she bolts out of the house without any arguments, which is extremely unusual for her.
Daniel drives up as they drive away. I hand him the kids, give him a short synopsis of my day, and retire to the computer. He knows not to even question my need to escape. Sometimes, extreme days call for extreme blogging. See? I feel better already. But I pity the children tomorrow. Day two of my uterine shedding is always the worst!
P.S. If I have any grammatical errors or misspellings, make a note of it and then shove it where the sun don't shine because I could really give a shit today. Good night!
Just Another Morning
I am just going to start by putting this simply: I had the morning from hell. Let's just say that everything that could have gone wrong, did. The kids would not get up, could not find clothes that they liked and just had no general motivation to do anything that needed to get done. And that is just the beginning...
Today is Red Sock Day at school, to promote Red Ribbon Week. The kids needed red socks. Did anyone tell me this? Of course not. I was expected to remember the notice that was sent home last week, listing the themes for Red Ribbon Week. I cannot even remember my own kids names, and I've been practicing those for eight years!!! How am I supposed to remember to buy four pairs of red socks, a week later? So they wore white socks, and blamed me for ruining their chances of winning a class pizza party. I told them that I would order them pizza if they would just get off my back. But they had better remind me to order it, because I cannot be expected to retain that info for more than five minutes.
Ella found my last tube of Chapstick this morning. I had purchased four tubes on Sunday. She has already hunted down and eaten three of them. I had one precious tube left. I found it smeared all over the dining room table, after I came out of the restroom. I went to the kitchen to get a towel for cleaning purposes, and found yet another Eleanor creation. She had taken my sour cream lemon pie (the one that I just bought from Marie Callender's last night,) and shoved her baby doll in it. All of the lemony goodness was oozing over the sides, and the sour cream topping was on the floor, being eagerly lapped up by Reed and the dog. Good thing I ate one piece for breakfast, or I'd really be pissed.
Daniel called me at Girl Scouts last night, to inform me that I had better find a new home for my dog, or he will. Apparently, the dog pooped in the house again, and Reed got hold of it again. Then Reed redistributed it all over the house...again. Then she pooped in our bedroom this morning, to top it all off. So, I'm forced to give up a dog...again. I guess I'd better learn my lesson about the nature of dog/husband relationships. In our house, they just never work out. There will always be a reason why the dog has crossed the line, and Daniel will not tolerate any line crossing (unless it is one of the kids who is doing it.)
Somebody peed all over the toilets in all three bathrooms. I find it not at all, a coincidental act. I'm starting to think that we have a case of deliberate toilet vandalism going on this week. Today is the third day that I have gone to use the restroom, and sat on a peed covered toilet. Then, when I examine it closer, I see the whole latrine and surrounding floor had been urinated on. So I've locked all of the bathroom doors. If anyone has to use the bathroom, they will have to ask for the key, and then be subject to inspection afterwards. Kind of like gas station bathrooms, only slightly less dirty...maybe not.
The next lock installation in our house is slated for this weekend. We are putting a lock on the laundry room door. I am tired of finding liquid laundry soap all over the floor. Those economy sized containers are too easy to operate, now that they have push button functions. Any kid that can reach the button, has easy access to a whole new form of parental frustration. Especially when that parent walks through the laundry room, to get to the garage, and doesn't see the soap on the floor because the laundry room light is off. Then that parent slips on the soap and goes cascading across the laundry room floor. Good thing the wrought iron fire place gate was there to stop me...unfortunately it fell and smacked me in the head. **Side note: We do not use the gate anymore because we have been forced to lock the fire place's sliding glass doors, making them impossible to open. Also making it impossible to enjoy a nice crackling fire.
Aside from a few fist fights and tantrums, that pretty much brings us up to speed on this morning's events. Just think...we still have another eleven hours to go until the day is over. I can only imagine what will transpire between now and then, and what we will be required to install a lock on next!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
On A Whim
I've decided to add a better poll to the site, just to liven things up a bit. I've also attatched a little incentive for those who are interested. The way it will work is just this.
I will post a new question each Wednesday morning. If you wish to submit an answer, just email it to me by Friday night. Voting on the submissions will commence on Saturday, and the winner will be announced on Tuesday. If your answer is the winner, you will have the opportunity to send me a picture and/or blog entry to be posted on my blog. ***All posts are subject to my review and editing for content. Meaning: I can reject the picture/post if it is overly crude, rude or even partly nude. I can also request that you remove offensive material, unless it it is really hilarious. Hey... it's my blog and I'll do what I want!!
With that said, the first question will be posted right now.