Freedom...Part 2!?

Yesterday I had two more glorious hours to myself. I didn't feel like going anywhere so Rick decided he was going to the store anyway. Patrick really wanted to go so I got him dressed. Since my eldest two kids are completely codependent, Sarah wanted to go too. Then Rick figured he may as well take the baby along. !!! WHAT!? This coming from the man who lets the children play in the car (instead of with him) while he does yardwork, the guy who can't manage the three of them long enough for me to take a real shower, the dad who has no idea where we keep the medicine, shoes, or diapers.

I waved goodbye from the window and counted to 10. The truck didn't reappear. The phone did ring, however. Do they miss me? Maybe you should come back? I had no idea what to do with my free time so I went and laid down since I'm chronically exhausted. I was so excited that I couldn't sleep so I got up, did some laundry, played on the computer, put some lights up for Christmas, and chatted on the phone for a few minutes. I even got to read a little. It was awesome!

I had time to think, too..which is always a dangerous past time. I realized that Rick is either dying, or on drugs. When confronted with this, he simply answered, "I just wanted you to have some time alone." Okay...maybe I'm dying and I don't know it yet.

Mass Without Children

Yesterday my man was off from work and decided that he didn't want to go to church with us. I (half) jokingly said, "Well if you don't want to go then your punishment is keeping one or two of the kids with you so I can catch a word or two of the homily for once." To my utter shock he agreed, and on top of that declared that he would keep ALL of them home. Clearly this was his idea of a sick joke and I wasn't falling for it. But as the time creeped closer for us (me?) to leave he never started laughing and pointing or hinting that he'd changed his mind. Finally it was time for me to go and I kissed my sticky kids and hugged my hubby goodbye. I made sure he knew where the shoes were (sadly, he really doesnt know such things), begged that he feed them real food and not junk to buy their cooperation, and aske dnumerous times if he "was sure about this".....and then I peeled out of the driveway leaving a splaying of dust and pebbles without a second glance in the rearview in fear they would chase me down and take away my freedom before it had even started.

I glanced around, almost nervously...it felt forbidden...it felt GOOD! I couldn't think of anything to do so I decided to listen to the radio, but that plan fell through because only one station would come in and it was a vulgar talk show for guys with no hope of getting a woman. I looked to my right and remembered that Sarah had broken the attenna off of my truck. No problem, I'll just listen to my iPod... Good plan until my phone rang. Rick. Wanting to know where I was. Really...? I'm 5 minutes away from home! That's okay, I'll just enjoy the silence. Wow, silence is creepy. So I started talking outloud to myself.

Upon arriving at my church I got out and opened the backdoor. I had already partially climbed in to unlock the carseat in the back before I realized there was nobody strapped in. I ambled to the sidewalk, never stopping to look at a rock or a bug or a weed poking out from the concrete. I didn't have to count heads, my pace wasn't broken by a skinned knee or a butterfly needing to be caught. Once inside I could sit where ever I pleased, not somewhere close to an exit. I didn't have to help anyone bless themselves. The woman sitting beside me asked if I attended regularly. Clearly, she was impressed to see a high school girl dutifully going to Mass alone. I explained I usually have three children with me, and I felt pangs of guilt as I did so.

I listened to every word that was said, answered each responsorial, actually prayed something besides Lord, just get me through the rest, please! I even got to smile fondly at the man who had to carry his squirming, talkative baby outside. I got to feel what it felt like to NOT be the one being smiled (or-more rarely-glared) at. My offering envelope was perfectly intact as there was nobody there to fight over who gets to put it in the basket. No bickering to quiet, no nose-picking, no Walk of Shame, no having to nurse someone...all this peace before the first reading.

Shhh--Don't tell anybody!! But I really did not enjoy myself. Children NEED to be at Mass just like the rest of us; even if they have to be taken out for a spanking three times. People asked where they were and I was ashamed to answer "Daddy has them at home". I appreciate that my hubby was trying to be helpful and do me a favor, and I shocked myself by drawing the conclusion that I would rather whether embarrassment and frustration than worship Christ alone, without my blessings beside me. (Or more accurately, under or on me.)

When I pulled up to my house, I was greeting by shouts of joy and smothered with wet baby kisses. The kids were happy to see me as well. As predicted, the two hours I was gone cost me approximately one afternoon of clean-up, one load of laundry, and $17 worth of groceries. The price was well-worth the lesson learned: bring the kids to church! Jesus wants them there!

My Man-In-Training

The Holy Spirit knows when I need a little something...I love, love, LOVE my little darlings. Most of the time. But it never fails-just when I feel I may fail as a mother, the Lord gives me something to hold onto and it helps me realize most of the things I get upset about are, well, stupid.

Today my hubby had to go into work for night #2 in a row of 4 this week. My middle child is the one with the shortest attention span, whom wakes every.single. night. and screams for 10 minutes, the one whom I can bathe and strap into his carseat and still will manage to be a sticky, dirty mess. He is also the most sensitive, generous child in the household. He gets very upset when his daddy has to go to work...

He asked the same thing he asks everyday: "Daddy work?" Upon hearing, "Yep, Daddy has to go to work to make money," he teared up and ran to his room. I, of course, am used to this scenario as it happens the same way each day. The tears are always genuine, but today was different: He emerged from his room with two fistfuls of change from his piggy bank and with the most hopeful expression, offered it to his father. I was fighting tears and my mentally challenged husband didn't get it. So I explained: "He gave you every cent he has thinking since you are going to work for money you will be able to stay home."

He should have called in sick! I know I don't do everything (even HALFthing) right, but moments like that make me realize I really need to get on the ball and help these munchkins use the gifts God gave them. I have been away too long...I'm ready to come back. And I owe it to my kids!

I had today planned out so nicely in my head: pack up my well-behaved, clean children and head to their favorite, never-crowded playground where we would put our $5 Little Caesar's pizza and drinks on the huge picnic table, and the wind would not blow our napkins away. But the 80% chance of severe thunderstorms called for 100% change of plans and we decided to make today a baking day.

I make banana bread frequently since I always have rotten overripe bananas around. The kids like to take turns putting the ingredients in the bowl, and more often than not they disappear until that magical moment when they get to lick the beaters clean. I have a rich fantasy life: in my imagination I have a clean home, kids with impeccable manners, and we have way more fun than everyone else. The upside to my sleep-deprivation is that it allows me just enough crazy to actually convince myself that this is halfway true...call it self-preservation!

In my head we have two loaves of bread-one for daddy to take to work and another for our breakfast tomorrow morning. My smiling children happily help me and do not fight at all. We all laugh together and after the bread bakes we sit with hot chocolate and watch the rain and no one spills anything. This is what really happened:

• I got the bowls and ingredients out and pulled a chair up to the counter so the kids could reach to "help". (After this part, it's all a blur, but Ill do my best...)
• Luke was standing at the sink (see previous post to read about his obsession with washing dishes). He was entertaining himself peacefully while the older two were getting ready to bake.
• They ambushed me. I know it was an ambush and not a series of unfortunate coincidences because it was too masterfully orchestrated.
• At this point Sarah must have given the imperceptible signal because in one instant Luke dumped a cup of water on the floor-he had backup cups ready to go because they kept coming one after another.
• As copious amounts of water flooded the floor my cat-like reflexes kicked in and I turned off the water and removed Luke from his battle station.
• My finely-tuned danger-radar alerted me to possible follow-up attacks and I spun around in time to see Patrick flinging my spices from the cabinet. Sarah was beside him, furiously scribbling the bottoms of my loaf pans with black marker.
• I went ninja on them and smacked their behinds before they knew it was coming. (Not to worry-if you think this can't be done, rest assured that with the dedication and sheer determination, you too will be able to spank multiple bottoms at one time.)
• Three hours (NOT including clean-up) later we really did have two yummy loaves of banana bread.

It was over as quickly as it started and they retreated to the playroom to plan the next ambush play with their toys. I started to let my guard down and relax a bit, even enjoying the moment...the smell of the loaves baking...the wind blowing the impending rain scent in through the open windows...and just how lucky I am to be able to take in moments like that.

We had two truckloads of firewood delivered (we like to light many fires during the winter). When the couple showed up to unload it in the carport Bonnie & Clyde (better known as Sarah and Patrick) morphed back into the heathen children they like to be in front of other people. I have spent many hours trying to figure out why they do that to me, but I have never come up with an answer. At first they just sat in the doorway, watching and talking between themselves. Then...they morphed. They started fighting like two starving dogs over one steak. I looked at the firewood people, rolled my eyes, and said in a hushed, secretive voice, "I can't wait till their mom comes to pick them up." I know, I know. But it was just one of those things...I blurted it out before really thinking about it. I'll do better tomorrow.

This was quite possibly the worst bread-making experience to date.

Last night I thought I would try to save time by letting the baby come into the shower with me so that I would only have the other two to take care of in the tub. So when he was nice and clean I put him in his cozy jammies (it has been cold the past few nights!) and combed his unruly hair and brushed his teeth. He was downright adorable.

I was so pleased with myself I decided to step it up a notch and I put toothpaste on the older children's toothbrushes so that all they'd have to do was come inside from playing and jump in the bath and everything would be all perfect and ready. Well they had other plans as usual and while I was bust preparing (thinking I was on top of things) they jumped in the hot tub. I heard the noise so I checked on them (I have no problem with them playing in there-it is shallow and they are all able to swim, plus I can see them clearly from the kitchen/living room). Sigh...

So I obviously had to change his PJs and get him into a new diaper. After that was over I had to hang up his wet clothes and while I was doing that (no more than 30 seconds, I swear!), I don't know how he managed to get a hold of a candle, but he did. Don't worry-it wasn't lit. But it was covered in soot, which he smeared all over his face when he wiped his eyes. I had to scrub him clean again-candle smudge is surprisingly hard to get off of skin. Right after declaring him acceptable for bed, he pooped. So much for saving time!

Not A Baker

We decided to make cookies since the kids really wanted to go to the park, but I didn't feel like getting dressed beyond my embarrassing "home" clothes. It was chilly today so it felt like the perfect thing to do; open the windows and doors and let the oven warm the kitchen while we smell yummy cookies baking and eat more batter than we should.

I followed the recipe to the letter-did everything exactly as it was written. Just like I always do. And just like always-they turned out terribly. I cannot even describe my cookies...Let me try: they are nasty looking, but taste okay (most of the time!). They are somehow an unnatural combination of too soft and too hard while taking on a heinous shape that does NOT in any way resemble a cookie. Usually what we wind up with is little chunks of somewhat-tasty hard (yet soft?)...stuff.

Sarah wouldn't even try them. She looked at the mangled mess on the counter and made a face and walked away, thoroughly disgusted. My sweet middle child decided to eat them, but judging from the pile I found behind the couch I'm guessing he wasn't as impressed as he led me to believe. Luke just kept grabbing them and marching directly to the trash can. Once again my hours of mixing, measuring, and trying so so hard was fruitless. Cookies are the one thing I cannot ever get right no matter what.

**Update: I decided to let the older children watch TV for a bit before bed under the condition that they would watch in silence. (They baby is already asleep-for now.) Par for the course-they blew it and I made them go to bed with the TV off. Patrick was very perturbed by this and started to cry. In between sobs he told me, "YOUR COOKIES ARE YUCKY!! I TRIED THEM AND THEY ARE YUCK!!". HAHAHA...I swear I am not making that up. I stopped writing my post about my inability to bake cookies and my son insulted them as the worst thing he could think of to say to me while he was angry. heehee Just had to add that.

Wow, two posts in one day.

I was doing school with Sarah this morning and Patrick went outside to jump on the trampoline. I only did maybe 10 minutes worth of writing when Patrick comes running in covered in what I assumed to be ash from the grill. (He has done that before-played in the grill.)

So I had to stick him in the tub because he was beyond repair. A quick glance outside didn't alert me to anything too terrible. About 30 minutes later Daddy went outside to start some projects (the same projects he's been working on for about a year coughcough) and starts yelling about how cement got everywhere. Um, cement? Yes, somehow Patrick managed to find a bag of cement, open it, and fling it EVERYWHERE in the shed., All of the Christmas decorations were ashy, the tools, the floor was like a cement beach.

So hubby spent the next 3 hours emptying and cleaning the cement off of our belongings while I kept the kids inside (read: out of the way). I put away a load of dishes from the dishwasher and was re-loading it with the few things that had accumulated from the morning when I grabbed a plastic cup that was on its side. I didn't give it a second thought; I had no reason to. I just picked it up carelessly to set it in the washer. Big mistake-this soggy glob of wetness flung in my face;l I was temporarily blinded by this horrible goop from the sink. I had no idea what it was yet, but my mind was playing all kinds of tricks on me-I was picturing festering drain gunk as I was rubbing at my eyes and stumbling around...actually, stumbling backwards...right into a tiny puddle of leftover hot dog water. Which I promptly slipped on and fell into. I still reek of hot dog. Yuck!

For the record-the substance in the cup was unwanted pop-tart.

Clean House? Nope!

The past few weeks I have been catching Luke doing a lot of pushing chairs up to the counter so he can climb up and get into everything. Occasionally, he climbs up for the sole purpose of cleaning. Yup, cleaning. If there is a paper towel on the floor he will use it to spot clean the tile. If there's laundry scattered about he will put it in the appropriate "pile". He is me. Here he is sneaking doughnuts and washing dishes, respectively:

Sometimes scrubbing the sink requires actually sitting in said sink:

Luke also likes playing in the car. This is 100% my hubby's fault because he thinks it is okay to open the car doors and let the children play while he wanders around the yard. So whenever we play outside I have to battle with the kids because"daddy lets them". Here is just one example of why letting children play in cars is a stupid idea: BBQ sauce fingerpaint. I am often told by friends who come over to our house that it is "clean," or even that I am a "neat freak". I wold like to take this opportunity to set the record straight: I decided to clean behind the entertainment center and found this. I am particularly disturbed by the unfamiliar substance on the lower right. I have closely examined this and cannot figure out what it could be. It resembles cat puke, but I am positive it's not. Not play-doh, not food, not gum. It's a mystery. So there it is, folks. The proof that my house is nastier than yours! :) See, I am not a clean freak. And apparently I have no shame either since I am willing to post such a disgusting photo.

So THAT'S what a "weekend" is!?

I don't know if other moms out there feel like this, but to me a Saturday may as well be a Monday or Thursday...my kids don't go to public school and my husband VERY rarely has a weekend day off. My routine pretty much stays the same from day to day. So I do not grasp the excitement people feel for The Weekend.

Until this past weekend, that is! It was awesome! The kids and I drove my brother to the airport. He stayed at our house for a month so we were all ready to say our goodbyes. After we dropped him off we went to visit a friend of ours whom we have not seen in about three years. By some miracle we were able to spend the entire afternoon with our buddy, whom is usually extremely busy, at a beautiful park where there were two separate playgrounds and a shallow stream that ran through with many bridges for the kids to cross and play on. The day could not have been more perfect-God is good! The children took off their shoes and played in the water, got completely filthy, added grass stains to their outfits: just perfect! You can measure the amount of fun a child has had by the amount of filth on their clothes and body. My kids had a BLAST.

After the park we all decided we were hungry and went to eat. Then we brought our friend home, washed up, put jammies on and loaded back up in the car for the hour and fifteen minute ride home. After years of sleep deprivation I have become a bit neurotic about my bedtime routine. I have done this many, many times (dress the kids for bed so they fall asleep in the car), and it always works flawlessly. I am a bedtime genius. I left at 7:15, which is the exact time I would get the kids to bed if we had been home. All they had to do was fall asleep and I would move them to their beds when we arrived home.

About 20 minutes into the ride I looked in the mirror with satisfaction as Sarah's eyes closed. A quick check on Patrick showed he was not far behind-he looked as if his eyes were shut and he had big blue eyes painted on his eyelids. I swear I kept watching him and that child never blinked once. (lol) Luke, of course, had blood-curdling screams coming out lasting the *entire* ride, save the last 15 minutes. So my plan back-fired for the first time: Sarah slept long enough that she felt rested up, Patrick just stared the whole way so I assume his brain shut off as if he were asleep and resting, and Luke kept himself awake by screaming.

We walked inside at 8:30 and the kids were in great spirits...I was not so happy. I made them a bed in the living room (they wanted to camp out) genuinely thinking they would fall asleep watching TV. WRONG AGAIN. They partied like I have never seen them. They were awake at 10:30 when my hubby got home from work. They were awake when said hubby and myself realized we could no longer stay awake. I took the baby into bed with me because (thankfully) he was ready for sleep. They were even awake at 12:30 when I came out to check on them. Daddy was passed out on the living room floor and Sarah and Patrick were watching Pirates of the Caribbean (I still don't know how she learned to use the DVR!?) and had sugar cookies scattered about. Sarah was holding a butter knife covered in orange Halloween icing. Between them was the container of frosting. At that point I didn't really care anymore and simply turned around and went back to bed. At 1:30 am I checked again and the cookies were cleaned up (or more likely eaten), and the rugrats were FINALLY asleep. I couldn't believe they stayed up so late; that is a first!

Sunday was fun, too-Rick got off work at 2 o'clock and was able to come home for supper with us. Patrick turned 4 years old that day so I made him pirate cupcakes (he is obsessed) for after the birthday dinner he requested: corn and macaroni and cheese. They all went to bed at their normal time I'm happy to report. Daddy laid down with them since it was a special occasion (birthdays and holidays are the only time he ever puts them to bed; the rest of the year it's mommy), and while we tucked them in we told Patrick his birth story, which we do every year for each of them. This was the first year he really understood what his birth story meant and that was special for me because I truly consider it an honor and a gift from God to be a mother-no matter what I blog about. ;) He had lots of questions and Sarah had a few too. After we were done talking I left with baby Luke and counted down the minutes until Rick gave up and came strolling out with two wound up kids behind him. 13 minutes. He lasted longer than he normally does.

We had ourselves a fantastic weekend; I am grateful for our many blessings. :)

Writing Style...?

I saw this on a friend's blog (Thanks, Jessica!) and found it interesting. This is a true story: I knew my result before I even hit "Submit". This leaves me with a dozen unanswered questions...Has my writing technique been stolen this whole time I've been "writing"!?...Have I been influenced so heavily that I've subconsciencly picked up this style?...Is it possible I was simply drawn to this author because we are both brilliant? Did I alter my mind forever the moment I picked up one of his novels before my age hit double digits? Hmmm...this is the stuff that will keep me awake at night.

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

(P.S. I have read nearly every book he has written-including his alter egos-I also own a bookshelf that is dedicated to King novels. Perhaps I should channel other writers for a while.....)

Let the Homeschooling BEGIN!

Today is the first day of public school. My kids and I were hanging out together passing the morning the way we always do and Sarah noticed a school bus pass by the window. She realized that meant school was back in session and for the first time ever she seemed interested in going.

I have already made up my mind to homeschool her (and the boys, of course) so for a split second I wondered..."Am I doing the right thing?" In approximately 3 nanoseconds a solid, unyielding "YES" resonated throughout my entire being. Yes, this is the right path for our family. No one is going to be a better teacher for my kids than ME.

To make Sarah feel more official, I made a big deal about all the "school stuff" we did today. For example, the letter of the day is "B" and the color is blue. So we made blue play dough and banana bread. We rattled off every "b" word we could think of (well, almost all of them!). And we filled back packs with blue objects and Sarah went to school (aka-her room) and passed along her knowledge to her baby brother. It was such a good day!

**I am abandoning my post and switching gears...I have to share this story:
While I was writing this I had many thoughts going through my head. I planned on getting really in-depth about the misconceptions of homeschooled children (they are unsocialized freaks for example), and how the drive to homeschool is built-in...I was just stopped in my tracks. Patrick came and tugged at my shirt and he excitedly said, "I made Jesus". So I came and looked at his mound of play dough and sure enough there was a cross made by pressing a plastic knife through. He said he wasn't finished yet and started making blood spots and wounds.

I am honestly not sure what to do with this? This has been happening for months: he is fascinated by the crucified Jesus. I don't remember how it even started, but one day I explained what happened to Our Lord (the story of His Passion basically). I have walked into the room and seen Patrick standing under the crucifix, starting intently; several times he has even started crying because of Jesus' injuries. Another time I caught him in his room. When he saw me he had a look on his face like he was busted. Ususally this would mean there was glue in his hair or something was broken, but when I checked things out he had climbed onto a chair to reach the crucifix and brought it in his room to stare at it. He thought he was in trouble for touching it; all I did was walk away and leave him to it. He kept it for a long time and when he was finished (with whatever his little mind was doing) he simply put it back in its proper place-no damage, no swordplay...nothing improper at all.

Wouldn't be amazing if I am raising a priest!? :) But I don't know what to say to him. I get uncomfortable...I am making a promise to myself (and my kid!) that I will start praying for guidance. Hopefully when things like this happen God will take over and give me something wise to say instead of just standing there like an idiot and not taking advantage of chances to teach. I am taking a guess, but maybe God is helping me come back to Him through Patrick? I don't know...but it is working.

Markers Part.....Oh Forget It, I Lost Count

I rebuke Wal-Mart and their 20 cent school supplies!

Those kids are always 1 step ahead of me, no matter how much I plan in advanced to avoid such situations. I was thoughtfully putting crayons in ziplocks and writing names on the bags with Sharpie because I am a genius and I know doing so will prevent fights when they decide to use the art supplies.

Meanwhile........

Naps are for Weenies

Two days ago the baby decided he was sleepy very early in the day-9:45 am. The older kids were in a rare state and actually playing together nicely so I decided it must be a gift from God and took the opportunity to rest. Naturally, after only about 2 minutes Sarah came into the room asking me something and I silenced her in a rush and gave her strict instructions to "do whatever; just don't bother me".

So she went into Luke's room with Patrick and they were talking amongst themselves; it is not uncommon for Sarah to use the baby's room as a nursery for her dolls so I knew that was what they were doing. For 45 blissful minutes I snuggled my little guy and smelled his fading baby scent.


I never heard any arguing, crying, objects smashing into the walls, or furniture being dismantled. I was a little unnerved, but I was enjoying the peace and I was afraid to interrupt the play because they almost NEVER interact together for that long without incident.


Luke opened his eyes and squirmed and so our siesta was over. Hours passed and eventually I needed to go into Luke's room for something. This is what I saw:



I had already started cleaning when I snapped the photo-it was much worse. Anyone who knows me knows I have a touch of OCD: all of the clothes are organized according to size and season. Not anymore. The crib is usually quite inviting with stuffed animals and cozy blankets (as nobody ever sleeps in it). It was was stripped bare to the mattress and covered in cookie crumbs. The tiny jackets and cute clothes which need to be hung are kept neatly in the closet in order from smallest size to biggest and, of course, season. They were scattered all over the floor and about a dozen hangers were snapped because they tried to swing from them on the closet rail. What really scares me is they were able to completely ransack the room so swiftly and silently. I honestly was fooled into thinking they were playing house.


My 45 minute rest cost me a days' worth of work. I realize that the children are old enough to know better-they know that tearing stuff up like that is NOT okay. However I didn't know how I should react since I clearly told them to do whatever they wanted as long as they didn't wake Luke and I up. So the next morning we started re-organizing the clothes, putting the crib back together, and getting the diapers back on the shelves. Each time they asked to get into the pool I answered, "We can't play in the pool today because we have to clean the baby's room that you destroyed." Believe me, they asked literally every 3 minutes. But I never gave in. Finally order was restored and we could do something fun. I'm hopeful my technique worked at least a little because I heard Sarah telling Patrick if he messed up his room "mommy will be mad and then...no pool!"


Dear Lord, Please don't ever tease me with a nap again. It's just not right. Amen.

Last Thursday my hubby and I packed up the truck and headed to South FL for our niece's wedding. On Friday the five of us donned our swimsuits and went to the beach first thing in the morning. Just us, towels, sunblock, and the beach-that is definitely the happiest I can get (okay, okay...Disney World is a tie).

The rest of the weekend passed; visited family and went out to eat quite a bit. The wedding was on Sunday and our plan was to leave early Monday morning as Rick had to work that night. I dressed the kids and they looked extremely cute in their fancy clothes. I made sure to take lots of photos so I would always remember just how sweet they were at this age.

Five minutes before we left the wedding venue I looked down at the table where I had laid my phone literally two minutes prior...GONE. We had no choice but to give up searching; it was obviously stolen and not coming back. I bawled the entire way back to my mother-in-law's house. Sobbing like I haven't in a very long time. It wasn't the loss of the $500 iPhone, not the money that was lost in apps and music. It was the pictures. All of them just....gone. My youngest child's memories from the time of his birth...just gone. Like they had never happened. I am an idiot and haven't backed up my phone in ages so there is no way to recover them. The only pictures I have of precious moments with my baby are on Facebook. There were so many on my phone that I never shared on Facebook-his first smile, first tooth, first skinned knee, first EVERYTHING. We never think we will forget, but we do. All those little moments that make up motherhood. Siblings sharing hugs, chocolate-covered faces, playing in the rain. Things that would not interest your "friends" online, but that meant the world to you as a mom. They fade in your memory; that's why we take photos. I have not gotten over it yet.

Thanks to that loser taking my property I was also locked out of my e-mail and Facebook accounts. So there I was: no phone, no e-mail, nothing! Literally completely cut off from everyone! I didn't know what to do-I was used to constantly being connected. I had become one of those people who are dependent on technology-I don't know anyone's phone number or e-mail address by heart; in the past I could recite dozens of contacts...not anymore. My phone contained my ENTIRE life. It was a wake-up call. When I laid down at night I would pray, "Please God, I NEED my stuff back-bring it back!" After the fist couple of nights my prayer changed to, "Thank you God for forcing me to realize how I have been managing my life. I wish you could have picked a cheaper way, but...thanks."

After days of pleading with Yahoo they agreed to grant me access to my account. From there I was able to get into my FB and look at the pictures that I no longer have. I was taught a valuable lesson: BACK UP YOUR PHOTOS!! Once they are gone they are GONE-forever. Also, while it is fun and convenient to be connected at all times, it is all too easy to get wrapped up in it. That week without the ability to be online was awful! I felt lost!! But my kids and I spent more time together. Don't get me wrong-I spend ALL of my time with my kids. However, it was different because I knew there was no use in wandering over to the laptop. I didn't have a phone to turn on and zone out with. So our time was uninterrupted. I don't spend much time online at one sitting. It's too dangerous in this house. But I do check my phone a lot...maybe out of boredom with the daily hum-drum, maybe because I am lonely. Whatever the reason, I never thought much of it until I wasn't able to do it and I saw how much I accomplished.

I really do try my best to engage with my children: we build hotels with blocks, finger paint, bake cookies, all of those fun things. But this past week I went through clothes, caught up the laundry, cleaned closets. Simplified.

I did replace my iPhone. (YIPPEE!) But now it will just be an awesome, fun phone...not a distraction from the things I am trying to avoid in my life.

Chasing Batman

Two days ago we took my younger cousin back-to-school shopping at Target. We ran into someone we know from church and he pointed to the ceiling and said, "Look!"...so we looked. There was a huge black bat flying frantically around in the corner.

Patrick immediately screamed, "BATMAN!!" and ran across the store. I had to grab the baby (who now weighs more than a quarter of my own weight!) and run after him while dragging Sarah by the arm. I got nervous because Patrick was out of sight, but it didn't last long since I could follow the shrieks of "BATMAN! LOOK!! BATMAN!!!" When I caught up to my son the bat had clearly realized it was in his best interest to vanish because it was nowhere to be seen. It really made Patrick's day. :)

I am writing a blog post because I am so mad at my heathens right now and posting may be therapeutic.



I have been locked in a battle of wills with Sarah and Patrick all morning, and now, all afternoon. I want them to start helping me out more now that I've started homeschooling (YAY!), plus they are old enough to know how to take a more active/helpful role in our home. So their chore was to clean up the playroom. I have that room set up perfectly-everything has a place. They know where each and every toy belongs. It would have taken them less than 30 minutes to clean the room had they just gotten it over with. But nope; they have gone between just sitting there glaring at me to throwing the toys around to playing with the stuff and making an even bigger mess. All of those things, by the way, are fine with me. I don't care what they do as long as at some point they finish the chore themselves.



It is 2 pm and the room is completely trashed. It was only mildly messy when they started. It is killing me-usually by now I would have gone in there and done it all myself in a few minutes and we would be outside in the pool. But for some reason I decided it HAD to be this way today and now I can't go back on it because it will set me up for future failures. Me and my stupid ideas.



A neighbor knocked on our door so I went outside so I could chat. While I was outside (a grand total of 5-10 minutes) the little punks went into my bathroom, threw water balloons at the ceiling, opened my very favorite coconut scented lotion and squirted it all over the floor and themselves, and then came outside laughing hysterically. In their underwear. Covered with several feminine products that were glued to their bodies by my very favorite coconut scented lotion.



I couldn't decide which I wanted more: to die or to kill them. I don't know what the neighbors think ( I can guess!), but I shooed them inside and spanked their heinies and while I was cleaning up the mess in my bathroom I banished them to the playroom to finish "cleaning". I straightened up as fast as I could because I know from previous experiences my children get on a roll...in the time it takes to clean up one mess they can have another, much more impressive, disaster in another room. It was then that I noticed their "fort". They had raw baking potatoes and pudding under the bunk beds along with unopened bags of popcorn. I thought that was a rather odd choice of food to hide, but I learned long ago not to think too much about the weird things my children do because it makes me self-conscience. :)

Oh no-it's quiet...I can't write anymore.



I should have gone to church.

Update: My Tree

Sadly, my gardenia did not survive the tractor mauling. The leaves are all brown and it leans painfully sideways now matter how many times I adjust the stake which is supposed to support it upright. Thanks, daughter!

I Need More Sleep

I just put a nasty trash bag inside the laundry room and threw away a load of laundry needing to be washed. It didn't even dawn on me till I went into the utility room to put the clothes in the washer and saw the garbage bag in the place where the clothes would have been. So I had to go out to the big cans and dig out our clothes, yuck! The neighbors already think I'm a few cards short of a deck so I'm not worried what they were thinking. It's official: I am NOT getting enough rest. haha! I'm getting tired of making these mistakes; putting milk in the oven and the coffee in the fridge...sigh.

Ahhh...Springtime!

It's so nice outside. This is the three weeks of the year here in Florida before the real heat arrives that we can air the house and survive leaving the AC off...butterflies flutter from azalea to wisteria...children are able to sprint through the sprinklers and blow bubbles in the backyard. It's truly God showing off; giving us just enough beauty to make up for the harsh cold weather we recently endured.
And did I mention the pollen? The boogie noses and yellow cars, the pool we painstakingly clean in preparation for the upcoming months just to watch helplessly as pollen clogs the filter...ah, yes-Spring is here.

We recently went to Home Depot and picked out some potted plants to put in the yard (we have tried seeds and tiny flowers in the past, but they just don't hold up well between the cats, kids, and my neglect). Whilst we were debating which plants were prettiest a gardenia tree caught my eye. It was beautiful-still a baby, but I saw it in the future-tall and strong and in full bloom; there is no comparison to the sweet smell of gardenia...I was intimidated by it youthfulness, you have to understand-I can kill artificial plants. Rick was intimidated by the 30 dollar price sticker, but I got my way and we came home with a cute gardenia tree for the front yard.

We planted it that evening-I carefully chose the perfect spot where I could see it from my kitchen window, since I spend so much time there. I felt a little silly, being so excited about a tree...Then I realized I don't care if it's silly: it's a little baby tree that I get to take care of and it's beautiful, and it's mine. So there.

Each night for the next week I went outside just after dusk after the kids were sleeping soundly and the dishes had been cleaned up and the laundry had..well, had been crammed into the utility room where I could continue to ignore it...I turned the hose on and diligently watered my very own tree, taking care to make sure all the leaves got a drink and saturating the ground all around the fragile little trunk. It made me happy for some reason I really don't know. I'm not exactly a nature girl. I hate bugs, I don't like sweat, all that, but this little tree brought me happiness.

A few afternoons ago I had the doors opened as usual so I could listen to the kids playing. I keep a close eye on them since we live in a subdivision where there are cars driving by. I heard the battery-powered ride-on tractor going and Luke was playing with Tupperware contentedly at my feet. It was a very peaceful day. Imagine my dismay when I glanced out the kitchen window and watched as my daughter plowed over my helpless, innocent tree with her tractor. I yelled out the window, "SARAH-STOP!", but it was too late. And I stood there for a moment too long-in shock-as she swerved around and took aim again, flattening the pitiful plant for a second time.

I flew outside and used every ounce of willpower that I had to NOT pick her up by her hair and throttle her. The smug, satisfied expression on her face just added insult to injury. I promptly gave Patrick a turn on the tractor (with strict instructions to stay the heck away from my tree!) and brought Sarah into the carport for a swat on the backside, which didn't phase her one bit.

It is uncertain whether the gardenia will live or die at press time. Say a prayer.

Patrick had a little bug two nights ago. Poor guy went to sleep and I didn't think anything was wrong. About 15 minutes after I FINALLY laid my poor, sorry head down I heard scuffling, which I knew was Patrick making a spot in our bed. Then I heard coughing...followed by puking. Ugh. So I picked him up and pretty much threw him in the bathroom and made him stand there over the toilet while I picked out new jammies for him and got new sheets for the bed. I put a towel underneath his head and nervously went back to sleep. (By "nervously went back to sleep" I mean I laid down wide-eyed and waited for the next incident.)

This whole scenario took about 30 minutes...meanwhile my hubby was just laying there "sound asleep". I literally had to push him over to get the sheets off/back on. Of course he wasn't asleep-who could sleep through that!? Grrrr. But I played along and let him act oblivious.

About 45 minutes later it happened-then about every 45 minutes for the rest of the night. Yesterday morning he was okay, although he did throw up a couple more times. YAY! I think we are officially in the clear now. Now I'm just praying he keeps those germs to himself and doesn't spread it to the rest of the family. I'm not sure my husband would survive until morning if I had 3 puking kids at one time and he "slept" through it all.

Since the sickness had run it's course I figured we could make bird feeders as a way to get outside and have fun without over-doing it. Making bird feeders is fun and easy...in theory. We simply spread peanut butter on some pine cones and hang them from the little tree in our front yard. Sounds cute, right? WRONG!! We spread peanut butter not only on the pine cones, but on ourselves, the driveway, the kids' hair, the side of the car, the cat who stupidly walked up to see what we were doing. Baby Luke grabbed the pinecones and threw them everywhere so they were covered in dirt and leaves instead of bird seed (no wonder the birds seem unimpressed!). I would have taken photos, but I feared for my camera's life.

We had some birdseed in a plastic bag and we stuck the pine cones in the bag, Shake-n-Bake style. That was simple enough, but in the end we attracted more birds to the grass then to our feeders.

It was fun despite the chaos and mess. By far the most fun I've ever had with a jar of peanut butter. Tomorrow we're making crayons!! Too bad we can't do that outside...

A Boy Thing...??

I am stumped:
Patrick has been having a lot of "accidents" lately. He gets so wrapped up in what he's doing that by the time he realizes he has to go...it's too late. That's cool, I can handle that-I simply remind him more often and make him take breaks from playing to go potty. But the other day he surprised me by going to the bathroom all by himself! YAY, Patrick!! When he emerged he declared: "I peed in my hair!". Umm, what?

Clearly I was disgusted and scrubbed him in the tub. The whole time I kept asking myself, Do other kids pee on their heads? How does one manage to pee in one's hair? I went over the scenario in my mind many times and never came up with an answer. (Except I think I was supposed to be a mother to GIRLS!!)