Get me a publisher!

It's been awhile. I have had other things going on. Like life and kids and such. It happens. I have been wandering about inside my head, not sure where the words had gone. I had things to say, to write, to speak. The words seem to evaporate like cotton candy on my tongue, but not as sweet.

Okay, enough of the gooble gobble.

Hubby is away again. It's just me and the monkeys. Yes, I call them monkeys. It is a term of endearment, most of the time.

The other day as the boys were upstairs washing up, brushing teeth, I heard a ruckus. The kind of ruckus that stops me from whatever task is at hand to go check it out and usually there is a task at hand. It goes with the territory. I had to investigate as my motherly instinct would lead me to do. Of course there is always a commotion when all 3 of the boys are together in one area, but this was the hullabaloo that broke the camels....er...mamas...back.

It was more than likely a shove here, a push there, someone took someone's toy. Whatever. These kids fight about what color cup they will have at dinner. "I want the red one! NO! I wanted that one!" Yada, yada, scream, scuttle and more screaming. I really should just buy all same colored cups. Less fights to deal with. Why can't we all just get along? And I go on....

Back to the zoo.....

There is much bickering as I arrive at the top stair. I cannot make out any of it. I demand that each boy meets me at the kitchen table. We shall have a round table discussion on their crisis or in our case a rectangle discussion.

We go around the table, each boy getting a turn to tell his side of the story. Houston, we have a problem.

The event went something like this:

One boy was washing his hands. The other arrived to also wash his hands. We do not have a double sink, so things get tight. The third boy arrived to pee. Apparently he felt the need to turn away from the toilet, point his wee-wee at this brother and proceed to pee on him. And the floor. And the wall. This created a chain reaction of yelling and giggling, then one boy shut the lights off, while the peed on boy closed the door, shutting the pee-er in the closed dark bathroom, fumbling with his shorts around his ankles. Serves him right I would say.


I shake my head at these childish, boyish antics and wonder why it is so that children must act in such ways. I will never know.

I asked my husband if this was normal, because I think it is not. Dear husband says that yes, it's normal. Hmmm. How long has he known these are the things that I am going to have to be faced with?

The things they don't tell you when you are pregnant. I could write a book.

This is about poop. You have been warned

No quarter yet. Elijah says I need to buy him some prunes so that he can poop out the quarter. Today after he ate a big lunch, he says to me: "All that food should have moved that quarter down." The kid is a riot.

I have decided to leave the quarter search up to my hubby. I donned the blue surgical gloves. I sorted through one of Elijahs BMs.


Not

Going

To

Do

That

Again.


I almost puked. Really, it's one thing to wipe a poopy butt, it's another to actually squish poop in your fingers. See? Gross right? Bleh!


I am really not up to the task of poop sorting. Seriously, don't they have some kind of poop sorting machine I could have borrowed from the hospital?

Anyone want a job? I know things are bad in the job market so if you know of anyone......

Okay, bad joke...whatever! It's not like I am a certain comedian wishing people dead. Boo-Yeah!

Hey! Look what I got today!

Who says Mother's Day ends on Sunday?

Seriously, (I say that a lot don't I? Seriously) all of this fruit will surely bring about a 'movement'.

Leave comments. I like that. :)

Any old day?

Mother's Day.

Another day?

Any old day?

Normal Mother's Day? What is that? A normal mother's day. I wonder as I glance down at my green heels. Mowing the grass while wearing flip flops is not recommened unless you want to resemble a leprachaun. Our mower is a beast! As I pushed the mower over the thick tall grass the mowing monster kept stalling. No one told me (until I spoke to hubby on the phone tonight) that one must set the mower wheels to high when first cutting tall grass/weeds. The neighbors have never seen that side of me and with my green feet they may have thought the Hulk had moved in next door.

Normal Mother's day?

Again, I ponder. Is it a dinner with the family, a vase of flowers, a spa package or a few quiet moments which only last until someone stumbles in with their pants at their ankles freaking out because they cannot pull up their pants due to their sweaty legs. It's been hot.

What is the point? Gift me everyday for the job of being a mom. Then I might not cry at odd times (all moms do that right?) when the shit hits the fan and I cannot take anymore of this madhouse. Then I might smile more often and not curse and kick at the lawn mower. Then again, I might cry anyway.

Give me a book and a quiet place so that my brain can recircuit and maybe then I won't forget to inform the lector scheduler at church that my husband won't be there to lector (he's out to sea) so that the priest won't have to leave the alter and retrieve the Holy book himself. Yep! *raising hand* that was me today at mass. A gaggle of restless kids and a moment frozen in time when I see the priest leave the alter and grab the book. As I bent down and picked up the bulletin I knew that my husbands name would be typed next to todays date. I wanted to shrink. I knew 'they' knew my screw up.

Normal Mother's Day?

After mowing the grass I managed to shower before Samantha woke from her nap. A few moments later Elijah comes to me in a complete and utter panic saying that he has a dime stuck in his throat. I stick my finger in and I almost get the coin, but only make matters worse when the 'dime' which was really a quarter went down his throat. He gagged, he made choking sounds, he puked. I called 911.

The EMTS arrive and by thenElijah has calmed down and is sitting on the floor with a puke bucket, still heaving up purplely yuck. Mom on the other hand is still shaking from the realization that she can't DO everything and her child could have choked. EMTs assess the situation and determine that Elijah is going to be fine, but needs an x-ray. When I cannot reach anyone to take the other kids while I go to the ER the EMTs decide to drive 5 year old Elijah over in the ambulance and I would follow. Of course I have to wake the baby, change her and get her ready before I can leave. With all of the kids. Elijah is okay, just has a quarter in his stomach and now mommy has to sift through feces for the next week until the poopy coin comes out. This is the same child who swallowd a dime last year. He might be saving for the future.

Normal Mother's Day? Yes. Indeed it is a normal mother's day.

A sweet homemade pipe cleaner flower in a handpainted paper vase, a folded in half piece of construction paper with drawings of me and the kids and scribble scratches like 'my mommy likes to eat popsicles' and 'I love you mommy' written on it and handed to me with a hug and a kiss.

How could I not stop off at Starbucks on the way home from church and get a Frap for me and marshmellow treats for the kids despite their misbehavior in church?


How can I have moments of doubt and despair over my job of raising kids when they are so pure, their little hearts bigger than the world?




How could I have breathed for so long without them?



Eh, I know. So very touching right?

These kids are getting to me.