Late Night Rambling

1 - Why am I awake right now?

2 - I'm waiting to see what happens when large chunks of ice break off and make their way through the entire central air system.

3 - I'm pretending to be away at an expensive spa - in the freaking sauna.

4 - I'm wondering if anyone has ever gotten away with murder because the heat made them legally insane.

5 - I'm wondering why my husband can do these amazing things with computers, play the guitar and operate complicated machinery and yet, somehow, doesn't understand that it's not a good idea to leave a bag of ice on the kitchen counter when the air conditioner is malfunctioning.

6 - I'm also wondering how in the hell I survived my entire childhood without so much as a box fan. Now? A few hours without AC? I'm a raving lunatic. (As opposed to the regular, everyday, run of the mill lunatic)

7 - Uh, it's over 90 freaking degrees. And I'm dealing with an ICE problem. WTF!?!

8 - How the hell is it possible that I'm paying the cable company $100 per month and there's NOTHING to watch?

9 - How many times can I justify eating something frozen because it's hot in here?

10 - Heh. Turns out, the answer to number 9 is "Lots." I'm hitting the ice cream.

More Good News

My weekend is looking better and better!

Pennies Off The Menu For Kids


Kids Swallowing Pennies


Golden Pennies


When Kids Swallow Things: Guideline for Parents

$100.01

...and a week's worth of fun.

Yes, folks. For merely $100.01 and I've been given the opportunity to study the bodily functions of my 6 year old for an entire week. Woo-hoo!

Where - exactly - in the Mom Brochure did they list Poop Disection? Really. I want to know. Is it in the same paragraph as Vomit Catching?

My gifted 6 year old - the one who stuns people with his ability to do complex math in his head while waiting in line at Wawa - the one who taught himself to read at age 4 - the one I'm counting on to make the big bucks so he can take care of me in my old age - well, he owes me $100.01 for being stupid.

Apparently, on our way home from a family ice cream trip, the boys decided to fight over a penny they found on the backseat. The penny had fallen out of my purse this afternoon while we were running errands, and they thought they had struck gold. In an effort to make his little brother cry, P decided to hide the penny. When he couldn't reach his pocket, he decided the most logical place to stash the treasure was his mouth. Guess what happened next. Go ahead. It's not that difficult.

So, an hour, an x-ray and $100 ER copay later, we were told the penny had successfully reached his stomach and we just needed to wait for it to pass. Yay! I was wondering what we could do for fun this weekend! Poop scavenger hunts!

The kicker? He had the time of his life at the children's hospital that's close to us. The staff there was really great -- too great. We had a young male nurse who raced P down the hall and back, the x-ray tech let him play with the x-ray machine and they had a ton of things to keep the kids entertained. The x-ray tech turned to me at one point and said, "Wow. At this rate, he'll be swallowing pennies left and right to come back and play!"

Wonderful.

My Little Artist

MarkerBoy
Originally uploaded by supermomisdead.

This is why I didn't finish my yard work today. Funny thing about washable markers... they still scare the hell out of you when you see your sofa covered in orange, red and yellow splotches.

Searches, Snores and Sarcasm

I'm fairly certain that I'm on my way to becoming the smartest person in the world.

Lately, I've acquired an amazing amount of new information. Really - it's just astonishing how much I know. Go ahead. Hate me. I'll add researching human emotions to my list of Google searches.

You may wonder how I could be so sure of my upcoming superior intelligence. It's simple really. Most of you are wasting precious study time by actually *sleeping* at night. Not me! I'm acquiring the answers to life's questions one search engine at a time. Why, last night alone I managed to identify all of the trees and foliage on our property *and* figure out what type of infestation I had in one of my flower beds.

My studying is not only increasing my brainpower - it's preventing crime, too! Really! It's true!

Last night, as I lay in bed listening to my husband's unconscious rendition of a jackhammer, I was stricken with an overwhelming desire to smother him. Luckily, when you hit the 3rd straight day of less than 4 hours of sleep, inanimate objects start to speak to you. While I was fluffing up the pillow, I heard my computer calling my name, urging me to reconsider. So, thank you Apple. Thank you Google. Because of you, I'll avoid The Big House a bit longer.

Love Letters to My Husband

My 6 year old is constantly leaving little notes around our house. Some are meant for us to see and others are just the insane ramblings of an evil genius. He also has this weird (and somewhat annoying) habit of writing his questions down on paper, thrusting them in my face and staring at me, expressionless, until I respond. Yeah, I guess it's cute in a wow-my-kid-is-creepy kind of way, but sometimes I wish he'd just spit it the hell out.

So, while I was picking up assorted pieces of paper and grumbling to myself, I started to question where he picked up this annoying habit. It suddenly occurred to me that - yet again - mom was to blame. I have about 40 bazillion little post it notes with instructions, dates, grocery lists, to-do lists, etc stashed all over the freaking place. I used to leave to-do lists on the fridge for my husband and I'd get incredibly irritated when they'd still be there months later, with nothing scratched off. We talked about his inability to actually read something written out by hand and determined that he was no longer capable of reading anything that wasn't in some type of electronic format. So, I started emailing him things to do.

My husband is a computer guy. His business partners are computer guys. His entire business *is* computers and every bit of communication is saved in a ridiculously large email file system, including the nastiest of spam. So, the little "Don't forget to call the dentist!" messages would get dumped into his "Nagging from the Wife" folder and were quickly forgotten. The email solution was not achieving the desired effect.

That brings us to the wonderful world of IM. In an instant, I can remind him of all the stupid little things he's supposed to do during the course of a day. I'm sure he views this as quite the mixed blessing! The sad part of this whole set up is that we are always in the same building! The office he works from 99.9% of the time is in our basement. You'd think such things could be communicated as we passed each other at the coffee pot. Nope. A good bit of our communication takes place courtesy of IM software. It's the most efficient and reliable method of delivering reminders, requests and "What do you want for dinner?" and lets me send him links to interesting articles I've read while I was supposed to be feeding our children.

So, I guess it's no wonder my 6 year old is writing us messages. The poor kid needs a laptop!

Water Torture

I finally gave in to the whining and bought one of those EZ Set Pools over the weekend. After getting it all set up and spending about a bazillion bucks on assorted pool chemicals that will no doubt damage the developing brains of my children, I was looking forward to watching my boys splash around all day. I had visions of lounging around in the shade, reading books and drinking frozen cocktails while my little angels splashed around gleefully in the expensive glorified tub that doubles as a grass killer.

Reality, as usual, is so dreadfully different. We made a conscious effort to buy the pool that was 3 feet deep so the 3 year old could stand up in it easily. As it turns out, there is some in-born mechanism that requires him to curl up his legs as soon as the water level reaches his chest. The result - he sinks like a stone and swallows buckets of water and we have to resort to sponge baths for the next week.

The good news is - we now have an audience. I've become acutely aware of just how many people can see directly into our backyard. It's amazing how the blood-curdling screams of a preschooler have the power to summon the entire neighborhood to their backyard fences in under 10 seconds. Yes, my dear husband. I admit it - the stockade fencing is a *fabulous* idea. Can we look into a sound-proofed glass dome, too? It'll be like one big greenhouse...

At least the 6 year old has learned that he can actually get his face wet and *not* die. It's only taken us the entire 6 years he's been alive to convince him of that fact. It's amazing what happens after you (literally) throw him into the pool enough times.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

And then - you come home.

Now, I think I may have mentioned that I'm a bit neurotic about cleaning and organization. I've been trying to tone it down a bit, but hey - it's a work in progress. For instance, usually, when I would go away for a weekend (or longer), I would drive myself insane trying to make the house "perfect" before I left. This meant, that in addition to packing everything we needed for the trip, I would also have to do *all* of the laundry, dishes, mop the floors, clean the bathrooms, vacuum... you get the idea. The basic purpose was to allow me to come home to a clean house and not have to jump back into the grind. The new "toned down" version skipped the whole floor mopping thing, didn't worry too much about putting all toys, etc away. I still did all of the laundry (hey - I needed clothes to pack anyway!) and made sure that all of the dirty dishes were in the dishwasher, which I ran as I walked out the door.

What I forgot to factor in, was that my husband has this need to wallow around in his own filth.

We left Friday - think he emptied the dishwasher? NO.

Did he take care of the pile of dishes he created while I was gone? NO.

Did he make sure to leave our bedroom neat, make the bed or even hang up his damned wet towel?!?!?! NO!

Let me tell you what he *DID* do.

First, he made sure that I would be unable to trace the mystery stench in the kitchen.

Second, he emptied out the coffee pot and grounds into my WHITE ENAMEL SINK and on top of the assorted dishes he stacked 10 stories high in there. He didn't rinse it - even a bit - and I now have a *brown-streaked* enamel sink, despite asking him about a million times to PLEASE make sure he rinses the sink after he makes coffee. He always says, "I did rinse it," and looks astonished when I point out the stray coffee beans and brown puddles hiding around the plates he ignores. *&%#%@^ jerk! Does he think we have stock in Comet cleanser?!?!?!?! Let's not forget how much it hurts my bad wrist to scrub that shit out over and over and over...

[Note to self: Call the damned wrist specialist tomorrow!]

Third, ever crawl into bed and find a cold, damp yuck from a wet towel that was left behind?

Fourth - and I almost missed this one. Luckily, my ridiculous addiction to carbonated beverages helped me find this one. There is some disgusting, sticky substance on my kitchen floor that is virtually undetectable to the naked eye. Bare feet however...

GRRRRRR!!!

And to think that I went out of my way to make sure he had plenty of convenience food and homemade frozen meals.

I can't wait until he goes on his business trip at the end of the month. I feel a sudden need to pull another secret covert Goodwill mission. And his pile o'junk is ripe for the picking.

He's been saved!!

Hallelujah, hallelujah!

Picture this:

I'm sitting in front of my computer, fresh from punishing P. (6yrs) - a.k.a. He Who Broke Mommy's Expensive Scanner - grr...

In walks the child recently dropped to #2 on my shit list...

He says, "Mommy! I found Jesus!"

Now, it took a second for me to process what he said before I actually stopped what I was doing to turn around.

Sure enough - he proudly showed me the crucifix I had packed away from my father's funeral.

Yes, J. You certainly did find Jesus. :) You may need him sooner than you think if you repeat the events of yesterday.

Tinted Glass and Soundproofed Walls

The latest in home decor, you know.

We just bought our house last July and I'm still in the process of painting the plain white walls, finding the proper furnishings and well - nesting, I guess. Today, while sifting through the pile of paint colors and matching them up to assorted items throughout the house, I had an epiphany.

Now, I can't take credit for this epiphany. Oh no. That lies with my younger son. He is truly the inspiration behind this. I'm thinking that we should skip the paint completely and try the upholstered wall thing. (Hey, they did it on Trading Spaces, right?) Anyway - the key is to upholster soundproofed padding with fabric the colors of the paints I've been considering. Sure, they won't be very forgiving when the ketchup flies, but they will drown out the screams *and* provide a safe surface suitable for banging my head.

Ever have those parenting moments when you sort of just step out of your body for a minute and observe yourself from a distance and think, "Holy crap. This mom's nuts. Someone should really take these kids away, pronto!" ?? Or is that just me? You know - the times when you pray to God your neighbors are away so they didn't hear what you just said to your little angels? I hope those children and youth officials weren't just peeking in the window...

I guess I figured I'd be able to roll with the punches a bit better than I've been the last few months. Child and adolescent development was WHAT I DID before children. I was GOOD at it. They never tell you that there's no training in the world to train you for your own flesh and blood. I swear - sharing genetic code with someone should make it easier, shouldn't it? I mean, they are part of ME for crying out loud. Shouldn't I know what makes them tick? Just my luck. They both got the assorted crazy parts of their parents/grandparents/ancestors.

My little guy (3 at the end of this month) has been potty trained for over a month. He did really, really well until a few days ago. One accident has led to a consistent refusal to use the potty for anything more than a quick sprinkle.

-Now, to be fair - if you thought that was too much information, you should stop reading now!-

I *know* about regression and setbacks. I *know* that he's not quite 3. I *know* that sometimes boys have a more difficult time than girls. Know what? I also *know* that this little demon is doing this out of a need for control. I'm in a freaking power struggle with my preschooler. Two control freaks going head-to-head is NOT pretty. Especially when one of us is already officially nuts.

I've been pretty tolerant and Susie Sunshine about the 'accidents' until today. Today was just too much. It all became crystal clear before my eyes. He thinks it's FUNNY to make me clean up after him. He actually laughed when he told me he pooped in his pants. Not just a nervous little, "Uh-oh! Look at that! I forgot to go to the potty!" kind of laugh. It was an ultra-devious, "Yes! My master plan is unfolding!" kind of laugh. So, I took him into the bathroom and said, "You know, J, Mommy doesn't like when she has to clean you up and change all of your clothes. Why don't you like going on the potty anymore?"

He laughs at me.

I continue, "Maybe mommy should make J help clean up this mess."

He says, "Uh, YOU are the big mommy. You have to clean up my poop."

The fact that I didn't lock him in his room until he was 25 shows amazing restraint on my part. Typing the words can't begin to express the level of snot-i-tude this kid was exhibiting. For a minute, I caught a glimpse of what 14 is going to be like. It chilled me to the bone...

So, I kept my composure and tried my best to keep the negativity to a minimum, yet let him know that this was not ok with me. I told him to start getting undressed so we could clean up. He took off his socks and his shorts rather gingerly and then moved on to the Spiderman underwear. (Poor Spidey!) He slowly worked them down and stepped out of them carefully so he wouldn't get messy. I was impressed at how well he actually did and started to feel a little bad that I felt so frustrated. Then - he did it. He went too far.

Looking me dead in the eye, my little monster inverted those poopy pants and emptied the contents directly onto the bathroom floor with the most disgusting "Splat!" I've heard in quite some time. "There. Now YOU clean it up, Mom!"

I thought my head was going to split open and unleash my inner demon, right then and there. That was it. I knew I was losing the battle - and I really didn't want to lose the poop control battle. So, I armed my little snot with a roll of toilet paper and made him stay in the bathroom until he cleaned up every. last. spot. Let me tell you - it wasn't pretty. He doesn't like to be messy - but doesn't quite have the manual dexterity to minimize the mess on such a job. It was pretty ugly for awhile. Know what? He cleaned it all up and apologized for doing it in the first place. He also said, "Poop is not funny. I will poop in the potty."

Uh, hello Mommie Dearest! Did you scrub the bathroom floor today?!?!? Did you?!?!?

Maybe we should go with the brown upholstery...