New Years Resolutions for my children

I've made New Years Resolutions before. Lots of them. They never seem to work out. I always find myself more motivated for change on my birthday. I think its due to suddenly becoming one year closer to 'old'.....whenever that may be. So this year I have decided to make resolutions for my children instead. I have two reasons for this.1. Maybe making them for someone else will work better than for myself.2. They're too young to know any better.

So here it goes. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

1. Every morning will be brought in as if it were the happiest day ever!
2. On the weekends we will not wake up until after 7am at least unless prompted to do otherwise by mommy.
3. We will play nice with eachother.
4. That screech app that was installed in DD will magically be un-installed.
5. We will finally let mommy poop in peace so she doesn't have to hold it until she goes to work anymore.
6. We will (at the age of 4 and 1) learn how to make the perfect pot of coffee for mommy in the morning.
7. As the only son I will finally stop refusing to wipe my own butt so mommy can having nightmares of poop smeared jeans.
8. From now on when mommy says she is going to make dinner we are going to sit and play quietly in the playroom because we understand that the more we scream at her the longer it takes her to make said dinner.
9. We will finally understand that marshmellows and cookies are not a complete part of your breakfast.
10. We will clean and wash mommys car once a month because we understand that the majority of the mess, especially in the back seat, is caused by us.

Signed sincerely,
The two most perfect angels in all of Connecticut

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I feel bad for husbands!

My mother sent me this in an e-mail yesterday. It's so true and makes me so happy to NOT be a man yet again!

To Be 6 Again!

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching his wife, who was looking at herself in the mirror. Since her birthday was not far off he asked what she'd like to have for her birthday.

'I'd like to be six again', she replied, still looking in the mirror .

On the morning of her Birthday, he arose early, made her a nice big bowl of Lucky Charms, and then took her to Six Flags theme park. What a day! He put her on every ride in the park; the Death Slide, the Wall of Fear, the Screaming Roller Coaster, everything there was.

Five hours later they staggered out of the theme park. Her head was reeling and her stomach felt upside down. He then took her to a McDonald's where he ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a chocolate shake.

Then it was off to a movie, popcorn, a soda pop, and her favorite candy, M&M's. What a fabulous adventure!

Finally she wobbled home with her husband and collapsed into bed exhausted.

He leaned over his wife with a big smile and lovingly asked, 'Well Dear, what was it like being six again?'

Her eyes slowly opened and her expression suddenly changed. 'I meant my dress size, you f---ing retard!!!!'

The moral of the story: Even when a man is listening, he is gonna get it wrong.

Someone injected evil into my children, I know it.

This is what I'm picturing. My kids are sleeping soundly in their beds. All is quiet in the house. Despite having the doors locked a little troll finds its way into the house through the drier vent. Up the stairs he creeps and into Pheobe's room first. Because it is a crib all he has to do is reach his stubby arm through the side. He takes out a large syringe filled with green Goo and squirts it in her nose. This way you can't tell the difference between the Goo and the boogers. He then sneaks down the hall to Theo's room. He has to climb on the bed to get to Theo because its a full sized bed. He does the same thing in Theo's nose as he did Pheobe. Then the little bastard sneaks back down stairs. And just like pulling a fire alarm as he shoots up the vent he wakes the kids.

And that's how it happens. That's how a sleeping mommy who is dreaming of sun filled days on a beach on Maui is suddenly faced with 2 screaming children who won't stop.2 screaming children who she swears have red eyes and are talking in tongues.

The rest of a day that starts like that is spent trying to figure out the right words for an add on Craigslist. The add would be how I can sell myself as a mail order bride to an old man in his 80's who can't even get it up anymore. If you thought I was going to sell my children you were wrong. That's highly illegal and I would never do such a thing. I would rather get post cards from family members begging me to come back and take care of my demon children.

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Step One

In need of a little inspiration for my journey.

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What's going to get me through the next 8 months.....

What he said......

What I said........

This is begining to be a problem.......

I haven't pooped in 3 days. I'm 100% serious. Don't get me wrong, I've tried. Numerous times. Epic fail every time. It goes a little something like this:


9:00am: Kids are soaked into a movie. I slowly back out of the living room.
9:01am: Exit complete. Commence tip toeing down the hall.
9:02am: Slowly open the bathroom door and gently close it behind me. Quietly lift toilet seat.
9:03am: Down go the pants and my butt tenderly makes contact with the toilet seat.
9:03am: DS "MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
9:03am: DD "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"
9:03am: DS comes bursting through the door.
9:04am: DS "Mommy, DD looked at me!"
9:04am: Me "Really?"
9:04am: DD comes bursting through the door with buggers smudged across her face and slams the door shut behind her.
9:05am: DD throws herself on the floor at my feet, new snot bubble forming and taking over her face.
9:05am: Stupid cat commences scratching at the door frame to get in. heaven forbid he miss the party.
9:05am: DS opens the door for said cat as 2 others follow right behind him.
9:06am: Why the hell is there a cat now sitting on my shoulders sniffing my ear? (true story)
9:06am: Me "Now DS, what happened?"
9:06am: DS "Huh?"
9:06am: Me "Between you and your sister. What happened?"
9:06am: DS "Can you color with me?"
9:07am: Commence looking for sharp object to shove in my eye.
9:07am: DD gets up and tries to look behind me into the toilet.
9:07am: Big fat cat jumps on my lap.
9:08am: DS "Mommy!"
9:08am: Me "What?"
9:08am: A little hand pushes on my back.
9:08am: DS "Color with me!"
9:09am: Me "Does it look like I can color right now?"
9:09am: DS "Do you want me to go get the crayons?"
9:09am: Me "You want to color in the bathroom?"
9:09am: DS "Uh huh, you're in here." *smiles*
9:09am: DD tries to stick her hand in the toilet by my butt. Um no, nice try.
9:10am: Me "I will color with you when I'm done. For crying out loud DD get your hand out of my butt!"
9:10am: DD "Poo poo."
9:10am: Me "Yes baby, poo poo."
9:10am: DS "Mommy, are you done yet?"
9:10am: *big mommy sigh*
9:10am: Me "Mother of pearl!" as I shake the cat who is clawing on for dear life off my back.
9:11am: Me "Yes. I'm done."
9:11am: I wipe out of habit and pull my pants up.
9:11am: DS looks into the toilet.
9:11am: DS "Mommy! Where did your poop go?"

Eleven minutes spent on the toilet. Not a single poop made it to its watery grave. Tell me, where in those eleven minutes did I actually have time to even get a single poop out? 3 days it's been like this. Tomorrow is day number 4. Wish me luck or send me an enema. I'm gonna need it.

Postpartum Depression

My 19 month old daughter has been home sick for the past two days with some mysterious cough.  This time together without my 4 year old has given me a lot of extra moments of reflection.  As I look at my little lady bird I can't help but feel my heart warm.  She is growing up so quickly, i can hardly keep up.  Before I know it she is going to the 4 year old and there wont be a 19 month old.  I smile at the thought of watching her grow and explore the world.  But it wasn't always like this.  There was a time when I couldn't even look at her without welling up with spite and (I hate to say it) mystery. This time wasn't so long ago.

I wanted a girl so bad before I got pregnant.  I loved my son with all my heart and couldn't imagine my life without him, but couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if I had a little girl.  When I got pregnant for the second time I would pray every night that this one would be a girl.  I wished and wished and wished. When we finally went in for the 19 week ultra sound I held my breath as the technician checked the sex. "It's a girl!" My best friend and I did a little happy dance and talked of tutus and bows as my husband sunk into the floor in fear. I couldn't believe that all my wishing and praying paid off!

The fact that I was having a girl ended up causing some issues at home.  My husband was afraid to have sex with me because he didn't like the idea of his penis being so close to his daughter's head.  He had mood swings due to panic caused by the thought of men hitting on his daughter.  Through all this I smiled and continued to dream of tutus and hair bows. I had picked out the perfect little flowered jumper for her to come home from the hospital in and daydreamed about bringing her home.

Two days after I reached 37 weeks I went into labor.  13 hours later that beautiful little girl I had been waiting to see came into the world.  When they handed her to me I could have sworn I was looking at my son, and it made me smile.  3 days later we were on our way home.

Heading home should have made me overjoyed and excited.  I should have been ready to jump into the car and head out to start this new chapter in my life.  Instead I almost broke down into tears as I left the little room on the 3rd floor of the hospital. I remember looking at my car and wanting to vomit. Then I looked at my husband and then my daughter and could feel nothing but anger. By the time we got to our friend's house to pick up my son I was almost coming out of my skin with anxiety.  I didn't want to do this anymore.  Having a second child was a mistake, please God take her back.

The first two weeks home were a blur.  We were in the middle of moving and it was my job to get the boxes packed.  I would find myself sitting in the middle of the couch looking back and forth between my new daughter, the boxes, and my son and then crying.  I couldn't find the motivation to do anything, I didn't WANT to do anything.

By the time we moved I was miserable. I couldn't look at my daughter without being angry and crying. I seriously didn't want her but knew that I didn't have a choice. I didn't enjoy breast feeding her like i did with my son. I wanted her to be done eating as soon as she would start.  I never once looked down at her as she nursed quietly and smiled. In fact, I barely looked at her at all.  By the time she was three weeks old the kids and I went to Maine to spend a few weeks with my parents.  Instead of it getting better it got worse.  I would wake up to my daughter crying and I too would start to cry.  Every chance I got behind closed doors I cried.

I called my husband every day and begged him to come pick me up and bring me home. But he refused. He told me to stick it out and he would be there soon, but I had to stay there. He was not coming. By the time he got there when I would hold my daughter it wasn't even a real hold. It was almost as if I was waiting for someone or something to just float her out of my arms and away from me.  We returned to Connecticut a few days later and my husband was back at work. I was for the first time, alone with both children all day. I cried.....all day, and the next day, and the next day, and every day following for 4 months.

My midwife told me it was postpartum depression but not to the point where I needed to be put on medication. Instead she told me to start taking my Omega-3's. I call them happy fats. All I wanted was for someone to make me stop resenting my daughter. It was a nightmare. Every day was filled with hate and discontent. So I started taking my happy fats and working out. 3 more months went by. Over that time I could feel the clouds lift a little more each day until the day I went to get my daughter out of her crib and looked to down and saw an angel.

It almost felt like over night my life had meaning again. For the first time since my daughter was first put into my arms I smiled at her. But then came the guilt. I hadn't been nearly as attentive as I should have been. I had actually wanted this tiny person to go away every day for nine whole months. I hadn't spent the time with her to help her sit up or roll over. I had stopped breast feeding when she was 5 months old mainly because I didn't want her close to me anymore.

But here she was that cold winters morning like a ray of sunshine. Since that day I can't help but look at my daughter in amazement. Somehow she lived through all that. I can never get those first 9 months of her life back to do over again, but I can hold her close now and be there for the rest of her life. She is beautiful.

Supporting my fellow US Military Veterans

I know I usually blog about my kids, but I'm kind of proud of myself today and want to spread the word to support your military and veterans.

I work in the Veterans Services Office at the college I go to.  It pays like shit ($8.25/hr) and it's only 25 hours a week, but it gives me a chance to reach out to my fellow US Military Veterans and give them support and a place to be themselves. It also gives me a chance to be part of the Veterans Club and reach out to other veterans not at the college. We recently had a magazine drive for the local Veterans Hospital and made it into the school president's newsletter. It's small thing, but it's a big deal to me knowing that the little things I do and the shitty pay I get for doing them are all worth it in the end. Here is the article that was in the news letter.

Veterans Club collects 1,400 magazines for hospital


GCC’s Veterans Club recently delivered an estimated 1,400 magazines collected over the summer to the VA Medical Center – West Haven where they will be placed in waiting rooms for patients and their families.
The VA Medical Center-West Haven includes an inpatient and Ambulatory Care Center that provide health care for thousands of veterans who have served in conflicts going back as far as World War II through today’s operations in Afghanistan and Iraq.
“Fourteen boxes were collected in all, including eight that were saved from recycling and donated by the great staff at Gateway’s library,” said Rick Palinko (USMC), a veterans certifying official at GCC and organizer of the magazine drive.

Three club members (left to right in photo) helped Palinko deliver the magazines: liberal arts student Oscar Rodriguez (USMC); dietetics technology student Brandi Vassiliou (U.S. Coast Guard), and graphic design student Rob Johnson (U.S. Army).
Palinko said anyone who supports our military can join the Veterans Club by visiting Room 107 on our Long Wharf campus.

Mommy, I would never.......

I woke up an hour late this morning and didn't even have time to make a full pot of coffee. Because I decided to partake in some finer things in life last night I didn't make the kid's lunches before I went to bed, or mine for that matter. When I woke up I rolled over to find my 3yr old son's head just peaking over the top of the quilt and the big sun starting to peak over the trees. The sun should NOT be peaking over the trees at 5am! WTF is going on? I look at my phone and my alarm is silently buzzing away on the night stand. It has been for the past hour! I shot out of bed and proceeded to start a crazy morning that was no where near promising to be a good one.

I'm not sure how I did it, but I somehow managed to get all the lunches packed, one cup of coffee made (it tasted horrible), the kids dressed and fed, out the door.......3 minutes early! I was, however, still a bit frazzled on the drive to the daycare/preschool.

We had the radio on as usual mindlessly listen to the morning djs.  Today they were talking about things you would never do for the sake of your job. After 7 1/2 years in the military and working with vets on a daily basis now, there were many things that popped into my head that a soldier/airman/sailor would do that others wouldn't.  This covered everything from taking a bullet to streaking. My mind was totally off in another world remember my days in the Coast Guard.

My daydream was suddenly interupted by that little 3yr old whos head had been peaking out from under the quilt this morning. "Mommy, I would NEVER jump out of a space ship!" I couldn't help but laugh even though he was so serious. "I think that's a great idea Theo." was my response. "I know mommy." he said so matter-of-factly. And continued to nod his little head as he looked out the car window.

Then I thought to myself, "There is nothing I wouldn't do for the sake of my job as a mother."

I Think I'm Done With Pee

In my house, aside from 2 devil possessed children, there are 4 fantastically furry cats. The two oldest are brother and sister, and I regret to say that they managed to have a litter together before they could get fixed. But that’s totally normal in the animal kingdom right? Right? Any who, the other two are mother and son. The mother came to us as a knocked up alley cat. Her name, Putana. It’s Greek for slut. Perfect.
After Putana came into the house and decided to give birth under my couch my oldest female decided that was the perfect time to start peeing……on everything. She pees on toys, dishes, backpacks, bathmats, blankets, clean clothes, dirty clothes……..me. You name it, she has peed on it. I was dealing ok with it until she peed on my last week.
I heard scratching in the kids playroom so I poked my head in to see what was going on. There she was with her furry butt in the box of Thomas the Train toys. I flew across the room and snatched her up! Did you know that cats, much like infants, don’t stop peeing when you pick them up? Neither did I. I looked down and saw yellow cat pee running down my leg onto my foot (so glad I don’t wear shoes in the house). We zip through the toy room, through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the laundry room where the cat box is. She was done by the time we got there, and there was a nice long stream following us through all the rooms.
“This is the last straw, you’re done!” I yelled. One week later and she’s still here.
After the shock of being peed on wore off and a shower was had, it was time for bed. All minions were tucked in for the night and I was on my way there. I snuggle down into the middle of my bed, surrounded by big fluffy pillows and drift off to dream land……or so I thought.
“Mommy. Mommy. Mommy……….I has to pee.” says a little voice from next to the night stand. I reluctantly roll out of bed and pick my son up. “You have to pee?” “Yup.” “Ok.” And down the stairs we head. Half way down I feel my side get really warm. Really really warm. “Theo? Did you just pee on me?” “Uh huh.” Awesome. Did you know that 3 year olds, much like cats, don’t stop peeing on you even after you ask them about it? Neither did I.
Twice, twice in less than 6 hours. By two different beings. By two different species even. Just my luck. I am officially done with pee and taking applications for volunteers who would like to get peed on. Pheobe starts potty training in less than a year so if this position can be filled by then it would be great. Thanks.

A Scoop Of Poop Anyone?

As any mother will tell you getting ice cream as a family when you have kids is always an experience! Especially when they don’t know how to wipe their own butts.
It’s Friday, what better thing for a family of 4 to do than to go get ice cream? So that’s just what we did! Huge heaping servings of chocolate, soft serve vanilla, coconut, and heath bar were served up in cones and dishes. I am the mom, I got a cone because I have good positive control! Right?
Five minutes into our ice cream feast Theo looks up at me with those panicked eyes that I know too well. “I have to poop!” Loud and proud in the middle of the ice cream shop.  We hurry off to the bathroom, and close the door behind us. Once the door is closed and I see Theo standing there with a look of distress in his eyes with his pants around his ankles….standing next to a toilet that looks 3 feet high.  I move forward to help and it dawns on me that I am holding my double decker coconut and heath bar cone in my hand.
Now what? Seriously? Am I really stuck in here in this dilemma? I lift him up with my left hand and stand there wondering if it is acceptable to eat my cone while waiting for my son to finish pooping. I lick…..I sniff…..not a good idea! “I’m done!” Great! Record time! I go to grab the toilet paper (ice cream still in hand). No tp on the little roll. No tp on the left large roll. No tp on the right large roll. No tp on the back of the toilet! Are you serious?!?!?!?!
What to do. Poop in the 3yr old’s butt and an ice cream in hand. I’m Totally going to be busted publicy for eating in the bathroom! I then slink out with my cone behind my back and a 3yr old still sitting on the toilet (confused at this point). I quietly ask for a roll of tp and slink my way back into the bathroom, ice cream still in hand.
Once behind closed doors i can breath a sigh of relief. I then begin to pull the wrapper off the tp. Not working with ice cream in hand. I then start looking for some kind of magic ice cream cone holder as if all ice cream shops would run into this problem with their patrons. Nothing. I look at the electric hand drier. No. I look at the sink. No. I look at the tp holder. Eww, no. I am then left with no choice but to slink out again with ice cream in hand.
I go up to my husband and ask him to hold my cone, knowing it will not be anywhere close to it’s original state when I come out of the bathroom for good in another 2 minutes. Back in to the bathroom again. I help my son wipe his butt (the high light of all my days) and then go to flush the toilet.
I look down and notice the poop is dangerously close to the front of the water. I cross my fingers and flush. The poop sits there like concrete in a wind storm. I go to flush again. Damn water saving toilets!!!!! Why do you not fill up quickly?!?!?! I wait 30 seconds and try to flush again. Nothing. Meanwhile my son is getting fidgety and wants to know why he can’t continue to enjoy his chocolate goodness waiting for him at the table. “Wait a minute Theo, Mommy is trying to fix the toilet.” “Fix the toilet?” “Yes.” “My poop broke the toilet?” “Yes.” A look of shock.
I try to flush again. I give up! If we’re in there any longer people are going to start to wonder. I go back out to the counter and hand them the bathroom key. I look to the floor and say, “My son clogged the toilet with his poop. Sorry.” and walked away. The 3 teenagers behind the counter giggle and start to color on a piece of paper.
All the giggling and scribbling produced an “Out Of Order” sign for the bathroom door. I try to explain to them that really all they have to do is try to flush it again. As if a 17 year old wants to hear that! “It’s ok, we’ll just leave the sign up.”
Five minutes later a family walks in. They need to use the bathroom. Awesome.

It's Totally The Dog's Fault!

When the kids and I walk the dog, my son likes to hold the leash and run up and down the sidewalk with the dog dragging behind him.  After about 5 minutes of this the other day he ran up to me and handed me the leash. Confused, but relieved for the dog, I took over and resumed walking.  Then there was a little panicked little voice behind me that piped up, “I have to pee!”
I turned around just in time to see my son standing in the grass between the sidewalk and the road with his pants down around his knees. Facing the road. Ready to pee.  Just like the dog.
I can no longer blame my children’s bad habits on my husband, it’s totally the dog’s fault.

Do Exactly As I Say

My house only has one air conditioned room, the living room. This leaves the rest of the house to feel like the face of the sun, HOT! Needless to say all things that breath congregate in the living room (dubbed the Awesome Room) as much as possible. Because of the fact that there is limited space in the “Awesome Room” we try to keep the majority of the kid’s toys on the face of the sun.
Last night my son decided that he wanted to play with his trains in the “Awesome Room”. When asked if he could play with them I said yes he could. I then noticed that he wanted to play with ALL his trains (there are upward of 50 or so). I stopped him before he could maneuver the large box of trains from the playroom to the living room. “You can play with your trains, but you can’t bring the box into the living room.” Those are the words that were formed in my brain and came out of my mouth. “Ok Mommy.” Followed by a huge grin.
Two minutes later I hear what sounds like a waterfall of trains. I turn to look toward the doorway of the living room and see all the trains dumped over the threshold and onto the living room carpet. The box was still out in the hallway.
Next time I will form my words a little better.

Boob Licking Dog

We have been dog sitting a little white rat dog for almost a week. Let it been known well in advance that I do NOT like dogs! Clarification, I like other peoples dogs that only bother you for a few minutes and then leave. I dislike having a dog in my own home that I have to take care of.
Night 1 consisted of the boob licking dog getting her nick name, The Boob Licking Dog. We were warned that she would not do well in her crate in a new home and that it was “ok” to bring her to bed with us. As soon as this rat dog was in my bed she starting licking my boobs. I tried everything, I pulled the covers up, I put a shirt on, I put her on the floor. And she STILL found a way to get to my boobs!
This dog has continued to be a thorn in my side sense that night. Every night I have had to get up with both the kids AND this damn dog due to bodily functions! In short from 1:30am to 4:30am I am dealing with some sort of bodily fluid coming from at least 1 of the 3. It really is fantastic.
The second day here the boob licking dog nipped at my son while they were playing. My husband, in his booming New Yorker voice, scolded the dog and smacked it on the toosh. The dog will no longer go near my husband. This leaves the damn thing attached to me for even longer periods of time.
I have 2 kids, 4 ovely needy cats (that are peeing all over everything because they dislike the Boob Licking Dog as well), and now a rat dog who is glued to me every time I sit/lay down. Down right peachy I tell you!

Squash

The dinner plates were on the table and my son was ready and waiting to start eating. His smile was so big as I set the plates of food on the table, he looked so happy to "finally" be able to eat! I smiled back at him and then turned to head back in the kitchen for the silver wear.  When I returned the summer squash from my son's plate was gone, and a satisfied look was on his face. I couldn't control myself, "Theo, you ate all your summer squash!"
"Mmhm, Mommy."
"Wow! I'm so proud of you!"
After the joy mellowed out I noticed his eyes going back and forth between his plate and the donor's. "Do you want more?"
"Umm, no Mommy."
Giggle. "No more." Giggle.
I look at the donor's plate.......there on top of his summer squash were three pieces with finger prints in them. My son's eyebrows then went up. Evidently my son's belly has a direct path to the donor's plate. Sneaky little bastard.

Penis

The other day I looked at my son who wasa pulling on his penis. When I asked him if he had to pee he said no, and walked away. He came back into the room 5 minutes later doing the same thing. "Theo, do you have to pee?" "No Mommy." And off he went again only to return in another 5 minutes.  This time his penis was hanging out over the top of his pants.  "Theo, what are you doing?" "My penis was hiding." "Hiding?" "Yes, in my pants." "What is it doing now?" He looks down. "Nothing," and walks away.

A few days later my son kept running into the kitchen with his penis hanging out over his pants yelling, "PENIS" while shaking it around.  My conclusion, he penis was done hiding and wanted to play peek a boo.  I asked no questions that day, instead I pretended to act suprised everytime he came around the corner yelling "PENIS!"

First off....the dirty sock.

I have been planning a birthday party for my husband for the past month.  Well it's not really a "birthday" party so much as a "last day of your 20's" party.  He had told me that he didn't want a party for his 30th because it was depressing (he's a little broken up about having to 'grow up').  The party was originally a suprise party.  I was doing so well with it too.  I had sent out event invitations on Facebook, covertly contacted non-Facebook users, and researched his present without his knowing.  I had even organized it so there would be a roast in his honor.  We were all going to raise our whiskey shot glasses and insult him until he cried from laughing so hard.  Beer Pong Tournament with prizes along with a fun game of Pin the Goatee on Mike.  Hot damn this was going to be a good time!

I don't think I ever mentioned that Mike is from Staten Island, NY.  He's a New Yorker through and through with his top life ideals being "Lie, Cheat, and Steal".  He's that guy who can argue himself out of a paper bag and then win you over so that you'll want to buy him a drink afterwards.  He's also the master of deception.  This is how his birthday party became unsuprising.

I was aproached, well cornered, in the bathroom by Mike while I was giving the other kids a bath.  He had talked to his mother earlier that day and she wanted to know what was going on this weekend.  He was playing it up like she had spilled the beans about the party, complete with her backtracking.  I couldn't believe that she had done that, I was pissed! Now i know that my husband's family doesn't always like the things I do, but I couldn't figure out why she would spill the beans about the party.

Come to find out, she never knew....I'm just married to the sneakiest bastard alive!  He now knew, this could only mean one thing....nothing was going to go as planned.  Mike needs everything the way he wants it.  The plan was a BBQ with games and keeping everyone outside so that he would have a place to escape to...inside.  He is always saying that he is ok with having people over as long as he has a place to escape to so he would prefer that they were outside.

For the 24 hours after he found out about the party he was beyond excited that I had put in so much thought into his birthday. He was posting it all over Facebook and all smiles when I saw him.  He was walking on cloud 9........until he got into his head that he wanted to watch the UFC Pay-Per-View.  It all went downhill from there.  Suddenly I was in the wrong for ever thinking that a suprise party would be good for him.  Not only that, but a suprise party full of people he didn't really know (I invited mutual friends and people he worked with, that he knows).  He was also mad because I didn't give him a place to escape to.  His logic was that ordering the pay-per-view gave him the option to come inside....inside his own house....because he needs a reason to come in.  Another arguement was that he didn't want something that revolved around him.

One of my main reasons for not wanting to order the PPV, my parents were going to be in town....they sleep in the living room....where the TV is.....the TV that we watch PPV's on.  I had expressed that it wasn't fair to them if we are watching TV while they are trying to sleep.  We don't have a guest room and because of my father's weight having him walk down the wood stairs in the middle of the night to use the bathroom is not fair.  These arguements..... were treated as null and void.
After hours of banging heads about the subject I canceled the bbq I had planned and let him take the reigns.  He ended up ordering the PPV and planning a bbq.  I was talked in to beliving that I was the one in the wrong  for ever planning a party for him that he didn't have control over.  We currently have a house full of people in our livingroom.....not outside.....he has no escape......yes, this is my husband in a nutshell.

Putting The Clothes On The Floor

I am a Mom. I have been for 3 1/2 years and there's no way of getting around it. I have a feeling this crazy thing called motherhood is going to continue right through to the end. Oh the stories I'll have by then! First up is Theo, my little man. He's 3 1/2 and recently discovered his attitude. I'm not really sure who told him he was allowed to have one, but when I asked him if he had permission he told me flat out, "Yes Mommy." The conversation ended there, he has permission, Mommy has been overruled. Next up is Pheobe, aka The Devil Wears Pigtales. She's one and didn't think it was fair that her brother got to have an attitude and she didn't.....she now has an attitude that trumps Theo's. I tried to bring up the attitude in conversation with her one day, she looked at me and spit out a Cheerio. And so ended that conversation. Good talk little girl, good talk. The final part to this equation is Mike, my oldest. He's going to be 30 on Sunday, he's also my husband. His therapist and his sister (who is also a therapist) both say that he is mentally stuck at about 15 years old. This is why I feel it only fair that I add him into the child line up. I'm guessing my need to marry a "15 year old" comes from a lack of "serious" relationships in high school. Now if only he would take me to the prom. My friends, family, and my own therapist say that you can't make up half the stuff that happens in my house. This blog is to share with the rest of you my crazy life. You'll hear it all from Pheobe trying to fill all the tupperwear with poop to Theo telling me that he's "got this one" when Pheobe is screaming. For all you Mom's out there that need a little help remembering that life really is commical, this blog's for you!