....maybe that's why my children try their best not to use it.
Scene I: Carpool pickup after school in our awesome mini-van
Characters: Me, Thunder and his best bud from preschool
And Action!
Thunder's Best Bud: Hey, what if we lived together! And, I wasn't just riding to my house, I was heading home with you to live at your house. Then we could play together all the time!
Thunder: Yeah, okay.
(Thunder lives with built in playmates, so the whole adding another "brother" doesn't appeal quite so much.)
Thunder's Best Bud: No, what I'm sayin' is, like we could be brothers and LIVE in your house ALL THE TIME. Wouldn't that be sooooo much fun???
Thunder: I mean, it would be, but if you lived with me, my Mom would be mean at you sometimes.
Thunder's Best Bud: You're Mom's NOT mean!! She's always nice to me. She couldn't be mean at me!!!
Thunder: Not if you live with her! I'm tellin' you, if you lived with her, she would be mean at you sometimes.
Me: Umm, so is it that I'm MEAN to you, or is that you don't always obey, so sometimes you get into trouble??
Thunder: Nope. You're just mean at me sometimes. I guess cause you're so grouchy.
End Scene.
Scene II: Our dining room window
Characters: Lightning and Me
Lightning: Momma! I just saw Bean's Mom! She's over there, in Mr. Nick's yard!!
(Beans is our miniature dachshund who was our first child, many years ago. He once lived the high life as Prince Beans. Now he's our backyard guard dog. Don't judge me, we have a fenced in yard, and he is much happier outside than being stepped on all day by my human children.)
Me: Honey, how do you know that it is Bean's Mom?
Lightning: Well, she looked just like Beans, but FAT!
End scene.
Scene III: Getting Her Highness ready for another fun-filled day of first grade
Characters: Her Highness, Thunder and Me
Me: Miss Priss, if you don't get over here and let me do your hair, you will have to go to school with crazy hair.
Her Highness: I don't wanna go to school today! First grade is soooo boring!
Me: I remember first grade. It is harder than kindergarten, but surely there are some fun things you like to do during the day.
Her Highness: Momma, what was first grade like back in the OLD DAYS, anyway?
Thunder: And what did you watch on tv back then??
Curtain closes, and I cry backstage.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Will you be my friend? Check yes or no or maybe.
I never realized making new friends as an adult would be quite so much like dating boys in high school....
You meet what seems like a fun and interesting Mom at the Chick-fil-a playground: She seems normal- check. She held up her end of the conversation (though it was only five minutes)- check. She complimented your new diaper bag- check. Yes, things seem to be going just great. You swap e-mail addresses and decide a playdate is in order. You meet up at the local park a few days later. Fifteen minutes into your "first date" you realize this relationship is not going to work out. Her precious three year old just intentionally threw a whole bucket of sand into your daughter's eyes, and your hopeful candidate didn't so much as blink at her little brat. You smile, politely, through the next hour as she talks about how much money her husband made last year, where they will be putting their three terrors into private school, and how she doesn't really like living in the south... she is from South Florida and doesn't really understand "this culture." "Let me know if you need help packing so you can get the heck outta Dodge!" You wish you had the nerve to say, as you come up with a sweet excuse to leave early. You then ignore her next e-mail, inviting you to a wine tasting with all of her "dearest friends."
A few weeks later you meet another interesting Mom, who also seems to have a lot in common. You chat for a bit by the neighborhood pool, and learn you both agree fully on discipline, religious and political views. You learn this, of course, without ever actually talking formally about any of these topics. You just see her discipline her three year old, for dumping a bucket of water on his innocent 12 month old sister, and think, "That's exactly how I would have handled that!" Then later in the discussion you mention what to cook for dinner and she says, "I always do crock-pot on Wednesdays, because it's a church night for us." Her child then sneezes and she whences while making a comment about avoiding the swine flu. Another over-opinionated Mom joins in the conversation and drops a "Universal Healthcare is just what this country needs at a time like this." The Mom you are considering "asking out" doesn't even humor the Obama Mama and simply changes the subject before anyone has time to agree or dispute. Discipline- check. Religion- check. Keeping Political Views out of the pool- check. You then exchange cell numbers, so you can schedule a playdate soon. You leave a perky message, "Hey, it's Holly! We met at the pool the other day... anyway, just wanted to see if your crew would like to come over this week and play...." Only, she never calls you back. A few days later you realize that you have a mutual friend, who is headed over to your new BFF candidate's house for a playdate. You feel cheated on. "We hit it off so well at the pool! Our kids swam together for two solid hours and no one cried! I was charming! Why would she want to hang out with her instead of ME???" You go to the freezer and grab a Snicker's Icecream Bar. Suddenly, you're over it.
As your children go to school, they begin to "fix you up" on dates too.
"Mom, Sammy wants me to spend the night Friday night. Can I?" Not until I get to know her Mom, which means I have to invite her over for yet another "date." You fix an after school snack of home-made brownies and hope things go well, since your daughters have become such big buddies. During the next hour and half you learn that Sammy's Mom has no problems with teenage drinking, "If they're going to do it, I would rather them do it in my own house!" She plans to put Sammy on birth control by the age of fifteen, whether she is sexually active or not, "Cause when your hormones are raging, you just never know when you're gonna need it. I would rather it already be in her system than take a chance at becoming a grandma in my 30's!" And that she loves sending Sammy to her grandparents' house for the weekend so she and her second husband can barhop "And then you don't have to get up at 7am with a whiny five year old!"
Your daughter sobs that night, when you tell her that you just remembered something else was planned and she can't go to Sammy's spend the night party after all. "Maybe Sammy can come over HERE and play another time, Honey."
There's also the Mom who asked you out first... but totally insults you on the first date.
After many dates, trials and errors, you finally come across that Mom that really is a lot of fun, and thinks of you the same. Only, your kids hate each other. That's cool, you can always use another Bunko partner and fellow girls night out pal.
There's also the Mom who is fun for a while, then turns out to be super clingy and high maintenance... but, you already have a two year old, (and a husband) so you delete her from your contacts.
Your match-making skills are finally rewarded when that new friend comes along and everything truly is perfect. You schedule playdate after playdate successfully. Your kids are harmonious, you laugh the entire time you're together, and never once look at your watch and fake an important call that forces you to step outside for a bit. Now, it's time to move on to the next step of the relationship.... How will our husbands like each other?? You grill out and see them laugh several times. When it's time to go, they both talk about getting together for the Florida game next weekend.... CONGRATULATIONS! You feel like your new gal pal is truly a keeper.
All this "dating" makes you even more grateful for your original corp group of friends. The ones you've known for a long time. Who were there when you had the miscarriage. The ones who aren't super crazy about your hubby, but that's honestly your own fault because they're the ones you've called every single time he's pissed you off. The ones who, even though your kids don't really get along anymore you still hang with them just because of all the mess you've been through together, since being a grown-up is tough. The ones who would never sell you short, and remind you that too often you do that to yourself. The ones you thank GOD for every single day.
I do have an awesome group of girl friends. And I love "dating" every single one of them.
You meet what seems like a fun and interesting Mom at the Chick-fil-a playground: She seems normal- check. She held up her end of the conversation (though it was only five minutes)- check. She complimented your new diaper bag- check. Yes, things seem to be going just great. You swap e-mail addresses and decide a playdate is in order. You meet up at the local park a few days later. Fifteen minutes into your "first date" you realize this relationship is not going to work out. Her precious three year old just intentionally threw a whole bucket of sand into your daughter's eyes, and your hopeful candidate didn't so much as blink at her little brat. You smile, politely, through the next hour as she talks about how much money her husband made last year, where they will be putting their three terrors into private school, and how she doesn't really like living in the south... she is from South Florida and doesn't really understand "this culture." "Let me know if you need help packing so you can get the heck outta Dodge!" You wish you had the nerve to say, as you come up with a sweet excuse to leave early. You then ignore her next e-mail, inviting you to a wine tasting with all of her "dearest friends."
A few weeks later you meet another interesting Mom, who also seems to have a lot in common. You chat for a bit by the neighborhood pool, and learn you both agree fully on discipline, religious and political views. You learn this, of course, without ever actually talking formally about any of these topics. You just see her discipline her three year old, for dumping a bucket of water on his innocent 12 month old sister, and think, "That's exactly how I would have handled that!" Then later in the discussion you mention what to cook for dinner and she says, "I always do crock-pot on Wednesdays, because it's a church night for us." Her child then sneezes and she whences while making a comment about avoiding the swine flu. Another over-opinionated Mom joins in the conversation and drops a "Universal Healthcare is just what this country needs at a time like this." The Mom you are considering "asking out" doesn't even humor the Obama Mama and simply changes the subject before anyone has time to agree or dispute. Discipline- check. Religion- check. Keeping Political Views out of the pool- check. You then exchange cell numbers, so you can schedule a playdate soon. You leave a perky message, "Hey, it's Holly! We met at the pool the other day... anyway, just wanted to see if your crew would like to come over this week and play...." Only, she never calls you back. A few days later you realize that you have a mutual friend, who is headed over to your new BFF candidate's house for a playdate. You feel cheated on. "We hit it off so well at the pool! Our kids swam together for two solid hours and no one cried! I was charming! Why would she want to hang out with her instead of ME???" You go to the freezer and grab a Snicker's Icecream Bar. Suddenly, you're over it.
As your children go to school, they begin to "fix you up" on dates too.
"Mom, Sammy wants me to spend the night Friday night. Can I?" Not until I get to know her Mom, which means I have to invite her over for yet another "date." You fix an after school snack of home-made brownies and hope things go well, since your daughters have become such big buddies. During the next hour and half you learn that Sammy's Mom has no problems with teenage drinking, "If they're going to do it, I would rather them do it in my own house!" She plans to put Sammy on birth control by the age of fifteen, whether she is sexually active or not, "Cause when your hormones are raging, you just never know when you're gonna need it. I would rather it already be in her system than take a chance at becoming a grandma in my 30's!" And that she loves sending Sammy to her grandparents' house for the weekend so she and her second husband can barhop "And then you don't have to get up at 7am with a whiny five year old!"
Your daughter sobs that night, when you tell her that you just remembered something else was planned and she can't go to Sammy's spend the night party after all. "Maybe Sammy can come over HERE and play another time, Honey."
There's also the Mom who asked you out first... but totally insults you on the first date.
After many dates, trials and errors, you finally come across that Mom that really is a lot of fun, and thinks of you the same. Only, your kids hate each other. That's cool, you can always use another Bunko partner and fellow girls night out pal.
There's also the Mom who is fun for a while, then turns out to be super clingy and high maintenance... but, you already have a two year old, (and a husband) so you delete her from your contacts.
Your match-making skills are finally rewarded when that new friend comes along and everything truly is perfect. You schedule playdate after playdate successfully. Your kids are harmonious, you laugh the entire time you're together, and never once look at your watch and fake an important call that forces you to step outside for a bit. Now, it's time to move on to the next step of the relationship.... How will our husbands like each other?? You grill out and see them laugh several times. When it's time to go, they both talk about getting together for the Florida game next weekend.... CONGRATULATIONS! You feel like your new gal pal is truly a keeper.
All this "dating" makes you even more grateful for your original corp group of friends. The ones you've known for a long time. Who were there when you had the miscarriage. The ones who aren't super crazy about your hubby, but that's honestly your own fault because they're the ones you've called every single time he's pissed you off. The ones who, even though your kids don't really get along anymore you still hang with them just because of all the mess you've been through together, since being a grown-up is tough. The ones who would never sell you short, and remind you that too often you do that to yourself. The ones you thank GOD for every single day.
I do have an awesome group of girl friends. And I love "dating" every single one of them.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Biology 101-- Princess Style
With our baby on the way, Her Highness has many of the usual concerns most six year olds have about future life changes: "Will I get to feed our baby brother?... Can I give him a bath?... Where is he going to sleep?" are just a few of the questions I've answered lately. She's a great big sister, most of the time, as well as a super caregiver to her uncomfortable and heat-stroked Mother. When Her Highness sees the boys climbing over me, or plummet into my ever-growing belly, she'll usually holler at them with something along the lines of, "GET OFF OF MOMMA NOW! You're going to hurt our baby brother!!! He's going to come out missing an eye!!!!" Then, she'll roll her eyes and stomp across the room towards them to dish out her punishment. At times those boys respond quicker to her than me.
The other night, while Her Highness was trying to feel the kung-fu fighting this child does in my uterus, she asked several questions that I wasn't quite ready for:
"Momma, is it true that baby boys come out of your bottom?"
After I choked on my own spit, I stammered back, "Honey, where did you hear that?" She confidently responded, "Emily says that baby boys come out of their mommy's bottom. Then, one day I saw it on that show that comes on sometimes about going to the hospital and having a baby."
Great, my obsession with TLC is now "educating" my child.
She continued with, "And that baby was a baby boy. Momma, it came out of her bottom. I'm pretty sure about that."
I stared at the wall for a moment, wishing I could press pause on life and get the right answer prepared. Call my own Mother and get her advice, then mash play and handle this the right way. I then proceeded to inform her that only bad kids come out of their mothers bottom. The good ones, of course, are flown in by the stork. We had a Full House moment as we hugged and then ate cookies and milk. Then, after I woke up from my day dream, I faced her for real...
"Sweetie, if boys come out of their Mommy's bottom, where do girls come out of?"
She looked at me as if I were stupid and with a sigh explained, "The doctor cuts a little bit on the Mother's tummy and just takes the baby girl out. Just like that!"
I choked back a hard laugh. Leave it to Her Highness to assume boys came from your butt and girls got a cleaner route to the big wide world. Then, I did what most Moms would do with a six year old... I avoided the truth... and will until I'm ready to get phone calls from her friends' parents.
"Honey, you're right. Some mommies do have to have the doctor cut open their tummy and help the baby come out that way. But, it doesn't matter if the baby is a boy or a girl. That's usually only in emergencies, and the doctor will help both boys and girls out that way."
Being the bright, inquisitive child she is, which I'm sure I'll be thankful for one day, she then asks, "Well, then what's the other way?"
"Oh, God makes a special way when it's time for the baby to come. Do you want an Oreo?? We've also got ice cream. How about both?"
The diversion worked... for now.
I guess being the only girl in a crazy house of testosterone can bring out a bunch of questions. As well as assumptions. Her Highness brought about another fit of laughter recently when she was wrestling with her band of brothers. Just moments into the fight, she was calling a time out while holding her crotch. "Momma! Momma! I just got kicked in the nuts! Tell the boys no kicking is allowed, or hurting me at all for that matter!!" It's all fun and games, until somebody gets kicked in the nuts.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
More Fan Mail for TLC
Earlier in the year, I submitted this letter to one of my favorite networks... (click)
Now, with a whole new season of Toddlers & Tiaras, I've got more love coming at ya, TLC...
Dearest TLC,
I've been eagerly awaiting the new season of Toddlers & Tiaras. You had me at "If she ever says she wants to quit, we ain't doin' 'em no more..." It is a show I simply cannot get enough of. Your conspiracy to have the world select you as the #1 network by only showing programs that make us feel better about ourselves is definitely working. With shows like Toddler & Tiaras, I hold my head even higher as a mother: A sane, competent Mom who realizes thrusting your child in front of strangers only to have them tell her she's not pretty enough for the 24 inch tall crown that she can't even hold on her head absolutely does not "build confidence." Also, though embarrassing, could you please film more of your future episodes in the southern states? I have to say, the representatives you selected from the states of Georgia, South Carolina, Mississippi and New Orleans have been so much more, how should I say... hmmm... entertaining than our stuffy delegates from the North. Being a southern gal myself, perhaps I should be ashamed to make such a request, but it's so true. The overweight, sassy, hick sounding fake blonds with black roots who would rather spend their hard earned hourly wages on their daughter's fake nails and spray-tanning are more of an ego-booster for me, and others, I'm sure, than the half-educated, scowl-faced Moms who only work two full-time jobs to pay for their daughter's "favorite hobby."
But, TLC, it's not just this show that makes us all feel better about ourselves. The episode of "Truth be Told-- I'm a hoarder" was perfect for the condition my house was in last week. And most weeks for that matter. The box of Cheerios that could be swept up off my living room floor was only dumped out two days prior. Since the Cheerios are not sticking to the hardwoods due to an un-known green substance that lies underneath, I will allow them to sit at least one more day and see if the dog won't come back for them eventually, or one of the naughty children who dumped them out in the first place. And, because I don't have mold growing by the bushel in my fridge, I will now put off cleaning out my refrigerator another week. Since the laundry pile at the foot of my bed is made up of clean clothes, not clothes that someone left on the curb for garbage pickup 18 years ago, I will not fold those for another week either. Thank-you, TLC, for helping me to realize my house is just a "dry mess," meaning, it could all be swept/picked up in a short period of time, should someone get the notion to do such a pointless act in this house of insanity.
Speaking of insanity... I would like to say no thank-you, for continuing to run episodes of "Jon Minus Kate." Though sarcastic satire is not needed on this topic (for it's a given) I am wondering one thing... Will they wait and announce their reconciliation after their ratings have plummeted so low that when Jon calls the paparazzi to notify them of his taking out the trash, even the skanky paps no longer come?? Or is that just going to be later this season, so Kate can continue being her own worst enemy? Just wondering, cause we all know they will get back together eventually, since that's what sells. DRAMA. Who will Kate belittle on an hourly basis? Why would America continue to watch if you guys aren't making us feel better about ourselves...We all got that "At least I don't take the crap Jon takes all day long." feeling from watching. I'm on to you, TLC. But, you gotta keep the viewers anyway you can. I get it.
Next up, thank-you for the hilarious, though supposedly true series "18 Kids and Counting." What kind of ego boost do I take from this show, you ask? That my children are being raised to think for themselves and not being brainwashed and hidden from the world?? No, not even that. Simply, that my hair does not look exactly like it did when I graduated high school in 1998. Perhaps Al Gore should stop by and have a talk with Jim Bob and Michelle on quitting the Aqua Net tradition. The hole in the ozone may close a little. However, I do think Michelle and Jim Bob are doing a good job with all those young 'uns, as Bert's Granny would call them. But, we need to remember, only one of the 18 has officially made it to adulthood without embarrassing the stew out of those folks. Give that crew some time. With 17 kids still under the age of twenty-one, one of them will end up in the tabloids, for less than desirable reasons. You wait and see. And, as much as they get together with the equally awkward Bates family with 16 kids, I won't be surprised if we see a "Shotgun Wedding" episode before too long. I called it.
The worst part of this show is not the goofiness nor the 80's hair, but simply Cousin Amy. Please kill her off the show before next season. She's just too annoying. I don't need an outsider's point of view. I am a normal person myself, creating my own sarcastic commentary as I watch the show, so I don't need a spoiled teenager to hone in. I mean, if she thinks they are so stupid, why does she hang with them in the first place? Oh, that's right, to be on national television. Seriously, ban her from stopping by.
And, I know Josh is now married to Anna, but could you write her off the show as well? She gets on my nerves too. Please, please don't give them a spin-off series. I've had about all the "hand-porn" I can take out of those two. And now they're married, so what's up with all the PDA anyway?? Come on, Josh. Everybody knows that once you're married, you don't have to hold hands and make googly eyes while seeing who can be the last one to say, "I love you more." Gross. And this coming from a Mom who is expecting five kids in six years. My point is, you can still be "active" without causing others to dry-heave. Get a room.
So, TLC, as you can see, I still appreciate all your hard-work and dedication to making me feel better about my lack of hard work or dedicating myself to much of anything. Keep it up!
Sincerely,
The World's Best Barbie Diamond Castle Princess Momma who is not afraid to throw stuff away and clean my house periodically while refraining from putting my husband down in front of America and my exploited children and not being afraid to change my hair style from time to time and still being loving towards my husband without making those around us puke...
AKA: Holly Hudson
Now, with a whole new season of Toddlers & Tiaras, I've got more love coming at ya, TLC...
Dearest TLC,
I've been eagerly awaiting the new season of Toddlers & Tiaras. You had me at "If she ever says she wants to quit, we ain't doin' 'em no more..." It is a show I simply cannot get enough of. Your conspiracy to have the world select you as the #1 network by only showing programs that make us feel better about ourselves is definitely working. With shows like Toddler & Tiaras, I hold my head even higher as a mother: A sane, competent Mom who realizes thrusting your child in front of strangers only to have them tell her she's not pretty enough for the 24 inch tall crown that she can't even hold on her head absolutely does not "build confidence." Also, though embarrassing, could you please film more of your future episodes in the southern states? I have to say, the representatives you selected from the states of Georgia, South Carolina, Mississippi and New Orleans have been so much more, how should I say... hmmm... entertaining than our stuffy delegates from the North. Being a southern gal myself, perhaps I should be ashamed to make such a request, but it's so true. The overweight, sassy, hick sounding fake blonds with black roots who would rather spend their hard earned hourly wages on their daughter's fake nails and spray-tanning are more of an ego-booster for me, and others, I'm sure, than the half-educated, scowl-faced Moms who only work two full-time jobs to pay for their daughter's "favorite hobby."
But, TLC, it's not just this show that makes us all feel better about ourselves. The episode of "Truth be Told-- I'm a hoarder" was perfect for the condition my house was in last week. And most weeks for that matter. The box of Cheerios that could be swept up off my living room floor was only dumped out two days prior. Since the Cheerios are not sticking to the hardwoods due to an un-known green substance that lies underneath, I will allow them to sit at least one more day and see if the dog won't come back for them eventually, or one of the naughty children who dumped them out in the first place. And, because I don't have mold growing by the bushel in my fridge, I will now put off cleaning out my refrigerator another week. Since the laundry pile at the foot of my bed is made up of clean clothes, not clothes that someone left on the curb for garbage pickup 18 years ago, I will not fold those for another week either. Thank-you, TLC, for helping me to realize my house is just a "dry mess," meaning, it could all be swept/picked up in a short period of time, should someone get the notion to do such a pointless act in this house of insanity.
Speaking of insanity... I would like to say no thank-you, for continuing to run episodes of "Jon Minus Kate." Though sarcastic satire is not needed on this topic (for it's a given) I am wondering one thing... Will they wait and announce their reconciliation after their ratings have plummeted so low that when Jon calls the paparazzi to notify them of his taking out the trash, even the skanky paps no longer come?? Or is that just going to be later this season, so Kate can continue being her own worst enemy? Just wondering, cause we all know they will get back together eventually, since that's what sells. DRAMA. Who will Kate belittle on an hourly basis? Why would America continue to watch if you guys aren't making us feel better about ourselves...We all got that "At least I don't take the crap Jon takes all day long." feeling from watching. I'm on to you, TLC. But, you gotta keep the viewers anyway you can. I get it.
Next up, thank-you for the hilarious, though supposedly true series "18 Kids and Counting." What kind of ego boost do I take from this show, you ask? That my children are being raised to think for themselves and not being brainwashed and hidden from the world?? No, not even that. Simply, that my hair does not look exactly like it did when I graduated high school in 1998. Perhaps Al Gore should stop by and have a talk with Jim Bob and Michelle on quitting the Aqua Net tradition. The hole in the ozone may close a little. However, I do think Michelle and Jim Bob are doing a good job with all those young 'uns, as Bert's Granny would call them. But, we need to remember, only one of the 18 has officially made it to adulthood without embarrassing the stew out of those folks. Give that crew some time. With 17 kids still under the age of twenty-one, one of them will end up in the tabloids, for less than desirable reasons. You wait and see. And, as much as they get together with the equally awkward Bates family with 16 kids, I won't be surprised if we see a "Shotgun Wedding" episode before too long. I called it.
The worst part of this show is not the goofiness nor the 80's hair, but simply Cousin Amy. Please kill her off the show before next season. She's just too annoying. I don't need an outsider's point of view. I am a normal person myself, creating my own sarcastic commentary as I watch the show, so I don't need a spoiled teenager to hone in. I mean, if she thinks they are so stupid, why does she hang with them in the first place? Oh, that's right, to be on national television. Seriously, ban her from stopping by.
And, I know Josh is now married to Anna, but could you write her off the show as well? She gets on my nerves too. Please, please don't give them a spin-off series. I've had about all the "hand-porn" I can take out of those two. And now they're married, so what's up with all the PDA anyway?? Come on, Josh. Everybody knows that once you're married, you don't have to hold hands and make googly eyes while seeing who can be the last one to say, "I love you more." Gross. And this coming from a Mom who is expecting five kids in six years. My point is, you can still be "active" without causing others to dry-heave. Get a room.
So, TLC, as you can see, I still appreciate all your hard-work and dedication to making me feel better about my lack of hard work or dedicating myself to much of anything. Keep it up!
Sincerely,
The World's Best Barbie Diamond Castle Princess Momma who is not afraid to throw stuff away and clean my house periodically while refraining from putting my husband down in front of America and my exploited children and not being afraid to change my hair style from time to time and still being loving towards my husband without making those around us puke...
AKA: Holly Hudson
Monday, August 17, 2009
Poor, Name-less Child...
How many weeks are you??
Do y'all have a name yet??
-The two most dreaded questions for a Mom of more than one child.
Well, for this Momma anyway.
Being asked about how many weeks along I am causes my heart to beat faster, my mind to race, and my mouth to dry out a little. Much like the time I skipped three history classes in a row, freshman year, to go to the lake, only to return and learn an exam was being given. BUSTED! I feel bad enough every time I call to schedule an appointment with the doc/dentist and the receptionist asks, "What's the date of birth?" "Ummm, let's see here... No, he was born in November... Ummm... Wait, no she was the one born in '03.... Hmmmm, I mean seriously, how many Hudson Storms could you possible have in your system??? Just file it on that kid's insurance. Stop making me feel so bad!"
I have issues.
So, I'm now side-tracking that question with the exact answer... "I'm due November 24th."
Next: We need some help with a NAME!!!
It's here that I owe my Grandmother, may she rest in peace, my sincerest apology:
Dearest Banny,
(Sidenote, her kids tried to make the first grandchild call her Granny, cause she didn't want to be called that, but it came out Banny, and that's what stuck.)
I am truly sorry for thinking ill of you for a short stint of time during my adolescent years after learning my Mother had no middle name. Even though she is number six, of seven children, and number five of six girls, I still thought you should have given her SOME middle name. Even if you didn't like it. I joyfully named her myself, Diane, since she had to sign all her checks, report cards, etc with a "D" for her maiden name. I thought her life was so un-fulfilling until the day I named her. For it wasn't until that day, that she could walk with her head held high and proudly tell the world, she too had a middle name. And, since my middle name is your name, I thought it only fitting that my Mother get to enjoy such a necessity in life.
It is now, Sweet Banny, that I understandingly take back my Mother's middle name and force her to go back to using her maiden name "D."
I had no idea of the brain-storming sessions that must have occurred to simply come up with a first name for your last two children. Especially after naming so many of the same sex. Please forgive me of all my sour thoughts on this matter. And, just so you know, I didn't hold a grudge too long, for Her Highness proudly carries your name as well, though, it is her middle name.
Love Always Until We Meet Again,
One of your Favorite Grandchildren to watch from Above
Now that I've gotten that off my chest... For real, we need help. We have used family names for all the other kids, so that's part of our problem. Sorry to both our Grannies, but our choices left for grand-father names are Homer and Azel. Don't think we'll be using either this go round. The boys have come up with some interesting ones as well... Blue Power Ranger, Batman and Joker... just to name a few.
Her Highness now parrots my response when someone asks the dreaded name question, "Well, we had a bunch of girl names, but we're out of boy ones. OUT!" She'll say, exasperated.
My girl names included Mary-Kate which is my sisters' middle names combined... (no pressure there, girls! I'm just saying, if I was having another girl, she would have been named after the two of you, but no pressure if you end up having girls...) And several others that I thought were really sweet. So, if any of you ladies out there who are preggers with a girl need help with the name game, give me a call!
I really don't mean to sound too bratty, for we are extremely thrilled about this baby. Four boys is going to be a blast. I just hope he survives in such a wild household:
Without a giant cage on hand, I'm preparing myself for a lot of this...
Do y'all have a name yet??
-The two most dreaded questions for a Mom of more than one child.
Well, for this Momma anyway.
Being asked about how many weeks along I am causes my heart to beat faster, my mind to race, and my mouth to dry out a little. Much like the time I skipped three history classes in a row, freshman year, to go to the lake, only to return and learn an exam was being given. BUSTED! I feel bad enough every time I call to schedule an appointment with the doc/dentist and the receptionist asks, "What's the date of birth?" "Ummm, let's see here... No, he was born in November... Ummm... Wait, no she was the one born in '03.... Hmmmm, I mean seriously, how many Hudson Storms could you possible have in your system??? Just file it on that kid's insurance. Stop making me feel so bad!"
I have issues.
So, I'm now side-tracking that question with the exact answer... "I'm due November 24th."
Next: We need some help with a NAME!!!
It's here that I owe my Grandmother, may she rest in peace, my sincerest apology:
Dearest Banny,
(Sidenote, her kids tried to make the first grandchild call her Granny, cause she didn't want to be called that, but it came out Banny, and that's what stuck.)
I am truly sorry for thinking ill of you for a short stint of time during my adolescent years after learning my Mother had no middle name. Even though she is number six, of seven children, and number five of six girls, I still thought you should have given her SOME middle name. Even if you didn't like it. I joyfully named her myself, Diane, since she had to sign all her checks, report cards, etc with a "D" for her maiden name. I thought her life was so un-fulfilling until the day I named her. For it wasn't until that day, that she could walk with her head held high and proudly tell the world, she too had a middle name. And, since my middle name is your name, I thought it only fitting that my Mother get to enjoy such a necessity in life.
It is now, Sweet Banny, that I understandingly take back my Mother's middle name and force her to go back to using her maiden name "D."
I had no idea of the brain-storming sessions that must have occurred to simply come up with a first name for your last two children. Especially after naming so many of the same sex. Please forgive me of all my sour thoughts on this matter. And, just so you know, I didn't hold a grudge too long, for Her Highness proudly carries your name as well, though, it is her middle name.
Love Always Until We Meet Again,
One of your Favorite Grandchildren to watch from Above
Now that I've gotten that off my chest... For real, we need help. We have used family names for all the other kids, so that's part of our problem. Sorry to both our Grannies, but our choices left for grand-father names are Homer and Azel. Don't think we'll be using either this go round. The boys have come up with some interesting ones as well... Blue Power Ranger, Batman and Joker... just to name a few.
Her Highness now parrots my response when someone asks the dreaded name question, "Well, we had a bunch of girl names, but we're out of boy ones. OUT!" She'll say, exasperated.
My girl names included Mary-Kate which is my sisters' middle names combined... (no pressure there, girls! I'm just saying, if I was having another girl, she would have been named after the two of you, but no pressure if you end up having girls...) And several others that I thought were really sweet. So, if any of you ladies out there who are preggers with a girl need help with the name game, give me a call!
I really don't mean to sound too bratty, for we are extremely thrilled about this baby. Four boys is going to be a blast. I just hope he survives in such a wild household:
While it tickles me that our children love to hold and entertain babies so much, it worries me a little too... How in the world will I ever take a shower or leave a baby in a bouncy seat to load the dishwasher? I guess I just won't load the dishwasher and will have to take a few more "whore baths" than I will want to admit. Maybe one of these would come in handy....
Without a giant cage on hand, I'm preparing myself for a lot of this...
It's survival of the fittest in this house, combined with whoever's loudest, wins. Good times, good times. Bless you, Baby #5. Bless you.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
August in the Hudson House
Her Highness is now in the First Grade. She's making new friends and likes her new teacher.
Her biggest complaint is the "tennis shoe only" rule at her new school. "But, Momma. Sandals look soooo much cuter with dresses and skirts!!" I tried to comfort her by explaining all the girls would have on tennis shoes too, with their skirts and dresses. Her response, "Okay, whatever. We'll just ALL look like DORKS!"
Thunder went to his first day of preschool. I didn't do preschool with Her Highness, so this is new territory for us. Thunder begged to go to school last year, so we thought we would give it a go. He was dressed and ready three hours earlier than he needed to be. I've never seen a child so enthusiastic about anything in my life.
Her Highness, a champion mermaid swimmer herself, giving instructions to her learning brother: "Now, see if you can stay under even longer this time...Great job!"
Here we go...
And, he's still practicing to be a great big brother. Her Highness didn't know I was going to snap this shot. After she saw the flash she said with a sigh, "Oh, great. You're going to put that on your blog, aren't you??"
Her biggest complaint is the "tennis shoe only" rule at her new school. "But, Momma. Sandals look soooo much cuter with dresses and skirts!!" I tried to comfort her by explaining all the girls would have on tennis shoes too, with their skirts and dresses. Her response, "Okay, whatever. We'll just ALL look like DORKS!"
Thunder went to his first day of preschool. I didn't do preschool with Her Highness, so this is new territory for us. Thunder begged to go to school last year, so we thought we would give it a go. He was dressed and ready three hours earlier than he needed to be. I've never seen a child so enthusiastic about anything in my life.
Bert acted like he was going to carry Thunder in on the first day. "Oh, NO YOU'RE NOT!" is all he could squeal back.
Lightning had to carry a lunch box too, even though he wasn't staying. On the way home, Bert announced to those of us left in the car in his booming radio dj voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen... Boys and Girls... please welcome the newest boss of the Hudson House from the hours of 11-2..." and continued with his introduction of Lightning's newest title. All Lightning had to say to that was, "I wish I was four so I could go to school." I'm sure he and Hail will find plenty of trouble to stay in while their fearless leader is away.
Lightning does have some exciting news though... he's now a true swimmer! A couple of weeks ago, Hail insisted on taking off his arm floaties and got lots of attention because he was able to kick back and forth between Bert and me and then come up for air. Lightning watched his 22 month old brother attempt to swim for a few minutes, then said, "Momma, can I take my arm rings off too?" We pulled them off, and sure enough, my three year old had been holding out on me. He put his face in and kicked all over the shallow end, but stayed close to the stairs. I tried explaining that if you can swim by the stairs, you can swim anywhere, but he didn't believe me. Give him another week though....
Her Highness, a champion mermaid swimmer herself, giving instructions to her learning brother: "Now, see if you can stay under even longer this time...Great job!"
Here we go...
Last weekend several of our neighbors held a giant garage sale. They let Her Highness and Thunder set up a "Lemo-Lade" stand. It was super hot and humid, as August usually promises in the south, so they actually made out like bandits. Our sweet neighbors, Lauren and A.C. helped count change. Thunder could be heard singing as cars pulled up, "LEMO-LADE! Get your LEMO-LADE right here! Ice cold!! Step right up! Ice cold! LEMO-LADE!" He sounded like a beer and pretzel salesman at a stadium.
Cutest lil' entrepreneurs I ever saw.
Hail has some news as well... He's decided to potty train himself. I refuse to potty-train unless a child is begging and pleading. Otherwise, it's been my experience, potty-training is an utter and complete waste of my time and theirs. Hail is not 100% yet, but we're still proud of him for his efforts.
And, he's still practicing to be a great big brother. Her Highness didn't know I was going to snap this shot. After she saw the flash she said with a sigh, "Oh, great. You're going to put that on your blog, aren't you??"
I am trying to adjust to our new school schedule and hoping I don't mix up the car lines and wait at the wrong place at the wrong time. Thunder would be thrilled to be left at school for a few extra hours, while Her Highness would never speak to me again.
And yes, I am still feeling like I did last year. (Click here.)
Hope you all are having as much fun this August as we are in the Hudson House!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Final Days of My Youth
I turned the Big 2-9 last week.
Many have told me to enjoy this year, for next I am officially a grown-up. That's funny to me though, seeing as how I've been married for nearly eight years, will have baby #5 in a few short months, and I have a child in the first grade now. But, I guess having those items checked off still doesn't qualify me as a "grown-up."
I'm really not scared of 30. Both my parents have been wonderful examples in how to age gracefully. My Mom never once winced or whined when we would ask her age. It does take her a minute to tell you, because she has to do the math in her head. "Well, let's see..." she'll say. "I was born in ..... so that would make me...." My Mother is still a hair virgin, meaning she's never once colored her hair. We gray early, too, so that is truly a testament to her outlook on age. Many times she would say during my teenage years, as she would point to sections of her hair, "This gray streak is from Matt. This side is a little from Nick. But ALL THIS (pointing to the rest of her head) is ALL from HOLLY." Thanks, Mom. She still had a little dark color back then, for the twins to finish off, which they did. I think her hair is beautiful, as is she.
It is my hope, that someday I too can teach my children what life and aging are really all about. That growing up is a blessing, not a curse. Aging gracefully is more important than looking young. Having fun with the blessings God has given to you is a better way of life than regretting that your babies no longer need you on a daily basis. Thank-you, Mom & Dad, for teaching me such important life lessons.
I had a wonderful 29th birthday. The day before, I was treated to a day at the lake with one of my best friends and her sweet children. They surprised me with a birthday cake that said, "Happy Day Before Your Birthday!" The children enjoyed it as much as I did, I'm sure.
We spent the entire day swimming, boating and relaxing in the beautiful sun.
The next day, Bert and I took all of our kids to our local water park. Bert and the three bigger kids spent much of the time climbing the tower and riding the "big slides." While Hail and I spent the majority of our time in the kiddie park and splashing in the lazy river. We had promised the kids all summer we would go, and it just so happened that was the last chance we were going to have before school started. The kids really believed we went just for my birthday. Each said at different times, "Mommy!!! This is the FUN-EST PARTY EVER!" As we were leaving, Lightning said, "Oh, NO! Momma! We forgot to open your presents!" Sweet boy.
So far, 29 has been a great year. Bring it on, 30!!!
Many have told me to enjoy this year, for next I am officially a grown-up. That's funny to me though, seeing as how I've been married for nearly eight years, will have baby #5 in a few short months, and I have a child in the first grade now. But, I guess having those items checked off still doesn't qualify me as a "grown-up."
I'm really not scared of 30. Both my parents have been wonderful examples in how to age gracefully. My Mom never once winced or whined when we would ask her age. It does take her a minute to tell you, because she has to do the math in her head. "Well, let's see..." she'll say. "I was born in ..... so that would make me...." My Mother is still a hair virgin, meaning she's never once colored her hair. We gray early, too, so that is truly a testament to her outlook on age. Many times she would say during my teenage years, as she would point to sections of her hair, "This gray streak is from Matt. This side is a little from Nick. But ALL THIS (pointing to the rest of her head) is ALL from HOLLY." Thanks, Mom. She still had a little dark color back then, for the twins to finish off, which they did. I think her hair is beautiful, as is she.
It is my hope, that someday I too can teach my children what life and aging are really all about. That growing up is a blessing, not a curse. Aging gracefully is more important than looking young. Having fun with the blessings God has given to you is a better way of life than regretting that your babies no longer need you on a daily basis. Thank-you, Mom & Dad, for teaching me such important life lessons.
I had a wonderful 29th birthday. The day before, I was treated to a day at the lake with one of my best friends and her sweet children. They surprised me with a birthday cake that said, "Happy Day Before Your Birthday!" The children enjoyed it as much as I did, I'm sure.
We spent the entire day swimming, boating and relaxing in the beautiful sun.
The next day, Bert and I took all of our kids to our local water park. Bert and the three bigger kids spent much of the time climbing the tower and riding the "big slides." While Hail and I spent the majority of our time in the kiddie park and splashing in the lazy river. We had promised the kids all summer we would go, and it just so happened that was the last chance we were going to have before school started. The kids really believed we went just for my birthday. Each said at different times, "Mommy!!! This is the FUN-EST PARTY EVER!" As we were leaving, Lightning said, "Oh, NO! Momma! We forgot to open your presents!" Sweet boy.
So far, 29 has been a great year. Bring it on, 30!!!
Friday, August 7, 2009
If Momma Ain't Happy...
I threw a hissy fit this morning. A full-blown, feet stompin', screaming like a banshee, hands in the air-- hissy.
I was trying to get our brood out the door for our usual Friday morning activity, which all my kids love, Friday Playgroup. I did what I normally do: dressed the boys, put their shoes on, then turned on a cartoon so they could eat their dry Cheerios while I got myself dressed and ready. Her Highness dresses herself, and usually does a much better job than I would anyway, so she was ready as well. I got everyone settled and headed towards my bathroom.
Moments after I got in there, ALL FOUR KIDS came barreling in to join me. The usual took place, Her Highness went straight to my closet to help pick something for her fashion challenged Mother to wear, Thunder and Lightning began climbing and jumping off the counter, and Hail went straight for the cabinet that contains lotions, perfumes and other bottles of toxins for him to try and ingest. I started to fuss, "Okay, guys! Go back and watch your show. You need to eat so we can leave after I get ready. OUT!"
No one even batted an eye. Thunder and Lightning were now playing hide and seek in our closet while Her Highness was screaming, "You're going to mess up all the clothes! MOM! Make them GET OUT! Momma, you're not going to wear that are you??" Hail then jumped off the counter top, and Thunder and Lightning began running full speed playing chase. I started my hissy then. "ALL OF YOU GET OUT!!! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!!" They finally left the bathroom, but just to jump on my bed. With their shoes on. Now, I'll be honest, I'm not the neatest mom in town, nor am I a germ-a-phob by any stretch of the imagination. I wish some of those traits were in me, but they're just not there. And, jumping on the bed is usually allowed. The book, Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed was written with my children in mind, I'm quite certain. But, for some reason, this morning my hormones were raging, I was tired before I even woke up, and the fact that no one was listening just really hit a nerve.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? ALL OF YOU, GET OFF MY BED RIGHT NOW!! RIGHT NOW!!! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!! GET OUT!! GO WAIT BY THE DOOR AND STAND IN A LINE AND DON'T TOUCH EACH OTHER. GET OUT!!! GGGGEEEETTT OUUUUTTTT!!!!"
My throat hurt after I finished screaming. My head hurt. My feet hurt from stomping the floor. They did get out though. And walked slowly to the door, like I said, to wait for me to leave. But, just before they left the room, Her Highness turned back to roll her eyes and say,
"See Momma. THAT's why you shouldn't have had four boys."
I was trying to get our brood out the door for our usual Friday morning activity, which all my kids love, Friday Playgroup. I did what I normally do: dressed the boys, put their shoes on, then turned on a cartoon so they could eat their dry Cheerios while I got myself dressed and ready. Her Highness dresses herself, and usually does a much better job than I would anyway, so she was ready as well. I got everyone settled and headed towards my bathroom.
Moments after I got in there, ALL FOUR KIDS came barreling in to join me. The usual took place, Her Highness went straight to my closet to help pick something for her fashion challenged Mother to wear, Thunder and Lightning began climbing and jumping off the counter, and Hail went straight for the cabinet that contains lotions, perfumes and other bottles of toxins for him to try and ingest. I started to fuss, "Okay, guys! Go back and watch your show. You need to eat so we can leave after I get ready. OUT!"
No one even batted an eye. Thunder and Lightning were now playing hide and seek in our closet while Her Highness was screaming, "You're going to mess up all the clothes! MOM! Make them GET OUT! Momma, you're not going to wear that are you??" Hail then jumped off the counter top, and Thunder and Lightning began running full speed playing chase. I started my hissy then. "ALL OF YOU GET OUT!!! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!!" They finally left the bathroom, but just to jump on my bed. With their shoes on. Now, I'll be honest, I'm not the neatest mom in town, nor am I a germ-a-phob by any stretch of the imagination. I wish some of those traits were in me, but they're just not there. And, jumping on the bed is usually allowed. The book, Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed was written with my children in mind, I'm quite certain. But, for some reason, this morning my hormones were raging, I was tired before I even woke up, and the fact that no one was listening just really hit a nerve.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? ALL OF YOU, GET OFF MY BED RIGHT NOW!! RIGHT NOW!!! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!! GET OUT!! GO WAIT BY THE DOOR AND STAND IN A LINE AND DON'T TOUCH EACH OTHER. GET OUT!!! GGGGEEEETTT OUUUUTTTT!!!!"
My throat hurt after I finished screaming. My head hurt. My feet hurt from stomping the floor. They did get out though. And walked slowly to the door, like I said, to wait for me to leave. But, just before they left the room, Her Highness turned back to roll her eyes and say,
"See Momma. THAT's why you shouldn't have had four boys."
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Whimsical Beds, A game played just like musical chairs...
Only, when playing this version, you usually aren't coherent enough to find out who wins. It goes a little something like this...
10:30pm-- Fall into queen size bed with husband, already snoring at your side. Sigh loudly, for it helps to cleanse the soul. Flop over, so your 23 week pregnant belly doesn't suffocate you. Lie there approximately 43 seconds before passing out.
10:47-- Wake to screaming 22 month old in room across house with two sound sleeping brothers, tucked snugly in bunk beds. 22 month old continues to scream, even though you've now picked him up and are heading to the kitchen to fill sippy cup with juice. (I do it, it's true. So sue me. They're BABY teeth anyway.)
10:49-- Plop 22 month old in center of bed. Cram passie down his throat since juice is obviously not what he wanted. Flop back over, onto side. Pass back out.
12:00am-- Baby kicks your bladder. Waddle holding lower back, to the bathroom.
1:02-- Feel something or someone in your face. Open eyes and nearly jump out of skin when you realize it is your three year old, with his nose less than one inch from your face. Ask him if his clothes are wet. Send him to potty so they won't get wet. After hearing him flush, allow three year old to crawl in at the foot of bed. Kick husband for snoring. And for not waking up with any of the commotion. Flop over, pass out.
2:57-- Hear a familiar voice, much like that of your four year old son. "Momma, Momma, I don't know why, but my bed is all wet. And so is my shirt. Can I sleep with you??" Send him to strip in bathroom. Grab a clean pair of undies out of clothes pile in floor. Appreciate, this once, that you didn't have time/give a care to fold laundry and put away. Tuck four year old son in your spot of the bed. Again kick husband and pretend it's because of his snoring. Walk to couch. Flop around a few seconds. Pass out.
3:45-- Feel a very light tap on shoulder, followed by a sweet whisper, "Momma. Momma. Can I lay down with you? My arm is tingling and I had a bad dream." Rub your six year old daughter's arm. Make room on couch while telling her it was just a dream and everything will be all right... but only if Mommy gets some freakin' sleep! (That last part is optional.)
3:50-- Decide that sleeping with a hot natured six year old, who rolls around and kicks too much is not ideal on a couch. Move towards six year old's room, since she is no longer occupying the space. And, since your four year old already peed in his bed. Decide to take chances on the three year old's bottom bunk since daughter's bed is partially covered in barbies and baby dolls and you have no energy to rake everything onto the floor.
3:51-- Fall into three year old's bottom bunk. Detect a slight urine scent, but hope it's coming from top bunk. Flop over, pass out.
4:29-- Baby kicks bladder, AGAIN. Think for a moment that you are already back from the bathroom and begin to fall back asleep... until you realize that you did NOT just go because when you tried to roll over, you nearly wet the bed. Cross legs and scissor walk to bathroom.
4:57-- Hear pitter-patter of chubby toddler feet and rattle of soggy diaper. Feel chubby hands patting face. Then, hear screaming, "Mommy! MOMMY! I WAY DOWN WIF YOU!! I NEED DINK! I WAY DOWN WIF YOOOOOUUUU!!!" Throw 22 month old up against the wall, and pretend it was an accident. Hobble to kitchen, grab cup out of fridge, hobble back to urine smelling room, toss cup in direction of child. Flop/pass.
5:59-- Three year old stands next to bed, motionless, breathing down your neck. Open eyes, jump out of skin. Waddle to fridge, pour chocolate milk, get blankie off foot of bed, throw it on top of him on other couch. Turn Disney on softly. Consider crawling in at foot of queen size bed to catch a few more zzz's. Quickly nix thought when smell of husband's feet come to mind.
6:04-- Stare, blankly at coffee pot. Move in zombie like motion until entire cup of coffee is consumed. Wonder why in the world your kids can't sleep through the night and how you're going to handle a newborn in the mix. Decide to bottle feed this baby and force which ever child is up at the moment to change and feed baby. Then, walk back to bedroom and kick husband. This time don't pretend it's because he was snoring. Tell him you just remembered that you will be breastfeeding and NO ONE can help. Wipe tears from eyes. You still have four months to deal with that. Now, time to face another fun filled day!
10:30pm-- Fall into queen size bed with husband, already snoring at your side. Sigh loudly, for it helps to cleanse the soul. Flop over, so your 23 week pregnant belly doesn't suffocate you. Lie there approximately 43 seconds before passing out.
10:47-- Wake to screaming 22 month old in room across house with two sound sleeping brothers, tucked snugly in bunk beds. 22 month old continues to scream, even though you've now picked him up and are heading to the kitchen to fill sippy cup with juice. (I do it, it's true. So sue me. They're BABY teeth anyway.)
10:49-- Plop 22 month old in center of bed. Cram passie down his throat since juice is obviously not what he wanted. Flop back over, onto side. Pass back out.
12:00am-- Baby kicks your bladder. Waddle holding lower back, to the bathroom.
1:02-- Feel something or someone in your face. Open eyes and nearly jump out of skin when you realize it is your three year old, with his nose less than one inch from your face. Ask him if his clothes are wet. Send him to potty so they won't get wet. After hearing him flush, allow three year old to crawl in at the foot of bed. Kick husband for snoring. And for not waking up with any of the commotion. Flop over, pass out.
2:57-- Hear a familiar voice, much like that of your four year old son. "Momma, Momma, I don't know why, but my bed is all wet. And so is my shirt. Can I sleep with you??" Send him to strip in bathroom. Grab a clean pair of undies out of clothes pile in floor. Appreciate, this once, that you didn't have time/give a care to fold laundry and put away. Tuck four year old son in your spot of the bed. Again kick husband and pretend it's because of his snoring. Walk to couch. Flop around a few seconds. Pass out.
3:45-- Feel a very light tap on shoulder, followed by a sweet whisper, "Momma. Momma. Can I lay down with you? My arm is tingling and I had a bad dream." Rub your six year old daughter's arm. Make room on couch while telling her it was just a dream and everything will be all right... but only if Mommy gets some freakin' sleep! (That last part is optional.)
3:50-- Decide that sleeping with a hot natured six year old, who rolls around and kicks too much is not ideal on a couch. Move towards six year old's room, since she is no longer occupying the space. And, since your four year old already peed in his bed. Decide to take chances on the three year old's bottom bunk since daughter's bed is partially covered in barbies and baby dolls and you have no energy to rake everything onto the floor.
3:51-- Fall into three year old's bottom bunk. Detect a slight urine scent, but hope it's coming from top bunk. Flop over, pass out.
4:29-- Baby kicks bladder, AGAIN. Think for a moment that you are already back from the bathroom and begin to fall back asleep... until you realize that you did NOT just go because when you tried to roll over, you nearly wet the bed. Cross legs and scissor walk to bathroom.
4:57-- Hear pitter-patter of chubby toddler feet and rattle of soggy diaper. Feel chubby hands patting face. Then, hear screaming, "Mommy! MOMMY! I WAY DOWN WIF YOU!! I NEED DINK! I WAY DOWN WIF YOOOOOUUUU!!!" Throw 22 month old up against the wall, and pretend it was an accident. Hobble to kitchen, grab cup out of fridge, hobble back to urine smelling room, toss cup in direction of child. Flop/pass.
5:59-- Three year old stands next to bed, motionless, breathing down your neck. Open eyes, jump out of skin. Waddle to fridge, pour chocolate milk, get blankie off foot of bed, throw it on top of him on other couch. Turn Disney on softly. Consider crawling in at foot of queen size bed to catch a few more zzz's. Quickly nix thought when smell of husband's feet come to mind.
6:04-- Stare, blankly at coffee pot. Move in zombie like motion until entire cup of coffee is consumed. Wonder why in the world your kids can't sleep through the night and how you're going to handle a newborn in the mix. Decide to bottle feed this baby and force which ever child is up at the moment to change and feed baby. Then, walk back to bedroom and kick husband. This time don't pretend it's because he was snoring. Tell him you just remembered that you will be breastfeeding and NO ONE can help. Wipe tears from eyes. You still have four months to deal with that. Now, time to face another fun filled day!
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