Friday, May 6, 2016

That Mom Life

Dear Tiny Dictator.

I am so sorry that your day was ruined, before I had a chance to eat breakfast, drink coffee, or even get dressed. Your perfect day was shattered before the school buses had a chance to drive down our street. Knowing the I am the reason for your distress, fills me with angst.
I realize how foolish I was. Foolishly believing that you had finished your own breakfast. Thinking back, when you happily told me "all done", and then ceremoniously threw your bowl on the floor; that could have meant anything.
But the emotional torture did not stop there. I continued to defy you, with my refusal to participate in leisurely perusing the entire contents of our refrigerator. And again, when I rejected your calm request for an entire bag of chips.

I was selfishly trying to eat, what started out as a hot breakfast. In my delusional state, which I can only assume was brought on by hunger, I forgot that YOU, and only you, are the light in my life. When you were born I gave up any right I had to indulge in a reasonably timed meal. Nutrition is no longer important for me.

Thank you for your benevolence.

Your most humble servant,


P.S < /satire>

Friday, April 29, 2016

Positively Medieval.

Recently, Alex had an opportunity to go on an overnight field trip with one of our local homeschool support groups. The students were able to do an in-depth tour of a navy warship, including all the perks of eating in the mess hall and sleeping in the bunks.
The students also got to learn about military showers; A two minute showering process to conserve water.

Now, I wasn't there to hear the explanation the kids got, but what Alex took away from the experience was: Two. Minute. Shower. 

"I'm going to take a MILITARY shower." he announced, after a sweaty day outside.
"Perfect." I responded, as I worked on herding Spain and Luke inside.

Two and a half minutes later, Alex reappeared. His hair was mostly dry, his skin slightly damp, and the sweaty outdoorsy smell still clung to him.

"Did you use soap?" I asked. Alex rolled his eyes (**Side note; dude, you're not a teenager yet!!!!!**)
"Mama, I took a MILITARY shower. It can only be two minutes long."

I closed my eyes to pray for strength. "Alex, go take a shower and use soap." I opened my eyes and stared into his soul, using "mom eyes #7: Don't argue". 

He sighed*, prayed for strength, and tried to explain "Mama, MILITARY showers-"
"No." I interrupted "Personal hygiene is one of the main MILITARY uses for soap. GO. TAKE. A. SHOWER."

This brings back memories of my school days, and all the lectures about learning the proper way of doing something before learning shortcuts. So nothing is lost in translation.

*Clearly I need to practice on Mom eyes #7; Don't argue. 

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Every child has a super power.

Luke's is finding markers.

What's that?

You have a couple Sharpies hidden on top of a tall shelf, behind the closed and locked dorrs of your secret laboratory; That can only be accessed through retina scanning and DNA confirmation?

Yeah.... He found those ten minutes ago. Congrats on the one of a kind flooring.    

Friday, February 12, 2016

S'more S'mores

It's so easy for me to get caught up in my imaginary to-do list. Inevitably I become so distracted and shortfused, that I stop taking time to enjoy the little opportunities of fun that surround us. I've been making a conscience effort to devote less time to the endless chores, and more time to the family. Even if we're just "Sitting around".

One rainy afternoon, I was making s'mores in the toaster oven for the boys.

Me: How was the s'more?

Alex: *licking marshmallow goo off his fingers* It was really good!

Me: Do you know why they call them s'mores?

Alex: Why?

Me: Because you always want s'more!!!

I laughed, sweet husband laughed, the three offspring laughed.

****5 minutes later****

Alex: OH! I get it! s'more like "some more!!!!!"

I love being a parent!!

Saturday, December 5, 2015

The Force is Strong

Spain is obsessed with Star Wars. And I do mean "obsessed". It doesn't matter that he's never seen Star Wars. To be honest, all his Star Wars knowledge comes from Angry Birds, LEGO and Jeffrey Brown books.

Last night Spain strapped on a Rockband guitar, and treated me to an impromptu concert.

"When I talk to you, you guys answer by yelling "YEEAAAHH!" or "WHOOOO", okay?"


"Who's ready for a song??!!"

"Yeeeeaaahh. Whhooooo."


"Yeah! Whoo!"

"Okay. Now I can hear you! *Starts humming a ballad*
I'm Darth Vader. 
I will control you.
You are under my contr-ol"

*I've realized that I constantly trail off sentences. It gives me time to figure out whether or not I should be afraid.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Diary Of A Mean Mom

Dear Diary,
I awoke this morning with a new sense of purpose. I have confiscated the LEGOs. The anguished wails of inconsolable children fill the living space. Righteous confidence and glee fill my being. I now have the power to build a brick fortress while plotting ways to siphon more joy out of the spawn!!

Friday, October 23, 2015

Real Conversations

***After finishing the bedtime ritual... Twice***

Me: Spain. Go. To. Bed.

Spain: Don't you mean "go play"?

***After yelling "INSIDE VOICES" at the oldest two***

Alex: Sometimes mama is like the hulk.

Spain: I love the Hulk!!!!!

***Introducing himself to new people***

Spain: My name is  Secret Agent Spy Darth Vader Batman

***While on the phone with the insurance company***

Alex: Chester* is like the last of his kind. A long time ago there were lots of Chesters, but then they started getting recalled. And now, I think Chester is the last one.

Spain: Ooh!

*Chester is our 2009 Toyota Corolla. 

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Dear children,

There seems to be some confusion about a specific item pertaining to our kitchen policy. I realize that some of you are new and still learning the ropes, while others have been with us for years. At no time have we encouraged toys, books, or bedding to be brought into the kitchen. The presence of these items in the kitchen is not just a safety matter, it makes me want to lose the small amount of sanity I have left.
I understand sometimes you are in your ninja/superhero/Darth Vader outfit that is not complete without an inappropriately dragging cape. However I have spoken with the Ninja Council/Justice League/Emperor, and they have approved the shorter non-dragging capes for kitchen usage.

In short; do not bring toys, books, blankets, pillows, or stuffed animals into the kitchen.


Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Stranded... The Ongoing Saga

Dear Mostly Bald One.
I am so glad that you are feeling better. It is wonderful to see you back to your adventurous self again. I just want to remind you, that I am always willing to accept your help. There is no need to screech at me in monkey if you want to vacuum.



I was woken up last night, not by the Mostly Bald One, but by the Tall Redheaded one because he wanted ideas to fall asleep. I've left our copy of the Merriam-Webster unabridged dictionary next to his bed.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Stranded. Tales from an Outnumbered Mother

I started the day with high hopes of retaining the crews' tentative loyalty. Since the fastest way to my heart is with food, I decided that was a good starting point.
I managed to find enough items in our provisions to make a batch of pancakes for the crew. Initially, the Curly Haired One was not impressed. He complained loudly about the lack of blueberries and granola available. His complaints soon turned to concern over the shape of the promised pancakes. Once he was able to convince me that they should all be circles, and have mango preserves smeared on top, harmony returned to our little camp.
After breakfast the Curly Haired One buried his face into my shoulder and sang "jingle bells". When I expressed confusion over the ritual, he explained that he was "singing in to me".

My spirits were lightened.

The Mostly Bald One continues to improve. As evidence by the many dancing parties he has tried to start. Sadly none of the attempts have resulted in a full out dance party.
A well-timed humanitarian package arrived in the afternoon. A sense of peace enveloped our little camp for a few brief hours. Long enough for us to band together as a family, instead of feuding like rival mafia dons.

Bedtime continues to be difficult. Tonight it was the Tall Redheaded One that tried to prolong the inevitable. The Mostly Bald One fell asleep while I cleared away the remnants of dinner. I tried to immortalize the moment, but as soon as I had photographic evidence, he woke up. The Tall Redheaded One tried to start a conversation about abstract theories, and I snapped. In a fit of exhaustion I announced that anyone not asleep would be eating quinoa for dinner the next day.

  Tomorrow's dinner is quinoa.