Beginning of the school year vs the end

The beginning of the school year vs end of the school year:

The beginning of the year we go on a 'school lunch shopping trip,' pick out a brand new lunch box from the Disney Store, and I pack as many food groups into my picky eaters lunch, cut the crust off her bread, tuck in a little note reminding her that I love her. The end of the year I toss in one of those crustable sandwich things and hope it's thawed by lunch, plus whatever else I can dig out of the cabinets (why hello there squished granola bar), fight with the zipper on that stupid lunch box, realize I forgot a napkin, don't want to fight with the zipper again so I figure she can just wipe on her shirt, and pat myself on the back for 100+ days of packed lunches.

Over the summer I start shopping for that perfect 'first day outfit' for both of my kids. I coordinate hair bows, shoes, and it's a bonus if the kids match one another. I write out all of their current hobbies and favorites on a chalkboard in different colors of chalk markers. I take lots of pictures. On the last day of school the kids end up in a random t-shirt and gym shorts, bonus if the top matches the bottom, I grab a highlighter and piece of paper for a last minute 'last day of school sign' and shove it in their hands for a quick picture.

The beginning of the school year I grab that book bag as soon as the kids are home so I can dig through all the papers. I get excited that they have to wear purple for anti-bully day and I remember to send money for the book fair.  The end of the school year I give that book bag stink eye, then several hours later dig through all the papers. Oh great, I've got to find a purple shirt for Relay for Life and dig up some quarters to send for the latest whatever is going on.

The beginning of the school year my kids are leaping out of bed, excited to see their friends. The end of the school year I am pulling them out of their beds hissing 'it's 13 years, I did my time and now it's your turn!'

The beginning of the school year my daughter loves riding the bus. The end of the school year she's asking to move to a different house so she can ride a different bus because she's 'over having an assigned seat and seriously mom why can't you just pick me up from school?'

The beginning of the year I'm all like 'oh let me know if you ever need me to come in and help!  I love being a part of the school!'  The end of the year I'm like 'yeah that slip that asked for volunteers...I lost it...I guess I won't be there...'

The beginning of the school year we sit at the table every night to work on everything in the homework folder, go over spelling words, read the library book. The end of the year we sit at the table and cram all the homework for the week into one night, we practice spelling words on the way to school, and the library book stays in the book bag so it can go straight back to school without getting lost.

The beginning of the school year projects we map out a plan, make lists, go shopping, and create. End of the school year projects we forgot about until last minute, run through house on a scavenger hunt, throw something together and pray.

The beginning of the school year the school supplies are purchased and replaced when needed. The end of the school year I'm like 'just because that pencil is an inch long doesn't mean it won't write!'

The beginning of the school year we meet our new teacher and begin new friendships. At the end of the year, we thank our teacher and enjoy the memories.

Here's to wrapping up one more school year!!!

What's inside your purse, mommy?

A while back as I was digging through my purse, or 'mom bag' as I affectionately call the giant tote I lovingly drag around filled with everything from band aids to water bottles, I uncovered rocks, a pair of Mario underpants (not necessarily mine and hopefully clean), and a half eaten peanut butter cracker. As I do with everything, I posted about it on Facebook, where other moms shared the random crazy things they have found in their handbags over the years. I then asked moms if I could share their findings on my blog, so here we go:

Allison:  Hot Wheels, socks
Amber:  house phone
Amy:  potato
Heather:  a suppository
Amber:  a wet diaper
Merritt:  hard boiled egg
Angie:  fork
Beth:  half an Italian sub
Chelsea:  dirty Buzz Lightyear underwear
Wendy:  wooden spoon
Melissa:  athletic cup
Holly:  busted packets of Polynesian sauce
Stacey:  crumpled up Taco Bell napkin with chewed gum inside
Katie:  aluminum foil
Jessica:  house phone, remote control, sock, screwdriver, half eaten Poptart
Sarah:  My Little Ponies, half eaten orange, batteries
Amanda:  Louisville slugger nubs
Holly:  GI Joe named 'Ripper'
Jannell:  fork, house phone
Randa:  Doc McStuffins stethoscope
Jamie:  lava rocks, vending machine plastic ducks
Kellie:  3 week old banana
Whitney:  used bandage
Jennifer:  corn cob pipe, rocks, acorns, leaves
Jessi:  toy wrench
Aimee:  baseball athletic cups
Kathleen:  tape measure, cold pack, Ace Bandage
Pam:  unused doggy poop bag

It's amazing the items that find their way into our bags!

Buddy Binx Balls Stupid Cat Little Kitty

So last fall a little black kitty literally showed up at our front door. Michael was outside and texted me 'look on the porch.'  I turned in the light and this little black kitten with big yellow eyes was staring at our house like 'Yep; this one will do.'

I yelled for the kids and we tumbled out onto the porch...and apparently the sight of two noisy children in their underwear (my kids never have clothes on at home, fair warning) was overwhelming so kitty ran away.  My kids cried and wailed over the loss so Michael lured the kitty with food from the woods into our cat carrier. He brought the carrier to the porch where the kids squealed and oohed over the little cat. Morgan cried 'please please please I will do anything to keep it!!' 

Ugh. 

The problem is, we already have two black cats. Ironic eh?  And they aren't related. Both are boys. The little kitty actually looked like a combination of both our black cats. I swear a huge pile of their hair somehow made it outside and got struck by lightning, creating little kitty. 

So we started feeding little kitty on our deck and he slowly got used to the kids. The day Morgan got to hold him, she decided he needed a name. 

I was like well it's a boy so give it a boy name. She asked 'how do you know it's a boy?'

Uhhhh how do you explain these things to a six year old?

Oh yeah. Science. 

I told her boys have balls. 

'Okay, well I want to name him Balls since he's a boy.'

Wait...what?!  No!

I tried to talk her out of it. But after seeing me laugh for 20 minutes over her choice of name, she knew it was a keeper. 

What about Sirius?

No. 

Gandalf?

No. 

Darth Vader?

No. 

For a short while (like a day) I talked her into naming him Binx after the cat in the movie Hocus Pocus. It didn't last. 

And unfortunately Jack loved the name too. 'We have a new cat...his name is Balls.'  Both kids had to tell everybody. 

Thank goodness people who know us are used to our weirdness. 

We tried to find a home for Balls but nobody wanted him since he wasn't a small enough kitten. So sad. He eventually found his way into our house where, surprisingly, our adult male black cats just love him. Especially the one Morgan renamed Mean Kitty, because he hates everybody other than Michael. 

Michael was like 'we gotta do something about his name. I think Buddy is a good name for him.'  I agreed. We tried to encourage Buddy, but the kids actually started referring to him as Little Kitty. That nickname works out great because Morgan renamed both cats when she was two; Calvin is 'Happy Kitty' and Shiner is 'Mean Kitty' so Buddy is 'Little Kitty.'  

Well he was until Michael started calling him Stupid Cat...

Sigh. 

Gingerbread Cookie 'Play Doh'

My kids requested gingerbread cookies this year. 

I don't cook. 

So I posted on facebook requesting an easy recipe. Some friends suggested buying the slice and bake cookies. Yes!!  

My Kroger sucks. 

No slice and bake. No packages. Nothing easy. 

So in the baking/sweets/spices/aisle where my kids go crazy section of Kroger, I googled 'easy gingerbread cookie recipe' and found one that didn't require molasses or ground up elf toes. 

I followed the instructions but it turned out to be a very weird texture, like kinetic sand. I assumed it was a fail but I stuck the dough in the fridge anyways. When it was time to use, I covered the kids' table in wax paper and flopped out my sand dough and laughed. I took the roller to it and laughed even more when the dough wadded up on the roller (yes I used flour on it) or stayed in sandy clumps on the wax paper. As I was trying to clean the roller I found that the dough actually felt a bit like play doh. I flopped a wad on the table and smashed it out with my hand, stuck a cookie cutter in it, and it worked! My kids LOVED it. It was like playing with play doh. They were able to squish it with their hands and cut out their shapes (angel, gingerbread person, snowman, neuschwanstein castle, the usual).

The cookies turned out great. So yummy!

Recipe:

Ingredients 

1 six oz package of butterscotch pudding mix (or 2 smaller boxes; that's all I could find, 3.75 oz boxes, I just didn't use entire package to keep it at 6 oz)

3/4 cup butter (about one and half sticks)

3/4 cup brown sugar, firmly packed

1 egg

2 & 1/4 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 tablespoon ground ginger

1 & 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon 

Instructions

1.  Cream pudding dry mix with butter and sugar, add egg, blend well. 

2.  Combine flour, baking soda, ginger, and cinnamon; blend into pudding/butter/egg mixture. 

3.  Chill dough for one hour in refrigerator or until firm. 

4.  Sprinkle table with floor or use wax paper to spread dough out on, pat out dough with hands, cut or form into shapes. 

5.  Bake at 350 degrees 10-12 minutes. 

6.  Cool and decorate. 

Enjoy!  

Holiday Hexes

*warning:  I do not proofread so read with caution hahaha

With the approaching holidays I hold my breath in anticipation of what plague will rear its ugly head. My kids aren't sick very often, unless it's a holiday and then they are dying. 

Last year was insane. 

Like it's not bad enough having to plan holidays around the husband's crazy work schedule (he works a lot of holidays because people apparently need electricity year round), having to travel 3.5 hours to my family and 2.5 to his, and scheduling around the life we've got going on where we currently live (dance, gymnastics, church, sleep); let's add sickness!!  

The Christmas Contamination:

Christmas last year was crazy. One of my brothers got married a few days before Christmas so we had to travel early. The husband was able to come to the wedding but then we had to get him back north to work Chrismas week.

The wedding was on Sunday. Morgan was running a low fever, but I didn't think anything of it because she randomly runs low fevers for no reason. Monday morning she woke up extra emotional and grouchy and her fever was higher, so I decided to try to find a doctor. I assumed her ears needed checked. I was 4 hours from our family physician so I had to find a local urgent care place. The first place was a two hour wait. Ummmm, bye Felicia. 

The next place had a much shorter wait. The doctor checked Morgan's ears and sinuses but they were clear.  Then she did a flu swab (I had to buy something special later for Morgan to help her get over her trauma of a giant Q-tip jaed up her nose). The doctor burst back into the room with 'congratulations you're the proud host of flu A (or H or some letter). At first Morgan was like 'yay I won!' but I explained that meant she was sick and she burst into tears with 'Santa won't come if I'm sick and Jesus will be so mad!'  (Because Jesus IS the reason for the season after all). 

Sooooo yeah. That changed everything. I had to contact all of the family and warn them that Mimi's House was now under quarantine and left it up to them if they wanted to be exposed or not. I have two brothers. The one that had just gotten married, he and his wife and their almost 11 month old daughter decided it was no big deal (a week later they posted on facebook 'We are so sick. Stay away from anybody with the flu' and I felt pretty bad about it) and my other brother and his wife weren't even sure if they wanted our contaminated gifts because they had a 4 month old son they didn't want sick. So we finally decided to leave our contaminated gifts for them to open a few weeks later, and they brought our gifts and stuck them in the front door and watched us open through the glass door. It was sad and hilarious. 

My 'brave but later sick' brother with my kids opening gifts like this lovely Christmas opposum (because a dead animal wearing overalls is the gift that keeps on giving), and my sister-in-law watching through the door.  My daughter is dressed as Izzy the pirate by the way. 

On Christmas Day I took the kids to my inlaws. We skipped going to both grandmas' big family Christmas get togethers but my inlaws insisted it was okay for us to come to their house. So we took our germs to a different house. The day after Christmas, Jack was burning up with fever and crying like he was dying. Same flu as Morgan, but way worse for him because, well, he's a guy. My mother-in-law rode back to our house with us, very upset over listening to sick boy cry almost the entire trip (I guess I'm used to it). 

Finally. Home. With our germs. There's just no place like home when you're sick or have sick kids. 

By the way, my mother-in-law ended up sick the next week. 

Morgan shared the gift of Christmas flu. 

The Easter Plague:

Easter is another holiday we spent on the road, trying to see everybody and make family memories. The week before last Easter, both kids and I ended up at our doctor with sinus and ear infections because allergy season clogs us up and makes us funky. We drove to my parents house on Thursday I think (these details blur together). Have I mentioned they live in a log home up a holler?  That's were I grew up, up a holler with mud, farm animals, and brothers. A friend actually had a shirt made for me that says 'I was raised up a holler with brothers' because apparently when I have to much to drink I always end up saying that phrase at some point. Well there's a river that runs along the 'main road' that the holler road branches off from. And it floods a LOT. Like seriously, if somebody spills a drink up river, we would end up flooded in for days. Thursday night it monsooned and sure enough, Friday morning the road was flooded. Or maybe it was Saturday. These details blur...

Saturday evening we have a tradition of going to one of the brother's houses for family dinner. In order to get around the flood, we had to use one of these to ride along a swampy road around a hill:

View from the hill. The entire valley filled with water. 

 

The end of the holler road. The stop sign is where the main road should be. 

Husband checking flood levels. Yes I yelled at him to not die. 

So we got around the flood and made it to dinner and egg hunt, then back around the hill to my parents' house. It was time for the evening dose of antibiotics for me and the kids. 

About an hour later, Morgan climbed into bed saying she felt terrible. I took her temperature and it was 106. I panicked.

So I did what I always do when one of my kids is sick, has a rash, eats dirt, et; I posted about it on facebook asking for advice. I wasn't sure if she needed to be taken to the ER. The two main hospitals in that area are so busy that sometimes it takes hours (even all night) to be seen. And it was after dark. And we were flooded in. 

Flooded in up a holler with a very sick child. Doesn't this stuff happen to anybody else?

Well facebook never disappoints. I had one friend message me saying her husband, who works for a local EMT  squad, could get to her by raft and get her to the ER. She basically had him on standby, waiting for my call. Another friend who is an ER doctor messaged me with advice on what they would do for her in the ER; to rotate tylenol and ibuprofen every so many hours, told me to try that and if THAT didn't help then she obviously needed to get to a hospital. So my mom and I sat in my old bedroom, wiping Morgan down with cool washcloths, administering medication, keeping track of the numbers on the forehead thermometer (seriously the best invention ever), one of us at the bed and the other in a rocking chair like two country wise women. 

Her fever broke. 

There is no worse feeling than when your child is sick or hurt and you have no idea what to do. 

The river was down by the next morning and Morgan was back to bouncing around the house. We skipped church (for like the first Easter ever. Sorry Jesus) and drove to the inlaws for a full day of grandmothers' family get togethers. It was warm, perfect weather for the egg hunt, my kids were happy and having fun, everything seemed fine. 

That night, Morgan had a fever of 105 and threw up. 

Seriously child?!

So I did the same as the night before, this time with my mother-in-law as my fellow wise woman. Her fever broke. 

Next morning I told my husband we had to get home. I was so over taking care of a sick kid in somebody else's house. Morgan was fine all day. 

Guess what happened again that night?? 

Yep. High fever. 

She stayed home from school that Tuesday even though she felt perfectly fine.  During her bath that night I noticed she looked really blotchy all over her body, but she went to bed WITH NO FEVER!!! so I assumed it was some virus she was fighting and she was getting over it. 

Nope. 

The next morning she looked like this:

I immediately called her doctor who was getting ready to leave for the day. Morgan had slept in, and the doctor was leaving at 11, but he told us to come in immediately. I rushed her there, he looked her over and said 'she's got a penicillin allergy.'

What?!?  

She was in her 7th day of a high dose of penicillin. I had been poisoning my poor baby and had no idea. 

Of course we stopped the medication immediately and she was better by the next day. I posted about it on Facebook and all of my husband's family commented that they were basically all allergic to penicillin, including Michael's dad. My grandpa also had the allergy. I don't down if it's something that is genetic or not, but I made sure both of my sister-in-laws were aware of a possible allergy. 

So next week is Thanksgiving....please no plagues or rashes or floods or flus or arms falling off, okay?  

Have a blessed holiday!  

One of those days...again.

It's been a day. 

I was going to post about it on facebook but it's just too much for one status. Better to write a blog instead. 

So as parents we've all had 'one of those days' and for me, today was definitely one. It's not the first and won't be the last. 

For starters, Michael left by 7am for a company golf tournament, no big deal, he needs a break from the crazy, but it left me alone with the kids until after 4. 

I set my alarm for 9 (don't judge or hate; it's summertime; and the kids and I will be miserable once school starts) so we could get up and ready for church. Getting myself and both kids ready for church is always epic. I have no idea. Getting them ready for anything else never takes nearly as long and never has as much drama. All I can say is the devil must be workin on my kids on Sunday mornings. 

Church is less than ten minutes from our house thank goodness. Morgan loves going to her class but I literally had to shove Jack into the nursey. He loses his mind. He's fine in childcare at the YMCA, he's excited about going to preschool, he's a social butterfly at birthday parties and on playgrounds, but there's something about the church nursery that turns him into a giant wailing man child. At 3 he's one of the older ones anyways but he's also such a big kid (measuring the same height at 3 as Morgan at 5) and so loud. I almost always have to stay with him. I always rock him for about 10-15 minutes and then he slowly starts to mingle with the other kids. And by mingled mean he tries to play with a toy and then another little one touches it so he starts screaming 'no baby!!!! Bad bad baby!' and wails. Today he was working on a puzzle and another little guy came over, took a piece and slobbered over it. Jack was totally over life after that so he pulled a storage tote over himself to escape reality. 

I had told the kids that after church we would go get some lunch to kill time before dance class registration. Jack wanted McDonald's. Morgan wanted pizza. I tried to talk them both into the same thing but they are really friggin stubborn. I pulled into Pizza Hut and Jack started crying. I told Morgan I could take him in to eat like that. I went to McDonald's and Morgan started crying. I totally snapped and started spewing things like how they are both spoiled brats and I should send them to live in  country where they have to sleep on a dirt floor and have no toys and that I was going to pick a place to eat and if they cried I was going to sell them to gypsies and/or never take them swimming again (they love the pool).  So we ended up at Eat N Park and they were angelic...or angelic for them at least. 

Then I had to take them to register Morgan for her 3rd year of dance classes. Jack was uncooperative and demanded to be held the entire time. I hurt my back yesterday jogging (like how does that even happen? You don't need your back to jog...) so it was awesome having to hold a 44 pound child. 

We went home where both kids stripped to their underwear like they always do at our house. We had a little down time before Michael got home. 

As soon as Michael walked in, Jack starts doing his 'my booty hurts.'  He's been having issues with potty training. He's holding it in, fighting his poop urgent. It's so frustrating.  I made him sit on the toilet and told him to just try, and apparently we forgot to 'tuck the junk' because he peed all over me. So I yelled for help and Michael took care of him while I stripped off my peed on clothes and hopped in the tub to rinse off my legs. 

Some of our neighbors have an awesome pool my kids beg to go to almost daily. I had texted our neighbor to see if we could swim and she invited us up at a certain time.   I told Michael I couldn't take Jack while he was fighting poop so Morgan and I got ready to go swim. After about half hour Michael shows up with Jack and explained that he told Jack if he would just poop he could swim. So he did. Michael walked back home, Jack swam a few minutes, then got out of the pool screaming 'my booty hurts!!' while running in place, turned red, then said 'oh I popped.' 

In his swim trunks. 

So I got out and texted Michael to come get Jack.  He walked back over and I told him to just stay with Morgan while I took care of it. I walked Jack to our yard, took his trunks off, flipped the hidden treasure into the yard, grabbed the hose and told Jack to bed over, sprayed him clean, sprayed the trunks clean, left them on porch to wash later, put clean trunks on Jack, took him back to pool. 

I'm sorry to say this isn't the first time I've had to do this. Which means it's also not the first time Michael has had to bag up poo from our yard. 

The rest of the evening was fairly normal, in terms of 'normal with kids.'  Late dinner, baths, bed. 

These type of days make me crazy. But they also make some of the best memories. 

I'm THAT parent.

This blog was inspired by a Facebook post today. A very lovely kind sweet friend posted about how horrible parents are for bullying their children. I totally agreed until I read 'the mom got up in the child's face and said 'what is WRONG with YOU?!''

I read it a few more times just to be sure I was reading it correctly. And then I sighed. Because I AM that parent. 

I commented along the lines of 'I have both kids 24/7 with very few breaks and sometimes this just happens; I AM that parent and I'm sorry.'

And then my sweet friend deleted the entire post and I felt bad. 

So then I evaluated my own parenting. 

I realized that yes, I lose my cool way more than I should. I'm the parent that hisses 'you kids are driving me insane!!' while in line at Walmart. I'm the parent that says 'lordy I need a drink after all day with these kids.'  I'm the parent who exclaims 'I just need A BREAK!!  Please stop 'momming' me for 5 minutes!! Yes I see you have arm muscles, I complimented you on them 30 seconds ago the 5th time you demanded I look!'

But I'm also the parent that gave up my career 7 year ago so that I could be at every single doctor's appointment, school function, birthday party, practice, game, every single memory of my children's childhood will involve me. I have spent many nights awake with sick little ones. I have planned out and created theme birthday parties. I have volunteered at school. 

Sometimes we have ice cream sundaes for dinner outside on the deck. Sometimes we have dance parties in the living room. Sometimes we read 20 books in a row. Sometimes we go outside to see the stars after bedtime. 

After watching the movie Inside Out (twice...and both times I cried), my children claimed who was who from the movie. Morgan is Disgust. Jack is Fear. Daddy is Anger (lol!!) and when I asked who mommy was, they both smiled and said 'Joy of course!'

So for my sweet slightly hippy friends and readers; there are many of us who might seem like bullies. We might seem very annoyed to have children. But you're just glancing at a fraction of our lives. I promise you, I might sound horrible when I hiss 'ugh, you kids just go over there and play and leave mommy alone for a minute!' but I promise you my children are both well adjusted happy normal brats, and not victims of bullying. The majority of my friends parent pretty much the same way I do, and we all say God bless you parents with more patience than us!