where the hell did she hear that?

So little adorable 2 year old C dropped a GD at school today. School is Mom's Morning Out at our church. Yikes
I will be the first to admit I have a potty mouth, but I try to curb it around my kids. And I don't say GD. I say shit, a lot. I say damn this and damn that. But I don't say GD.
Nor does my husband. Which leaves me to wonder where she heard this. And also embarrasses me because you know all of her teachers think that hubby and I throw that word around all the time if C is repeating it.And I am not easily embarrassed. If her teacher had told me that C said "what the shit?" when another kid took her toy at playtime, I would have nodded and apologized and thought, yeah, I should be more careful. If her teacher would have told me that C said "damn that chipmunk", I would have made an oops face and thought "better watch what I say around the little sponge". If one of the boys had said "what a dumbass" while at school I'd have thought, must tell hubby to stop watching the evening news and commenting on it in front of the kids.

But no, she dropped a GD and I honestly don't know where she even heard it. I am not easily offended, but I know this particular phrase really bothers people and I respect that. And although I do cuss like a trucker at times ( in the presence of adults), I am respectful of God and my faith and want to impress that upon my kids. I certainly want my kids to remain innocent as long as they can, and want their faith to grow untainted. But you know people think she heard that from me or hubby and judge us for it. I would.
I want to be a good influence on my kids, but I want them to be a good influence on other kids as well. I don't want my kids to be the ones with whom the other parents don't want their kids playing.
Our children are such reflections of us, and of the love and faith and compassion we show them. So I'm a little embarrassed that I look a bit like a heathen now. Especially since I heard A tell the same teacher one Sunday morning that he got in trouble for hitting me in the head with a frying pan.

Don't wish your life away

I remember being in High School and complaining every single Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday that I wished it was Friday.
All school year I wished it was Christmas break, then summer vacation. In college I wished I was finished with college. It just seemed like I was in limbo. Not really an adult, but not a kid any more. Then when I was working I wished it was five o'clock all day, and I wished for the next three day weekend. It was like discontent was rooted inside me, wherever I was and whatever I did. I was happy, but not happy enough. I was living in the present, but not appreciating it because I was spending so much time wishing for something from the future to materialize.

What a waste...the present is not insipid or insignificant. Once, when I was about 16, after complaining to my mom about wishing it was my birthday or flag day or Arbor day or whatever, she said "Don't wish your life away!" How poignant and true. I have tried to remember this ever since. But it is something I have to practice. Of course we are going to look forward to things and be excited and hopeful and anticipatory. Of course some days will be so rotten that we will want to sleep until they are over. Absolutely there will be moments we will not revel in, that will haunt us even. But that doesn't mean that there isn't beauty and opportunity that we over look. I am not going all "Carpe Diem" here. This is bigger, and smaller than that. This is just stop and look around at your life and think "things might be better when (fill in here), but damn if (fill in here) isn't pretty great RIGHT NOW".

I didn't fully appreciate that warning from my mom until I became a mom as well. As a mother, it has been : I wish my kids would sleep through the night"."I wish my kids were potty trained." "I wish my kids were old enough to sit still for more than 15 minutes." But my kids just ARE...and they are pretty fantastic how they ARE right now. I would have missed so much fabulousity had I wished away all the time when they were learning and growing into semi-independant little people.

I watched a cheesy fairy-tale on TV today. Prince Charming and the whole bundle. And I realized that there is no other life I want. There is no other person I'd rather spend time with than my husband. There is not a man I could love more. There is nothing I'd rather do than mother my kids, and occasionally write a little. I am not waiting for some proverbial shoe to drop to make me happy. I am not holding my breath until so and so happens. I am not in limbo. I am fully immersed in life in the present. I am so lucky and blessed and happy. Now I can only wish that it lasts, a long long time.

my wish

I hate it. I mean I really really hate it. Some people wish for a housekeeper, a yard man, or a really cute pool guy. I want a laundry fairy. I don't care if she is short or tall, thin or fat, beautiful or a hag, as long as the bitch can do laundry. And then put it all away. Because I will vaccuum my house and clean the toilets all day every day if I can avoid doing laundry. And it is never ending around here.

When the chuckleheads were little, it was endless little clothes and bibs covered in formula and spit up and poop from the up- the- back- blow-outs. As they are getting older it has progressed to various foods, dirt and sweat.

The twins are pretty average four year old boys. They play outside, they get dirty. But they can usually make it the entire day in the same outfit, unless one falls in a koi pond or something. But there are still two of them so that's a lot of little boy clothes, undies, pjs and socks.

C is a different story. She is lovely and girly, but rough and tumble too. She is also extremely messy. At any given time she is covered in dirt, glitter, cheese and/or chocolate. And if there is spaghetti sauce involved,  she wears it proudly. She goes through various outfits, and sometimes multiple pajamas a day. This is why she has so many hairbows..if the only thing left in her closet that is clean is a white onesie...at least she has a cute hairbow in her mullet.

Gritty Daddy is great about doing laundry, and it's a good thing because he is the worst offender. Not because he is messy, but because he is OCD. If he wears anything for more than 15 minutes it must be washed. On an average day he dumps the following in our hamper:  his work clothes, his gym clothes and towel,and his "home from work and hanging out clothes".  Yes, usually three outfits a day. See, never ending laundry here.

I try to do my part to cut down on laundry. I wash my clothes only if they are: a) dirty or b) stinky. By dirty I mean visible spots. By stinky I mean smell that can't be covered with body mist.  OK, I'm kidding, kindof. But there are some days when I am feeling so efficient that I don't even change out of my pajamas until that night when I put clean ones on. Why dirty another outfit needlessly?  See, I am all about taking one for the team.

So if you meet a laundry fairy, please send her my way. She will be treated well and highly appreciated. I will even bake her a peach cobbler or vanilla bread pudding every day if she will spray n wash and fluff and fold.

Creepy Carpet Guy

My carpets are yuck. I have 3 little kids who repeatedly drop sippy cups, candy, cereal, crayons, snot and vomit on the family room floor. It is gross. This is why we have them cleaned every few months.

I have a carpet cleaning company who I really like. It's all natural, chemical free, smells like oranges and dries quickly. They also don't make any comments that make me feel freakishly slovenly or ask what exactly is dried and crusted on the carpet.

But this time around, when the carpets started looking like a crime scene,  Hubby had a coupon. A coupon. 
"only $24.99 for 2 rooms and a hallway!"
But I like my citrusy smelling all natural friendly carpet cleaners.
"but it's $24.99"


So I called and set up an appointment.

Creepy Carpet Guy called on his way over to let me know he was on the way. His voice was somewhere between used car salesman and Pepe Le Pew.

When he arrived, his smell preceeded him. I am not kidding. It was a smell that radiated from him and infiltrated the house. Even after he left and the kids and I went to run errands, I still had the smell in my clothes. It wasn't B.O.  Just dirty.

And he leered at me. I think he thought it was charming.

He walked through my family room pointing out the stains that were no problem, and the ones that were definite problems.  The dining room was the same. The hallway was already pretty clean, but hey it was part of the coupon package so I might as well take advantage right?

CCG: "So, we'll sanitize and deodorize. And then I'll do a deep chemical treatment, then shampoo the entire area, sound good?"

me: "Great."

CCG: "OK, it will be $174."

(wait what? no, not great. and quit leering at me. )

what I actually said was

me: "Ummmmm, I have a coupon????"

Damn you and your coupon, husband. Damn you

CCG: "Yes, but the coupon just covers a basic shampoo, and these 2 rooms are bigger than an average room so they count as three instead of 2."

Oh, well THAT makes perfect sense now. I totally get the ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY dollar upcharge. 

I am not a timid housewife, sir. You will not leer at me, charm me or make me uncomfortable enough to pay you $174. But I am pretty uncomfortable.

me: "Let's just go with the general shampoo."

CCG: " Look, it will be totally worth it. They'll look like new."

me: " uh-huh, and then my kids will ruin it, again. I just want it to be respectable. Really, I am hoping to rip it up soon anyway."

CCG: " well you really need a deep chemical treatment to get you through til then."

He's not leering anymore. He looks downright ticked.

Now I am getting annoyed. I have three kids in my bedroom who are supposed to be watching Mike the Knight, but who I am pretty sure are doing highly dangerous acrobatics on my bed and trying on all my jewelry.

I can argue with the best of them. I am normally pretty easy going and sweet, really I am. But I can argue til the cows come home and the hens lay eggs etc. Because I must win. In fact, I am the first one to admit I like a good argument. I pick fights sometimes.
But I really did not want to be arguing with a complete stranger in my home. Especially CCG. Because I have a coupon, damnit.

So I nodded and said:" yeah, I am still thinking we should go with the general shampoo."

But no, it's not over!  CCG is a stubborn S.O.B.!

CCG:"What did you want to spend today, just level with me."

me:"$24.95, like the coupon says. Like I told them when I made the appointment."

CCG: " You should call your husband and ask him if he wants the chemical treatment."

OH, you can bet your ass I'll be calling my husband. Thanks for the coupon honey. Happy Valentine's day to me.

And I am pretty sure he doesn't want the chemical treatment. Because it isn't TWENTY FOUR NINETY NINE. 

And let's be serious. Do you really think that I defer to my husband? And if I did, do you think I would after THIS COUPON debacle.

So my carpets are marginally clean and I have renewed my loyalty to my citrusy cleaning friends. I will never be swayed by my cute husband and his coupon again.

an early morning

It's an early morning today.  The chuckleheads are sick, again. Poor wittle ones. So I was up dispensing ibuprofen and cough medicine and rubbing backs and burying my face in their warm little necks.  They still smell like my babies even though they are growing up.

Normally I'd relish the extra hour of sleep and fall almost comatose back in the bed after getting them settled, but I am feeling nostalgic and introspective this morning.  Since I am not thoroughly exhausted I should go work out or something, but let's be serious...not gonna happen. No, I fired up the Keurig and am drinking coffee in silence, marred by the click of the keyboard and occasional coughs from the kiddies' rooms.

Having three kids is a whirlwind of crying and laughing."Craughing" as another blogger I dig calls it.  www.craughing.com  She refers to it as an art form.  Which it totally is, like so much of parenting. You can have the most rotten day and then your kids can make you laugh and turn it all around. Or your day can be fantastic and one of your babies can be hurt or sad and your actual soul cries with and for them.

Three kids also equals a whirlwind of activity. It's hard to devote individual attention to anyone. I remember when they were all tiny and getting up throughout the night. Some of my favorite memories are the nights when they all woke up individually. Yes, this is because no one wants multiple babies wailing like cats in heat in the middle of the night, but it is also because I remember sitting on the couch holding ONE baby and really adoring that one child with my whole heart. It was the only time I spent with each one alone. Don't get me wrong, when they all three slept through the night, this girl was beyond happy.

Now they are older and they interact with each other more than with me. But this is amazing to watch as well. At any given time they are all three playing Alvin and the Chipmunks, or Bubble Guppies, or Cars, or Jake and the Neverland Pirates, or their new favorite, Octonauts. I love to see them use their imaginations and play so well together. It is also funny to see how their true personalities always mandate which character they play. And damn if they don't always pretend I am the villian. I try not to take it personally. I am just glad they are letting me play. I make a pretty good Captain Hook. Just ask my scallywags.

My husband is great, but I am better

No matter how great of a dad my husband is, there are some things that only I as mom can master. One is translation.  I cannot tell you how many times I have had to translate 1, 2, or 3 year old speak for other people. When whining is involved I even have to translate 4 year old sometimes. Not just for strangers, but my husband  too. I can make out what my kids want 99.9% of the time. Hell, sometimes I know what they want before they do.  He, on the other hand, sometimes stares at them for a minute then says, " I have no idea what you are saying". or "Go tell your mom because I don't understand,"  And then I am screaming from across the house "she wants some freakin pasta and hot dogs with strawberries and chocolate milk."  or
" He can't find his nightlight because C said it was a magic crystal and threw it off the troll bridge".  I mean really..is it that hard to understand?

Another thing only mom can do in this house...little girl hair. As some of you may have experienced...little girls go through a mullet stage. It grows in at different times and the lengths differ enough to create that long-famous white trash style. C has serious hair issues. She was bald FOREVER. Then she went through a phase where she was rockin rat-tails..then the mullet. The only way to combat the mullet is with pony tails or pigtails (preferably decorated with large bows)..or at least barrets.  My husband is completely incapable of any of the afore-mentioned. In fact I don't know if he has ever even brushed C's hair. So if I am gone for any length of time there is an excellent chance that I will come home to a daughter who looks like a hillbilly. And who knows what she will be wearing...

Which brings me to another mommy-only duty in this house: shopping for kids clothes. Usually my husband wouldn't even bother trying to buy clothes for the chuckleheads. He knows I , and my mom, buy plenty, too many really. But every once in a while when he is at Wal-Mart buying chlorine or contact solution he just can't help himself. He sees a t-shirt or something that he knows the kids would "just love". And it was "only $2". Well hell yeah it was only $2. Did you look at it? It must have been the ugliest Buzz Lightyear/Tinkerbell/SpongeBob shirt ever made. They should have paid YOU $2 to take that ugly thing out of the store. But at least it will look good with the mullet.

But I will give him credit where it is due. He can knock out laundry like a champ, make some mean hot dogs and beans (a chucklehead favorite around here) and he is great at building endless hot wheel or train tracks. He is also great about grocery shopping. He never forgets anything, and always knows what we are almost out of. He knows the kids favorite snacks, as well as mine. I have a friend whose husband came home from the grocery store sans apple juice and diet coke. "It wasn't on the list" he said. 
"Mother effer, don't you ever come home from the store without apple juice and diet coke, it is ALWAYS on the list" was her response.
My husband knows we better not ever run out of coffee, bananas and gatorade around here. And do not take the last coke (non-diet) in the morning when you can buy one from the vending machine at work and I am stuck here with three kids and have to get them all dressed and style the mullet and put on yoga pants and take our litter to the grocery store if I want one.

my confession

Okay, here it is. My confession.....Sometimes I feel like I am playing house. 

It just seems totally surreal that I am in my thirties and married with three kids and a home.  It's almost as if I am living out the scenarios I used to play in my head when I was younger and picturing my future.  (Except I didn't see three kids in less than 2 years.)  See wife kiss husband goodbye in the morning.  See mom drive kids to soccer practice/ swim lesson/ doctor appointment. See mom read a book to kids. See mom/wife make dinner.

Sometimes I find it almost ludicrous that three little people call me "Mommy".

It shouldn't. I always wanted kids. Always knew I wanted to be a mom. Couldn't wait to have babies. I was pregnant twice and had two c-sections and took care of three infants. And with all that being said, sometimes it hits me out of the blue that I am an adult. A true, bonified adult with a lot of responsibilities.

What the...?? 
When did...??

 I am in charge of making sure these little people eat and get to appointments and learn about life. I can make boo-boos better and memories of bad dreams vanish.  I have to discipline, and make them bathe, and enforce bedtime. I have to take care of them so they can take care of themselves one day. And thankfully I do a much better job of it than I do caring for myself.

I am a wife. I am someone's significant other. I am my husband's partner, best friend. I can also be his worst nightmare at times. I am demanding and overly-dramatic. As loving and fun as I can be, I am temperamental and draining. I am the other half of "we", and we must make a lot of decisions together. What color the walls will be and when it is time to move to a toddler bed and what we shoud have for dinner.  We pick up each other's slack. I am critical at times, and others I am his cheerleader. I remember when I used to just cheer for high school basketball.  Pretty arbitrary in comparison.

I've been present and active and happy every step of the way to becoming wife and mommy. It is exactly what I wanted, and what I planned. So it is odd to me that sometimes it catches me a little off guard to find myself here. Sometimes I am still surprised there is no one around to ground me if I misbehave, to give me a bad grade if I don't complete my homework, to make sure I eat well.  I can have brownies for dinner and stay up all night and wear pajamas all day.Well, I could if I didn't have to get up each morning and start a new day making sure my kids are taken care of and loved. And I guess I don't HAVE to do that, I GET to.  Because I have three little people who call me "Mommy".