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Highs and Lows

Hair by Emma

So this happened today…

 

But then Abby came home and showed me that this happened…

She got a medal for winning the Principal’s Award for the month of October. She came home yesterday with a certificate and I tried to figure out what it was for. She confused me and I thought she meant that 5 kids in her class each got the award. No, five kids out of the whole school (one from each grade) were awarded. My stinker doodle doesn’t know how dang awesome she really is.

The snow is starting to melt. It’s not completely gone and we’re supposed to get more tonight. I know, I know, I live in Minnesota and this is inevitable. It was quite a swing to go from 80 degrees to snowing all in the same week.

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When I was a kid…

Hair by Emma

When I was a kid we only did fundraisers for school when we were going on a special trip for class or something. School just began and both of my school aged children have brought home fundraisers for their school. I know, school funding is no where near adequate, but the crap they sell is expensive crap and when I tell my 2nd grader no she gets all puppy dog eyes at me.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make room in the freezer for the dozens of frozen cookies and pouches of soup I ordered.

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Vacation, all I ever wanted

Hair by Emma

Summer vacation is coming to an end. School clothes and supplies have broken the bank and made my wallet weep. New teachers have been met and old teachers have been hugged. Mom is counting down the seconds until school begins.

Yes, I have three 4-year olds still at home during the day; but I find myself yelling at the older two more than I am getting after the triplets. One has to control how everything is played while the other erupts each time her sisters take a breath. She’s 13, it’s to be expected.

My brain is fried. This is about all I have at the moment. Just wanted to let y’all know I am still alive and the kids haven’t killed me… yet.

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Veiled Insults

Hair by Emma

My mom lives with us. She kinda has to since we tore her house down and built this house in it’s place. Since we’re doing this whole new house thing without taking out loans we ran out of money and steam power to build more before we got to the garage with her apartment on top. Until we build her this magical apartment she lives with us in one of the four bedrooms that make up the bottom floor of our split level house.

She is the Queen of Veiled Insults. She always has been very good at doling them out. Like when I was in High School and those long boho skirts were kinda in style. She told me that only skinny tall girls looked good in them when I wanted to buy one and was totally clueless as to way I walked away from her in tears.

I’ve learned to just let them roll off my back as I’ve gotten older. I still catalog them in my brain (when it works) for later rants with James after the kids have gone to bed. Since I am afraid I’ll forget these two gems she lobbed my way today and I don’t think posting them on Facebook is all that wise wince it might get back to her (What? I’m Minnesotan! We’re nice in that passive aggressive roundabout sort of way!) I thought, what the hell I’ll post it on my blog!

When we met my sister in law none of us could believe this cute nice girl wanted anything to do with my brute of a brother. Twelve years later we’re still scratching our heads. I hope my brother knows how lucky he is. My mother sure as hell wishes my sister in law was her biological daughter.

My sister in law has her very tidy house and two sons who know how to put their toys away (or she puts them away for them after they go to bed). She routinely sorts through her sons’ toys and has a differently selection in this little alcove in their living room. Just enough to play with but not look like a flipping toy tornado ripped through their house.

My kids have way too many toys. Christmas was just a month ago and we clearly don’t follow that One Out One In rule that more organized people do. Instead once or twice a year I distract my kids with something else while I throw toys into two bags – donate and garbage. This works for the most part. Until I forget to hide the donate bag well enough before it can be dropped off at Goodwill and the kids find it.

Picking up while your kids are awake is especially futile when you have triplets. Instead of thinking you are fighting a losing battle you are just laying there on the battle field hemorrhaging before the first shot has been fired. By the time they go to sleep you’re too exhausted to even think about picking up toys and silently bringing them down to their room which is a minefield of little dolls and legos.

Kaboom!

My mom has managed to pick up the living room while we have been away for the past 3 weekends finishing up our other house. The sale of which will provide money for the garage and apartment (and a boat for James apparently). My house will be clean when my kids all retreat to their bedrooms because they hate us. You know, when puberty hits. The only thing that keeps Emma out of her room these days is the fact that we won’t allow her to have a computer in her bedroom.

There was something else that I am clearly lacking in in my mother’s eyes but my brain has forgotten it already. I am sure I could’ve made all sorts of funnies about it in a self deprecating way but instead I’ll make all sorts of jokes about how stupid my medication is making me. Hahaha. Oh, it’s not all that funny.

So, if you come over to my house and tell you the same story for the third time while you tip toe around MegaBloks and Polly Pockets please understand the dog ate my homework.

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Hair by Emma

I’ll come up with a title later. Just like I’ll come up with a coherent blog post. Neither one of those things are going to turn out like I want them. Instead – verbal vomit!

I open up the Add New Post link and I want to write. I want to get all of this stuff that’s buzzing around in my head out. Some of it really shouldn’t be shared out on the internet. Feelings would be hurt much more than they already are and I seriously doubt spilling it out of my ears would solve anything.

I want to write. I love to write. Kids and medication seem to have taken my memory away. I take a beta blocker for monthly migraines and those damn beta blockers have also blocked my short term memory. Sure, everyone walks into a room once in a while and forgets why they went into that room. It happens to me nearly every time I walk into a room. My husband gets frustrated with me because I left the house without my purse or the keys to the house. Having 5 kids asking me little favors while I am on a mission completely derails me train of thought. Propranolol and triplets do not mix.

I have learned some things in these first couple of weeks of 2012. OK, I knew this one before but I thought I could fool myself into doing otherwise.

I can’t dance.

Not in that Phil Collins cheesy early 90′s song kind of way, although that song came into my head a lot, but in a Zumba-following what the chicks with the awesome butts on tv do sort of way. I don’t have an awesome butt. I have a rather flat butt and absolutely no hips. A blessing you say? Not really. Finding jeans that fit my body type is damn near impossible and I’ve even thought about buying jeans in the men’s department.

If it weren’t for my boobs I am sure people would call me sir. Kidding. Kinda.

I did lose 2 pounds. Well, I lost 6 but now it’s almost that time of the month and I gained 4 back. Jerk.

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Happy 8th Birthday, Ethan

Hair by Emma

Today my son, Ethan, would have been 8 years old. I constantly wonder what he would’ve been like.

 

That was made the day he died (December 22nd). Emma helped the social worker who helped us through that horrible time make it. I am so glad that we were able to make it and spend as much time as we did with him. It was no where near enough but I will always cherish it.

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Not NaBloPoMo’ing


Man, that sounds like diarrhea.

This is the first year (I think) since NaBloPoMo started that I am not posting every day for the month of November. I have a hard enough time posting something just once a month, let alone every single day in a month. Sure, I could use this month to get myself back into the writing mood, but I’m not.

I don’t know why I have been closing myself off to the world of the internet. I’ve been sucked into playing those Cityville and Farmville games on Facebook. Blame that eldest kid who finally started use Facebook and if an ad says “PLAY ME!” she’ll totally click it and then ask me to help her out in said game. Since I spoil my kids rotten I totally give in and then I am sucked into the world of building cities and planting imaginary eggplants.

I don’t tweet much any more. I don’t comment on blog posts or pictures as much as I used to. My kids are getting older and somehow need me more than ever. I am their playmate and bandage applier (to non-injuries).

Yeah, I have awesome blog post ideas and funny things to write about every day. By the time I get to sit down undisturbed at a computer (when every single person and animal is asleep) I’ve forgotten what I wanted to write about or the wine has made the keys move around on the computer.

So, no, I am not writing every single day for the month of November. I kinda miss it but I kinda don’t. If you’ll excuse me, my kids are yelling at me to come see the HUGE squirrel that’s eating the apples off the crab apple tree outside.

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Summer’s End

Hair by Emma

This weekend is the unofficial end of Summer. Tuesday, the older kids go back to school and the little kids are left with just me to torture play with. Suddenly the weather is cooling down and the sun is setting at a half decent time. (If you have young children you know what I mean. The kids, they don’t want to go to sleep when there is still a hint of sun in the sky!)

These last couple of weeks we’ve had the added hell fun of having my nephews over during the day. Two more kids with a million questions that require answers and only the answers they deem to be correct. They get a chance to play with little girl toys and I get a chance to tell them NO they cannot play on the computer every 5 minutes.

I have weird rules. When it’s nice outside, you’re supposed to be outside. When it’s raining, then we can watch movies and play on the computer. There’s no screaming in the house and the bathroom faucet isn’t a toy. My own kids think I am nuts, add two more into the mix who aren’t used to my “rules” and then you have a million more questions about why you have the rules you have.

Kids have a memory span of a goldfish. They quickly forget how brutal Minnesota winters can be. How we are stuck inside for most of the year because, like the rent, the snow is too damn high. The temperature is too damn low and the Christmas tree stays up for 3 months to make it a little more interesting. Who can beat a daily tree lighting, countdown and all?

I’ve completely lost track of where I was going with all of this. The questions! Now they want to know what I plan on feeding them for lunch. You’d think I was their parent or something.

Now you know why I drink.

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Mow mow mow your lawn

Hair by Emma

I mow the lawn. I hate mowing the lawn, but it has to be done. James has really bad allergies (or so he says) so he can’t mow the lawn without his eyes swelling shut and looking like he pulled an all nighter with a keg of beer.

Our new yard is easily four times the size of our old lawn. It’s a familiar lawn. I grew up mowing this lawn. Back when I was spry young filly and could get the whole thing cut in a couple of hours without breaking much of a sweat. Now, I have to stop several times to get a drink of water and whine to my 12 year old about how when I was her age I was mowing the lawn AND washing the dishes by hand.

After getting my daily eye roll I head back outside and start the mower up again. The handle is staying on only by sheer will and complete stubbornness of it’s operator (me). I changed the blade yesterday (ok, I had to call my brother to come over and loosen the bolt) because the mower was only cutting 2/3rds of the grass. I am WonderMama – I need a theme song and some help stringing the thoughts of this post together.

The point of this post..? I am sore. My back is killing me and I am one crabby woman this morning. James had the balls to say “no pain no gain” to me when I complained. He might be feeling my knee in those balls later when I see him face to face. He might also be feeling a bit of pain when I take him to buy me a self propelled mower this weekend.

At least with a self propelled mower I can make myself believe I am getting some exercise.

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It’s So Complicated


When your kids are wee little things it is easy to blow about whatever cute little thing that they did the day to make you laugh so hard that you nearly pissed yourself. When they hot the puberty stage of life things get a little more complicated. They start turning away from you because you’re dumb and they are not. Duh. They start to internalize their emotions and you are stuck with picking up little cues as to what is up. Sure, they still do things that make you laugh to the point of nearly peeing yourself but if they catch you laughing you’re instantly stung with the glare of death and doom.

Stuff is going on with my eldest that I am trying to find my way through. I don’t think it is in my kid’s best interest to blog about it. She’s 12 and is already so guarded. I don’t want to break into that for blogging material bit at the same time I wish I could so that I might get some help navigating my way through this swamp of puberty.

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