So while driving the children to various activities, a warning light came on in the car. It was a newer message for me, Service Stability System. I was clueless as to what that meant. A little googling told me that that sort of message usually requires about $1200 to fix. The father figure was unimpressed with my hysterical phone call and refused to tell me which shop to take it to until he researched the matter a bit further. Something about having to know what the problem was in order to know where to take it. So he came home, did his own research and determined that the brake fluid needed topping off. To the tune of $3. The message disappeared.

No good comes from a hysterical mother googling. I had images of the car, carrying all five kids tipping over, having a stability system requiring service.  Google probably could see me, willing to spend anything to keep my poor minivan hostage children safe, and gleefully saw “SUCKER!!!!”

Or something.

Not that we saved any money. After a quick trip to the car parts store, it was off to Lowes. To spend zillions of dollars on repairs to the house, courtesy X-Man. We prudently decided on the cheapest toilet paper roll holder, as it primarily functions as that on which X-Man stands to look out the window. The window you can’t see out of as it is in the bathroom, but that doesn’t stop X-Man. Hope springs eternal I suppose. We also pick a cheap hand towel holder, as the nice one we bought broke under Cinco’s weight as she swung from it.

The father figure then proceeded to patch to hole in the ceiling, that came from X-Man’s numerous bathroom flooding’s. X-Man was excited to help the father figure; Cinco got her head stuck in the step stool. I’m taking bets on how long the new bathroom fixture last. I don’t anticipate X-Man flooding the bathroom anytime soon. Not due to the repercussions of his behavior, those seemed to make no impact. But now he’s no longer napping, and by napping I mean, sneaking out of his room while everyone else stays downstairs to keep it quiet.

Speaking of failing to properly respect naptime, Cinco can now climb out of her bed. She still sleeps in our room, again for the solitude that nap time requires. Only her naptime looks more like a hurricane, if hurricanes emptied drawers.  The phrase “no rest for the wicked” keeps running through

my mind. And as I’m the one not rested……..

Dear fellow toddlers,

If you think completion of potty training is the end of guaranteed personal time with mom, at least four times a day, think again. Just because she is no longer changing your diapers, you can still commandeer her attention. Since she is very desperate for you to be potty trained, she will most certainly play along.

1) Always refuse the underwear. It doesn't matter if it does indeed have Thomas the Tank Engine on it, or even Minions, no dice. NO UNDERWEAR. When she puts you on the potty for your first go around, make sure to put your hands on her face and pull her close to you and say "Peeze Mommy, Pullup no min-mins." She will still make you wear underwear, but will totally make you pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream. This counts as a win.

2) While she is making you smiley face pancakes, go ahead and remove your pants and underwear. Go and hug her legs and ask to see what she is doing. When she picks you up, she'll discover you're not wearing any pants. When she asks "Where are your pants?" Laugh, give your best smile and kiss her. She'll still make you wear clothes, but she'll give you strawberries as a consolation prize.

3) Remove your pants. Again. This time keep your underwear on. She will tell you "good job." Although that's not what she says to Daddy when he walks around in his underwear. Or Mac. Ignore the double standard as it benefits you and continue on. This too constitutes a win.

4) Refuse to use the potty when she takes you after breakfast. Refuse to use the potty before going outside. Cry and scream in need be. Wet your pants two minutes after going outside to play. You now will have mom's undivided attention while she changes your clothes. You'll probably have to sit on the potty again. But it will be worth it. Win.

5) Refuse to use the potty before and after lunch. Keep your pants on. She will consider this a win. Which is a win for you as she will tell you "good job" for doing what is expected from everyone else in the family.

6) Settle down for a movie, within the first five minutes, jump up and run to the bathroom. Yell "Poop in the potty" while doing so. This will get mom to run from wherever she is and assist you, while telling you what a good job you are doing.

7) Sneak out of your room at quiet time. Find where mom is, most likely holding the sleeping usurper, possibly dozing herself. Use the potty, quietly, then find mom. Stand with your nose almost touching hers, to make sure you will have her full attention, despite usurper's best attempts. Yell loudly "Chocolate! Pee in potty! Chocolate!" Usurper will cry, claiming you woke her up, but don't worry. Mom will be so pleased, she'll forgive the whole waking the sleeping baby thing.

8) Don't worry about using the potty again. You'll pee in the tub, which will require mom to draw you a new bath, but she'll blame the warm water. Pull up is on. You'll get extra snuggles though, for all your efforts.

Sincerely,

X-Man

PS for extra fun, try hiding the car keys in the bathroom drawer. While being forced to use the potty, count on usurper to try to throw a phone into the bathtub. Mom will be distracted. While she is removing usurper, press the red button on the keys. That will make the car very loud. And Mom will yell that usurper has the keys. She will be confused. Meanwhile, usurper will return to the bathroom. You get extra points if usurper follows Mom out the door, where she has gone to figure out what's wrong with the car, wearing your underpants on her head. About the time Mom sounds like she might explode, walk out to the car with the keys. Not wearing underpants, because they're still on usurper's head.

You'll totally have to go to quiet time after, but the looks on the olders' faces......worth it.

I miss the way we were.

There was a time when all you wanted in life was for me to hold you. Now, you want me to hold you, and let you drink my coffee and use my phone. While poking my eyes and trying to shove your fingers up my nose.

You use to light up when you saw me. Now you run away screaming "No, no no potty. No night night. NO OW NO!!!!"

You used to smile and turn your face up to meet the rain drops. Now you scream at me when I don't let you lick rain drops off cars.

You used to like to nurse. Now you demand to nurse while playing the hokey pokey.

You used to snuggle in my lap and watch TV. Now you try to eat the remote and demand to watch "Plonies" or "Homas."

You used to delight in eating any sort of baby treat. Now everything is inedible unless it is on my plate.

You used to let me dress you up, pretty head bands and cute shoes. Now you remove your clothing and throw your shoes. And scream if I don't pull the car over to put your shoes back on.

I used to be able to change your diapers. Now it becomes a wrestling match. But as you love to poop, the stakes are much higher.

You used to sleep through the night. Now you realized I try to do stuff when you sleep and you're afraid you're missing out.

You used to babble the sweetest things to me. Now I'm pretty sure you're cursing me out.

I used to be cute. Good thing you still are.

We can make this work, but you must stop moving the goal posts on me!

If you give a baby a cookie, she will ask for your cup of coffee.

When you don't give the baby your cup of coffee, she will cry real tears and reject her cookie outright.

If a baby rejects her cookie because you deny her your coffee she will stalk you through the house until you set the coffee down.

If you set the coffee down because the laundry won't do itself, the baby will climb up and get it.

If the baby climbs up and gets your coffee she will try to drink it. She will do it wrong.

If the baby tries to drink your coffee, she will decide that she is a big girl and should have a cell phone.

If the baby decides that she should have a cell phone, only yours will do.

If you deny the baby your cell phone, she will push the ottoman to the shelf where you store it.

If she pushes the ottoman to the shelf to get the cell phone, she will get the cell phone.

If the baby has a cell phone, she will happily text your friends.

If the baby texts your friends, the father figure will call you to tell you to take the cell phone away from the baby.

If you take the cell phone away from the baby, she will decide that only your laptop will do.

If the baby decides that only your laptop will do, she will cry for you to pick her up.

If the baby cries to be pick up, you will put your laptop down to pick her up. She will then attack the laptop. With yogurt and cookie and coffee covered hands.

If the baby attacks the laptop, she will pull up functions you did not know existed. And you do not know how to exit.

No good comes from offering a baby a cookie.

Oddly enough, I find myself exiting 2013 more happy, more hopeful and more peaceful than I entered it. Despite........

Things I said in 2013.

if you can't remember how to make your bed I'm pretty sure I can't remember how to make dinner.

I stay home with my kids because no one can give the quality of care to my children that I can. No one. I'm in a class by myself. On a side note, X-Man can remove his diaper while still wearing footed pajamas. He's faster when the diaper is poopy. And Mac just announced "I like to wear my underwear for three days if it has a cool picture on it." I didn't say what class my childcare was........

I don't know why all my children don't have red hair. I also don't know why any of my children have red hair.

I know that it's in New York, but the name is still the Statue of Liberty.  

I don't know who came up with contractions, but I'm pretty sure that they didn't want you to cry about them.

Don't open the oven when food is cooking. Just don't open the fridge. Don't shut the dishwasher while I'm unloading it. 

Why are you trying to climbing into the oven. Yes I know it's hot! It's an oven!

Don't lick the baby.

That which does not kill you makes you stronger. Which means this family is headed towards Incredible Hulkness or the morgue.

I don't really know what you want me to do about Mac continuing to say that Madagascar is a real place. 

Don't lick the baby's toes.

Things I thought in 2013


I mean, really, who HASN'T sat at the exit of Target while their son empties his rubber rain boots of all the food that fell in them. And then put them on his feet. And then remove them....because there's still food in them. 

Brushing X-Man's teeth with his own toothbrush=torture. Not brushing X-Man's teeth with any other family member's toothbrush = torture.

Well I guess if you have to jaunt down to labor and delivery, that's as good a time as ever to discover you only shaved on leg this morning.

Today's capricious and arbitrary parental rulings...thou shalt not kick the lap top, thou shalt not climbing into the baby's bed, mostly especially while she is sleeping. Protestations continue.

My mom stare is completely wasted on my children. Fortunately it is not wasted on shoplifters at Target.

I've tried to start this blog at least three times. It's not happening. Not for lack of material, no my kids all still live with me. But mostly because I'm so overwhelmed by it being December and all. I've tried making to do lists, but so far all I've done is count to purple. 

Today I made the following observations. 

Cinco really, really wants to lick the chimney. I don't know why. She will tolerate licking the oven, but only while I am cooking dinner. I'm not sure what it is that draws her, clearly not the stainless steal cleaner, well....knowing my kids perhaps they are putting stainless steal cleaner on the chimney. 

Cinco loves wrapping paper. She does not approve of wrapping paper on rolls. She believes strongly that it should remove it from them. And then rip it into tiny pieces so that it cannot be returned to the roll. 

The only place better to leave your swimming attire than the hardwood floors is the brand new furniture. Also, Mac swimming looks exactly like you think it will. Except even less refined. 

Cinco is impossibly cute. And poopy. Very, very poopy. In addition, it's alarming how much she eats. Very little of it, judging from her diapers, is actually food. 

It would be better if X-Man would stop feeding his tangerine peels to Cinco. 

McDonalds coffee drinks are buy one get one free. There's a reason for that. 

Baby and Baba talked me into buying pink cowboy boots for Cinco. I realized that I had failed to buy Cinco anything for Christmas. Oh, Santa is coming for her. But I figured that as I recently recovered the chimney, she had everything she need. Now she will eat the chimney while weaing pink cowboy boots. 

I have 75 homework assignments in my inbox. On Monday I had 5. Also, I'm pretty sure the father figure is having a birthday very soon. 

I'm tired. 

Cinco is eight months old today. Eight months. She also stood by herself. Baba tried to get her to walk. Santa is not coming for Baba anymore.

Today we're observing a fun game called "Well Played X-Man."

Misbehave in church and lose your doughnut privilege. Decide you need to use the potty, reveal a completely dry diaper and indeed use the potty. Hop off the potty and ask "noughnut mommy?"
Well Played X-Man.

Lay in bed and start screaming. Continue to scream until Mac comes to get mommy. Scramble up the ladder to the top bunk. Pretend to be sleeping when mommy come to your rescue.
Well Played X-Man.

Give Baba a kiss. Give her a second one. Pucker up your lips for a third. When she leans in, lick her face. Chortle in glee when she screams.
Well Played X-Man.

Climb into the bath tub. Scream when removed. Chase after daddy as he leaves the house. Face plant in the garden. Requiring bath.
Well Played X-Man.

See that mommy and daddy are leaving. Race after mommy to give her a big hug and kiss. Push yourself out the door yelling "bye Daddy!" but immediately divert to the large pile of snow yelling "missmiss!!!"  Yell "I want missmiss" when carried back inside.
Well Played X-Man.

Get angry at mom. Hit her. While hitting her yell "High five mommy."
Well Played X-Man.

It's been a ragegy day. A horrible infuriating day.

It's especially sad because it was indeed Mac's sixth birthday. I was on a roll. I worked out, made birthday cake pancakes and listened to Mac crow about how many presents he got. I was feeling guilty because it was mostly needed clothing and some school supplies. But he was super excited. Then the girls and I rushed out the door to make it to futsal.

And that's where the day fell apart.

I dropped Baby off at the door of the futsal arena since parking was impossible to find. I turned to see her rushing back out the door in tears. Yup, I'd misread the schedule so her team was walking out the door as we arrived. I felt lousy. Completely awful.

So we did some shopping and returned for Baba's game. Baby was still dressed for her game and Baba's coach jokingly asked me to fill out a waiver to allow her to play with Baba's team as they were missing several people. When he figured out that Baby was already signed up and had promised not to sue anyone, he told her she could play with them. She got very excited, handed me her candy (that I bought her to make her not be too angry at me) and my tablet that she had been playing a game on. And off she went.

The futsal arena is not set up well and is very crowded with lots of jostling and bumping. I had Cinco in the front carrier and my purse over my shoulder. Mac had stayed home with the father figure to play video games for his birthday. I noticed my purse seemed to be getting bumped a lot, but as I always had one child playing I didn't think too much of it. Well, that was stupid. At the end of the game, I discovered that my tablet was gone. Out of my purse, which admittedly, hadn't been properly closed. Lots and lots of rage ensued. Rage that could only be directed towards some invisible evil creepy person. Who steals from a gal holding a baby? Porlandia, it's really not that cool.



Foolishly, I called and turned off service before realizing that I would need service in order to track it. Although that would require the creep who stole it to turn on the gps and I don't see that happening. So before heading off to Mac's family birthday party, I panickly changed passwords on everything.

I can't shake the feeling of being violated. There are pictures of my kids in the hands of some jerk. That's what really frosts me. That entitled thief doesn't have the right to look at my kids. The father figure has listened to me rant about this, and simply smiles. He tried telling me that they've probably already wiped it, but then that leads to ranting about how they have no right to eliminate any videos or pictures of my babies. I'm just very angry.

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Annoyingly, this kept me from delighting in the very good futsal game both Baby and Baba played. I was very proud of Baby as she was playing against girls who were almost three years older than her. Although she came up to the arm pits of many of them, she more than held her own. As she was charging towards a significantly larger girl, Baba's coach leaned over to Baba and said "Your sister's an animal." Baby was very pleased to hear that.

Mac gave me a hug and told me that this was the best day ever. Which really helped. I'm glad that in all the chaos, he had a good day playing games with his dad and hanging with his cousins. He also couldn't believe all the presents he received.

And a cherry on top of the day of not awesomeness that I had, my brother in law gave my son a fart gun for his birthday. Yes, and X-Man has found it. Why do bad things happen to semi good people?

.

Today's the kind of day where you lay on the floor screaming. And as others try to comfort you, hit and try to bite them. Also, if you are sent to bed as it is a school night, make sure to share that "I don't want to" because that will totally change the situation. Stomping up the stairway will totally sell your case. Refusing to use the potty and refusing to wear a diaper makes complete sense. It is my fault that you didn't put your shin guards away when we get home. Why would you remember? This is, after all, only your fifth season. And would someone explain the point of a five point harness carseat if a toddler can, and routinely does, get himself out of three of the five points?

If you start your negotiations off with “Since you refuse to get me a dog……” they’re not going to go well. Consider this your friendly parental service announcement.

Believe me, I get that it seems forever to close on a house. Just moving in because it is empty is not an option, believe me I’ve researched it.

Also, I can’t leave the father figure unattended ever. He just wandered in and said we need seven more kids. It’s not for tax purposes, nor is it to actually discover where my breaking point is. He just saw a unicycling family of fourteen on TV and wants to role in their figurative footsteps. Because that’s what’s missing from my life, a unicycle.

So, that's my plate today.

Writing this out can’t do justice to Baby’s facial expressions and total Italian hand gestures. Even when Baby spoke her own language, and it wasn’t close to English, communicating her thoughts and feelings wasn’t a challenge.

“Why did we come here??!?!!”

“Because we need to pick up Baba from soccer.”

“But  I don’t want to.” (cross arms over chest)

“Ok, objection noted. However I’m not leaving here without Baba.”

“But I want to go NOW.”  (emphatically  huff with arms)

“Ok. But I don’t. And since I’m the driver…….”

“Hmph. I want to go. Daddy can come get Baba.”

“Well that’s a silly waste of gas. You want to play outside while we wait?” (child's eyes rolling while mother answers)

“NO. Because I don’t want to wait. And I don’t want to be outside.”

(car door opens, grumpy child gets out anyway)

“Make sure you stay where I can see you.”

“I want to go down the hill.”

“Well, I can’t see you at the bottom of the hill so no.”

“But I WANT TO. Why can’t we go home RIGHT NOW?”

“Because I don’t want the police to arrest me for abandoning Baba and I need to see you.”

“WHY DO YOU NEED TO SEE ME?” (insert wailing tears)

“Because mommy just got an Amber alert on my phone and I don’t want the next one to be for you.”

“NO. ONE. IS. GOING. TO. KIDNAP. ME.” (Accent each word with emphatic hand gestures.)

“The way you’re acting now, have to agree with that statement.”

“And the police aren’t coming.”

“Not willing to bank my weekend on that.”

Tears begin anew “Why can’t you come with me down the hill?”

“Hear that snoring? That’s X-Man. And Cinco’s sleeping too. Not leaving them alone in the car.”

“Why not? Why can’t I go home?”

“Because Thomas Wolfe says so.”

“You’re not making any sense and you’re doing it on purpose!”

“Yep.”

“MOOOOOOOM!!!!” Full body exasperation.

“So Baba’s practice is almost done, I’m going to go get her and you’re going to wait with the babies in the car.”

“BUT I DIDN’T GET TO PLAY!!!!’

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours because you wouldn’t  let me go down the hill.”

]“Uh huh. Well Mac had a high old time while you argued. So….yeah.”

“This isn’t fair!’ Strong sobbing now.

“You’re right.  I am way too nice to put up with this.”

“What does that even mean??? Why didn’t Daddy get Baba?”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why my mother’s helper is named Jose Cuervo.

I perhaps tolerated more arguing than a good mother should, but we were parked, in a crowded parking lot filled with other soccer parents and it was hot. So the windows were down. Both in my car and the cars next to me. And parents were in both of them. They were trying hard to look interested in whatever they were doing and like they didn’t care that I was seriously contemplating selling a child to the gypsies. Or they were just confirming that they were indeed thrilled not to be driving a clown car’s worth of children.

The exchange wasn’t a total waste of time. As I returned to the car, Baba in tow, a dad leaned his head out the window and said “That was better than TV.”

I think that I need to re-examine my responses to people who ask me if Gestated Cinco is my first. The whole "Nope, she's my fifth" basically results in shock and horrified looks and I sympathetic comments. Or just odd comments like "Well, I'M NOT having five kids." Well booyah for you, I'm not having lobster for dinner, what's your point?

I think I'll just start saying "She's my first......THIS YEAR!" That might stall some of the shock and horror.

I get big families are unusual. But I am working really hard not to appear as a circus side show and I would really appreciate the rest of the world just working with me in this area. They are all actually humans, I just have three more than you do. That's all. None of them have extra appendages or superpowers. Yes some of them do have red hair, thank you for pointing that out.

Yes, Gestated Cinco is still a little one. And she just happened to be sleeping when you exclaimed "Five kids! Why would you do that to yourself?" But guess what, babies three and four weren't sleeping you multipariousphobe. I just made that word up, but it fits.


And I really don't get why you get to say whatever rude thing pops into your three sizes too small head, but when I answer your absurd question about why I have the number of children I do with "Because my kids are cooler than yours" you get all offended. Hey, I call it like I see it. But thanks for helping me feel like a damn good mom, because I actually seem to like my kids.

And that's all I have to say about that. I think I need another vacation. I'm alarmingly cranky already.

Well, I wasn’t the mom whose kid blew his nose on her skirt during church. So there’s that.

                             

Church was particularly challenging. I need to change churches; it’s as simple as that. I need to be at a church that has chairs and not benches because, dang nab it I NEED MY SPACE!!!!!!  My children are trying to share my skin. Not it a “you ruined my life and now I’m a serial killer” sort of way.  But the “I luv you SOOOOO much and am pretty sure that I am pushing the boundaries of socially acceptable behavior and so I will try to cuddle with you and hope you forget” kinda way.  At least the serial killers take your head and then leave you alone.

I begrudge Cinco nothing. Mostly because she’s a baby, but also because she’s consistently my best behaved child. She sat pleasantly on my lap and observed the antics of her older siblings.  Mac wrapped his arms around one of my arms and batted his eyes angelically. “Aren’t I doing a good job mom?” “Uh, man did you brush your teeth today?” “Uh no, I forgot.” “How did you forget? I told you three times.” “Well I forgot because I didn’t want to. And I had to do my haircut”

Ah yes, Mac’s haircut. Until last Friday, Mac’s personal stylist was Calvin of Hobbes. I would comb his hair and then find him hiding behind doors messing it back up. As we have a family wedding this weekend, I found it necessary to take him to the barber. She cut it short, after observing that his hair grew in every direction. The little that left lays very flat, much to Mac’s delight. Which is very new. But whatever, he combs his hair three times a day.

So there was Mac on one side, carrying on a conversation with me, while Baba had her arms wrapped around me. She was actively trying to bury into me with her head. There was about seventeen acres of real estate between me and the father figure, who  was sitting calmly as X-Man chanted “No, no, no. no.” Which is his general attitude towards church. That is until the doughnuts come out.  Meanwhile I was actually wearing three other people.

Baby wearing’s for slacker moms. Grade schooler wearing is where it’s at.

It’s rare that I am grateful for X-Man’s heretical attitudes towards organized religions and the buildings in which they gather. But eventually his vocal objections grew unignorable and his overwhelming desire to be removed from the premises by non-other than his mother actually played to my advantage. It’s one thing for a toddler to scream “Put me down, leave me alone, no, no, no.” Quite another when it’s the mother. 

I like new experiences. Like falling asleep in the dentist chair, while they worked on a Detroitesque—both in size and scope—cavity. Better yet, I like making my way to the waiting room where Baby, Mac and Cinco were waiting, only to hear the receptionist ask “Are those kids still there? They’re so quiet!” Baby was holding Cinco, because she had just had a dirty diaper and Baby didn’t want Cinco to have to sit in it. ~melt~

Mac was reading Tintin. Truly reading it. So the cockles, whatever those are, in my heart were very warmed.

Baba was at camp and had to organize twenty girls, her age, and have them do a play. They wouldn’t listen to her. She asked me indignantly “Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when no one listens to you?” Hmmmm…….

X-Man removed his diaper and peed all over the bed. However, it was his bed so I’m taking that as a win as well. Over all it’s been a good day. 

You know, kicking my chair when we were stuck in traffic was especially helpful. When you yelled go mom! Go!” It reminded me that I had superhuman powers which allowed me to pass through traffic as if a beam of light. I’m shocked that I forgot about them. And thank you for pointing out that the shoulder was available to drive on, just in case I felt like not using my forgotten superpowers. I can’t think of all the time I wasted sitting in traffic before your came into my life.

Thank you for reassuring me that it was ok that you didn’t make it to the bathroom in time and my bedroom carpet paid the price. Remembering that “it’s ok because it wasn’t stinkies” really set my heart at ease.

I wouldn’t have realized that “Wow mom, that’s how much you weigh!” at my last prenatal appointment, if you hadn’t been there. Also, I’m glad that you pointed out to me that my tummy is “squishy” and that I “probably have another baby in there.”

Thank you for mentioning that dinner smelled “gross.” It totally inspired me to cook something different. Maybe mentioning that a few minutes before we sit down to eat would guarantee a more understanding response from your mother.

I’m glad you can “totally tell” that I’ve “never been to jail.” But I’m not sure you should ask if your father has been to prison.

I had planned to pretend it wasn’t actually my cell phone ringing as we headed up to communion together. But it worked out better that you ran back to the pew yelling “I’ll get it mommy.”

I think the chalk outlines of your siblings on the driveway actually made the realtor’s job easier.

Teddy from Costco is a lovely man. But is actually NOT your father, no matter what you say. Loudly.

My cell phone is actually really just a device to play games on. Thank you for reminding me how unusually cruel it is for me to try to use it for work purposes.

I know that the first fourteen times you asked to play the Wii, I said no. But when you asked for the fifteenth time, I realized that you were asking to play the Wii, and that was totally cool. Thanks for your persistence.

It was wise of you to lose your binky in the Target parking lot. I will make sure to treat it with more caution and respect in the future. 

I want you to be able and comfortable in coming to me at any time and for anything. Even at 5am. When your brother climbs into bed with you. And steals all your blankets. You should totally come to me. And make sure your burst through my bedroom door yelling, just in case I’m sleeping.

I appreciate the distinction you made when you explained that I told you to not write on the car and when you drew people on the car is was drawing, not writing and therefore not naughty. It was an oversight on my part.

Thank you for teaching me that “gets dress so we can get on to school” means “sit in your room and sing…..naked.” I needed to learn about that aspect of well-adjusted behavior.

I’m still not clear on what “Be quiet and go to bed” means. Because it sure doesn’t mean what I thought it meant. Sorry I’m such a slow learner.

They tell you to not cry over spilled milk, but when you’re two year old dumps your fresh hot latte all over the car while you’re nursing another child, well it’s hard not to. Especially when said latte was supposed to be your breakfast and lunch.

Then there’s after a long, late night nursing session, when your baby decides to thank you by vomiting up all of her dinner.  That’s a horrific case of spilled milk, because it requires clean up and changing and, worst of all, more late night feeding and less late night sleeping. It’s almost as painful as the time I dumped a bottle full of hand expressed milk. I still cry thinking about it.

I ran everyone to bed early tonight, because I’m feeling so very tired. It’s like the last three weeks have finally caught up with me. Of course the father figure has been snoring for the last three hours. Because he’s tired. I wanted to hit him, but that involved putting Gestated Cinco down, and that’s just not an option right now and it also required more effort than I can muster.  So I’ll mutter things sarcastically to him while he’s sleeping, in the hopes of permeating his dreams.

The problem with having a relaxing, calm Mother’s Day is that it just helps reinforce how very, very tired you really are. Gestated Cinco was born almost four weeks ago and I have yet to have a day off. Well, there was the day after she was born, but even then, I didn’t get to sleep until 4am. We left the hospital and ran errands, I kid you not. The next day I was at Baby’s soccer game, doughnuts in hand for her birthday, while listening to mandatory job training. It’s been nonstop. Partly because of how the father figure’s job situation played out, partly because our living situation doesn’t allow me to relax ever, and gas prices require me to consolidate trips. I’ve laughed about being a failure as at the whole stay at home aspect of motherhood, but I’m not laughing anymore. I’m just eating copious amounts of m&ms. 

Which might not be what Gestated is looking  for in her diet. Which than might explain why she is so not 

interested in anything but being held by me. But she’s perfectly cute so I’m down with that.

But it makes typing hard. And I gots my priorities. Not to mention that if she happens to drift off, I have a better chance of drifting off myself. And as it stands now, she's fascinated by the big, bright computer screen. 

You don't own me, I gave birth to you

You don't own me, I’m paying for you all the way

And I tell YOU what to do

And I’ll tell you what to say

And please, when I go out with you

Don't try to run away.

You don't boss me,  I’m changing your diaper anyway

You don't scare me, but I’ll tie you down so you stay

So don’t drink my coffee now

Please put my toothbrush down

Stop screaming and hitting me

That's all I ask of you

You’re young but you think you’re grown

To be free doesn’t mean run away from me

You’re free to live your life as you want

When I’m not held criminally liable.

So yeah, I’ll tell you what to do

You bet , I’ll tell you where to stay

Just do your best not to humiliate me

please, when I go out with you

Don't  make me a  display

I have to hold your hand

I’m supposed to keep you safe

So just let me keep you alive

That's all I ask of you

You’re young and  love to be young

I'm tired and I want to nap

Let’s live life the way I want.