Sunday, July 22, 2012

3 1/2 weeks and it's ON!

The countdown is on to "back to school" at my house.  Since my offspring attend private school, they start a couple of weeks earlier than do other kids in our neighborhood.  That generally makes for some whiney boys come bedtime since "no one elllllllllse" has to go to bed early.  However, trying to establish a "routine" is critical when they're waking up long before they normally would.  I'm starting to wonder if that's more for me than it is for them because... well... they'll get up when I get them up regardless if they've had adequate sleep OR NOT!

We need...

haircuts?  Yes

New shoes?  Yes

New uniforms?  Yes

School supplies?  No.  No?  You heard me.  NO!  Oh no.  We don't need those here.  Why?  Because this mom is the devil.  (Did you forget?)  Our Parent/Teacher Organization does the "back to school supply packs" and I've purchased them the past two years. I think they're pure genius.  Am I letting my kids miss out on one of the greatest rites of passage of childhood by not letting them participate in the back to school supply shopping? Perhaps, however, I'm not losing any sleep over it.   

Why?  You ask?

Frankly, I hate shopping -- for anything.   EVEN back to school supplies.  Don't get me wrong. If I happen to be at Wal-Mart, I will absolutely go load up on stuff (FOR THE HOUSE) but having a list requesting a specific pencil brand, color and lead softness is enough to make me want to shove one right in someone's pupil!  Whatever it is that I need, is ultimately what they will be out of and I simply refuse to go to five different stores searching for a particular pencil pocket or a certain color of folder.  Ain't gonna happen.  Sorry about 'cha luck!

So, as it stands, we have three and a half weeks to get this ship into shape before it sets sail Thursday, August 16.  And, ooooooh what a crazy day that day is going to be.  

Why? You ask.  (You sure ask a lot of questions, ya know?)

Because I have three boys.

Three boys going in three different directions.

Three boys going in three different directions at three different times.  

I am but one mom.  I like to have a little bit of a life, too.  (Shocker, I know.)  I am not one of those moms who relishes these moments of this stage in life.  Frankly, I think it's a complete ass whip.  And you can quote me.  If you're going to quote me, however, please make it much more prophetic.  

Josh has to be at school the first day at 7:15 a.m.  SEVEN FIFTEEN?  Josh doesn't care about the back-to-school photos... even though I secretly want to follow him in to snap snap snap away but that's mostly just to embarrass him.  Hey, when you've got a teenager, you get your jollies where you can!

Drew will need to be at school by 7:45 a.m.  Drew is at the stage where you have to take the obligatory teacher/student photo.... a photo of him at his new desk... a photo of him walking into the school... at his locker.... We could regurgitate the abundant amount of Kodak moments that are taken every single year ad nauseam on the first day of school (and I'm sure they'll all be posted to Facebook).  However, I'm going to assume that most of you have been there / done that and so it probably isn't necessary.  Yet, if you're really wanting to savor these moments, do a Pinterest search.  I'm sure someone has created a colorful checklist for you to print, laminate and utilize every single year!  Oh the joys of the internet!  We can all appear like we have it all together all the time and be color coordinated, too!  

Back to the plan... that would be two boys down, and one to go.  Benji, however, doesn't need to be at school at the ass crack of dawn.  His day doesn't start until 9am.  

I'm thinking Andy is going to get to stay home with the little creeper this year.  I can run Josh, return, scoop Drew.  Get him settled, snap a couple of photos and get out the door.  

Nice thought, right? 

Oh... but, that's not the case.  Our school does a Welcome Back coffee for the parents.  This means that I will need to be READY to meet other people by 8am.  "Ready" as in showered, hair coiffed, and actually wearing something other than my gym clothes at 7am.  I just don't see how that will be possible.  

And that irks me.  


My entire schedule is going to have to be thrown into the garbage disposal that day for sure.  

Shouldn't the first day of school breakfast be a nutritious one?  But how can you make a healthy, nutritious breakfast and serve it warm when you not only have to leave the house by 7am but also have to be completely dressed, showered, and "ready" before then???  

If you don't know me, just know this:  I hate (as in abhor, loathe, detest, HAAATE) smelling like food.  I can't cook breakfast and serve it warm when I have to be out the door by 7am fully dressed, showered and looking presentable and NOT smelling like a pancake.  Right?  

Hmmm... leave the house by 7am to deposit one at 7:15, back by 7:30 to leave and deposit #2 by 7:45.  Snap, snap, "cheeeeeese", snap, snap, hugs, bye.  Then be at a "coffee" for 15-20 minutes to hob nob with the other snotty pretentious people (like me) who send their children to private school because we're better than everyone.  [Don't laugh, my son was told that.] I will then need to head home, pack up a lunch for the ankle biter and hope that he's been fed, changed and entertained.  Kiss, kiss.  Hand-off.  Then, I'm off again to deposit said ankle biter to his school for the day.  At this point I will head to the gym to burn off some much needed "AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!"  

Oh wait, I still haven't eaten.  I need to eat.  That's a given.  Perhaps I can eat in between sets at the gym?  

Oh, it's not even over then.  Drew gets released at 11:45 am the first day of school.  So at 11:30 am I will be back up at the school to retrieve him.  I'm sure we will do something so extra fantastical for lunch since it is the first day of school and you (should) ONLY have a first day of second grade once in your lifetime.  After such time we shall head home for probably an hour until it becomes time sensitive to retrieve the ankle biter (2:20 pm) and then back home for thirty minutes or so.  Then we will go BACK to the school to pick up the big kid at 3:10 when he is released for the day.

That day, my friends, will suck.  So why have I even started a countdown to that.  I have no freakin' clue.  It has just become abundantly clear to me that I need therapy.  

Friday, July 13, 2012

Talking Shit About Milestones

I thought about it.  There's really no other way to effectively title this entry into the book of my life.  So, yes, ladies and gentlemen, we're going to talk shit about milestones.

As a mother, you savor moments in your children's lives that mark milestones... the first time they sleep through the night... the first solid food... the first tooth in... the first word... the first steps... the list goes on and on because life is filled with so many firsts -- even when they're grown.

I had a first today.  A first of epic proportions (in my mind, anyway).  A first that was so ridiculously over-the-top of any other first that I truly believe Benji really "is" the child that holds true to the cliche that "third time's the charm."

Oh yes.

He's the third.

However, it's probably more like "third strike and you're out" now that I think about it.

I should have known that life would be different with three.  You move from man on man to zone defense.  Divide and conquer.

And, while he has learned to adapt to some situations, being two, you can't really expect him to fall into line without developing some mechanism for standing out and being his own person.

And, let us not forget whom his mother is.  She is one who generally stands out (even when she doesn't want to.) So Benji, by default, has the genetic disposition to be a little off the status-quo from the get go.  Let's be frank... he needs prayers.

He's different... that Benji.  He is always ready to leave his mark...

Whether it's his food... on the floor.

His crayola artwork... on the flatscreen.

His Matchbox cars.... across your forehead.

Yes.... That Benji.  He is always ready to leave his mark.  He is a giver.  Indeed.  He is.  We are blessed.

Today, however.  Today was a different kind of gift.  Usually the unexpected gifts are the ones to truly treasure.  Everyone expects a gift on Valentine's Day or their anniversary or their birthday -- those are times when you have to buy the obligatory purchase.  I'm not into obligatory anything.  I do, however, appreciate thoughtful sentiments out of the blue.  Moreover, some of my most favorite gifts were simply because someone saw something that made them think of me... and so they had buy it... for me... because of me.  Those, those are the gifts that I treasure.  Those are the gifts that are truly from the heart.

Benji's gift, however, was from an even deeper place.

Say it with me now... I am blessed.

I had spent the morning in the playroom floor.  I had drunk a considerable amount of water, milk, tea and thus, had to "go."  We had Buzz and Woody on the tube.  We had cars everywhere.  We had snacks.  We had drinks.  He should have been set for the thirty-second pit stop I required to make a visit to the loo.

SHOULD HAVE been set.


I did my business.  I walked out and sat in the chair as Moose (the Rot) was wanting to be scratched.  That's when I hear the pitter patter of little bare feet flopping on the hardwoods running from the playroom to my location.  It's truly an adorable sound.  I genuinely love to hear him run along the floor.

"Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy."

I can see his outstretched clenched hand.  He has something in his hand he wants to give to me.  I'm fairly certain that it's the Lego car he kept taking apart for me to fix.  So, while still looking down at Moose and scratching him with my left hand, I extend my right for the Lego car.

Benji promptly deposited his gift into my hand.

It wasn't a Lego car.

Oh, it was not.

It was probably the furthest thing FROM a Lego car I could have ever even imagined.


In my hand.

Benji deposited....

wait for it...

...a piece of shit.

You see, we are potty training.  He knows poop is not supposed to be in his diaper.  So he was apparently cleaning it out....

By giving it ... TO... ME!

I looked at it.

I didn't know what it was.

Then I looked at him.

He looked at me.  I think he was proud.  How delusional.

I looked at my hand.  Then, I'm pretty sure I said, "What the hell???" (quite loudly)  I looked down at the piece of crap and screamed, "No... NO NO NO NO NO NO NO POOP GOES IN THE TOILET.... NOT MOMMY'S HAND.  POOP IN THE TOILET."

I bolted up and made my way to the throne to remove the fecal matter from my hand.  


 (nice sound effects, huh?  I have a high-quality blog.  Be thankful it's not scratch-n-sniff.)

I looked at Benji.  I laughed... I sat there shaking my head trying to garner any kind of comprehension as to what had just transpired without feeling like "WHAT THE HELL"...

And..... then I went straight for the bleach.  Truthfully, there isn't much that grosses me out.  But, for some reason, at that moment, I felt the need to bleach my hand.  

We then executed a full diaper change in proper form.  

So, there ya go.  I'm talkin' shit on my blog.  Laugh among yourselves.

Never a dull moment.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

It's JULY!

It's July 1.  This means that 2012 is half over.  Oh wait!  Does that make me a pessimist?  Should I have said, "We have half a year left in which to make memories"? Meh... It means that the year is half over.  You  never realize how fast time flies until you look at major landmarks like that.

A lot has happened in the last six months.
A lot has happened in the last six months that I'd like to forget.
A lot has happened in the last six months that I'd like to happen every single day.

But, it is what it is and that's where it is.

July 1.

Today my son, Josh, leaves for three weeks in Iowa.  I enter a funk of sorts because while I do tend to communicate with him when he's there -- it's never on the level that I enjoy.  He is a texter.  While I am, I appreciate and value the interpersonal communication of a verbal conversation so that I can hear sighs, pauses, laughs, smiles rather than see this...


... typed out on a screen.  But, again, it is what it is.... which is why the funk starts.  I'm nearly 40...he's 13.  C'est la vie, right?

The calendar has some fun scheduled for this month.  Hopefully things will pan out.

This month my goals will be to get back on track with most of the "plans" I have that went on hold about two months ago.

Wish me luck.