My Poor Little Guys

This afternoon I took the twinkies (and John) to see Cars 2. I might have told them it did not come out until today in an effort to avoid the throngs of germ infested children opening week.

I took a little nappy poo. Totally worth the $7. Totally.

When I woke up I had a moment of realization with Jackson.

Spoiler Alert!! The following content may contain spoilers about the film Cars 2. If you want to maintain the element of surprise you should stop reading now. Also, if you can’t figure out or actually care how Cars 2 ends you might want to rethink your blog subscription.

So, I woke up, wiped the drool from the corners of my mouth and checked to make sure all my boys were still alive. I think I missed about 45 minutes. We were at the final scary moments with Tow Mater hanging in a clock tower, desperate to find a way to save Lightening McQueen. (Or, as he’s known around here Lightening The Queen.)

I looked at Reese and he was nervously shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. I peeked at Jackson and he was panicked.

PANICKED.

He reached out and grabbed my hand.

It occurred to me that he was genuinely worried about Mater and Lightening The Queen. Worried that Mater might actually get crushed in the clock tower and Lightening might explode. Scared. They’re real to him.

He hasn’t seen every animated film made in the last 15 years. Twice.

He doesn’t know that the main characters are always ok. He doesn’t know that even though Cars 2 is only an average movie, there will be a Cars 3. It’s already written and budgeted.

I could see the concern on his little face. Feel him clutching my hand tighter as the pace picked up and the danger got closer. He loves Lightening The Queen. He loves Mater. He honestly did not know if they were going to survive.

He didn’t know and he was scared.

Poor little guy.

It reminded me of John when he was about this age. At dinner one evening we asked he and Taryn what they wanted to be when they grew up. Taryn said she wanted to be either a teacher or a singer. John said he wanted to be a Jedi Knight. Dallas said, “no, really what do you want to be?”

John replied, “I want to be a Jedi Knight.”

“Come on John, you can’t be a Jedi Knight. Star Wars isn’t real.”

John burst into tears. He was inconsolable. He really wanted to be a Jedi Knight, just like Luke Skywalker.

He did not know that Star Wars wasn’t real.

Poor little guy.

Things I Love

Since you all put up with my grumpy mcshlumpypants yesterday, I figured I should do something a bit more cheerful today. Don’t expect too much, mushy isn’t really my thing.

Also, don’t expect me to go on and on about the children, the husband, or the stupid dog. Obviously I love them. If I didn’t I would have blown this joint a long time ago.

Jimmy Buffett – I love Jimmy Buffett. His music makes me happy, especially now that I live in the tundra. It makes me feel warm even when I haven’t seen the sun in days. I knew I was in love with Dallas when I found out he was an even bigger fan than me. My all time favorite Buffet song is One Particular Harbor Dal’s is Cowboy In The Jungle. However, that song Knee Deep by the Zac Brown Band with Jimmy Buffett brings joy to my soul. I mean that, seriously.

Reese’s fashion  – You don’t hear much about Reese on this blog. He’s a sweet little kid who is often overshadowed by his wild twin. (He just brought me my water bottle, for no reason at all.) He’s also the first kid to put on a costume, hat, or big shoes. He spends half of his life in mine or Dallas’ shoes. It’s cute. Today I told him to put on a pair of socks and shoes to go to the dog park. While we are walking I took this shot of the ones he chose.

I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!

Kid language – Reese and Jackson refer to Cars as “Lightening The Queen.” They also refer to their Daddy as “Dawas.” Taryn told me the other day that she likes to eat “cosmotolitan” ice cream. They’re so stupid, I love it.

Wine – Obviously.

The Olympics – I’m not really a sports fan. I could go the rest of my life without ever watching another football game and it wouldn’t bother me one bit. But, come Olympics time and I’ll sit in front of the TV all day and all night to watch everything from Gymnastics to the Modern Pentathlon. John inherited my love for the games, we bond over it every two years.

PB & J – I could eat one every day. I think I did when I was pregnant with the twinkies. It’s the perfect food. Creamy peanut butter and any kind of jam. Except grape, don’t be gross.

Now it’s your turn. What do you love so much you should marry it?

Things I Hate

Not things about you, although I’m sure if I really thought about it I’d find some.

Free Time – When you have a thousand children you never really have free time. I skipped church this morning because Dallas was helping out with the children’s program. We all know I didn’t want to get roped into that business. He and the kids left at about 10:15 and did not return until around 2. If I was smart I would have poured some wine and laid on the couch. I’m stupid. Instead, I sat on the couch for less than half an hour to watch the DVR’d season premier of Louie on FX. (If you haven’t watched it, you should.) After that I wiped down all the counters and tabletops. Cleaned the bathroom. Wiped down all the glass surfaces (including the big mirror on the stairs, that should really never get dirty) and swept and mopped the floors. Dealt with the cable guy who came to check the line. Went to the PX and the Commissary. Baked a batch of cookies, from scratch.

Yesterday Dal stayed home with the boys while I took John out for the afternoon. He made lunch for the twinkies before I left and then laid on the couch. When I came home 4 hours later, I found this:

I’m not upset about the mess. He cleaned it up. (God knows I wasn’t going to) I’m upset that he can sit on the couch all day and I can’t. Even when I really want to.

Taking my kids out in public – I took the twinkies to my friend Christin’s daughters’ birthday party today. She’s the cutest little pumpkin ever (the birthday girl, not Christin). The other children acted normal, they played in the water table and had fun. Jackson poured a cup of water on Reese’s head. He refused to eat anything other than cupcakes. Instead of saying thank you he said, “THANKS HOT DOG!” It took me 25 minutes to leave.

Stupid husband tricks – We have 2 cars, 4 bicycles, and live within walking distance of anything you could possibly need. So of course, on my way home from the birthday party my husband texted and asked me to get him cash. I only know of one ATM near our house that is not in a store. It is not drive thru, so I had to park and leave the twinkies in the car to go in and get cash. The doors were locked to the ATM vestibule. I spent the next 15 minutes cursing Dal for not going to get the cash himself. You know, since he didn’t have 2, four-year-olds with him. He does this all the time with mailing stuff or dropping crap off. It makes me completely insane.

Running – I’m still running. I still hate it. The only reason I continue is because I think my body is changing, less cottage cheese. I haven’t lost a pound. That might have something to do with the nachos I just ate. Whatever.

What do you hate today?

Johnisms For Today

Before there was a ‘Twinisms,’ there were ‘Johnisms.’ John is hysterical, sometimes he is trying to be funny. Other times, it just happens.

For your enjoyment…

I spent the day at the park on post. There were some troops having a picnic and playing loud music. I told Dallas they played Pour Some Sugar On Me.

John said, “Wait, what…oh I thought someone actually poured sugar on you. That’d be weird.”

Yes, John it would be very, very weird.

Later, I said I needed to dust because the birds were looking grungy.

These birds..

I stole the phrase, ‘judgmental birds’ from my friend Heather. That’s what I said tonight, “I need to dust the judgmental birds.”

John said, “They look kind of cocky to me.”

I love him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

WTF? Wednesday

This Wednesday I’m having to choose between two Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? moments. It’s going to be a tough call.

Our first WTF? moment is brought to us by my Jackson. Lately, when he talks back to me he ends his sentence with, “how about that?”

For example:

“Oh yeah, well, I’m not going to wear my pants. How about that?”

“Well, then I’m going to punch Reese. How about that?

Or my favorite…

“Fine, then I’m not going to love you anymore. How about that?”

Seriously, WTF? He’s four. What is he going to say when he’s 14?

Or other contender is the stupid dog. This morning while on our Wednesday run she peed…blood. She peed an incredibly large amount of blood. We were only about a 1.5 miles in when she stopped and squatted on the asphalt trail and peed. (she never does that) When I looked and saw the huge puddle of blood I almost passed out. Imagine pouring a gallon of that V8 Fusion crap on the asphalt. That’s what it looked like.

WTF dog?

And seriously, what kind of dog owner thinks for at least three weeks that the stupid dog is peeing too often and might have a UTI but does not bother to make her an appointment? I suck at life.

Thanks for not pulling that crap on the weekend dog. Bravo.

My “friend” Christin was running with me, she’s  38 weeks pregnant. She said that anyone who saw us and then saw that puddle probably thought she had given birth on the trail. Either that or I’d finally had it with her skinny, mean, pregnant self making me look like a loser for not being able to keep up and cut her. I will cut a broad. Just not while she’s pregnant.

For the win I’m going with the stupid dog. Only because she made me realize that she does not completely suck and I would be sad if something happened to her. I have emotions. How about that?

Bad Mommy

Jackson dropped the F-bomb today. I am 100% certain I did not misunderstand him. I wish I could say that he learned it from his father, but that’s only partially true. I could tell you that I try not to curse much, but that would also be only partially true.

The truth is, I think about cursing less. I censor myself in front of most people. But, I curse. A lot.

Apparently within earshot of the 4-year-olds. Excellent.

I could also tell you that other than the occasional curse word, I was an excellent mom today. But, it would not be true. I should have known it was going to be a bad day when my alarm went off at 5:30 and I turned it off and went back to sleep.

For two more hours.

The plan was to get up at 5:30 so Taryn and I could go on a long bike ride before the twinkies woke up. That way John would only have to make sure the house did not burn down, instead of doing actual childcare.

Instead I got up at 7:30, got dressed, and woke Taryn and John. The twinkies woke up before Taryn and I left, which made me feel guilty for messing up the original plan. So, I poured their cereal, laid out a blanket in the living room, and turned on Cars. I told them they were having a “BREAKFAST INDOOR PICNIC!!” They were very excited. I’m pretty sure John slept on the couch the whole time we were gone.

Whatever.

After the bike ride I took the twinkies to the indoor playground. Because they needed to burn some energy and it was cold and damp stupid Alaska summer day. On the way home Taryn and I planned to stop at the grocery store and Costco.

Reese had other ideas.

Before leaving we made a potty break. He peed all over his pants. I think he did it on purpose. I could have driven home and gotten him a clean pair of pants. I could have skipped the shopping. I did neither of those things. I soaked up as much of the pee as I could with the bathroom paper towels and drove on.

I forgot all about the pee until Reese climbed on Dallas’ lap at dinner. Woops.

At the grocery store Reese stole a piece of candy. You know those big, stupid bins of bulk candy? I hate those. Anyway, he stole a Werther’s. I didn’t realize it until we were half way to Costco. Actually, I did not realize at all, Taryn did. She’s a way better parent than I am.

I should have turned the car around and made him take the wrapper back and apologize, like any good sitcom mom. I did not. I scolded him and drove on. (A Werther’s? Yuck. At least he could have stolen a good candy.)

Then Jackson said the F-word. I scolded him. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me. Seriously, what business do I have yelling at him when I probably said the word 3 times today? (By 3 I mean 30)

Later, when the stupid dog barked to come in, Jackson said, “Oh man, you freaking dog!”

At least he said freaking. He’s learning not to copy verbatim. Maybe I’m not such a bad mommy after all…

I Don’t Like Kids

Don’t tell anyone. It’s my little secret. But I don’t, not really anyway. I try to keep it to myself because I think most people assume that since I have a herd of children I must love them. I do love MY children, but in general I don’t like children. I’d say I like my children a solid 70% of the time. Most of that is while they’re sleeping.

Admitting this probably makes me look like a bad mom. (that and all the wine bottles in the recycle bin.) But, today at church I found another mom who doesn’t like kids either.

It was the most spiritual moment I think I have ever had at church.

Both of our husbands volunteered to help out with the children’s religious exploration program this summer. At one point or another they each thought they would not be there for their assigned days and we were going to have to fill in.

Seriously, I can’t think of anything worse than working down in the children’s area.

It’s so loud.

And germy.

And filled with children.

Ick.

Dallas wanted me to volunteer with him. I told him no, I don’t like kids. I think he loves me a little less because of it, but I don’t care. One of the other women at church told me my name came up as a potential RE teacher and they all just laughed. Maybe I’m not as good at hiding my true feelings as I think I am.

I like babies. Before they can walk or talk much. When all they want to do is sleep or look up at you like you’re the sun, moon, and stars. That’s awesome. Then they start asking for things and breaking stuff and I fall out of love pretty quickly.

Older kids don’t bother me. Right about 7th grade my kids started being fun. They can handle sarcasm and give it right back. They learned well, like good Jedi Knights.

For the most part I like my friends children. I’ll babysit, just not everyday. I don’t like them that much. The cooler the friend, the more likely it is I’m going to like their children. As soon as you start irritating me, your kids will too. Just a heads up.

I also hate, and I mean really hate, talking to children on the phone. I can’t understand anything kids say over the phone. Most of the time I can’t understand what adults are saying over the phone. I hate the phone. If you call me, odds are I’m not paying attention after the first 15 minutes. Just text me, so I can answer when I feel like it. Thanks.

But don’t give your kids my cell number. I only text my own children. Texting other children would be creepy.

I know that I am guilty of making people talk to my children on the phone. It sucks. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do it again. Except to my mother. I like to put Reese or Jackson on the phone with her and let them just walk away. Jackson could talk for hours. It’s hysterical. I’ll shoot a video next time and you’ll see. No wait, I hate watching videos of kids too.

Nevermind.

I’m glad I got that off my chest. Please tell me some of you feel the same way so I don’t feel like such a jerk.

Sick Teenagers

My oldest son, John, is sick. Really sick. He sounds like he is hacking up a lung. His coughing wakes me up at night. That’s irritating. I mean really, I need my beauty sleep.

The only upside is that I know he is actually still in his room and hasn’t snuck out in the middle of the night. Not that I would ever expect a teenager to do something like that, I know I never would have when I was his age. (I was a couple of years older when I started sneaking out.)

He is so sick that he went fishing Monday night. The guys here (by guys I mean the guys my husband knows) did something called a suicide run. They left after work and drove a few hours to the Russian River. They fished until they caught their limit and then drove home. Twice as much time in the car as in the river.

I think I can speak for most women when I say that is absolutely crazy behavior.

(But, I don’t mind the stock of red salmon in my freezer.)

He is so sick that he then slept all day Tuesday. When he woke up he ate.

Then he ate some more.

Then he did some texting.

Ate some more.

More texting.

More eating.

Then he went to soccer and played the entire game.

He was so sick that Wednesday he spent several hours playing soccer in the afternoon. Then he went to practice. In the rain. It was 50 degrees and raining.

He said practice was excellent, but his legs were tired.

Today he actually stayed home all day. You know, because his legs were tired, not because he was coughing every 20 seconds and blowing his nose. (Also, conveniently putting the used tissues back in the tissue box. Thanks for that.)

That child is so sick that he ate four helpings of shepard’s pie. And a popsicle. And two glasses of milk. Then he did his chores.

In fact he is so sick that he waited until 8:30 PM to ask, “Can I go play soccer if I’m home by 10?”

Actually, it sounded more like, “COUGH Can I go COUGH go play soccer COUGH COUGH if I’m home COUGH COUGH COUGH by 10?”

Because I’m a good mom I said, “No, you’re sick. You need to rest.”

He looked at me like I was the biggest loser on the planet and said, “OK. FINE!”

Lovely.

Maybe tomorrow the doctor will admit him….

 

Rockin’ The Baby Bump

Not anymore. Not now. Don’t be crazy. I’m closed for business.

However, there is a new photo link-up from Shell at Things I Can’t Say for pregnancy photos. Why not? It can’t be worse than showing you my not-so-fabulous high school days right?

I don’t have digital photos of my first pregnancy with the twins. Because I am really old. I’m also really lazy so I’m not going to scan them. You’ll have to survive with just pics of  the twinkies in the oven.

Brace yourself, I was scary.

This first one is not too bad, I was only about 15 weeks in. Still so small that we went backpacking with the twins. The dog had to pull me up the hills.

I cropped it so you would not have to witness the cankles. You’re welcome.

I think the next one was taken in July which would have made me about 7 months along. Or something, I don’t know… I blocked it out.

I don’t know why I was smiling. Probably because I knew that in just a couple of months I could start drinking again.

Now for the scariest of all. This is not photo shopped. I’m 34 weeks here, the twinkies were born 2 weeks later.

When you grow out of your maternity bathing suit it’s time to stop swimming. Just an FYI.

Four babies, two giant stomachs.

Worth every stretch mark.

Aggressive Beavers

A few Saturday’s ago I posted this funny sign I saw at the dog park.

At the time I thought it was hilarious. I still do. I love funny people.

This morning there was an article in the Anchorage Daily News about the beavers. Apparently, they have attacked a few dogs. I’m pretty juvenile, so I had to go down to the dog park to see the new signs that have been posted. They look slightly more official than the last one, but just as funny.

Aggressive Beavers? I am much too immature to handle this. Since I assume all of you are just as childish as me, I’d like to share some of my favorite parts of the article.

• “Isn’t there some way we can trap some of these beavers and send them all to a nice lake”
•  “she literally punched the beaver”
• “Self-taught Anchorage beaver expert”
• “Beavers are great fun to watch”
• “I hate to stereotype but the University Lake beavers have pretty much turned me off to all beavers.”

No need to read the article that I’ve linked to, but the comments are amusing. Again, funny people are awesome.

This concludes the 5th grade boy portion of my blog.