Maybe Charmin Really IS Better

I have GOT to stop screwing up my kids. Number three, the oak that she is, would easily get a prescription for something STRONG if I ran her stress level by any medical professional. I'm not talking Prozac or Zoloft. I'm talking the real stuff. For psychosis. It is not right.

Last night's crisis was, let me see if I can do it justice, it was the very real possibility that the tigers would escape from the zoo and swim the very large river and run the many miles to our house and break down the doors and eat us. There was no consoling her. She prayed REALLY HARD that the tigers would stay in the zoo. Repeatedly, we're talking lots of prayers


Tonight's crisis centers around a slight rawness in her private area. A chafing if you will. She made me aware of it last night and requested that I investigate. Nothing too concerning. I inquired as to whether her "area" had, for any reason, been left damp for a period of time. She acknowledged that she had recently taken to peeing JUST A LITTLE BIT in her pants before she makes it to the commode. I advised her that she might want to consider NOT DOING THAT ANYMORE and perhaps, while she's at it, she could stop doing her potty spinning. Beck, you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about. I bet you laughed just reading potty spinning.

Potty spinning is CUH-RAAAZZZYYY time, nuts, cuckoo for cocoa puffs. She has to go potty, but instead of just dropping her drawers and letting it flow she chooses to stand outside the bathroom door and spin. Really fast. And she sort of flaps her arms and rolls her head around. It's like she's having a seizure while standing. And spinning. About every fourth rotation she lets out a squeal/laugh thing that sounds like, again, she's crazy. Then she starts chanting The pee is going back up the pee is going back up. Of course, we did secretly video tape it, cause, come on, it IS funny. Funny in a very concerned parent, hope my kid isn't ACTUALLY crazy, sort of way.

So, I encouraged her to stop doing THAT and to make sure she's wiping really well and getting all the way dried off down there. She's not feeling that confident in her wiping abilities and has requested that I take over that role in her life for the time being. Awesome. That means that I'm officially in charge of wiping everyone in this home who does not yet possess pubic hair. And myself, I do wipe myself and I do possess pubes. I'm tempted to admit that I possess more pubic hair than I should and I have earned the loving nickname of "free bush", but that would probably be WAY more info than anyone wants.

Tonight we are so tired and short fused that Daddy rushed her getting ready for bed routine, not letting her find me to do the wipey-wipey. This was a terrible mistake. She was, for real, hyperventilating, sobbing Mom, I can feel a little pee still, its got a little spot of wet, mom, and I know I'm gonna get a rash again and I hate having a rash it really hurts and if Dad let you come wipe me I wouldn't get a rash, please can we change my WHOLE OUTFIT and WIPE AGAIN so I won't get a rash MOM PLEEEAASSEE. Big tears. So sad. Being the patient, loving mother that I am I told her to go to sleep or you're going to wake up your baby sister. You won't get a rash, I'm sure it's fine, if you do I'll just put rash medicine on it.

I wonder what fears tomorrow holds for little oak tree.

BUSTED!

For the sake of my marital passion I would like to clear a few things up.

a) Chris is not a horndog out looking for "hot chicks". He very clearly remembers the argument more like this

Our friend doesn't need to be married to be happy. He can still date and have some nice companionship and enjoy friendships with women who are not insane alcoholics. He would be happier than he is now.

I remember very differently. The version I blogged was cleaned up for those among us who might be offended by my real version. With my wife/woman/hormonal/crazy ears I heard

WooHoo! Single life!! What could be better than a different chick every weekend and no one telling me what to do or locking me in this hell hole with five screaming kids who sing everything as if we are in a musical. A really bad really loud musical with a boring plot and the same chick in my bed every night. I crave variety and I hate musicals. I love asian women. I'm so jealous. I yearn to join our friend in the exciting world of dating lots of chicks.


I assumed that my lady blog friends know the difference between what a man says and what a woman hears. He's concerned that you will misunderstand and he'll never show his face in church again because he'll feel the angry woman eyes all around him, showing their disapproval. I'm sorry if I put him in a bad light. He is a lovely man and a wonderful husband.


b) I do not believe that if Chris stops working from our bedroom/office we will swerve tragically on to a road of adultery and intense psychiatric care. I'm simply conveying how much I enjoy having him around and it rocks for me to have such a close connection with him. That's it, babe. Not thinking you're going to run off with some lady with only 3 children, cause it would be so much quieter. Pretty sure you like the ones you've got. Pretty sure you like messing around with the woman who currently takes care of your needs in your current office. Just sharing my stress with my peeps. No harm intended. And, yes, our whole relationship is blog material. That's how I roll. If you don't like it, don't read it. Same way you don't stay in the room when I'm on the phone with my sisters. You're not going to like what you hear, so don't listen.

You rock mr. codependent hotty hot perfect body super model husband! For reals, he does.

MoMo Drama

Mo: Mom, are there really bad guys?

Me: (after carefully weighing the options, knowing that I don't want her to think that everyone is good and have her get kidnapped because of it) Sure, honey, there are some bad guys.

Mo: (already crying about there being bad guys. It took 1.5 seconds.) THERE ARE? WHY? WHY DID JESUS MAKE BAD GUYS? WHAT IF THEY KILL US?

Me: Listen, the bad guys are all in jail. Uncle Dewey catches them and puts them in jail so that we won't get hurt.

Mo: Are they ALL in jail.

Me: Weeeelllll, not ALL of them, but the other ones are far away. In the city. Just don't talk to people you don't unless one of us is with you. I have no idea what to say to you right now. I'm a failure as your mother and somehow I've made you terrified and paranoid, please, please, tell me how to fix it so that you will stop crying and I will stop saying the wrong things that makes you cry more. Daddy drinks because you cry.

Just kidding, daddy doesn't drink, but he did ask me to get that knife the other day, remember that? See, daddy is the bad guy here, not mommy.

Baby Dentures?

I was starting to worry (fake your surprise, ok) that VeeVee was never going to get more than four teeth. She's been a bear lately, just nasty grouchy, and we kept looking for those next teeth coming in to give her an excuse. Today, during a screaming fit on daddy's lap, he noticed that she DOES have two more teeth, but they're molars.

No canines, or whatever those second ones are called, either, just molars. I hope she's going to get those other ones, too, cause dentures are, oh, EXPENSIVE, I bet baby dentures are, oh, REALLY EXPENSIVE.

Here's a picture of the happy child being held down and tortured to get a digital record of her big accomplishment.
Here's a picture of her crazy, I mean sensitive sister crying because she thought we were being mean to the baby. The baby is really just crying now because daddy dressed her in that outfit.

What you can't see is daddy's face as they're are both full on scream crying in his ears. At this moment he is asking me to get a knife and kill him now, he can't take one more minute, this is the worst moment of his life. He said all those words. In front of the sensi child. Guess how MoMo took that? Oh, real well. She was on my lap sobbing forever asking why daddy wants mommy to kill him with a knife.

We really need to be more careful around that one. Bologna foot is all heart.

Hypochondria

I called the ask-a-nurse thingy and "linda" thought that I should just watch it for a few days. She said if the side pain continues for three days I should go to the doctor. Or if my fever goes over 100.5, right now it's just 99.5. So, I believe I might live. The only thing she seemed concerned about was my kidneys and/or possible UTI. I tried to convince her that I know when I have a UTI and it's NOT that. Kidneys, though, could be it, she talked about kidney stones. That doesn't sound fun.

She said they often see these symptoms in people who THINK they're getting Krispy Kreme, but do not in fact RECEIVE any Krispy Kreme.

Hopefully it's just constipation, but I haven't even GONE on a vacation, so that would be unusual.

Crazy Little Thing Called...Codependency

For the first time in several years, Chris may have an offer worth considering going to work for someone other than himself. This could mean not working from his office/bedroom upstairs. It could mean actually leaving my side for several hours a day. Several days a week, probably all in a row.

I'm pretty sure I'm not having a for real heart attack. Probably just a panic attack. We're what you might call dysfunctional. We both load all five kids in the van to take one of them to school. All of us, together, every day. Not for any reason, just because we are used to being together every minute of everyday.

If he were to get a normal type job...well I don't really want to think about it. Who would go grocery shopping with me? I can't bag them and watch Superturd at the same time. Who would come downstairs and watch them so I can take my occasional shower and reapply my magic deodorant? Sure, I like to bring the raunch, but I can only take it so far. Would I be expected to keep the children happy AND make dinner? What about nooners, how do you have a nooner with a real live job? I wouldn't be able to have the cable guy come, or who knows what might happen. I have needs. Who would make me lunch?

Would this necessitate things like "meetings" and "alarm clocks"? He doesn't do alarm clocks. When we met he didn't even have his plugged in. Start time is optional in his world. He's not into "bosses" and "answering to someone else". Would we need to have a realistic bedtime? What about all the TV we need to watch at night? How would that fit in?

What if I need to run an errand or go to book club or check the post office box? With three kids in car seats? Are you kidding me? I might even have to talk to OTHER PEOPLE. I don't need mail or books THAT bad.

They need to change the laws about leaving kids in the car. We always waited in the car for my mom. She did the whole big grocery shopping trip and never carted us in with her. We loved it. We played 'kidnapper' and hid under the seats from strangers. Come on, I would LOCK the car. Maybe even turn on the alarm. They'd be WAY safer than we were. Besides, we have so many kids, who's going to try to take all of them?

AND my husband has this need for what he refers to as "an audience". Currently I am that audience. I don't like someone else being the audience. I KNOW ITS CRAZY. He's what we call a "yellow"(color code personality book. LOVE IT.) We don't call him yellow to his face or he punches us in the face (color code personality book. HE DOESN'T LOVE IT.) As a yellow, he needs someone to listen to him all the time, and laugh at the appropriate times and show outrage at the appropriate times. If he goes to an outside job he'll get a new audience. I don't like that. He needs to take me with him, to be his audience. I don't foresee him wanting to do that. Then again, he didn't think he'd like working from home and now we love with our codependency, so maybe he'll see the benefit of putting the three little kids in daycare and having me follow him around an office all day. I think this could work.

Tagged

A- Attached or Single: Depends on the day, usually pretty detached, i mean attached

B- Best Friends: I have no friends

C- Cake or Pie: Mmmm, cake...or pie, but more cake

D- Day of choice: Monday of a three day weekend

E- Essential Item: mascara

F- Favorite Color: grey

G- Gummi Bears or Worms: bears if I must have any

H- Hometown: Hickboro

I - Indulgence(s): chocolate ice cream

J- January or July: July, it finally stops raining

K- Kids: 5

L- Life is Incomplete Without: books

M- Marriage Date: somewhere around Valentine's day, 13th?

N- Number of Siblings: 4

O- Oranges or Apples: Oranges

P- Phobias or Fears: spiders, heights, bridges, deep water, going off of a bridge into deep water and trying to get my children out of their carseats and get the doors open and get to the surface holding onto all of them before before we drown, cramped spaces, suffocating, infidelity, losing a child, rats (not the pet variety, the uninvited in my house variety), public speaking, being the boss, not doing a good job raising my children, drugs, cancer, my kids using drugs or getting cancer, being wrong, beating my children till I can't stop, really real tornadoes, dinner parties, speaking to anyone not directly related to me, old age, war breaking out on US soil and us living in fear and turmoil .

Q- Quotes: There is nothing to fear but fear itself. These are the words i live by :)

R- Reason To Smile: my husband is funny

S- Season: fall

T- Tag Three: Becky, Leanna, Chris

U- Unknown Fact About Me: There are no unknown, so how about little known. Except, my two readers even know the little known, so this is really dumb. Let me see...I honestly have nothing. I've never smoked. I have my tubes tied.

V- Vegetarian or Meat Eater: Meat is murder, tasty tasty murder

W- Worst Habit: pooping my pants in public

X- X-Rays or Ultrasounds: I don't understand this

Y- Your Favorite Food: all of it, but seafood. maybe Mexican best.

Z- Zodiac: Bull