You talk, you fight, you win, you lose!

I have been utterly disenchanted with my children today.

I feel like the shit-hole of a mom too. Especially when the husband points out that me saying that they are really

driving me to drink/get a second job

bugging me is a (not) really great thing to say in front of said children.

He and I have not spoken in the past hour and a half.

We rarely fight. We really don't fight. We agree to disagree.

I say "We are not rewarding bad behavior with treats and Scooby-Doo-Watching" and he will turn around and say it's okay after I say no. This is a source of anger with me. I don't appreciate trying to keep control of the kids. Disciplining per se. Especially when someone is undermining everything you say.

I don't really know how to explain things, but they are not in a good place. My kids are spoiled. Rottenly spoiled, and I'm not quite sure how to try and tread backwards in trying to reverse the damage already done.
We go out for dinner tonight, and the kids think that if they behave and eat their dinner that this automatically means that they are in deservance of a treat or a toy.

Let me say, without screaming, "Are you kidding me?"
(And believe me when I say they did not behave)

When did doing what is expected of you turn into a demand for something in return?

I do not know how it happened. I'm am most certain it is my fault. I will take blame. But I MUST MUST MUST find some way of reversing this behavior.

Heaven help us all as the weekend has just begun.

It didn't help that there was a father, sans mother, who was out with FOUR children, including an infant in a carseat, and the older kids (all under the age of eight) were so well-behaved it made me want to lose my cheeseburger.

All the while my almost seven-year old was under the table picking up other peoples' trash. Yes, we do not have enough of our own trash, we need to bring more home.

Now it's been two hours since the husband and I have said anything to each other...and the last words were at high decibals (from me) and angry.

I think it's time for bed.

Pot pie? Who's got a pot pie?

I was supposed to help the husband with the moving of lawn furniture, but he has disappeared with the dog.

I had to say that I made and devoured this last night, and I have to say Thank you to Mrs. Beanpaste and her chickenpotpie. You should say that in one word.

The husband and I even split it up equally for lunch leftovers. mmmmmm

Not normally would you see the word leftover and the word husband in the same sentence, so it was truly blogworthy to note this.

Well, that's about it folks. The children are plumb tuckered out and borderline nasty, so I must go stop a Scooby-Doo fest and put them to bed before the Season Finale of Lost makes a grand premiere on my television.

Remembering the bricks

The dear husband is outside, in the pouring rain, removing the old bricks from our old garden-turned-playground. It's a little sad to see the morphing of what once was to what will be. Sad to see the hours of back-breaking, brick placing labor and the bricks that broke the leaf springs on the truck, get pried out of their resting place for the last nine years. Only to be replaced with grass.

In other news, the pox are all scabbed over and B is ready to go back to school. Hooray! There are only 4 days left of school for both girls. Yikes! That means, in three short months, S will be going into 2nd grade and B will be in year two of "preschool". That means, that in three weeks, S will be SEVEN and and two months later, B will be FOUR. How did this happen? How did my babies get to be so old? How did they get to be so sassy and argumentative? How can they be so sweet and yet so mean at the same time? Sad. I find myself pausing at their beds when I check on them before I hit the sack, and just look at their sweet little faces while they sleep. Their long eyelashes, their sweet, soft cheeks, their pouty lips, so sweet and angelic. It's a good vision to go to sleep on. In the mornings I smooch them up until they have to say "Moooom! Stop!"

The husband and I snatched some leftover sod from across the street last night. In the dark of the night, with the wheelbarrow in tow, we barreled across the street and got ourselves six rolls of sod. Bwaahaaahaaa.

Well, the husband has come back inside so I'm going to warm up the wafflemaker again and bust him out some breakfast.

I see nothing wrong with it

My glorious, wacked-out like myself, neighbor has been watching B for the past two days in hopes that my kid passes on the pox to her kids.

I love that I'm not the only one who is not counting on vaccines to determine if my kid gets into school with a government-issued fully vaccinated form.

It's been a hectic week.

I am officially the Marketing (director) (my little addition to the title) person at work. I also have no idea what to do, where to start, what buttons to push.

Delightful.

I am really looking forward to a long, memorial-day, weekend.

It will be involving lots of Gin, Wine and Beer. Maybe just a small amount of food too.

We've got Spots

My dearest three-year old, Baby-Cat-B, has the chicken pox.

What started out with two, tiny blistery bumps on her neck, have now appeared on every part of her little bhudda-bellied body.

She is perfectly fine, otherwise. She currently has a bathing suit on, and is ready for some pool action because of our hotter than normal temperatures.

S is paranoid that she shouldn't get too close to her as she will get them too. Sorry to break it to you child, but you have already been exposed before we knew this was happening, so we'll see what happens. S was exposed when she was younger and never actually "got" them. The husband has never had them either so she may be his little clone.

I'll have to say that I'm one of those wacky vaccine-freaked moms that doesn't get all the recommended vaccinations for her children. So flog me now.
But, hell, I'm not worried. I've had them. And I may even have a younger sister who can watch little B for a few days this week if the need arises.

I don't want you in the tree

Oh, the three year old that says "Mom, I want you to put me up in that big tree"...how can one deny the sweet, sticky three year old, with a ring-pop on her finger, who is very graceful and would most certainly not fall out of the tree?

Just the ring pop on her finger makes me not want to put her in the tree.

In my last rambling, I was (again) complaining about my adventures in babysitting, ahem, the supervising of ones employees. Isn't it amazing what the difference a few days can make?

Can't really speak of it in-depth quite yet as everything is not completely set in stone....but let's just say that if those crazed employees think that *I* am a bitch....well, they are about to be wickedly shocked, unbeknownst to them.


BWWWWAAAAHHHHAAAAHAAAAAAA

ahem. I will not gloat. I will not laugh. I will not sneer. I will not be ultra-excited for my new, enclosed cubicle.

Not yet.

Please, someone make them move

I have been at the computer for, honestly, four minutes. The only thing I have heard in the past four minutes is the never-ending wail of someone crying. The girls are outside playing kickball with their dad (god only knows what they are really doing) and first S, comes in the house howling, goes outside still crying...it stops momentarily, and then B is crying.

Seriously, I can only imagine the neighbors, slamming their windows that face our backyard, in pure agony of another night with the M family playing outside with all that sisterly love. The really really wonderful thing is that our closest neighbor also happens to be a case worker for the DCFS (Division of Child and Family Services), so I have to watch my screaming mouth for fear of retribution.

Work is annoying. Once I deal with one annoying employee, then there is another, and then another and I get so excited to deal with all the hormones and insecurity and complaints and UGH. Make it stop. If I am really making your life so tough, then find another damn job! Just because I expect you to come to work (if you can do that) and actually WORK, I know, it IS terribly bitchy of me to even think that you should do that whilst clocked in and getting paid.

Sigh.

I try so hard not to come home and hit the bottle during the week, and then have to deal with complete morons all day when I could be at home babysitting my own children for god's sake. They at least give me some love throughout the day after they say they hate me for making them sit and read and do their homework. At work you just get hated and backstabbed and complained about behind your back. For being so mean

I LOVE those employees.

Me! Me! Pick me!

Who can guess who is sick in *my* house again?

I don't want everyone rushing to post a guess now.

That would make me all warm inside to think that someone CARES.

The fish is still frozen

Now what the hell am I supposed to make for dinner?