Limping Towards The Finish Line

The last two weeks of school are the same for most parents.  We are ALL DONE. Spent from a year of making lunches, getting kids dressed, putting them on the bus, getting them off the bus, homework, book reports, science projects, band concerts and class plays.  We are over the novelty of our children’s first day of (fill in the blank) grade.  Their first day at a new school or their first school dance.

 

During the last two weeks, everyone goes into survival mode.  You can tell who the parents are by the dead, blank stare they possess – the walking dead.  Plodding through the last few weeks in an utter daze.  If you muster up the energy to say “hi”, you’ll likely hear them whisper back -“I don’t give  a sh#&%t.”  Don’t take offense.  It’s just the end of the year battle cry all us parents mutter.

 

We are like long distance runners, after months of training, the race is coming to an end.  We can see the finish line and it looks beautiful!   No more routines, no more packed lunches, no more tears over homework or school reports.  Off in the distance is the dream of long, summer nights by the campfire, mom with a chilled glass of wine in hand, kids off playing flashlight tag, days at the beach, sand in the car, and kids exhausted and happy at the end of the day.

 

Personally, I think I checked out around Memorial day.  At that point, I was all done with school and everything associated with it.  My lunches, once packed with mostly healthy foods had dwindled down to a handful of doritos, two oreos and a leftover donut.  The same goes for our hygiene routine.  Gone where the days of brushed hair and brushed teeth.  We were lucky to get out of the house with clothes on. I got to a point where I didn’t even remember the last time I bathed my kids. I think it was weekly, but I could be wrong.

 

The first weekend in June, my son came down with what we thought was appendicitis.  Turned out to be an inflamed colon due to a virus, but it got us a night in the hospital,  He was home three days, with all his original parts, then on his last day of preschool, he came home early with a fever, which  turned into the stomach bug.  My daughter then got the bug that night, but she recovered quick.  The boy did not and was back in the hospital the following weekend for dehydration.  If we had gone in one more time, we would have won a free bed pan.

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In between hospital stays, my daughter had not one, but two class posters due.  The first one, about states, was due two days after we got home from our first hospital stay.  We squeaked that out and got it in a day early.  The second poster, about grey squirrels, was due the following week and by then I was seriously thinking the teacher had a death wish.  I mutter the end of the year battle cry under my breath and decided to just do the flipping project myself. My daughter was involved since she did most of the research before hand and did all the pasting, but rather than let her painstakingly type up three paragraphs with one finger, I typed the report and printed of the pictures.  I’m happy to say we got an A+  on that sucka!

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Oh and did I mention the day we got home from the hospital trip #2, my daughter got the stomach bug AGAIN.  Yeah, that was fun.

 

The last week of school, Death Wish Teacher decided to assign homework – make homemade play dough for a volcano project the kids were doing.  Now you’re thinking, that doesn’t sound so bad – a little flour, a little salt, it will be fun.  It’s stuff you have in the house so how hard could it be.  Easy Peasy.  Ah no – because she wanted us to make 7 POUNDS of play dough.  No lie!  6 CUPS OF FLOUR.  2 CUPS OF SALT.  And a bunch of other things in quantities only bargain price clubs carry.  The thing weigh slightly more than a small elephant.  In fact, I drove my daughter to school the next day because I feared she would dislocate her shoulder if she carried it in her backpack.

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So here we are.  The night before the last day of school.  It is a half day so no need to worry about packing a lunch.  I did bathe my children.  Well, actually I let them soak in the tub while I wrote this, but that counts, right?   I can see the finish line within my reach.  In less than 24 hours, victory will be mine.  And as I slowly limp across the finish line, battered and bruised using every last ounce of energy in my bones – I will raise my hands in triumph and yell for the world to hear – “I DON’T GIVE A S@%#$T!  Yee haw!

 

See you on the other side

Sue

 

Happy Father’s Day

After my wildly popular Mother’s Day video (actually I think only 6 people saw it), I knew I have to give all the dads out there equal treatment so I searched around and found this song.  I had grandiose ideas for this video, but alas, like most ideas in my head, the mental image and the actual product don’t always come out to be equal. This was mainly due to many unforeseen incidents.  The rest was due to lack of talent and staffing issues. :)

First, it rained – buckets – for days – so I couldn’t get outside.  Then the stomach bug hit our house.  Actually, it crushed the boy, who ended up in the hospital – twice.  This lead to my husband canceling his business trip two weeks in a row, leaving him wandering the house, paying way too much attention to what I was doing. :)  I thought my dreams were dead in the water until a little stroke of luck the day before Daddy Day.  My husband took the boy on an errand and I had a brief half an hour of free time to myself.  The following is what I accomplished in that brief moment of freedom.

So I hope you enjoy this little montage.  Or at the very least wonder if I was dropped on my head as a child.

Either way, Happy Father’s Day!

Sue

Trip To The Dentist

Let me just start off by saying this, this post has nothing to do with dealing with children and difficult situations in the dentist’s office. If that was what you were looking for, I’m sorry to say that you will be sadly disappointed. This is a post about my situation at the dentist’s office this morning.

When I was in grad school I had a professor who would run to work, not shower (that we could tell) and just slip in to other clothes before teaching classes or holding office hours. I will call him “Bobby D”. To compound matters, the graduate fellows had offices directly across the math hallway from the professors. The math hallway was narrow, as it was a not a main corridor, so the distance between offices was minimal. The office I shared with another graduate fellow was directly across the hall from Bobby D’s. My desk was set up so that I could not see in to his office, yet I always knew when he was in and when he had chosen to run in to work. My closest friend in grad school was Irish Twin. Despite having an office on the diagonal from Bobby D’s, Irish Twin often wandered over to my office with her nose wrinkled, shortly after Bobby D had arrived at school.

Well, today I pulled a “Bobby D.” Mind you, I did NOT go to work post run. I did however, put in a quick four miles (on a ridiculously humid day), hop in my car, change my shirt, throw on some deodorant, and head to the dentist. What the heck, I thought. I was only getting my night mouth guard. How long would it take?

Forty minutes. Forty minutes to adjust and readjust that mother, while the only two things running through my mind were Do I stink? I must. How can I not? and I’m going to be Tina Fay in Date Night pulling my night guard out of my mouth at the last minute offering to rally. “Oh… oh, no… We can still fool around.” Will Big Man fulfill the Steve Carell role and let me off the hook with “I will light up your life… next time” or are we just moving in to a new, sadly awkward stage of marriage? Forty minutes in the dentist chair. I’m not even one of those people who hates going to the dentist. I love it. I’ve almost fallen asleep in the dentist’s chair once or twice. This morning, if I wasn’t sweaty from my run, I was sweaty from the awkwardness of sitting there, worrying.

Did I mention yet that my dentist is a runner? My dentist is a runner who has often noticed when I have show up for an appointment in full on running gear and has asked if I have just come from a run. My response has always been “No, no. I’m heading out for a run after this. I would never run before coming here. Gross.” I think I even told him about Bobby D once. Of course, I did. Why wouldn’t I? I would never pull that kind of thing. Oh wait, but I did.

I’d love to blame it on motherhood and not having enough time to squeeze everything in, but really, who am I kidding? My kids are both in school all day. If I work, it’s as a substitute teacher and it’s not every day or even every week. I’ve got plenty of time to myself. Actually, as my kids get older they give me fewer and fewer excuses to use. I really only have myself to blame for the fact that there are more people out there who would never recognize me with straight, dry hair, make-up and normal clothes than without. It’s just that I am that girl who doesn’t give a crap. Unless, of course, I’m going to the dentist office…

Jen

Stuff That is Absolutely Scaring the Crap Out of Me Today (ok, not really, but I needed a title)

Hey. It’s Jen. I’m still alive, but Sue has been holding down the fort like a rock star, hasn’t she? These are just a few of the random scary thoughts running through my head this morning:

It’s May 30 and it was 55 degrees outside at the bus stop this morning. What the heck?

My kids have exactly sixteen and a half days of school left before summer vacation (including today). Then they’ll be home with me all summer. And it was 55 degrees outside this morning, on May 30. I’m a pool whore. If you have a pool and invite me and the kids over to hang out, the answer is always “yes”. (Unless we already have other pool visiting plans.) What does a girl like me do when the weather sucks all summer long? I know we had a mild, rainy summer a couple of years ago and I survived, but I don’t remember how. I think I’ve blocked it from my memory.

Big Man and I just ordered a new dishwasher and refrigerator (because our appliances always need replacing in twos) and I haven’t found a teaching job for next year yet.

My slightly-more-expensive-than-kitchen-appliances car will need to be replaced next. I don’t think sub pay supports new car purchases.

Ladybug started wearing deodorant this year. Things can only go downhill from here.

There’s no tequila in my house. There may or may not have been an evening when Big Man, Flippin Hysterical, and Betty’s husband saddled up to my kitchen table and polished off the tequila. Summer vacation starts in three weeks and there’s no tequila in my house.

There’s no tequila in my house, I’ve known this for months, and I keep forgetting to do something about it. I may have already lost my marbles completely.

Little Man hugs with his whole body. Arms, legs, whatever he can wrap around you. I love it. I can barely pick him up anymore. Then what?

I stripped the sheets on all of the beds today. Which means that at some point today, I will have to make all of the beds in the house. Bed making is my kryptonite. Add in the pressure of having to get it done before anyone can go to sleep. Things might get ugly.

Betty and I had a nice trail this morning. We went a little quicker than we planned/expected. The sun came out. I got a little sweatier than expected, but I’m not showering before I go to the grocery store, because it’s Market Basket and NO ONE will notice. No. One. This fact alone should scare everyone.

It’s all a little random. But these are the crazy mom thoughts I’ve got today. I’m trying to get back in to the swing of things. Be patient with me!

 

 

If A Parent Speaks in the Kitchen and Children are There, Does Anyone Hear What is Said?

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About 90% of the things that come out of my mouth are a waste of time.  Why?  Because most of the time my words are never heard.  Whether I am speaking to my kids, my husband, or even my dog, the words coming out of my mouth often never reach my intended target.  It’s almost like I never spoke at all.

 

Recently, my kids and I were gathered in the kitchen for our morning medication routine.  After giving my kids their downers and popping my uppers, I decided things were going well enough to broach the subject of dinner.

 

I know – big mistake.  A) I should NEVER ask an opinion on dinner.  It always leads nowhere and ends with me pissed off with a headache.  And 2) Don’t ask about something that is more than 5 minutes into the future.  It’s a lost cause.  They’ll never remember the conversation and I am then badgered for the next 7 hours about what’s for dinner.

 

But on this fine day, I broke my rules.  The following that occurred is true.  Only the names have been changed for no real reason.

 

Me:  Hey guys, listen up.  Hey, guys, look at me…look at me. (touching each kid’s shoulder)    I have to ask you something.  You listening?  Everyone?

 

Them:  Yes.  (briefly making eye contact)

 

Me:  I was going to make kielbasa and rice tonight, but we had chicken and rice last night.  Do you want kielbasa or grilled cheese instead.

 

Now I know that is a long sentence and a lot of information followed by a choice, which throws my kids.  This was evident since by the time I said “kielbasa” the first time, the boy had gone back to playing with his lego figure and my daughter had turn to her brother and started an entirely different conversation with him, essentially talking over me.

 

Me:  Hey!  Hello?  I just asked you a question.  Did you hear me at all?

 

Yaya:  Yes. Of course!

 

Me; What did I say?

 

Yaya: ( blank stare)  Umm.  You said brush your hair and your teeth.

 

Me:  That was a half an hour ago.

 

Yaya: Oh.

Me:  (to the boy)  What about you?

 

The boy:  Umm, well, I don’t know because I can’t read yet.

 

Me:  Seriously?  I asked you a question.  I didn’t write anything down.  There was nothing to read.

 

The boy:  Oh.  Well, I don’t know because ummm,you know, I can’t talk so I, ummm, I don’t remember.

 

(SIGH)

 

Me:  I asked about din…

 

Yaya:  Grilled Cheese!  I want grilled cheese!

 

Me:  Oooo-k.  That good with you, dude?

 

The boy:  No.  I want a hot dog.  And I want it shaped like a squid.

 

Yaya:  Oh me too! Can I have a squid hotdog?

 

Me:   Sure.  How about hot dogs with mac and cheese?

 

The boy:  Wait.  I want mine to look like a human instead.

 

Yaya:  A human?  That’s gross!  I still want a squid.

 

The boy:  No wait!  Can you make mine into a creeper?  That what I want!

 

Yaya:  Oooo!  I want an Enderman hot dog!

 

Me:  I’ll make it into the Statue of Liberty if we can just stop this conversation.

 

Great. Now I have a headache.

 

Sue

Treat Her Right, Fool!

Mother’s Day is this weekend and in honor of all the moms out there, I put together a little video to show how much moms mean to the world.

I actually made the video as a joke for a friend of mine. We have a little inside joke going. We used to get together in the mornings to walk our dogs then she decide to go an get a job and leave me high and dry. One of the worst things for me is to be left alone to my own devices. Spending every morning alone with just my warped mind and two dogs is a recipe for disaster. I need adult supervision.

Since I was walking my dog anyway, I started taking her dog along as well. I would send her updates on how her “daughter” was doing at “daycare” and it kind of morphed from there. I made up a fictitious name for my daycare, Panciocco Paws Academy and post pictures of things we did on our walks. Then came the commercial and, well, it just snowballed for there.

I hadn’t done anything in awhile so when I realized Mother’s Day was coming up, I had to do a video. I found the perfect song, performed by the awesome Mr. T and the rest is history. If you want to see Mr T’s version, here’s the link: Mr. T

I posted the other videos on my YouTube page if anyone would like to see just how starved for adult companionship I really am.

So to all the moms out there, this is for you. And for all you kids out there, remember to Treat Your Mother Right!

Happy Mother’s Day!

Sue

The Day My Last Brain Cell Died

 

Poor little guy....

Poor little guy….

It was actually uneventful really.  No fanfare, no pomp and circumstance, no bright lights or flashes of color.  It kind of just slowly dimmed until at last, it blinked out, like an old incandescent light bulb.  I expected it to happen really.  They say when you become a parent, your brain cells slowly start to die.  And if you are a stay at home mom…well, forget about it.  Those suckers practically fall out as quick as my peri menopausal hair.  Long days of singing “itsy bitsy spider” four hundred times, speaking in monosyllabic sentences, fielding incessant questions beginning with “why?” along with chicken nuggets and fries as my only nutrition…it was bound to happen.  Inevitable even.  In fact, I am surprised my brain lasted me this long.

My Brain

My Brain

My Brain as Parent

My Brain as a Parent

 

Oh, I tried to fight it.  I did crossword puzzles, played Luminosity every morning, and used big words like fastidious and paradoxical and h’orderves .  But it was no use.  Years of getting my news in 15 minutes snippits and learning just enough about a subject to get by had taken it’s toll.  The thing was on it’s last leg.

 

The day started as any ordinary day.  After conducting our normal 4 hour morning routine, it was now 8:30am and we were ready to hit the stores for some errands.  My ladies at Dunkins had my order ready to go when I walked in.  The future look bright as we headed to our first stop….the pharmacy.

 

Had to get the kids ADHD medication filled.  It was then that I realized something….nowhere in our morning routine today did I actually give my kids their medicine.  This became apparent as I stood at the counter while my daughter launched herself up and down like a kangaroo on crack while rapidly firing questions at the clerk. All the while, the boy was behind me, practicing his ninja moves on the reading glasses display.  I was impressed by the durability of the display as well as his moves.  I quickly debated on going home to get the meds, but decided to forge on.

 

As we were leaving my daughter informs me her “thighs” hurt then she points to her calf muscle.

 

Me: Those are called calves.

Her: Like a baby cow?

Me: Yes

Her: Well then my cows are hurting.

 

This was followed by hysterical laughter…. and then the mooing began.  The boy, of course, happily joined in, having no clue why he was mooing.  They continued the Laurel and Hardy routine – “my cows are hurting”  “MOOOO!!!” – as we drove to our next stop.  I threatened to drop them off at the closest slaughterhouse.

 

Now that the mooing was squashed, we hit Walmart.  There is usually never any good that comes out of a trip to Walmart.  Today was no exception.  I had a return to do and need 3 things.  My daughter announced that she can no longer walk because her “cows” hurt too much.  More mooing.  I ended up putting them both in one of those mack truck carriage that weigh 400 lbs and has no steering ability.  We headed to Customer Service to stand in line, because at Walmart, there is always only one person working the register.  I realized I left my receipt in the car.  Briefly debated on leaving the kids at the service counter, but thought better of it.  I might not come back.  So I pushed the big ass cart back to my car, found the receipt and pushed the cart back to customer service.  Return done, we grabbed the 3 things I needed and 97 things I didn’t and got the hell out of there.

 

I needed to make an exchange at the next store, but realized I forgot the exchange item.  Being one exit from home, I decided to shoot back, take a pee break, grab the bag and head out again.  Screeched into the driveway, grabbed the bag, ran in to pee and got back in the car.  As I opened the door, the dog jumped into the back seat.  The kids started screaming, the dog ran all the way to the back of the van and wouldn’t come out.  F$@%k it.  You’re coming with us now, a-hole.

 

Halfway to the store it hit me.  I left the f(*&*ing bag at the house!  AGAIN!

 

And that is when it happened….that poor little brain cell, hanging by it’s nails to my gray matter, finally gave out and let go, falling slowly, silently screaming as it died in my head. Poof! It was over in a matter of seconds.

 

Strangely, I don’t feel any different now then when I had a brain.  Maybe I never really need it in the first place.   I always considered myself as a somewhat intelligent person, but maybe I never was.

 

I am not sure what life holds for me going forward without a brain.  I am hoping I just roll along through life, blissfully ignorant to the world around me.  If that is the case then you might just see me riding around in my van, filled with the delightful sounds of mooing….and it may be me whose leading the chorus.

 

Peace and Moos

Sue

 

Dirty Laundry

My husband usually does most of the laundry in our house since he is always flying off somewhere and needs clothes.  It is probably a self defense thing on his part since he gets clean clothes quicker doing it himself then waiting around for me to remember there is laundry to do.  That said, when he is away, I tend to forgot we even have a laundry room in the house and it soon piles up at an alarming rate.   Which is why I hate laundry.  Miss one day and soon there is a moutain of dirty underwear piled on your basement floor.  It’s a no win situation.   So I decide to make up a song about my disdain for laundry.  Before you watch it (or if you watch it), I would like to present the following disclaimers:

1.  I CAN’T SING!  If you have seen my other video, Snow Days, you will know this and are prepared for the off key howl which I call singing.  I know I can’t sing.  My husband, as well, has told me I can’t sing  (I guess the honeymoon’s over).  After 13 years of marriage, he might possibly be embarrassed by me.

2.  It is very hard to make a video (even a bad one) by yourself.  I used to be in video production in my former life so I know what it takes.   Back when I was doing video, there were plenty of warped individuals who liked to do crazy videos and found them just as hilarious as I did. Now, at 45, the amount of individuals who would willing participate in such antics with me have dwindled so I am all alone on this venture, just me, a tripod and a camera.  Even my children, who once thought I was funny, have shunned me.  My children are now at the age where I embarrass them and no longer want to help me.  They used to be willing participants and now they want nothing to do with my videos.  I am beginning to think they might not really be my kids.

3. These are not award winning videos.  They won’t go viral and many of you won’t find them funny.  That’s OK.  I think there are funny and a few of my friends do too.  My warped mind is always coming up with strange things and this is an outlet for me to be creative and have some fun.  If you find them funny, great.  We should be friends.  If not, then I’m sure there’s a cat video somewhere that you can watch.

So here it is.  Enjoy

Oh, one more thing….no laundry was done in the making of this video.

Peace,

Sue

Snow Day

So I was bored…again during ANOTHER snow day.  Came up with this parody to the song “Friday” by Rebecca Black.

I would just like to note a few things:

1. I CANNOT SING! (you’ll figure that out right off the bat)

2. The video is taken by my 9 year old daughter so its a little shaky

3. I am home alone with two kids, a dog, my computer and iMovie.  This is in no way a professional video like you see these days.  The quality sucks, but it was fun to make and kept the kids busy.

4. I hope you like it.

Peace on this snow day

Sue