Wednesday, December 31, 2008

He's almost fully trained!

Me: You know what sounds good? Chinese food. mmmmm

Sgt. G: ih.

Me: ih?? It's Chinese!

Sgt. G: just don't know if it sounds good.

Me: oh, well, what does?

Sgt. G: no, you want Chinese, you are going to end up getting Chinese. Which means I'M going to have to go back out and get it for you.

Me: I COULD go get it myself, and I can stop and get you something, or we can both eat what you want.

Sgt. G: Please, if you want Chinese, you will have it, and I will go back out into the cold and wind and get it for you....but you have to order it.

Me: oooh. tough negotiator.

Monday, December 29, 2008

And this is why they invented gift cards

So, my mother-in-law bought me Mamma Mia for Christmas. Now, I actually do like a good musical, but this one just didn't interest me, probably due to the Abba music. Back when I was working at a bank, one of the girls would play one of their greatist hits albums, oh, about 3 times a week. It's the Abba channel, all day every day. Needless to say, if I ever did enjoy their music (not likely) all the enjoyment would have been ground out of me during that time. So, what to do with this movie....I have to admit, I toyed with the idea of trying to take it back to various stores, see if I could exchange it for something else, but I ultimately decided that would be rude. I knew that she would eventually ask me if I watched it, and I have been trying really hard lately not to tell even the littlest lies. So, the day after Christmas Sgt.G had taken the neighbor kid hunting, and after a couple of hours I gave up and put it in. Unfortunately for Sgt. G, he came home about 10 minutes into the movie."What the hell is that noise?" he asks from the other room.
Me: Mamma Mia
Sgt. G: You are actually going to watch that? Do you have to do it now? I don't think it is appropriate for your young sons to be in the house while you are watching it. (let's keep in mind that we just watched Paint Your Wagon with Motormouth last week and had to skirt around the issues of prostitution and bigamy)
Me: you mean you, and you weren't here when it started.
Sgt. G: oh good, so is it almost finished?
Me: Uh, maybe (so much for not telling those lies, right?)
an hour later...."my ears are bleeding"
Me: Hey, why should I suffer alone?
Sgt. G: if you don't like it, why are you watching it?
I then launch into my explination for watching the movie, to which Sgt. G thinks I am crazy. He thinks I should just smile and nod if she ever remembers to ask. I still think that is a little rude. I can just imagine her out shopping for me, wondering what to get, trying to find a good sale....I know it is a lot of work, I used to do all that myself, and I don't want to seem ungrateful (regardless of what she thinks, I do try to be a good daughter-in-law) So, what is the proper protocol here? If she bought me clothes and they didn't fit, it would be acceptable to exchange, right? I could even probably call her for the gift receipt in that situation. So, I am wondering what everyone else's memorable cringe-worthy gifts were, and if they sucked it up, or did something about it? Feel free to change names to protect feelings.

I am Mr. Mom

Monkey's Parapro at school has started calling him Mr. Monkey. I am praying she started doing it to reinforce using proper titles when addressing adults, since Monkey does have a habit of just using last names, and it isn't really appropriate for a kindergartener to yell "Crampton!!!" when he sees his principal. So, all vacation Sgt. G and I have been dealing with formalities. This isn't really as big of a deal for Sgt. G. Sure its strange for your kid to call you Mr. Daddy, but some people's kids call their dad 'sir' so it could be worse. But if that kid calls me Mr. Mom one more time.........ah, well, I probably wont do much of anything really, he's kinda cute.

Friday, December 26, 2008

Wait a minute, was that an option?

My inlaws came over (minus one sister in law and boyfriend- car issues) yesterday for dinner (that would be lunch for all you city folk) and we had a nice, fairly stressfree day. At least I think it was stressfree, I tend to be sort of oblivious to underlying tension if it doesn't directly involve me or scream in my face, so I think everything went okay....Anywhoo, I had been a little nervous for a number of reasons; our house is sort of small, I realized that I have never actually had Sgt. G's family over to our house (living out of state has it's perks), there are always ancient family issues just waiting to rear their ugly heads (someday I will have to tell you the story of the Red Potato Fight that I inadvertantly started a few years ago, and to this day I dare not mention red potatoes in mixed company) and the one Christmas that we hosted MY family for Christmas still makes Sgt. G and I shudder, just to name a few. So, as my mother-in-law is fussing around my kitchen (I am under no illusion that I am going to be part of the preparations here, I gave up my kitchen to her long ago) she makes the comment that she had thought about picking up some wine for dinner. Wait, What? We have never drank much around the inlaws, but since we have moved back, we have started. My brother-in-law and I had a very fun Labor Day this past summer, it was another tense weekend and he had a great time keeping hard lemonades in my hand. But, I don't think I have EVER seen Sgt. G's mom drink. I didn't even know it was an option.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Sgt G and I are making Motormouth's bed.
Sgt. G: Those are sheets for our bed
Me: no they are not, these are full, not queen(repeat these 2 statements with various phrasing a couple more times)
Me: (big sigh I learned from my mother as we stretch the sheet over the corners) I'm waiting..
Sgt. G: You were right.
Me: And?
Sgt. G: Which more importantly, were right.
Me: ah, not what I was looking for
Sgt. G: (as Motormouth wanders into his room) I can't say it in front of the kid
Me: Like he doesn't already know
Sgt. G: Okay, you were right, which more importantly means- I was wrong.
Me: Did Daddy just say anything you didn't already know?
Motormouth: Nope. You're always right. Daddy's not.
Sgt. G: Traitor
Motormouth: She knows everything you do too, just like Santa Claus

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Give me some Windex, and it all goes to Hell.

I like to clean. I admit it. I know that makes me a bit of a nut, and for those that have been to my house, you know how odd that is, since my house is rarely ever actually clean. I do like to do it. It feels great to get in all the little corners and crevices and get them all shiney...but I get a little obsessive and then I end up spending 20 minutes cleaning the exhaust fan with a Q-tip or something. So, I don't allow myself to go there very often. Its a dark place and I have a hard time coming back out into the light. There are way more important things to do in life, and I know it. Today started out innocent enough. I wanted to do laundry, wipe down the bathroom before the inlaws come tomorrow, and sweep the kitchen floor so I can mop it after the kids go to bed. Then I noticed that the sliding doors to the deck were covered with dog slobber and kid prints, so I dug out my window cleaner. This is where it all went downhill. When I got done with the windows, I decided to keep the cleaner out so I could clean all of my appliances with them. I started in the kitchen and had just gotten a nice streak free shine on the oven door when I realized that the cupboards looked a little I did those. If the cupboards are dirty, the doorknobs must be too.... 30 minutes later I find myself ridding all the doorframes and lightswitches of fingerprints. Monkey wants to eat lunch. Since he should have eaten an hour ago, this is not an outrageous request, but Mommy can't right now, because she is Windexing all the doorknobs. Next I am going to pull all the light fixtures down and wash them. I know I shouldn't, but I can't get it out of my head now. After that I think I will get the pledge back out and clean the edges of the baseboards with some Q-tips. This would be a little funny if it weren't true. I am in too deep, and if I don't I know I will lay awake tonight worrying about the dirt caught between the keys on the computer keyboard. I better get the Lysol out too, it is germ season and I can't remember the last time I sanitized the phones....So, if you ever come to my house and look around and think "would it kill her to dust?" then answer is- it might. I know I am an addict and I would like some support while I try to quit. Also, cut Sgt. G some slack, he lives with this kind of crazy every day.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Back off Lady!

Why can't people leave Monkey alone in the checkout line? I get that you are standing there, and you are bored and trying to entertain yourself, but when you try to talk to the kid and he ignores you, that is your first clue. When you get more in his face and he says "no" - listen. When you try again and his mother tells you that he doesn't talk to strangers, take the hint. Don't keep trying to engage him in conversation. I am actually happy that he won't talk to you, because we don't know you. I shouldn't have to tell you that he has Autism as a reason for his behavior when you are the one that has trouble reading social cues.One other thing, don't give food or candy to kids when you don't have their parent's permission, or even their attention. And when my kid tells you he can't eat that because it will make him feel funny, don't tell him that he can or that it will be fine just this once. Who the hell are you to decide that? ARGH!!

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

We have done our job, now off into the world you go.

We are trying to get Motormouth out the door this morning.

Sgt. G: go give your mom a kiss so we can go.

Motormouth: okay mmmmmmuah.

Me: Have a great day, and be good.

Motormouth: Okay mommy.

Me: And if you can't be good, be good at it.

Motormouth: okay.

Sgt. G: and if you don't know where to start, go back to the beginning.

Poor kid. He doesn't know it yet, but that advice is as good as it is ever going to get.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Mindy the Wonder Dog

I took the new puppy to the vet today, to get her first vaccine and to have her checked for a UTI, because honestly, I need her to have one. This cute little thing pees every 10 minutes, which is enough to drive anyone trying to potty train crazy. Give me a break, it is 20 degrees outside here. First thing I did when we brought her home was look up info on paper training online, just to refresh my memory. The article says to take her out after she wakes up, eats, drinks, has a play session, or every 45 minutes. Crap, that comes out to every 10 minutes....the second thing I did was buy her an enclosure I could put in the kitchen so I could paper the whole darn thing. This would be all fine and dandy if she wasn't peeing in her bed. Since she can't seem to get out of her bed without having an accident, we went to the vet. Ooh, I forgot about the urine sample! Let me tell you, getting a urine sample from a dog is great fun. If you haven't ever had the pleasure, you should try it. A lady at work said her vet told her to try to catch it in a soup ladle as the dog was going to the bathroom. Are you KIDDING me? (picturing myself duck-walking behind this puppy while she is trying to pee, armed with a I trapped Mindy in the kitchen and gave her a bunch of water, like I said, we only had to wait 10 minutes, and ta-da! I have a sample. On another note, I now need a new turkey baster....anyway, off to the vet we go. The vet says the sample was too diluted so they would just give us the antibiotics to try. (you mean I could have saved my turkey baster?) I did ask if it was normal for a puppy to go where she sleeps, because I had always heard that they would try really hard to avoid doing that. His response "Usually, unless they are just too stupid, which happens, but Akitas aren't really known for that..." We both look down at Mindy; who is chasing her tail. "But, it's not really looking too good."

Monday, December 15, 2008

Church should be like this all the time!

Yesterday I decided we had been heathens long enough. We were going to church, and lack of clean clothes, new puppies, tired kids, and grumpy husbands were not going to stop me. Sgt. G dressed himself and one child, because he has learned by now that if he wishes to live to see the next sunrise, he will not just get himself ready and stand by the door saying "we are going to be late!!" as I pack snacks, toys, check teeth and make sure everyone's underwear was changed, and then try to shower. As we are walking out the door, Monkey throws one doozie of a tantrum. First he tries to refuse putting on socks and shoes, but this is an old trick and I respond by saying fine and hauling him out into the breezeway. Standing barefoot on concrete in December makes you reevaluate your he refuses to get in the truck or getting buckled, but hey, this ain't new to Mommy either, so after a minute of Mommy sitting on him in the truck (and Daddy trying really hard not to laugh in the front seat) I end up sucessfully buckling him in and sit next to him in the back with one leg over his so he can't kick, and holding his hands, he is reduced to screaming...which he does the entire drive there. Sgt. G and I discuss that the new brand of chocolate soy milk JUST MIGHT have Gluten in it afterall! Sgt G drops Motormouth and me out at the door and settles in to wait Monkey out. Motormouth and I sneak in (because we are late of course) and sit in the back. For 5 minutes I shush him until I realize that I didn't give him his ADHD meds that morning, so he has the right to remain silent, just not the ability. After 15 minutes Sgt. G and Monkey make their entrance while the choir is singing the first of two songs. When the song ends Monkey announces "Let's go home!" and when the music starts again "*sigh* One more song!" just loud enough for half the congregation to hear. Then the children's choir gets up and sings three songs, complete with Monkey repeating his requests inbetween each one. They pass the offering plate while Sgt. G checks his watch. "Pastor Tom is sick, so there doesn't seem to be a sermon today" I whisper. "getting out should be like this all the time!!" he whispers back. I resist the urge to smack him.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Ah, Perspective

We moved back to Michigan last Spring. Moving is normal for us, and to honest, after a year or two in one place I am excited to go someplace new. This is mostly because even though the next place will be new, it will also be the same. All military bases are essentially alike. They all have a grocery and department store, fire and police station, bowling alley and movie theatre, vet clinic and thrift store. There are family services that help you find jobs, child care, lend you household items until your own things arrive, etc. Not to mention entire neighborhoods of people who will intsantly loan you things you need, show you around, keep you company and provide playmates for your kids. There is certainly a sense of security living on base. You live in the ultimate gated community, an entire town protected by gates and armed guards. Not to mention the fact that I lived with part of the police detail, and knew all the cops on patrol. I knew help was only a phone call away, and whoever anwered the phone would be someone I knew. I also knew that if I got pulled over, no one really wanted to give me a ticket. Life was pretty sweet on base. So, knowing that moving to Michigan meant we would be leaving all that security behind, it was a little scary. We were house hunting over the internet, and living someplace safe was my main concern. The night before we left for Michigan to have a house hunting weeked, we were woken up by the sounds of yelling. "Help!! Help!!" about every ten seconds. We figured it was teenagers. Nighttime disturbances were pretty commonplace. Sgt. G finally got up and called the MP's. The desk's response was "I hope you are calling about the disturbance in Herryford Village, because everyone we got is heading that way!" Sure enough, soon the yells for help were then joined with this yell of "I'm an MP!" barking K-9's, and about 6 cars with flashing lights lighting up the entire neighborhood. Dogs were released, pepper spray was used, and because the MP in charge was an idiot, it took 45 minutes to get a domestic disturbance under contol. As we lay in bed watching the red and blue pulsate on our walls and ceiling, I started laughing uncontrollably. "Gee babe, it will sure be hard to find someplace as safe as this to live!"

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

I think I know the reason(s) I am crazy

This is a recap of a few of the conversations I have had today. I think a combination of this cold, cold medication, dead-end conversations, circulatory speaking and repetitive demands are really starting to take their toll on me. Help me. Please.
Me: Did you go on your field trip today?
Motormouth: yup.
Me: Where did you go? (I know I signed the permission slip, so I know I am a bad mom for not knowing this already)
Motormouth: I'm right here.
Me: I don't mean now, I mean for the field trip.
Motormouth: I don't know the name of the street.
Me: Okay (deep breath, we will try this another way)....what did you do?
Motormouth: we left bags.
Me: oh! for the food drive!! (I remember!!!)
Motormouth: Duh.(only problem with this is that I SWEAR they did the food drive at the beginning of last week, because we got a note home that Motormouth wasn't dressed warmly enough, so now I am back at the beginning)

Me: You brought home a library book.
Monkey: Yes.
Me: I will read it to you before bed, okay?
Monkey: okay.Me: (I read the title) 'I am an Ankylosaurus'. Wait, I think Daddy will read this too you. (I just want to hear him try to say Ankylosaurus)
Monkey: No Daddy! I play Batman? (repeat last phrase about 4 times a minute for 10 minutes)

phone rings
Sgt G: I priced caps for my truck, since we are getting another dog we will need the cap because she wont fit in the truck with us.
Me: and?
Sgt. G: total price $1800
Me: yeah right.
Sgt. G: We have been talking about a cap for the truck
Me: no you have been talking about a cap, I have been doing what's called 'being polite'- but I think I am done now. Can't we just put her in a kennel and strap it to the back?
Sgt. G: (horrified) No!
Me: We could take the mini-van, if that dog wont fit in there then we need to seriously reconsider.
Sgt. G: We can talk about it later
Me: You might want to wait until I take more Nyquil
Sgt. G: good idea!
(if this doesn't work I am sure he will frustrate me into submission ala Motormouth, or wear me down with repetitiveness like Monkey. Those kids had to learn it from someone.)

Monday, December 1, 2008

Good Grief!

As some of you know Sgt. Grumpypants went north to hunt with his dad and other assorted male family members after Thanksgiving. Saturday I mentioned the word Daddy and that caused Monkey to stand at the front door looking out the window for him for 15 minutes (it was a little sad, and disturbing from a military family standpoint-he had only been gone a couple of days. He has been home WAY to much, I guess). So I sent Sgt. G a text to call home, not that Monkey would talk to him on the phone, but he could at least hear his voice on speaker phone, right? No answer, so over an hour later I sent him another text. Cell phone coverage is spotty, but usually the texts get through. Still nothing. I am starting to get a little irritated, since it is then I realized that Sgt. G didn't call the night before to tell his kids goodnight either, and I grumbled a little under my breath about not calling. Motormouth overhears me and says very matter-of -factly:"He's probably been killed."
Me: WHAT??? why would you say that???
Motormouth: "or he's lost in the woods." He shrugs. (no more movies for you, ya little desenstized monster!)
Okay, I try not to be one of those wives that calls and harasses her husband when he is out with the guys, I at least try not to give the impression that he is whipped, but give me a break!!"Motormouth, Daddy is fine, I am sure that he is, if he wasn't they would have called, okay??? Here, I will call the cottage and prove it"I call. Sgt. G picks up and almost immediatly says he is sorry. I can hear the guys laughing in the background....I explain what Motormouth said and the reason that I was calling. Sgt. G talks to Motormouth, who now is almost in tears; I guess he really had been worried, and just didn't say anything all weekend. Poor kid.Now we both feel like terrible parents, Sgt. G for not calling before bedtime, and me not realizing that anyone would want to talk to him. (I guess that makes me a bad wife too, huh?) At least I am still used to him being gone and not hearing from him for weeks at a time....

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Went to bed and was asleep for about 10 minutes, when I wake up to a really loud crashing/banging sound. It lasts about 4 seconds and stops. Then there is a series of bangs. I sit up in bed. Then there is another louder series of crashing/banging that lasts about 6 seconds. Rocky lets out this really pathetic, quiet growl. (This is the dog that has been on hyper-vigilant mode since Sgt. G left- barking and growling at nothing all evening in an effort to 'protect' me). I say to him "oh, you're soo tough now that there is actually a threat!" Then I realize that talking to the dog is probably not the smartest thing to do when there is an intruder in the house. I then have the following thoughts:
1. Oh my God, there is actually something out there
2. At least all of my valuables are sleeping peacefully at Grandma's
3. Which means the guy who: a) knows where the ammo is, b) has the keys for the boxes that the ammo and Glock are locked in and c) has actually shot people, is also at Grandma's.
4. great.
I get up and creep through the kitchen, everything is clear. I can still hear scuffling coming from the living room. I decide that giving the impression that I am crazy isn't such a bad idea, so I turn to Rocky (who is slinking behind me with his tail between his legs) and say "if there IS someone in there, I am THROWING you at them." I peek into the living room and see the above picture.

this cage had been on a 3 foot high bookshelf. They somehow launched themsevles off of it, hitting the back of the couch and end table on the way down.
Now my only thought is- I am SOOOO glad I cleaned that cage today.

you should be scared, you dumb bunnies-I HAD BEEN the only thing between Sgt. G and a pair of bunny slippers.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Two Peanut Geniuses

(for the record, this note has nothing to do with peanuts, so if you were hoping for that, you might want to stop reading now or brace yourself for the disappointment.)

I went to my friend Jenn's this weekend with the boys (she is known on FB as Veiner Schnitzel, but she will always be a Peanut to me) she and her hubby and 4 beautiful girls live on a farm, so we packed up the dog and went for an overnight.When we got there, the kids decided to go play in the barn, there is a horse, and some chickens to go harass, so they all headed out. In a moment of ultimate blondeness, Jenn and I agreed that it would be okay for Rocky (our dog) to go too. In my defense- I assumed the chickens were in a coop, in Jenn's defense- she assumed that my 12 lb dog was smaller and therefore would leave the chickens alone. (I know that most of you are already laughing...) After a while the kids come and tell us that Rocky is "stuck" in the barn with the horse. I worried that the horse will spook and stomp on Rocky in front of the kids, terrifying them, and Jenn can't imagine what he could possibly be stuck in, so we head out to the barn. When we get out there, Rocky is no longer "stuck" but has decided that chicken chasing might be fun, and starts chasing them everywhere. The girls are nervous, but he isn't coming when we call, and for about a minute, the chickens are winning.

That was a really nice minute.

Rocky manages to get ahold of one. I believe her name was Mrs. Hen. Chaos ensues. The girls try to get across the horse pasture to where the dog and Mrs. Hen are. One gets stuck in the muck. Literally. Almost up to her knee, and her shoe is gone. Somehow Mrs. Hen is saved from the evil 12 lb. Chicken Chomping Machine, who is still on the loose and thirsty for blood. More yelling, screaming, chasing, crying and squawking. Rocky is now doing laps around the barn, and we can't catch him. I am assuming that he figured out that we weren't all cheering his efforts at being a real dog, so he ran around the barn one more time and was gone.


Now we have a half dozen running, yelling, muck-covered children-at least one of whom is distraught and one who isn't wearing both shoes, two maternal idiots, one bleeding chicken, one missing dog (and a partridge in a pear tree) and it is almost completely dark. Could this get any worse? Of course. Sgt. G picks that exact minute to call (God has such a sense of humor). His response is "you better find my dog!!" Thanks. I recall being very polite and sweetly telling him that he was not being helpful and I couldn't really talk right then. He said that he would call back in 20 minutes. I didn't really figure he would be LESS grumpy in 20 minutes, so my plan was to lose my phone on the way back to the house. Rocky returned and Motormouth managed to grab his collar and drag him across the yard. We all head back to the house to regroup. There is enough light to see that Rocky is smeared with muck and blood and so Jenn and I are trying to get him past everyone and into the tub before everyone sees him and gets even more worked up. Sgt. G calls back. It has been 7 minutes. I tell him we found Rocky and hang up on him. I handle the dog cleaning and poor Jenn handles all the child cleaning and calming. She is WAY more awesome than me.
The chicken survived.
Rocky survived.
The shoe survived.
Sgt. G called back to let me know he had called back before because he realized he hadn't been helpful and was offering to drive out with a flashlight to search for Rocky and provide Chicken Disposal if needed. Everyone settled down, and Rocky was forgiven enough that he got to sleep in the house that night.

There really should be some sort of test for my job.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Death Threats from a 6 year old

Monkey: I kill you mommy! With this thumb!! (holds up his thumb)

Me: Which thumb? This one or that one?

Monkey: (looking at his thumbs) This one!! I am mad, mad!! (scowl)

Me: Um, okay. Go ahead. I dare you.

Monkey: Hi-ya! Take that Mommy! (pokes me with his thumb) (evil glare)

Me: (trying not to laugh at the angry monkey) oh. ouch.

Monkey: (seeing my smile, he gets more upset) Now I really get you!!! (sticks both his hands in my hair and messes it up)

Ack!! a fate worse than death by thumb. Messy hair.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

A Foolproof Plan

Sgt. G and I are watching election coverage.

Sgt. G: ugh, if Obama wins, I think I'm going to jump off a bridge.

Me: Try to make it look like an accident, so we can still get your life insurance and military benefits.

Sgt. G: I'll will do it in front of someone, and yell "I triiiipped!!!!!" on the way down.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Motormouth's vote counts

Motormouth came home with a sticker that said "I voted!"
Me: you voted today, who did you vote for?

Motormouth: The guy with the white hair

Me: John McCain. Why?Motormouth: Because he is old, and you have to be old to be the president.

I guess Motormouth is a "one issue" voter.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

More of Motormouth's political views

I am a little irked with Time Kids, the school should at least have Newsweek Kids or something to balance it out.

Motormouth: Mom, Do you know who I want to be president?

Me: Who?

Motormouth: Which one is the white haired guy?, yeah, the other one? Him, I want Barak Obama to be president.

Me: Okaaaay, why? (why do I ask questions?)

Motormouth: Because if Obama is president, he is going to make preschool so we can all go there so BOTH our parents can work a really long time.

Me: Gee, that sounds like the American Dream.

Motormouth: I Know!!

Me: First of all, preschool is only for 3-4 year olds, so you couldn't go. Second of all, Daddy works really hard so I can be home with you and you don't have to be without me for a "really long time".

Motormouth: Oh, I wanted to go to preschool.

Me: Thanks, I love you too.

Motormouth: I still want Obama. He is going to help parents work long hours.

Monday, October 27, 2008

I am no longer accepting calls from Grandville Public Schools

School social worker called me about Monkey. She is part of Monkey's IEP team and they are re-evaluating him to see if he qualifies for services, etc. She let me know that he is eligible for services (duh) and that they have finished testing him. She also then asks if he has been to a psychologist and been given any diagnosis'. You mean, besides the one for Autism? She has noticed that Monkey has started squinting/blinking and making a 'slurping' sound sometimes for no apparent reason. (I too have noticed these in the past few weeks) Are they tics, or stims? I dunno, we haven't ever had an issue with tics, so I was just watching and hoping they would go away. Well, maybe we should get his vision tested. I almost started laughing (probably not a good idea to ever laugh at a social worker that is dealing with your kid) This is coming from a person that has struggled to test Monkey for the past few weeks. She KNOWS that it takes this kid several meetings for him to warm up enough to you to do anything besides yell "NO" and/or lay on the floor when you ask something of him, and you better have a skittle or something so when he does what you request, he has enough motivation to do something else for you. At least this method works best for school testing purposes. Sure lady, I will take him off to the doctor, and take him into a dark room and try to get him to look into the funny eye machine and answer questions asked by some stranger. I bet we will have an accurate vision test in minutes!! (I bet I will have a killer migraine in minutes!) But, what do you do? As a parent, and former mandated reporter of child abuse/neglect, I know that if I don't follow through with her suggestion for the eye exam, and he continues to squint, she can accuse me of neglect. But, she KNOWS there is no way to actually do this testing right now. Do I waste my time and money, torture Monkey for no good reason, and frustrate some poor eye doc just so I can say we tried? Nope, I will wait for her to bring it up again, and very sweetly ask when the school is doing IT'S next vision screening, and will she please be available to go with him so they can get an accurate test, since she KNOWS my kid so well now. I know you are just trying to do your job, but could you at least think before you speak, and not ask me to do something that can't really be done right now, and may not even need to be done at all? It is an offhand comment to you, but a bunch of stress for me, because here I am worrying and second-guessing whether or not I am doing the right thing for my kid. AAAARRRRGGGGUUUUHHHHH!!!

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

What DO third graders talk about at lunch?

This morning when Motormouth got up Sgt. G had already turned on the news, it was recapping the riviting "debate" from last night.
Motormouth: Hey! That's John McCain!!

Me: And......? Do you know him?

Motormouth: Yes, he is going to be the next president of the United States.

Me: No, he is TRYING to be the next president, so is that guy standing next to him, his name is Barack Obama, we have to vote next month to choose who the president will be.

Motormouth: It's John McCain, not Bara-Bomba.

Me: How do you know?

Motormouth: Because John McCain is one of the good guys, and the bomb guy is just TRYING to be one of the good guys.

I am not sure where he gets his information from, but it must be nice to be so certain.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

I always suspected....

At the mall last weekend waiting to catch a movie with the family. I ended up with both boys in the bathroom while Sgt. G got dinner.

Me: Monkey, please go potty before the movie. See, Motormouth has to go too.

Monkey: Noooo!

Me: Yes. Or no movie.

Monkey: (always the negotiator) uh...No Wash Hands!!

Me: Yes, we always wash our hands after using the bathroom.

Monkey: No

Me: Yes.

Motormouth: When we go with Daddy, he doesn't let us wash our hands.

Lady in Stall Next To Us: hee, hee, hee

Friday, September 19, 2008

Hey Big Daddy

Got a call from one of Motormouth's teachers today. She was telling me that there was a girl in the class that told her "my daddy's name is T-E-R-R-Y-J-O-N-E-S" The teacher says "Oh, I know Terry Jones, I went to school with your dad." Motormouth says "did you go to school with my dad?" The teacher says "Oh, maybe, what is your dad's name?" Motormouth says "It's D-A-D-D-Y" Teacher says "okay, what is his real name? What does your mom call your dad?" (now isn't THAT a dangerous question???) Motormouth (so serious) "D-A-D-D-Y".

Oh, that's just great.

Yakkity Yak

Me: did you make sure that Mrs. Berends got that envelope that I sent in your folder for her?

Motormouth: (formerly known as T-man): Yes! I put it on the teacher's desk in my class that has no chairs, just balls to sit on. She is in there sometimes.

Me: Okay, but do you know if she got it? It had money in it.

Motormouth: yeah, she came in and saw it and picked it up and saw me and said (in singsong voice) '"Motormouth" thank you very much, tell your mom.....blah, blah, blah.'

Me: Mrs. Berends said to tell me blah, blah, blah?

Motormouth: (giggling) No, she said real words, I just don't remember any of them.

Me: Gee, hope it wasn't something important.

Motormouth: Don't worry mom, I'm sure it wasn't.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Attack Dog

Rocky is on the warpath today. He stayed outside for an hour this morning so he could moniter the movements of a plastic bag that was threatening our house and all it's occupants by laying in our front yard. He then continued his security patrol by barking and growling hysterically in every room of our house until I would come and chase him out and into the next one. His ears prick up and his hackles raise every time the refridgerator kicks on. This is a 12 lb. Army of One dedicated to driving me out of my mind. I had attempted to organize the kid's dressers and dust the house today, but I finally gave up so I could come and protect the dog from himself. He responded by stretching out in the sun and falling asleep. What did I do this afternoon? I watched a dog breathe. I feel postively productive.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Such a great mom

It's raining here, and it is about time for T-man to get off the bus. Feeling overly motherly, I grab the umbrella and head out to wait for him. Feeling pretty great about myself for about 5 minutes until I remembered that T-man is staying after school for tutoring. Where's my Super-Mom cape so I can strangle myself with it?

Friday, September 5, 2008

Oh Wheeeeeere is my Monkey???

Monkey's school calls again yesterday:
Me: Did he do better today?

Them: Well, it was a rough start since he didn't come right away.

Me: Uh, What?

Them: Well, he wasn't on the bus, so we just figured that he wasn't coming today, but you hadn't called the absent hotline so.......don't worry, the bus driver brought him back.

Me: Brought him back from WHERE?

Them: oh... uh... she just brought him in. I guess he hid between the seats for a while. He came in about a 12:45 (don't panic here everybody-school starts at 12:30, but at the time I thought it started at 12:15) so we took him right to gym. He did okay there, I gave him a Skittle for participating....

Me: Can we go back for a minute? How long was it before she realized he was still on the bus? Had she left the school?

Them: Oh, I really don't know...she has a lot of kindergarteners you know.... (yeah, Monkey's school has one afternoon Kindergarten class of 23 kids, even if they all ride his bus.....) I think there is a policy where they have to check all the seats....I guess if you need more information then you will have to call Transportation.

Me: (over the screaming inside my head) Thanks, that is really helpful. I guess I will just ask the busdriver tomorrow what happened. Even with ALL those other kindergarteners, I bet she'll notice if he gets off from now on.

P.S.- After this call, and I figured out that the timeline was 10-15 minutes, I started to feel a little better. The chances of her parking the bus and leaving it somewhere and then coming back are next to none in that time frame. I talked to the busdriver and she had started to leave the school and realized he was there, and took him back. Monkey giggled the whole time. Also, if they are going to park the bus, they have to walk to the back and engage something that says it is empty or all these alarms go off, so they check it when they park it. So, it is the thoughts of what could have been that are so terrifying for a parent. The principal is brand new this year, (and wasn't the one that made the initial call to me) and she is a little shaken by this, so she was going to call Transportation herself. She did however get to talk to Sgt. Grumpy this morning about it, I bet that was fun for her

Friday, August 29, 2008

So Polite

Took Monkey to the Doctor today to get updated on immunizations. He needed two because he turned 6, and when we got there the nurse said he should also get the another chicken pox (bonus for Monkey; live virus means no school for you! at least it does in this house). I was really worried about this visit because the last Doctor visit we went on was the FIRST one ever that Monkey didn't scream or cry at, so let's give him shots this time, shall we?He did great, did everything he was supposed to, I was so proud. Now come the shots. They sent 2 nurses in (good for them) so we could pin him down. Monkey is miserable and crying really hard. 3 shots and a lot of stuggling later; the nurse hands Monkey a tissue for his tears and he responds "Thank you so much for helping my mom. *hiccup*"

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Monkey made it through the day

Yesterday was going to be a tough day for Monkey. I knew it and had been trying to prepare him. we were going to both his and T-man's schools in the a.m. for school pictures (strange they do them before school even starts, but at least I was able to be there for Monkey, so maybe it wont look like a pre-execution pic like the one 2 years ago did) and then back in the evening to meet the teachers and see the classrooms. I expected it not to go well, since any mention of school results in Monkey screaming "NO SCHOOL!!". It's not that he is afraid of the unknown here, even though he is going to Kindergarten this year, it is his 4th year of school. He practically has an associates degree in pre-school, and rode the bus all last year so he knows what he is in for. So....lots of adults, lots of crazy kids, stuffy hallways, and teachers trying to talk to him. This is the stuff Monkey nightmares are made of. But, after clearly outlining my expectations (you will behave and take a nice picture and say hi to your teacher, if you do; you get some candy and can play on the playground. If you don't, no candy, playground or Wii for the rest of the day) Monkey came through with flying colors. He let the picture lady touch him and move his face around to take the picture, and later he marched up to his teacher, waved and yelled "Hi Teacher!!" at her. He was also good at T-man's school both times. Monkey came through with flying colors, and hopefully gave his teacher hope for the coming school year. It gives me hope that we are doing the right thing by putting him in general ed for the first time. Everyone keep your fingers crossed and say a prayer that we all survive what is to come!

Monday, August 25, 2008

OH the Irony!

Took the kids to my parent's for a kid-free weekend. I managed to pack up the kids specialty foods, T-man's meds, 3 Sock Monkeys (yeah, I said 3, it woulda been 4 if we hadn't used the weekend away to retire one of them. He is in Sock Monkey Heaven now) bathing suits, video games, packed clothes in entire outfit groups (shirt, socks, undies, shorts) and in chronological order so all Grandma had to do was pull a set out of the bag, and all the usual stuff that kids travel with. I spent over 2 hours listening to and answering T-man's questions about life. "Why does Scooby-Doo keep running into ghosts?" (so they can keep making quality cartoons)"What are you and Daddy going to do without us for two days?" (Play with your LEGOs without permission)"Why do those people look like they are from the olden days?" (They are Amish) I get to my parents' and wait for over an hour for them to come home ("we'll be home by 3:30") and drive over 2 hours home. Sunday morning rolls around. We are on our way to meet Sgt. Grumpypants' parents at church to hear the pastor that married us guest preach(11 oh-so-happy years folks!!). It is then and only then that I realize that I forgot to leave the carseats with my parents (who, coincidently, didn't realize it either, so no real crisis there) We have to turn around and drive an ENTIRE 8 MILES back home. This makes us ON TIME for church, instead of the usual 20 minutes early Sgt. Grumpypants likes to be (eek!) But, it does mean that we can't stay for brunch because we need to get to my parents so they can go to a church picnic. Sgt. Grumpypants is so upset that he hardly speaks to me for the entire day. (It was explained to me later that he thought silence was better than yelling, after all, I shouldn't be forgetting something like car seats, How hard is it to remember car seats? If you leave a kid, you leave a car seat.)Monday morning comes. Sgt. Grumpypants leaves for work. Guess what Sgt. Grumpypants forgot to get out of his truck before he left? He, he, he, he.