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....