Hey kid do you...want some candy, to go home, a sticker, me not to strangle you?

I got a note from Monkey's teachers this week. It seems he does great at school as long as the routine is followed. Monkey totally freaks out if there is any change to the schedule at all. I know both sides of this problem, we struggle with it at home too. You can't avoid schedules altogether, especially at school, just like you can't avoid interruptions to that schedule. I am a little frustrated that they can't figure out a solution that works for school without asking me. This is Woman 101: The Art of Manipulation. Try whispering in his ear "Hey Monkey, do you want a skittle?" if he says yes, say "Great! Let's go do (insert task here), then we will get a skittle."
This works on people of all ages. Maybe not with Skittles. You just have to find that person's "currency". How many of you haven't done a variation of this with either your kids or your significant other? "Would you like to (insert favorable treat)? Okay, do (insert unfavorable task) and then you can (insert favorable task/treat)."
I really don't want to spell this out for them again. Instead I think I will just send a note back saying:
"Oh, I am so sorry for Monkey's behavior. I wish I knew what to tell you, but the truth is, his dad is the same way. Let me know what you figure out to do with Monkey, because I would really love it if his dad would also quit hiding under the table when he gets upset."

Boys are so competitive

The flu has been going around our house, and everyone got the 24 hour strain except Sgt. G. His lasted longer, and he got to take his on a road trip to Kentucky and back this weekend. He called when he got back into Michigan to let me know he was just a few hours away. Motormouth hears me asking G how he is feeling and being generally sympathetic. He announces loudly from the other side of the room:
"You tell Daddy I was WAY more sick than he is...I threw up at Grandma's and the throw up came out my NOSE!!"

You can blame this rant on Todd.

This is actually my brother-in-law's theory, he ranted about this years and years ago to me and I completely agree with him, and because of that, I have had to bite my tongue through more conversations with idiot guys than I can count. Most recently I had to sit through a formal dinner with one particular idiot, and I was almost bleeding by the time the night was through. Since he was a co-worker of Sgt. G's, and I had known the guy for all of 10 minutes, I refrained from embarrassing him in front of everyone. (which in retrospect was a great accomplishment for me, since as some of you know, I don't have much of a filter, and I had consumed several Jack and Cokes throughout this meal)
Have you ever noticed that some guys will complain that his girl is never in the mood, or that she will "hold out" when they are fighting like that is the girl's fault, and not his? I just don't get that. Guess what Dude, if your girl is holding out on you that is noone's fault but yours...and the rest of us are just going to make fun of you if you willingly share that information. Any guy who complains that his girl "holds out", or never seems to be in the mood might as well hang a big sign around his neck announcing "Not that good in bed". Did it ever occur to you that women won't deprive themselves of something that is great for them just because they are mad at you? Newsflash, we don't. Why on earth would we punish ourselves just because you are acting like an moron? Here's a thought, work on your skills. Find out what makes your girl tick (because here's a surprise- we are all different) and make sure she is having a good time, every time. If you do, I can promise you that she will actually say she is sorry first- just to get back into bed. She will magically be in the mood as often as you are, because DUH, we like to feel good too.
So, Sgt. G's co-worker, here's a little advice: instead of putting all this effort into tracking your girl's 'cycle' in an attempt to know when you might get lucky (which by the way, is NOT proper dinner conversation), try being good at it. It's not that hard. Being good at something pays off more than being lucky any day. And if you can't manage to do that, could you at least keep your shortcomings to yourself?

No good deed goes unpunished

My poor mother-in-law. Bless her heart, this poor woman. Not only does she have to deal with me on a regular basis, but her heartfelt gestures seem to come back to bite her.
Monkey had a 24 hour flu bug at the beginning of last week. I managed to come down with it in the wee hours Saturday morning (I mean, REALLY, why is it ALWAYS 2 a.m.?). Sgt. G remembered mid-morning that his parents were in town that day and were going to come over to visit at some point. I am feeling like spit warmed over, and between Monkey and my essay paper fiasco, I haven't picked up anything in this house or cleaned it all week. I suggest that either G calls his parents and tells them not to come, or get cleaning....he made the call. My mother-in-law immediately says she will come get the kids and take them home with her. Isn't that nice? So nice that I can't just say yes like a normal person. NO, I have to insist that it is okay, I mean, it isn't like I haven't ran this household while sick on my own before (Sgt. G had to work all afternoon and evening on Sat, and was leaving Sunday morning for Ft. Knox), we will be fine, thanks anyway...I mean, how delirious am I? Just say Yes, thank you! And then shut up. Thankfully she is undeterred and makes arrangements to come and take the kids to a germ free zone. I am glad she did, Sgt. G got the flu while at work (still had to stay, but that is a whole other issue) so he wouldn't have been much help anyway. I wake up feeling refreshed, and overly ambitious. I think I will not only turn in my final draft of the essay due today, but also turn in the rough draft of the next essay I have to write that is due on Tuesday. I will also do my other homework in advance, and sanitize this house....sounds great right? It is amazing what 20 hours of sleep will do for a person. Then my mother-in-law calls. Seems Motormouth came down with the flu while at her house. I guess he was so sick that she ended up sleeping with him last night...so for her efforts she will likely get her turn with this lovely bug by the end of the week. She would like to bring him home a little early. Can't say as I blame her.

I know how to HAVE FUN.

I'm trying to get the kids out the door tonight. I am trying, but failing. On a long list of hold-ups is the issue of footwear. We are going to a school carnival and I want the kids to wear shoes because we will be indoors. Monkey wants to wear his boots. "We will just stand here until you put your shoes on," I say. "We can't go and HAVE FUN until you put your shoes on." We all stand around for about a minute (Look at me, practicing my patience!!) and Monkey finally gives in and puts on his shoes. The idea of missing out on HAVING FUN is too much for him. He points out that they have red dots on them. They look like they have been put there on purpose, but I have no idea why. Something to do with getting them on the right feet at school maybe, and Monkey needs me to be impressed with his dots. "Oooohhhh!" I exclaim. "Dots!!" (Look at me, practicing my enthusiasm). I must have convinced Monkey that I loved the dots appropriately enough, because we were finally on our way out the door.....to HAVE FUN....at the school carnival. One stop on the way, I had to hit the bank ATM. As we pull into the parking lot Monkey announces "This is NOT fun." Glad you noticed, kid. Motormouth explains "you can't have fun without money." I am slightly disturbed that my nine year old believes this to be true. "There are lots of things you can do for fun that don't cost anything." I say. "uh, yeah mom, I know, but we aren't doing one of those things tonight. I was telling Monkey that we couldn't have fun TONIGHT without money.(like, duh)" Oh. I'll save my fear of raising materialistic monsters for another day. We spent an hour at the carnival playing games and winning candy. We did manage not to win one of those poor goldfish that you have to bonk on the head with a ping pong ball, my run as Dr. Dolittle must finally be over. So, after an hour of chaos I call it a night. The kids are both well sugared and one of them is sporting blue hair, and they are both bouncing around begging for cotton candy- it is definitely time to go (without the cotton candy). I was pretty impressed, we managed to navigate a crazy, loud, overly-crowded room with adults talking to and touching Monkey for an hour with no embarrassing scenes. I sort of feel like we should celebrate somehow..... This is a small victory of sorts...... I fight the urge to go to Meijer's and buy goldfish.

Can't argue with that.

I finish cleaning the bunny cage and haul the bag 'o poo out to the kitchen

Sgt. G: Don't even think about putting that in the kitchen trash

Me: I do all the time

Sgt. G: You can just haul your pretty little butt outside with that.

Me: But its really cold ou....

Sgt. G: and while your at it you can grab the trash from the garage too.

Me: You mean the trash you were going to take out last night?

Sgt G: yup, I only got it as far as the garage.

Me: But....

Sgt. G: I got up and fed the kids, am doing laundry, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher and ran to the store for bread and bacon so I could cook you breakfast, which is almost ready.

(I open my mouth, then close it)

Sgt. G: yeah, that's what I thought, you got nothing.

Maybe I should look in the mirror.....

I crawl out of bed this morning after 8 (my negotiated morning to sleep in). Monkey hears me come out of the bedroom and comes running into the kitchen from the living room
"Mommy!! Good Morni....I havta hide!" he turns and runs back into the living room.
"what's the deal? Do I look that bad?" I ask
Sgt. G turns and looks me up and down, stopping at my hair, which feels like it is standing on end. "You are looking a little frightening."

Excuse me for not being bald like everyone else in this house.

A little later I am at the computer and Motormouth starts hovering around me.
"Can I play the computer when you are done with your homework?"
Me: "sure, just give me 10 minutes"
Motormouth: "Thanks mom, you are the best. I love you so much. *big hug*"
Me: What did you do?
Motormouth: Nothing, I just love you.
Me: hmmmm.
Motormouth: Are you feeling okay? I don't want you to be sick anymore.
Me: what are you talking about?
Motormouth: you just don't look so good.

I hope he realizes that there is no inheritance.

Pointless recount of my day.

Okay, so yesterday I am just not having a great day. Tried to make some phone calls in the morning but ended up leaving messages...tried to take a nap in the afternoon, but ended up having people returning my phone calls from the morning. That and a very strange recorded call about not wanting to saddle my family with expensive funeral costs...(what do I care, I'm dead.) Monkey got home and it turns out he didn't have a very good day either. He only earned one star out of the four he needs to get to play the Wii, so he was upset. In addition to only earning the one, I guess he decided to crawl under a table during his Speech time. When threatened with star removal, he came out kicking. Then biting. His principal had to come down and get him for a little trip down to the office. Within 15 minutes Monkey was asleep on a beanbag chair in the office (So THAT'S where my nap went!) So Monkey wins the bad day competition, because it only got worse for him when he got home and had to deal with an upset Momma. Not only do you lose Wii privledges, but all your handheld games too. Sucks to be you, you shouldn't try to bite people. At least Motormouth had a better day...no 6th grader physically assaulting his teacher like on Tuesday, so his week is improving. Then we had to go to the store to try to find Monkey's cereal, they have been out of it for almost 2 weeks now, and guess what? They still are. But I promised we would get some popcorn and the boys could watch a movie in Motormouth's room when we got home. At the store there was fighting over who holds Mommy's hand, who stands on the end of the cart, who gets to touch the grapefruit and who gets to be the monitor of who touches the grapefruit (guess what???? Mommy handles both those jobs just fine, thanks), who gets to carry the popcorn through the store, who unloads the cart, who checks the Coinstar machine for Canadian change......aaarrrggghhhhh. If they are driving me nuts they can't be pleasant for anyone else, so I renege on our previously agreed upon trip to Blockbuster and go straight home. Poor babies, have to watch one of the 150 movies you already own. When's dinner? when's dinner? When's dinner? (better question What's dinner What's dinner?) I banish them with popcorn bowls to the other room. Why does Monkey get more popcorn than I do? (I love him more, that's why) Monkey is climbing onto my top bunk. He is turning my light on/off. Monkey doesn't have quite enough language to tattle quite as well, so he just keeps coming in and saying "Moooommmmm....HE, Motormouth!!" I finally give up and stuff my ear buds in and crank up my Zune. A little Clapton should help....except I can still hear them. "uh oh...Mommy put her earplugs in, that means she doesn't want to hear us anymore. I am in charge now Monkey" "Okay!!!" This is slightly disturbing for me, but they both seem happy with the arrangement, so I guess I don't care. They leave me alone long enough for me to scrounge up some dinner and get myself remembering why I wanted to have kids in the first place. Oh that's right! I need someone to pay for my expensive funeral arrangements.

Once and M.P., Always an M.P.

Me: Hey babe, did you get me a manila envelope so I could mail my nursing application?

Sgt. G: Yea, I brought you, like, a dozen from work. That should last you a while.

Me: Ummm, thanks. You stole government property for me. Awwww. You still wuuuv me!

Sgt. G: Not stealing. "Appropriating" unsecured materials.

Hi.

I have created this blog mostly because I think I have more time on my hands than I actually do. That and I have friends who shall remain nameless (Chris and Sarah) that haven't been sucked in by FaceBook yet so they are totally out of the loop on what is going on in my little world. Nicknames have been created to protect the innocent and clueless, and to appease the head of the household- who would become even more grumpy if perfect strangers not only knew the initmate details of his life, but who he actually was. So, my husband is Sgt. Grumpypants, otherwise known as The Sarge, Sgt. G, the Grump, or Sgt. Grumpy. The precious boys, Motormouth- age 9, and Monkey- age 6. You can just call me....Mrs. Pants.

I am the bestest Army wife ever!

A little background: Sgt. G called to let me know that he got orders to go to a army training school (one that we have known that he would be going to in the next year or two, and one that will be essential to his continued promotions) He was stressed out because they were orders to go in February, and when he tried to cancel them because it wasn't enough notice, they moved him up to the class that started in 9 days. He went around and around until he ended up with the original school date of Feb 2. He'll be gone about 6 weeks. Add that stress to the stress he is under because he knows he isn't physically capable of completing the school at this point. His back and neck are really screwed up (because of the army.....) and he knows he wont be able to wear all the gear for the training excercises. He could handle the recruiter training school, but he really doesn't think he can handle the MP version, which is the one he would have to go to unless he officially changes jobs, which he looked into and can't do in time, and he just isn't one of those "I don't care if I flunk out" kind of guys. I KNOW all of this information going into the following conversation. Not all these statements came out of my mouth in 30 seconds, but they were the ONLY comments I made on the subject over a 24 hour period.

Sgt. G.: Couldn't change my school date, I am going in Feb.

Me: What? What the heck?.....Who is going to shovel the snow??? (no exageration, this was my first thought and reply) ......I am so going to lose my job.....crap. I really like my job.........you MADE me move back to this frozen tundra and now you are going to LEAVE ME here???? This SUCKS! .......And I don't know if your dog will still be here when you get back...(oh yeah, I threw a poor, defenseless, insanely cute puppy under the bus- figuratively, not literally)

Look at me, being extremely postive and supportive! I should get some sort of award for that.

Whoo Hoo

Many of you know the trials we have been through with Monkey, and how much he struggles with every day stuff and how far he has come in the past few years. Monkey has always had problems with certain public situations, but we have had the most trouble with what I refer to as "the big three" Those would be Going to the Doctor/Dentist, Getting a Haircut, and Shoe Shopping. when Monkey was two I figured out a basic set of guidelines that if you could manage to stick to, you and Monkey would get along great. Those guidelines were as follows: Don't look at him, talk to him, or touch him. Unfortunately, there aren't many situations where you can stick with those guidelines. It was impossible with "the big three" and so we all dreaded those trips. The first one he managed to overcome was shoe shopping. We were thrilled to be able to go to the shoe store, get his feet measured and try on shoes without the sales girl getting kicked in the face or leaving with a hysterically screaming child. The next to improve was the trips to the Doctor and Dentist. We have gone from crying/screaming the entire visit (including sitting in the waiting room) to being able to reason with him/ reward him for getting through the visits without throwing a fit. So the last was the haircuts. He was so adamant that he wasn't going to get one a couple months ago that I just buzzed him at home because I refused to deal with a public scene. He cried and hollered and struggled through the entire thing. So, in preparation of the impending haircut this time, I mentioned today that he was going to have to have one. He immediately said "no" (he is his father's son) but then asked me to do it in our bathroom again. Of course there wasn't time before school, so I promised him we would do it after school. As soon as he got home he grabbed the stool and headed into the bathroom. He didn't even want to play the Wii first (his reward for being good at school, which he was). He stood still and didn't complain once. I was really proud of him, this was a huge step for us. So yea for Monkey and his adapting to fit into our world, I wonder if any of us would work so hard to adapt into his?

The point is knucklehead, I care!

I felt horrible before I went to work, worse when I got there and barely coherent when I got home. G and I passed in the breezway, so I didn't say anything, and he didn't ask. Plus it is hard to have any sort to exchange with two barking dogs and an insanely cheerful Monkey. Monkey and I muddled through the morning and I managed to get him on the bus. I promptly drug myself and crawl into bed. I wake up to our canine home protection system being set off. Sgt. G has come home to find something he forgot this morning. No big deal until I hear some other guy talking to the dogs. Great, I can't remember what the kitchen looks like, but it's probably not pretty. G comes into the bedroom and realizes that I am sick- and look it. I tell him where the thing is he wants so he will quit tearing up the house. He tells me to just stay in bed. Thanks. I get up later and survey the kitchen. Sure enough, the remnants of Monkey's and my lunch are still out on the table, there are dishes stacked up in the sink and for some reason, a towel on the floor. (that would be Monkey, for some reason he likes to have one while he is eating breakfast; for spills??? and usually he steals the hand towel, but obviously couldn't find one so he drug a bath towel out) I call G to find out what was going on. "oh, it was just Miller. He doesn't care"Are all guys this clueless? I guess it is time for the talk about calling before bringing people home again. It's not just so I have time to kick the boyfriend out before you get here.

Mommy has a new "friend"

Me: hey, today mommy is going to a friends house by herself, and she is going to stay the night there, sort of like the sleep over you and Jay just had.

Motormouth: You are? I am going to miss you (awwww). Who is your friend?

Me: My friend Kathleen. She and I went to school together waaay back when we were your age, all the way through high school and we have been friends ever since.

Motormouth: You're going to Kevin's?

Me: No. Kathleen. Kath-a-leens.

Motormouth: okay (shrugs)

Me: No, I want you to understand that I am going to a girl's house, and her name is Kathleen.