Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Grinch on the shelf...

I wouldn't call myself the Grinch. If I ran into him at Starbucks, I'd foot the latte. I mean, we have a tree. It is decorated. I made the kids do it and it looks like the Grinch and I decorated it blindfolded, drunk, and left handed, but it is done.

I am fine with people and their holiday cheer. For the most part. Its like herpes... probably a good idea to let people know you have it but not so much
to share panties with.

Christmas sweaters are good. Saying HO HO HO instead of hello, strange but acceptable- barely.  Wear a Santa hat to Wal-Mart, you will probably be asked where the restrooms are more times than you would like, but that is your prerogative. Putting some antlers on your car is sure to prove you're a Christmas bad***.

And then there is The Elf on the Shelf. I am just not THAT kind of mom. I will jump on the couch with you. I will listen to you practice the same song on your violin 386 thousand times- there is bound to be a drink break, but it will still happen. I will watch every Home Alone with you,except 5 that one is stupid. I will throw a ball to you until I can't move my arm for the next week. But I will not buy a tiny little elf and have it do stupid things to prove that he is real. Stupid stuff happens all the time. For instance, I just found a turd in the shower. I could blame it on the elf, but we all know the kid with poor wiping skills just took a shower.

Anyway, I had a little run in with a lady yesterday. Of course the elf came up. I think that all the pics on Facebook are cute. The blog posts, all of it. I just am not willing to take the time. I will forget or loose it and then kids are crying and I am destroying the house trying to locate the miniature derelict and my patience is fried by 7 am. NOT WORTH IT..

Here is the scene:

The youngest boy, girl and I walk in. The lady immediately walks over to talk. I attract the crazies, people, it is like my bra has a magnet in it. She comes over and is talking about Santa. And then the conversation goes south.

Lady: What is your Elf's name?

Boy:  looks at her like she has just busted out of the looney bin.

Lady: Oh you should get an Elf. Blah a blah... gag me with a stick blah blah I am the most amazing mom-ish creature on the face of this earth and you should do everything like I do. I should write the ten mom commandments, gag gag blah.

Breathe.

Lady: Why don't you have an Elf of the Shelf?

Me: That little fella would hitch hike straight to hell because hanging out with Lucifer is less work.

Lady:  looks down at Cam and says "you want an Elf on the Shelf don't you?"

Broad has crossed the line. I am irritated, not willing to go to jail irritated, but seriously, toeing the line , much? So I am just keeping my mouth shut. barely.

Lady:  Seriously, that doll is life changing..

Me: So was Chuckie...

And I just walked away.

Seriously, lady. I had three kids before you had your first grown up tooth. Don't tell me what makes a good parent. The only people who can tell me that is Jesus and Child Protective Services. And if either of them tell me I need to get an Elf. I will walk through every neighborhood in the state of Missouri to track down your antler raped mini van and steal yours...

Friday, December 20, 2013

Fly on the wall: December

Karen's brainchild, my family. You are officially a fly on my wall...
Don't forget to check out all the other fabulous walls, I hear some of them bring food- or recipes at least...

Who we are...
Me- Fat Amy (Duncan)
R-A 15 year old teen girl.
K-An 11 year old girl
G-A 10 year old boy
Griff-7year old boy
Cam Diddy-5 year old boy
Carter-7 month old girl

We have been battling illnesses and ridiculous schedules so it may be a little lame...well, lame for my house...

We hosted Thanksgiving, it turned out fine. Except the hubs decided to put the turkey carcass in the garage fridge. Well, I wasn't privy to this information and found it a week later when I went to put a gallon of milk out there. Cam Diddy thought  there was a robber in the garage and brought a broom out to protect me.

Carter had her first ear infection. She didn't handle the antibiotics well. If you feel the need to know more about her crap crusade scroll down a little further. At the very least it will help out your diet.

R has a thing about bad friend choices. This extends to boyfriend choices. It may have been mentioned that a certain friend choice was a one way ticket to the Maury  Show.

The insurance company overturned their denial, so Carter is getting the RSV shots. A HUGE relief.

That being said, I took Carter out in public, real public- not an outside baseball game or hiding in a corner not fully being able to see a kid's game. I got to sit at a restaurant for G's 10th birthday. It felt so weird. The last time I have been in real public was in March before the whole hospital bedrest/preemie shenanigan began.

Carter was cleared by the Opthamologist, her few little issue from being a preemie cleared up on their own!

Cam told me a joke. He informed me that he was going to tell his Grandma (mil) but he was going to tell her it was my joke and see if she liked it first. And if she likes it he was going to tell her it was his, if not "well", and he shrugged shoulders.

Took Carter for a re-check on her ear, and turned out that the antibiotics didn't work and she had an ear infection in the other ear too. But the NP was shocked that she was ten weeks early because of how big she was. 14 pounds even... 10 pounds and 10 ounces bigger.

Carter started smacking her lips to blow a kiss and holding her arms out to be held. And accidentally threw a Ma in with her jabbering. 

Now if she could mix in a little roll over or sitting up...

R finally made a club volleyball team. After so many try outs and a couple of alternate positions she made a team. A team that ranked a lot higher than the others and that I didn't think she had a chance in uhem in making...

I have been trying to convince R that courtship and purity is what we believe in, it's not working. My goal is to keep her from getting knocked up, locked up or turnt up while she is under my roof. If anyone has any suggestions....

K is about to turn 12, somehow the kid lost count because the kid's attitude is like she is 16...

You can see the floor of my closet... It's been a while.

I have been spending lots of time in the boys bathroom steaming Carter, I never realized how nasty those boyd were. Seriously, it's like they squat off the sink to poop in the toilet. I am about 15 seconds from making them squat on the sink to measure and test projectory to figure out which nasty is doing it... Thank God for Clorox wipes.

My chiropractor asked about my mucous plug....

5 days til Christmas and 5% of my shopping is done... 

It snowed here, we live on the corner of a main road and a big subdivision, we get to see all the action. Sobriety tests, car searches and best of all cars sliding in the snow. So the kids and I came up with this game. It's called clean or dirty, the condition of their trousers after their slide...

Go visit the rest of the gals listed below, they won't disappoint....








Friday, December 6, 2013

You would think I would know by now...

           * Weak stomached individuals need to get your  S & G's elsewhere*

I have done this baby thing six times. You would think I would know by now...

Little Carter has an ear infection. Simple enough. Throw some antibiotics at the kid and its a day at the park. I am very allergic to penicillins, like Violet Beauregard looks anorexic compared to me just from touching it, allergic. That means that my kids surpass the easy peasy and go for the big dogs.

That is a game changer.

Last chance to walk away, people. Challenge accepted? It's your purse you're puking in...

Carter has a rachet stomach to begin with. The kid doesn't crap. I try to give her solids and she is purple faced for a week. Nurse her, same. Formula, same with a side of projectile vomiting. It's a real prize.

So now that you know her bowel cycle and the fact she is on antibiotics, lets reminise about what happened yesterday. Unfortunately, there were sequals today. We are up to a quadrequal- a new word, your welcome.

Yesterday she was fussy and I picked her up. I felt a weird squish on her back. You know *that* squish. Skin on skin with a little, uhem, extra.

The look of horrification upon my face scared Carter.

As she started to cry the contents of her diaper started to well up and spill out even more all over my arm and farther up her back. I took her upstairs to my bathroom and started the tub. I have a garden tub and a bad back. So I stripped down into my underwears and got in to hold her up in the water.

I have no clue what I was thinking. I had taken off her shirt but had missed a very vital thing, the diaper. When a diaper gets soaked it swells and  it explodes. Between the turds and the diaper gel, the bathtub drain clogs.

I am literally swimming in sewage.

I am trying to hold her up with one hand- since she is not quite a sitter (add an h and you are spot on) and scoop the crap-laced gel from the tub.

I have this thing. I laugh at the most inappropriate times. I can't help it. You hit your head and bleed all over, I laugh until I cry. I am laughing so hard I am crying, but the thought of sitting in a tub of shat with diaper beads makes me dry heeve. So it goes a little like this. Scoop. Scoop. Gag. Laugh. Wipe tear, hoping there has been no oversplash. Scoop. Gag. You get the point.

It was UGLY. And then Carter spit. And by spit, I mean fill a bucket with curdled breastmilk. I looked at her face. When I took off her shirt somehow I had smeared poop all over her cheek and on her lip. All I can say is, I am so glad it was her own...

I wipe her face and just lay her on a towel on the floor so I can clean the tub. Get it clean so we give this another go.

I put her in the tub, and get in. The water is running Cam, the 5 year old, is playing on my phone and sitting on my sink and kicking the cabinet below. The phone volume is turned all the way up. My bathroom has vaulted ceillings, so all sound travels. Carter is a preemie, and is over-stimulated very easily. All the sound was too much.

She started to cry. The more tears, the more poop. What does a 7 month old baby do when they are sitting in water? Yep. Turd-drums. Her "music" was everywhere. Her hair, my hair. Eyelashes, arm pits. Window sil, grout. All of it. Droplets of human feces and bathwater. Everywhere.

At this point I figured she was done. There couldn't possibly be more. I stood up with her and just about to get out and clean up the mess. I turned her around and said " What have you done little girl?" She smiled and put her hand in my mouth.

She put her muddy water hands in my mouth.

I lost it. There wasn't a dry heeve in the house.

So let's put this into perspective. Carter crapped up the water. Splashed it everywhere, put her crap-infected hand in my mouth. I puked, standing in the tub. I am stepping out of the tub and then I hear it. The ahh ahh that preceeds the choo. I turned as fast as I could and held that 13 pound turkey butt over the tub.

I will never be able to look at a super soaker the same way again. Same sound, different substance.

It went a little like this: ah ah choo shpaaah splat. aaah choo schplaaaah splat. aaah schoo plllt.

The plllt was a fart. Signifying the end of the war with Carty's intestines.

Mom- 0    Crap- more than I can count...