Would This Make Me a Bad Parent?

My last post was this. Which led to this comment:

Ouch!! I remember BFing and The Boy would get so frustrated from the lack of flow (I had supply issues)and he would bite down in protest. Now that he has teeth he uses my shoulder as a chew toy and almost always bites me if I'm holding him on my hip.

by Losing Brownies over here. Which made me want to respond with this:

That is when you grab a dog's chew toy stick it in his mouth and take a picture. Who knows, maybe he'll find the rubbery surface more appealing than your shoulder. No, I don't have any hints on how to break your child of his dog toy habit if he suddenly develops one. That is if you think taking a picture of your baby with a dogs chew toy in his mouth is as amusing as I do.

Now I need to go to a store and buy a chew toy for my son. I'd borrow one from my mom's dog, but I'm afraid that would be crossing the very thin line I am already straddling.

You Can Add Chew Toy To My Resume

I can honestly say that this was not one of the things that I had envisioned when I dreamed about my future children. Visions of perfect dinners and apple pies, kissing my husband as he walked through the door after work, children dressed in their Sunday best, shoes shined, gurgling baby on hip. There was no picture of breastfeeding. Stick a bottle in that kids mouth.

Well, I dislike cleaning and cooking. So more often then not my house is in disarray and dinner is most definitely not on the table when my husband enters our lot on the block. (truth, thanks to the meal plan it is more often now) My children look like the street urchins from Oliver Twist. My baby doesn't drink from a bottle. Why pay for it when you can get it from the "cow" for free? (Yes, I referred to myself as a cow. I feel like a human milk dispenser most days. It not an insult, it just a really true visual, so simmer down.) I'm cheap and gosh darn it formula is damn expensive. I pay for disposable diapers at the price of an arm and a leg, no way in heck I'm paying for a fluid at that high price when I can provide it myself.

So it's going good. No thrush, L is gaining well now that his tongue had been clipped. We are both happy. We introduced him to rice cereal at his new pediatricians request this week. Then bam suddenly L is fussy. He is sticking his fingers in his mouth while he's nursing. I try to pull his hand out as he's getting frustrated at not getting anything to eat. Finally I give in and let him figure it out on his own. Can't get milk if you have no latch due to those fingers. Next thing I know the little bugger adorable baby bites down! Holy friggen canole! What the bloody hell? That hurts kid! Out of all the roles in my life I never thought I would ever be a human chew toy. Where ever that tooth is, it better come out fast, otherwise this kid is going to starve.

I Am So English?

According to my husband I'm English. Okay, well, yes, my ancestors are from England. Well, most of them. However, some are from the Ukraine and others from Holland. Seemingly though, regardless of my obvious mutt pedigree I belong with the English. This is one of the reasons. I like teapots. I have a fascination for teapots. I don't care for the nice English dishes. I do have a set from my Grams. However, if I could have a collection other than my cats I would collect teapots.

This all came about when we went to Chapters to return my Kobo e-reader. Love it, the screen just pooped out. Apparently a common known problem. I got a violet one in return to replace the old one. I was tickled. Anyways, while waiting I was perusing the closer aisles and found this:

I just had to show it to my husband. I would have bought it right then and there if I knew my children wouldn't touch one inch of it. I had to pass it by, and that is when my husband looked at me and said, " You are so English". I asked what that was supposed to mean. Well here is his criteria for coming to such a conclusion.

* Genetics
* Love teapots
* Earl Gray tea (I prefer the flavoured stuff thank you)
* I occasionally talk with an English accent (I seriously don't do it on purpose it just happens)
* effingpot.com has a slew of words I use. Like arse, beastly, bender, blatant, bloody (I say, "oh bloody hell" a lot), botch, box your ears (bahaha, I heard this a lot as a kid),bugger ("oh bugger", "bugger off"), bum (I bum around in my jammas), Cheeky (cheeky monkey), easy peasy. Crikey! The more I read the more I'm convinced my husband is right.
* I enjoy scones and would choose that over muffins anyday
* I could eat porridge everyday with a bit of fruit
* I could live on potatoes and other vegetables (in fact, I don't consider potatoes a vegetable, but a whole food group onto itself)
* I really like yorkshire pudding. (unfortunately I use the packaged kind, not as good I hear)
* I don't feel a meal is a meal without a plate of bread and butter (I don't normally do that as my kids will eat that and not their supper. My Grams always has it out at lunch and supper)
* I was ecstatic to meet Prince Charles and shake his hand when I was 18.
* I remember seeing Prince Charles and Princess Dianna get married when I was 4 years old
* I also made sure to post this on the eve of Prince Williams and Kate Middleton's nuptials

So there is his crude list of why I am English. Yes, I did add some as I began to think of my quirks. So am I truly English?

(google images)

Early Morning Mind Wanderers April 28 2011

Watching

Waiting

A holding pattern for you

I need you

Healthy

and safe in my arms

Bucking

Screaming

this piece of me that is miserable

Punching

Fighting

to be able to be here for you

Pushing

myself to the edge

Watching

my children

to stay grounded

Reminding

Reassuring

myself it will be my time soon.

Halt! I Have Gravy And I Know How To Use It!

Happy Belated Easter All!

(google images)

We did our Easter Egg Hunting on Good Friday. The kids thoroughly enjoyed their hunt. E was awesome. His eyes lit up and he exclaimed, "They are on the windowsill! They are everywhere!" It was like Christmas morning all over again. They spent the rest of the morning hopping around like bunnies, hiding their mega blocks and using the bucket to find them again. I LOVE watching them utilize their imaginations. I really enjoy watching the toddlers communicate. Half the time I have no clue what on earth they are saying, yet, they move in perfect harmony. C helped them collect their bunny "loot", along with his own. L got one little teething toy. He has plenty of time for chocolate later on.

Then came the much needed nap before heading off to my parents house for Easter dinner.

We were late as usual. I'm always behind now. No matter what I do, I'm at least five minutes late. Once I'm no longer nursing this will change. For now, don't count on me to show up anywhere at the time I need to. For doctor appointments I'm there at least 10-15 minutes early, if I'm not, I'm late. Not just by five minutes either. More like half an hour late.

As we enter my parents humble abode the place is buzzing with my sisters four children, add on my three mobile children and we have an instant melee. Five adults in one kitchen is also melee. I have discovered that I can make anything I want to if I follow my mothers directions. (Why I am following the advice of a woman who cannot cook I don't know.) After her instructions I now know how to make an explosive weapon out of gravy.

Here are the directions if you want a little more action on Easter:

Take this thing:

(google images)

and fill 1/4 of that with this stuff:

then add hot gravy drippings to that, (bring it up to 3/4 full) and add 1tbs of sourcream.

Here comes the fun part, put on the lid shake it until the lid pops off and douses your whole kitchen in clumpy flour, that tablespoon of sour cream and a whole lot of greasy turkey drippings.

Oh, and if that wasn't enough, I almost shot the bones of the turkey across the room with my fat ass.

After that I promptly walked out of the kitchen as they howled with laughter at me. My husband made the gravy.

The kitchen is just dangerous with me in it. Especially when I blindly follow my mother's instructions on how to make gravy.

Welcome. My Chaotic, Sleep Deprived Status

The Monster (my children) descend upon the Earth (me). Wound up to take on anything in it's path.

I prepare my defenses. Games. Story time. Crafts. Car rides. Preschool. Colouring. Music videos and dancing.

Alas, it's no use. My plans mean nothing. The Monster (my children) leave clothing, half eaten sandwiches, torn pages, fingerprints, screaming babies, et cetera in their wake. The Earth (me) is left defenseless praying for salvation (bedtime)

The Universe is Beginning to Show Signs of Remorse

These are the first signs that the Universe is feeling guilty for kicking my butt with disease:(I am now recovering from Bronchitis, and in LOVE with everything)

I LOVE Penicillin! I LOVE doctors that come to your home when you are just too sick to drive yourself to the doctor. I LOVE husbands that come home from work to take care of your children because you are too sick to take care of them. I LOVE Mommy's and Grandma's who come over the next day to watch the kids so you can get some more sleep. I LOVE Mommy's and Grandma's who also use that time to clean up your downstairs. (I apologize but my animal children tore it apart the next day)

This is another sign that the Universe is feeling a sense of remorse:

The same day I got my bronchial diagnosis I received The Versatile Blogger Award from Debra over at Writing With Debra. I feel amazingly honoured. I have now received two blog awards. People are enjoying my blog and that makes me really happy. Also I have now had over 1,000 page visits. Thank you Universe for the very nice start. You are well on your way to my forgiveness.



7 Things About Me:

1. I love looking at architecture. The old buildings of the city fascinate me the most. I once wanted to be an architect however, it requires a lot of math.

2. I am horrible at math. I had a tutor for Statistics and I still failed the exam.

3. I really enjoy watching the History channel. My father and I have that in common.

4. Al Jolson, John Wayne, and Robin Williams remind me of my Papa.

5. My Papa and Grandmother helped form my opinion of families and our need for them in our lives. My parents built on that foundation. I am trying to instill that in my own family.

6. One of my favorite things about my children is when they laugh. A full out belly laugh. Their laughs are contagious. When I am in the midst of their laugh it's like the world stops and I know what happy feels like.

7. Christmas time is my most favorite time of the year. 1) Our family comes together and enjoy each others company 2) Seeing my children's faces on Christmas morning 3) Knowing God made this all possible.

Let's Pass this honour along:

1. Marianna Annadanna @ Snappy Surprise

2. Kat Lady and the Tramp

3. Live Love Learn

4. O.M.I.T onemomentintime

5. radical ramblings and thoughts of a southern girl

6. Shiny Happy World

7.Flight Platform Living

Pink, Movie and A Review

The colour pink. Pink means many things. "Shades of deep pink, such as magenta, are effective in neutralizing disorder and violence." (taken from linked site) Is this the reason why Pepto-Bismal is that nasty pink colour? So let me get this straight. It is not the medication in it. It is the colour that neutralizes the disorder and violence of our intestinal tract? Good to know. I guess I'm also one step ahead as my cell phone and my laptop are both pink and I am just tickled and relaxed to the point of actually falling asleep. Let's not forget my Sansa. That little mp3 player is pink and I cannot bare to run with out it.

Okay, so why am I talking about pink? Because I am forced to admit that I am a bit of a girlie girl. This is a side of myself that I have been fighting against since I was a wee one. I don't know why, but if it's trendy I can't stand it. Maybe because secretly I want to be in the midst of the trend, but know it goes against everything I stand for. Not quite sure what that is yet, but I'm standing for it anyways.

I like the colour pink because it is bright and is what I imagine happy would look like if happy was a colour. Pink makes me feel younger, softer, less jaded. It takes me to a place of trees and fields of mustard seeds that go on for miles. The wind passing through, making waves that you want to run through and escape all the bad in everything. Watching musicals brings me the same feeling. I love music. I wanted to be a singer when I grew up. Then I grew up. However, certain songs and musicals like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang bring back the memories of singing for hours in my basement in front of my imaginary audience. (I have terrible stage fright. I shake so much I look like I'm having a seizure). I love purses and secretly have a passion for shoes. I'm also practical, which is why my shoe passion is a secret and I don't indulge. Yesterday I spent $36.80 CDN on a movie because of the pink factor. Bad me. I am surprisingly not ashamed and I don't feel guilty. I know I should.

The Movie

Sharpay's Fabulous Adventure. I wasn't one for the High School Musical movies after the first one. However, Ashley Tisdale's representation of Sharpay left me conflicted. I wanted to hate the mean, selfish girl. Yet, I couldn't help but like her at the same time. Then this movie came out. I had absolutely no intentions of buying it. No one in my home is in this age group. Well, my eldest, although he's not "into" musicals or girly movies. I wished it would have gone to the Disney Channel first. Then I read this review by Cindy at The Mom Maven. It was a pretty decent review. Later that night we went to the store and while I was waiting for Hubby to check out some electronics I checked out the movie aisle. That is when I saw it. Angels sang. I swear really they did. The price had me choked. But it had a pink clutch purse I reasoned. I sheepishly asked hubby if it was cool if I purchased the movie for the clutch purse. (I don't need his permission persay, but communicating on finances/purchases and remaining on the same page is important in our marriage)

(reason for paying so much for a movie)


After watching the movie three times (thank you my toddlers), I have to say that I agree withThe Mom Maven and her review. I must add that the one thing I noticed with this movie is it had a plot line all the way through. I have noticed the last few movies from Disney (HSM 2, Camp Rock) just threw in well known players and had little else. I felt like they took the time with Sharpay's character and the supporting cast to make it a really good storyline right until the end. Very enjoyable and I like Sharpay and Ashley Tisdale even more than I did before. Also, as a Canadian I LOVED seeing Pat Mastroianni (Joey Jeremiah on Degrassi) make an appearance. Handsome as ever. Does the guy age? I say get this movie, keep the clutch for your adult self and DON'T feel ashamed that you did so. I'm not!

(Disclaimer: These are my own views, I paid for this product of my own accord and have not been asked to review nor received anything in return for my review)

The Universe Owes Me

(credit)


Yeah, I'm sick as a dog. No, not just runny nose, run down sick. I have no voice! I have four children, how the heck am I going to get them to do as I wish without yelling at them? Yes, I am a yeller. I try not to be, however, I cannot be in four places at once and I don't have access to a telecom system or walkie talkie so yelling works. That and they are L.O.U.D! I have major headaches by the time bedtime comes.

This house has been a hotbed of sick since my husband left out of Province and my eldest returned from an FTX. I blame both my eldest son and my daughter. She was sick the week prior to all this, and then my eldest came home with who knows what. The combination came down upon us with a wrath upon which I have never experienced before. I however, seemed to have got the worst of it. I am rarely sick, how the heck did that happen? That and I'm the one that has to take care of this brood, how dare the Universe infect me.

So, of course I figure the Universe owes me. I'm not sure what just yet. I guess I'll let everyone know when I come across what I really want and can give credit to the Universe when I get it. For now I am crabby and my throat feels like a thousand knives are trying to escape from the inside out. So, I'll post when I can. For now I'm using this time to catch up on all the blogs I follow. There is a lot.

Then My Uterus Fell Out

No, I won't put pictures of my uterus up. C'mon, give me more credit than that. I'm about the sarcastic funny factor not the make my readers puke factor. If you are a man though, that title would have killed ya, and I simply don't care as you helped make this happen. Well, not you personally for me. But I'm not counting you out for anyone else that you decided to impregnate multiple times.

For me, my Uterus was holding up just fine. Sure it wasn't as strong as it was in my younger years. But it did supply a beautiful home for three beautiful children. Then, my fourth. I think I was supposed to ask my Uterus permission before forcing it to house a foreign growing object. Why else would it decide to turn against me? But I didn't. After L joined us in the world and things down below started to heal and go back to their proper places, my Uterus decided it was time to up and drop out. Um, excuse me. I'm only 33 years old (gasp I revealed my age, life as we know it is over), my body isn't supposed to start failing me for another ten to fifteen years. You know, somewhere around the time of menopause. Darn it, did no one give my body this memo!

So how on earth do I know my Uterus fell out? I'm a woman and cancer (the *insert preferred expletive here*) runs in my family, I need to be aware of any change in, on and around my body. So of course I checked out with a mirror to see how things were healing. That and my kid was 11lbs 4oz at birth, all natural, no pain medication, I had to see the "damage". There was damage alright, there was a bulge where a bulge should not have been. To the computer! I knew what I was looking for as I had heard of it before. The suggestion to help is Kegels. Ladies, if you haven't done kegels before it probably won't do a lick of shit after the damage has been done.

Anyways, when I finally got in to see a doctor (3 months after my son was born), the doctor confirmed what I thought. I have a Prolapsed Uterus. It appears minor, although we are still to keep an eye on it. And until my doctor tells me my Uterus is only going to hit the floor and start doing a jig, I will continue deluding myself with Kegels.

(I lied. He was simply too cute not to post. You can find this cutie and other disturbing cuties at I Heart Guts)

I am Here.

Marks the spot. What spot? Crap I don't even know where here is. What I know is my past. Or what I can remember of it. I don't generally like to do the playback thing anymore. Got tired of blaming my parents for all my bullshit of today a long time ago. Currently I blame, well no one. Nah, that's a lie. I blame my kids for my current memory loss and my husband for pretty much everything else. Hey why not, I clean up crap for a living. I'm a cook, a waitress, a nurse, a referee. Oh no sorry, that last one is wrong. I hung up that shirt yesterday and told them just to scream for me if there was blood.

Okay, back to where I am. I am in a room with four walls. I occasionally get out to pull a child out from the quicksand I call a garden. My super power is producing milk, while praying my boobs don't hang to my knees by the time this fourth child is drinking regular milk like everyone else around here. Nursing and I have a love/hate relationship. I like nursing but wish I could pull off these things and pass them on to hubby for a while. This way I can have my body to myself without children hanging off of me in one form or another. I love my children, however, I used my body to house these beautiful creatures for nine months I am pretty sure I'm due for some time by myself. With my own body. Without someone wanting something from it.

Nevertheless I am always here. Inside myself, shutting the rest of the world out. Hiding behind my children, my husband, my job. It's easy to live here. Away from myself. How am I away from myself if I'm always with myself? Because I'm not really with myself. I have four children buzzing around me all day long. I have laundry that is mountainous. So many toys that I am beginning to think they multiply all on their own. I am so busy cleaning and entertaining my children there is not much time for anything else. I cannot help thinking though as my eldest continues to grow, age and mature enter high school in the fall, that my days of being consumed by children are quickly ending. I am filled with fear that I will no longer have a purpose once the last child leaves. Sure I'll still be a wife and I'll hopefully still have a job, but then what? Yes, I will always be a mother. However, there will be no poopy bums to clean, unless God forbid I have to clean my husbands butt. No snotty noses to clean. No children to pull out of swampy garden. No children to drag screaming into the house for nap time. No sweet smiles and childish belly laughs. I'll have all that once filled up time for just me.

People will think I'm nuts for thinking about this and wonder Why I don't enjoy my chaos filled time now? The thing is I do enjoy my chaos filled life I just don't want to be sitting here in 20 years thinking my life is over. I want a plan. I want an identity. I want to be more than just a wife and a mother. Not at the expense of my family of course. I AM blessed. I just don't want to be this snarky old woman with the million cat statues, wondering how I let myself become so consumed being a mother and a wife that I lost myself.

Testing. Testing. Oops, It's All Gone.

In my tummy that is!!! I know I keep complaining about my weight, but I am having this crazy need to bake lately. Probably because I'm spending so much on snack food from the stores, and I like my money in my pocket not someone else's. That and I've been terribly depressed from being couped up in the house with a newborn and two toddlers all winter. So when we experienced two deaths in one week in our family, it was either bake or go off the deep end. Since I do eat to deal with emotions anyways, I figured I'd kill my liver as a form of "up yours life" and bake. I grabbed the kids, twisted their arms and baked a cake from the box. What? I'm no Martha Stewart and don't pretend to be. I use the box.

Then I took a trip to the computer while the cake baked and went to a site I've been watching for a while. It is sweetastic. It is Bakerella

After the cake was done we left it out for a while to cool. Once cooled we followed the instructions here. After a lot of mess and a lot of time (not a job for two toddlers unless you want more cake on the floor than on the wax lined pan), we ended up with these beauts.

cake pops pt. 1

Cake pops/ cake balls pt.2 with sprinkles and fun stuff.


Word of advice, DON'T USE STRAWS instead of the sticks they suggest. The cake balls are way too heavy. I discovered this the hard way. I also found that this dessert is best made WITHOUT the toddlers. They still get to lick the bowl and eat the end result so they are happy with our new no bake arrangement.

Since this first try at Cake Pops (which had rave reviews I might add), I have just made cake balls. I have not perfected the chocolate melt over top, but I'm not too worried yet. I have made peanut butter cake pops which turned out just delish. (They didn't last one day) Tonight I even attempted cake balls with cherries in the middle. I don't like how they turned out. However, my Dad was the inspiration so IF he likes them I'll make them again.

Early Morning Mind Wanderers April 6 2011

I should go to bed.

I will myself

like a marionette.

strings moving one arm

one leg

at a time.

I am wooden

stiff

just like my heart without you.

For The LOVE Of All Things Silly

I love being silly. Probably not as much as when I was younger, mostly due to the fact that I have four kids and am REQUIRED by society to be mature. I am not. Sorry to disappoint folks. I do my fair share of goofing off and I enjoy it. I mean come on, I blogged about gas how mature can I realistically be? I'm mature enough to keep myself out of jail, kids from being taken from me by CFS, and my bills paid. Other than that, forget it!!! Work? I enjoy my work, I get to goof off all the time. The rest falls in line with the "Kids from being taken from CFS" part of it.

So anyhoo, being able to do things with the most amount of silliness and randomly, brings me great orgasmic joy. Yes, orgasmic joy. Wouldn't be so great if it wasn't, now would it?

Now I follow a wonderful place of well I'm not even sure what to call it. It can be unsettling at first, especially if you've left your sense of humor at right click. Although, this place can be viewed as those train wrecks that you just can't look away from. You get sucked into this vortex of insane thought and randomness. When you realize you are in said vortex it's simply too late. You cannot escape and you are in some sick twisted love triangle. You, your significant other and The Bloggess. Although I have to say it's better than the sick twisted love triangle I'm already in with my husband and Diggnation (That is for another post.)

I also follow The Bloggess on Twitter. Only makes sense if I follow her blog don't it? And seriously almost crapped my pants when I saw that she is following me back! Me?!?! I am not worthy. (BTW she has a picture of Wil Wheaton collating papers. No shit! I was on twitter the day she made that happen.) See why I'm not worthy of her followage?

Okay, now down to my silly and why I'm babbling about some woman with a blog. On Twitter The Bloggess stated that her husband went to the hospital due to an infection and she needed some cheering up. Her Twollowers came through. Of course how could I deny such a simple request. What was the request? A picture with you and twine of course! Here's mine :

BTW I am also blaming this one on the baby :D

Pass The Gas!!

Oh my goodness!! I am having a terrible go of it since my husband flew out of province for a funeral. I am exceedingly excited that he has made his trip short and will only be gone for one week. However, today, I'm a mess and just want him here. Anyways, my kids sure know how to make funny out of thin air.

You can always rely on a conversation to do two things, end up in a discussion about poop or gas. Deny it if you will, but we are children forever when it comes to these two things. My four year old is currently in love with discussing poop. He's always "pooping" on his 13 year old brothers head. A says she's "poot" even when all she did was pee. And the girl loves her whoopie cushion which only leads us to of course the topic of gas.

In this house, the stinkiest gasser of us all is the baby. So of course whenever one of the kids let 'er rip, they blame it on L. I love it. Even today when my eldest clearly sent a stinker our way, my daughter pointed her finger at baby L and said, "Baby, fart. Hahaha". I tried to place blame where blame was due but she wouldn't have it.

Dinner table oops are also passed on to baby L. And why not? The kid cannot speak, just squawks and giggles and well stinks up the house when he legitimately passes gas or "poots". We try not to laugh and act like "civilized" people, however, it doesn't work so well.

So in all my crabby misery today, my one ray of sunshine just happens to be the conversations we all end up having. Poop and gas. So, I say if you really need a quick pick me up or embarrassed by your own gassy "oops" pass the gas and blame somebody else. In our case it's baby L.

The Naked Lemur!

A.k.a The Peanut Gallery, A.k.a E, and formerly known as Meltdown Charlie. Now, I did not name him "The Naked Lemur", well maybe I did, sort of.

Today my beautiful four year old came tearing into my living room full of life and smiles and laughter. He looks at me, raises his arms straight up into the air and bursts out with "I am a Naked Lemur! Lemur's are naked because they don't need clothes. Right mom." This wasn't really a question, but more of a statement of fact. Who was I to argue. I couldn't. Lemurs don't wear clothes, plain and simple. All day long he ran around my home with reckless abandon. Taking the time to pick on his sister of course. He is much like my brother-in-law in that manner. Both of them are not satisfied unless they are satisfied with how much they have bugged the crap out of a person. They truly do take pleasure in seeing how much they have annoyed a person and make them squirm. (He practices daily on his 13 year old brother) Good thing this is done in fun and not to outright hurt someone. Well in E's case it is. He's four, he doesn't understand his super powers yet.

He is my funny kid as you can tell. His logic has us in stitches from sun up to sun down. He loves pea pods because they shoot zombies (thank you zombie plants). Logic says he should be terrified of zombies, but he talks about them constantly. Zombie's are not allowed at preschool. His knock knock jokes make no sense but are absolutely funny because he finds them hilarious. He falls apart laughing as he reveals the punchline. (how could you not crack up at such cuteness?) My husband keeps saying he'll be a great politician as he already tries to reason like one. Not only that, you say something, he'll look at you and then change the subject. Yep, I have to agree with my husband on the politician thing.

He has quite the temper though. He knows what he wants and is not afraid to let you know. He has been known to clear heights envious of a basketball star in his fits of defiance. He even boxed the door one day. I could only laugh, and then say that punching things is not an appropriate way of dealing with his anger and he was still going to bed.

The best part about my Naked Lemur is that he loves his brothers and sister with all his heart. He has a kind and compassionate heart. He puts other people first. He misses his family dearly whenever they are away for too long. He gives bear sized hugs to his sister when we pick him up from preschool. You would swear they hadn't seen each other in years. He can hold his baby brothers attention for minutes at a time. Getting him to smile, coo and giggle. And he loves to do it. He adores helping out. I know it won't last long, so I'm enjoying it while I can.

I'm happy he is happy being The Naked Lemur. I'm also glad that being naked for him is having no clothes on except his underwear.

Everything Tastes Better...

I was so jealous of wine drinkers and their fancy glasses. Wine, especially red wine has it out for me. Then my hubby introduced me to drinking orange juice out of a wine glass on our 5th Anniversary get away weekend. Now, when I'm feeling more like a sweat pant wearing mom than a sophisticated woman I pull out my wine glass and put whatever beverage I desire in it. It makes me feel sexy, and older. Sophisticated. It makes me feel everything that is NOT related to being a mom and a wife. Even if it's nothing more than a glass of water.

Yes, it is true. Everything tastes better when you drink it from a wine glass.

Slave To The Pump

No, not the breast pump. Although, there is a chance of that in the near future as well. I digress though, I am referring to this pump:

(Google Image)

I'm completely irritable lately. I am experiencing PMS without actual PMS. The only good thing about being a portable milk truck is that I get to avoid having a period for the entire time. Guys, in case you don't know, this means you don't have to wait to have sex. Oh wait, yes you do. To be in this situation the woman needs to be nursing which means your significant other is just too tired to put out. Oh well, it's great for us :D

Anyways, I've got bitch down pact these past few days and my road rage self is worse than usual. So I have to run to the store for bread, I also need gas. Logic says go get gas then go get the bread. Apparently I wasn't the only one who needed gas. There are 24 pumps and they were all being used and there were still lines of vehicles. Gaahh!!! I hate black gold!!! No, there is no way I'm going to sit here in line in my cranky state waiting to fill my gas tank. I drive off, headed to the store and then drive around that parking lot because I changed my mind again. I swear I looked like I had one too many and had no clue where I was going. (The latter part is very correct). I ended up going to another store because I needed a pregnancy test. (negatory, Thank Goodness, 4 is my limit. Still no clue why I'm so damn sick)

An hour later I drove to another station and the same thing. Only four pumps, but still. Even the next station was lined. Seriously, what is going on here? I just spent time weaving in and out of lanes of drivers who drive worse than a geriatric on a scooter. I don't want to be even more frustrated sitting in a line. I want what I want damn it!! There needs to be a better solution. We pay out the nose for this stuff, we hate it. We don't hate it enough though as we are still here like cattle in line waiting. I want a hybrid, but those darn things are expensive. Not a lot of garages can actually work on those things either. I would love a smart car, but I have too many children. Transit Tom? Yeah, not even an option in this city. People are just as much a&&holes on public transit as they are driving their vehicles on the road. Only difference, I don't have to sit next to some dude with bad body odor. Yummy, bus stink.

So what can we do? We have nations fighting over this crap. There has to be an alternative. A cheaper one. Earth friendlier one. One that doesn't rape my bank account or need me to stand outside in the freezing weather with four children praying they don't make me jump under the bus as it comes to a complete stop. I'm almost willing to try anything. People are smart and ingenious, so where are my Jetson's wheels? It IS 2011 after all.