"I know it's 11:30 at night but I only have one more question" (and it's a doozy) says 10 year old son with more charm than whoever is the "most charming man" according to US weekly.

So we have been encountering questions.  With 3 children, questions come at us a mile a minute but lately I've actually been paying attention.  Not that I don't usually pay attention.  But "Mom, do we have any juice?" or "Mom, where are my underwear?"  are just not real questions anymore.  It's background music.


So a few questions Mr. Handsome and I have fielded in the last few days:

1.  "Mom, when are you going to get paid?"

2.  "How do boats catch on fire? They are on water."

3.  "Hey Mom?  When do you think you might have some money?"

4.  "Don't you think a fast skin swim suit might hurt my crotch?"

5.  " Mom. What's a condom?"

Uh, I don't know?  Might be the answer to ALL of the questions.  However, I do know what a condom is.  Mr. Handsome busted one out to answer this question ( and if you have been following for a year or so, we don't need these so yes, a new question is in the arena.)

6. "Mr. Handsome, why do you have condoms?"

Kidding, I was thrilled he had one and we did show it to Q and then made Ladycakes look at it, actually I threw it at her and she freaked out.  Then, we talked about it.  This is where I am....this is where I am.  Luckily, I kept my maturity in check and didn't make a dirty balloon animal out of the condom.  Mr.  Handsome and I need to talk......... :)

Not my proudest moment.

So the littlest and I went out for a snow shoe... and some sledding.   Took the new puppy and snowshoes and a sled and a mom who was questioning her decisions the minute she stepped out the door.  But that's what Moms do...

Took to the path and listened to Elvis bitch about walking to the sledding hill.  "It's too far."  "I'm so tired."  "I can't go anymore"  yadda, yadda yadda.

So we walked with puppy.  It was stressful with all of the puppiness and 5 year oldness.  But we arrived here, ready to sled.  Sled we will.

Elvis hiked this bad boy-self and sent his shit down like no other.  Run #1 AWESOME!  It was fast, furious and crazy epic.  Standing at the top of this hill, I was in awe.  Mr. Handsome was on his way over with Ladycakes, I called on the cell and asked him to bring Elvis' s helmet.  This hill is epic, he needs a helmet.

As Mr. Handsome and Ladycakes approached, Elvis wanted to take run #2.  He was ready.  On his game.  I mentioned before pushing him down the hill, "Bail if you need to.."  *note to self 5 year olds don't know what" bail if you need to" means..I SUCK.

Fencing consists of barbed wire and re-bar posts.  The blood you see, my child's.

He wasn't wearing a helmet.  We couldn't wait the 5 minutes for Dad to arrive.  He slammed into the above fence.  Luckily, he hit the side of his head not his face.  He's fine.  He has 5 staples in his head and will be just fine.

I'm  a wreck.  Mother of the Year, I'm out of the running.  I'm so proud of my brave little man but question my own decisions.  He still trusts me and for that I wonder if perhaps there wasn't a brain injury.

I love him.  I'm sorry.  I'll do better.  I promise.

Another VD (Valentine's Day) comes and goes. And I feel great.

I remember when Valentine's Day was important to me (college).  I waited for it with great anticipation.  I wondered what I would "get" for Valentine's Day.  I hated Valentine's Day.

It's a weird holiday.  I am a romantic.  But not really.  I think I might be a little to practical for romance.  I kind of feel like you should be romantic all year round.  But that's cliche.  I do not practice what I preach because life takes over.  And since when have parent/teacher conferences been romantic.   The last time I took my car to be repaired, hardly romantic.  Scooping the kitty litter.  not romantic.

I love watching my kids discover love.  Crush like love.  But a little love none the less.  I love watching my kids celebrate their friends.  Loving their friends.

Happy Valentine's Day.  However you celebrate, with whomever you celebrate.  I love love.






Add "Eternal Flame" by The Bangles to my Life Soundtrack.

It's a weird cloud. And, it's gross.

Q decided to be the one to talk in the car today.  Didn't ask me to shut Ernie D down, Q allowed a little background music.  I think it was Pink singing "Raise Your Glass" playing on Radio Disney.  I LOVE PINK and I love that song.  But on Radio Disney.  Hhhhmmmm.  But again, I digress.


So Q had a revelation at school today.  Thank God (wait not thanking for the revelation) my kids go to school.  Clearly they are getting all sorts of shit out of it.  And ladies and gentleman, it is not just the 3R's.  Which again, 3R's (Reading, yes, Writing, uh no,  and Arithmetic, totally no in the "R" arena!)  Again....sorry.

Revelations and not of the religious kind.  Q experienced something we have ALL experienced.  My experience involves an airplane.  Oh yea baby.  Q was on the playground.  Doing what 4th graders do.  Acting like dorks.  Just kidding.  Playing football, picking their noses, acting cool around the cute girls and then crying when they don't get their way.  An adorable bunch.

Q walked through a fart.  It was a first for him.  In his words.....

Q:  "Hey, you know how people fart just randomly."

Me: "Yes, that is kind of how it happens."

Q: " Well, today when I was on the playground, someone must have farted."

Me: " Really?"

Q: "Yes, because I was out there and I walked through something that smelled disgusting.  It was a fart cloud."

Me: "Right on, so you had a good day?"

Let's go ahead and add "Raise your Glass " by Pink to my life soundtrack because....why wouldn't I?

It's like baby, baby, baby whoa...... and then I buyed some stuff.

While driving to pick up the big kids from swimming, Elvis asked me to turn off the radio.  No more Radio Disney, as much as we love Ernie D, enough already.  He had some stuff to talk about.  He's become quite the talker, although not at school according to the information we got at yesterday's parent/teacher conference.  But, I digress.

The Scholastic Book Fair coincides with Parent/Teacher Conferences at our school.  At your school too, I imagine.  The same people that put toys in the grocery store and candy at the check-out, schedule the Scholastic Book Fair during Parent/Teacher conferences.  Yes, we use it as a bribe.  We are no better than the other parents at our school.    Elvis is super in to the Book Fair, first experience with retail shopping while being educated.  It's like Heaven for Elvis, he's a shopper.

A lot of the kids bring "their own money" to shop the Book Fair during recess, yea right "their own money!"  Elvis got to experience two of his classmates acting as consumers.  Both girls, shoppin' away.  Buyin' shit.

So Elvis says to me while we are driving in the car, " Itzel and Jessica buyed stuff at the Book Fair today.  They buyed posters with their own money.  We got to see what they buyed in class."

I say to Elvis, "What did they buy?"

Elvis says, "Well Jessica buyed a poster of a horse.  But Itzel, she buyed a poster of Justin Beaver."

I responded, "Wow, She BOUGHT a poster of Justin BEIBER?"

Elvis quickly replied in a very judgemental tone, " Yea!  Can you believe she buyed Justin Beaver?  I mean really?"

Whoa.  Justin Beaver has a contract with Scholastic.  That kid is rich.  I just wish the poster was actually a beaver with Justin's stupid ass hair.  I would have totally buyed that too.

Guess my date night with Elvis to see Justin Beiber's new movie IN 3D!  is a bust.  He is so not boughting that.

Stuck. Like a Stick in the Mud. Stuck.

I've got nothing.  I have so much.  I should be writing.  Yet I can't.  The ideas swim.. Back and forth, Back and forth.  None are worthy, funny, smart.  It just seems like day to day.

A swift kick in the ass is necessary.  A jolt, a pinch, a punch something to get me off my current track.  It's dull and boring and repetitive and blah, blah, blah, blah.

Nothing changes, everything stays the same.  I could live my life in my sleep.  Don't ask me to tell you about it but it goes like this....

1.  Alarm rings. slippers on, sweatshirt on.
2.  Awaken children.
3.  Trip over dogs waiting on children.
4.  Dogs outside, lights on.  TV set to PBS kids.
5.  Oldest roused.  "What do you want for breakfast?"  waiting, waiting, waiting.
6. Begin preparing lunch, prior to preparing breakfast.  "What do you want for breakfast?"  waiting, waiting, waiting.
7.  Continue preparing lunch. Feed dogs.  Suggest items for breakfast.  Waiting, waiting, waiting.
8.  7:25 a.m.  "Guys, your breakfast is happening, whether you like it or not."  Breakfast is served.
9. 7:30 a.m Word Girl begins.  Love Word Girl.

10.  7:39 a.m "Boys, go get dressed."  I follow to monitor dressing of boys.  Brushing of boy's teeth, shutting off of lights in boy's rooms.  General maintenance.
11.  7:52  "Get your boots on."  "Get your coat on."  "Where's your backpack?"  Repeat at least 3 times.
12.  7:57 "Q you have to hustle.  Keep moving buddy.  You have got to keep moving."  Blood pressure pushing day time high.
13. 8:00 "Gentleman, we are LATE.  Get your bodies into the car!" I then say, " I love you, see you at pick up, do your best."  When Mr. Handsome is in town, he acts as chauffer.  When he's not in town, this list is much longer.
14.  One more to send off and I am exhausted......  I will spare you the details, but she is the teenager so you can only imagine!

Working on inspiration.  Working on creativity.  Working on me.

Should I be flattered, furious or flabbergasted?

I love getting the mail.  Especially during the holidays because I generally get a few Christmas cards here and there.  Aside from the bills, which come all too frequently, I love getting the mail.

Until today.


Today, in my mailbox was the "American Baby Parenting Magazine,"  an offer to subscribe to "More Magazine, the magazine for women in their 50's" and to add insult to injury,  my "Welcome to AARP" packet.


WTF!


Am I in my child-bearing years?  No, that ship sailed about 1 year ago to the date.  Do I look like I'm 50?  Maybe it's the gray hair.  But AARP?  Someone needs to kick the shit out the person handling their demographic studies.

I am considering contacting my OB/GYN and asking him if he doesn't make enough money at the normal OB/GYN business.  You know birthin' babies, the ever popular annual exam and the boob fondling that comes along with that.  Because obviously he's selling his mailing list to make a little extra cash.

Honestly.  I'm not getting the mail tomorrow.