Ahem, Hate When That Happens

For the first time in the last 5 years I've started working outside of my house. Eww, I know. More of that to come (hopefully). Anyway with said job starting at 6am, I've been up at the bright hour of 4:30am lately. Eww again. With those lovely hours creeping up as my norm, I've found myself cat napping lately.. 5-15 minutes here and there. No big deal. Well tonight was different. I made my kids a healthy dinner of cinnamon/sugar toast and milk and laid down on the couch for a little nap at 5pm. Just woke up at a qtr to 7. The reason I woke up. I couldn't get my hair outta my mouth. Ya, I had drooled soooooo much that it dribbled down my cheek and into my hair. Then my hair matted to my face and in my mouth. Eww.

TMI? Probably.

Hard Days Work

Knock at the door. Not sure who the suits were that I was spying through the peephole, but had a good feeling it was our bi-monthly visit from the Kingdom Hallers. Nope, not today. Today was Kirby. Just as I'm giving my 'not interested' speel, suit #1 pulls out a piece of paper that has my husbands name, address and phone number on it. Ya, he signed us up for a drawing for a free trip to Mexico... in exchange for a demonstration. Ugh. Feeling obligated due to husbands lack of reading the fine print skills, I let them in.

So suit #1 and suit #2 come in with their boxes of goods. Goods being vacuum cleaners that cost more than my first born. Suit #1 has another appointment elsewhere, so he leaves suit #2 to me. This being his second demonstration suit #2 has done.

Poor suit #2. He could hardly get the thing out of the box, had to look at his cheat sheet about 14 times, knocked my blinds down as he was cleaning them, sucked up doll shoes off the floor and had to call his boss 3 times to figure out how the shampooer worked. From my cell phone.

If that was his second demo, I would have hated to be his first.

*Stuff*

.. that's sooo not the 's' word I want to be using right now. Ya, you know the one. We have too much of it. Especially these children (they are often referred to as 'these children' when I'm less than thrilled). Right now we're in the midst of trying to find a certain pair of brown shoes. You think this would be easy enough, go into your bedroom and get it out of the assigned shoe basket. If only. They're basket runneth over.

I've realized that it's not that my kids are too irresponsible to keep track of their 'stuff', its that I have let the amount get to be too great.I hate when I'm a grown up and have to take responsibility! There is far too much for them to be accountable for. And not just shoes. I'm not a keeper or a hoarder of things. I sort through and give away 'stuff' all the time. However, I have a horrible habit of replacing it. So now as the shoe hunt continues and I sit here thinking about why things like this drive me insane, it's time for a change. Children do not need this many pairs of shoes. And honestly, I don't think they even want that many.

So let the deep cleaning commence... Grant me the serenity to sort through all this 'stuff', the courage to toss the things I do not need and the wisdom to not buy more!

Time for the Big Girl Panties.

Purple Panic

This is Purple. Purple has transformed my four year old daughter into a full fledged mother. She breastfeeds (ya, I know..), she changes her diaper, spent her birthday money to buy real diapers for her, changes her clothes, feeds her, rocks her, calms her cries (yep, she's one of those crying babies) and takes her everywhere. Literally. Everywhere.

Tonight, we had a Purple mis-hap. These are far and few between, but when they happen, oh man, sound the alarm. It's bedtime and Purple had vanished. She wasn't in the usual hiding spots (as Avery believes she hides when we can't find her). Purple tends to 'hide' under the bunk beds, under the computer desk or has an extended nap in her crib and is covered with so many blankets that she's not visible.

Finally, we find her. On the trampoline... She hid really well tonight.

I know how I've felt when I've turned around in the grocery store or in the park and can't immediately spot my kids. That deep and instant panic where you feel like you're not breathing. And I see that in my daughters face when we can't find Purple. As sad as it makes me to see her upset, I love seeing the Mommy she has become.

When it Rains, It Pours..

.. and for the last few days, that 'rain' has been milk. Not sure what the deal is, but every time I set a cup of milk in front my kids for the last 2 days, they some how manage to knock it over. Now, I'm not usually one to cry over spilled milk, but heck, it's over $3 a gallon right now! Now my kids aren't small toddlers that are just learning to drink out of a cup. They're capable (well, I thought they were) 6 and 4 year children. C'mon! The saga started Friday night at dinner. They were waiting for their dinner to be served, ever so patiently (this is me rolling my eyes). And no sooner I had set down their cups and the arm wrestling began. As we all know, arm wrestling is an ancient, acceptable form of dinner table entertainment.. Ryleigh (she's 6) grabs her sisters arm (which just came out of a cast) and slams it to the table along with her Hello Kitty cup of milk. I go through the usual steps...

1. Sigh.

2. Deep breath

3.Internal count to 10

4.Prayer(Please Lord help me remember I don't want to kill them~ you know, the usual one)

..and it's cleaned up. Refilled. Dinner is served. We eat, we clear dishes and whatdya know, Avery spills the rest of her milk on the way to the sink. Repeat steps 1-4.

Saturday morning.. (remember Diary of a Bad Mom is the name so there will be no judging) we have the usual sugar filled cereal. And you guessed it, while trying to slurp out the last 3 drops of the now pink/orange colored, suped up, sugar milk, they both spill! Ugh.

Here we are on Sunday night. Dinner. We made it all through the meal. Yep, from set up to take down, it was spill free. I'm ushering them into the bathroom, to get ready for their bath and she just had to do it. Like something greater than she was, was compelling her. Ryleigh stops and grabs the half filled cup off the counter, of you guessed it, milk. Drops it as soon it touched her grimy little palm. Steps 1-4....

They're in the bath now. They may never get out. And I'm okay with that.