Don't break my balls!

The ultimate goal of parenting is to raise independent people who are kind and self-sufficient. Or at least something close to that.

Hunter this morning told me that the shirt I'd set out for him smelled like puke. What this really means is that he doesn't like it. He doesn't think he can just say, "Hey this shirt sucks, I'm going to get another." Instead he makes up some fact that he knows will be unreasonable to contradict. His circular, passive-aggressive thinking drives me insane. Instead of having this conversation yet again, I sighed and told him to get another.

Meadow was wearing flip flops this morning. School rules won't allow flip flops at school. I think it may be an OSHA rule, I don't know. This is a conversation I have had with her 80 billion times. No joke. So this morning when I reminded her that it's a school rule, not my rule, she again took to arguing with me. Yes, me. About the rule. I sighed and asked her to please just put tennis shoes on.

I love my kids. There are so many wonderful things about being a parent. But there are also things that suck the life out of you. Like when you want to raise these independent people, but no one tells you that the path to get them there is really irritating. You want them to look at you with some sort of gratitude, instead you get these looks that say, "I guess you should have thought about that before you spawned us." Yes, I suppose I should have. But babies are so mushy and cute!

It's really funny when a toddler picks up something completely inappropriate from a commercial and repeats it loudly and often. If you've seen any previews to TLC's Cake Boss, the New Jersey cake boss says, "Don't break my balls!" to one of his employees. Why River picked that particular part of the commercial to hold onto, I don't know. Listening to him repeat it over and over is one of the funniest things EVER. Really. So when I'm exhausted from running around after River at a BBQ, I am also acutely aware that he still thinks I'm awesome and that this time is short. I'm going to hold on to that for as long as he'll let me.

Humbling tips for job hunting

When applying for a job after basically going to school and being a mom for 10+ years, be prepared to lose control of your bowels when they say "Please provide four professional references, at least 2 direct managers."

Do the kids count? (Because I am totally River's bitch.)

Wish me luck!

**Wait. I don't think I want the older ones to review my performance. They have a distorted vision of reality and what does and does not constitute "meanest mommy EVER".

small talk

dropped river off today and witnessed this conversation:

alex, i had a bath!

you did?!

yeah! smell my hair, alex! smell my hair!

no!

it smells good!

no!

alex! smell my hair!

no!

*lol*

**something profane, yet charming** (if you know of such a word, let me know)

This is what life is like in our house right now:

• AHHH! OMG! FINALS!
• Holy mother of stomach ailments, i think we has the piggy flu here
• Yes, I am aware there are all kinds of things wrong with that last bullet point (see first and second bullets and then ponder how much I care)

Huh. I guess that's it. Back in a week or so:)

Wow, I suck. **updated**

So I'm trying to figure out why Meadow is crying about something she didn't like on her field trip and I say something like, "Seriously. Did you get hurt? Because if you didn't I just can't imagine what you could possibly have to cry about on a field trip."

They made her look at a dissected frog. That used to be alive. And that made her sad enough she still can't talk about it without crying.

Wow, I suck.

**Later, when Meadow was explaining to Mike about the frog she said this:

"They SAID they use a company who looks for dead frogs, AKA they totally kill frogs."

Is it wrong that I love that I've raised such a good little skeptic?**

Another sweatpants drawer and cancer talk

I want another sweatpants drawer. I'm not sure what else to say about this, except that it kind of sums up the horror my husband feels almost every time I leave the house. I plan on growing up some day, but not until I have to. And... if I get a job at a hospital and get to wear scrubs... that poor man will never have a properly dressed wife.

***

Now for a completely unrelated story:

Hunter came up last night and asked us to look at his eye because he had a gray line across it. Mike took Hunter's glasses off and said, "Dude, you just need to clean your glasses." I heard Hunter reply, "Oh, because I heard that a gray line in your eye was a sign of cancer."

True story.

A Quick Note To My Dog

Dear Lola,

You seem like lately you've been losing your mind a little bit.

When you do things like POOP on the bed, it makes it hard to defend you. You know, it's a bed. The one we SLEEP in. Now, while I'm grateful that you made it happen on Mike's side, there is also a limit as to how much I can protect you.

So to be clear: Don't EVER poop on the bed again. M'kay?

Love,

The one who protects you.

Spring Snow

Easter egg pictures

Just trying to help out

Did you know that in order to take advantage of crock pot cooking you have to remember to plug it in?

You're welcome.

Lots of stuff all smooshed in a scattered post

Mike landed a job! We are back in the work-force!! Yay!!!

We just went to dinner and this is why I don't like to eat out with my kids:

• River spilled my water.
• River doesn't like to sit.
• River likes to touch everything he shouldn't.
• River is loud.
• Hunter won't sit still.
• Like, I asked him to sit down at least 4 times.
• The kids always want ridiculous drinks and protest loudly when I say no.
• Hunter shoved too much food in his mouth and puked at the table.
• No, really, puked. At the table. While I was eating. Next to him.
• River asked to go potty.
• Then he came back to the table and yelled "I just peed in my pants!"
• I'm sure there were more things, but those are the highlights.

I wish, desperately, that I had a secret blog. It would have great stuff on it. (Just like that sentence there...great...stuff.) I'd tell you the titles, but I'm pretty sure even the titles are too racy/inappropriate/outrageous.

In five short weeks I will be enjoying my last summer vacation. I can't wait!

We're asking our kids if they've ever kissed anybody because I heard one of their classmates had already french kissed. FRENCH KISSED. (I'm not sure if you know this or not, but my capacity to be the parent of a teenager is... well, I'm just not ready yet.)

Oprah had a show about the sex talk and there was talk of vibrators for teenage girls. And I am SO NOT THERE.

Meadow said the other day in the car that Hunter should "really try to sleep as much as possible so you don't have to realize the horrible nightmare your life has become". And I said "Where did that come from?" And she said "Chowder". Which is a cartoon I let my kids watch. Clearly, I should be more selective.

Oprah had a show about single Dads and there was a guy whose wife died a day after she gave birth to their first child. And then all my bitching and pseudo-problems seemed so very small.

So, to sum it all up, life is good and irritating and good and hard and good and weird and good and funny and good and scary. (But mostly good.)

Read with enthusiasm

Mom! I just peed on my hand!!

Awesome dude. Let's wash them now, okay?

Quickie

River, I need to change your diaper.

No.

Come here NOW please.

No.

Come here or I will come get you.

No!

Fine. I'm going to get you then.

No!

I'm going to lay you down now...

I don't like you! I want to punch you in the face!

(How do you not laugh at that? He's what we like to call, um, expressive.)