My Long List of Apologies

We've just completed yet another torturous overseas plane trip. We left Honolulu at 8 p.m. one day, and finally arrived in Birmingham at 8 p.m. the next. Subtracting the five-hour time difference, that's NINETEEN hours of riding in and waiting for airplanes.

It was a pretty difficult trip for all of us.

(image from http://highsierraspotters.com)

So I'd like to send an open letter of apology to the following people:

1. To the stranger seated beside Little Girl and me on the plane from Honolulu: I'm sorry my child kept leaning on you when she fell asleep. And that she peed her seat.

2. To the people who got flashed: I'm sorry I forgot to pack clean underwear and my five-year old had to "go commando" after the seat-wetting incident.

3. To everyone seated near the cabin bathroom: I'm sorry for my daughter's ear-piercing, blood-curdling shrieks when she pinched her finger in the folding door. I took her inside the cubicle as quckly as I could, but I know you could probably still hear her. (I think even the birds flying nearby were cringing at the noise.)

4. To the people stuck standing up and sitting on the floor in the waiting area at the Seattle airport: I'm sorry my family took up all the chairs. In our defense, they really should have installed more than seven.

5. To the security team in the Seattle airport: I'm sorry we looked so suspicious. Or for whatever thing we did that made you swarm the area we were occupying with about twenty agents and a couple of bomb dogs.

6. To the odd-looking possible cross-dresser seated next to my teenage daughter: I'm sorry she thought you were an undercover agent. I think she was just still freaked out by the uber-security scan at the airport.

7. To the passengers on the last leg of the trip: I'm sorry I couldn't muster enough energy to properly reprimand the twins when they started that "Who can yell the word 'poopy' the loudest?" contest. I really tried,but I kept nodding off. (You know you're tired when you can sleep through a screaming contest.)

And, last but not least:

8. To my husband: I'm sorry I was so grouchy. I started out pleasant; I really did. It's just that the lack of sleep made all the nice leak out of me. I noticed that it seemed to work that way for you as well.

Anyways, I'm glad that's all over.

Until it's time to go back....

The cupboard is not quite bare....

We're about to go away for a month, so I'm trying to use up some of the food stored in the pantry and freezer. Therefore, as of last week, I am not buying new food.

You can imagine how happy the kids are about this policy.

They act as if our kitchen looks like this picture, which I got from a food pantry's desperate appeal for donations, dated several years ago.
(image from http://www.praythenews.org.nz)

Here's ET's account of her current quest-for-snack procedure:

1. Check refrigerator.
2. Check pantry.
3. Lower standards.
4. Repeat as often as necessary.

They are so deprived....

In my defense, here is my ACTUAL reduced-stock pantry:

A Happy Family Outing

I took the kids to Farrell's for dinner.

That is, we ate dinner, but we were really there for the ice cream.

The hostess took us to a booth. I looked at it uncertainly.

I had told her there were six of us. (Yes, I took all five children.) She seemed to expect all of us to squeeze onto the two bench seats. Probably she wasn't used to seeing anyone with so many children.

Gamely, we all sat down, three to each side. It was a little tight. There was some shoving.

We looked at our menus, and around at the fun decor. ET pointed at something behind me.

We looked back to see what she was talking about. There was a mirror, a carousel horse, and about twenty-five kitschy little signs.

GG asked for clarification. "What do you see?"

I said, being cute, "She sees a happy family!" in my cheeriest voice.

ET gave me a look. "Uh, no," she said.

Boo smiled. "I do! I see a happy family!"

Heartened, I said, "You do?"

"Yep," said Boo, "right over there." She pointed across the room at smiling couple with a single child.


http://mplayinthegame2.wordpress.com

Sick Mommy gets no sympathy

(image from http://hahasforhoohas.com/)

I was sick this week.

I know, I know. Mommies are not allowed to get sick. Well, I guess my immune system didn't get the memo, because I got the flu.

So for about two days, when I wasn't busy driving everyone to all the various places they had to get to, I was lying on the couch or my bed, alternately shivering and sweating, and periodically croaking instructions to the kids.

Did my pitiful state make the kids more or less likely to listen to me? No.

Did seeing poor Mommy felled by the flu inspire them to be more helpful and considerate? No.

Did they even try to go easy on me or leave me alone for the duration of my illness? Um... Not really, no.

Example Scene:

Mommy is lying huddled on the couch wrapped in a quilt while the twins alternately sit on her, jump on her, shove each other on/off her, et cetera, and various inane cartoons play on Netflix.

Banging noises come from upstairs. Mommy pulls the quilt over her head to block out the sound as the thumping increases. Finally a long scream starts.

The scream continues, growing in volume as it gets closer, all the way down the stairs. Finally the screamer appears. It is Boo.

Boo: Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy MOMMY!!!!!!!

Me: (weakly) what.

Boo: GG put my RECORDER in her PANTS!

 

I'm going to pause this scene for one minute here to point out: I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.

One kid actually put another kid's musical instrument in her pants. GG's defense was "She wouldn't stop playing it and it's annoying."

 

Okay. I'll admit that the recorder is not the most melodious instrument on earth; in fact, it sounds a lot like an icepick in the ear, even when properly played. Still, to put it down your PANTS? Come on! Honestly, I was stymied as to what to do here.

(recorder image from www.amazon.com)

Me: Okay. What do you want me to do about this?

Boo: (long pause) Make GG live somewhere else?

Me: That's not really an option.

Boo: Please?

Me: Boo. I'm sick. Can you two just please try to get along for today?

Boo: (obviously unhappy with this) I guess.

Me: (as one of the twins body-slams me) Ow.

Little Boy: Mommy I want JUICE!

Little Girl: Me too me too me too! I want JUICE!

ET: Mom can you proof-read this paper? It's due tomorrow.

Me: (groans)

The good news is, once my husband came home I was allowed to crawl upstairs and sleep for a while.

And after a couple of days, it became apparent that I would not in fact die.

Which was good, because everyone wanted dinner and the sink was full of dirty dishes.

The Traveling TP Incident

I was standing at the playground in my neighborhood watching the twins the other day when GG ran up to me and handed me half a roll of toilet paper.

That's it. That's all she did. She didn't explain anything. She just ran off.

I looked at the TP in my hand. Then I looked at the other mom I'd been talking to. She said, "Um.... was that your daughter?"

I considered denying the relationship, but it seemed pointless. I mean, as weird as it is for your kid to hand you a roll of TP, it's weirder for a stranger to do it.

So I said, "Yeah."

Then I continued to hold the TP until it was time to walk back home. After all, with five girls in the house, I can't afford to waste even half a roll.

When I got home, I asked GG what was up with the TP. She giggled uncontrollably, then explained that her older sister threw it at her, so she brought it to me.

Was that supposed to be some form of indirect tattling? I have no idea.

If so, it was wildly ineffective tattling, as no one got into trouble.

All that happened was, I looked really weird holding a roll of TP at the playground for an hour.

(image fromwikipedia.org)

Schedule, Interrupted

So it's the second week of school here in paradise, and I've got my drop-off and pick-up schedule pretty much down.

(Oh, you can skip the schedule and go straight to the beginning of the actual story if you want. I just want to feel validated by writing out the boring junk I do all day so it looks like I'm really accomplishing something.)

(image from http://post639.com)

Morning schedule:
7:05 Leave house
7:15 Drop ET and GG at their faraway bus stop
7:20 Bus picks up ET
7:25 Bus picks up GG
7:30 Drop Boo at the elementary school
8:00 Take the twins to preschool
8:15 FREEDOM!

Afternoon schedule:
(Monday/Tuesday)
12:30 Pick up the twins from preschool
1:45/1:55 Pick up ET at the high school
2:05 Pick up Boo at the elementary school
2:35 Pick up GG at the middle school

(Wednesday)
12:30 Pick up the twins from preschool
1:15 Pick up Boo at the elementary school
1:45 Pick up GG at the middle school
1:55 Pick up ET at the high school

(Thursday/Friday)
12:30 Pick up the twins from preschool
2:05 Pick up Boo at the elementary school
2:35 Pick up GG at the middle school
2:40 Pick up ET at the high school

Yeah. I know, that was tedious to read through. Believe me, it's worse to LIVE through.

Okay, here's the BEGINNING OF THE ACTUAL STORY:

Wednesday, in only week TWO of school, my schedule already got messed up.

There was a big monkey wrench thrown in, called My Kids Forgot Stuff. Perhaps you other moms have also encountered this little snag in the day's schedule before.


http://assistechblog.wordpress.com

We got to the elementary school, and Boo said, "I forgot my notebook."

I said cheerfully, "That's okay. We'll go back and get it. There's plenty of time."

We drove back home. On the way, my cell phone rang.

It was GG. "I forgot my school ID."

Since my oldest already went to the middle school I know this is a detention-punishable offense. So I said, still cheerful, "Okay. I'm going home anyways; I'll get it."

We got to the house and Boo ran in and got her notebook. I ran in also and looked on the hook where GG is supposed to hang her bag and ID.

The ID was not there.

Neither was it in the hallway, the bathroom, or the girls' bedroom.

I called GG and she didn't answer. I texted her. I gave up and left.
I took Boo back to school and my phone rang again. I pulled over in front of the school to explain to GG less-than-cheerfully that she needed to go to the office and tell them her ID was lost. Surely she is not the first seventh-grader who has forgotten her ID in the history of that school. They must have some provision for this situation.

While I was explaining this, a military policeman knocked on my window and informed me that I could not park there.

I said, in a non-cheerful way, that I was not parked. I hung up on GG and left.

Then I texted her:
You got me in trouble with the MP's.

She texted me:
Im sry
And yet ur still txting
niiiiice mom

I took the twins to preschool and walked them in, which takes about fifteen minutes since I have to make them hang up their backpacks, stow their lunchboxes, find the little turtles with their names, et cetera.

During that time GG informed me that I needed to bring her $5 for a new ID so that she would not get detention.

I seriously considered texting her back:
Im sry
And just moving on the the next item on my schedule: FREEDOM!

However my general policy is to allow a grace period for forgetfulness. That is, I will bring you your forgotten lunch/homework/whatever ONE TIME. If you forget again you are on your own. I am not your personal courier.

So I took her the five bucks.

I didn't get much gratitude for all this trouble. But I did get to resume my schedule.

I went on to... you guessed it!.. FREEDOM!

School starts early here in Hawaii

That's right! It really is paradise.....

No seriously, school started this week and I for one am excited about it. (The kids, not so much...)

This year I've got five kids in school every day at four different schools. This is super great while they are all gone, but not a great when it's time to drop them all off (at the same time) and pick them all up (at different times.)

I envision spending a lot of time in the car again this year.

Why are they not riding the school bus, (photo from wikipedia) you may ask? Well, I admit that was my plan.

I even paid for the bus to pick up my oldest two daughters. (Yes, in Hawaii you have to PAY for the school bus. Paradise ain't cheap, folks!)

But...due to contsruction in my neighborhood, the bus can't get up the hill, and the stop has been moved to like a mile from my house.

Yes, I found that out AFTER I had paid. Grrrr....

Anyways, since all my facebook friends were posting First Day of School photos of their smiling offspring, I made my older three kids line up outside with their backpacks and take a picture.

Apparently they didn't get the memo about the SMILING part.

But we did get a nice picture when preschool started a few days later. The twins were excited about school starting.

As my older kids say, "Of COURSE they like school! In preschool all they do is color and play outside!" Then they predict darkly, "They'll figure it out later."

But who is happiest about the first day of school?

THIS GIRL!!!

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

I've been putting my foot in my mouth a lot recently.
I blame it on fatigue from my trip.

(image from http://toonclips.com)

Just in the past week, here are a couple of examples:

Example #1:

My father-in-law kindly let me drive his SUV while we were visiting. After a few days I thought the doors were sticking a little so I helpfully mentioned it.

Me: (watching dad struggle with the door) Yeah, I noticed that door has been sticking lately.
Dad: (muscling the door open) Me too. It loks like one of your kids spilled an entire bottle of Coke on it.
Me: Ummm...
Dad: Yeah, the doors never stuck until you started driving this thing.
Me: (unable to speak around the foot) Mmmffff.

Example #2:

On the flight home, the kids were really starting to bug me by the third leg of the trip.

Okay, they were bugging me at the beginning of the trip, but after two layovers and seven cumulative hours in-flight, I was hiding my irritation much less successfully.

I was waiting oustide the tiny bathroom for about the millionth time while the twins used the facilities. (There's nothing more fascinating to a four-year-old than an airplane toilet.) A nice lady who had been sitting near me was also waiting.

Nice Lady: You have five children?
Me: Yes. Unfortunately.
Nice Lady: I wish I had children.
Me: Ummm...
Nice Lady: Yeah, I'm past forty now and I'm afraid I won't ever have any now.
Me: (horrified at myself, completely unable to speak around the foot) MMMFFFFF!


Hopefully after a little rest, I'll learn to choose my words more carefully.....

You two are trying my patience....

So over the past week I have had four different people say to me "You're so patient," when watching me with my four-year-old twins.

By which I suppose they mean, "You must be really patient, since those little monsters are still breathing."

I have of course been demurring, "Oh, no, I'm really not all that patient."


But after the fourth person I started to think, "Hey! Maybe I am patient! Wow!"

This is called tempting fate. I don't recommend it.

Because as soon as you think  you've got some virtue down pat, you are going to really get pounded.

So the twins have been extra-trying recently.

This culminated today in an extremely embarrassing incident. This incident is something I would never tell anyone I know about.

So of course, I'm going to put it on my blog for everyone to see. (Since I'm crazy and all.)

I took the twins out to lunch with a friend of mine today. I think I ordered something a little too spicy because I ended up feeling a little queasy later.

Um... I'll try to describe this as delicately as possible.

So I was having ...ahem... intestinal discomfort. I was required to go with the twins to a public bathroom. And then wait for them both to use the single toilet before me.

Patience,  I told myself. Remember patience!

Then when it was finally my turn and I sat down, Little Girl CLOSED THE LID OF THE TOILET BEHIND ME. As I was sitting down.

I'm not even kidding.

You cannot imagine how gross this was.

There's nothing to try your patience like a public bathroom full of poop. And a pair of preschool commentators talking up a storm while you clean it all up.

It was a bad scene. Nobody witnessing it would have thought me in any way virtuous.

And yes, the twins are both still breathing at the end of the day today.

But do me a favor? Don't call me patient because of it.

(Cartoon above from http://www.savagechickens.com)

I feel much safer now....

The other day a maintenance man came to our house to repar something, and he said he'd do a safety inspection while he was here.

So he checked the smoke alarm and fire extinguisher, and cleaned the air filters, and then he asked me if we'd had safety sickers installed on our upstairs windows.

(image from wikipedia)

I didn't know what he meant, so he showed them to me.

Wow, huh?

It's a good thing he installed those safety stickers right away.

That will keep those kids from falling out of the window.

Interruption to Saturday's quiet

I was spending a pleasant Saturday afternoon with the kids.

Well, sort of.

Truthfully I was trying to keep the twins entertained in the living room and ignoring the noises coming from the big kids, who were all upstairs.

(image from http://brandontoddwright.blogspot.com)

After a while things got quiet upstairs, and the twins were settling down to watch a movie with me on the couch. That's when ET appeared with an announcement.

"Boo's underwear is in the neighbor's tree."

So the peace was shattered with a bunch of confused questions.

"What happened?"

"Which neighbor? Which tree?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

And most important: "WHY is your sister's underwear in a TREE?!"

Apparently Boo was angry that ET and GG weren't letting her in the room with them. So in retaliation, she began shoving various pairs of her underwear under the locked door.

And GG retaliated in turn by throwing all the underwear off the balcony and into the front yard. (And the neighbor's front yard, apparently.)

Obviously Boo didn't really think this one through....

So Boo had retreived all the underwear from the yards, but one pair was still stuck in the neighbor's tree and she was afraid to tell me about it.

I went outside and shook the tree until it came down, thinking, HOW do these things HAPPEN?

While Boo watched embarrassed from the house, vowing to remember next time to use someone ELSE'S underwear for her retaliatory schemes....

What I found under my couch

No there's no photograph. I have to maintain SOME dignity here.

As Barney says, you have to Use Your Imagination.

So last night I saw a Care Bears video tape case peeking out from under the couch and I pulled it out.

(Yes. We still use videotapes. I'm an OLD mommy, remember?)

(yuck-face image from http://winsonyeung.com)

The case was covered in some kind of clear sticky ooze I could not identify, and it dripped slowly but continuously as I lifted it up.

I made a face and sighed. Further investigation was needed here. As much as I hated to do it....

I moved the couch to look at the floor beneath.

I found a large puddle of the same unidentified icky mess with several plastic toys dotting it like islands.

Also I found some dirt. And some hairballs. And dried-up spill of what appeared to be pink nail polish

I wiped up everything but the nail polish, which will require some kind of major solvent to remove, unfortunately.

Then I tried to figure out what the wet spill was, examining it closely. The puddle was clear and sticky, thicker in the middle than it was on the ends as if it were in the process of congealing, and it smelled strangely fruity. I still had no idea what it was.

Searching for further clues, I tried to figure out where it had come from. There were no open containers around, and no telltale "spill-proof" (HA!) cup near the spill. I took the couch apart to make sure there wasn't any sort of dripping bottle hidden under the cushions. I simply could not find the source of the spill either.

I shrugged and gave up, deciding to go ahead and wash the couch cover while I had it all taken apart. As I usually do, I put a quilt over the couch to protect it while the slipcover was in the washing machine.

(I don't really have to say WHY the couch needs protection, do I?)

When GG saw the un-slipcovered couch, she said, "Who threw up?" That's usually why the cover gets washed.

Then my husband told me what had happened while I'd been gone that evening. Apparently ET had left a large bottle of flavored water uncapped near the twins.

I said, "AHA! The souce of the Weird Unidentified Spill is revealed!"

Let's do the math on that shall we?

   1 open container of clear sticky beverage
+ 2 crazy toddlers
+ time to fester under the couch
= ONE BIG  NASTY MESS!!!

Mystery solved.

(image from http://www.walmart.com)

After this ET came downstairs and saw the quilt-shrouded couch.

"Who barfed?" she said.

At least they're consisitent.

Bye Bye Automatic Sprinklers...FINALLY!!!

A few months ago I posted about the annoyance of the automatic sprinklers turning my backyard into a swamp.

(Read that post here if you're interested.)

At the time I was happy that the office had finally turned the sprinklers off, but apparently that was only a temporary reprieve.

Those suckers were right back on again in a few days, randomly spraying to their little plastic hearts' content.

It wasn't just the backyard, either, although that was definitely the most irritating place for an automatic sprinkler.

There were also sprinklers in the front: aboveground and made of PVC pipes with protruding sprinkler heads to puncture the tires of unsuspecting cars that accidentally strayed from the pavement.

But now, I have good news!

THEY FINALLY PULLED OUT ALL THE SPRINKLERS!

I saw some workmen oustide sawing the PVC pipes up and stacking them on the grass.

Which they left sitting out in piles.

So that later I saw a couple of neighborhood boys playing light sabers with them.

(Meaning the boys were whacking each other upside the head with lengths of PVC pipe.)

Seems like somebody should have anticipated that problem...

The Post-Christmas Let-Down

Okay, so the Christmas tree is finally taken down.

I put this task off every year because I hate it. Also everyone else hates it, and no one wants to help.

Here’s a photo of putting the tree up.

See how everyone is happy and full of family togetherness? There’s Christmas music playing, and we’re all holding up old ornaments and cheerfully saying, “Oh I remember this!”

Taking the tree down is a whole other story.

At dinner I said cheerfully, “Who wants to help Mommy take the tree down tonight?”

There was a little silence, and suddenly everyone remembered urgent errands that needed to be performed after dinner.

This year we had the added fun of calculating just how many of those nostalgic old ornaments had been broken by the twins.

Here’s a little sampling of the casualties. The ornaments that go in these boxes, including one that we’ve had since 1995, were smashed beyond repair. (A less happy reason to say, “Oh, I remember this!”)

This is of course not including all the ornaments I glued back together, with varying degrees of success, and put away.

I don’t know how one pair of three-year-olds manage to break so much more in one year than the three kids before them combined over fourteen years.

My husband says the twins’ destructive potential is not just double the average toddler’s, but quadruple.

Here’s the math:
  Stuff Baby Boy breaks alone
+Stuff Baby Girl breaks alone
+Stuff they break together for fun
+Stuff they break accidentally while fighting
=Four times the stuff broken!

There. (You see kids? Math can still be useful!)

Anyways, the tree is put away for another year.

Now we’re left with the sad empty boringness of the room. It’s strange, because this is the very same room that looked perfectly fine a month ago before we put the tree up, and in fact we wondered where the tree was going to go, since the room was so full. But now it looks empty.

It’s like that weird old story about the guy who visited the wise man because his house was too crowded and the man said okay bring in your cow your goat your chickens etc, and then after he finally took them all out again the man felt his house was sized just right.

(If you don’t know what I’m talking about I found the book at http://us.macmillan.com)



So I should remember the lesson of this book: It could always be worse.

The twins could be triplets!

Yet another reason why I wasn't nominated for "Mother of Year" this Christmas

Because I'm Last-Minute-Shopping Mommy.

I ended up at Toys R Us on December 23rd fighting the other panicked parents for the last Barbie Dream House.

But it wasn't really my fault!

Okay, here's the whole sad story...

(image from http://ny.racked.com)


I had bought the older kids some books, video games, and DVD's from the school book fair and the electronic store by November 30th.

Check.

I had finished all my shopping for people out-of-town by the first of December and mailed it all by the second.

Check.

I had proposed a let's-don't-buy-gifts-for-each-other-this-year plan to my husband, which he leapt upon with relief.

Check.

I had ordered several toys and books online for the younger children by December tenth, qualifying for free delivery in plenty of time for Christmas.

Check.

I headed to a couple of specialty stores and a clothing store for the rest of the stuff for the kids, and finished all that by December 19th.

Check.

I confirmed with my husband that we really did make a no-gifts-for-each-other pact and that it was not a trick.

Check.

Then we hit a little snag in the checklist.

December 22nd, 11:30 p.m., just before falling asleep: I realized I hadn't received that package I'd ordered two weeks ago with most of the younger kids' stuff in it. I tried not to panic.

December 23rd, 8:00 a.m.: I looked at my inbox and couldn't find the confirmation-of-order email. I tried not to panic. I checked my online credit card statement and did not find a charge for that store. I tried not to panic.

I went on the website and began to try to track my package. When I logged in it said I had no open orders. I started to panic.

Then I looked up at the top of the screen where it said cheerily, "You have 15 items in your shopping basket!"

ACK! Time to panic! I realized I had apparently never placed the order! THERE WAS NO PACKAGE ON ITS WAY AT ALL!!!!!!

Now, I don't know what kind of moron I have to BE to do this. I distinctly remember placing this order. Really. I do.

But there was the evidence staring me in the face: that cute little virtual shopping cart was winking away at me, chanting, "Fifteen ITEMS never ORDERED! Fifteen ITEMS never ORDERED!"

Christmas was two days away and I had almost no presents for THREE of my kids!

(image from http://blog.cayadutta.com)

So what else could I do? I went to Toys R Us with all the other waited-until-the-last-minute moms and dads.

And of course, spent more than I should have in order to compensate.

Sigh. Maybe next year I'll have it together.

At least the pact held up: My husband got me nothing and I got him nothing. That's one expense avoided.

Check.

Barf Car

A few weeks ago my van began to take on an unpleasant odor.


Perhaps you can guess, from the title of this blog entry, the precise nature of said stinkiness.



(image from http://www.cartoonstock.com)

The thing was, no one had been sick in the car recently, so I couldn’t figure out where the smell was coming from.

I thought it might be Eau de Lost Sippy Cup. (You know, like the ones we’ve found under the couch with solidified milk offensively curdled inside them. Ewwww…)

But I couldn’t find anything under the seats, and all of the twins’ cups were accounted for. I couldn’t really find the precise location of the smell either; although it was definitely in the general area of the twins’ carseats.

There was nothing to do but clean the whole car.

Now, you may remember I had the car “detailed” after an accident not too long ago, resulting in the cleanest van ever known. (Read that story here, if you’re interested.)

So I didn’t expect the mess under the seats could have gotten too bad. I was wrong.

I spent a couple of hours giving the van an intense cleaning. I took absolutely everything out of the car. I removed the carseat covers and washed them in the washing machine. I threw away all the trash that had been collecting under the seats. I vacuumed AND shampooed the carpets and seats. Then I left the whole thing open to air out inside the garage for 24 hours.

I’m telling you, this was a THOROUGH cleaning.

The next day we all got inside the newly clean van. Everyone exclaimed over how nice it looked. I congratulated myself on a job well done. We drove for a few minutes in silence.

Then ET remarked, “It still smells like barf in here.”

And the annoying thing is, she was right!

So I resorted to spraying air freshener every time we got in the car instead, drowning the bad smell in a sea of floral friendliness.

Maybe I should have just STARTED with that, and saved myself a lot of trouble.

A Christmas Card Photo--The Weird Way

This year we took our Christmas card photo on the beach. Which makes sense, because we live in Hawaii.

But just to mix things up we decided to bring along our Christmas tree.

You should have seen people's faces on this beach when we hauled out the big Christmas tree box and started putting it up. It is an old-style artificial tree where you have to sort the branches by size and then put them all on the central pole individually, so it was a fairly long process. They had lots of time to stare.

It was kind of you-might-be-a-redneck moment....

Why my home will never be featured in "House Beautiful"

I am not a don't-eat-in-the-living-room kind of mom.

I mean, I do insist on eating meals as a family as much as possible and all that, but there is definitely much consumption of food in front of the TV going on around here.

This is why most of my upholstered furniture is hidden by blankets and/or slipcovers, none of it is expensive, and a lot of it is old.

(image from housebeautiful.com)

Last night I looked at the loveseat where Baby Girl likes to sit and realized I wasn't going to be able to put off washing the slipcover any longer.

The mess on the cushion looked like she had attacked and subdued something wild there. I'm wondering, How much fight can a cheese sandwich really put up here?

The cheese sandwich crime scene was on top of the yogurt smears and cupcake crumbs that were already gathering on the couch. So I sighed and pulled the slipcover off to wash.

Later in the evening when I put the cover back on I was pleased to see how nice and clean it looked. It's like having new furniture! Sort of.

Then, of course, Baby Girl woke up this morning with a nasty stomach virus.

It's so nice to have your furniture cleaned before it gets vomited on....

A Musical Tribute to Going Back to School

Do you hear that?

It's a choir singing, to the tune of the Hallelujah Chorus!

"They're BACK at school now! They're BACK at school now! Back at school now! Back at school now! The kids are back at school!"

It's a beautiful sound. Silence in the house.

Now I'll finally be able to get some things DONE around here.

Right after I catch up on my facebook account......

Hey, is it time to pick them up ALREADY?!

I'm That Freak at the Store

I was at the grocery checkout with my full cart.

And I DO mean FULL. People were staring. Getting it there was like pushing a Mack truck. I stack every inch of that cart, top and bottom, and have stuff hanging off the sides.

The checkout girl eyed the massive pile dubiously and asked if I was having a party.

I said, “No, I just have five kids.”

She stared at me. Apparently I’m quite the oddity.

A man stopped and asked, “Are you one of them Extreme Couponers?”

I told him no.

He said, “Shoot. I always wanted to see one of them.”

I guess I’m not as odd as I COULD be.

(above image from amazon.com)