Merry Christmas, Happy New Years, and If I don't see you? Goodnight!

Ah, not really. I'm hoping to be back to blogging before too long. It's been a couple of weeks, and I've been feeling groggy/sleepy/sloppy/sandy-ish as of late. It's the winter time, or really, the lack of winter time, I suppose. I've always wanted to move south the avoid the cold and snow and ice, but now that Ohio is struggling to get it so far this year, I kinda really miss it! We're less than a week from christmas, and it doesn't even feel like it. I'm still rushing like a panicked maniac, but it still hasn't hit me that we're just days away from the big day.

It's the no-snow! Wow. I never, EVER thought I'd say that I miss the snow. All I see is gray, mud and rain. Warm temps. I feel like it's March, and I'm cranky because winter was too long, and I'm ready to see spring already. The whole inch of snow we got a few days ago was GOLD. I miss it already. sniffle.

I really don't have a whole lot to say tonight. For once, I have just about everything I need done for Christmas, done. It's a good feeling. I don't know HOW I pulled it off this year, and I'm real excited about it. I'm just waiting on the snow. Yeah! Snow! C'mon!

oops.

Hey guys, goodnight. I promise next time, I'll make it up to you. Promise.

Time to Get Romantic?

Look. I've had a dog almost all of my life; growing up, we had Lady dog, and then I bought this little chihuahua for my mom, and we named him Squirt. (ok, SHE named him Squirt. I wanted to name him Batman.)

We just adopted our first family dog back in October. A dog for my kids to have and love and take care of, and dammit, they do a GREAT job of it, too. Her name is Maebe. She's a sweet little thing, a bit timid around men, but she does good.

I've learned one VERY important thing when it comes to having a dog.

If you decide you want to get... ahem... "romantic" with your husband, wife, significant other, do NOT let the dog into the room with you.

I didn't KNOW this! See, I lived at home with my parents when we had our other dogs, so I wasn't exactly "gettin' bizzay" at any time, plus, I never let the dogs sleep in my room anyway. I had a waterbed. Do you know how hard it is to sleep with a dog in a waterbed? It's ridiculous.

So anyway. The other night, the Chunk decides he wants to get "romantic". Usually I avoid this by sleeping, pretend sleeping, or eating, but damn, he caught me at a vulnerable time in my life, when I was just laying in bed, reading. I thought "hell, why not. He's cute!", and got on with it, forgetting that Maebe was curled up at the end of the bed, sleeping.

Well, she WAS sleeping.

The looks she was giving me, the side eyes, and the embarassment on her face said it all. I was ashamed. It was as though one of my kids walked in on us, and we hadn't even really done any romancing yet. Sigh. She just kept watching and watching, and I'm trying to not notice, and Chuck has NO problem noticing, until finally... "I give up!!", I say.

Chunk: What? No lovin' time?
Me: No! Maebe! She's creepin' me out!
Chunk: Kick her out of the room then!
Me: No! That's so mean! I can't do that, I'd be a bad mom, and then I'd feel horrible and have to give her extra beggin' strips tomorrow, then she'll think she can watch us ALL of the time, just so she can get extra treats, like she's being rewarded for my humiliation, and just... OK. I'll let her out.

So I did. I felt bad, so I got her a treat.

And when I came back to the bedroom? Chunk was passed out.

I tried to bing search "sleeping asian", and all it was giving me was XXimages of sleeping asian women. Since this doesn't exactly match Chunk's description, we'll go with this:

Swear to God, he's in the same damn position, right now.

A Breakdown of Sorts

Man, I wish I could breakdance.


I've thought about letting Chloe take a dance class next spring, after we file our taxes. Or gymnastics. Something. I would love for her to have some coordination and grace.

I have NONE.

No rythym, no grace, and I coudn't walk a straight painted line on the road to save my life. If I were pulled over for a sobriety test, and I was sober, I would still fail. I'm the only person I know who falls UP the steps. (No, I take that back. My mother is just as bad. I must get it from her.) I'm the only one who undresses to get a shower, and starts counting all the new bruises I have and "WHEREVER DID THEY COME FROM??" may slip from my lips a few times as I go.

We have an artificial tree. As I was putting it together, I sliced my finger open like a papercut from one of the "needles". WHO does that?

Me.

I'm stringing the lights, and starting to feel jolly, and WHO falls into the tree, and tumbles into a mess of twisted metal and paper sharp "needles"?

Me.

Who goes to get into the shower today, and slips, AND slides, and manages to barely hang on to dear life on  the handicap railing, so thoughtfully installed by the nice lady's son who USED to live here? I think we know the answer to that, and no, it wasn't Chuck. (Although he did "ski" down the carpeted stairs of our old apartment once, to show me how slippery his slippers were, and may or may not have ended up sliding down the stairs on his back, while ripping the railing straight out of the wall.)

Right now, I'm nursing a thumbnail that has torn away from my thumb. I did it while washing dishes, but I'm not sure how.

I would like Chloe to take part in some classes, so that she doesn't end up like me. So far, it looks like she'll be OK. Maybe Ness got the magic genes, and we should avoid football, the sport he is SO excited to try once he gets old enough.

Oh! And you know, in the short time it took for me to get my shower, Ness found some bubblegum, chewed it, and rubbed it into 5 different spots of this ugly, shaggy pink carpet. It was a NIGHTMARE to clean out. I had to watch where I sprayed the carpet cleaner.

After all, I'm the only person I know who's ever shot a raw chunk of potato in my open eye.

He looks like a badass, because he IS.

Time to Put On My Big Girl Pants!

Yeah, I know I was quite the wah-baby in my last post. That's what I get for decorating a tree with two fighting kids and an empty belly. I'm far too sensitive when I'm hungry and lacking sleep. I'm a wreck.

In reality, her tits are in WAY better shape than my own.

So, I'm OK now. I survived the night, I ate a couple bowls of Cookie Crisp cereal the next morning, and thought about things. I've decided that it's best to just let Ness go when HE'S ready to go, and I'm not going to push it anymore. The only thing it's going to do is frustrate me, and I don't want him to resent me OR the toilet. I want him to use the damn thing. Although, if I resented something bad enough, you could bet your ass I'd shit all over it. So maybe I should push him into it. This could work after all.

I think I finally finished my christmas shopping today. I also want to add that my manager is an amazing lady, and I'm sure she already knows this, but hey, THANKS GINA. You rock.

I worked ONE day this week. It was a great feeling. I feel liberated, like a hard day ending, and you get to take off that bra, you know, the one with the underwire poking out of the side, and the strap that keeps falling on one side, and is entirely too tight on the other shoulder. I'm done until Saturday. Then Sunday, I get to take Chloe to see a play here in Alliance, Beauty and the Beast. I'm hoping she digs it, because I didn't really have the money to do this, but scraped it together anyway, and it's with her girl scout troop, whom I still have mixed feelings about, but am feeling a little bit better. It's just strange, nothing like the girl scouts I was in when I was a kid. (Excuse me while I shake my fist and adjust my dentures.) Nothing is the way it was when I was a kid. Cartoons aren't the same (although most of them are BETTER, in my opinion), candy is more expensive, and my clothes don't fit me the same. I have a muffin top, and it's not the sweet kind that's all covered in sugar that you can eat and feel guilty/giddy about.

Oh! I bought this book for the kids for christmas.

All of My Friends are Dead

It is high-larious. I don't know if it's so much kid friendly like the listing says it is.

I read it with the one Kelly Murphy last night, and believe me, I've never seen anyone laugh as hard as she did when the tree had mono, thanks to Carlos' nasty rumor. I'm telling you, it may not be a book for kids, but you should buy it for yourself. You won't regret it. I'll give it to Chloe when she gets older, maybe 18? (I'm not saying it's a dirty book. There's just jokes in there that kids definitely wouldn't get.)

Well. I'm still waiting to hear back from Kent State. I applied about a week ago, so I could classes for Radiology. I'm pretty excited, and hoping for good news. I'll let you know about that. :)

I think that's pretty much it. My mind's occupied right now with thoughts of sleep and candy, and I'm working from a blank slate. When I started this post, I had all kinds of things to say, but ... I'm out. Brain fart. I'm a blonde? I have a ton of excuses. 

Things I Fail at as a Mommy

Tonight, we finally got around to decorating our christmas tree. I realize I said we were going to do this days ago, but things happen, and I got tired, bored, and very unmotivated to do much of anything. Winter isn't exactly my season, and I have a hard time dealing with it every year. Even with a new house and great things happening, this year is no exception. I hardly work anymore, which I'm actually pretty OK with, but all I want to do is hide in my bed and sleep. I find myself becoming very short tempered, lazy and blech. (I'm not sure how "blech" is supposed to feel, exactly, so if you know, kindly learn me on the subject.)

So anyway. We decorated the tree. I took a picture of my chuds in front of the tree. See?

Now. What do you see here? You know what I see? I see a beautiful 5 year old, huggin' on Mrs. Claus like the old woman has cookies hidden right there in her apron pocket. I also see my nekkid 3 year old son, who refuses to even LOOK at the toilet, and will sit and pee in his big boy underwear, all day, every day. I feel like a failure at this project. Chloe? She was no problem. She was all about the toilet, and sleeping through dry nights before the week was done. Cotton candy rewards did the trick, and it was AWESOME. Two years old. Great stuff.

Ness. Now Ness... he's different. This kid is the complete opposite of Chloe. When we're at the playground, Chlo runs up to each and every kid, and starts with this: "Hi, my name's Chloe, can I play with you?", and makes friends instantly. Ness is the loner kid, the one who usually prefers to play by himself, but if he's going to play with ANYONE, he sure as hell is gonna try and play with the eleven and twelve year olds. He has never shown interest in playing with boys his own age. He loves his cousin Trent, who is 6. He has no interest in the toilet. I have patiently tried with him. Rewards, targets in the potty, pleading, and he refuses. He will wear his big boy underwear, but I'll be damned if I ask over and over and over again "Ness, you gotta go potty?", he says no, then runs into the kitchen minutes later, and pees on the floor. It's extremely frustrating. I also feel judged when we're out where other small children are, and there are boys smaller than him, who are obviously out of diapers.

You know how bullies were mean in school? Well, other parents can be mean and cruel as well. I haven't had anyone say anything to me yet, but I swear I can feel the eyes of other people as they realize Ness is the same size as Chloe, but in a diaper. I know this seems like such a small thing, nothing to really worry about. It probably is a small thing. It doesn't help I'm being told by one person in particular, "Well, if you weren't working and were home all day like you should be, minding the house and raising your children, you'd probably have him trained by now." Wow. I work maybe 2 days a week now, usually early mornings. I'm home with my kids EVERY day, and I DO try.

Maybe he's not ready yet. I don't understand how he can identify numbers by sight, and count and use his brains in ways that continously blow me away, but I can't get him to simply stand in front of the pot and just GO.

Like I said. Rewards for peeing? Done. Nothing. Targets in the potty to shoot at? Also done, and still nothing. He wants nothing to do with it. At first, he would cry and scream if I tried. Now he doesn't have any reaction, except for the fact that he prefers to pee on my kitchen floor.

I sent this picture to my mother in law tonight over the phone. This was the response I got: "Oh, a lovely picture of the grandchildren, and of course Ness (in his diaper)." Just like that.

This winter funk isn't helping my situation at all. Neither is Chuck's nagging to get Ness out of diapers so that we won't have to buy anymore. I understand that, believe me.

Wow. I feel like this has just been a rant and rave tonight. I guess tonight is my night to vent, since I haven't in a while, and it was building up pretty hardcore.

In other news, I also cannot keep clothes on Ness. THAT, however, is a problem I can deal with. I just turn on the ceiling fan until he's cold and begs me to help him put his clothes back on. That seems to work out just fine.

Chlo is turning out to be a math whiz. She must get it from her father. Oh, and ALLLLL that asian in her. Thank god she doesn't have MY math talents. She'd might as well give up then, and invest in a calculator. I'm a mess when it comes to math.

While I'm on the topic of being a mom and all...

I was taking a crap earlier today, when Ness came into the bathroom crying, because he stubbed his toe and needed a smooch on it. So I kissed his toe.
While I was on the toilet.
Which brings me to other strange things I have done since becoming a mother:

Amused an 18 month old crying Chloe with bubbles, while I was sitting on the toilet.
Went to Walmart at 2am to find the same binkie as the one Ness lost when HE was a baby, JUST so he would go to sleep again.
Taught my daughter how to "crab crawl pee" in the woods when bathrooms weren't available. (Preparing her for the late night outdoor bonfires she may encounter in her early twenties.)
And some other stuff that god I can't remember, but watch, I will after I post this and go to bed, and by then, it'll be too late, and then I'll say fuck it, and then I'll be sad because... well, because.

Hey. Thanks for keeping it real.