bad parenting, the massacre, and us

More evidence of our parenting…

So – Jackson’s head is healing nicely and this is a good thing.  I’m wildly anal about making sure there is sunscreen on his scar at all times.  There are sticks of sunscreen in my purse, his backpack, his baseball bag, and both our cars in addition to the plentiful supply I have in the house.  On Saturday before Jackson had a football game followed by a golf outing with our friend Jamie and Brad and Teddy I put sunscreen on the scar and then headed out to take Teddy to his baseball game.  We met up for lunch between the games and golf and I reminded him and Brad to put more sunscreen on before they went golfing – okay all taken care of, right?  Yeah well.  His scar was white as a ghost at the end of the day but the rest of his face, a vee in his chest and his legs were, however, burnt to a crisp.  Oops.  Poor boy.

The mutant ninja massacre

Wow am I lucky or what?  All three boys went golfing on Saturday and I got to have the house to myself for several house.  It was bliss.  Okay, well… it was going to be bliss.  Seriously.  I even had a small mountain of laundry to do, and I was completely excited about cranking up the tunes and cranking it out while I had The.  House.  To.  Myself!!  Best laid plans and all…

So, there I am, first load in, tunes blaring away, I’m singing at the top of my lungs.  All is right with the world.  I’m wandering around cleaning this, putting that away, thinking of napping, thinking of reading.  You know how it is.  I decide I need some water; I’m suddenly not drinking enough water especially on the weekends.  I practically skip down the stairs and into the kitchen when something out of place catches my eye in the family room.  Our house is really open so you can basically see into all rooms at all times and there’s something scattered on the family room floor.

This isn’t the big surprise it should be.  Have you met my children?  Okay, well maybe not, but let me tell you they are messy little things.  And then there’s the dog – who I’m sure I’ve mentioned I don’t love.  If Bandit gets pissed he gets destructive.  It’s usually some poor hapless stuffed animal and we find tufts of stuffing flung around the house in little piles.  Based on what I’m seeing out of the corner of my eye, I’m thinking I’m going to have Bandit to thank for what I’m about to clean up.  Eh.. I’m alone, life it good.  Bandit can not ruin my mood.

Okay, I was wrong about that.  Big sigh, let’s go pick up whatever needs picking up and move on, shall we… Okay, not so fast.  My behated dog (that’s a new word and it’s maybe my new favorite) has systematically dismembered a turtle - and unfortunately not one of the stuffed persuasion - on the floor of my family room.  There were blood and guts and shell pieces all over the floor.  Every where I looked my horror increased.  It was the single most vile thing I’ve ever seen in my life – but a fair margin.

I am not a typical girl in most situations.  Generally I just roll up my sleeves and do what needs doing.  I’m here to tell you, I met my limit.  I was a total girl.  I started flapping my arms and saying; Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God.  I finally got enough of a hold of myself to get the dog locked outside and to keep from totally losing my cookies.  Then I did what any self respecting girl would do… I went upstairs and hid.  I called Brad and was not surprised to get his voice mail as they were golfing.  I waited a while and called him back and left a very simple, if extremely flat voiced message.  “I need you to call my at your earliest convenience.” 

Of course Brad didn’t get the message until he had pulled into the driveway, but upon hearing how I sounded he called immediately and sent the boys to play instead of letting them come inside.  I told him I’d be right down and once there apologized for being a complete girl (which is new) and explained how I needed him to be the man (which he has no problem with).  He did his best to calm the strange zombie like creature in front of him before he went inside.

He later described it as similar to cleaning a crime scene which I’m hopeful he only knows from watching TV and not from first hand experience, though we’re never ever going to speak of it again so I will never know.

Anyone want a used Jack Russell Terrier?  He’s really cute, I swear he is.

And finally... a family picture

Taken on Easter and not so good of me cuz I’m all leaned back on the slouchy couch – but aren’t my boys cutie-pies???

Just some randomness...

An NSV
So... (why do I start so many sentences with so or okay?) I got this email coupon a couple of weeks ago from Lee.com for 50% off everything for one day plus free shpping.  First of all I now feel like a heel for not posting that information and promise I will next time I learn of something like that.  But anyway, Lee jeans and pants fit my curves particularly well.  I have an hourglass shape and their pants do a nice job of not gapping at the waist and they're flattering too.  Anyway... I thought it would be stupid not to take advantage of this deal as my size 18Ws are getting way too baggy even right out of the dryer.  So I spent just over $100 and got 5 pairs of pants in varying sizes.  I got 2 16Ws (one jean and one black pant I could wear on a casual day to work) thinking I could wear those right now, an 18 regular (a 2nd pair of jeans) thinking I could also probably wear those right now and 2 regular 16s (one jean and one pant I could wear to work) thinking I'd have some wardrobe basics available to me in (hopefully) the not too distant future.  Well... today I put on the 16W black pants thinking they'd probably still be a touch too tight and I'd still have to wait another week or two... but no.  They fit fine.  I happily got dressed and headed to work.  AND in just the couple of hours I've had them on, they've really stretched out (not in a bad way, just in the way pants do) and OMG, they're a tad baggy.  They're certainly fine to wear, but it's really not going to be for long.  I'm definitely going to have to go home and try on the regular 16s which I haven't done, I think if I'm too close to fitting into them, I may try to exchange them for 14s so I have a longer term goal to achieve.... hmmmm, but yay!

The 'crazy' legacy continues
I swear to God my younger son is me in cute little boy form.  Of course I'm my mom in chubby middle aged woman form so it shouldn't be that surprising.  But he is just the goofiest thing I've ever known.  He will randomly throw out totally nonsensical things for no particular reason.  Last night I was putting him to bed and he kept saying things like... "12 small cokes" or "hello gov'ner" (in a snappy little english accent).  Sometimes at bed time we'll just have these stupid conversations... him: small flies, me:orange mist, him: butterfly, me: cookies, him: target practice... we keep going until one of us has to pause and think about it before we answer.  We've never discussed the rules of this game - it just started one day and we both knew how to play, and when it's over we know who won and just move on.  Or he'll just walk up and randomly poke you while he says "poke" in a quiet flat voice (of course I do the same thing to my husband - it's his favorite, really it is).  Unfortuantely he's also the most stuborn human alive (though my husband swears on all that's Holy that he's only the second most stubborn human alive (can you all guess who he thinks is number 1?))  So sometimes he'll dig in his heels and keep doing what he shouldn't or refuse to do what he should for way, way longer than anyone else I know... poke poke poke poke poke.  Should I be proud or horrified that the crazy continues?

Teddy's thumb
It was his thumb that the dog bit the other day.  Bandit's top teeth were on his thumb nail and his bottom teeth were on the side of his thumb.  The side where the real cut is, is healing nicely, though he'll definitely have a scar.  He's on antibiotics and antibiotic cream since it's his right hand and it touches everything so he'll be fine.  BUT OMG his thumb nail has this crack right through it about a quarter of an inch from the bottom.  You know how if you have longish nails and you do something and your nail breaks really low and it's horrifying because it hurts and you just know if it comes off the rest of the way it's going to hurt WAY worse.  Well this isn't hurting him like that yet, but it hurts me to look at it.  The whole nail bed is slowly turning purple, I'm assuming on it's way to black, and I just don't want to even think about what could be coming for him.  He has no frame of reference for that pain so he's fine with it and I'm hoping that the body will create a protective undercoat before the nail falls off, but it's seriously hard for me to even look at it when I'm putting the cream on.

What a day! But the upside was I got to meet Linda and Bonnie!!

So... it all started with an appointment with m PCP at 9:15am.  I got up and did 40 min on the treadmill, showered, talked to the contractor, packed my lunch and was pulling out of the driveway at 9:00am on the dot.  I was feeling all kinds of proud of myself - that was exactly when I wanted to leave as my doctor is less than five minutes from my house... perfect.  I'm heading down the main street of my neighborhood when a little notification pops up on my phone.  I look down and what does it say?  Dr. appt - 9:00am.  FUCK!  Okay, well, as I said I'm only 5 min to her door so I floor it, thinking I'll be a couple of minutes late and oh well...  I get to the end of the road, check for cars and accelerate out of the turn out of my neighborhood... except... oops... perhaps I was a little over excited as I hit the curb at about 20 MPH and climbing.  "That's gonna leave a mark."

I keep going, waiting for the tire to flatten which doesn't happen.  I get there only to realize it was my alarm reminding me 15 min early for my 9:freaking:15 appointment.  Ok - well I'm there in plenty of time...  I didn't even look to see what I'd done to my car.  Great appointment - she gives me a name of a different lap band doctor she's heard nothing but really good things about - so say goodbye to insane phentermine man - and off I go.

Get to work, get stuff done.  Oh wait - idiot boy in the office - the one who thinks he's all that - he sends and email to the President of my company about our AR person who reports to me.  Let me first say that this woman was born to collect money.  She is flat out brilliant at it.  The CEO is more than half in love with her (which is actually true and a whole different story) the President, the CFO, me, and the presidents of all our divisions all think she walks on water.  The CEO just came to me and insisted she get a raise (see comment above).  Anyway - idiot boy likes to puff out his chest whenever possible and in this case, instead of asking the AR person to also give her reports to him, he created this long story about this shit and that shit and sent it directly to not her, not her supervisor, not her boss's boss, but the President of our company, cc-ing the President of his division.  Jesus God I hate stupid people.  Like if you want to make someone look bad, perhaps you should pick someone the CEO isn't in love with and someone who isn't brilliant at her job by every measure that counts!  Of course the President just forwarded it to me, as he's usually a sane sort, and said please respond to idiot boy (Okay he didn't really say that, but I'm sure that's what he meant).  It ended up all fine of course, but jeez it took some stupid time out of my day which I didn't have to give.  Did I mention I seriously hate stupid people!

Okay - then I head out in the late afternoon to take the deposit to the bank and guess what??

My tire is flat.  Look, you can even see where my rim is messed up there near the bottom on the left.  Oops... did I tell you I had a history of incidents with curbs that jump out and get right in my way while driving.  No?  Well, good, never mind then.

Okay, forget about the bank, someone else can go.  Am I fully capable of changing my tire.  Yes, absolutely.  Am I remotely willing to do so if there is another option.  Not so much.  This is what I pay AAA for, right?  I give them a call, and out they send a very cute, tow truck guy who comes out and puts a little donut on the front of my car and all is well....

Until I get back into my office and my husband calls.

Brad: Teddy is okay

this is never ever a good way to start a conversation.

Me: okay (I can hear they're in a car and I'm thinking they're on the way to the hospital - thank God I have the donut!!)

B: And he wants you to know that it isn't Bandit's fault at all, it's 100% his fault.  He was very insistent that I tell you that.

M: OMG, what the hell happened?

B: Bandit bit him.  We're on the way back from the doctor and they decided not to give him stitches... yadda, yadda, yadda.

M: what happened.

B: Ted had Bandit in his lap and and was tapping a pencil on the table getting Bandit to pounce on it so they could play tug of war.  And eventually Bandit got more than the pencil.  There were several chewed up pencils on the table so this "game" had been going on a while.

M: so our brain trust of a son was holding a pencil while teaching the dog to bite said pencil?

B: that about covers it.

M: is it wrong to comment on his stupidity?

B: I hope not.

But then to the best part of the day!!!  I got to have dinner with Linda and Bonnie!!!  Woo Hoo!!

It was so fun and they are so wonderful.  Though I do have to comment that they met early and had at least one drink before I got there... hmph.   They more than made up for it, though, by having a drink for me already ordered before I walked in the door.  You know you're going to have some common ground when they don't blink an eye at ordering you a drink when you beg for one by text even though they've never met you before!  As many of you already know, it's so nice to be out with people you don't have to... hide this band thing from... and that's not exactly the right way to put it - but it's just one of many parts of who you are and what you do in your life and it's as likely to come up in conversation as your stupid children or your crazy pets.

So thanks so much for a lovely evening and I certainly hope I didn't scare them off and we can do it again one of these days!

Just another typical evening in our asylum... I mean house

It was a lovely evening. I got home at about a quarter to six where Dan and I were set to do the "tag, you're it" thing as he was heading down to Washington for a two day conference. The evil wonder dog who just hates it when someone (anyone) leaves the house is barking up a storm to show his extreme displeasure. Dan and I have to execute a last minute fantasy football trade so I actually have a QB that's starting this week. The idiot dog keeps barking. The pasta Dan started has to be finished. The dog is stepping up his efforts. The kitchen table that somehow got piled with all manner of non dinner-like things gets cleared. The dog keeps barking. Fights are broken up (okay, that's a bit strong). The dog keeps barking. The dinner is finished and set out. The dog keeps barking. Brad's finally ready to get the Hell out of dodge in the barest of moments before I commit canine-acide. Finally with Brad actually gone and no longer leaving the stupid dog finally shuts the *&%% up.

The boys have been in a mood all evening long. I haven't yet had a chance to change out of my work clothes. They are alternating between playing very loud gags on each other and screaming "MOM, MAKE HIM LEAVE ME ALONE" They are trading off who is doing the yelling and who is doing the gags. It's very fun. I sit down and work with Jason on his project due Friday, get the kids dessert and the kitchen back in some semblance of order (not clean mind you, that would be far, far too much to ask for tonight). They want me to move my car so they can play basketball and I think hallelujah a minute of peace. I move the car they go outside. They come back within 3 minutes - 'Hey mom, there's a guy outside who wants to talk to you.' Oh, did I mention the dog is barking again - there are humans outside. Maybe they're leaving. He must bark just in case he can convince someone not to leave.

I go outside, I still haven't changed my clothes. Some high school kid wants to sell me something - some version of a coupon book I think, but man he gives me the worst - and I do mean the worst pitch ever. "Man this is totally cool!"  I cut him off and tell him I'm not interested. "Dude, you can't be serious!" "I am, and now it's dark. Boys, it's time to come inside." I think he might have continued to blather on about something, but I was already heading inside. (Parents, teach your kids how to pitch the stupid things they have to sell. Start with an introduction. Something that sounds remotely polite - geesh) Anyway... The boys beg to finish the game they're playing, I give them three more minutes (really more for me than for them).

And then the crying started. In comes Tommy with his hands over his mouth crying hard. I open my arms to take him in, he shifts his hands and there's blood everywhere. I quickly change tactics because there's really no reason to get blood all over my favorite white shirt that I still haven't taken off yet. But alas, as I lead him to the sink to see what we're dealing with I see I wasn't fast enough and my right shoulder is covered in blood - woo hoo. It's just a small cut from his tooth on his bottom lip. Jason who ran in right behind him is upset that he hurt his brother. "I'm so so so sorry, I didn't mean to hit him in the face, I was just throwing it back to him." Jason can't stand still. Nor can he shut up. Oh wait - guess what, the dog is barking. There's a lot of commotion going on in the kitchen; Tom crying, Jay apologizing, Mom calming... There's much to bark about.

I got a dish towel on his mouth while I went to get ice. I begged the dog to shut the $@T% up. I tried to calm Jason and get him to stop talking. But then Tom decides threatening his brother is the best course of action. So every time I turn my back to get ice or kick I mean pet the dog, Tom does something like shake his fist at Jay, or lunge towards him. Jay is near tears, periodically crying out in terror. He already feels guilty and now he's scared too. OKAY - EVERYONE SHUT THE &*&% UP! Okay I didn't really yell that, but I wanted to; really, really wanted to. "Jason, I know you didn't mean to make him bleed, but go upstairs and read." One down. Kill the dog (why can't I do that? - that would have been two down). Get ice on Tommy's lip and get him cleaned up. Okay Tom, let's go upstairs and get ready for bed. He goes up before me while I close the garage door and close down the first floor.

By the time I get upstairs Jason is crying and holding a ripped book. "Tom ripped my book on purpose" Well this does go with the threatening behavior downstairs, he doesn't usually go towards book ripping, but he's certainly been known to wreck Jay's Lego projects in the past. "Tommy that wasn't necessary, you know better than that." This is my calm and reasonable facade, the one that hides the raging homicidal lunatic that is begging and pleading to come out. "But it was an accident Mom, I promise." It sounds like he's telling the truth, but of course so does the crying Jason in the other corner.

Mom: You know what Tom, this is something you'd do. I don't know if you did it this time, but it's the kind of rude and obnoxious behavior that have been your hallmark for the past few months, so it's really hard for me to believe you that this one time you happened to not mess up something of Jason's, especially after the way you were threatening him downstairs.

Tom: But he bloodied my lip.

M: You know perfectly well he would never intend to hurt you like that.
He gives me the look that clearly says "Mom, you've got to be kidding me".

M: No more than you would try to hurt him that way, would you ever intentionally try to make him bleed.

I was really hoping and praying he'd think about it before he answered vs. just letting his pride answer. He did, phew.

T: okay, no I wouldn't.

M: and neither did he.

He reluctantly agreed with me but is now totally pissed at me because I just won't outright believe ripping the book was an accident. He keeps looking at me with the "my mom is calling me a liar to my face" puppy dog eyes.

Oh well... This too shall pass.

Okay - vent over.