Eat it, becasue it is green and I said so!

Why do foods that are so good for you, have to be completely disgusting? 

This morning I was giving my toddlers their morning snack, they were having raisins, applesauce and a cereal bar, and I looked for something healthy for me to get me through to lunch.  I found some fruit pouches that I had bought for the kids.  They advertised, "With Chia Seeds!  More amino acids, more antioxidents! Sustained energy! Only 60 calories!" I thought, "Sweet!  That will work."  I twisted off the cap and sucked up some fruit puree with chia seeds......

Ick.....just ick.  It tasted like I was eating blackberry seeds covered in slime.  Like I just took a cupful of tadpole eggs and sucked them up a straw!  I mean the fruit flavor was there, but the texture was too much like snot with crunchy bits in it.  I gagged and threw it away.  Which led me to think, why oh why do all of the things that are good for us, that our bodies need to function, taste like crap?

Take Kale.  I know it is good for you.  It is a superfood.  It is green, and has all those awesome nutrients and vitamins, but it just tastes like I picked a bunch of random woody green leaves and put them in a bowl.  I have tried to love kale.  I baked it and seasoned it because, "It tastes a lot like potato chips."  Uuummm, what kind of chips are you eating???  I have never in my life tasted a chip like that.  I have also tried adding it to soup because "It holds up better than other leafy greens like spinach."  Umm, nope, still slimey.  And I even tried baby kale in salad.  Even an entire bottle of ranch dressing could not cover up the bitterness.  Blech. 

Now how about Sweet potatoes?  Sweet potatoes are a superfood, right?  Too bad they are only really good with loads of butter, cinnamon, and brown sugar so that essentally you are eating pie as a side dish.  mmm, pie....

Whole wheat pasta.  Now granted, I can't even eat regular pasta with all of it's gluten anymore, but when I did, I was given the advice to switch to whole wheat, because "no one will notice the difference and it will add proitein and fiber to my family's diet".  This person needs their taste buds checked, because there is a HUGE difference in the taste.  It is heavy and dense and harder to chew.  Like trying to eat a forkful of garden hoses.  Even sauce can't hide the grittier texture to it.  Now all I can eat is corn pasta, and honestly, even IT tastes more like regular pasta than whole wheat does.

Tofu.  Please don't tell me that I am just not making it right, because it takes on whatever flavor you

cook it in.  That may very well be, but just because I marinate tofu in steak sauce, does not make this nastiness a steak. And you are not fooling me with tofurkey, or tofu crumbles, or tofu sausage or hot dogs either.  I know when I am eating a hot dog and when I am eating a tofu dog. One is yummy and an American tradition, the other is a meat free abomination.

I am not a picky eater by any means.  There are very few things that I will not eat.  Besides the items aforementioned, the only other thing I do not eat are oysters and mussles.  I am sorry, but Jim Gaffigan said it best:
 "Some guy found the first oyster and said, 'I found a rock that has a snot in it.'
 'Well what are you going to do with it?'
 'I'm gonna eat it.'
 'How's it taste?'
 'Like Pneumonia.'" 

I just cannot get past that texture.  People have said, "Oh just cover it with cheese and hot sauce, shoot it down the back of your throat and chase it with a shot of vodka."  I like cheese, I like hot sauce, and Lord knows I like vodka, but why can't I just have all of those things separately and skiip the gag reflex? 

And conversely, why do all of the things that taste so good, that our brains are drawn to wanting more of, are so very very bad for you?  I don't even have enough time to make a list of the food that will kill us.  But come on, Bacon?  Buffalo Wings?  Cheese?  Sausage?  Cheesecake?  Chocolate?  Why do these things have to be so bad for you?  It seems like something happened to our brains, some kind of weird wiring happened and all of a sudden the things we are supposed to eat and that are supposed to be good for us, became bad tasting, and the things that are bad for us and are supposed to be avoided, taste like heaven. 

They are called comfort foods for a reason.  They are not called, "get into those skinny jeans" foods.  They are comforting for when you are in pain, because you are sad because you are fat because you ate too many of those yummy foods, the same foods that you are shoving in your face to comfort yourself about.  There has to be a reason our brains like it so much. 

But I will say, if you can make kale, or chia seeds taste like bacon or chocolate, I will jump on board.  Until then, I will have to keep taking my vitamins.  They are gummy bears by the way.  See, SOMEONE got the memo that you can make bad tasting things taste like candy!

This one time....at an elementary band concert.....

Monday my son, Your royal highness, had his 5th grade band concert.

And let me just say before I get into this, I have a very very strong appreciation for band.  I played in

band from the time I was in 5th grade, all the way through college.  I met my husband at high school band camp, and almost all of my friends can be traced back to meeting at band, or some other sort of musical or theatrical endeavor that I was a part of at some time in my life.  Band is in my DNA.  Band is a part of me. This one time at band camp?  YES, I  have those stories (probably not as exciting as some of the racier stories in American Pie, but stories none the less).  So just know, I LOVE the arts, I LOVE band, and the fact that my son wanted to play in it in any capacity made me squeal like a little school girl, and weep tears of pride.

Also.  If you were to ask me who the best trumpet player in the entire world was, at this moment in time, I would proudly hold up a framed photo of my son playing his trumpet and say, "This redhead right here thank you very much."  So please no letters or posts in the comment section about what a terrible mother I am to post such a ranty blog about elementary school music concerts, and do I have a heart at all.  Yes I do, I love my child, he is wonderful and amazing, and all of that mom junk.  Back off.

To start this, I had to go to this concert, on my birthday.  My BIRTHDAY.  So there was no birthday dinner out.  There was barely time for cake after the dinner that I had to make  myself on my birthday, because people in this school district are complete freaks about showing up early to get a good seat, and apparently there is also a shortage of chairs at our elementary school. The concert started at 6:30, so we figured we would be wise to get there at 6, so we could sit up front and see our beloved.  We walked in, and I knew in an instant we did not arrive early enough.  The gym was packed!  What time did these freaks get there?  Did they just pack a picnic dinner and camp out right after the bell rang?  We were half an hour early, and we were in the back row!  What the heck??  Then to make matters worse, they didn't use ANY RISERS.  So we would be able to hear YRH play, but we were not going to be able to see diddly squat, because of all of the heads of the over acheivers that gathered here at 6 in the morning like it was opening night for a Star Wars movie.

I looked at the program, and not only was this for the band, but it was for the 4th grade orchestra, the 5th grade orchestra, the 5th grade band, the 3rd grade choir, the 4th grade choir, AND THE 5th GRADE CHOIR!!!  And everyone had like 5 songs!!

Now anyone who is even remotely familiar with kid performances always looks at the program and
does that kid performance math,"Okay, so 5 songs per group, times 3 or 4 minutes per song, equals.....holy hell!!  We are going to be here forever!!!"  And this is not like a high school performance where it might be even remotely well executed.  These kids are still really really early in the learning process of their instruments.  There are so many squeaks and squonks and screeches in just the band, let alone listening to the never ending flats and sharps of the violins that make you fluctuate from feeling depressed when they are flat, to wanting to break their violin when they are sharp, to the point that you are questioning your own knowledge of pitch by the end of the performance ("The whole thing couldn't have been that awful, could it?  Is there something wrong with my ears?  Am I tone deaf?  Or am I just entirely deaf after that?")

Meanwhile, as I am doing kid performance math in my head,  people keep filing in, and there is no where else to sit, so all of these moms and dads and realtives (grandmas and grandpas and extended family) are all standing in this elementarty lunchroom/gym and the body heat level is just rising.  It was gettng pretty hot and humid pretty fast.  The walls were sweating.

The teacher for orchestra gets up, and honestly, I think she must be cloistered in her rehearsal room by herself too much, because this woman LOVED the sound of her own voice.  She talked and talked, and talked about what the 4th graders have learned and how far they have come.  And then when they began to play, my only thought was, "Oh my god, if they are this bad NOW, what did they sound like BEFORE???"  The final song was not on the program, so she said, "Let's see if you can guess what this next song is."  I have to be honest.  They were playing the song "Dynamite", and I had NO idea what it was they were playing.  At all. It just sounded like a car riding extremely squeaky breaks in a rolling stop at a stop sign.

The 5th grade orchestra gets up there.  At one point the teacher, in a very long winded explanation, calls up her 3 soloists to do "Music from Harry Potter".  It was supposed to be the opening music from the movie. Three cats having a fight in an alley.  They groaned their way through it, as did I, and finaly it was time for my baby.

5th grade band!  I was so far back I couldn't see a thing, so I held up my sister's camera on her phone and zoomed in and could just make out the carrot top between two stands.  And just when they were counting off, the band director shifts over two paces and is RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SHOT!!  Dang it!!  So I did not SEE my baby perform, but I knew from listening that he was amazing and was perfect and wonderful, and better than all of the rest of the kids.

By this time my toddlers were at maximum capacity for staying even remotely close to our seats.  They were trying to lay down, they were climbing all over the chair, sliding in and out of the hole in the back of the chair, hopping from one lap to another.  After my baby boy was done performing, I looked at the clock.  It was 7:30.  We had already been there for an hour and a half, and they were only half way done with this concert!!  Oh. My. Gosh.

The admiral looked at me, and without saying it, we knew that this might end up turning into the boat ride from vacation all over again if we didn't do something about it.  He gets up, and says tersely, "I am going to take them in the hall way to run around.  Stay here and get YRH after the concert is over."

Now the choir portion was a bit more entertaining than the orchestra, because most of these kids had been using their voices all of their lives and so had, in fact, perfected the use of it, so the pitch was a little more on target, making me not want to swing alternating moods of suicide, then aggravated assault.  So it passed a little more quickly.  But the only parts that didn't were the directors.  I am not sure, but I seriously think that it must be in the job description that if you are a director, teacher, or group leader for children in some area, when it comes time to give an opening statement, you are officially crowned Johnny Public Speaker, and are commissioned to just drone on and on about everything you did all year.  Look honey, we get it.  You had to listen to this all year, and now want to make us as miserable as you were by showing us what it felt like to be inescapably trapped like you were.  But darlin, we came to see our kids play, not hear you talk.  We had to hear them rehearse at home all year, we KNOW how far they have come.  You did great.  I will get you a gift card to BW3's for a drink after the concert if you will just get off the mic and start waving your arms.  It is hot in here and Gramma Fanny behind me has been standing since 6:20, and her poor varicose veins are about to implode.  Let's speed up this rodeo shall we?

The show ended at 8:10, almost 2 hours after it began.  I collect the boy, and go out and find my husband and toddlers are in the van watching a movie.  They WERE in the hallway running up and down, but apparently they started rolling around on the floor, and were rolling through what the Admiral deemed as blood, and he got grossed out and decided containment was key to survival at that point.  (Though I will say, it could have been blood, but chances are it was probably paint or marker, or jelly or some other kid goo.  Admiral does has a little bit of a germ thing, so in his eyes, it was foreign, so it had to be blood or some other life threatening pathogen, and the children must be saved.)

So for my birthday this year, this was my celebration.  And yes it was long, and hot, and loud, and awful, but for my kid, I would do it again in a heartbeat.  I do want to make a recommendation to the school for the future.

1) SEPARATE the grades PLEASE!  Have a performance for just the 3rd grade, and then just the 4th grade and then a special one for the graduating 5th grade.  They are going off to middle school, to never be a little child again, so a little bit of exclusiveness in this area is really not going to hurt any one, and it would seriously cut down on time. There also just might be a chair available for Gramma Fanny to sit down on too.

2) TIME LIMITS on teacher's talking.  Let's treat it like the Oscars, and after 30 seconds, have the band play them off with some music.

You implement these practices, and I can guarantee happy parents and happy kids, and then maybe just maybe I will have time to go out and eat a dinner on my birthday that I did NOT have to cook myself, and also not have to inhale my cake. (of which I also made myself. Businesses, there are gluten intolerant people that need to celebrate birthdays too, it would be nice to have bakery cakes that are gluten free!!  But that is a post for another time.....)

Objects in the mirror may be closer than you think...

It has come to that time in a young woman's life again.  Time to get some new clothes.

As a mom, and woman in her late 30's, I have come to notice a few things about myself and the way I veiw my body.....

I DON'T want to view my body.

I have been doing the Weight Watchers for quite a while now, and it has come to the point where my clothes are starting to get a little ridiculous looking.  They are too big, they are hanging off of me, and I keep having to hitch up my pants.  In fact, a while back whilst walking in the Target, my pants actually fell down.  Thank God I was not in an aisle with anyone else, because that would have just been humiliating. For that person.   

I am still hanging on to my old clothes because, well, they are just super comfortable now.  They

were always super tight before, and now they are so roomy!  I like that my yoga pants are so loose that they get all twisted up on me when I am sleeping at night.  I like that my shirt is loose enough that I can pull my knees up under it when I am cold and make a little heat tent for myself.  I love that my jeans actually feel like pajama jeans now even though they are not.

But yesterday the admiral was looking at me, with what I thought was a 'hey baby' look, and just as I went walk over to him to wrap my arms around his neck, he says, "You think it may be time to go buy some new clothes?  What is going on with that shirt?  And your jeans are super baggy in the butt."  Mood sufficiently killed.

Had I not been with this man since we were 15 years old, I would have been all offended probably, but at this point in our lives, there are bigger fish to fry in the offensive pool, than just a comment about clothes.

I went over to the mirror and took a look, and for the first time I realized how bad it was. 

I looked homeless. 

This is what my husband, kids, and people I babysit for have been looking at for a long time now.
Time to go shopping.

But this is the thing.  I haaaaaaaaaate shopping for myself. I do.  I turn into Ebeneezer Scrooge, and my purse clenches tighter than Gollum guarding his 'precious'. 

This is how it will inevitably go down:

I will get all of the kids to bed, because I refuse to shop for clothes with any kind of baggage over my head, including texts from the admiral of "where is?", "How do I?", and "What do they?" .  I do not want to be interrupted from my well deserved personal hell to answer questions about the little people who are the cause of the havoc wreaked on my body.  I do not need the reminder that I am a mother of four, and have the abs to prove it.

I will then head out to my favorite place to feel depressed about clothes, Old Navy.  I shop there, because honestly, they sometimes carry the size I need, and most of the time, they have bright colors, and I look much better in bright colors.  Bright fat is much prettier to look at than black, grey, or beige fat.  And the commercials are pretty awesome, right?  All of these cute model type people looking all perfect and amazing in it.  Having fun family time on vacation, or having a picnic or swimming together.  "Come shop here, and we will give you the life you always wanted!"  I fall for it every time. 

I will spend the first 15 minutes I am there trying to convince myself that it is ok to look at the regular rack, instead of heading right to clearance.  I love the clearance rack, but the problem is I need summery type clothes, and right now, clearance is all winter stuff.  I don't need that.  But when I get there, I am compelled to shop it, and end up coming home with 5 long sleeve shirts to wear in the 90 degree humid weather we have here in Ohio.  No good.

I finally talk myself out of clearance, and head over to look at shorts.

I look all over for just the right pair of shorts, in my size, in a color I like, that are not too short, and not to long, (being short with Corgi legs, this is a feat in and of itself), and shorts that 'speak' to me.  "Come buy me!  We will do things together!  We will be fun, and play games, and go to the beach together!  It will be a summer to remember if you spend it with me!"  

I find that unicorn, that pair of shorts that are all of these things.  Adorable pattern, perfect length, possibly my size, and shouting "We will make beautiful memories together this summer!"  I head to the back, to try them on.

Side note here, what is UP with those little kiosk looking changing rooms with the curtain in the middle of the shopping area?  Any crazy person can walk buy and just open that thing!  This is a terrible idea, and when I have kids with me, I will never ever ever set foot in one of those things.  That is just asking for a YouTube video of my naked butt!

I get back there and take off my shoes,
take off my pants,
and pull on the shorts.

The first thing I notice is, my hairy white-as-snow legs with all of the awesome blue veins just screaming out for some kind of sun.  It is like my legs are gasping at the light, "NOO!!!  It stings!  Put the jeans back on!"  I then fasten the shorts, (most of the time you can insert the word 'try' here as well.) which are probably too tight, and look at my muffin top.  I sigh, because in my head when I picked these out I could envision myself wearing these.  Now as I look at myself busting out of them like a can of biscuits, I am unhappy because I am:  a) not as far along as I thought I was in the weight loss, and b)bummed because there are no bigger sizes available. However,  Kiki the clerk says there will be more in later in the month. 

Now I am standing here bummed because I look like this in these shorts, bummed because I have to go back out there and look again, bummed because Kiki is a size 2, 22 years old, and doesn't know anything about having kids, and is looking at me with pity on her face, to which I know in her head she is thinking 'poor old lady', and I don't want to even be shopping for clothes in the first place!

I take the shorts off, and I watch myself in front of the largest mirror in the history of mirrors.  I see every ripple, roll, and stretch mark, every lump of cellulite,  as I wiggle out of these shorts that once were so cute to me, and now I view these shorts as a betrayal.  I think to myself, "Look at you, shorts, you looked so cute and adorable on the shelf.  You lured me in, shorts. I fell for it.  I did.  You told me I would be prettier with you on.  You and I were going to do things together this summer.  You and me shorts, against the world.  But it was all just a ploy to get me naked in a room full of mirrors.  You are the worst kind of evil, shorts.  I abhor you. I refuse to let you do this to any other woman!"  as I hang them as crookedly as possible back on the hanger, letting the true size and shape of them show, no tucking of the waistband into itself to make it look smaller on the rack.  It will be seen for its true nature!

I will go through this about 80 more times. I will maybe find a pair or two of shorts that are ok, but not awesome, and a couple of shirts that aren't terrible, but mostly I end up leaving the store poorer, and pretty depressed. 

I do, however,  feel like Old Navy knows what they are doing, though. They know that most of the women leaving their store are going to walk out feeling pretty awful about themselves.  How do I know this? Because right outside of the parking lot, there is a McDonalds with their giant sign for a "McCafe!!" and a Krispie Kreme with their "Hot Donut" sign blazing bright red. 

Bastards. 

How did this happen??

So, I know how other people go around thinking that all of the people around them are morons, or saying things like "I am surrounded by idiots" and the like.  Well, I am here to say, I am sorry.

I am the moron. 

I don't know when this happened.  I don't know how this came to be.  I used to be a smart person.  I was.  I had my schmidt together.  I was in the flow.  I knew stuff.  But now, all of a sudden, I seem to be doing a lot of apologizing lately, and for good reason!  I am to blame! 

I am not telling you all of this to get sympathy.  So please do not feel the need to shower me with compliments.  If anything, this is a blanket apology to everyone, and the only response sought out is, "It's ok.  We forgive you." 

Here are some scenarios:

*You are in line at the drive through, and it is completely filled up.  The line is out to the street.  You think there is room for you to get into the parking lot from the street without blocking traffic, because  everyone is moving up one place quickly, and in another second, you are in.  So you pull up, but all of a sudden the movement stops, and now you ARE blocking traffic.  You look, and there is one car that did not move up, and there is a space there, where if they did move up, you would be out of the way.  But she is looking behind her at the back seat so she doesn't see it, so now your butt is hanging out into oncoming traffic. 

That lady up there is me.  And I am yelling at my kids to quit kicking each other. Sorry about that.

*Ok, now you are in line at the grocery.  You have only 5 things.  You get in line, and ahead of you is a lady who has the entire belt full, and more in the cart.  But it is going quickly so you decide to wait.  She gets to the end, and when it comes time to pay, they ask her for her customer loyalty number, and password.  It takes her 4 tries because she forgot that she put the number under he cell phone number instead of her home phone number, and it keeps getting rejected. 

Again.  That lady is me.  I apologize.

*You are at a stop light.  The red light is taking a really really long time.  All of a sudden it turns green!  Finally!  But you aren't moving yet.  What is the hold up?  The light quickly turns yellow and then red again!!

Um, it is me, and I was daydreaming because this is the first moment I have been alone away from noise in three weeks, and I forgot where I was for a moment. I am sorry, please don't hate me.


*You are in Target.  It is a busy Saturday morning.  There are lots of shoppers in here, and as you head up the main walkway headed toward the back, you are stopped by a mom and her children who have made a human barrier across the aisle, holding hands, as they walk at the snails pace her toddler's have set.  To add insult to injury the littlest one keeps stopping to jump over each and every colored line that he finds.  There is no way around, and you need to get back there.  So you continue to follow, cursing the lady under your breath.

Umm, again me.  Sorry.  Some other moron with only one child took the last cart that had enough  the seats for all of my kids to fit in, so because the girls are walking, little man wants to walk.  Trust me if he didn't get to walk too, there would be much wailing and gnashing of teeth.  This is our best option, but I am sorry.

And finally
*You are at a party for March madness at a friend's house.  All of a sudden the doorbell rings.  Your friend (the host)  disappears for a moment outside, then returns and is headed toward you.  "Hey man, the lady outside apparently was backing out of her driveway and accidentally ran into your car that was parked across the street from her.  She wants you to come out and see it so she can exchange information with you. 

sigh......yes.  Me again.  I don't know what to say.  The Admiral was going to stay home with the littles so I could go visit my family that was in town, and I had made cupcakes.  As Your royal highness and I were leaving, I guess I completely ignored my BACK UP CAMERA, because I was concerned my cupcakes were going to fall.  As I looked at YRH to tell him to hold them so they didn't fall, I hear the sickening crunch.  There are no words for this amount of sorry.

So there you have it.  That person out there you are furious at in the store, or in traffic, it is me.  I am sorry.  Please just understand, I don't get out in public much, and when I do, I guess I just don't know how to act anymore.  Plus most of the time I am on limited sleep, or I have a bunch of IHP's with me (for you rookies, that is Indoor homeless people) so I am distracted.  If you could grant me some grace instead of yelling at me, or breathing your breathy sighs in my direction, you would make my day.  Thanks!

Don't........say it.

There are a lot of things that we mothers with  big families have to endure.  It is tough being the CEO of 5 other people, a house, and a useless dog.  I have to be organized (of which I am not), and on time (of which I am not), and proactive (well, you get the picture....).  I have to be a master juggler, keeping all plates spinning, all balls in the air.  If I should drop one, all hell will break loose.

We as mothers of large families have a lot on our plate, and it may not always be obvious on the outside to other people, but we usually do have our schmidt together, even thought it may not look like it.  I call it controlled chaos.  It may be hard as a person outside of this looking in, who either may have no children, or whose children are all grown with the privilege of having a wonderfully nostalgic way of looking at the hell life that I am living, to know just what to say and not say.

  I am here to make it easier on you!  Here is a users guide of do's and don'ts for what to say to a mom with a large family in tow.

Don't Say:
"Boy, you sure have your hands full!"

Really?  Are you serious?  First of all, this is completely obvious and does nothing but remind me that my life is completely spinning out of control right now.  Yes, my hands are full.  How about instead of this useless comment, you come help me out by grabbing a half used tissue out of my pocket and wiping Little man's snot off his face so I have a minute to push the hair out of my eyes, as I am holding onto two little girls hands with one hand, pushing a cart and holding a purse with the other, and barking orders to Your Royal highness pushing yet another cart behind me while he continually hits me in the back of the heels with his cart.  Yes.  My hands are indeed full.  Plus what is the proper response to this???  "Oh, I didn't know!  Thank you!"  Just don't.  Please.

Do say:
"Can I get the door for you?"

 Most of the time my hands are indeed full.  Holding a door for me
would be amazing, because most of the time I push it with my butt while holding onto three toddlers at the same time, and trying not to lose my purse off my arm because it WILL smash one of them in the face. (poor little man, it is almost always him.  Kid is going to have PTSD walking through doors.)

Don't Say: 
"Are they all yours?"

Because what I want to say is, "Yes, but all different fathers."

Do say:
"You have a beautiful famly."

Because yes, I do have a beautiful family, and really I need to be reminded of it at times so that I don't go all crazy white girl on them in the Target.

Don't say:
"You have a lot of kids."

Because my response to you WILL be "Yeah, my husband and I really like sex, so........" OR "Well what else are you supposed to do with 10 extra minutes?"" I have done this on many occasions and it really ends up just embarrassing the other person.  Because I have had 4 children, there is nothing at all sacred anymore, I will not be even phased by this comment. I have had more strangers in the hospital see the holiest of holies, touch my boobs, and poke and prod me, that I have no shame anymore.  I have had my kids open the door to my bathroom stall in public on me, lift my shirt in front of strangers, and completely unsnap my bra while I was wearing it before. I had an entire 30 minute conversation on the playground with another mom about Urinary Tract Infections, sore nipples, and incontinence just last summer, and I don't even know this chick's name.

Do Say:
"Can I help you out to the car?"

 Because chances are, I would really really love some help navigating all of them, and my groceries through the parking lot without losing anyone for once.

Don't Say:
"Cherish every moment.  They will be all grown up before you know it."

  Ok.  I understand you really mean well, and that it does go by
quickly.  I do.  I really really do.  My oldest just turned 10 and then i realized that in a month he will be 11.  It does seem to go fast.  But when I am in the middle of toddler hell, being held hostage to my house by the dictators of naptime, with no hope of ransom; or I am on my 5th day without a shower because I have calls to make, or chores to do, or just because it is either shower, or watch Glee on DVR; or I am pushing my cart through the Target with one screaming bawling 2 year old, and twins that keep kicking each other just for the sake of kicking each other, and the oldest is repeating over and over 'can we just go home? How much loooooonger?' and I am just trying to make it through the store and get groceries and clothes for these little ingrates; or when I am at the park trying to drag these children away who do not want to come home, and one breaks free and I have to chase them thus losing the other two that I did have a hold on........I can not physically cherish these moments at this time.  And I will most likely have visions of murdering you in my head as I smile politely and say, "Oh, I do." 

Do Say:
"It get's better.  Promise."

 Because I seriously need reminded of this.  Often.  You can even add in an "I'll pray for your sanity."  because that would be appreciated.

Don't say:
"Better you than me."

 Damned right it is.  If you have the audacity to say this to my face, I am way more qualified to handle my controlled chaos than you do, and I am seriously glad God blessed me with it than you.  Sorry, but this is just such a backhanded comment.  Makes me and other moms NUTS.

So there you have it.  Some simple ettiquette for dealing with moms of large families.

The more you know.....

Vacation Part 4: the final chapter

As we make our way from the prison that was our ship, to the car, Admiral decides he is going to drive, as up until now I have done all of the driving.  I think that he was tired of being the errand boy for three ungrateful toddlers, and a surly tween, and wanted to reclaim some dignity.  So as we make our way onto the freeway, he declares, "I am going to take a different way back, my GPS says that this way is shorter than the way we came."  Do I care?  No.  Will it get me back to where we came from?  Great!  We head off. 

Almost 5 miles in, we see one of the overhead signs light up, "Traffic stopped for 6 miles, 5 miles ahead."  Ugh!  I look at the clock, because my kiddos are really used to a schedule, it was already 5, and we are used to eating about 6.  I start throwing marshmallow treats at them, and playing Frozen for the 8,000th time this trip.  We really did bring all of our kid movies, but for some reason I think this was the only one that was played. 

We sit in traffic.

And we sit in traffic.

And we still sit in traffic. 

I could see from the look on the Admiral's face, that he was having a battle in his mind of which was the worse torture, having to take care of the kids, and their constant pleas of "I'm Hungry!"  "The movie is too loud", "The movie is too quiet", "I am still hungry", "I feel carsick"; or having to navigate the traffic that was crawling at a snail's pace.  In addition to messes, he also is not great at dealing with drivers who 'won't go', 'just won't go', or 'won't get out of the way and get over if they aren't going to go' 

We finally make it out of the rat race, over the bridge and through the tunnel, and are headed back towards Williamsburg.  I see the vein in his neck is pulsing less now, but the hungries are creaping up on us all.  It is almost 6, and besides the McDonald's and crappy van snacks, we really hadn't eaten anything.  I browse through the travel book, and spy a really nice restaruant, so we decide that this will be a great place to go for our last night here. 

We get right in, and are sat at a booth. 

Now, can I just say this......Restauraunts.  Why oh why do you sit families that need booster seats at a booth?  The seat is so squashy that the booster rocks all over the place.  You can't push it up to the table, because the kids fall out of the seat and onto the floor banging his or her chin on the table, and you can't push it back against the back of the seat, because then he or she is so far away from the table that they drop EVERYTHING on to their lap.  We also can not NOT use a booster, because my kids NEED containment of some kind.  (Please see the last installment of the vacation series to see how my kids do on a bench seat when left to their own devices. )  But, alas, we are at a booth, with boosters, and Little man has already slipped out of his seat, climbed out of his seat, and tipped over his seat about 8 times, and we haven't even gotten water yet.

God bless him, our victim, I mean server, comes over.   He is a very very nice gay man, with a very big smile, and very warm greeting, but I can tell he is already looking at me with a mixture of "Giiirl, I don't know how you do it", and "Oh God you poor thing."  He endears himself to my heart when his response to my "I will just have sweet tea" is "Honey are you sure you don't want something with alcohol?" 

We order, and Your Royal Highness, who has held it together thus far like a champ, starts to come off of his ADHD medicine, and is getting fidgety and a little dramatic.  He is tapping his foot, and shaking the table. He keeps saying, "What are we doing when we get back?  Can we go swimming?  Please, can we swim?"  Ummm, were you on that boat ride son?  I am not doing crap when we get back.  Sorry for ya.  I will be lucky if I make it up the 3 flights of stairs to our room before fainting.  I say, "Not tonight honey.  I am sorry."  He sighs, and goes to slam his head onto the back of the squishy booth, but he has had a growth spurt, and his head is now higher than the soft part, and proceeds to whack his head with great force on the wood beam above it. He starts crying, which in public is really rare for him, so I know it had to really hurt.  I cradle his head and check for a concussion.  But he is fine.  And now he is extremely cranky and whiny. 

Meanwhile, the girls who are beside the Admiral are whining about the food taking too long, and how 'Huuuuuuuuungry' they are.  Mini me was almost to tears about how long the food was taking, and how starved she was.  And I could see that Admiral had just about had enough of family fun time.  The vein in his neck was pulsing again at an alarming rate, and his face was starting to get pink.  They are laying in their booster seats, and falling off onto the bench.  They are taking off their shoes.  They won't color, or use their toys that we brought.    Little Man was also flopping about in his seat like a fish out of water, because he wanted to look at the people behind us, and see the people at the next table, and "Ooooh mommy, look they have food too!  I want a bite."  as he tries to climb over me to eat this poor man's pasta beside us.  And now YRH is hitting me with a barrage of, "Why cant we swim?  It isn't fair!  Why not?  Can daddy take me?  I want to swim, we have hardly swam the whole time!  You said we would swim, will you please take me, PLEASE!  Moooooooommmy!!  Please!"

Finally the food arrives, and God bless him, our server got the kid's food out first.  We now commence the cutting furiously of meat, and blowing of fries in a flurry of activity as all 3 toddlers want their food NOW, and all try to put a still sizzling fry into their mouths, as we snatch it from their hands.  Then tears are shed as we say, "Just let me finish cutting this, it is hot!"  And then our food arrives, and is crammed onto the table, only to be left to get cold as we finish dissecting everyone's chicken, or grilled cheese, or hamburger.  Then there is the requisite, "I need ketchup!  I need ranch!"  to which we have to grab our server and beg for condiments.  Finally all have their entrees.  I go to bite into this delicious looking $15 hamburger on a gluten free bun, when Mini Me starts in:

"I don't want this.  I'm not hungry."  The grilled cheese she ordered is probably the most delicious

looking sandwich I have ever seen.  The cheese is like 1/2 an inch thick, and the bread is golden toasty brown.  She has lost her damn mind.  Admiral goes purple, "YOU were yelling and complaining about how hungry you were.  You WILL eat this now, because you will not get anything else tonight at all."  I could see him glaring at her murderously because the stress from the day was causing him to snap.  She starts to cry, and moan the whine that, I swear, is the most annoying, god-awful noise any human has ever made, ever in the history of human kind.  The kind of noise that would cause you to literally take the steak knife in front of you, and plunge it into your ears just to make it stop.  The kind of noise that could potentially cause one to have temporary insanity and end up in jail.  I can see this all playing out in my head and I throw my hand across the table, and grab his, and say, "Hon, why don't you go for a little walk to the bathroom huh?  I think you need to take a break."  I am not sure how he did it, but with super human strength he propels himself out of the bench between the twins, flies over Mini me and lands with the precision of an olympic gymnast onto the floor.  I half expected him to "stick it".  He then practically runs away. 

After he is gone, I use the scariest mommy voice I own, and growl so that no one can hear but our table.  "Listen to me and listen right now you little heathens, your dad and I have just about had it with all of you.  This is enough of this.  We are ALL tired, we are ALL hungry, and we are ALL ready to just be done.  But this is our LAST meal and we are going to enjoy it as a family with NO whining and we are going to stop complaining and eat the food that is in front of you.  IS THAT CLEAR?  Because so help you God if you don't!!  But if you do, I will buy you dessert to take back to the condo.  Anything you want.  Just STOP BEING BRATS!  GOT IT????" 

I swear the only thing they heard was , "Blah blah blah blah blah blah dessert. Blah blah blah."  Whatever it was, they started to at least sit somewhat still, and somewhat eat their dinner.  Albeit little man had kicked off his shoes, and Thumbellina was eating her crayon instead of dinner, but you know what, they were quiet. 

Admiral came back, and climbed over Mini me and ate the rest of his pasta in complete furious silence.  The bill came, and we ordered cookies to go, and good to his word, Admiral boxed up Mini me's grilled cheese because  "Hell no she isn't getting a cookie until she eats this."  He then took the kids to the car while I waited for my credit card. 

My favorite little server came back and said with a wry smile, "You know, I knew if I took my time with this card, he would take the kids out to the car and I figured you would get a little time to yourself in silence before you had to go back out there. I commend you sweetie, you are a rock star mom." 

I gave him a big tip.

We slowly make our way back to the condo. 

The next morning we get up, pack up the car and head back home.  The admiral and I were able to laugh about the day before, saying "What the hell were we thinking taking those kids on a 2 hour cruise??  We have lost our minds!"  and "I think we need more time here, we will have to come back.  But when we get to come back the little's won't be free for

everything anymore." 

As we drove off into the sunrise, we smile at each other.

We had survived.

Vacation Part 3

We get up bright and early on a sunny Thrusday morning.  It is gorgeous out.  We have a plan for the day. We will finish looking through Williamsburg, eat lunch, have the littles sleep in the car while we drive to Norfolk, and take a 2 hour cruise on a ship to tour the navel ships docked in port.

We get to Williamsburg, and the toddlers are doing awesome.  We go see a bunch of stuff we hadn't had time for, and get them some souvenirs: 2 way too expensive three cornered hats made in China, and 2 sweet pioneer bonnets, again, made in china.  YRH begs and begs me to get his teacher a souvanir, because she loves revoluntionary history, so I say yes.  Of all of the cool things he could have picked to give her, he got her a musketball.  With a stamp on the bottom of it that said, you guessed it, made in china.  The lady rings up this craziness, and I nearly faint from the cost, but hey, it is vacation, and we won't be doing this again for a while.

The littles, YRH, the admiral and I all haul butt back to our car so that we can make it to lunch in time to eat it before we have to make the trek to Norfolk.  We decide on nasty McDonalds, and I get my usual, oatmeal, (I seriously ate more oatmeal on this trip than I have in my entire life.  There are no gluten free options at fast food restaurants.  Come on people, get with the times!!!)  and everyone else gets fried awesomeness, and wash it all down with a Dramamine.  (we have issues with motion sickness in our family)  Please note that this little comment is very important for later on.

We get in the car and head to Norfolk, which should take about an hour to get to.

No. One. Sleeps.

At. All.

We get to Norfolk, and get our tickets for the cruise.  I feel like I should preface this with the fact that I truely believe I was prepared.  This is not my first rodeo.  I packed snacks upon snacks in the bag.  And toys, and diapers and all of the essentials.  We board the boat, and because it was a very nice day, we decide to sit up top in the open air to see everything.  As we wait, I look at the clock and we have about 15 minutes before we take off.  Then I start to hear it.

"I am huuuuuuungry"  So I divvy out marshmallow treats.  They eat them.  Then they eat all of the fruit snacks.  Then all of the other fruit snacks.  Then all of the cheese crackers.  Please remember, they ate lunch literally an hour ago.  And they ate it all.  After they ate the last of the snacks I packed, the boat begins to leave the pier.  It has only been 15 minutes. It dawns on me, the Dramamine!  Dramamine stops the acid in your stomach and makes you feel a lot more hungry than you actually are!  I DID NOT PACK ENOUGH SNACKS!!  Crap!

We start out, and immediately I realize, sitting outside was a bad idea.  It was FREAKING FREEZING out there.  The littles had on pants and jackets, but YRH is in this phase where he wants to wear shorts all the time, even when it is like 35 degrees outside.  So he was shivering like crazy, and begging us to go down in the enclosed area.  I wanted natural consequences to happen here, because I have been trying like hell to tell him pants are important when it is chilly out for a month now, but honestly, I was freezing, the littles had snot all down their face, and no one was enjoying it.  So we all head down, (I should add the phrase 'to our doom' here).

We get inside, and they see the snack bar.  "We want chips!  Can we have a hot dog?  I am huuuuuungry!" (stupid dramamine)  I get some bags of chips for them since they cleaned me out of snacks.  The only ones that were not either spicy, or salt and vinegar, were the sour cream and onion flavor.  They began joyfully eating them quietly.   I need to also preface this with the fact that Admiral has a real issue with messiness.  He does not like messiness at all.  He especially does not like food messiness, crumbs, grease, or yucky fingers.  Two of these little heathens were sitting right next to him, and Thumbellina held up a chip to him, "Here daddy!  Have one!"  He immediately recoils from the greesey crumby mess on her hands and face, and looks over his shoulder at me and barks, "Tiff, can you get me a wipe?"  I am not kidding, and lookng back on this now, it makes me laugh, but every time that child ate a chip, a single chip, he would wash her hands.  Every. single. chip.  She would eat a chip, he would wash her hands.  She ate a chip, he washed her hands.

Next to me, I had Little man and YRH, and YRH was completely interested in the ships. Little man, however,  couldn't have cared less.  He was trying to lay on the bench seat, putting his feet on me, then on his brother.  He was eating his chips and wiping his hands on me, then handing me the bag, only to shreik that he wasn't done when he saw me go for a chip.  Finally he was really done, and took a toy our of the bag and, noisily started playing with it while sitting on the floor between me and his brother.  I finished off his chips.  The girls finished and handed me their bags which I folded and put in mine, and Admiral wiped their hands, face, and seat off.  I am suprised he didn't use sanitizer too.

The girls decide they are done looking out the window, and listening to the guy narrating the trip.  (MInd you it has been like 10 minutes since we set off)  They get out their ponies and start, loudly playing with Little man over the back of the seat.  They are playing, noisily, but amicably, so I am looking out the window, and trying to enjoy the trip.  Apparently, them playing is like white noise to me, I don't even hear it anymore unless I am directly spoken too, or someone is howling because they were wronged in some way.  So it came as a suprise to me when I hear someone from behind me hiss, in a very loud and irritaed way, "Shhh!!!" 

I look back, and see an older gentleman with is wife glaring in my direction. 

Oh.  I didn't realize how loud they were.  Guess the old man forgot his hearing aid and couldn't hear the guy clamoring on about the ships on the loudspeaker that was positioned directly over his head.  I hush the little ones.  "Hey, guys.  People are trying to listen.  Can you please play quieter?"

It was as if I had said, "Hey, Christmas, and your birthday are both cancelled this year."

They cried, and howeled, and belly ached.  They threw their toys down and cried.  I look back at the man as if to say, "Huh. Karma."  and then gathered up my little ones and headed to the front of the ship where there was an eating area.  Oh. My. Goodness.  It was as if someone had given the kids speed!  They saw the little table, and the window and benches, and started climbing all over, pounding on the windows, screaming "Ohh!  Look!" at the seagulls, and then falling off of the seat, which then commenced more howling.  All the while I was chasing them saying a barrage of commands like "Stop it!  What are you doing?  Get your feet off there!  Put that down!  Don't touch that!  Sit down!"  I finally gathered them up, and hearded them to the back of the boat again, but this time into the bathroom.  Where I actually started lecturing toddlers.  "What is the matter with you people!  We don't act like this!  Now listen to me, we are going back to our seats, and you will sit down, and you will behave, and play quietly or I am going to bring you back to this bathroom and I will....well....I am so mad at you right now I don't even know what is going to happen, but it will be bad and you will be very very sad and sorry. I will....I will flush your pony down the potty.  You got that??  I will do it!"  They all looked at me as if to say, "mom is losing it."  and shrugged and walked back to their seats.

For 5 minutes, all was well.  We were now 20 minutes into the 2 hour trip. 

Then LIttle man realized that he could see the feet of the people behind us from under our bench.  He sat down and started touching their toes with  his hands, and then his feet.  I grabbed him and pulled him up onto the bench, where he immediately went boneless and slithered his way to the floor.  I picked him up again, and said, "quit it!"  and he slithered his way back down again, this time laying on the floor and being completely boneless, I was not able to get a good grip on him to pull him up, though I was trying really hard.  I am not sure how he doubled his weight, but he did.  I feel a pull on my sleeve.  Thumbellina was there.  "mommy, I wanna sit with you."
"I can't hold you right now baby, I am trying to get your brother."  The whine this child let out was so irritating and and high pitched and mournful, it messed with my brain.  All I could thing was, "Make.  It.  Stop!" and I left Little man at the feet of my oldest son, and picked her up just to shut her up.  And that is when it hit me.

I just brought 3 toddlers.  Without a nap.  On a boat.  In the middle of the bay.  With 100 other people.  And no where else to go.  For 2 hours.

I. Am. Trapped.

Panic starts to set in, and I think the thought crossed Admirals face, just as it crossed mine.  Up until now he was dealing with Mini me, and the adventures of the lost pony, to which, I didn't know, was right under my feet. We both look at each other, and in ESP fashion say to each other with no words, "This battle cannot be won.  We are going to just have to be those parents."

We deal with what can be dealt with.  We are shushed again by the old couple, to which I gave a glare that gave him the one finger salute without even giving it.  I believe he got the point.  We heard a barrage of "I am huuuuuunry", "I am tiiiiiiired", "I am boooooooored" from them. Little man would repeatedly climb up onto the back of our seat, and get in the people's face behind us, and I would silently take him down.  Then he would climb over me, and go boneless just for the sake of going boneless and slither down to the floor.  Then he would climb up onto the bench and try to lie down, kicking YRH in the butt and practically sending him reeling off of the seat, only for me to pick him up again, him go boneless and slither down to the floor.  Until he realized that I had finished off his chips, and thus began shrieking, "I wasn't done!  I want chiiiiiiips!" Meanwhile, Thumbellina was sliding off of my lap, and climbing up on Admirals lap, then sliding off of his lap, to climb back on mine.  Mini me was playing with her now found pony, and then confiscated Thumbellina's discarded pony, only to hear the whine of "That is myyyyyy pony!  I wannnnt it back!!!"  to which she replied "Yooooou weren't playing with it!  It is miiiiine now!!"  I take the pony from Thumbellina, and give it to Mini me, who smirks, and then Thumbellina wails, "I WANT MY PONY!!!"  All the while the narrator is droning on and on about every thing in our sight, but I am hearing none of it.

I sigh a giant resigned sigh.  It is now one hour into the trip.  I hear the captain say, "We will now be headed back, during which I will play some music for you to enjoy."  I am not kidding when I say, immediately my children get quiet and play quietly for the rest of the entire hour back to the dock.  During the time that it would have been okay for them to be loud and play noisily, but they are now suddenly completely amicable.  Admiral and I look at each other as if to say, "What.  The. Hell?"  and shake our heads.  Little man is laying across my lap, Thumbellina and Mini me are quietly playing ponies, and YRH is staring out the window, trying to get as far from us all as possible, so that, hopefully no one will associate him with these crazy people.  We pull in to dock, and wait for almost everyone to get out before leaving.  We gather our things, and start disembark our torture chamber, when the cherry on top of this whole boat ride happens.  I am at the door, almost out of my prison, almost free! I hear "mam?  Is this your child?"  Mini me is on the floor between the seats playing ponies at the back of the boat.  I had almost just left this child on the boat.  Unbelievable.  I gather her up with the flock and we head back to the van.  We are headed to a nice fancy restaurant for our last night on vacation.  Or should I call it: The Dinner That Almost Caused a Homicide.

TO BE CONTINUED