Are Those Eyes Following Me?

Thursday night we decided to go out to dinner. It was hot and I was NOT cooking and heating up the house. We wanted to go someplace a little different than our usual T.G.I. Fridays, Ruby Tuesdays, and Applebees type restaurants.

There is a place Mr. Schmitty and I had gone to a few times in the pre-kid years. It's only 20 minutes from our house. I took a look at their online menu to make sure there were child-friendly dishes on it. Great there was!

I was a tad disappointed though, we missed Harley Davidson night which was LAST Thursday. The kids would have LOVED seeing that. After dinner we were lucky enough to see three men roll into the parking lot with their Harleys. They were gorgeous hogs (the motorcycles, definitely NOT the riders). I told the boys to get a good long look because that's as close to a motorcycle as they will ever get. They may be gorgeous pieces of machinery, but unless there is an indestructible bubble around it and one of my guys, ain't no way any of them will ride one! Not as long as I'm alive and kicking. And I told them even if they got one after I kicked the bucket I would come back and haunt them.

So, back to dinner. It's a hopping place, I tell you. Thank goodness it's quite a large building with plenty of seating so we didn't have a wait. It's called The Cabin, which of course you probably have already guessed means it has a log cabin feel. Inside, the walls are adorned with fishing and hunting props. It also is has many taxidermy animal trophy mounts. Yes, I looked that term up. There were huge fish, deer, and even a wolf. It was a little creepy for me, I felt like they were watching me eat every bite of my steak. I was wishing at that point that I had ordered the pasta. The kids on the other hand loved looking at everything.

Right above where we were sitting was a HUGE Catfish. W. asked what fish that big ate. A slight smile spread across the faces of Mr. Schmitty and myself. Another perfect opportunity to mess with their minds.

Mr. Schmitty: "Well, what do you think they eat?"

T.: "Other fishies!"

Me: "Nope."

A puzzled look spread across the boys faces. R. was staring up at the fish and you could actually see the wheels turning in her head.

W.: "What do they eat, really?"

Mr. Schmitty: "Cats, of course."

Me: "Yes, hence the name, Caaatfish."

They looked half horrified and at the same time we saw little smirks forming on their lips because they aren't quite sure if we are messing with them again.

I looked at Mr. Schmitty, "Wait until they see the Kidfish!"

W.: "Where?!"

The three kids start looking all around at the walls.

Me: "Oh no, they have that one alive in a tank. I'll show you when we leave."

T.: "COOL!"

Me: "You just better make sure you eat EVERYTHING on your plates. I'm just saying."

I give them all a nervous look and continue eating my steak.

Muhhhahaaaaa!

I Rock!

Shelli over at BagMomma likes me, she really, REALLY likes me! She has bestowed this awesome nomination on me today. In her honest opinion, she seems to think I ROCK! Wow! I am completely at a loss for words, I know, suuuuuure I am. I am so happy to hear that she enjoys my humor. As she said in her blog, my kids are a riot, I really have to give them credit for my material.

Now, I would like to pass along my award and share the glory with some other Rockin' Girl Bloggers.

Maria over at Just Eat Your Cupcake is a lady that makes me laugh. She has this warmth to her posts when she speaks of the important people in her life, especially her daughter Liv and partner Bing. I also can't help but have the highest respect for someone who admits to bawling when listening to Johnny Mathis!

My next set of nominees are the three women over at MamaLaw. Justice Fergie, Justice Jones, and Justice Ny are hardworking moms AND lawyers too! I'm sorry ladies but I just couldn't choose between you. So, you will have to share this time, because, I love you all.

Robyn is One Tough Momma and she is absolutely hilarious. I find it wonderful that she files her posts under the label of "I know I have issues" because, well, as moms don't we all? She's a mom after my own heart that lives to torment her children and mess with their minds. You gotta love that!

And last, but certainly not least, I've got a new friend and a new great daily read. Mrs. Reevesfarm at For The Love...A Mama's Mantra is witty and fun. Plus she's in the S.L.U.T.S. club and not afraid to say so!

The "Talk" Is Inevitable!

Okay all, when is the proper age for the "talk"? When they begin asking questions? Or if they are pretty innocent and really don't ask anything, is there an age that a parent should ease into it?

W. is my first child, so I'm new to this area of parenting. I know it's only a matter of time before he catches on to something a classmate or friend says at school. He'll come home wondering what it all means. We've already had some close calls with this, this, and this.

Over the weekend Mr. Schmitty was watching Animal Planet. The kids really love animals and were watching along with him. He and I started talking, uninterrupted for once, as the kids were glued to the tv. We weren't paying attention to the program because, well, we were TALKING! A rarity in a house of three children.

Anyway, W. asks, "What's that?"

"Those are dolphins," Mr. Schmitty says as he continues our conversation.

Mr. Schmitty is really great at blurting out an answer to a question without really paying attention to what's actually going on. He'll just say something. It drives me crazy. He's not very observant, for example, a pink polka-doted elephant could be sitting in the living room and as long as it is out of Mr. Schmitty's direct line of sight to the tv screen, well, he'll never see it. It could even fart and he'd think it was the puppy.

Now, of course, moms are multi-taskers, I can continue the conversation, look at the tv, answer W., AND mop the floor, change a diaper, and chew gum, all at the same time. Mr. Schmitty trips when chewing gum.

SO, I blow a bubble, nod to Mr. Schmitty, look at the tv, and say, "This is yours sweetie."

"What do you want to know, buddy," Mr. Schmitty says as he turns his head from my direction.

"What's that dad?"

My husband's head stops and he glances up at me. The look in his eyes lets me know he is spewing curse words at me in his mind.

"Hey pal, you were watching the show, not me," I say with a grin.

He turns back to W., "That's an egg."

"I know what that is, but what are those other things swimming around that look like tadpoles?"

I cross my arms and grin wider, "Yea dad, what are they?"

"Just what you said, good thinking, they are tadpoles!"

What a wuss.

Girl Talk

Someone sent me one of those survey emails the other day. One of the questions was, "Name one thing you would change about your body." I wondered if I could answer, "Everything!" But I followed the rules and picked my biggest, no pun intended, problem. My boobs. I.HATE.THEM!

I was a late bloomer as a teen. I was flat as a board until the summer before my senior year. There must have been something in the water that August because when I returned to school BAM! there they were. Guy friends of mine wondered if I had gotten implants for my birthday. I was basically shy, so I began to hide them. I think back now and wished I had flaunted them a little more.

From that point on I always wore loose shirts, so I don't think many realized that I had blossomed so well. I was a C cup and though that isn't huge, for a thin girl they were quite large. When I got married at 25, my boobs were the subject during the reception. My dress, of course, was fitted to me and people finally got a look-see at the girls. After a few rounds of drinks, friends were asking me to jump up and down for them.

Anyway, jump to present day, I'm not that skinny chick anymore. I've also given birth to three babies, so that and gravity have now expanded my once size C to a DD. They are no longer perky, but rather "hang low, swing from side to side, and I could probably tie them in a bow". I have neck and upper back aches and indentations from my bra straps. In a nut shell, I'd like to just hack them off. And hopefully within the next few years I will be able to get that reduction.

I would love to wear a tank top and not worry that everyone is staring at my chest. But even more so, I would like to stop slouching because of the weight of them. I would like to stop taking rounds of Motrin all of the time to help ease the pain in my neck and back. It's a constant strain on my muscles.

My kids are even obsessed with them. And how couldn't they be? They are pretty much at their eye level and well, are very much "In your face!" Yesterday during a kick ball game in the yard, T. got an out and walked past me, at which point he tweaked my left one in protest.

And forget about it with R. I hope she follows in the footsteps of my mother and sister who could go bra less and nobody would be the wiser. R. is only 3 and this is the conversation we had a while back:

"Mommy I want my boobies to grow."

"R., they will as you get older."

"NOOOOO, I want them like yours, NOW!"

"Honey, you would have a hard time walking and would probably fall on your face. Why do you want them bigger?"

"I want to wear a bra."

"R. you are only 3, you won't need a bra for a long time."

"But why are mine little?" She's whining at this point like she does when she wants a toy at the store.

"God made you that way, they will grow when you are older."

"But God made me little, see?!" She lifts up her shirt.

I think to myself, "Oh Lord I really need to stop leaving my Victoria's Secret Catalog lying around. First T. and now R.!"

School's (Almost) Out For Summer!

W. is done with 3rd grade in approximately 2 1/2 hours. If I were him I would be watching the minutes tick by on the classroom clock. But knowing my dear W. he is enjoying his last moments by eating cupcakes and laughing with his classmates.

He got his yearbook the other day and I told him it might be a good idea to ask some of his friends to write their phone numbers in his book next to their autograph. He hasn't come home with one. This is where my heart aches for this child of mine.

W. has always been a very outgoing child. He would always be the first to find someone to play with at the playground. He didn't care if you were a girl, a boy, his age, lots older or lots younger. He never discriminated. He usually just joined the child who was doing what he thought looked like fun.

W. has a LOT of energy. He's very impulsive and I think sometimes other children don't know how to take him. They initially flock to him because he looks like so much fun. But unfortunately he sometimes has a problem holding on to friends. The fact that he marches to the beat of his own drummer can be an issue as well as that he seems to play with children because of what they are doing. Now that the kids are getting older they all seem to be establishing their own little cliques. I'm afraid he is going to be the odd one out. He's not forming a strong bond with anyone. He does have the two children across the street he plays with constantly, however, neither one is in his grade. One is older and one is younger by a year.

It breaks my heart that the phone never rings for him. If I hear that he is playing with a new child at school I will tell him that we should have that boy/girl over to play. By the next day he's playing with someone else. I don't know what to do. Do I let him be? Will he be okay?

I see that he gets along with other boys but he always seems to be on the outside. I noticed this at boy scouts. The boys don't really seem to listen to him. They aren't mean but they also don't go out of their way to greet him or include him.

I just don't want my boy to be left out. I would like him to just be able to make a few connections. Friends that will last a life time and be true friends. My heart hurts.

What Planet Are You From?

The Schmitty Family, plus one, was piled in the minivan yesterday. The plus one was my niece, A., who was riding with us back to our house. We all had been visiting my MIL for lunch.

The kids were bantering back and forth and T. pipes up with, "W. you are from Mars!"

W. replies, "Well, you are from, from....Jupiter!"

We were all pretty wound up and I just love to make my niece laugh. She's got one of those infectious laughs and she never quite knows how to stop it just short of peeing herself. So I, of course, have to egg them on with, "Oh yea? Well, then who's from Ur-anus?!"

W. and A. went hysterical in the third row. Crickets were chirping in the middle. Big difference between the 9 and 12 year old crowd and the 3 and 4 year old one.

All of a sudden A. shouts out, "Well I came from my mom's vagina!"

WTF? I guess she had too much icing off of the cake we had at grandma's house. She must be dilirious!

"A.! I'm not ready for that conversation yet, PLEASE!!"

I think to myself, "Oh no not again!"

She's practically choking on her hysterics. Remember I'm the "cool aunt who rocks!" so I guess she figured it was okay.

"Where? What? What are you talking about?" W. demanded.

"Nothing!" I said as I tried thinking quickly, "It's near Venus."

Did I Just Talk Completely In A Circle?

Last week I was at my friend and neighbor, J.'s, house. It was her daughter's birthday so T. and R. were invited over for some festivities. While the kids were playing she and I sat down for a gossip session.

Our town is pretty large for the area we live in. Most of the larger towns are usually split up, as our is, into sections. Ours has three; the rich, the well-off, and the we're doing okay 'cause there's food on the table. We fall into the latter of the categories. We are referred to as Mayberry. I type this as I am rolling my eyes. It's more like Peyton Place.

But the gossip J. and I share is usually fun and we both know that it goes no further than between us. Okay and between you all and me.

I digress.

J. asks me if I know a girl in the third grade named A. "No, why?" I reply.

"Remember the girl who kept calling B. (her son) at 6:30 in the morning and 11:00 at night a while back?"

"Yes! Okay, what now?"

"Oh my God! Make sure W. hasn't spoken to her recently." She proceeds to tell me that this A. was telling children in her son's class about a website that had "Naked people bumping together." This apparently unsupervised at home child was then writing down the URL for the now curious classroom full of 8 year olds. And from what J. heard it's not the first time.

"Oh nice."

Now, I feel for this girl. It seems to me that she isn't getting the proper attention she should be. I'm not trying to judge her situation because honestly I don't know what it is. But I also don't need my child learning about the horizontal mambo from a porn site.

I told J. that I didn't think W. had contact with A. He's never mentioned her name before.

Tonight I tucked the boys into bed and said goodnight. I walked toward the bedroom door. As usually W., who has ignored me all afternoon because he has important things to do like play Dragonball Z on Playstation and stuff, decides he wants to engage me in conversation. You know, that last stall tactic to stay up past bedtime.

"Mom, guess what? A. had to have detention 3 days in a row!"

I stopped dead in my tracks. *Sigh* I turned around.

"You know A.?"

"Yea, she's my friend."

Why, why, WHY do they always find my sweet boy? It's like vultures on a dead carcass.

"When did she become your friend? I've never heard you mention her before."

"I don't know, but she likes me."

My phone BEST not be ringing at the butt crack of dawn if she knows what's good for her!

"She likes you, huh? Well, you can be nice to her, but I'd rather you play with the friends you already have."

"Why?"

"Well, let's just say she doesn't always make the right choices."

"But how do I break up with her?"

Break up with her?! Oh crap she's going to wake me up in the morning, isn't she? No, no, NO!! Think, think.

Nothing is going to come out right. What do I say? She's trouble? She's only 8, part of me feels for her. Is it her fault or just lack of guidance?

"Well W. first of all you aren't breaking up with her because she is your classmate, not your girlfriend. Second of all you can be nice to her but sometimes the decisions she makes aren't always the right ones. I have to look out for you and I don't want you to maybe get into trouble because you wanted to be her friend. You know what's right and what's wrong, you need to use your own mind and make the right choices."

I'm not sure if he understood, I'm not sure if I did. But he said okay and then goodnight.

I'm going to suck at this when he's a teenager.

Come Out, Come Out Where Evah You Are!

I got my first "It Stinks" vote on the Do You Enjoy This Blog? poll in my sidebar. Wow. I don't know what to say. I'm deeply hurt. And quite embarrassed, actually. I thought my stuff was funny, amusing, even hilarious sometimes. I know talking about my boooring life with my little brats monsters angels isn't for everyone. I get that. Not everyone wants to hear about poop and the latest adorable quote from my 3 year old. I was okay when I received the "I'm Not Sure" vote. I could live with someone being indecisive. But I didn't think my posts fell into the stinky category. That my dear friends just rubs me the wrong way.

I wish whomever hates my blog would step up, give me some advice. I'm not a hater, I can take constructive criticism, well, kinda so please don't be too harsh. What don't you like? Was it the post about the hair? The one about going commando? I know it must have been this one because you are a cat lover, aren't you? That has got to be the reason, I pissed off a cat lover. Hey, I love kitties too.

I must have overestimated my ability to write. I don't know how I'll go on. Hold on a second......*sniff, blow, sniff*...okay, I'm back. No, wait, yeah, okay.

I'm being a bitch, aren't I? Sorry, I'm really not bothered by it. Just trying to take up space today because I have writer's block.

Ta Ta All!

UPDATE:

Thank you ladies, your comments make me feel all fuzzy inside! You all are the greatest!

My Prince Charming With Soft And Bouncy Hair

W. has always liked his hair longer than I would normally like. I like that clean cut look, but after numerous arguments with him, I agreed to let him grow it out some. Some.

Soon after our conversation, I began to notice the boys getting off the bus in the mornings at his school. Most of them had the same hair style, the longer, I just got out of bed look. Okay, at least he's not being the rebel. He's just trying to fit in. And come to think of it, it is actually easier to take care of now. He's got horrible cowlicks all over and the shorter it is the worse it looks and the harder it is to plaster down.

I just worry about the summer. I know he's going to whine when it's 90 degrees. He's got gorgeous hair, but it's very thick and coarse. He's going to swelter. But he swore to me he didn't care and that he was NOT, I repeat, NOT going to cut it short. I told him if he so much as complained once, he'd have to have it cut like his father has it. That should keep him quiet as Mr. Schmitty has a flat top with it basically shaved on the sides.

Anyway, last night W. was in the shower. I notice a lot of my material for this blog seems to revolve around the shower and the bathroom in general, as evident here, here, oh and definitely here.

Now, as I mentioned a few sentences ago, W.'s hair is very thick and coarse. I told him he should use conditioner in his hair to make it soft. So, last night he is showering and singing his little heart out like Sanjaya. I was in the next room and he asked me how long to keep the conditioner in. "Just a few minutes is good."

After his shower, Mr. Schmitty used the hairdryer to help him dry it. I heard him explaining that I had told him that the conditioner would make his hair soft. I can only imagine the face my dear husband was making during the conversation. Things like that coming from his boys makes him crazy. He'll just look at me and say, "Stop it."

What?!

This morning W. couldn't stop talking about his beautiful locks. I must say it was beginning to wear on my nerves.

I saw my opening to once again mess with my kid. I ran over to him and started running my fingers through his hair.

"Oh W., it's so soft! I could run my fingers through it all day!" I told him the girls would be saying at school.

I starting talking in a sweet, high-pitched voice, "No, let me, it's mmmmyyyy turn!"

"MOM STOP IT!"

"C'mon W. give me a little flip, just one, c'mon just like Prince Charming in Shrek!"

I think he wanted to give me a flip of another kind as he stomped out the door.

SSSSHHHH....We're Playing Hookie!

We surprised W. this morning by letting him sleep in. I know it's only 8:00 am, that is sleeping in for him! We decided to let him take the day off from school and we are taking the troops to the boardwalk for some sun and fun.

Mr. Schmitty's hours have changed at work. Some upper authority figure needs to justify his job and is stirring the pot in different departments. Mr. Schmitty applied for the department he is in because he wanted to have better hours and he wanted to have holidays and weekends off to spend with his family. Now, out of nowhere the carpet has been pulled out from under his feet and he'll be working one of two shifts and 10-12 hour days. It's basically going to suck for all. He'll be exhausted and working then sleeping all the time. The kids and I will never see him. And I am going to LOSE.MY.MIND with the world's most stubborn hard-headed whiny adorable children.

So, that brings us to today. The weather is gorgeous. School is almost out so how much work could W. possibly miss? I've spoken to my neighbor who will have her daughter bring home his work.

The Schmittys need a family day before this crazy work schedule goes into affect.

I'm off now to slap on the sun block, pack some snacks and drinks for the car, oh and a DVD for the ride, and I gotta find my Dramamine! W. and I just L-O-V-E those roller coasters. I just don't like puking afterward.

Ciao!

Boy Crazy Girls

My niece was telling me of a falling out she had with one of her "friends". Seems that this "friend" was pissed off that the boy she liked didn't return her feelings. Instead he seems to have a thing for my niece A. instead. This "friend", who I will refer to as M., apparently sent A. a nasty note during class. It was a picture of a bottle with the word Poison written on it. Under the little doodle were the words, "Drink this bitch and die."

They are just 13 years old.

In my day, I would have waited for this girl to come outside at recess and I would have beat the crap out of her confronted her. But you have to be more careful in this time of lawsuits.

So, my niece told the principal and the mother's were called, a conference ensued, and M. was grounded. Now they are friends again.

Oh the drama.

I told my niece that this wouldn't be the first time nor the last time she was going to battle with a friend over a boy.

My advice was just not to fret over it. It's inevitable. It's not the end of the world. It's going to happen.

I recalled a story of a similar situation I went through in high school. I began dating a boy that one of my friends, T., liked. I didn't know it at the time. Instead of talking to me about it, she avoided me. I then began receiving prank phone calls on my private line, which thank goodness I had because my father would have killed me. The calls came at all times of the day. I thought it was funny at first because it was so childish. After a while the calls just got annoying.

I knew I needed to do something because quite honestly, I was getting bored with the whole thing. I had a suspicion it was T. but couldn't prove it. There was talk that T. had another girl, B., making calls too. I had to take some action. I'm glad I did because we became great friends again.

I must say, that I still don't know who I taught a lesson to on the day the phone calls stopped. We never spoke about it.

All I know is that one of them is more than likely deaf in one ear. They would have to be after I blew that coach's whistle into the phone.

Giving The Locals A Peep Show

I really thank God for my kids sometimes. If it weren't for the funny things they do on a daily basis I'd probably be in a looney bin. I've had the worst case of PMS the past few days. I swear the older I get the worse my symptoms get. My meds aren't even cutting it, I'm an impatient, moody, crabby beotch.

Yesterday T. came to the rescue. After we had gotten W. off to school, T. asked if he could change into shorts and a sleeveless shirt. T. usually changes at least three times a day unless I'm paying attention. I have enough laundry to do and he's only 4, nobody cares what he's wearing. I swear he's going to be the next Tommy Hilfiger when he grows up. If I need to change R.'s clothes due to an accident, as she is STILL not potty trained, he'll yell, "I'll pick out her outfit." And he comes back with a perfectly matched one to boot.

Anyway, I tell him he can change because it's now very hot. Then he shouts from his room, "Can I take off my underwear." I'm assuming he, um, how shall I say it, has a skid. I tell him to make sure to place them in the laundry so I can wash them right away. He comes down and goes outside in his shorts and tank top.

The day goes by. He plays, he goes to the vet with Mr. Schmitty and Ruby, he goes to the post office with me, and the bank, and the grocery store. When we get home he sits down on the floor to take off his shoes.

That's when I see it. His little wee-wee hanging to the left.

"Where's your underwear?"

"You told me I could take them off."

I think, "I did?" Then I remember.

"T., that was hours ago and I thought you were putting on new ones! I didn't think you were going to go commando all day!"

"What's commando?"

Sheesh.

9 Years Ago Today....

.....I was lying in a hospital bed, truly exhausted from the day's event. I had waited so long for this day. Five years of tests, poking and prodding, hormones, the works. The greatest day of my life had finally come. It was immediately followed by the worst day of my life.

9 years ago today W. was born. My little boy that I had so desperately wanted for so long. I had been through the wringer. Infertility was a cross I had to bear. I don't think anyone who hasn't been through it can imagine the roller coaster ride. I lost many friends because of it, ones who couldn't quite understand why it was so hard to be around the babies they were all having. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mope. I tried to keep a smile and a happy demeanor in public, but it was hell.

But the torture was well worth it. I had just delivered my miracle baby. I had gotten gestational diabetes during the pregnancy, I know, why should the pregnancy be any easier than the conception? Anyway, I had delivered rather quickly and W.'s oxygen saturation levels were off. They believed it was due to inhaling too much amniotic fluid. They placed him under an oxygen hood and assured me that he would be fine once his lungs dried up some.

The next day Mr. Schmitty and I went to visit him in the NICU and I could tell from the nurse's expressions that something wasn't quite right. And it wasn't. W. was born with a congenital heart defect. It is called a Transposition Of The Great Arteries, or TGA. His main arteries and capillaries to his heart were switched. He also had a pretty large hole in his heart. Normally babies like this are born with bluish skin, but because of the hole, his coloring was normal. The hole helped his body get enough oxygen. We were told that we should call our priest and have W. baptized. The baby and I would be driven by ambulance to the Children's Hospital in Philadelphia (CHOP) as soon as that was done.

My head was spinning, I went into automatic pilot. Mr. Schmitty and my mom drove to CHOP in our car after collecting clothes and incidentals. Baby W. had open heart surgery 3 days later and we spent the next two weeks by his side. I was terrified to touch him at first. The monitors, the beeping, the wires, the bandages, it was so much. But my courageous son fought and now he's healthy and strong. It was amazing what that 7 lb. 4 oz. baby endured.

I can't believe 9 years have passed. It's gone by so quickly. I am so proud of the young man you are turning into. You and I have a special bond that will never be broken. Yes we fight, yes we get on each other's nerves, but we have a deep connection that makes those things seem completely trivial.

I love you with all of my self. I love that you still wrap your baby blanket around your head to sleep. You look like a little old woman in her kerchief. I love how your younger siblings adore you. I love how you are the first to respond to a friend who is sad or hurt and ask what is wrong. I love how you give those friends hugs to ease their pain. I love how you march to the beat of your own drum. I love how you have more energy in your little finger than I do in my entire body, especially because of all you've been through. I love that I can make you laugh just by looking at you a certain way. I love how you bond with your dad over baseball. I love that you still like to hold my hand while walking down the street. I love that you will kiss me hello or goodbye, even in front of your friends. I love everything about you my sweet boy, I love that I have been blessed to have you in my life.

Happy Birthday!