Meet Robin

This is Regifting Robin. I was introduced to her today in my email. She resides here and she has a little game for you to play.

I must warn you that she may drive you slightly batty. If you are like me, you will play again and again, all the while trying to outwit her.

But you can't. It is impossible. She WILL prevail each and every time. (Unless of course, you can't subtract a single digit from a double digit accurately. Then you are just dumb, like me, who swore I had prevailed. That is until I realized that 16 - 7 does NOT equal 8.)

So, I stopped trying to win (and do basic math) and took a look at the whole picture. I figured out the trick. It's quite simple actually.

Can you see it?

Don't Mess With Mama, She's Got A Screw Loose

Did you ever do something to mess with your kids and just couldn't wait to share it?

Tee hee.

The boys were in front of my house playing. Little do they realize, but the paranoid mom in me, watches them from the windows. Now, I don't stare at them and monitor their every move, but I make sure to peek out to make sure they are still there. And I need to know that they aren't getting into too much trouble.

On one of my walks past my office window, I noticed T. jumping into the minivan. I normally keep the doors locked, however, Mr. Schmitty was the last to drive it....enough said. The kids have been told zillions of times that it is dangerous to play in a car. But as you may very well know, my kids aren't exactly great at listening to my rules these days.

So, instead of running outside to yell at them, I picked up my set of keys. I peered out the front door and watched the boys bounce around in the minivan. They were laughing and taking turns jumping over the back seat into the trunk area.

I waited for W., my oldest, the influence and role model, who should be my youngest, to jump in the back. I then locked the doors with the remote and hit the panic button.

They stopped dead in their tracks and their eyes grew to the size of saucers, as the horn blared and beeped, piercing the quiet of the neighborhood.

Now I was laughing! I practically peed myself watching W. scramble from the back, up and over the seat, like his life depended upon it.

I then used the remote again to unlock and open the automatic sliding door. Both boys raced out and onto the grass. They looked around, wildly, until T. spotted me in the house, doubled over and holding my stomach.

I stuck my head out the front door, gasping for air, and asked, "NOW, will you remember not to play in the car?"

Heads And An Arm Are Gonna Roll!

Do you remember the infamous Brady Bunch episode that involved Peter breaking his mother's favorite vase? After he had been told numerous times NOT TO PLAY BALL IN THE HOUSE, he lost control of his basketball and SMASH! The vase shattered. He glued the vase together, which, of course, didn't hold up once water was placed into said vase. Dumb ass! And in true Brady fashion, ALL of the children confessed to breaking it. They just couldn't bear the thought of their dear brother missing out on his camping trip.

Can I get a big, "Awwwwwww?"

Now, fast forward about thirty years to my dysfunctional lovely home. The actual concept is the same, however, the basketball is a pink Disney Princess ball, the vase is a collectible figurine, and there are three children involved, not 6 heaven forbid.

I collect Willow Tree statues. Each figure looks as though it has been hand carved from wood to resemble a family in endearing life moments. I love them. And the thought of endearing life moments. sigh.

My kids? Well they seem to LOVE breaking them. W. broke two last year, which I just recently replaced. So, when I heard the crash upstairs, I knew immediately.

Now, unlike the martyr children of Brady Bunch fame, my kids can't wait to rat out squeal like pigs tattle on each other. Before I could investigate the sound of resin hitting the hardwood floor, the boys were already falling over each other, as they bound down the stairs. Each was trying to be the first to inform me of who was to blame for the latest figurine fatality.

"Mom, MOM!! R. broke your statue!! MOOOOOOOMMMM!" They shouted in unison.

And then W. handed me this:


Kind of creepy when they are dismembered, I must say. And the kicker? The title of this one is "A Child's Touch".

Yea, the Schmitty Kids all have the touch of a bull in a China shop. Heh.

Could Women Be Wrong? You Be The Judge.

"Mommy, can I please have a cup of apple juice?" R. asked me.

I was sitting at the dining room table, taking a much needed, 5 minute breather. I looked up into the adjoining kitchen where Mr. Schmitty, standing in front of the stove, was keeping an eye on dinner. He's a dear like that.

"Daddy is standing right next to the refrigerator, could you ask him?" I asked.

"Sure! Daddy? Could I please have a cup of apple juice?" She asked her father.

He answered, "Maybe mommy could get it, I'm busy making dinner."

I looked up from my coloring book, YES, I sometimes color to relax, and cast him a look with a raised eyebrow.

The roast was in the oven, with the digital thermometer stuck in it. The potatoes were simmering on the stove, as was the broccoli. He was standing, about a foot from the stove, arms crossed, staring.

"Um....BUSY?!"

"YES! I'm multi-tasking!"

"Ah, standing and chewing gum, are we?" I snickered.

"No! I am watching THREE timers!!"

"Oh well, in that case......"

Here's more proof that women are *SO wrong about a man's ability to multi-task:

*Please note the tone of sarcasm.

Update On The Strike

For all that asked how my new plan was working out:

At the present time, the THREAT of the laundry basket alone is working wonders!! My house has NEVER been so clutter free!

I'll give them through the weekend for that to wear off. Then MY fun begins!

Muaaaahhhhhhhaaaa!

This Maid's On Strike

I have HAD it!

I can't seem to get anything done around this house anymore. And do you know why? Because no one can lift a finger to help out.

I spend my days picking up this and picking up that. When did I become such an idiot? Give me an IQ test and I rank above average in intelligence. But by the end of EVERY day, I am ranting that I am sick and tired of cleaning up after everyone.

Please hand me my dunce cap.

All I seem to get done during the day is, maybe, a couple of loads of laundry and filling the dishwasher. The balance of the day is spent dealing with the feeding, bathing, and caring of kids.

AND CLEANING UP THEIR SHIT....OVER AND OVER AND OVER.

My house is filthy and I've got piles of work on my desk. I can't get ahead.

Now, I've heard of some moms letting their children keep their room anyway they wish. "It's THEIR room, let them express themselves."

I say bull honky. There is no reason that I have to step over things just to get to their dressers. I shouldn't risk breaking a toe in the middle of the night when I go in to comfort someone with a nightmare. I certainly am not putting up with the smell and the possibility of bugs because who knows what could end up under a pile of clothes.

My kids are responsible for keeping their rooms in order. I don't expect perfection, however, I do expect $50 Wii games to be put in their cases instead of strewn on the floor. Which of course I yell about constantly, to which I'm told, "I didn't do it!"

But it's my own fault. I lecture and threaten. But really? I'm not taking enough action.

So, my new plan? They will be reminded ONCE to put their things away. After that I will pick up said object and place it in a laundry basket. If they want it, they have to EARN it back.

I figure I waste a lot of time during the day doing their job....now they can feel what it's like to be me.

"Oh, you want your Gameboy back? Sure, there is a load of towels in the dryer that needs to be folded and put away."

"Too bad you have Gym at school tomorrow, Oh, you need to wear your sneakers? Well, I found them in the middle of the floor after I tripped on them. Go clean up the dog poop in the back yard and you can have them back."

I think that perhaps when they see it's not easy being me they'll think twice before throwing their stuff around.

I'm Still Here

I haven't posted since Wednesday. I have had all intentions to, but I've been C-R-A-Z-Y busy. Before I go on, I would like to thank EVERYONE for their comments to my last post. You all gave me a lot of love and I truly appreciate it. W. had another semi-meltdown on Saturday night. He had been outside ALL day and was completely over tired. Thankfully, this episode was short lived compared to the last.

So, now where have I been? Well, it's that time of year again and I am helping to prepare for the elementary school's PTA Installation Dinner and Chance Auction.

The invitations, which I donate, were just completed last night. BTW, we went with design #2. I have to drop off about 460 envelopes today to the various schools in town. Then I have to continue working on our Ad Journal, of which I am the chairperson for.

And while I am on the subject of the Ad Journal; If you own a business and would like to run an ad, please contact me. I am also accepting $10. donations from anyone who would like a chance at winning a $100. Visa gift card. Your name is listed in the journal under Friends and Family and you are automatically placed in the drawing. Please email me, for more info, at aschmittylife (at) aol (dot) com if you are interested.

The Auction is our school's biggest fund raiser of the year. It's a fun night out and we solicit some great prizes....of which I won quite a few of last year.

At our monthly meeting last week, some of the volunteers were talking about a scam that goes on by a group of women in the area. Apparently, these women show up to school Auctions and write a rubber check to get in. They take note of what color tickets are being used for the prizes. They then go back out to their cars where they have rolls and rolls of different colored tickets.

Yup, that's right, they grab a handful and place them in the buckets. Of course, they win and win and win; usually taking home the more valuable gifts. Everyone just assumes that they are a lucky table, when in all actuality they are scam artists.

They claim their loot and by the next day it's on Ebay! Can you believe it?! They sell the stuff off and collect the cash.

Now, who does this? What evil, deceptive type of person sits at home and concocts such a plan?

People NEVER cease to amaze me I tell you. This is exactly why I have a hard time trusting people.

What Is A Mom To Do?

No matter what happens in the Schmitty house, I try to find a little humor in most situations. If not for my own sanity, it at least makes for decent blog fodder.

But yesterday, as hard as I tried, I couldn't find an ounce of amusement anywhere. Not one stinking speck.

So my friends, if you are looking for a laugh today, please move on because you aren't going to find it here.

Here goes:

I won't talk about the first half of the day, as that would take a REALLY long time. I'll save that for another time as it is totally irrelevant to this post anyway.

Instead, I will begin at about 3:00 pm.

W. got off the bus. I could tell from his obnoxious behavior that he was in a less than cooperative mood. He can have a tendency to not know when to stop. He thinks he's being funny, but in reality he's being highly annoying and when in public, quite embarrassing. And to make a long story short, because I really don't want to rehash the entire night, he then proceeded to take a five hour long meltdown.

FIVE.HOURS.LONG!

He couldn't focus on his homework. He was all over the place. He was defiant, nasty, and out of control. I got so pissed I had to leave the house and go for a ten minute drive to cool off. It was either do that or throw him in the bath, clothes and all, to cool him off in an ice cold shower. Which at one point, I came quite close to doing.

The night finally ended with Mr. Schmitty shipping him off to bed at 9:00 pm and telling him that he better get sleep because he would be getting up at 5:00 am to finish his homework.

W. has been in this frame of mind A LOT lately. Unfortunately, since he's been small, it's been a way of life with him. He'll have bouts of this behavior from time to time. As a matter of fact, I went back through my archives to see if I had touched on this subject before. March is apparently "the month". I could basically copy and paste that post here.

Could his behavior stem from his health history and his heart defect? The frustrating thing is, no one knows. It could. He does not have A.D.H.D. according to everyone we have spoken to. He does, however, at times, have those symptoms. They just seem to crop up out of nowhere.

I used to think that he just had an attitude problem and that, combined with his immaturity, caused him to act out. But we noticed about a year ago, that when he is going through these periods, his eyes dilate. It's clearly evident and the first thing we look for now. Of course, the doctors have no clue as to why this happens. All we know is that the behavior and the eyes go hand in hand. So seeing a physical manifestation makes me think it's more than just his demeanor.

So, can he help himself? Is this something he and the rest of us have to live with? I don't know. The doctors don't know. It's frustrating as hell. My nerves are shot and I'm emotionally drained today.

Is 8:00 am too early for a drink?

Such A Little Lady

My husband was kneeling in front of the pots and pans cabinet and was stacking items on top of each other and slamming the door before they fell putting away some mixing bowls. My oldest son was standing next to him, minding his own business.

Mr. Schmitty jumped up and shouted to W., "EWWWW! Did you just let one rip?"

"NO DAD!!" W. replied, completely shocked his father would even say such a thing.

"Well, you better go check your drawers, because I swear I smelled something!" Mr. Schmitty joked back at him.

Suddenly, R. appeared in the kitchen and exclaimed, "Dad, you probably smelled me. I've been farting all day!"

I think it's about time I sign her up for charm school.

I'll Be Setting My DVR To Record This Daily

Last night the kids and I were hanging out in front of the tv. As usual, they were bickering over who was going to sit next to me. When you have three kids, there is always one that feels left out of climbing up my ass the snuggling.

R. was the last to join the group, so I tried to explain to her that this time she'd have to sit next to one of her brothers instead.

She went batshit.

I've explained her anger management issues in the past. As she is getting older, her episodes have decreased in frequency, but from time to time she will resort back to Linda Blair style head spinning violence inappropriate behavior. She just gets so frustrated and can't seem to find the words to express herself. Instead she'll resort to hitting, kicking, and throwing things.

After I picked her flailing body up, as she was trying to beat the crap out of her brothers, I placed her in timeout.

She proceeded to yell at me, with all of the attitude of a teenager, that she was NOT staying in timeout. I saw my future flash before my eyes. I am truly screwed in about ten years.

After a while, she finally calmed down and apologized. She then asked T., in her sweetest voice, if she could sit next to me. He, being the epitome of a middle child people pleaser, said yes.

All was quiet again and we went back to watching the tube. I flipped through a few channels and came across Nanny 911. There on the screen was a beautiful cherub of a girl, completely freaking out in pure R. fashion.

I looked at my daughter. She was wide-eyed with a total look of shock on her face. "Mamma, why is that girl doing that to her mommy?"

"What's the matter, don't you think she should?" I asked, as I tried not to chuckle.

"NO! That's bad!"

"Well, that's how you looked about ten minutes ago."

She sat and thought for a second. "But she is kicking and hitting!" She said, as though her own actions were a figment of my imagination.

"Yes, she is. And isn't that what you were doing?"

Again, she silently pondered my question. She then cuddled in tighter against me and watched as the girl responded to the Nanny's discipline.

When the show was over, R. proclaimed, "Now she's a good girl!" She was completely overjoyed that this story had a happy ending.

I then told my three kids to go upstairs and get ready for bed. Normally, in my house, when I say this, the Schmitty Kids hear, "Go upstairs and run amok and get as wild as you possibly can!"

But tonight, one by one, they brushed their teeth for more than two seconds, they peed in the toilet (my boys have extremely poor aim), and got right under the covers. There was no pushing and shoving. No charging through the rooms. No bouncing off the walls. No mom screaming at the top of her lungs to knock it off.

There was peace.

I dropped to my knees, clasped my hands together, and professed my eternal gratitude to the Nanny.

Howdy Y'all

Well, my weekend was very relaxing. We had lots of laughs, wine, shopping, and fun. It went by oh so quickly though.

And one downer....the hot tub never got used. Why is it that when women get together their cycles all sync up? Thankfully we had plenty of liquid happiness, chocolate chip cookies, and a heating pad. At night we'd all snuggle up under blankets on the couch, in front of the fire, and watch chick flicks.

We did some shopping at the outlets...though these outlets are guilty of false advertising, if you ask me. When I think "outlet", I think great prices. I have to say, there were some great sales, but the regular prices? Not so cheap. I think I'd do better at Target.

The Coach Factory Store was a big hit. Two girls got gorgeous bags for 50% off...but it still cost them each over $200. I hope they get their money's worth! I'm not sure I could spend that much on a purse.

So, now it's back to the old grind. A weekend was a nice treat...but I really think I needed longer to recharge.