At five weeks we fit in the same pac & play.
Slept in the same Boppy.
Today we turn five YEARS.
The Princess
The Booger
Happy Durpay babies.
Your Mommy loves you!
Your Daddy loves you!
Your Mama loves you!
(Yes I know I showed pictures. But Boog is cleverly disguised. Feel free to report me for showing their pictures so that I CAN SEE A JUDGE)
Also keep us in your prayers that this is the last birthday they celebrate in foster care.
Parenting is not for the faint of heart, mind or spirit. Nor is it for the easily distracted. I fall into one of those categories, and if you are new here, it won’t take you long to figure out which.
On Thursday the twins had their Christmas program. They are the oldest kids in the preschool, and you guessed it, they came almost last. OK yawning. I know, I love kids, mine. Yours? Not so much. Ironic, I know, half of my children were once someone elses.
So, our morning started out with the Princess wanting to wear her program outfit. Which was “Sunday best”, not suitable for a day at school with arts and crafts, so “no”. Well, you’d think I’d told Paris her purse-a-poodle had to stay outside. DRAMA.
She got to school where her teacher explained the same thing I had, that the program was not until night time. Which appeased her two hour fit. Why do kids believe anything that their teachers say? I used to drive my mom crazy with “Mr. Martin said….”
Speaking of “Sunday best” we attend a church where the dress code is “dressed”. Anything goes. Really. So, how much time and energy do you think I’ve put into dressing up the boys? Less time than it took me to write this sentence. So…..
I had to go shopping, and boy did Mommy score on some “Sunday best” ness for Boog. I will be taking applications for his future wife. Just email me.
Buying cuteness, was not enough, I would also wash it, and as button ups tend to do, the button holed side of the shirt got all wrinkly. Meaning I had to iron. I don’t. But since The teacher thinks I’m a horrible foster parent, I decided to prove her wrong. I might even use starch. Nothing motivates me more than spite. Boog was going to look good, because looking good is proof positive of good parenting. I don’t care how many times the f-word was used in the process of getting him so darned handsome.
Of course the whole ironing process brought about many questions. “what’s that? What’s it do? Why are you doing that?” Blah blah blah, leave me alone, I’m trying to prove that I can fake it with the best of them. Felpsy questioned as to it’s particular brand of hotness. I said. VERY, don’t touch. After completing the ironing, I unplugged the iron, wrapped the cord around it and set it on the counter. Not a nanosecond after turning my back, Felpsy was headed straight for it. That boy cannot fight the impulse to do the exact opposite of what he is told.
“Suit up babies.”
And we were off. Everyone looking all Sunday best and what not.
Radical asked if he could play his DS during the program. No, but Mommy can text. (He has much better parents than I did.)
Turned out that DS playing would have been less rude.
Shortly after sitting down, I thought we had made a huge mistake. Like sitting directly on top of a dead body type of mistake. There was a foul and unpleasant odor.
Turns out the boys were having a farting contest.
I LOVE boys.
Kids did their cute thing. Princess asked us about 10,000 times “Did you LOVE it?” Yes, baby we loved it.
We were instructed to gather our kids after their performance and have them sit with us until the end of the program. There were two classes after the twins’. We made it through one. Because upon hearing about the awesome farting contest he’d missed, Boog decided he wanted in. But having been warned to NOT have a farting contest, Felpsy had to make up new rules that resembled nothing like a farting contest. It involved sitting on each others hands so that noise would be unnecessary. Did I mention how much I LOVE boys.
Despite their behavior we had to eat, and since it was the twins’ celebration they got to choose. We went to “Pa Playa” which is not the name of the restaurant. But my Hispanic kids have been living with us too long. Proven later when Felpys got a smidge of jalepeno juice in his mouth. He thinks Medium Pace is too spicy. This was about to kill him, until he found a new obsession. I pointed out the jalepenos and told him that was the source of his discomfort. He then touched it. I then told him not to touch his eyes or nose or mouth until he washed his hands. Guess who went straight for his eyeball?
We had a fine dinner. And neither of twins ate theirs. We then waited for the check. And waited. And waited. I hate waiting. I then sent Tech Support and the kids out to the car hoping that they would see an empty table and come running. Before he left me he said “You will be paying right?” Like suddenly I became a check skipper after 13 years. Then I realized that he was probably verbally reinforcing to both of us that it was my responsibility to make sure it was taken care of . Because as I mentioned earlier, I am easily distracted.
I paid. I tipped. I left. Finally.
We drove around looking at Christmas lights, and came home and fought about going to bed. I’m ready to just pile them three deep and hope for the best. It’s exhausting. I eventually win, but only until I go to sleep, they then quickly get themselves into the positions that they were fighting for all along. So is it really a win?
The one advantage of not putting them into a pile is that when I put them in their own bed they feel they have to sneak to a community sleeping arrangement, therefore they are quiet. If they start in a pile, there is usually a farting contest or an “I can say ‘weiner’ more times than you can say it before Mom comes in here and shows us her crazy face.”
One of these days I will feel nostalgic for this time,
and this is just a guess, but bail money will probably be involved somehow.
We are suffering the after effects of the time change, and by suffering I mean suffering. Every day has been marked with someone taking a nap at a clearly inappropriate time. Currently the five year old is fast asleep, drooling in a pile. We haven’t had dinner. What we had was lots of cookies because we were hungry, but it wasn’t dinner time so we had a snack that got out of hand, and now he is full of cookies and napping.
I hate the time change.
For that and there is always a clock that gets left out, and you spend way too much time wondering if it is really that time, before deciding to go check another clock only to get distracted by something shiny or whiny and another day passes and it never gets changed.
That and
are you supposed to change your smoke detector batteries on fall back or spring forward? I forget so I do it on both, yet the time between fall and spring has gotten significantly shorter so it seems a waste, but if I don’t do it both I will never do it.
Speaking of which, I think it’s time for a fire inspection.
Which means it’s time for a health inspection, which means I have to buy outlet covers, yes my kids are beyond the need for outlet covers, but golly, they cannot be taught not to touch them. As we know kids cannot override those tricky outlet covers. Once again gov’ment knows best.
Speaking of which, I heard today on the radio, which is a reliable source of news, that California is dealing with their illegal immigrant problem by busing their “detainees” to Texas to a town of 4200. Every day they bring 94 detainees and deposit them in said town until their hearing on whether or not they can stay in the U.S. even though they entered illegally. So, where does a town of 4200 house said detainees until their hearing, they can’t. So, they have to release them with a citation and hearing date, any wagers on how many of them show up for their hearing? So instead of busing them across the border where they entered, they put them on a bus, travel out of California, through Arizona, through New Mexico and dump them here. Now they are a bazillion miles from their family in Mexico, in a town that has not the resources to house or feed them. Welcome to Texas.
While listening to that I saw a guy walking down the street openly carrying a fire arm. Which is super sexy to someone whose favorite Amendment is the 2nd. I pondered on FB which was sexier. Concealed or open carry. But that’s like asking what’s sexier, a man in uniform, or out of one. Completely redundant.
I had my first opportunity to assess our winter clothing needs. We are covered in 17 of 49 categories. Probably more I need to go through a few closets yet. Unfortunately I do not need a new coat. I mean I so rarely get to buy one. Truth time. We once discussed my desire to buy a coat in counseling. Yes, can you tell Tech Support and I have been through rough times? Fighting over whether or not I should buy a $79 coat. So trivial. We don’t fight about things like that anymore, most of our fights are about who’s a dork and who isn’t. Nobody wins that fight.
The twins decided today that they wanted to go on vacation and ride a donkey. Better yet a donkey/dragon hybrid like in Shrek. Yeah, that would be awesome.
I went to Chic-fil-A for lunch. Ours has a very jacked up lunch time mess. They have people in the parking lot who take your order and call it in on their cell phone. That and their parking lot was designed by a monkey. So, that aside, I was placing my order and reading blogs on my cell phone and the order taker said she had the same phone as I did. Cool. And as if to prove it to me, I guess I looked shocked that SHE would have a phone like mine. She dug through her pockets to show it to me. OKaaaay.
Tech Support went to school today to volunteer for the whole day. I did not kill his dog. Yes I’m the very model of self control. He left 15 minutes ago for a meeting and the dog is already barking non-stop and will continue to do so until the man returns. He may not be so lucky tonight.
I feel it is time to feed myself. I, contrary to the prevailing thought of child educators, must take care of myself. I know, I should be a martyr and kill not only myself but my marriage to make sure the littles and the bigs have only the best of everything. Sorry, not buying it.
Big Boy is mooing. I should really go check that out.
