annieology

This ain’t my first rodeo.  I’ve been watching poorly dressed men hide behind barrels some twenty years now.  If you don’t get that reference, then, I guess, it IS your first.  So, here are some tips.

Get them ready the night before – Most parenting sites have this tip.  Pick out their clothes the night before.  If you want to be truly awesome, DRESS them the night before.  Why go thru the hassle of a wardrobe change at 7:00 a.m. when you can can completely eliminate it.  This will give the kids five more minutes of sleep, and I think we can all agree how important sleep is.

Feed them.  Or don’t.  I’ve had 24 kids.  Some eat in the morning.  Some don’t.  They all should, you can lead a horse to water and all.  You want to make your morning truly enjoyable (a total living hell) get into a power struggle with a five year old about the amount of milk there is or isn’t in a bowl of Cheerio’s.  #lose #lose

School supplies.  They should have some.  Unsure of what to get?  Things to write with.  Things to write on.  Maybe some glue.  If you feeling particularly self important get a binder.  I’ve discovered that it doesn’t matter what you send that first day, they always come home with a list, or 15 of things that are also needed.  I take advantage of the fact that everyone else is home filling out 72 pages of “who can pick up my kid” type paperwork and go hit the stores after I get the addendum’s. Plus, everything is on sale so I buy two and am prepared for next year. (as far as you know)

Get them to bed at a reasonable time.

Who am I?

God?

Can I perform miracles?  No.  Plus, if they have to fall asleep during math a couple of times to learn that sleep is important, so be it.  If they get left behind, not my problem.  I am quite comfortable with the fact that some kids do need to be left behind, maybe even mine.  Let’s be honest now, someone is holding your kid back, you know it.  Your little Susie is not that stupid.

Pack them a nutritious lunch.  Or if you live in my town, don’t.  I’m still begging Jamie Oliver to come to our town, which is the fattest city in America.  I have a bit of foodie crush on him, and after having been stuck in London during the Volcano thingy earlier this spring, Tech Support may not ever take me back.  Let’s pause a moment while I drool over the bruschetta again.

Expect the worst.  They may not miss you.  You’ll be fine.  Just think about how much cleaning you can get done when they aren’t following behind you squishing blueberries and chocolate into the berber.

Today, a poem.

Vomit before sunrise.

Three loads of laundry.

Breakfast.

Waiting. Whining. Wailing.

Last day of summer camp?

We Throw Frisbees?

and now the random

Where the hell did my summer go?  Hello, Twitter.  You know you owe me at least three weeks.  Dr. Pepper is following me on Twitter.  Coca-Cola however is not.  I can take a hint.  Not well.  But I can.

Have I ever told you that my neighbors named their dog after me?  Yes.   I hate going outside only to hear,

“ANNIE STOP POOPING IN THE NEIGHBORS YARD.”

sorry, but technically…it is MY yard.

We have a new CPS worker.  She is “sending” me paperwork that I need to enroll the orphans into school.  I’ll keep you posted.  Don’t hold your breath.  Feel free to cross your fingers, but I don’t want anyone passing out.

I just remembered I haven’t gone to a turtle release this year.  What the heck kind of coastal resident am I?  I’m calling them now….August 11-15 ish.  Yay.  I love to do that.  Why do I always wait until the last one?  At the end of the summer, when I’m tired and my hopes are dashed.  When my kids know less than they did three months ago…

Oh, to be young and hopeful again.

I will be almost 40 in about four weeks.  Not 40, that is a year away, I have a year of people saying “oh, you’re almost 40″ thank you math genius.  Let’s just skip 39 and be 40 because I think almost 40 is going to be worse.  I don’t know why.  It reminds me of high school.  Oh, you’re almost old enough to drive, vote, drink…not necessarily in that order, but never at the same time.  Yeah, I know.  There is something awesome on the other side of the curtain, thanks .

Anyway….I gotta get up early, there is a breakfast session at #HomeHer10 – I think it’s called, “Mom has a headache and I didn’t teach you to use the microwave for no reason.”

When I was a kid I had to wait for someone to drag their ass to a stove to cook breakfast for me, there weren’t no fancy microwavable breakfasts, not that we were allowed anywhere near that thing lest we become forever sterile and ridden with tumors.  My kids are lucky.

When you have multiples, you tend to think of them as a package deal.  The twins, the trips, the littles, whatever.  They are hardly ever Felpsy, Boog, and Princess.

So, this summer, needing constant entertainment, as well as choreographed dance routines performed to the likes of Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus, I signed the trips up for Latchkey.  Daycare at the local school.   Because, given the choice of choreographing a dance routine to songs sung by people I deny even exist or allowing someone else to,  I chose the latter.

I’ve been keeping one of the kids home on non-field trippy days.  Monday, Boog and I bought Lego-opolis and he learned new swear words.

Today, I took Felpsy shopping.  He’s the big boy so he’s always in need of clothes, while Boog, always seems to have some,  hmm?  Also, his water shoes had shrunk over the past year and he needed a new pair.  He, however, had envisioned new tennis shoes.  That little breakdown in communication turned into a screaming, crying fit in the middle of the mall.   Leading me to wonder whose idea it was to have kids in the first place.  While quickly resolved, only reminded me that they do not have individual behavior skills.  They are used to group regulation, and with the group gone….mayhem.

We ended up getting a cheap pair of flip flops, and a pair of water shoes.  Both super satisfying, and you’ll be proud of me for not being mean to the Payless person when she asked if I wanted to get a pair for myself.

Umm, have you met me?  Imelda Awesome?  Thought not.  I do not buy shoes at Payless, thankyouverymuch.

On to the shirt buying.

What do you think of this shirt?

I don’t know.  Is it  a cool kid shirt?

I like it.

Can you call Sk8rboi and ask him?

I am uncertain what the “cool kid” shirts are.  I just went through this with Radical.  He does not wear clothing that is not Sk8rboi approved.  So, I am no longer necessary in the clothing department.

In the words of Forrest, Forrest Gump…”I guess that’s one less thing.”

Speaking of shirts.  I got a new one, and there is a bit of pinkish material that sticks out on it a bit, in an interesting location.  I don’t know how many times today I caught a glimpse of myself somewhere and immediately panicked at the thought I was having a “wardrobe malfunction”.   Only then to wonder why I would think that I had left my nipple in the northeast quadrant of my boob.  duh

Still.  Got my heart racing more than once.

One of the other activities Felpsy wanted to do on his special day was to “play cooking show”  or as it’s called in most parts of the world, “cooking.”

In rounding out the all things Felpsy day, he wanted to work the remote in the living room.  Usually he has as much chance getting the remote as he does getting the keys to the nice car.   Sure, it happens, but only when I’ve been drinking.

Anyway, he surfed channels like a guy, approximately 12 channels per minute, and so as not to say a word I took a nap.  All in all it was a good day.  He even held my hand while we walked around town.

Feeling all close and not, I grabbed his hand in the parking lot of the school when we went to pick up the other two.

REJECTED.  He could not get his hand away from me fast enough.

Alright.  Point taken.

Tomorrow is a parenting recovery day.  All kids will be cared for by college students and I will be going for burritos with my friend.  All in preparation for her highness, Little Miss Sunshine herself.  Princess will be staying with me on Friday.  Guess I should get some sleep.