Unhinged

Some days I feel as though I have my very own special psychiatric ward here in my home, filled with bipolar patients who rapidly cycle through their moods. Between having a toddler, a teenager, and a 5 year old (I am firmly convinced that children at that age have little mini hormonal cycles just like a woman...), there is enough lability of mood to make the makers of Depakote go nuts.  Between Charlie's dramatic temper tantrums about being prevented from running out in traffic, Alexis's conviction that she is the ONLY ONE IN HER ENTIRE GRADE who had to wear long sleeves, and Elizabeth's just general teen-ness, I am about to go completely unhinged myself.

And yet...I would not trade it for the world.  My children are both my sanity and my madness.  I come home from work on days like today, when I am surrounded by desperation and pain and hopelessness, and I see why I do what I do.  It is because there is hope in Charlie's "muwah's"  (kisses) that she gives me when I get home from work.  There is still innocent joy in Alexis begging me to play on the trampoline with her.  There is promise in my conversations I have with Elizabeth.  There is sheer delight in the way that they all play together.  The simple pleasure that I get in making dinner for my family, in watching them grow and learn and become women.  In seeing the development of their personalities, their growth as human beings.

I am humbled by watching them become just generally fantastic people.  Bright, creative, funny, caring.  It makes all of the insanity worth it.

Conversations IX

My brother in law, after eating a sundae that consisted of a peanut butter sauce filled chocolate mini cake, hot fudge, peanut butter sauce, a Reese's cup, and peanut butter and fudge swirled peanut butter cup ice cream (with some whipped cream and two cherries on it):

"I have not put anything this unhealthy in my body for a long time, and right now by body is saying to me, 'You asshole'."


Elizabeth's father texted her a picture of her sister with their cat and the message that the cat had died.  I asked her if they were going to get a new cat.  Her response?

"No, Mom.  You can't just get a new cat to replace the old one.  It is just not the same.  They have their own personalities.  It is like asking someone if they were going to have a new baby to replace the old one when it died.  That's just wrong."

I did ask her if she realized that she just compared a cat to a baby and she just shrugged.  I may  need to rethink this whole baby-sitting thing here...


Talking to Charles's cousin about her new baby:

Cousin:  Yeah, she has a lot of hair on her head.  And some on her back too.

Cousin's husband:  Yeah, she is going to be like her daddy and just have a blanket.

Me, to Charles:  Maybe that is what I need to do!  I need to grow some back hair!  I wonder how I could make that happen so I am not always cold...

Few minutes later, talking about covering yourself up while in bed because if you don't the serial killer who lives under your bed will GET YOU AT NIGHT!!!

Charles:  Eh, I  always have to have my arms out.  I can't stand to have my hand covered, even if they are cold.

Cousin's husband, to me:  See?  If you figure out the back hair thing, he can just bury his hands in there to keep them warm!  LIKE A BLANKET!!!

(Obviously it takes a special kind of person to marry into this family....)

Random III

Charlie came home from daycare with a rather large goose egg down the middle of her forehead.  She was running and tripped and bashed her head into a table.  I guess she made that table her bitch.  She OWNS that table now.  Honestly, I am just glad that she was not climbing on that table and dancing on it.  She is my child, though to look at her appearance one would have to strongly question her maternity.

She also has another fucking ear infection and her tubes are clogged again.  What is the average cost of raising a child up to now?  All I gots to say is, she better go to a cheap ass college or get a full ride scholarship because she is totally using up all of that money on her medical bills now.  Cause you know, once she hits that average I am so cutting her off and making her get a job...

Alexis has learned the art of stalling.  Specifically, dragging out bedtime routine so she does not have to go to bed.  I decided to go all Love and Logic on her ass and stop nagging because really, it is way too much effort.  I told her that she would have to start making up the time the next day, meaning that she would have to go to bed earlier, and that by my calculations she needed to go to bed now.  Parent of the year I am not, but it got my point across.

Elizabeth just told me that there was a slug on her shoe (which was really my shoe she was wearing...) and that she had wiped it off.  Not only did she wipe it off, but she disinfected the shoe.  Then she told me that she had a slug in her hair as well.  I did not ask questions.  Sometimes it is just better that way.  Though I do wonder if she disinfected her hair as well...