Get Outta My House

Family of Converse

The triple threat has been conversed.  Converted to the Converse addiction.  I love these sneakers.  I sported green and purple in my pre triple threat days and then mellowed to gray, black, and now brown.  I bought Lillian her first pair in red before she turned one.  That same pair was passed to Grady and are now worn by Dempsey.  Today, Grady got blue.  Lillian got....well 80's.  Not sure how else to describe them.  They are zebra stripe with neon splashes of pink, green, and blue.  They are hot.  Love the 80's, love the shoes.

Miss Rachael came over to babysit for date night.  Bringing with her three huge boxes.  One for each member of the triple threat.  They created their own houses, with Miss Rachael's help.  Lillian is very protective of hers.  Grady wanted to come in.  "Not until Thursday," she told him (it just happened to be Thursday).  She's confused. I remind her of the day of the week.  "Not until Saturday," she changes her mind.  "Get outta my house," she grumbles.  I can't help but think of one of my favorite 80's movies, Adventures in Babysitting.  Poor Rachael, if only she was old enough.  Maybe she would take comfort.

(in a telephone booth in the bus station)
Brenda: Chris I'm begging you, it's really scary here. I've just seen three people shoot up, a bald Chinese lady with no pants on, and there's this old guy outside who wants his bedroom slippers!
Old Man: [banging on telephone booth] Get out of my house!
Brenda: [kicks out a small box and the guy's slippers] You just moved!
Source

Dempsey's kickin' people outta his house too

Grady just wants to be like Old Man Lillian.  Sometimes this works in my favor.  I'm a non potty trainer.  Like gag me with a spoon.  It's just so gross.  I don't want to deal with it.  Old Man Lillian figured it out for  herself.  I was planning on waiting it out with Grady as well.  However, pool season is quickly approaching and Grady is not allowed in the big pool unless he is potty trained.  So this week I decided to tempt my candy addict with M & M's for poop and pee.  One for pee, two for poop.   Tonight he peed four times and pooped three times...in one hour.  This is what the third poop looked like.

Can two year olds get hernias?  Pushin' for M & M's.  I'll let you know.  Maybe this wasn't the correct approach.  Where did I put that damn instructional booklet?  Oh, that's right, they don't give you one.  Where the hell is my lawyer?    "It's hard to poop Wiwwian."  Grady tells Lil.  "Oh, I can do it,"  she responds.  "It's just hard to get it out sometimes."

Convert defintion, according to Webster's:  To bring over from one belief, view, or party to another.  In other words...you used to think light up Toy Story shoes rocked the casbah,  now you heart your blue Converse.  You used to crap in your pants.  Now you crap in a bowl.  For M & M's.   Converse, crapping in a bowl, and M & M's.  I'd convert.   I just crapped in my Converse.  How many M & M's do I get for that?

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Why My Way Works

We took the triple threat to a kite festival on Saturday.  Kites were bought and Saturday morning arrived.  We drive to one of our favorite parks.  We unload.  And Grady only wore one shoe.  So he goes barefoot.   "Do you know how to fly a kite?"  I ask Sean.  A little late I suppose.  At this point does it really matter what the answer is.  He puts the ladybug together.  The penguin is next.  "I think you're supposed to run while you do it." I tell Sean.  That's how I would do it anyway.  Not that I've ever gotten a kite into the air by myself before.  "Do you see anyone else running?"  Sean asks me.  I look around.  Nope.  No one is running.  Well except for Dempsey.  But he doesn't have a kite.  He's just trying to find a new family.  Do you see anyone else with a kite up their ass?  Nope.  But it doesn't mean it's not about to happen.  Just sayin'.

Dempsey finds a new family

The penguin and the ladybug

I love festivals and I love this time of year.  The kids fly through the back yard.  Self identified as Super Girl, Super Boy, and Super Baby.  Lillian coaches Grady on foot placement in order to properly scale the fence and unlock the gate.  They drown caterpillars.  They call me a poopy butt one hundred and nine times a day.  I try to teach them good manners.  I tell them poopy butt is not a nice word.  "What if God decided poopy butt was a nice word?"  Lil wants to know.  I don't think he has the authority.  He granted that to parents.  At least we get to be in charge of something.   Lillian farts.  I tell her not to fart in front of people.  "But what if it's a quiet fart?"  She asks.  Grady props his penis on a bucket in the bathtub.  Then pees, in arc form, onto Lillian.  Lillian laughs.  Then she stands up and pees on him.  Please don't pee on people.  I promise Grady if he pees on the potty instead of on his sister, I will give him one M & M.  Two for pooping...on the potty...not on his sister.  He sits on the toilet.  And pees.  "It's hard to poop."  He tells me.  "How 'bout just pee?  How 'bout M & M's?"  He reasons.

Drowned caterpillars

Sean patiently untangles many kite strings on Saturday.  He gets both kites in the air, without running.   I don't really try to stick a kite up his butt.   Just in case you wanted to know though.  And I know you do.  My way does work.  The kids did it by themselves.  They still listen to me.  Only on Saturdays.  They ran.  Kites flopping, like fish out of water, behind them.  Until they were up in the air.  The ladybug and the penguin.  Flying high for daddy to see.  I see somebodies running.  And their kites are in the air.  Just sayin'.

Why is dad not running...

Dempsey tried to run

Lil's running


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Mommy Licked the Dentist

If it was socially acceptable I would have made out with a receptionist today.  And licked my dentist.  Because that's what Grady does to show his affection.  I learned it by watching you son. So shoot me.  I'm annoying.  I floss everyday, brush my teeth every time I change a diaper (don't even try to figure out that correlation), and lick see my dentist every six months.  

I took just the Dempster to my biannual cleaning this morning.  The most incredible receptionist runs this office.  She is the mother of three teen aged boys, all a year apart.  And she always has watched one, or two, or three of my children while I have my checkup.  This morning, Dempsey balked.  And he's the one that will go to anyone.  Not today.  He ended up on my lap.  Huddled and pissed that I had abandoned him at the front desk.  All was well for the first half.  I had given him a pop.  Because that's what this family is known for.  He ate that, then ate the stick.  And contemplated his payback.  It happened so fast.  There I was, reclined, baby gyrating on my chest, having poop scraped off my teeth, all the while making googly eyes at my dentist.  Dempsey sat up, grabbed the cup of spit water, and dumped it on me.  Then for good measure, he ripped off my bib.  Dr. Iwanttolickyou, just laughed, smiled, nodded, and continued.  Like any good man should.  Remind me again when my husband's next appointment is?  Can I lick you now?

In most families, the flu runs rampant.  In ours, it's naughtiness. Mommy trying to lick the dentist was the grand finale.  Lillian started it on Monday.  I blame her.  Sean told her she needed to listen to mommy.  She told him she wasn't naughty because she didn't listen, it was because she is crazy.  And the cut on her toe made her do it.  Her cut, by the way, reminds me of my boobs.  You think they're there, but they're really not.   He reminded her that at a year and a half  she had a huge cut on her forehead, and she wasn't crazy then.  Note to self, have Sean evaluated for Alzheimer's.  Lillian insisted that now that scar must be coming back to haunt her and making her crazy years later.  Have Lillian evaluated for Alzheimer's. 

I called my mom tonight to tell her my tale of woe.  Grady got on the phone.  "Who are you?" He asked her.  Have Grady's evaluated for Alzheimer's. 



Benched for naughtiness.  I heart television.

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While they sleep

So I thought he was crazy.  I know, what right do I have.  Thinking someone else is crazy.  But I just didn't understand it.  He ran Batman style, onto the field, at a recent Oriole's game, and was banned for life from future games.  Banned.  For life.  Really?  While I don't understand the thrill,  the penalty seems a bit harsh to me.  And honestly, the guy is right.  How will they ever keep track of that?  It was on his bucket list.  He had to do it. 

Hey, I do lots of crazy things too.    I put sunscreen on myself and Lillian this afternoon.  I even attempted to reapply, as directed.  But had no idea where I put the sunscreen.  Until I opened the refrigerator. 

When the boys are napping, Lil and I can conquer the world. Today, for example, not only did we mow, weed, water, plant, and spray paint...we chopped down a tree.  Yes.  Chopped.  Down.  A.  Tree.  We thought we were pretty cool.  Take that tree.  The tree was dead, it had to come down.  And we were just the women to do it.  Lil was getting into death mode this morning when she flung piggy from the top bunk and declared him dead.  Sorry piggy.  Wonder what was on his bucket list.

On Sunday, after Lil's soccer practice, we took the triple threat to see a professional women's soccer game.  Grady ran, Batman style, onto the field.  Hey, get that kid, someone yells.  I look to the person next to me with my, whose kid is that? expression.  I've perfected that expression.  It was on my bucket list.  And really...who can keep track of which kids are mine anyway?   At least they still let him get autographs.  Banned for life?  Try branded for life.  Mother of the triple threat.

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Conversations In My Head

I never drank coffee until 2 years ago.  I believe it was right around the time Grady started crawling...and biting the outlet covers out of the sockets.  It's not that I didn't like the taste of coffee, I just didn't like hot drinks.  And never felt like I needed the caffeine.  What the hell was I thinking?  Coffee is awesome!  I love coffee so much now in fact, I want it to be as thick and black as a Guinness.  Sean on the other hand, prefers a Miller Lite.  Therein lies the problem.  Sean and my battle over the coffee every morning.  We've said for months we should buy a Keurig.  But I just can't bring myself to buy one when we have a perfectly good coffee maker.  And what can I say, we didn't even buy this one.  It's my parent's reject.  But...it makes coffee.  And if I do it, it comes out just perfect.  Sean's gotten sneaky about it though.  We race downstairs in the morning to be the first one to press the start button.  If Sean gets there first, he dumps in extra water.  If I get there first, I dump in extra caffeine.  I only have time to get about half a cup in before a member of the triple threat sticks a toy it it, pees in it, or dumps it on the floor.  So I gotta get the most bang for my buck. 


Coffee is so fabulous in fact, it didn't even bother me the other morning when Lillian told me my vagina looked like a worm.  Worms are cool I thought.  See...it was the coffee thinking for me.   I actually have entire conversations in my head after I've had coffee.  I ask people questions and make up the answers for them.  Let me just tell you, those are the best kinds of discussions to have.  Hooray for coffee.  When Sean pretends I didn't tell him something.  I just say, oh yes I did.  And if you'd stop dumping so much water into the coffee, you'd remember the answer I made up for you.  It was, yes dear.

Lil on her 'cell phone' telling her peeps about the worm

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Mass Sex Is The Best Sex...Or So I've Been Told

I'm used to the stares.  People trying to figure out if they're all mine and if they are...what the hell was that crazy woman thinking.  I'm used to the questions.  Are they all yours?  How far apart are they?  Are two of them twins?  Do they all nap?  And the statements.  Boy, you sure do have your hands full.  I don't know how you do it.  You must sleep good at night.  Then there are the elders,  who tell me about raising their own young family, with even more kids.  Perhaps 10 under 6.  I get worried.  Please don't touch me, I might catch it. Then it happened.  Something I have neither seen nor heard before. Someone hollered to me from their car window.  I was walking into Sears, with Dempsey on my back, and Lil and Grady at each side holding a hand.  "They say mass sex is the best kind of sex!" The male voice shouts.  Did someone really just yell that?  Or are those voices coming back?  I thought I got rid of those.  Must call doctor.  Lil looks up at me and says, "Mom, I think he's talking to you."

When I think about giving birth to three kids in three and a half years, it does seem crazy. I forget that I did it.  It never felt like the kids were born that close together.  I cannot imagine my life any other way.  In fact, I think I'd pick my nose more.  I'd be bored...and I'd miss the snot.  Without the triple threat, I would miss out on the hunts for Bigfoot, and I wouldn't know nearly as much about him as I do. Like the fact that he eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the front yard...at night...while we sleep... and he litters.  He has robbed Sears.  And tried to attack the Easter Bunny.  I wouldn't have experienced the delightful sound of Karma Chameleon being played by dueling recorders while we are all trapped riding in the van.  My parents bought the children recorders for Easter.  Why?  You ask.  Because they hate me.  I was aware they didn't quite like me as much once the grandchildren were born, but honestly, I never thought they'd take it this far.  I would never know that a 14 month old could scale a wall to reach a slide and master a ladder to a top bunk.  The same top bunk passed up by his brother and sister...so they can sleep together on the bottom. 

Dempsey spotted Bigfoot

Our best Easter picture...

Easter bunny or Bigfoot???

I wouldn't know that I'm fun too.  Because after all, where else do they learn this stuff?  I check around for Bigfoot when there's a big mess in the kitchen.  I shout out all the wrong words when Karma Chameleon comes on.  I scale the walls every day, hoping there is a secret escape hatch in my ceiling.  And I sleep with my brother husband too. I try to set a good example, and I hope I can teach them as much as they teach me. 

And I'm really going to try to keep this mass sex thing under control.  I am a mother after all.   I'll blame it on their father.


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If You Let Me Use Yours...You Can Use Mine

I have a small obsession with fingernails and toenails.  Dirty nails drive me nuts.  Every mom has at least one.  A pet peeve.  That's mine.  I clip each child's nails on the days that I feed them.  Sixty nails,  every three days.  In fact, up until a year ago, I couldn't stand the white part of my own nails.  Cut it all off.   It would only be fitting that I've passed this insanity onto one of my children.

Lil and I took Finn to her well doggy visit this week.  Of course, I asked them to clip her nails. Lillian decided she wanted to keep one.  A dog toenail.  To remember Finn by... when she dies, Lillian reasoned.  Nice.  "Can we get a puppy when Finn dies?" She asked.  No other dog could handle you, or your brothers.  And please hush before the veterinarian comes in and hears you discussing our dog's death.  They don't want to lose out on the mortgage payment they're charging us just to let us know we need to clean her ears out.  She can hear just fine.  She just chooses not too.  The triple threat taught her that trick.  Finn isn't kicking the bucket any time soon.  I'm pretty sure of it because she told me so.  Oh, Finn doesn't talk?  But apparently other dogs do.  Lillian wanted to know why Finn couldn't go back into the exam room by herself?  "Because she can't speak for herself," I told her.  Lil watched another dog be escorted back, sans owner.  "That dog must be able to talk," she told me.  Ten minutes, and hundreds of dollars later,  Finn got a clean bill of health and Lillian got a vial to store the toenail.  I want that job.

After the visit we went to Rite Aid.  Lillian flashed her vial of toenail.  "What's that?"  the clerk questioned.  I need to start carrying a sign, Please don't speak to the children.  Lil dumped it out on the counter for her.  The poor old woman nearly fell over.  I'm sure she wished she never asked.  "That's interesting," she politely commented.  In other words... your offspring is scaring the Depends right out of my panties,  please remove her...and the toenail... from the premises.  What?  You didn't see the sign?  Next stop, the beer store.  Lil shook it out onto the black and white, marble floor... to have a little play time.  We'll never find that thing again I thought.  Win for me.  No such luck.  She found it.  Home again, home again, jiggity jig.  Next it appeared on the dining room table.  Dinner's ready!  Love that easy button.  Remind me why we buy toys...or dinner... again? 

I keep an old toothbrush in the bathtub to scrub nails with.  Hoping for a trimming reprieve.  Never works.  The kids would rather use it to brush their teeth.  We do have clean toothbrushes for that.  Another one of my obsessions.  So I lied, I have more than one.  I buy toothbrushes in bulk.  From Target, four to a pack, for $1.97.  Four different colors.  Everyone gets assigned thier favorite color.  Until they have a new favorite color the next day.  And decide to trade. 

If you cut your nails...or brush your teeth...vote for me.  Your dentist will thank you for it.

Naughty Mom Eats Ice Pop

It was the salsa that did me in.  My favorite kind too.  Southwest corn salsa.  I ate it.  The whole container.  Twenty four hours later, it all came back up.  Poisoning by Lent.  I wasn't supposed to eat meat, so I had to eat something exciting.  This way I got to eat it twice.  Dear God, I apologize for eating the whole container.  I promise it will never happen again.  Can you change the whole Friday deal?  Like maybe we could give up southwest corn salsa?  Or maybe you could shorten Lent.  Just by a week or so?  Thank you for addressing my concerns.  Here's a twenty.  Buy yourself a hot dog.

I was glad to know it was food specific and not a stomach bug.  My never ending patience, love for poop, eagerness to clean sippy cup plugs with Q-tips....all qualities I'd like to pass onto my children.  Vomiting, not so much.  Grady was not going to let me off that easy.  This morning I found him with a bowl of raw egg, slurping it up... just to prove...something. 

I know other mothers wonder about me.  They point out that one of my children is eating rocks, licking random empty potato chip bags lying on the ground, chewing and swallowing an entire container of Bubble Tape, or perhaps sucking on the shopping cart.  I may feign utter revoltion, but moms can tell.   I don't give a crap.   Maybe I forgot to give them their vitamins.  Or maybe they're hoping the other mom will whip out some fruit snacks instead.  Or maybe I just figure anything is better than raw egg.

This year for Lent I gave up sweets and soda.  I've slipped a few of times.  I should have done better.  I gave up the same things last year, so I had some practice.  Looking for other ideas?  For a few years, in a show of solidarity, Sean and I gave up birth control.  We were so good at it in fact, we continued with our promise throughout the year. Super performers, I think technically is how they refer to people like us.

I drank a sip of the kid's soda.  Totally by accident I swear.  It was root beer...and I don't even like root beer.  I ate a jelly bean, but felt so bad while chewing it that I spit it out.  When I was really desperate, I ate Froot Loops.  A shameful secret I know.  When I was sick...from being forced to eat southwest corn salsa due to lack of meat...I totally would have drank an unholy soda, if there was any in the house.  There wasn't.  So I ate an ice pop.  And I didn't spit it out.

I think that Lillian is in more trouble than me anyway.  She had two dollars and a quarter to put in the offering basket at Mass today.  After the basket passed through, I looked over....and she still had the quarter.  She'll be throwing up tomorrow.


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