Wordless Wednesday

I have no idea how it got there.

I have no desire to learn.

And I have even less of a desire to pull it out.

WTF kids, really???

I have one fleeting thought and its this: I'm sooo glad I saw it before I peed.

Yeah, I have deep thoughts.

Now somebody go get me the kitchen tongs.

And don't tell your father.

I'm so not the hero today.

So the other night I was trying to think of something new to do after the umpteenth time of watching How it's Made reruns and I had the bright idea of watching The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe with the kids.  See, we've been reading the book and it was on cable the other night, so I recorded it.

It was going to be perfect.  It was going to be great to see how the book differed from the movie and we could really work on story progression and character development---some things I've noticed that are becoming a weak spot for Alex as he's getting older.

"Hey guys, you know how we've been reading The Chronicles of Narnia?  Yeah??  Well, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was on cable last night so I recorded it.  Ya wanna watch it?"

"NO."  Came out of the older two kids mouths faster than me declining sex while on my period.  There are some thing I just don't do.

Anyway...

I'll save you all the gory details about how I bribed, wrangled, fed them popcorn in the living room, gave them money, got them to sit down long enough to watch the damn movie but we watched it.  I was happy.  Life was good.

Yeah, wrong.

A few hours later I hear Alex telling Lizzy, "I want to start doing things slow.  Like really slow.  That way things will be really boring and we can live longer."

What?!?  I could tell by the tone in his voice something was up.  Really up.

This continues all the way up to dinner time where Alex is eating slowly, moving slowly, talking slowly.  It was like stop-gap animation.  After turning into Sherlock-frigging-Holmes and practically a Dateline investigative report later, I finally wrangled out what was up his crawl.

I present to you the condensed version:

"Alex, why are you eating so slowly?  Does this have something to do with The Chronicles of Narnia?"

"Yeeeaaaah."

"Is it because the witch was mean?"

"Yeeeaaaah."  He starts sobbing.

"And because she turned all the animals into stone?"

"Yeeeaaaah, I don't wanna die.  I'm eating slowly so life can be boring.  It will make it appear that I'm living longer because I'm sooooo bored."

"Mkay.  Well, the good news is, you're not going to die.  The bad new is, you still have to eat your dinner."

See, in his mind all the animals the witch turned to stone were killed and dead.  Doesn't matter that Aslan breathes them back to life.  Oh no.  No, no, no.  Some of them legitimately died.  She kung-powed a few of them with her wand and they died where they stood.  Don't forget the few she blasted with her wand while they were flying and then, because they were rocks, smashed to bits when they landed.  Add to it at the end, Aslan basically eats the Witch and that pretty much sealed the deal.  It was all over.

Alex got the shit freaked out of him.

Thank you C.S. Lewis.

So I had a bright idea.

"Hey guys! Come on.  Lets go downstairs and watch Rango."

I was going to be a hero.  I was going to get him off death.  I was going to switch gears with another movie and I was going to save the day.

At this point in the action I have to tell you, I've never seen Rango before.  How bad could it be?  It had Johnny Depp.  I like Johnny Depp.  It was animated so it had to be safe.  And did I mention Johnny Depp?

I have never been so wrong in my entire life.

WRONG.  WRONG.  WRONG.

If you have ever seen Rango, you know my fate and are most likely laughing your ass off right now.

Rango makes the Witch in The Chronicles look like a pussy cat.  A fucking pussy cat.

To start off, Rango almost dies in the desert.  He lives, but immediately another character gets killed off.  Then another character gets killed.  And another.  At some point they have this fucking gun-shoot-em-up-rodeo-thing and there's a veritable blood bath of cartoon characters all being offed in rapid gunfire and puffs of smoke.

It was like the fucking Godfather of western animation.  They killed more characters than Pulp Fiction and to top it all off, there are these four snowy owls that make up a mariachi band all singing about Rango's demise and they never really shut the fuck up about the fact that he is going to die.

Can I get a big fuck you?

And last but not least, there is some shit kid-reptile-thing always asking Rango when he dies, "Can I get your boots?"

It was awful.  Just awful.

The whole time we were watching, it was like sitting in the middle of a four alarm fire.  "Did he die?  Mom, did he die?  Where'd he go?  Acccck, did they all just die?  They did die, didn't they???  Wait.  Oh no!  That one died too?!?  Accckkkk!"

The kids are sobbing.  I'm cussing.

In my brain it sounds like, "Fucking Rango.  Damn you Johnny Depp, I should have known better.  Come to think of it Alice in Wonderland was pretty fucked up.  So was Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  Damn it to hell, I'm such an idiot.  Between you and Helena Bonham Carter, you make me look sane."

And that is how I single-handedly pushed my kid right over the edge of reason.  If we were at the Grand Canyon, not only did my kid do a swan dive over the edge, I was right there to shove him off.

Anyone want to watch some How its Made?

It puts the lotion in the basket. And by basket I mean hair.

Right now we're in the midst of some trouble at school.  I mentioned it in my last post but it seems to have gone up a notch or two, or a thousand.  Alex has been sick in the mornings and he's punched not one but two children in the past two days.  And he's beside himself with worry.  Over what, I don't know.  I get his teacher being gone is a stressor but I'm of the opinion that something else is going on.  I'm worried sick about him and have pulled him from school yesterday and today as I feel the situation warrants it.  It's that bad.

I think I've come into my own with this Autism thing.  Never in a million years would I have dreamed I'd be pulling my kid from school for a few days.  I don't do it lightly.  I do it knowing it's what he needs right now.  

So today I give you this, something that I did which brought me back down to reality and garnered more time in the shower, all be it with at two year old pointing at my ass going, "Jiggly mama, jiggly mama!  More jiggly!"

I had this great idea I'll share with you.  I thought of using all those micro shampoo and conditioner bottles from trips we took ages ago, like so long ago we're talking pre-kids.  That means some of these things have been hitching a ride in my bathroom for years.  Years people, years.

Which means I packed their sorry asses from North Dakota and moved them down here.

I don't know if they're even any good at this point but damn-it, I'm cheap.  We had them and I was going to use them.

Can anyone see the difference between the two bottles down there?

You can???  Good.  Then next time you can get in the shower with me and read it so I don't put lotion in my hair again.  

And yeah, I just had a really bad visual of all of us in the shower trying to figure out what all those damn little bottles say.

You're welcome for that.  Now somebody pass the beach, I need to pour it in my eyes.


Note: I feel I should thank Grace for the way in which I wrote the title.  She talked like that in her last post and for some reason it's been stuck in my head.  I am also thanking Flannery for the Silence of the Lambs reference.  I believe in giving credit where credit's due, so thank you both.  

January you suck. February, you're not much better either.

I've been wallowing in a bit of a funk lately and I've been keeping it to myself.  It took me a while to figure out what was going on.  Generally, I'm not the kind of girl that figures things out on the first run.  Usually it takes a few cinder blocks to the head or some other form of blunt force trauma for me to get a good grasp on things.

Around here, when the kids are in a funk, it sorta rolls up to me until I put an end to it.  This time, the funks with me.  I've been the shitty one to live with.  I've been the one in a fowl mood.  Been writing downer posts and generally wanting to escape and get the hell out of my own life.

It's the time of year, I think.  The kids are in the grind of school, they're really starting to hate it, hate homework and everything else associated with that building.

Alex punched another kid at school and we're dealing with that.  His teacher's been out of town and will remain out for the rest of the week.  His routine is off, way off.  And the substitute is just that, a sub.  She doesn't know what the fuck is going on and doesn't really care that much to learn.  Alex, however, is hell-bent on letting her know all the rules and exactly which one she's breaking, when and how to correct it.  He's burning more brain cells worrying about the schedule, the class routine and how far off she is.  Its making me sick to watch him come unhinged the way he is.

Truth be told, I'm glad he knocked the little shit down a peg or two.  Honestly, he had it coming to him but really, the timing of things is not so good for me right now.  So much for not writing about school, eh?

And the whole time I've been in a funk.  Just pissed-off at everything.  Seething right under the surface.  I've been avoiding things and people.  But mostly I've been avoiding the one side of my closet.  I can't go back there.

It didn't hit me till I looked at the calender.  We're in January.  Getting toward the end of the month.

To the twenty-fourth.

The day my son died.

I hate this time of year.


My son died three years ago, when we were in North Dakota.  I couldn't bear the thought of burying him in the ground so we had him cremated.  His urn is in the back corner of my closet. 


I still can't go back there.  

Quiet Friday turned into a not so quiet Friday.

At some point during the last week, Lizzy and I crafted the hell out of a plain mirror and made this:

Then we went to the store and picked up some plants, stuffed them in a glass bowl and made this:

Trust me, both are prettier in person.  I think.

Or at least that's what I keep telling my daughter.

And the baby was down for an extended nap.  And by "extended nap" I mean she went down but never really went to sleep but damn-it to hell, we had some crafting to do.

Alex was on his i-Touch playing some game the whole time.  I wish he would join us but he has no interest.  To force him would be akin to punishment.

And I just don't know anymore.  Yes, I should probably go check on his games and that infernal i-Touch but damn, I'm so tired.  And he's quiet.  And he's happy.  And did I mention, he's quiet?  And it's winter and cold and I'm just so over it.  And really, I don't know how his damn i-Thing works anyway.

And honestly?  Honestly??  Deep down it makes me sad that he's not interested in what the rest of us are doing.

I know he's doing what makes him happy.  Trust me, I know that.  I'm learning to be happy with that.  But sometimes?  Sometimes I wish I were more interested in his things and he in ours.  And then I feel bad for feeling that way and even thinking it.

I know this is just passing and I'll come to rights soon but there are times where I just let out a big old sigh.  I guess this is one of those times.

And as a final I don't know what, this is how my kids left the house.  Door wide open to the garage.  Heating the outside for shits and giggles for I don't know how long.

Look how close the register is to the door.
That's just great.
For the garage.

And with a final shout of, "DANG IT, WE ARE NOT HEATING THE OUTSIDE, SOMEBODY GET DOWN HERE AND SHUT THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW,"  I turned into my mother.

See?  Just like that I'm back.

And you thought I wasn't going to post about Winter Break....

Winter Break, Day One:
Kids get up at 7:01 AM and proceed to complete everything, and I mean everything, I had planned for the entire week in less than three hours.  Like Chinese water torture, this is the beginning of a very long two weeks.

I am scared.

Winter Break, Day Four.  Christmas Eve.
I throw caution to the wind and decide to give haircuts and shower all the kids.

And then make sugar cookies.

Don't those look familiar?  They all found a home.
On my ass.   

And bake a cake.

And with a final loss of all reason, I decide to destroy the remaining parts of my kitchen by making gingerbread houses (yes, that was plural) with all three kids.

And then we went to Sam's Club.

And right about then is when I lost my fucking mind.

Winter Break, Day Five.  Christmas.
Alex gets up at 5:07 AM and pukes three times from excitement, nerves and all the pent up anxiety associated with the Holy Day.  This continues through the noon hour.

I give up on cooking any fancy dinner and order Chinese for the family.

Alex finds his App gift card and is done with presents.  And I do mean done.  He opens all other presents under protest.  He did, however, smile at the Lego sets.

By two PM, Alex insists Christmas is officially "closed for the season" and starts to take ornaments off the tree.  I decide to help him.

Winter Break, Day Six.  The day after Christmas.
I realize I have stopped fixing my hair or caring about it since break started.  I made the mistake of looking in the mirror in broad daylight and realize I needed to tweeze my chin and eyebrows.

Do the chin, skip the eyebrows.  

Kids have exhausted all fun from any, and all, Christmas presents and are begging to watch recorded How it's Made programs and Barbie princess DVD's.  I find the remote faster than I ever have in my whole entire life.

The TV remains on all day.

Winter Break, Day Nine.  I think, I don't know.
I have stopped shaving my legs.

Kids have resorted to playing "How to kill the baby without mom seeing," but the game inevitably falls apart when they turn on each other.

Kids decide to mix in used Gracie diapers with the laundry to see if they can recreate a diaper explosion in the washing machine.   I find the diapers.  They fail.

At some point during break I realize the kids are taking their nightly shower and listening to my running music.  This includes selections by LMFAO, David Guetta, The Crystal Method and Deadmau5 to name a few.  Not a single one of these songs is appropriate for kids.  They are now asking what, "Passion in your pants" means,  "Where the neighborhood whore lives" and last but not least, "Why would someone flick your switch?"

I tell them to go ask their father.

As an added bonus Alex is now perseverating on The Elevator Song by Junior Sanchez.  And yes, "Just like an elevator," is the ONLY thing they say in the whole frigging song.  And the beat never really drops.  Screw you Junior, screw you.

Winter Break, Day Eleven.  New Year's Eve.
Eat a whole other batch of cookies and four doughnuts for breakfast.

Still not shaving legs.  Have not gotten to eyebrows.

Counting down till school starts.

Start my period.  That explain a lot.  Start chewing this like candy.

Send the kids to bed at their regularly scheduled time and decide to explain the concept of New Years in the morning.

Threaten to gut anyone like a fish who wakes me up or thinks its funny to call the old married people at midnight.  No one calls.  

Winter Break, Day I don't know.
Start to rely heavily on what's in this box:

Thinking of placing an ad on Craig's List or E-bay:  Slightly used uterus for sale.  Dependable, regular and sheds monthly.  I still have to work on removal and shipping but you get the idea.

Realize I know almost all the words to Barbie, Princess Charm School.  As an added bonus I know how a fake eyeball is made, how pizzas are mass produced and how aluminum ladders are made, among other things.

The countdown to school is almost over and I'm beginning to miss all our time together.

How's that for irony?

Winter Break in Cookies...

I have a bunch of nothing today.  Instead, I give you this.  

These are all the cookies I made and then ate for the cause of that Fat Bastard called Santa.  

I ate every single one of them including those birds, chickens or whatever they are.    

No, I do not have any self control.  I also ate some for that other douche, the New Year's Baby.

I'll be back on Friday with something more substantial.  I think.  Who knows, I may be making more cookies and growing my ass.

This is one hell of a bender.

I'm back with Awards! Yeah, I'm soooo gonna tag you.

The kids are still on break and I'm a bit dazed, caged and confused but its good to be back to blogging.  I missed everyone!  I'll tell you all about break later but right now lets settle for this.

I love getting awards, really I do.  This one is especially pretty because it's a flower.  I like flowers.  I really like them when they are outside.  At a distance.  In someone elses yard.  Or at the park.  The one three miles away.  Yeah, the park is even better.

Because while I like to look at flowers, they don't really like my family.  They cause my kids eyes to swell shut from all their fun pollen.  The kids start rapid fire sneezing so I swear I'm at an artillery range.  All I want to do is duck and cover.  Don't even get me started on how allergic my husband is.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get that plants have to reproduce, but really, couldn't they have evolved pollen-less pollen or something?

I totally got sidetracked there...

Anyway, Andrea from Maybe it's just me... gave me this award and just for her I will try to be all happy and not too sarcastic since this is the Sunshine award after all.  Wait.  I think I can be sarcastic and happy.  No rule against that.

And because I'm a lazy bum and have been sitting on the sofa all day and not anywhere near the kitchen being all domestic making pain in the ass mints or anything like that, I received the award from Not Just Another Mother Blogger!   I love reading her work.  Love it.

Anyway, here are the rules:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award.  Thank you, thank you, thank you Andrea and Not Just Another Mom Blogger!
2. Link back to the Blogger (or Bloggers) who awarded you.
3. Answer the following questions, down below.  
4. Pass the award out and victimize ten other Bloggers letting them know, of course, that you've nailed them.  

Favorite color?  Purple but don't tell my daughter.  She's of the rule that only one person in the house can like a particular color.  The two of us liking the same color will just piss her off.  If she ever asks you, I like green the best.

Favorite animal?  A dead hermit crab.  Preferably three dead hermit crabs.  Hey, the rules did not specifically state weather the animal was living or dead.  I prefer three very dead hermit crabs.  Better yet, I'd prefer three very dead hermit crabs that happen to reside in the aquarium on my kitchen counter this very moment.  

Favorite number?  Eleven, it's my birth date.  And yes, I was born on 9-11.  

Favorite drink?  Caffeine-free diet anything.  I'm a whore like that.  I'll have some jet fuel in the morning to get me started but anything after about 9:00 AM just makes me ill.  You thought I was crazy now?  You really don't want to see me all hopped up on caffeine throughout the day.  

Facebook or Twitter?  I loathe them both equally but if I were in a corner at gun point then I'd have to say Facebook. 

My passion?  Shelling.  Duh.  

Giving or getting presents?  Right now it's all about giving them out.  I really would like this year for my husband to not go to Sam's Club or Costco at the ninth hour and buy whatever's left in the jewelry cabinet for the holidays, birthday, whatever.  Just skip it this year and come home early.  

Favorite day?  Friday.

Favorite flower?  Orchid but only when they're blooming.  The rest of the time they just bug me, which is about 99% of their life-span.

And I received this award from Caffeinated Autism Mom.  The Liebster Award.   Again, I love reading her work and with kids on the Spectrum we speak the same language.   This Award is given to up coming Bloggers with less than 200 followers.   In German, Liebster means sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kindly, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing and welcome.  I am not sure I am worthy of this award as I don't see "Lizbeth" and "sweet" generally used in the same sentence, but I'm taking the award and running like hell. 

The rules are the same for the Liebster Blog Award as for the Sunshine Award.  I'm not going to rewrite them, I know you all are smarter than that.  

Now this is time where I nail people who mean a lot to me.  

For the Sunshine Award I nail:

1. Flannery, over at: Living on the Specturm: The Connor Chronicles.  Really, you actually thought you were going to scape by?!?  I think not.  
2. Grace, over at: That's RightISaidIt.Dot.Mom.  Oh yeah, you're next. 
3. Kara at: karacteristic.com.
4. DeeAnn over at Snippets 'N Stuff.   

And for the Liebster Blog Award I nail:

1. Jazzy over at Jazzygal. 
2. Karen V. at Solodialogue.

I don't care if you do have over 200 followers.  That little member/followers thing has always been a thorn in my side.  I get that's it's an easy way to keep up on Blogs but there are soooooo many people who read who don't "follow."  That, and because Blogger is being an ass-hole and taking away that option for non-Blogger blogs, I'm a bit miffed.

And so there are no hard feelings, I put everyone's name in hat and picked the first four for the Sunshine Award and the last two I pulled out were for the Liebster Award.  Except for Flannery.  I have her named first, every single time.