Someone likes me.... Really!

I blog for two reason. It beats reading books in the bathroom...did I just say that out loud.

Okay, let's start over.. There are 3 reasons I blog. The first, I just mentioned.

Secondly, I love my family and the crazy things that happen around here. Because someday, when my kids are all grown, they are going to say, "Mom, do you remember when...what was that, Mom?  Yes, I am your son. Your third son. The one that you pushed the piano on. Yes, its me, Mom."

You see, by the time I reach that age (whatever age that is), I will have forgotten all the funny stories, all the funny things that they did, what our life was like. This blog gives me an outlet for later embarrassing my children journaling our lives together.

I also enjoy blogging because it is fun. I get to put my silly, twisted humor out there...and I can laugh at myself. When I decided to go public, I wasn't sure anyone would like reading my story, much less think that I was funny. I blog, I laugh, my hubby laughs, my kids laugh...and that was the extent of my expectations.

Now, I have received another Sunshine award and I really do feel honored. Heidi over at  With Thankful Hearts thinks I am funny. No, I didn't give her any money yet. On her own accord while I was twisting her arm!! You should visit her blog. She is very inspiring and is just a good person. Thanks, Heidi, for being my friend.

So, now for the confessions. I stalk people. A lot of people.  Here is the list from a couple weeks ago. And here are a few more people that I stalk, and who I believe are definitely deserving of this award. So consider yourselves Sunshined.

This Blessed Life
Happy...Most of the Time
Cowboy Botts & Baby Booties

Good Day, Regular People
Life with a LIttle One and More

Pass on the Sunshine, peeps. Thanks again Heidi!!

From the mouth of babes...

I was pretty young when it happened for the first time. I don't remember much about the details because it was so long ago. But I do remember this:

"Why are they staring at me?

"Please tell me that she did NOT just tell me that I look like my FATHER did when he was my age. The nerve!

"Why are all these people touching me? And grabbing my hands?

"I know I am cute. I know I smell good. Please, people, leave me alone.

"I just want to sleep. Oh, and use the ladies room. Wait, I have a diaper so the ladies room is right here. Whew.

"I am also a little hungry. What can I suck on? No binky....no bottle...no mommy.... Oh, no. What can I put in my mouth?

"What is that thing down there. It looks like it would do the trick. Maybe if I could....just...grab...hold...Got it!

"Now, let's put that sucker into my mouth!"

And that was the first time I remember putting my foot into my mouth. I try not to do it anymore. Not only is it gross, but it just isn't appropriate.

My son, however, has no problem sticking his foot in his mouth. I saw him in the car the other day biting off his toenails. (Let's all say it together, 'Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!')

So I say to him, "Kobe, stop doing that. It is gross."

"How else am I supposed to cut my toenails?" he responds.

"Ummm...you know those things called toenail clippers. I think that is what they are for. And if you can't find those, fingernail clippers work too." I explain.

"I don't know how to use them and this is quicker." he answers, exasperated.

"You know Kobe. You walk around outside on the lawn without socks on, right?"

"Uh,huh."

"Well, can you tell me what Rufus does on the grass...several times a day."

Thinking, "He poops and he pees."

"Yup. And you walk on that same grass with your barefeet and then you put your foot into your mouth." I am watching his face through the rearview mirror at this point.

This is my germ-a-phobic son. His face wrinkles and he lets out a "Ewwwwwww. Gross."

Needless to say, that may have been the last time he stuck his foot in his mouth as well.

What? That isn't what was meant by Mama Kat's prompt. Ugh! Oh well. Remember, I am functioning with half a brain!

Graffiti

Don't you just love going to the park on a nice springy afternoon? I do too! Yesterday was no different. I dropped off two of my kids to piano lessons, picked up the teachers two kids and headed to the park for an hour. Love it!!

When I got to the park and looked around I was saddened. Oh, don't worry. The swings and slides and playground equipment were all still there. I was saddened when I saw this:

Why would anyone want to put graffiti at a park where little children play! Does it make them feel powerful, like they rule the playground? Perhaps childhood scars are hard to heal? But the more I looked, the more I saw...

It seemed to be everywhere. And it seemed to be multiplying...even while we were there. What kind of people write on playground equipment?

What? Wait a minute...

That looks a little juvenile...not that writing on something other than paper for fun is mature, but something about it was familiar. 

Oh. My. Goodness. 

Oh yes. Apparently my son is the type of person who finds joy in destroying public property. Oh, they are starting younger and younger...

Big sigh......Guess what we get to do this Saturday. It is a trip to the park. Only this time instead of a marker, we have this in hand:

So I married a Deaf man V: Hey!!

I learned early on in our marriage that my  husband doesn't like me to throw things at him.

You may be thinking "Duh! What sane person enjoys being hit in the head with a flying object."

True, true. But let me explain.

You hearing/hearing couples have the luxury of a voice that can almost always be heard, no matter where you are in the house. Let's say that you are sitting on the couch in the middle of the day for no apparent reason watching all the shows you have DVR'ed  and now finally have the chance to watch them because the kids are napping and your husband is home sick with who knows what and you become thirsty. Your husband walks by and you holler out to him,

"Hey Babe, can you bring me back a glass of water?"

"Sure." He responds without commenting on how it is 1:30pm and you are still in your PJ's and haven't even brushed your teeth.

How nice. How convenient.

Well, us Deaf/hearing couples don't have that luxury. There are only a few ways of getting a deaf spouse's attention:

Flashing the light on and off. This works great at night, as long as the hubs is in the same room or at least in a place where he can see the flashing. But is doesn't work so great when it is in the middle of the day and you have your hands full and are not near a light switch. Frustration.

There is the whole waving of your arm like you are trying to guide an airplane for take off. This, again, only works if your spouse can see you straight on or at least from his peripheral. It is a great exercise, however, for the arms. It is also really great at looking stupid in front of your kids, in the middle of the supermarket, and across the pew at church. Not. So. Great.

There is always the stomping/slapping/slamming the floor with your hands, feet, child, or whatever is in reach. If all floors had wood foundations, this would solve my problem. But who wants a house like that.

And now the final option is to throw things. This assures that the hubs will know that I am trying to get his attention. I don't throw hard things, like dumb-bells, footballs, sharp knives, or anything like that. I stay away from appliances and other electrical objects.

However, when I am sitting on the couch, nursing my 2 week old baby, and Brody is once again roping Camden around the neck while Camden is screaming, and there sits my husband, back to me, looking at Mafia Wars or Facebook, or some other really important page on the internet, oblivious to the round-up that is taking place right BEHIND HIM, I think it is quite alright to take whatever is next to me and chunk toss it at his head him. Whether it is a sock, an blanket, a wet diaper that was recently changed, whatever the object, I believe I am justified in doing so.

Hubs begs to differ. And so, I have TRIED to just throw something past his line of sight. That being said, I am not that great of an aim. I can't help it if some of those objects change direction in flight. I can't be blamed if the shoe pegs him in the side of the head.

What is a frazzled mother to do? And so I throw, hoping that my aim will improve.

I think I know what to get hubs for Father's Day.

You will feel a pinch....

My 4th child is extremely small for his age. He is 4 years old and is still in 18 month pants. It is sweet, but when he is only 5'2" at the age of 40, he may not think it is that sweet. (Not that being 5'2" at 40 years is bad or anything...ahem.)

We recently took him to an endocrinologist (thanks spell-check). She agreed that he was short (thanks) and said we needed to get some blood drawn for testing. "This is gonna be fun!" I thought to myself.

Finally the day arrived for the drawing of blood. We get in the car and I am talking to him about what is going to happen. I told him that it would hurt but I would be holding him and he would be sitting on my lap. I assured him that it would be okay if he was a little scared.

He says, "I'm not scared, Mommy. But my belly is." (sniffle, sniffle) I told him that is was okay for his belly to be scared, but that he was going do great. We sign in, sit down and wait for our turn. Finally it comes and he starts to look up at me with concern. I set him on my lap and talk him through it all.

The man and woman who did it were wonderful. They found his vein and he whimpered his way through telling them what he got for Christmas. Sadly, they weren't able to get all that they needed out of the one arm so we had to do the other arm. They said something about him not drinking enough water, or something.

He had been really quite brave through the first arm, but I think the second one was almost more than he could take. PLUS they stuck him and then had to fish around under the skin before they found a vein. He was crying, and telling them about his dog and his brothers and, and, and...poor kid. Whew. Finally the hard part was over. The only thing left was a urine sample.

Off we go into the bathroom with our little cup. "This is gonna be easy," I thought to myself. He is a guy...you know...the whole standing up thing would make peeing in a cup that much easier. But he said that he just couldn't do it that way. Stage fright. So I plopped him onto the seat and positioned myself and the cup in a way that I could catch the urine without getting it on my hand.

Well, apparently he HAD drank enough water and the rapidly filling cup was proof.  Without really thinking my next plan of action through, I quickly pulled the cup out from under the stream which caused the cup to bump his..ummm...errr...the source of the stream.

I was directly in the line of fire, and so, yes, my son peed on my face. All I could do was laugh. I told him that he had just done two things that none of his siblings had done before: given his blood and peed on his mother's face.

The things we do for our children.

The Ultimate Diet

We are on a diet in my house. It's called the S'more diet.

"I will have s'more of that."

"Who wants s'more?"

"Put s'more of that on my plate, please."

So in honor of our diet....

Who wants S'more?

(Kyla is still going on a camera strike. She did gobble up a few s'mores herself...in case you were wondering.)

Hobby?

"What is your hobby?" 

Ugh! I hate this question. Perhaps 20 years ago it would have been an easy question to answer. Perhaps if my life wasn't so jam packed full of stuff it would be simple. But every time I am asked that question I am stummped. I don't have an answer. 

So I thought that maybe looking up the word in the dictionary would help.  

Any of several small falcons of the genus Falco, formerly used for catching small birds or game.

  

Okay, so that was the second definition, but I wanted to share that bit of information with you. Cool, huh. 

Here is what definition #1 said:

An activity or interest pursued outside one's regular occupation and engaged in primarily for pleasure.  

That didn't really help. So I thought about what my definitions for hobby would be. Here is what I came up with:  

1. an activity that one does ONLY for pleasure and while doing it losses track of time and many times will cause them to put off other things that are less exciting or enjoyable like the dishes, laundry, toilets or making dinner and causes them to ignore their children entirely. 2. an activity that one participates in IF they have free time, time to spare, time to waste, an extra hour in their day. 

Everyone has to have a hobby. So I determined that I was going to find mine. It has taken me a while, but I think that today I finally decided what my hobby was going to be. 

SLEEPING!!

Isn't that a great idea. Clearly it fits my definition.  Seriously, when I am doing other things, it is what I long to do instead. I daydream about it when doing dishes, changing diapers, cleaning up throw-up at 3am, sitting at work interpreting teenagers NOT talking on the phone. 

I would get pleasure from going to bed at night (any time, really) and sleeping until I woke up naturally. There are times that when I am sleeping I enjoy it so much that I sleep longer and miss the things that I should be doing. 

Last night I thought I was going to get some good sleep. My kids have been piggy backing being sick all week. So I had the sickies all drugged up and when I got into bed there was just 2 of us. By the time I got out of bed at 5:30 this morning there was one on the floor and 3 extra's in our bed. Yes people, count them. We are talking about 6 people piled into my bed. What the heck!! Sleep, where is thy hiding place?!?

So if you drop by my house and I am lounging around on the couch, don't think to yourself, "Man, that woman in LAZY!!" Know that I am merely pursuing my hobby. 

So now when someone asks me, "What's your hobby?"

I will answer with an enthusiastic, "ZZZZZZZZZZ's!"

To be unlearned is good.

I swear, the more children I have, the less I know. That was the inspiration for the name of my blog. And it is so true. I used to know what a 6 month old was supposed to be doing. Now, I am just glad he isn't walking or throwing his food yet. So I got to thinking, what are some of those things that I thought I knew, but have UN-learned since.

I used to think that a clean house= a good mom. Ummm I have since unlearned that. If I want to have a spic-and-span house, then I have to ignore my children. I have learned that ignoring children= messier house, restless children and blue marker drawings on the wall. I am a much better mom when I let a few things go, a few of the less important things, so that I can enjoy my children.

I have unlearned 4th grade math. That or I have blocked it out of my memory. I'm not sure the difference between a line segment and a ray and no longer know how to figure out the mean, mode or medium of a set of numbers. Thank heavens for Google.

When in high school, I used to believe that you needed to shave your legs every other day. I have unlearned that rule and am lucky if my legs get mowed shaved at all twice a month. The way I see it, the longer the hair the softer it is. Cactus legs can't be that appealing? 

I apparently have unlearned that chocolate does NOT help with a diet. It seems to be the first thing I try to give up, but somehow makes its way back into my bag, nightstand, car, etc. Darn you, chocolate!!

I used to think that all markers would come off of human skin with soap. I have since UNlearned that...thanks to my four year old who has been determined to have permanent black lines running up and down his arms and legs. I am actually pretty amazed that he hasn't gotten ink poisoning.

I learned growing up, watching my dad, than men are the door lockers. They are the protectors. Well, I have had a hard time unlearning this one. I have become the door locker. If it were in my hubby's hands, we would be robbed clean, each of our children kidnapped and he and I murdered in our sleep. I can't tell you  how many times in the beginning of our marriage that I would lie in bed, wondering if things were locked, only to get up and find NOTHING locked. So I am now the door locker, the protector.  I am woman, hear me roar!!!

I have learned that a good bra DOESN'T last forever. I'm just saying! Unlearned that one today. (Too Much Information? So sorry. I have to stop doing that.)

I have unlearned that sandpaper is just for wood. It works wonders on my heels when I go for a pedicure. The first time I saw them pull the machine out, I wasn't sure what was going to happen. I was regretting not shaving my legs.

I unlearned that a strong woman doesn't need help. Oh, yes, I have UN-learned that the hard way. I am learning my limits and once I have reached them, I have to get help somewhere: a friend, minute maids, a mental institution, fellow bloggers.  Mostly, God. Oh yes, we all have our limits.

The scriptures say, "To be learned is good.." But I also think that to be UN-learned can also be just as good.

What have you UN-learned??

This post is inspired my Mama's Losin' It's Writer's Workshop. 

I feel like a kid again who has won a trophy at the end of the soccer season.

Adrienne over at Four Bad Apples gave me this award:

Someone actually likes my blog!! I can't believe it.

When I found out that she had given me this award, I felt like Taylor Swift...but then that may be pushing things because I don't look like Taylor Swift, I don't sing like Taylor Swift, and I don't want some dude coming and taking away my thunder. (Did I just say dude...oh boy!)

And it's not like I can go around telling everyone that I won this award. Because half the people around me don't know what a BLOG is. When I tell them I am a blogger, they reach for a tissue and hand it to me.

But at any rate, I am so happy that my blog can bring a little sunshine into someone's life! I LOVE blogging about the crazy life I have chosen and I am the one who gets excited when I see your comments...because in some way you all can relate.

So, I guess I am supposed to tell about myself. I am a mother of 5 crazies, 4 boys and one girlie! I have been married to my husband, who happens to be deaf, for 11+ years. I have been blogging for about 2 years, but decided that I wanted to go public with my blog so that I could comment on others blogs. I get so excited when I find people who have similar struggles and challenges that I have. I also find myself ROLLING on the floor at some of the things that your kids do.

So here are some of my favorite blogs that I stalk.

The Meanest Mom 

(If you think I am funny, you have never read this blog. Hilarious!!)

Denton Sanatorium

I love big family blogs. And Jenny just has it all together. My hero!! Just look at her children all in white. We don't own white in my house...nope.

For Love or Funny

Lynn is awesome. She is hilarious, and also a very talented photographer. I find joy in her humor.

Love, Actually

I like this blog because who doesn't run out of ideas for dates and stuff. Really great idea for a blog, I think.

And there you have it.

Thanks, Adrienne, for making my week!! Seriously, for reading my blog!!

But today...

There are those days when the To-Do list seems to go on and on...
* Do the laundry
* 15 minutes in the garage aka black hole
* Fold the heap of laundry that keeps traveling from my bed to the basket, only to return to the bed the next morning and then the basket again.
* Dust...oh yeah, Dust
* My garden...of weeds....needs to be turned into a garden of plenty.
* Shower (Why isn't this at the top of the list? Note to self, fix the To-Do list.)
* Call a bunch of people to take care of a bunch of things that they will not be able to help me with, but I must call them to check them off the list.

You know those days.

But today, I sit. I sit and I rock my two little sick boys. They alternate who is fevering and who is drugged up and feeling well enough to play around a little.

So I sit, and rock and savour this time...because I know it won't always be this way.

My list can wait. My laundry may walk itself out the door, but good riddens. The black hole isn't getting any smaller and  the heap on my bed makes for some good exercise at night.

But for now I will rock my little men to their hearts' desires for it fills my heart to do it.

(Plus I get to watch that tv show that I swore I would stop watching but now I have the time to watch.)

So I Married a Deaf Man IV: The Ticket!@$*!!

My husband had never gotten a ticket. Not in his whole life. I am not saying that he has never been pulled over, because he has. Plenty of times. But he had never been issued a ticket...until he married me.

It isn't because of his great smile...though he does have a GREAT smile. It isn't because his eyes are to die for. No, no. It isn't because he is a flirt because he SO isn't. It is because he is deaf. Let me describe what normally happens.

"Vrooom Vrrrroooom."  Hubs just speeding along without a care in the world.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeohhhhhhh." (Lights flashing)

The cop walks up to the window and my husband rolls it down.

"May I see your liscence and registartion please?" he asks.

My husband points to his ears and shakes his head.

"You can't hear? ummmm okay...uhhhhh...ummmm....hold... hold on, HOLD ON!!"  He goes back to his car and returns with a pen and paper in hand.

The officer usually writes something like this, "Too fast. Slow down. Warning."

And that is it. Seriously. HIS WHOLE LIFE! Until he married me. Here is what happened.

Brian was driving along, we were chatting (via sign lanuguage...it freaks my dad out.) and suddenly the lights appear behind us. Great! I hate that feeling. So we pull over.

That cop appears at the window, asking for license and registration. My hubs points to his ears shaking his head, as usual.

"You can't hear? ummmm okay...uhhhhh...ummmm....Hey, do you talk?" he asks me.

Because I have been taught not to lie and to respect poilicemen who risk their lives everyday to keep the roads safe, I answer "Yes." Then proceed to interpret for him while he gives my husband an $80 ticket.

What the heck!! Does he know how much it would have cost him to HIRE an interpreter? We are talking over $100 because they would have to have special certification and get paid a 2 hour minimum and mileage and an extra after hours/less than 24 hour notice fee?!?!?!!!! He should have been writing me a check before he walked away.

So the next time we were pulled over, my sister, her daughter and my son were in the car with us. I turn to her and I say, "Pretend like you are deaf. Do not say one word. If he asks you something, just pretend you can't hear him."

It worked! NO ticket!! Just "Too fast. Slow down. Warning."

Thank you Officer!!

Good Question

5 question Friday. I will give it a try....

1. What words do you use on your blog/online that you don't use in real life?

Well, here's the thing. I am obsessed with my children. I could talk about them for hours on end. It has come to the point that people will avoid me altogether just so they don't have to hear about how my 5 year old has reverted to peeing the bed and when he wakes up, soaked in the middle of the night he screams at the top of his lungs "MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

My blog seems to help with my verbal erruptions. That way people who like my stories, will come and read and when they are sick of them, they can turn me off. I think my husband may be a little jealous of you all because of that feature...the turn off button. But then again, all he has to do is close his eyes...off.

2. Do you still write checks?

   My kids all have chore charts, behavior charts, homework charts. If they get them done, then I write a check. This is where I write the majority of my checks. There is also the form that I fill out when I go to the therapist.

   But when I pay for things I usually do the debit swipe...much much faster and easier to do when you've a baby on the hip, another pulling your "fat" pants down, the other is begging for gum, candy, and whatever other thing they have at the checkout to torture parents, while the other two are fighting over who gets to stand on the end of the cart. I just swipe...hoping that it will magically transport me to some beach somewhere...................... "Ma'am. Ma'am...your receipt." Drat!

3. Who was your favorite President and why?

  All joking aside, I think that the men who wrote our Constitution were inspired. It took them a lot of courage to do what they did. And because of what they did, America has become the great country that it is. And the more we chip away at the Constitution, the more we chip away it's greatness. ANY president who respects and understand and upholds the Constitution, in my eyes, is a great president.

4. Are you a yeller?

   I would never! I would never yell at my kids if after asking them 10 times to do their homwork I find them outsided jumping on the trampoline. Oh, no! I would definately not yell if my 5 year old was pummeling his younger brother for playing with his Star Wars storm trooper in the sandbox.  You wouldn't hear me yelling at my children if I walked into their room to see them writing on their walls with marker. And you wouldn't hear me yelling even louder when I realized that my 9 year old had joined in the fun!! Do I yell?? NEVER!!!!!!!!...oh, I mean, "Never, darling."

5. Have you ever dumpster dived?

   

    Wow! That sounds fun! Is it some kind of sport? Similar to swimming? Ha.

    You know, the only time I have even thought about it was when my daughter's homework got chunked for not being put away accidentally found its way to the trash. But when I looked and saw the pile of crap that was on top of the thing, I told my daughter that matching the picture of money to the right amount wasn't worth digging through dinner to salvage. Yes, in my home we teach the importance of education.

Now that didn't hurt at all. You should try it. It is just 5 questions.

GO HERE!!

Call CPS

 We have a dire situation in my house. My children are screaming abuse! Upon further investigation, I have found it to be true. Here is the incriminating evidence:

1- I was able to be home in the morning the other day and when Kyla found out I was going to be home she said, "Good! Will you make my lunch?" When asked who normally made her lunch, she responded "Daddy makes US make our OWN lunches!!" Oh the nerve! That was my first clue that something was up.

2- I also heard from several sources (under the age of 10) that the children in our home are not allowed to eat until they have all their clothes on. Can you imagine?!

3- You are gonna need to sit down for the next one. When they take a bath, he requires the older three children to wash themselves...EVEN their hair. ***GASP***

4- This one was the kicker for me...Before they go to bed they HAVE to go to the bathroom and get a drink of water. The horror...BEFORE they get into bed. He says it's so they will have no excuse to get out of bed but we know its because he just has a black heart.

The list goes on and on: putting away their shoes, cleaning up the dog poop in the yard, loading their dishes into the dishwasher, putting on their own seatbelts. Here is the worste one of ALL. They have to have their chores and homework done before they can play the Wii....and they can only play it one day a week.

That's it! I can't take anymore!! Will someone, ANYONE please call CPS before things get out of hand...before the children become responsible adults or something worse!

You can imagine the lasting effect behavior like this can have on children. Please, help these poor children!!

The Needed

Sometimes it is nice to be needed.

Sometimes not so much.

Monday was one of those times. I have been working some crazy hours where I work til midnight and then have to be back into work by 7am. Try 3 days of that in a row and it really starts getting to you.

It doesn't help that the hose in my kitchen sink faucet decided to break. So now, when you turn on the water, if the tear isn't facing the right direction, water will squirt everywhere. This isn't just annoying, but it apparently deters people, big and small, from rinsing and washing dishes.

Monday, I was exausted. Everyone needed me and I really didn't have anything left to give. Brian needed me to edit his paper that he was really stressed about. My kids needed a ride to piano lessons, Briggy was tired and needed a nap...well, first he had a poopy diaper and needed a change, then he needed a snack, then he needed to be held. Brody needed some attention because he was beginning to pick on Camden which made Camden need some protection and comfort. Everyone needed dinner. Homework needed to be done. The house needed at least 3 hours 15 minutes of attention.

I needed a break but really didn't see it happening. In the end, a good cry was all I got. Oh, yeah, and the guilt that follows. I got that too. Have mentioned that I hate guilt? No? Well I hate guilt.

So who helps the needed? When we, as mothers, are needed so much, who takes care of us? We are naturally givers. If you are a mom, you give. You give up you body, your sleep, your hair color, sometimes your personal hygene, your free time, your cleanliness. For what? So that the people in our lives know we love them and are happy. So, again, I ask, who takes care of the needed?

I know that God can take care of us spiritually,emotionally, physically...in ALL aspects of our lives. . But sometimes...sometimes, I want to be waited on. Sometimes I want someone else to make dinner and then clean it up after. I want to sleep until I am not tired and not feel bad about it. (Curse you, Guilt!!) Sometimes I want someone to read ME a book and rub MY back.

I love being a mother and a wife. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't trade it for anything. And I would give up ALL my sleep if it meant that my children would be happy and my husband satisfied with the life we have been given. I was just hoping that I wouldn't LITERALLY have to give it all up.

This is totally a downer post. Not meant to be, but isn't life like that sometimes? What do you do when one more need is just going to put you over the edge? I really would like to know.

So I Married a Deaf Man III: Drive Thru

"Hey, what's for dinner?" Hubs asks.

"I don't know, what are you cooking?"

"Sonic!" he replies.

"Great! I get to drive." I insist.

You may be thinking to yourselves that I am some overbearing control freak who has to be in control all the time. This is SO not the case. In fact, I would love it if someone would willing come and take away some of my control. Please!! In fact, I am getting out my white flag as we speak!

So, no, it isn't a control issue. The issue is...well...here...let me demonstrate what it looks like going to a drive through when my husband is the driver.

We pull up to the screen and Bry is just looking ahead, with the window up,  while the speaker is shouting, "Hello!! Is anyone there??? CAN I TAKE YOUR ORDER!!"

Finally, after what feels like hours, he rolls down the window. I am now leaning across the middle of the bucket seats, screaming, "YES, I WANT 5 YADA's , YADDA YADDA, and an extra large YADDA!" It is while I am ordering our yadda's that my husband thinks it is funny to tickle me, or give me a wet willy or some other annoyingly distracting antic.

"What was that, ma'am. I can barely hear you." What, is he deaf? No wait, that would be us...

So I repeat the order a few times until finally they get it.

When the order arrives, the car hop starts talking to my husband. When hubs doesn't say anything, and all they get is a cheesy look and a big smile, then they get annoyed.

Leaning across the seat again I explain, "He isn't rude. Really. He is just deaf and can't hear you."

"Oh, I am so sorry!" is what we usually get. And many times I can't tell if they are saying sorry that they didn't know, or sorry that he is unable to hear. Maybe they are saying sorry that I am hurdling the bucket seats. Haven't quite figured that one out yet. But, it is a little bit awkward to say the least. 

So THAT is why I prefer to drive when we go through a drive through. Less hassle, less explaining, and one less wet willy that I have to deal with.

My Son

"My Son, My Son"
By My Grandma

Oh barefoot boy with cheeks of tan

How soon can you become a man?

I'm sick to death of snakes and toads,

and dirty feet from dusty roads

Untied shoes and muddy jeans,

Whose pockets bulge with jelly beans,

And messy rooms and tattered shirts

Of binding up your cuts and hurts

Oh barefoot boy with cheeks of tan

I'll miss you so when you're a man.

Another Mommy Moment Monday from Frugal Mom Knows Best.

Where's the party???

(Whispering) Now kids, this is a big people party. That means no climbing on tables, don't stick your finger in ANY of the food, and above all, no potty words...got it?

Oh, hello!! I heard there was a party from pretty much all the blogs that I stalk follow. I thought that I would invite myself come and check it out. I am late, as usual. But it sounded like a ton of fun, whether you were on time or the last to show up, so why not!!

Are these all MY children, you ask. Yes, all 5 of them. Yes, 5 kids in 9 years is a little crazy and yes my hands are full! Better full then empty, I always say. They keep me on my toes (trying to avoid all the things that are spilled, crushed and stuck on my dining room floor), awake at all hours of the night (whether it is teething, projectile vomit, wet bed, night terrors...etc) and rolling on the floor laughing. I definatly will never run out of things to blog about.

Why am I moving my hands when I talk, you ask?  No, I am not a freak of nature....ummm well maybe I am. I do have two bladders.. Oh, wait...totally inappropriate information there...so sorry. My sweet husband over here is deaf and so I am interpreting for his benefit. Yes, he can drive. No, he doesn't read brail. And you can bet I have got some great stories to tell about our 11 1/2 year journey together.

It looks like I am gonna have to run. Baby is smelling up the place and it doesn't look pretty. My daughter has somehow managed to get bean dip in her hair and the other three are seeing how far they can spit the watermelon seeds. Yup, time to go. But come on over and visit. I am sure to make you laugh, or if nothing else, you will know when it is time to send those "nice young men in their clean white coats" to take me away...hahahaha!!

Nice to meet ya!

The things we do for LOVE

It all started last year...at the age of 9. My son comes home, crying.

"What is the matter?" I asked, very concerned.

"She is moving. She is moving to Scotland and I will never see her again. And I didn't even have her sign my Autograph book" he sobbed.

There was no consoling him...at least for 30 minutes anyway. A few hours later, she was out of his mind and he was on to other more important things...you know, like riding his scooter, playing the Wii, etc.

It turns out, to his relief, that she didn't move. And when he walked into his literacy class, there she sat, in all her beauty. Every day he sits by and partners with this little girl.

Then about 3 months ago he asks me, "Mom, how old do you have to be to kiss someone?"

"Ummmm. You need to love the person before you kiss them," I replied, hoping that would satisfy his curiosity.

"But I do love her. I loved her from the moment I first saw her." he stated.

"Well, then...not until you can drive."

Yesterday he walks in the door, all dreamy eyed. Hmmmm...do I want to know???

"How was your day at school, son?" I asked.

"Well, today at recess Riley and I climbed to the top of the jungle gym and she told me she loved me. And I told her I loved her."

"Really?" I flinched.

"Then this other guy got jealous and he pushed me off the jungle gym. I fell down. Then he twisted my ankle."

"Ouch!" I blurted out.

He continued, "Then Riley jumped down and punched the kid in the face and he ran away crying."


"Then what happened?" I asked, fascinated by this woman girl.

"I told her 'Thanks.' And she said, 'No problem.' Then she had to go to the principal's office."

Huh... That totally ended differently than I had imagined. I guess my son knows how to pick 'em, if you like the aggressive, physically violent type...which apparently he does.

The things we do for love.

You're afraid of WHAT???

Every Thursday Mama's Losing It has a Writer's Workshop. It is fun and gets me thinking. This week I chose the prompt about Fear. 

(Write about something that frightens you that other people might find ridiculous.)

I came up with 5 things that I fear that other people may think are weird or ridiculous.

#1 Tin can lids with jagged edges.

These things scare me EVERY TIME I see them. I am the tin can lid police. They are so dangerous! I always make sure that the lid is inside the can before I, or anyone else throws them away. You never know when you are going to be packing in the trash and SLASH, there goes your finger. Or what if my toddler digs in the trash gets hold of one of those things.

No. NO! NO!!! 

It just is a bad idea.

#2 Ski Lifts

This is the main reason why I don't enjoy skiing. Part of it is the height thing, but most of it is the whole "I have on these heavy skis and there is really nothing holding me in." Then when the chair has to change wires...that FREAKS ME OUT!!

#3 Claws

This is why we will never have a cat, hamster, bird, rat,etc.

 I just hate the feeling of those things tickling my skin. Yuck!!

#4 Linked Sausage

The sausage patties are fine. I just don't think that people cook them right and so I am always paranoid that the middle isn't cooked. ESPECIALLY if the sausage is on the burnt side. I am sure that they are mostly fine and I have never gotten sick from sausage. But...I don't know...the risk is still there...

I'm just saying.

 

#5 My teeth falling out.

This is one of my re-occurring nightmares. I wake up in the morning and all my teeth are there. Then sometime during the day, they all start to feel loose and I start to freak out. Then one by one, they start to fall. It is a horrible, horrible dream.

Call me a freak, that's okay. My kids call me that all the time.  But we all have our fears....

What are yours??

You're Welcome

Everyone is NOT welcome in my bed...Sorry...not a good idea
BUT you are welcome to sleep on the hard floor if you like.

Everyone is NOT welcome in the bathroom while I am using it!
But you are welcome to sit outside the door and cry and scream and kick the door all you like.

Everyone is NOT welcome in the bath at the same time..BIG mess!
But you can be the first in the bath and get the hot water or you can complain and be the last one and get cold, dirty water.

Everyone is NOT welcome to join  in the pot banging that I got out to distract baby and now is giving me a headache.
But you are welcome to sit in the chair over there with duct tape over your mouth and listen to what quiet sounds like.

Everyone is NOT welcome to eat the gum and other goodies that are hidden in my bag.
But I can tell you where your sister's stash is.

Everyone is not welcome to throw things when they have to turn off the Star Wars Wii game.
But you are welcome to go outside and move those 20 bricks across the yard...and then move them back.

Everyone is NOT welcome to wear MY socks because they can't find their own socks.
BUT you are welcome to learn how to do your own laundry...now there is an idea!

Everyone is NOT welcome to complain about the green stuff we are having for dinner.
BUT you are all welcome clean up while I sit on my tush and watch a little Glenn Beck.

Everyone is NOT going to love you as much as I do
BUT they would be foolish not to...

You are Welcome here! Always welcome here!

Random Post- Its

Here are some of the random going-ons at our house today.

(Not sure how to get the little boxes around the post-its off. Anyone?)

When in Rome....

Does your husband have a ceramic head?

Well, mine does.

When he was in high school, he made this plaster head of himself...only it looks like the head of a Roman soldier. He thinks it is one of the coolest things ever. I think...not so much.

I had no idea he had such a thing until several years ago when  his mother, whom I love dearly, decided that the head of her son needed a new home...OURS!  Lovely! When he saw it, he was overjoyed at the reunion of his semi-twin head.

What am I supposed to do with it?

It's not like I want it on my piano or on my book shelf. Heck, I don't even want it in my bathroom.  I try and convince my husband that we should just take a picture and get rid of it. But he will hear none of that.

For the past 5 years, it has been in a box. Then with this last move we found it and I wasn't allowed to put it back. And so it sits in my closet...watching me each day. I thought to myself this morning, "It is Easter. What better day is there to accidentally break the head of a Roman soldier?" Just a thought.

My husband, you see, is a keeper, meaning, he doesn't throw things away. He has other things too. Things that he made in high school... a metal wind mill that is actually pretty cool but is an awkward size. He made some really cool pottery: mugs and plates, but he won't let us use them. He has scriptures that are written in different languages that he keeps...just in case, because you never know when you are going to run into someone who speaks Creole and may need some scriptures. The list goes on.

I would venture to say if I "took care of things" behind his back, he wouldn't miss them. I doubt he would even notice they were missing. Heck, he has a hard time finding the mustard that is in plain sight in the fridge, let alone momentos from high school that are hidden in a box in the black hole we call our garage.

But then I would feel guilty...guilty for lying, guilty for taking and destroying something that wasn't mine to destroy. Guilty for betraying his trust. I hate guilt.

And so I look at that ceramic Roman face of my husband every morning...and think to myself, "If I out live Hubster, you are gonna be the first thing to go! Chew on that!"