Miss me??

I have a great life. Really fantastic. Love being married. Love being a mom. Love love love.

That being said, there are those times, when I remember the single life. Or at least life before children. Because once you have children, you will always have children. (Unless you are some kind of psycho and get rid of them, then you would no longer have children, but you would be living up your single life behind bars.)

As wonderful as children are, and they are wonderful, there are some things that I miss. Let me name just a few.

I miss...

...alone time.

...skinny jeans. 

...sleeping in.

...all laundry done in one day.

....cars with just two doors.

...dates.

...sleeping in.

...daily showers.

...long daily showers.

...no sag.

...carefree road trips.

...uninterrupted conversations.

...sleeping in.

...smudge-free walls and windows.

I wouldn't give my life up for anything.

But I would like a few of these things back...

...someday.


(Another one of Mama Kat's great prompt ideas! Check her out!)

So, I Married a Deaf Man: Bump in the Night

I wake up to the sound of my front door opening and slamming shut.  "What was that? Am I hearing something?" Nah, it's only my imagination. I close my eyes and attempt to go back to sleep.  Moments later, I hear the door open and then slam shut, again.

I roll over to inform my husband that someone is in the house and he needs to get his man armor on and protect our home and children. He isn't there. "Oh, great," I think to myself. "Someone has taken my husband and is now coming back for the rest of us."

"Slam. Slam. Slam." I hear cupboards opening and closing all around the kitchen. "What kind of intruder is this?"

Then I hear my husband's unique noises indicating he is the culprit. The squeaky dog toy gives him away. He is playing fetch with the dog? I roll over. "What time is it, anyway?" 2:00am! You have got to be kidding me!!

You see, my husband isn't aware or forgets just how loud things can be. Whether it is the cupboards slamming, the dog toy squeaking or running the vacuum late at night, those things make noise, noise that he can't hear.

I can't tell you how many times I will just be laying down for bed when I hear the t.v. come on, shouting for all my sleeping children to hear. He may not have been the one to turn it up that loud, but there he sits, unaware of the need for a volume adjustment. The same thing happens with the computer. "If you don't see the circle with a line through it, the volume is still on."

During daylight, the noises aren't really an issue. In fact, they are barely noticeable above the raucous our crew makes. But when all are in bed, and things are much, much quieter, his unintentional noise-making is magnified.

It is amazing how loud a person can be while unloading a dishwasher. Who knew that pulling a chair across the floor could make a noise that would echo through the whole house. Squeaky toys, though small, are actually quite scary things to wake up to.

So, in my house, when I hear a bump in the night, chances are it is my husband...

...looking for something to eat.

Two weeks

Two weeks. 14 days. A lot can happen in that amount of time.

My baby can become an amazing artist, using my walls as his canvas. I have the evidence to prove it...in every room of my house.

My children can learn to hate homework,again. And then proceed to tell me...every...single...waking...moment. Homework = parental torture.

Hubs can go down a whole pant size in a measly 2 weeks. Me, I can go 2 months and not even lose one pound. Chances are I will gain. Darn scale!!

In just 14 days, my schedule has gone from taking my time doing what I want, whenever I want to a million different activities in a million different places with specific beginning and ending times.

But, as my 4 year old puts it, the bestest thing by far?

It didn't even take 2 weeks for the "my-stomach-hurts-so-bad-I-am-gonna-hurl-on-you" bug to hit our house. 2 weeks of school, my friends and that darn thing is making the rounds.

Maybe it will be gone soon.

I'll give it two weeks.

To tip or not to tip

I have never thought of myself as a cheapskate. I pay my babysitters well because I want them to come back. When it comes to paying tips I think I am right on. I usually give money equal to the service I receive.

Well, my nephew worked at Sonic this past summer and when we were visiting he mentioned that he had earned a lot of tips that night.

What?

At Sonic??

I didn't know I was expected to tip there. I mean, it is pretty cool that they can balance the food on a tray while riding roller blades. That is impressive...seeing that I can't even ride rollerblades and push a stroller at the same time without falling.

But in my mind, they are the same as the cashier at McDonalds. It never crossed my mind that I was dissing my carhop.

My Saturday confession: I have never tipped at Sonic. And am not sure that I ever will.

Have you??

Spare parts?

Have you read this book?

It is such a great book! I love it. It's about a boy who finds a few pieces of his hair in his brush and becomes terrified that his body is falling apart.  If you haven't read it and do not own it, go get it. It is a classic. Okay, maybe not a classic, but it is a great book!

I feel like this guy. Due to the allergies I never had until I moved here, I have eye leakage like you can't imagine. It is driving me bonkers. My kids think I am crying all the time...though sometimes this works in my favor.

"Could you please do your homework?"
"I don't want to. It is so bori... Are you crying? Okay, I will do it."

"You need to pick up your room, son."
"Gosh, Mom. I didn't know that it was that important to you."

However, when I am at work and the deaf caller says, "What is wrong with your eye. Your wiping is really annoying me,"...not so good.

The side of my eye is now chapped so bad from the wiping that the tears from my eye burns, causing more tears, causing more burning, and so on. My glasses constantly have those little white dried tear spots on them. I have temporarily suspended all make-up application to that eye except when necessary.

I'm falling apart, people.

Does anyone have a plug??

It burns!

Merry-go-rounds are dangerous. They scalp children.

So is sitting in the grass. Don't believe me? Ask my 4 year old.

Camden was so excited to go and watch Brody play soccer. He put on the extra shin guards, put on his tennis shoes and brought himself a ball. Even made sure he had his very own water bottle. He was s-e-t set!

Before we get to the field, my contacts decide to go bonkers. Luckily my friend's son is on the same team and so I ask her if she minded keeping an eye on Camden while I went and got my glasses. "No problem!" Super!

I head home. When I get back, I get out of the car and all I hear is Camden scream crying. You know the sound that isn't really a cry but isn't fully screaming either. He was scryming. So I hustle to get out Baby and hot tail it over to see what was going on.

I guess that he had the audacity to sit down on the grass. Only there, hidden under the grass was a huge fire ant hill. They latched onto his arm pit and the under part of his arm. He cried, but was ready to just be brave when he started to scream again. My friend  rips off Camden's shin guards and there are a couple enjoying a snack called "His Leg!!"

This is when I show up. I comfort him and we head home to make it better. How do you make that better? Those suckers hurt. Bad. Really bad. And they burn. Hence the name...fire ant. I put some cream on it and gave him some really cold wash clothes to put on the bites. It seemed to help.

All of a sudden he starts scryming again. I grab him, strip him bare and there, in his shorts, was the culprit. He had bitten my son like 15 times in two seconds. Poor Camden.

I grabbed that ant and I killed it. Then I killed it again. And just for good measure I killed it again.

You see, sitting is grass is dangerous. So is biting my son a billion times.

And so are merry-go-rounds.

(Brought to you by Mama Kat prompts)

So I Married a Deaf Man: Enough with the bananas!!

Knock Knock
Who's there?
Boo
Boo Who....
You don't have to cry, it's just me!

Everyone loves a good knock knock joke, right? Okay, so there are a few party poopers who don't like them. But we teach them to our kids, actually tell them some of the worst knock knock jokes ever.

Knock knock,
Who's there?
Cargo
Cargo who?
Cargo vroom vroom.

You must admit that there are some really good ones. My personal favorite:

Knock knock
Who's there?
Smell mop
Smell mop who?

Bwahahahahahaaha. I love that one. So many possibilities...touch mop, clean mop, wipe mop...Endless, I am telling you!!

Well, I hate to break it to you. But those types of jokes...totally not translate-able. It just ain't happening.

The whole "Banana. Banana who? Banana, banana, banana. Orange ya glad I didn't say banana," doesn't make sense to someone who can't hear that orange and aren't sound alike.

Most of the time, Hubs is left scratching his head thinking, "Why in the world would 'smell mop who' make you laugh so hard?"

He is a great sport about it when my kids come and tell him those knockity-knocker jokes. He simply gives a courtesy laugh and looks to me for explanation. 

When Hubs and I were first married, I interpreted in an elementary school for some 1st graders. One day, the teacher decided that it would be a good idea for everyone to bring in their favorite knock knock jokes and recite them, one by one, to the class.  Seriously! It was excruciating and near impossible. I kept trying to explain to the deaf student that hearing people thought it was funny because the words sound like other words. "Huh? Whatever."

So, if ever you have to give a speech to a group of deaf people and you want to start with a joke, avoid the whole knock-knock impulse altogether.

Because they really aren't glad that you didn't say banana!