When even a margarita won't help

Yes, I had one of those weekends.
Saturday, due to a brief financial windfall, found The Man and I dropping the heathens off at Grandma's so we could go Yule shopping.
Whereas both boys through fits worthy of note, although Boo did recover much fast than Bug.
Bug hid in Grandma's garage, ate breakfast in Grandma's garage, and in general, was a pint sized twirp.
But the Man and I prevailed, saving a whopping $115 dollars on Yule presents ( we got $350 for $235!) It was his first couponing shopping adventure with me (a virgin! Oh my!) and he had a glazed looked in his eyes the rest of the day.
Then off to the grocery store to restock our pantries. The Man has vowed never again.
So my plan succeeded, because I loathe taking him to the store with me.
He messes with my rhythm.
Sunday was just me and the heathens.
And it was not a pretty picture.
The boys were wild and succeeded in interrupting Punk's nap, so I had a screaming, fussing 22 month old all day.
Seriously! I looked at her, she cried. I tried to pick her up, she cried. Tried to leave her alone, she cried. Tried to stay with her, she cried.
It was lose/lose proposition.
Until she finally passed out, in the recliner, at 5:30pm and slept 13 hours straight.
And this morning? She's still giving me the stink eye.
But she's Daddy's problem until 5 o'clock tonight.
I'll take pissy customers any day.

For the love of a Woobie

http://www.babysleepshop.com/acatalog/info_26.html
My oldest boy, from the time he was three months old, had his Woobie, a beloved Noukie Doudou named Paco that was chewed upon, carried every where, and slept with.
Paco the first was lost on the side of the turnpike in a freak wind related accident.
Paco the Second was throwing away by a two year old.
Paco the third--we just don't know where he went. He ran away from the craziness.
Paco the fourth was lost last year, and after $40 a pop, i deigned not to replace him.
Bug cried. He asked for it. And we diverted like the cowards we are.
After more than a year of looking and admitting defeat, Woobie showed up again this last weekend.
There was a joyous reunion with flowers and protestations of undying love.
A boy and his Woobie--happy days.

Frankestyle

We survived Halloween.
Barely.
We had a zombie soccer player, Frankenstein (mispronounced each day as either dragonfly or Frankestyle) and a pissed off pink poodle.
We called in reinforcements in the form of our willing nephew and set out.
I took pissy poodle, figuring she would wear out more quickly, and The Man and Guy took the boys.
We girls out lasted the boys, but isn't that normally the case?
Punk didn't want to stop. Even when her little legs were so tired she was stumbling. Even when the houses became fewer and further between. Even when her bucket over floweth with teeth rotting goodness.
My girl persevered.
While the boys when back to Grandmas and handed out candy.
Suckers.
Wooses.
Wimps.
Let the girls show you how its done!

When it rains

I get hit with cats and dogs and step in a few poodles.
Yes, I am being cheezy, but there's not much more to say.
We've hit another wall, a new snaffu, another delay in resuming that path our lives were once on.
If we don't get back on that path soon, we won't be able to find it for the overgrown and grass.
Maybe we're not supposed t resume that path. I don't know. But right now it seems fairly idyllic when compared to our current trail, which is full of worries, budgets, and blasted sticker burrs.
Whatever the future holds, i just wish we could start moving forward instead of inching our way along, wondering what lies around every corner.

Three days

Bug has had three good days of school thus far--last Friday was a winner, and Monday and Tuesday have been great.
We're creeping into Wednesday hopeful and quaking with fear.
And this morning, he woke up in THAT mood.
The "I don't want to" and "I'm gonna have a bad day" mood that sent me scurrying to the bathroom to take deep breaths and pray toe very deity I could come up with.
Shiva and me--old buddies. Buddha got his belly rubbed. You get the picture.
So i did what every self respecting parent would do when faced with insurmountable odds.
I tickled him until he almost wet himself and oxygen was a luxury.
His mood perked right up then!
Then w danced the good day dance, sang the good day song, and I retreated while I was sort of ahead of the game.
I will spend my day at work worrying, stressing, and waiting for the call to tell me how his day went and if I need to pick up bribes for his teachers to let him come back tomorrow.
His attitude is really affecting my pocketbook.

Bed Bugs

I have bed bugs.
Not the gross, biting kind, but the giggling, wriggling, little boy kind.
Every night to early morning, I end up with an unexpected bed mate.
A very cute one, but still.
They hog the covers, put toes up my nose, fart, drool, and snore.
And I end up not going back to sleep.
I've tried being stern about it.
Which results in tears and wailing from their room.
And I still don't sleep.
I was always very firm in my belief that children should not be in their parents bed. Until Punk came along, and, desperate for sleep, I caved.
And it's been snowballing since then.
And since Boo started school, its become a nightly thing.
I wake up to find him in our bed, on the end of our bed, staring at me from the side of the bed.
I hear his bear jangling as he comes down the hall.
I am sleep deprived because my kids want to be with me, in my bed, and they aren't good bed mates.
They turn sideways, upside down, fling arms, head butt me, and all the while, I'm huddling behind my pillow praying to the blasted Sand Man to knock them out so hard they stay still.
I love my bed bugs, but I'm about to unleash a big old can of Raid on them if I don't get some sleep soon!

Suck that Thumb!

After 3 1/2 years of avid devotion to the art of thumb sucking, Boo, per the advice of his dentist, will kiss his oppose able digit goodbye.
No, we are not chopping it off, but we will be stopping it from dwelling in his mouth before I have to bankrupt myself on braces in ten years.
I did the research and ordered a product with great recommendations that should be arriving in the mail by this weekend.
If it, unlike my other mail, isn't high jacked by my deranged mailman for some house built out of mail and junk.
So we will enter the fray of a mad preschooler who can't get his thumb sucking fix. We'll suffer through detox.
We'll bounce off the padded walls while Boo wails and moans the loss of his beloved thumb.
We just hope it works.
And that our middle child doesn't fall off the wagon and go on a thumb sucking bender to rival all benders. Think "The Long Weekend" Boo style.
*slurp! slurp!*