I'm No Britney Spears, But...Well...Thank God!

I'm like the Hare in The Tortoise and the Hare.  I always start out strong.  I love new adventures.  New ideas.  I'm an awesome planner.  I see something of interest, and I am instantly hooked!  I get everyone fired up (including myself) for something big...then...my enthusiasm...fizzles out!  Ku-putt!

Suddenly, I totally lose interest.  Or worse.  I get lazy, and don't have the energy to actually start.  This is why I hate to commit to anything.  Ya see, this overly enthusiastic trait that I have seriously contradicts my very dominant perfectionist trait.  If I start something, I want to do it right.  Perfect the first time.  With whipped cream and a cherry on top. 

Yep, little Ms. Firecracker always gets my ass in trouble.  Little Ms. Perfect hates Ms. Firecracker.  Ms. Firecracker's enthusiasm doesn't get the work done.  It's Ms. Perfect's job to follow through.  With a cherry on top.

Take this week's "Not" Mommy of the Year contest being hosted by the Mommyologist (Bad place for a plug, I know.  But you've got to go vote for her at Parentconnect.com.  She's in the running for the Best Parenting Blog of 2010. Check her out and vote!) and Life Without Pink (I wonder if she knows how truly blessed she is??  Think PMS at 4 years old).  A-hem, please pardon the interruption.  This post is sponsored by another ADD moment. K?

I found out about this particular contest last week, and was totally stoked.  I may not be able to tell you what a Super Hero Mom looks like, but I can definitely pick a slacker mom out of a line up.  Third one from the left.  Her in the ball cap with the beady eyes and no make up.  Yes, her.  Look at those nails; she hasn't cleaned a house or cooked a meal in years.  That's definitely her, officer! 





As is typical for moi, I contemplated for days about what I would do for this contest.  I wanted to have the perfect blog.  I wanted to finally embrace my lackadaisical persona and proudly present her to the world.  Flawlessly.  Ms. Perfect could not fathom anything other than the most impeccable of all the impeccable posts! 

Monday rolls around, and Firecracker is feverishly planning.  Tuesday rolls around, Firecracker continues to plan as she does a few loads of laundry.  Wednesday rolls around, Firecracker makes the beds, brings G to the doctor and E to swim lessons, and, oh yea!, ponders some more about the contest.  By Thursday, Firecracker is gone; no one is home but Ms. Perfect, and she ain't doing anything without a good plan, some spirit fingers, and a little glitter glue.

Today is Friday.  Ms. Firecracker is history; Ms. Perfect is pissed.  All that's left is LB, the one who is absolutely NOT Mommy of the Year but cannot, for the life of her, figure out how to express it! 

All I got is what I got, folks.  Thanks for stopping by.

• While I'm not cooking crystal meth, I'm not cooking chicken cordon bleu either.  
• G's shorts may not have BOOTY-LICIOUS written across the ass; however, she does like to dance like a, um, dancer.  
• Neither of my kids are doing science camp or dance camp or Save the Earth camp this summer because, frankly, I'm too lazy to drive them around and we'd never get there on time any way.
• Although I'm a teacher, I haven't even opened the folder of "fun lesson plans" sent home in May.  We may not be practicing our numbers, but I'm fairly certain E knows them.  At least the 9-1-1.  He proved that yesterday.  (Apparently, not buying him that Buzz Lightyear car is worthy of jail time.  Thank goodness that Sheriff's deputy was in a jovial mood.) 
• My son, who will watch TV for 47 hours straight if I let him, is a walking, talking billboard.  Why just yesterday when we walked into Subway, he shouted to the sandwich artist, "Subway!  Eat fresh!"  (The worker thought it was cute; I was a little embarrassed because I knew what the other mothers were thinking.)  
• I didn't breastfeed because it was just too hard.  *insert horrified gasp here*  I got frustrated and gave up in the first few days.  Don't hate me.  (If it's any consolation, my daughter did drink a bottle until her fourth birthday.  Now she has chocolate milk in a sippy cup.)
• My kids go to bed every night at 7-7:30 p.m.  Even in the summer.  What?!?!  Mama needs a little TV time before bed, too. 
• They both started sleeping through the night at 6 months because I let them cry.  I tried all the "good mommy" crap, but it took too much time and effort.  Crying took 2 days.  Harder, but far more efficient in my book.

Nope, I'm definitely not Mommy of the Year material.  I may not be "Not" Mommy of the Year material either now that I think about it.  I'm just trying to make sure no one gets hurt around here.

Ahhh...my girl, Brit.  It's really hard to top that one, now isn't it? 

My Little Apple

In the summer, I am always reminded of what a flop I am at parenting, wifery, and housekeeping.  In my last post, you saw my pathetic house and it's mounds of clutter.  Yep, we are one Sheriff Woody away from your classic family of psychologically impaired hoarders.

Today, my crazy-yelling-lady style of parenting reared its ugly head.  I hate that I'm a yeller.  My mom was a yeller, and I always hated her yelling at me.  I know my own kids feel the same way.  It seems, though, that I lose my mind with frustration and just go with what I know. 

STOP!  No Yelling! (Just shut up.)  When we get home, you are SO going to get it, young lady!

G, my mean-as-hell stubborn mini-me precious four-year-old, has recently developed a bad case of the smart mouth.  I honestly thought I had a good five years before having to deal with that behavior.  Apparently, she's quite "mature" for her age.  Anydrivemeuptheeff'nwall, her mouth has become my nemesis.  And I'm losing the battle.

Though a novice, G's got her smart-ass perfected!  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, ya know.  G starts off with mockery.  She says everything that comes out of my mouth with one hand on her hip and her head just a-bobbin'.  That's just a little appetizer to get my blood boiling.  By the time our little "discussion" is over, she's smirking at me and I'm screaming my head off!

I'm tired of your smart mouth, G!

"Mama, you are a big Smarty Butt!"

She's right, but that's beside the point.  This house ain't big enough for two smart asses.  And seeing as she is incredibly adorable, I'm afraid I'll have to concede.  Either that or get her butt in check! 

The Pocket Parent says I should just ignore her.  Nowhere in the book, however, says I should yell at her, or threaten a spanking that will never come to fruition.  The book goes on to explain that she's just trying to test me.  She knows my buttons and enjoys pushing them.  I am the parent and the adult so I need to stay calm.  FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. 

A friend of mine suggested that she actually washes her kids' mouths out with soap.  The concentrated liquid kind.  She's batting a 100% effective thus far, though.  Maybe I should give it a try?? 

Time outs with G are unbearable.  She refuses to stay, goes into hysterics, and the whole process lasts so long I forget why I actually put her there.  If I try to spank her, she turns around and tells me that it didn't hurt forcing me to spank her again.  I don't like that approach either.  God, I wish someone would write a book for the lazy parent.  How to Transform Your Child into a Wonderfully Charming Genius in Four Hours.  My kind of book.  Heck, I can do anything for four hours. 

In the meantime, though, how do you stop the kids from getting to best of you?  What works at your house?  To Soap or Not to Soap?  That is the question. 

Move Over Jim Carrey!

I think my son is probably going to be famous one day. Seriously... All my posts lately have been about him. Today is no exception.

Last night, his preschool had their Christmas program. He looked so handsome and grown up. I'd love to post a pic (this one is from last year); unfortunately, my husband was rushing me out the door (as usual), and I forgot my camera (again -- as usual). I only hope that my friends got a few shots and are willing to share.

Regardless, there he was in his Sunday best ready to sing his heart out. His class was the first to perform. As they entered the stage area, I saw him looking around for me. He was grinning ear to ear, and very excited. He'd been practicing so hard! He knew all the words and all the dance "moves."

Let me preface this story by saying that my little man is C-L-U-M-S-Y, clumsy. He wears glass and is nearly blind as a bat. He still hasn't adjusted to his glasses either. He is near-sighted so he gets a bit off-kilter when he looks down at his feet. "Watching his step" is literally a task for him.

Having said all that, where do you think they placed him on the stage??? Yep, you guessed it! They put him on the top of the risers. If you know anything about risers, the steps are not very wide. They are definitely NOT wide enough for an energetic dancer like my son.

So they placed my son at the top on this very narrow step. Like I said, his class was first. There performance included two Christmas songs. The first song was a very lively number, and Eli was getting into it. He was a dancin' and a singin' away! It was one of his best performances. He was so proud...until he fell off the freakin' stage!!

Yep, he was dancing like his daddy with his arms and legs just a flailing when he went off the back. He fell behind the curtain! My sweet little boy went down like a shooting gallery target! And the rest of his class just kept on singing!

I'm a bad mom because I couldn't help but laugh. However, I did run up to the stage to check on him. Hopefully, God will consider that some kind of consellation.

When it first happened, he didn't make a peep. However, by the time I reached the stage there was full-blown crying going on. I hugged him and kissed his boo-boo, but he was still crying. Finally, I asked him if he wanted to get back out there with his class and sing. With a tearful whine, he said "Yes, ma'am."

He stopped crying and got back on stage. He even went back to that same top riser. Of course, this time his teacher stood behind the stage with her hand on his back. His dance motions were a bit less animated, but he finished his performance nonetheless. And the crowd cheered him on...

For the finale, all the students got on the stage to sing. This time he did not go to the top riser. Instead, he went to the very front by the microphone. He was determined to be a star! Even when the teacher moved the microphone away, he followed it. His determination was even more apparent when another little boy tried to sing into that same mic. Each time the other boy got near, my son would stretch his arms out and push him back. We nearly had a UFC match on that stage.

All in all, it was a good time. Between my son dancing and falling, my friends' son singing LOUDER than any other child in the school, and the fight for the mic, I laughed until I cried. Christmas just doesn't get any better!! It's certainly a night I'll never forget. I wonder what he has in store for us when he performs again at his daycare program this Friday night???

Christmas 101: Lesson #1 - It Is Good to Give!

We love Christmas at our house! My son especially loves Christmas! I've never seen a kid who loves a holiday more than his birthday, but mine does. He loves presents -- the more the better. Even more, he loves OPENING presents. Oftentimes, the excitement he displays prior to actually getting the darned gift open is climatic. The gift itself is only a nice byproduct of the gift opening experience.

While I really enjoy seeing him so happy, I have been trying to make him understand that the joys of Christmas come from the giving and not the receiving. (Anyone who has successfully taught this lesson to a four year old, I need your number.) I have tried to stress the importance of being humble and the value of sharing. As a result, I had both of my kids take a gift request from the the Junior Auxiliary/Carl Perkins Christmas Tree.

My son chose to give to a little boy, and my daughter chose a little girl. I let them choose the toy, help me wrap it, and put the gift under our tree. (My 3 year old daughter is still trying to figure out how she can acquire that gift instead of the needy little girl for whom it was purchased.) The whole process was very sweet, and I think my son understood...kind of.

Today, E wanted to play Santa. All by himself, he put on a red Christmas shirt, some red shorts, and his red and black snow boots. My kids are always pretending and dress up nearly every day. This get up was nothing out of the ordinary, and I really didn't think much about it.

After putting on his Santa get up, he asked if he could go out outside. Obviously, I said no since it's rainy and 40 out there. He got so upset with me, and went into this lengthy explanation of why it was so important for him to go outside. I'm embarrassed to say it, but I let him go on the porch just so I wouldn't have to listen to the whining not really understanding his mission. At least his dad made him put on a pair of black sweat pants under the shorts. Of course, mom had to convince him that the sweat pants looked like the boot covers Santa wears. He bought it and conceded.

He wasn't out there long before I realized why it was so important for him to go out. Beforehand, he filled a box with some toys he doesn't play with anymore. He then went outside on the porch, and began yelling at the cars passing by. He wasn't having much luck, so he asked me to make him a sign. The sign said:

Free Toys from Santa Eli!

He took his new sign out to the porch and taped it to our front door. He continued to chant "Ho, ho, ho! Come get your free toys! Free toys here!"

After a little while, our next door neighbor came outside and took him up on his offer. He was so proud of himself. He gave some of his toys to the little boys visiting next door. The smile on his face was worth a million bucks! And the generosity in his heart was PRICELESS!

Nanny 911

Okay, so you remember my previous blog about my MIL and her lack of babysitting skills?? She "sat" (I use the term loosely, yet literally) with my kids while my husband and I went to my reunion festivities. She did a horrible job, and I could not wait to ditch her vowing "NEVER, EVER again!"

It never fails. I always end up eating my words....

Back in July, my husband and I made plans for a quick overnighter to a St. Louis Cardinals baseball game for our 7th anniversary. We asked some friends to keep our kids, and let them spend the night. They said "sure," and my kids were excited. Mama and Daddy were excited, too, because we honestly thought it would be a much more difficult task. My kids don't really "spend the night" since they are only 4 and 3 years old. But these friends are the Godparents to my children so I was okay with it.

Mid-August rolls around, and the friends had to cancel. One of their children was in an out-of-town ball tournament. Their family would be in some po-dunk town in Middle Tennessee that weekend.

WHAT??? I was freaking out because I really wanted to get away, but I really had no babysitter. I thought about one of the teenagers I trust. After all, it would only be for one night. Something in the pit of my stomach stopped me, though, since the term, trusted teenager, is an oxymoron.

Yes, I trust our regular sitter for a few hours. No, I do not trust her for an overnight trip. There is no telling what kind of things could happen. I can just see me watching TV in St. Louis when the regularly scheduled programming is interrupted by this breaking news:

Teens Throw Kegger -- 3 Yr. Old Caught on Camera Playing Quarters and Doing Keg Stands!

I just could not take that chance.

Fastforward to three days before our anniversay. Still no babysitter... My husband called the MIL. Of course, she was free. Of course, she'd watch our kids. (Of course, she'd sit on her fat tookus and eat everything in our house.) Uuuggghhh!!!! At least I wasn't the one asking. I have my dignity!

As suspected, it was disasterous. I wish I'd have taken pictures of the aftermath. Not only did she call us every 20 minutes to report that our kids were little monsters who needed Nanny 911, our house looked like a tornado had been through it. She was there for 24 hours! What the heck happened???

Her dog (the one that she claims is COMPLETELY house broken) left feces in my son's room. There were crumbs all around the recliner where she'd plopped herself and probably stayed the entire time. My daughter was wearing plaid on plaid, and not even in the same color spectrum. There was an ungodly smell in the kitchen from a milk cup left sitting in the sink. My toilets looked like Port-a-Potties. My kids had not had their teeth brushed. And they were filthy!

I just pray that no one reports me to D.H.S.! I knew that she was incapable of caring for them properly; yet, I let her stay with them any way. I knowingly subjected my kids to such horrific living conditions and sub-standard hygiene! Even worse, they probably sustained long-term emotional scarring from all the mental abuse!

I felt so bad, I took my kids to Target. I can't take back that 24 hours, but maybe a little bribery will deaden the pain.

Nanny 911... If she does call, I'm reporting her to the Fashion Police!

I Give Up!

Have you ever had one of those days where you just want to crawl up in your bed, throw the covers over your head, and cry like a baby??? One of those days where no matter what you do is right? One that, regardless of all the good work you do, you are blinded by your mistakes?

Today has been one of those days. Hell, this month has been one of those months! No matter what I do or say, it all gets twisted into something it is not. Maybe I am crude, but I am so sick of everyone's sensitivity! Honestly, why do some folks take themselves and everything in their lives so seriously??? I just cannot take it anymore!

If there was a way to just give up, I'd do it right now. If I could just drop out of society and live off the land, I'd be all over it. If I could quit life, lay on the couch while eating ice cream and watching Dr. Phil, I'd do it!

One thing is for certain. I am one of those people that you either get me or you don't. You either like me or you don't. There is no middle ground. I guess I'm like Howard Stern. Those who get him and where he's coming from, totally love him (like me). Those who don't, hate him and wish he'd be banished from society forever.

Whaaaa, whaaa, whaaa! I'm starting to sound like one who takes themselves too seriously! I'll stop here before I put my big, fat foot into my big, fat mouth again.

Just know, however, that I am usually a very happy person who enjoys life. I try never to take myself too seriously, and often find humor in my own misgivings. I like to joke, check, and joke some more with my the people I love. There is no malice in my intent. I am very loyal, and will do just about anything in the world (within reason, of course) for the people dear to me. While I am starting to learn that I cannot please everyone, it upsets me when I think that I've hurt someone. Believe me, it's NEVER, EVER intentional. I just talk too much, and that's always gotten me in trouble.