His Photo Is in the Dictionary Under Unreasonable

April 19, 2009

Scene: In the kitchen. Miles requests a toasted bagel. I make him one. And slather it with cream cheese. LIKE I ALWAYS DO. And hand it to him.

Miles, knees buckling and collapsing onto the floor: I didn’t want cream cheese. I HATE CREAM CHEESE.

Me: No, you don’t. You like cream cheese.

Miles, still wailing: I don’t want cream cheese. I just want a bagel.

Me: Okay, next time I will give you a plain bagel.

Miles: Wahhhhh wahwah Waaaaaaahhhhhhh. Woe is me. My entire life sucks. Wahhhhhhhhh.

Me: Sorry, I’m not wasting the bagel.

Oldest son: I’ll eat the bagel for him. Just make him another one, please.

I toast Miles The Unreasonable a new bagel. I put it onto the counter and ask him if he wants butter on it or if he is going to eat it plain.

Miles, finger to his chin like he is deep in thought: I think I will have cream cheese.

Me: WHAT???

Oldest son: WHAT???

Miles: Yes, I think I will have cream cheese.

Oldest son: Then what was all the crying and screaming about?

Miles: Well, sometimes I just change my mind!

You Have HOW Many Kids?

April 18, 2009

This week on Backtalk we discussed family size and the fact that no matter how many children you have, there are strangers who feel compelled to comment about it. I am used to it. We can’t go anywhere as a family without getting comments. Most of the time people aren’t trying to be rude, at least I don’t think so.

Friday night I took the children to a restaurant for dinner. We had to wait for quite a bit of time for a table large enough to accommodate us. There were several other families waiting in the lobby area as well, when the inevitable happened.

Woman, “Oh my gosh. Look at all those kids.”

Daughter, “That’s a lot of kids.”

Woman, pointing while she counts, “One, two, three…”

Daughter, “Four, Five, Six…”

Woman, “There are six kids!”

Daughter, “Seven, Eight…”

Woman, “You got eight?”

Daughter, pointing, “I think you forgot to count that one over there”

Woman and daughter, “One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven…”

Woman, “I think we got them all that time. Seven!”

Daughter, “Wow!”

Woman, “Holy cow! Seven children!”

While all of this is going on I am standing, holding my youngest child, less than two feet away from her. I am looking at her the entire time while she loudly counts and recounts, yet she never acknowledges me.

This happens frequently and I never understand how people don’t think this is rude. It’s almost as if I am invisible. Or deaf and blind.

*****

Top Ten Fourteen Rudest and/or Strangest Questions/Comments That I Am Routinely Subjected To In Front Of My Children By Complete Strangers:

14) You couldn’t possibly give your children enough time/ attention/ stuff. We’re only having (insert small number, like one) because we want to give our child(ren) everything. The implication, of course, that I don’t want to give my children any of those things.

13) Do you want this big bag of hand-me-downs? I was going to throw it all away because the clothing is worn, stained, torn and otherwise not fit for my children to wear any longer, but I thought you might be able to use it.

12) You must have to shop at consignment stores, buy generic food, beg for hand me downs, grow and can all your own food, sew all your own clothing.

11) Do they all have the same father?

10) You’re not going to have any more kids, are you?

9) How can you afford all those kids? ( or the variations : Do you get public assistance?, How big is your house?, What does your husband do? usually while they try to discreetly check out my wedding rings)

8 ) Do you work? What do you do? (asked with the implication that they are somehow paying for me and my children though welfare programs)

7) You must be crazy. Or a saint. Or Catholic. Or Mormon.

6) Better you than me.

5) Don’t you know what causes that? They have things to prevent that, you know. Ever hear of birth control?

4) How do you feed all those kids? How much do you spend on groceries every month? How many gallons of milk do you go through a week?

3) Do you drive a bus? Does it beep when you back up?

2) Don’t you have a television?

1) I feel sorry for your kids.

As much as I would like to say I use rude and snarky comebacks, I don’t. I usually nod and smile. If someone is being particularly rude I’ll ask, “Why? Why are you asking me this?” Most often I will walk away and verbally fillet the person inside my head. It might be my upbringing, but it takes a lot for me to be rude to someone.

Then there are the people, usually cashiers that I can not get away from, who, after asking if they are all mine, proceed to tell me a story about their friend’s neighbor’s second cousin twice removed who had lots of kids and went crazy. And one day they found her completely naked, except for her shoes and socks with little balls on the back of the ankles, tap dancing on her roof.

I’m left standing there with my mouth hanging open, having no idea how to respond, except to say, “I don’t have tap shoes.”

*****

Friday night when the woman standing next to me turned and looked at me I fully expected to hear one of the above comments or a variation thereof.

Woman, “Wow, you are so brave to go to a restaurant with your kids and all their friends.”

I laughed. Sometimes that is all you can really do.

I have written a bunch of times about my experiences with a large family.

The time I shopped at J Jill.

People who tell me I can’t possibly love that many children.

Ridiculous Questions.

People who are downright RUDE.

*****

Next week I am going to be reviewing and giving away the book, A Sane Woman’s Guide to Raising a Large Family, written by blogger extraordinaire Mary Ostyn from Owlhaven. I’ll give you a little review preview: I LOVE this book! You should buy it.

*****

Other places I have been this week:

Quick and Easy BBQ Chicken Sandwiches, perfect for those nights when you are rushed to make something for dinner. Which pretty much describes six out of seven nights at my house.

And don’t forget, you can still enter to win the Wireless HP Photosmart C6380 All-in-One.

Whatever.

April 16, 2009

Welcome to my so-callled glamorous life.

This is my office. This is how I work every morning. Really, I don’t know why I am not more productive. This environment just oozes getting down to business, doesn’t it?

Miles always has to sit on the chair with me when he gets up in the morning. Sometimes assorted stuffed animals join us. Which I don’t mind that much until the stuffed animals want to help me type. Then I am apt to allow them to “type” for a few minutes before I declare that the stuffed animals wanted to FLY and throw them across the room.

My 8yr old is laying on the couch, complaining that he is tired. Oh so very tired. Why then is he up and out of bed, you might ask. There is no answer. Asking the question will only make you want to smack both of your heads against a wall.

My daughter is eating her breakfast, or more accurately pretending to eat her breakfast since she seems to survive on air.

On the tv Diego is blaring. That’s educational television right? I mean we have learned several Spanish phrases:

¡Al Rescate!
¡Vámonos!
Me gusta.

These have all come in handy. Especially when I sing them. Out loud. In public. Followed by emphatically shouting, “RESCUE PACK!” When you find yourself doing that at the grocery store, and you have no children with you, that is when you know that you have lost the very last shred of any coolness you once had. Along with losing your mind.

You might as well embrace the crazy. From what I hear, crazy is the new black.

Live Wirelessly, Print Wirelessly

April 15, 2009

A few weeks ago I was asked by BlogHer and HP if I would like to test out the Wireless HP Photosmart C6380 All-in-One. Oh, twist my arm. The they asked if I wanted to GIVE ONE AWAY to a lucky reader! Heck, YES!

To enter the contest and read the rest of the review, click here

Sorry for the mix-up earlier. Everyone who left a comment here previously, I will move your comment over. Never fear!

So go on and click over, BlogHer ad agreement requires me to post all reviews on pages that do not contain ads. I want you to win. Yes, you!

Dear God,

April 13, 2009

You suck.

Chris

*****

Last week it was Maddie.

Yesterday Shana’s beautiful baby boy, Thalon, passed away.

So sad. I feel broken for both families. This weekend I kept hugging my kids. Heck, I even hugged the neighbor kids. How do you come to terms with babies dying? There is no sense in any of it. No words to say.

Sarah has set up a Paypal account for those of you wishing to donate to Shana’s family to help offset the costs associated with Thalon’s hospital stay and funeral services. Just typing those words makes my heart break even more.

An Easter Miracle

April 12, 2009

She has ridden (her bicycle without training wheels)! She has ridden indeed!

Even the Parties are Big

April 11, 2009

The kids were invited to a neighbor’s birthday party this week. A big truck came filled with video game systems and video games. It was very cool. And very over the top. Don’t people just have guests over for cake and running around the backyard anymore? Maybe a game of pin the tail on the donkey? No?

This is the second party that the kids have been invited to since we moved here. My daughter’s birthday is coming up in a couple weeks and she is already planning her party extravaganza. She wants to have a princess party. Which would be fine except that 95% of her friends are boys and I am not sure that they are down with the whole “princess” thing.

She was the only girl invited to this party. All the boys treat her just like she is a boy.

It is funny because people always say to me that they feel sorry for my daughter. That my poor daughter is never going to have date since she has six brothers. I usually laugh and ask if that is a bad thing. But I think that she is the one who is going to have a healthy self esteem. She isn’t going to be looking for boys to love her. She already has that. And rather than no boys wanting to date her, it will be the other way around. She is the one who is going to be picky. I wish I had been that lucky to have brothers.

Brothers who taught me to burp, make fart noises with my armpit, and how to throw a punch. Brothers who would tease me, yet love me so fiercely I never would doubt their love. Brothers who would have made me feel like I was the most beautiful and most special girl that there was. So that I wouldn’t have had to look for other boys to tell me. Brothers who would have taught me to speak my mind, that what I had to say was important, even if some times I would have to say it loudly.

Brothers who would have given me the confidence to answer the (percieved) insult, “You ____ like a girl!” with, “I AM a girl, what’s your excuse?”

She’s lucky this little girl.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

April 10, 2009

When I saw Heather last month she looked at my hair and asked me if I was channeling my inner Duggar. Yes, I was long, long overdue for a cut. And let’s not even mention my roots. Please.

So I had an appointment today to get my hair done. I told the hairdresser I wanted 1-2″ cut off, figuring that being a hairdresser he would subscribe to the hairdresser method of measurement and I would end up with about 3″ off.

Um, that is a lot more than even 3″. (By the way, I don’t think the color difference is as dramatic as it looks in this photo) I always feel anxious when I get a haircut. I have had short hair exactly once in my life. I was five years old and my mother took me in for a “pixie” cut. Oh how I cried. Everyone at school teased me and called me a boy. So traumatized was I that I have never had short again.

It is much more obvious from the front. I think because of all the layering (with which I am not sure I am thrilled)

Before

After.

Also, note to self, put on some damn make-up already. Eeek!

I can’t wait to wash my hair, because I hate having all this product in my hair. I am not even sure what all it is, but my head smells like a pina colada.

My accessories are so cute though, I doubt anyone even notices what my hair looks like.

And on the Third Day… Candy!

My daughter came home from playing at her friend’s house yesterday telling me that I have to bring her to church. She thrust a full colored postcard out me.

“Do you even know what church is?” I asked her.

“Yes. [Friend] told me all about it. A helicopter flies over and drops millions of candy onto the ground and you run around and get them. That’s church.”

“Uh, what about the part where you pray and talk about Jesus and stuff?”

“No. They don’t do that.”

“No?”

“They just drop candy on you. That is church.” There may have even been eye rolling here.

“I think there is more to it than that, honey.”

“You just don’t know.” She was so exasperated with me and her plight of having a mother who just doesn’t understand what seems so painfully obvious.

And I guess I really don’t know. I could have missed that part of the Bible. Maybe when Jesus rose from the dead he did so with his fists full of Peeps and mini-Snickers. Maybe this church worships the god of confectionery goodness.

“So can we go to church?”

“Ask [Friend] if they will also be dropping Mimosas from the sky at 8am. Then I’ll let you know.”

It’s What’s For Dinner

April 8, 2009

Scene: Walking into Target on an overcast, windy day

Miles: It’s a shitty day today.

Me: What? What did you say?

Miles: It’s a shitty day today.

Me: Did you just say that it is a shitty day?

Miles: Not shitty. I said shitty.

Me: Shitty?

Miles: (hysterically laughing) Shitty? Why are you saying shitty?

Me: (also laughing) You are the one saying shitty.

Miles: No I said SHITTY.

Me: Like poopie?

Miles: (still laughing, and now shouting): NOT poopie. SHITTY. COLD.

Me: Do you mean chilly?

Miles: That’s what I said. Shitty.

*****

Last night I am serving dinner.

Miles: What are we having for dinner?

Me: Shitty.

Other child: Shitty?

Me: Yes.

Miles: (with a twinkle in his eye) You are so funny, mama.

Other child: Wait…. what is for dinner for real?